Birds Landing, 1967

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The Marines of the 22nd Regiment were in South Vietnam, somewhere in the rainforest near the mountains of Saigon. They were waiting, eagerly, for their extraction from the village of Than Thoi, which they had just burned to the ground. Their orders had been clear: “Search and destroy everything in your path,” Major Cliff had told them. These “Seek and destroy” missions meant sending platoons, companies or detachments of one size or another out from a fortified position, so they could seek out and destroy any Vietcong units hiding in the wilderness. The Vietcong were the Communist guerrillas who tormented the local populations, and were the USA’s greatest enemy. The soldiers smoked cigarette after cigarette, scribbling lines in their notebooks, stretching their legs and cleaning their M16s. The helicopters filled the sky like flocks of wild geese. Amidst the thundering of blades and dust, the marines formed lines. Major Cliff would be the last man to leave the battlefield. The first two helicopters set down, as a dozen or so soldiers hustled to climb aboard.

In the afternoon, the women of Than Thoi would be busy repairing the roofs of their huts, weaving and knotting palm fronds with casual skill. Then, as night fell, they made supper outside around a warm fire, stirring clear broths or sticky rice. The children ran after the chickens, sticks in hand, their joyful cries mingled with the birds’ panicked clucking. Eventually the men would come home from the paddies, their loose shirts soaked with sweat and their faces browned under straw hats. Such was the life of the villagers, until the cock crowed on the dawning of this hot, hellish day. As usual, the children stole out of the huts to play together, the mothers swept the dust from their huts and the fathers dressed for work. As usual, the black pigs hurried to their troughs, and the old gray horse was hitched to its cart, and the chief’s dog stood guard. Suddenly, the villagers heard the unfamiliar sounds of boots on the forest floor, and of fingers pulling triggers. The 22nd regiment had come to disrupt their peaceful routine. Major Cliff approached the village chief, who bowed before him with his hands clasped in a gesture of respect.

                  “You gooks hiding any VC in this village?” bellowed the commander.

                  “No VC here! No VC!”

                  “So where are they hiding, you dumb sonofabitch?”

The village chief motioned to the surrounding forest. Major Cliff had heard this script before; in every village they passed through, the answer was the same: “No VC here!” He ordered his troops to search the village from top to bottom. The marines emptied out every sack they could find, hoping to find guns or rebels that would justify this heartless act. They found only rice. They slashed open mattresses, sending feathers flying in all directions, then they pillaged the village shrine. Family portraits were smashed to pieces. Offerings and statues were destroyed or taken. As the marines entered the huts, women rushed out with babies in their arms. They wept, fearing the worst. The children were terrified. Their elders were powerless against the dispassionate cruelty of Seek and Destroy.

The village chief could not contain his anger, and raised up an axe he had hidden in a bale of hay. He leapt at Major Cliff with a war cry, for the honor of Than Thoi. The commander raised his rifle; the revolt was extinguished within a second.

The marines took out their Zippos and lit the huts on fire. The mothers wailed in rage and hatred, as they watched the life they had spent building this village being consumed by American fire. Flames tore across the woven rooftops, as plumes of black smoke rose into the sky. The first huts collapsed under the ferocity of the inferno. The women closed their eyes, and the children cried.

All that remained of Than Thoi was ash and the blackened, frightened faces of its people. What would they do now? All they had was gone, destroyed. One by one the marines climbed into the helicopters, ready to fly off to another village. They left a trail of cruelty behind them, as was the way of Seek and Destroy.

Alan Alfredo Geday