It is rare for me to study a particular topic and not change my mind about the first work on this topic that read in the course of my studies. Michael Bilton and Kevin Sim's book is such a rare case. It is as good in retrospect as it was when it introduced me to the My Lai massacre. It is the thoughts that their work is interspersed with that make it superior to all others, in my opinion.
Besides their meticulous, engaging recounting of the different perspectives of those who were directly or indirectly involved in the event, I was most impressed with the authors' take on the idea of war as hell. The historians and journalists that I have read so far can be divided into two categories: the ones in the first category have embraced the fatalistic view that since war is inherently brutal, nothing can be done to avoid atrocities like My Lai and the ones in the second category are tempted by the idea that modern war can be something other than what war has always been – hell. Bilton and Sim understand that both sides err to a certain extent.
Those who maintain the stance that war can be humane, such as legislators who make up rules of war built around the ideas of using minimum force and protecting civilians, demonstrate that they have a lot of humanity but not enough experience. As the great military strategist Carl von Clausewitz observed: "it is to no purpose, it is even against one's own interest, to turn away from the consideration of the real nature of the affair because the horror of its elements excites repugnance." Instead of heeding Clausewitz's advice, the military and civilian officials at every level flooded the Vietnam conflict with measures designed to somehow obscure the true nature of this war and paid a bitter price. As the authors point out, it was useless for generals to complain afterwards that the Vietnam conflict had not been any more horrible than the Korean War and the Second World War, that the American people should have known atrocities are an inseparable part of a military conflict, that the pictures of children turned into human torches by napalm represented the reality of war, because Americans had not been prepared for this reality. "An army with its head in the clouds had been sent to war by a nation with its head in the sand." It was natural that when Americans finally pulled their heads out of the metaphorical sand, many turned against the war. The American soldiers in Vietnam did the same when they found out that fighting was something strikingly different from what they had been led to believe by Hollywood, that they were losing blood and comrades for the lies that the government and the media were telling the home front. Their disillusionment was well-expressed by one ex-infantryman: "Fuck you, John Wayne [star of many Western and war movies during Hollywood's Golden Age]."
However, as the authors emphasize, that war is hell is neither a sufficient explanation nor a justification for My Lai and similar atrocities. Such thinking only provides the tempting but corrupting logic that war itself is somehow to blame for the massacre – that there is nothing that can be done to stop it and therefore it is unjust to blame individual soldiers or officers, or a particular strategy or policy. However, although by the time of Lieutenant Calley's trial this thinking had been impressed on the general public, the American Army itself refused to accept such a justification of what happened in My Lai. Soldiers went to war to become heroes, not villains. The Army could not leave the idea that the soldiers' daily activities involved massacre unchallenged.
The My Lai massacre was a disaster for the American Army. In the military's view, it was not an inevitable aspect of a brutal war. It was an aberration. "Your dismay could be no greater than mine," Army Secretary Resor told the press. "It is an appalling story." He went on to insist that My Lai was not representative of how the Americans in Vietnam conducted the war. Interestingly, although this statement rejected the idea that war is hell, the result was again an attempt to justify the actions of the Army. Resor essentially isolated My Lai from the war as a whole. Charlie Company, in his story, was a freak unit and Calley was an incompetent officer, so there was no reason to blame anyone up the chain of command. This is another misleading theory. My Lai was not an exception, but a culmination of the policy the American government was pursuing in Vietnam.
The irony of Vietnam is that those who controlled the course of the war were too far away from the action to make a distinction between the Viet Cong and the Vietnamese civilians, and the burden of exercising restraint and humanity fell to the common soldier. The war was fought not by strategy-makers, but by eighteen-year-old boys. There is little in the history of past military conflicts that suggests that people can practice moral behavior in combat situations. Resor insisted that the Americans operated "under detailed directives which prohibit in unambiguous terms the killing of civilian noncombatants." It is true that at any point of the Vietnam conflict there were piles of such "detailed directives", but these directives did little beyond demonstrating the good intentions of those military officials who were responsible for good intentions. On the ground, there were only enraged soldiers and vain commands. No effort was made to get the "detailed directives" through to the lower levels of the American Army. The medical personnel who served in voluntary hospitals in the province where Pinkville was located were shocked but not surprised when they heard that American soldiers had murdered five hundred civilians. If Resor's "detailed directives" had any authority over the Americans, as he insisted, why were the doctors and nurses not surprised?
I like that Bilton and Sim acknowledge that the question if the men of Charlie Company received an explicit order to kill everyone in the village is unresolved instead of assuming the answer. According to them, Charlie's men's testimonies diverged. Many remembered hearing the order clearly and explicitly. Other said that the order to kill everyone including the old men, women, and children was only implied. The answer to this question is not that vital, though. The authors raise a far more important question: what had happened that had led the majority of men in Charlie Company to believe that American officers could ever consider murdering a whole village of civilians? Why weren't Charlie Company's members surprised?
One disturbing explanation the authors offer is that the generals, although they refused to admit it, spoke with two voices. They demanded aggression and restraint, high body counts and benevolence, victory and respectability. Throughout the My Lai investigation and subsequent trials, the Army used its "detailed directives" as a shield that successfully prevented a closer examination of the search-and-destroy strategy, high body counts, and free fire zones because it would have taken the responsibility too high up the chain of command. However, their attempt to dump the blame for My Lai only on Calley and the alleged degradation of discipline of Charlie Company is a distortion of facts. Philip Caputo, a marine lieutenant who spoke for the many American men who understood that there was something more than the inherent brutality of My Lai that made American boys to kill civilians, moved the blame high up the chain of command, to MACV Commander General Westmoreland's strategy of attrition that, according to Caputo, affected the behavior of the American soldiers. "Our mission was not to win terrain or seize positions, but simply to kill: to kill Communists and kill as many of them as possible. [Here the blame goes further up, to Secretary of Defense Robert S. McNamara and his numbers.] Stack 'em up like cordwood. Victory was a high body count, defeat a low kill ratio, war a matter of arithmetic. The pressure on unit commanders to produce enemy corpses was intense, and they in turn communicated it to their troops . . . It is not surprising, therefore, that some men acquired a contempt for human life and a predilection for taking it."
FOUR HOURS IN MY LAI is a work that I can go on and on about. Its value lies in the impressive depth of its analysis. Bilton and Sim give the reader so much food for thought. This book engages and forces you to think and analyze yourself. An outstanding achievement. I highly recommend it.