Precursor to the Mỹ Lai Massacre: 1968 Phong Nhị, Phong Nhất_24: From the 1966 Magazine 《Arirang》; The Scream of an Injured Participant of War
This article is from a reader submission published in December 1966 in the monthly issue of "Arirang." Lieutenant General Choi Young-un says he learned about this article while preparing to be dispatched to Vietnam, after having lived in military prison for 45 days for leading the 8·8 surprise attack in 1966, and returning to the position of platoon leader. He was so deeply impressed by the article, to the extent that he pasted it on the wall of his platoon office to ruminate on it whenever he could. The article illustrates the social atmosphere for Vietnam War veterans who returned home after being injured in battle. The magazine was published by a Troop Information and Education officer, the Navy captain Kim Sang-mo, at Seoul Naval Hospital, and the following was written in front of the article. "On May 1, Choi Woo-sik, Lieutenant of the 1st platoon of the 6th company of the 2nd Battalion of Blue Dragon Unit, who was honorably wounded in the sweep operation of the Tuy Hoa Village, was taken to the naval hospital in Seoul on June 7th. I highly recommend that you read his most recent writing that he composed while still in his sickbed, so that more and more people could gain awareness and treat these wounded war heroes with all due respect. We wish you the best in all of your future endeavors." Such artifacts help us understand the sentiments of the Vietnam veterans at the time.
I may appear helpless now, but do you know what I looked like on the Vietnam battlefronts? You would have no idea! How would you even understand? You lookin’ down on me for being crippled? You think I’m a retard, don’t you? But you know what? In a rice wine house called Hwanghaeyuk, I'm flirting with a marigold-toothed hostess in long pink underskirt with pit stains, hoping it’ll make me feel better. I’m overwhelmed with the desire to throw something, anything--and completely shatter it.
《Arirang》 A letter written by a platoon leader who was injured from war, published in the December 1966 issue.
What, you’re lookin’ down on me too cause I don't have a leg and always a nervous wreck? Yeah, I AM a nervous wreck, alright. You're the best out of all of them. Aeran, was it, your name? Come here a little closer, Aeran. Why don’t we... What, you’re playing hard to get, huh? You despise me just like the others, don't you? Yeah, those other sons of bitches! When I get hungry and go into a restaurant, that owner, her face all twisted as she goes straight back into the kitchen! Why, if I didn’t order some food, she woulda gone right on pretending I don’t exist. They don't even come near me. Only when I finally call a girl to order some food, will they bring it to me reluctantly. Those bitches, when other people come in, they’re all flirtatious, asking them what they’ll eat. It’s not like I'm not paying you or causing a ruckus. When I see how those bitches act, I just wanna pull out my rubber leg out and smack those bitches in the head with it! This is absurd. This is why I say I like Aeran the most cause she at least greets me.
When I went to Vietnam, I went with pride and confidence. I never thought I'd lose my leg. Think about it. Imagine me in my camouflage uniform and steel helmet, courageously shooting down the Viet Congs with my BAR automatic rifle. How muscular my leg was back then. And when I would go to the swimming pool, they would all comment on my build, especially on how long my lower body stretched out.
But what has become of me? Do you want to feel it yourself? This soft rubber leg. Hell, when I go to bed at night, this thing lies next to me over my head. Does it gross you out that bad? Sons of bitches freak out when they see this, saying they lost their appetites. Well, who in the world knows? Maybe one day, they'll break their legs. How'd I get hurt? It was during the First Operation of the Blue Dragon, which was the biggest operation of the Marines since the outbreak of the Vietnam War. My company started attacking the target from dawn. If the enemy showed up in the middle of the attack, we killed them with no hesitation and went through the jungle. We climbed over the rough rocks, and there was a big cave in the middle of the mountain. The Viet Congs were in there hiding and shooting. We couldn't see them, but the bullets kept coming at us, so I fired my BAR automatic rifle at the cave as I headed over.
When I got to the entrance of the cave. Boom--there was a flash of fire before I went tumbling down. I had stepped on one of their mines. But because of me, we were able to capture that cave. I couldn’t even feel the pain at the time. I just stared at the red blood gushing out as my comrades bandaged me.
You know what this on my chest is? This is the Inheon Order of Military Merit, and this one over here is the Vietnam Medal of Gallantry. By the time I came to the hospital on a helicopter and opened my eyes, I was missing my left leg. I looked down and silently stroked my severed leg. But I didn't feel sad or disappointed. Back in Korea, I had my lover whom I loved very much. I was rather proud when I thought of the many people who would welcome me back home.
In fact, I was so happy when I was repatriated back to Korea, despite leaving behind one of my legs in Vietnam. I was so happy when my lover ran to me as soon as she heard I was in the hospital. But once the bitch came and saw my state, she never returned, and a month later, I heard she was engaged to some other bastard. I loathed the whole world that day. I was tired of crying, so I sneaked in 15 seconals without my military doctor's knowing and tried to kill myself, but somehow I'm still alive today. What a dumbass, huh?
But lying down in the hospital all day was so stifling that I went outside to exercise and get some fresh air, but everyone gave me the cold shoulder. Except for Aeran. I've been having temper issues since then. Whenever someone treats someone like me with contempt or disgust, I throw a fit. They make me this way.
I may be missing a leg right now, but I hardly remember that I am. I feel and act the same way as I did when I had both legs, until someone’s cold shoulder reminds me of reality once again. They don’t think about what they did to instigate us; they only accuse us of being feisty, which drives us nuts. They say all these things on the radio, but these motherfuckers never listen. Little kids, and even middle school and high school students come visit the hospital to convey condolences, but they’re such a small minority of the entire Korean population.
Why don’t you people think about something other than money for a second? People of Han (Korea), be kind and gentle, why don’t you, instead of turning a blind eye to those who became crippled?
- Written by humank (Journalist; Seoul, Korea)
- Translated and revised as necessary by April Kim (Tokyo, Japan)
The numbers in parentheses indicate the respective ages of the people at the time in 1968.
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Chapter 23 : A day at the Central Intelligence Agency