Larry Heinemann
Larry Heinamann
Larry Heinemann served in the U.S. Army in Vietnam in 1967-68. He has published three novels, including Paco"s Story which won the National Book Award. His short stories & nonfiction have appeared in The Atlantic Monthly, Harper"s, Playboy, Tri
Quarterly, & numerous other magazines và journals. He has read, lectured, and taught at writers" workshops, universities, & veterans" gatherings in the U.S., Vietnam, England, China, & the former Soviet Union. Mr. Heinemann has also written a nonfiction book about train travel in contemporary Vietnam.
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The Nui ba Den
I have no pleasing memories of my war year, with one singular exception. The mountain. The Nui ba Den.
I was drafted into the Army in 1966 and served with the 25th Division in the middle of what the French called Cochin China, assigned to a mechanized infantry battalion. We rode armored personnel carriers. A.P.C.s; "tracks," we called them. We generally rode roughshod, armed to the teeth, through the countryside around Cu Chi and Dau Tieng, Trang Bang and Gau domain authority Ha and Tay Ninh, the Ho Bo và Bo Loi Woods. Khổng lồ make a long story short, we were not pleasant people và the war was not a pleasant business. I have no doubt we radicalized more southern Vietnamese to Ho đưa ra Minh"s national revolution than we "saved."
The part of the world we fought in is as flat as the back of your hand. & above it stands the Nui bố Den, 996 meters high, solid stone, & visible from almost any place, as if Mount Mc
Kinley were mix in the middle of Kansas. On summer days, the very top of the mountain was enwrapped with a bit of stone-white cloud, lượt thích a flat-brimmed, fraying hat.
I always tried to lớn take the last night guard, from three or four in the morning until breakfast. Night watches were mostly pathetically interminable reveries. And there in the moonlight the Nui tía Den would be, like a fuzzy apparition. We watched in the darkness as processions of Viet Cong made their way up and around the mountain, each man carrying a tiny perfume bottle lamp, each light not much more than the flame of a birthday candle. The mountain seemed khổng lồ shimmer at such times.
And then there were those few mad, murderous nights of fighting -- "bitter fighting," as historians call it. My life"s everlasting night horrors; the worst nights of my life. The killing would cease only when the sun rose, the smoke cleared, and the dew burned away. You looked up and there was nothing but meat và a wood line that looked lượt thích ruined drapes. And then you looked out across the way, và there, rising sharply above everything, was the Nui cha Den.
Sitting guard in that last, long hour before dawn, the mountain would cut a clean silhouette from the scrub of dirty dark; soon a blunt, shadowy brunswick green; then a peculiar gray-green as the light gathered above us. The mountain was textured with the rubble of mold-stained boulders và thick stands of timber; then a transparent, seedling green; the sky all but blue. Then -- boom -- the sun rose, the world all color, and there it would be, the Nui tía Den, vivid and entire. The green of all green.
Since coming trang chủ from the war, I have made several trips back khổng lồ Vietnam, và heard a number of legends about the mountain -- all antique.
It is named for a woman named bố Den; "ba" being a mode of respectful address khổng lồ signify a matron over 40 -- "ma"am." One story goes that ba Den"s husband was killed in one of the many wars of Vietnamese history; she so grieved his loss that she climbed the mountain khổng lồ be as close to heaven as she could manage, then committed suicide. Another tells that tía Den và her soldier-husband lived at the foot of the mountain; while her husband was away fighting she was captured, raped many times, and died of shame. A third story says that she was a devout older woman, a stranger lớn the people who lived there, but remarkable for her spiritual simplicity. Tía Den, it is said, visited the mountain khổng lồ pray & meditate.
The story I favor is this: the woman tía Den was khổng lồ marry a soldier, but on her wedding day her husband-to-be was called away to lớn war and never returned. Yet tía Den waited, cried so hard và long that her family thought she would thua the sight of her eyes, and, as the legend has it, she became the mountain. A pagoda shrine was built to the memory of her faithfulness & devotion.
The Nui bố Den has always loomed large in my memory of the war; in my 30 years of dreams and nightmares; in my imagination & my writing about that time of my life. Nowadays when I visit, I ride up highway 22 toward Tay Ninh, và just north of Gau da Ha, I see her. The Nui tía Den, the widow who waits for her soldier"s return, rises into view, & I feel I have come home.
How odd.
