Day 68
I just had a great conversation with Josie. We sat together at lunch and talked about Vietnam. This country has really had an effect on me. Josie and I wondered about the Vietnam war and the things that happened—things that I had never he
ard about. We never learned about the Vietnam War in school. Josie mused that it must be because our teachers and parents lived through the war. It was so recent in their minds, that they just took it for granted that we knew about it. So we were never taught. As a result, my generation doesn't know anything unless they sought it out themselves.
I hate to say that I've always been sensitive to the atrocities and unfairness in the world. That sounds narcissistic. I was aware of them, though, and didn't like them. However, I was never aware of all of it. I guess that would be impossible. This trip has opened my eyes in ways I never expected it to. I don't understand why I get so much, why my life is so easy, when there are so many people who suffer. Some things I know would take more than just me to fix, like hunger. But there are some things that just shouldn't ever happen, like the torture of children.
We also talked about how civilized people could ever do those kinds of things. I just can't figure out how human beings can be so advanced and intelligent, and at the same time they do such deplorable things. These sick people and their actions are often described as animalistic, but animals don't do these kinds of things to each other. They're sub-animal.
If you're having trouble understanding what I am talking about, go read my last blog entry, or google it.
I can't believe how biased I am. You learn about Nazis and their crimes, or other war crimes committed by other nations, thinking that Americans were above all that. But why? Those people are human just like we are. Then Josie and I talked about how we don't think we could ever do those things either. But the Vietnam soldiers probably considered themselves above torture as well before they left.
I wish they would explain themselves. It's not just, “I was following orders.” I can understand that. There have been psychology experiments done on that. What's the excuse for torturing and tearing people apart? Who gave the orders to dismember, decapitate and otherwise mutilate innocent civilians? I can understand if orders were to kill everyone. I don't agree with it, but I understand it. But that means kill them in the most humane way possible.
The best way to describe how I felt and feel is the way a German would feel if they visited the Holocaust museum. I can't comprehend the vicious way American soldiers treated potentially innocent Vietnamese. What purpose does it serve to slaughter a child? What have they ever done? What threat do they pose? And then how do the people who allow that kind of atrocity to happen become elected politicians? They should have been sent straight to jail.
But then, at the same time I feel so much sympathy for the people who fought over there. They had to deal with so much. Just a few hours at the Cu Chi tunnels freaked me out. How can you live with the constant fear of being shot, stepping into a booby trap or stepping on a land mine? And it was constant. Hearing gunshots all the time, not knowing where they were coming from, if they were friend or foe. That's not something I could deal with. I would never move knowing that every step I took could end up with me impaled on bamboo, stabbed with long spikes or blowing up.
It's not fair that they were blamed by the American public. They had to deal with a lot over there. They did many wrong things, but there's no way of knowing if you wouldn't have acted the same way.
Oh, when I think about it I hate myself. I know there's nothing I could do; it's not my fault. But I can't help but feel responsible knowing that it could have been my parent, uncle, grandfather, minister or neighbor fighting over there. I know that not every soldier was so demented, but they must have at least seen or known someone who did do those things. If I had been born a generation earlier, it could have been me.
Why am I not one of those children confined to a bed every day of my life because of something my parents were exposed to as children? Even they were lucky to be alive instead of shot as infants or disemboweled as children or beheaded as adults. Sometimes I can't look at myself in the mirror with all the stupid stuff I have that I don't need. Why am I the lucky one getting to travel around the world? This child probably deserves it much more than I do. I hate that I feel so helpless. I don't know how to feel toward Vietnam veterans. I know they deserve much more respect than they are typically given, but then I think, do they?
I can't believe that there were pictures hanging in the museum as part of the exhibit that children had painted of peace, love and forgiveness. I am dumbfounded by their ability to forgive what we put them through. I can't even forgive what we did. I hope that someday I can, but right now I can't forgive that cruelty.
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