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When I was younger, 1990s, I shared a back yard with an older bloke. An alcoholic. Wracked with PTSD, he told me that duringvthe Vietnam war, recruiters had gone to Pentridge Prisonin Melbourne and offered to get people out if they volunteered for Vietnam.
This guy had been in for armed robbery. He stuck some people up with a starter's pistol and got caught. Stupid, unlucky. Now, at 20 years old, he's in Vietnam at the pointy end.
He lived in a shed when I knew him. He drank during the day and had nightmares and cried at night.
He lived in a shed when I knew him. He drank during the day and had nightmares and cried at night.
One night his screaming had me banging on his door. He trusted me and told me this...
His unit had captured some Viet Cong "suspects" among whom were a number of kids, 12, 13 year olds. They were being interrogated.
His pain was due to the fact that he knew.
His unit had captured some Viet Cong "suspects" among whom were a number of kids, 12, 13 year olds. They were being interrogated.
His pain was due to the fact that he knew.
Despite his pleas, every one of these "suspects" was taken away and shot. Adults and kids alike. Children.
This destroyed him. It happened in 1966.
I know bad things happen. It's war.
But it's never ok to murder non-combatants or prisoners in uniform.
It IS who we are.
End.
This destroyed him. It happened in 1966.
I know bad things happen. It's war.
But it's never ok to murder non-combatants or prisoners in uniform.
It IS who we are.
End.