Albert FrenchAlbert French was born in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, on July 5, 1943. After graduating from high school, he joined the U.S. Marine Corps in January of 1963. In 1965, he served as an infantryman with Echo Company, 2nd Battalion, 7th Marine Regiment in Chu Lia, Vietnam. Following his Marine service, Mr. French became a photo journalist and magazine publisher, then a writer. He is the tác giả of critically acclaimed books, including the novels Billy (Chivers, 1994) and Holly (Viking Press, 1995) and the memoir Patches of Fire: A Story of War & Redemption (Anchor Books, 1997), which is based on his experiences during and after the Vietnam War. Mr. French lives in Pittsburgh.
Time crawled through the days & nights like a snake you couldn"t see. Then sometimes you could see its head, its tail. Sometimes you could see it all; it could coil, hiss, spring at you, before you knew what you saw. But you"d feel its bite, then its poison would sting you.
Just sitting for a moment could be everything, precious time you didn"t want to lớn pass. Sitting on the sand bags, staring out into the night, watching the stars could be precious moments, before you looked down into the dark, watched it creep about, & you"d think about the nights gone by when fires burned, somebody screamed until they died.
Sitting back in the tent area could be a good time. Easy talk could take you everyplace, back home. It could take you to lớn parties, warm beds và long, soft hair. Laughter could take you further than talk; laughter could take you away from yourself. It could make those fears, death thoughts you had in your mind go away. It could change it, until it became a billion little pieces of things that didn"t make a difference.
Seconds could change time forever, stick it in your face, make you look at it, make you look at some guy"s face. He"s dead, you don"t want lớn see him, see yourself lookin" at him and seein" you layin" there. Blood và everything else that flows is pourin" out of him. Flies are already gettin" stuck in the blood. But you would have khổng lồ move on, take more steps. Time would walk with you, wait with you, then run off screamin" & leavin" you alone and stuck with your own fears. You don"t give a damn about the time, let it run away. It don"t mean anything here anyway, you"re dead already. You been dead as soon as you got here. You don"t want to lớn say it, you just want to pretend your alive, still livin".
The rain could become a part of the time, nighttime, daytime. It could come và not go away. It could make you a part of it, wet & cold just like it. It could fall on your face, keep fallin" in your mind, make you hear it all of the time. You"re tryin" to see through it, you got lớn know what"s comin", got to lớn see where you"re going. You want it khổng lồ stop so you can clean your rifle off, get dry, but you know it ain"t goin" nowhere. You got khổng lồ keep going, wadin" through its mud and floodin" waters. Some snake is floatin" by, going the other way. It"s wet, just like you. It"s going where it doesn"t want khổng lồ go. Or maybe it"s going home. You know you"re not.
God can sneak up on you anytime, then leave quickly. Most of the time, he comes at night when you"re alone in your hole. He can just be there, you can look his way, talk, whisper lớn him. You can ask him why, why, why. Sometimes, you won"t talk lớn him. You don"t want him close lớn you, messin" with your head. Things ain"t never fair. Everything is upside down, everybody can get killed. Them little crosses hangin" around dead necks, didn"t save a damn thing. Lewis was always readin" that black book, always crossin" his heart so fast you thought he was havin" a fit. The flies got in all his blood. That little girl was runnin" for her life, scared as hell. She couldn"t have been anything else except a child of somebody"s God. If God wanted lớn reach down và get her, it didn"t have to lớn be with that damn automatic. Makin" her cry.
Maybe God ain"t here, maybe you"re just talkin" to yourself, thinkin" he"s here. Maybe when he gets here, he won"t sneak up on you, get in your head & see you lượt thích this stuff sometimes. Lượt thích changing things forever, like the cold rains và dark nights, lượt thích hiding them, then sneakin" out and killing somebody forever. Maybe God stayed in the states, stuck on a penny. Maybe he"s coming over when he hears about this stuff. Maybe he"s going to lớn let his angels sing at night, dance in the day. Maybe when he gets here, he"ll put things back together, mở cửa up some bodybags & let guys live again. Maybe he"ll let that little girl go play, sing, dance, love one day và have babies. Please hurry, God.
I remember one night, perhaps I had gone too far. Maybe God didn"t want me khổng lồ go no further, wanted me lớn live, tell about it, write about what he had khổng lồ watch us do. I know now he cried, it was never raindrops fallin". No, there ain"t that much rain lớn ever fall.
I was so close khổng lồ death, I could smell its ugly breath. A bullet had gone through my throat. I was standing in the dark, looking across the rice paddy. We were pulling back, và I was asking this guy if anyone was left back there. I couldn"t see anyone, couldn"t find my friends. The only thing I could see was patches of fire burning in the far tree line. This guy turned and looked back too, then turned to me và muttered only the dead. I turned, pulled back, came back. But I brought the time with me & turned it into words that will hopefully live forever.
