Original air date: October 26, 2023
Relationships between deployed troops and the civilians they encounter, when serving far from home, are complicated. America’s Vietnam War involved the full range of such relations. On one end of the spectrum there was the brutality of infamous massacres such as My Lai, a war crime committed by U.S. soldiers who killed more than 300 Vietnamese civilians.
On the other end, were genuine human connections that forged lasting relationships. Veteran Bill Foreman arrived in Vietnam in December 1967, serving in the One-Hundred-First (101st) Airborne Division. Despite dangerous conditions Foreman describes, he says he liked Vietnam and many of the people there.
A small notebook given to Foreman by a Buddhist Monk — like ones that were used by Vietnamese students — tells the story of one way friendship can mitigate violence.
FOREMAN: We were at, I think, the Đông Hà River Bridge. We're taking kind of a break from being out in the field providing security for this bridge, because bridges are always good targets.
So a bunch of the guys were standing at the fence that surrounded our base there, our base camp, and a bunch of kids were at the fence. And they always kind of gravitated toward GIs trying to score Cokes and sea rations and so on. And they're just fun. And this gentleman was walking behind the children. He was wearing robes and he was probably of military age and all these GIs are saying, “Hey, VC! Hey, you!” You know, giving him a hard time.
He just kept his head down and kept walking. And I followed him on my side of the fence. Once we got away from those jerks I said, “So you speak English, don't you?” Because I figured he was a Buddhist monk and they're well educated. He said that he did. So I got to know him — went to his village a couple of times. He gave me a tour of his temple.
And he put a lot of some Buddhist literature in this little tiny notebook. And I carried it. I don't know how long — weeks, certainly — in an ammo box I had strapped to my backpack so I can keep all my money and cigarettes — because I smoked — and chocolate bars and writing stuff — you know, supplies — in that ammo box. And I kept this little notebook in there. So it's in really good shape having been out in the field, you know, rice paddies and jungles and whatever. I've read some of it.
One thing that he mentioned was that he had heard of a U.S. Marine who had after his tour had returned to Vietnam to become a Buddhist monk. And I think he was hoping I would do the same thing, but I wasn't about to do that.
Anyway, at that base around the bridge, every once in a while we'd be attacked with mortars. And it happened at least twice, maybe more. But these little bitty mortars you'd hear a pop on the other side of the village. And so somebody’d yell, “Everybody head for cover!” And then the mortar round would come in. It would explode. Nobody ever got hurt.
But that happened one night. And you would not have been criticized for firing out through the perimeter in case the mortar attack was a prelude to a ground attack. And so those same jerks who had given that Buddhist monk a hard time, said that they had not fired into the village — village was right outside the perimeter — because they knew my friend the monk was there. So they redeemed themselves.
Support for Bringing War Home comes from Utah State University, the National Endowment for the Humanities Dialogues on the Experience of War and Utah Humanities.