David HackworthDavid Hackworth enlisted in the Merchant Marines at age 14 and the U.S. Army at 15. He spent almost 26 years in the Army, over seven of them in combat theaters. After five years in Vietnam, Hackworth, then the Army"s youngest colonel, spoke out on national television, saying, "This is a bad war... It can"t be won. We need to lớn get out." Hackworth earned numerous decorations, including eight Purple Hearts & the United Nations Medal for Peace, given for his anti-nuclear work in Australia.
He has been a regular guest on national radio và TV shows, & from 1990 to the over of 1996, he was Newsweek"s contributing editor for defense. Hackworth"s books include The Vietnam Primer, the international best seller About Face, and Hazardous Duty.
He who can modify his tactics in relation to lớn his opponent, & thereby succeed in winning, may be called a heaven-born captain. — Sun Tzu
In the spring of 1965, America began khổng lồ dispatch a great conventional army to lớn Vietnam. Pound for pound those airmen, marines, sailors and soldiers were collectively the finest warriors we had ever sent to war. In the beginning, they were highly trained regular volunteers, who had long been indoctrinated to lớn kill a "Commie for Mommy."
But the Americans were trained khổng lồ fight the Soviet Union. Their doctrine, tactics và equipment were designed to engage a Communist enemy on a European battlefield, not an Asian opponent in the jungle. The training and mindset of their generals and admirals were to lớn fight great air, land and sea battles not unlike those that brought us victory in World War II.
There was another problem. Their Vietnamese opponent refused lớn be sucked into a war of attrition or lớn fight an American style war. He had over the centuries defeated the Chinese, Japanese & the French not by fighting by conventional rules, but by following the strategic & tactical doctrine of Sun Tzu, written two & a half thousand years before: enemy attacks, we retreat; enemy digs in, we harass; enemy exhausted, we attack; enemy retreats, we pursue.
For eight years, the powerful U.S. War machine mostly attacked shadows & mainly bombed an invisible enemy. It was seldom able lớn lock its opponent into the much sought-after classical big battle, where it could bring to lớn bear its overwhelming firepower and technological advantage over its Third World foe. The enemy fought battle for battle mainly on his terms & almost always played the tune. He acted, we reacted. When the fight was over he danced away lớn fight another day, almost always leaving the ground bloody from American casualties. He took his lumps too, but they weren"t shown on the Vietnamese nightly TV news. & he was prepared to lớn pay any human price to lớn wear down his American opponent.
Sadly, from "The Iron Triangle" lớn "Hamburger Hill" -- always in search of the big battle, the big victory, the big knockout -- the American leadership never learned. What worked in World War II was the standard. In their haste lớn recreate a Guadalcanal or a Normandy KO, the đứng đầu brass failed the basic lessons of war-fighting: to understand your enemy and know cold the nature of the war.
For eight years, America fought the same battles on the same terrain using the same obsolete tactics. There was no clear cut military plan (The Objective, a principle of War), nor was there an institutional memory. Front line unit leaders were shifted every few months và the division & corps commanders -- whose tenure was considerably longer -- were totally out of cảm ứng with what went on down at the pointy kết thúc of the bayonet. The mistakes that were made in 1965 were repeated each year, as each annual crop of American cannon fodder was fed unto the field until 1973, when we withdrew.
The valiant men with the rifle squads, platoons and companies well understood the enemy"s game. How he would dart in, make them bleed và run away. How he was into making the Second Vietnamese War a protracted affair that would frustrate America"s leaders và wear down the American people, who from the beginning of the conflict questioned the morality of the war, wondered how our country"s national security was even remotely at risk in the far away jungles of South East Asia, và saw the wrongheadedness of our being there.
Virtually no senior commanders spent time with the grunts to learn the true nature of the war. Most were isolated from the fighting men -- not unlike the French, British và German senior brass of World War I. Similarly, they lived in royal comfort, complete with white-coated servants và sparkling China-set tables, safely away from the killing fields. When a battle did rage, they whirled above it in helicopters making decisions that may have worked in another war, but didn"t make sense lớn the men on the ground. These sky-borne leaders became bitterly known lớn the men who did the dying as "The Great Squad Leaders in the Sky."
The Vietnam War was a disaster from its bad beginning until its tragic end. It killed four million Vietnamese and over 58,000 Americans. Millions more, Vietnamese and Americans, were wounded by shell or shock & the war came close khổng lồ ripping our country asunder. With the exception of the Civil War, no war wrought such long range damage lớn the American soul.
Did our military establishment learn from the tragic lesson of Vietnam? The mistakes were all buried. No autopsy was conducted. In 1993, in Somalia, the U.S. Army made exactly the same mistakes that were made in Vietnam. Again, mainly young Americans paid the supreme sacrifice.
Unless we learn from the past we will again face dark days ahead.
W. D. Ehrhart W. D. Ehrhart served three years in the Marine Corps, including thirteen months in Vietnam (1967-68) with 1st Battalion, 1st Marines, receiving the Purple Heart, two Presidential Unit Citations, & promotion lớn sergeant. He later became active with Vietnam Veterans Against the War. A writer, poet và lecturer, he lives in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, with his wife & daughter. His many books of prose and poetry include Vietnam-Perkasie, The Distance We Travel, and Carrying the Darkness.
I first began khổng lồ consider joining the Marines in the late fall of 1965, soon after the battle of the Ia Drang Valley, an engagement which confirmed for the first time the presence of North Vietnamese regular army troops in South Vietnam. As a senior in high school, I was then in the midst of applying lớn colleges, and within four months I would be accepted at four of them, but throughout that winter & into the spring of 1966, I kept coming back lớn the thought of delaying college long enough to serve my country. A few years earlier, I"d written on the cover of my school notebook John Kennedy"s clarion call: "Ask not what your country can vì chưng for you; ask what you can bởi vì for your country. " Now I had my chance to lớn answer that challenge.
When I was nine, the Communist Soviet Union had launched into orbit around the earth Sputnik, the first artificial satellite, demonstrating their potential ability also lớn launch atomic missiles at the United States. As a ten-year-old, I had cowered beneath my desk at school during nuclear bomb drills, waiting for the Russians to lớn attack us. Over the next few years, the U.S.S.R. & its evil minions had built the Berlin wall, spawned Communist insurgency in Laos, & tried lớn put nuclear missiles in Cuba. I had watched on television as Soviet premier Nikita Krushchev pounded his shoe on the podium at the United Nations General Assembly, shouting, "We will bury you!"
Kennedy had said we would bear any burden and pay any price lớn prevent that from happening. Và then Kennedy was dead, và a few days later I had stood for eight hours in freezing cold just khổng lồ get a glimpse of his casket lying in state beneath the Capitol dome, & when I saw it, I had cried. A year later, during the 1964 presidential election, I rode around the streets of Perkasie, Pennsylvania, on the back of a flatbed truck singing Barry Goldwater campaign songs because I felt that Lyndon Johnson was too soft on communism. Moscow"s communist henchmen were by this time clearly escalating their drive to conquer the không tính phí people of South Vietnam, yet Johnson seemed afraid to lớn confront them with anything more than words.
To my dismay, Johnson won the election, but I fully supported him in 1965 when he began the systematic bombing of North Vietnam, sent the Marines into South Vietnam, and finally ordered the military to lớn switch from a defensive posture lớn the offensive mission of seeking out và destroying the Viet Cong. "If we vì chưng not stop the Communists in Vietnam, " Johnson said, "we will one day have to fight them on the sands of Waikiki." Johnson was finally catching on, I thought, & by March 1966 my own mind was made up: college could wait. My country needed me now. I would join the Marines.
And it had lớn be the Marines. That was never in question. "The Marine Corps Builds Men." That was the recruiting khẩu hiệu back then, và I wanted khổng lồ be a man. More than that: I wanted khổng lồ be a hero, and Marines were heroes almost by definition. The Halls of Montezuma. Belleau Wood. Guadalcanal. The Chosin Reservoir. & what in the world looked sharper than that U.S. Marine Corps dress blue uniform? Yes, indeed, if I was going, I was going as a Marine.
My parents were none too keen on the idea. It wasn"t that they had any political or moral objections to lớn the war, but only a question of who would want their child lớn go to lớn war when he could go to college instead? But our long và sometimes heated discussions finally ended when I blurted out, "Is this the way you raised me? to lớn let other mothers" sons fight America"s wars? " and of course, that was not the way my parents had raised me, và that had ended all discussion. I left for boot camp at Parris Island, South Carolina, in June 1966, nine days after I graduated from high school. At the time, I did not even possess a draft card because, at 17, I was not yet old enough lớn register with Selective Service.
Seven months later I arrived in Vietnam, where everything I thought I knew about the war in particular, & the world in general, came head-on smack up against reality. But that"s another story.
| Xuất xứ | Việt Nam |
| Quy cách | Chai 30ml |
| Thương hiệu | Secret Life |
| Mã SKU | SP004693 |
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