A Civilian Medics Day Trip To A Wartime Vietnamese Hamlet

 In the hot sweltering heat, which seemed to take the strength from me, and feeling older than twenty-eight, I walked down the winding jungle path, trying to carefully match the footprints of the Vietnamese guide in front of me. To ensure that I was not mistaken for the military, I wore a white medical shirt and white trousers. Hopefully, it gave some visual identification to the Viet Cong and would not be subject to ambush, a thin veil of protection I admit.   I had to focus and be alert! The Viet Cong expertly concealed crude traps and manholes lined with punji sticks which would drive into a foot or leg and concealed tripwires that set off an explosive device that would mangle or tear off a limb. 

 It was sometime in the summer of 1967 when the hamlet chief sent word asking me to come to the chief's hamlet to give medical care to his people. Early in the morning, I received word to drive from the Cam Ranh Bay Air Force base in the direction of Nha Trang, Vietnam, an area controlled by the Viet Cong. After an hour or so of driving on route one, a torn-up potholed road, we were directed to follow another bumpy dirt jungle road until it abruptly ended. 

I worked for the RMK-BRJ construction company since November 1965, living in the Vietnamese work camp caring for three thousand Vietnamese employees, the only American or foreigner to do so; giving me the advantage of learning their culture, history, and aspirations, unlike the American military and political establishments. 

The Vietnamese had conducted jungle guerrilla warfare for one thousand years against Chinese occupation until The Chinese withdrew. Using the same hit and run guerrilla tactics, they defeated the French at Dien Bein Phu, in May of 1954, and now it was the Americans, and its allies turn to be sucked into the swamp, fighting a competent and determined Viet Cong and North Vietnamese Army.

Vietnam existed since 2879 BC and ravaged by civil wars and repeatedly attacked by China, Mongols, Chams, Dutch, French, Japan, and now fighting the Americans. It was evident that the American planners never studied the military history of Vietnam or tried to understand them, nor did they know the South Vietnamese and less the North Vietnamese. Or were we so arrogant that we failed to recognize the motivating factor of the North Vietnamese desire to unite South and North Vietnam again as one nation and one people, against the corrupt Southern Vietnamese government?  

There seemed to exist an unwritten gentleman's agreement between the Vietnamese and me. Sometimes I would be warned of an impending Viet Cong attack and cautioned not to go off the military base. Also, I felt that I and my white ambulance with red crosses would not be purposely a target for attack. Indiscriminate fire, such as rocket and roadside bombs or Viet Cong infiltrating the base, was another matter, as no protection is guaranteed. The construction company realized the public relations benefits and didn't object to me going off base to treat Vietnamese in the hamlets. Hopefully, goodwill would extend to American workers building roads and bridges along the highway,  and they would not be subject to attack.

After a two hour walk or so, sweating from the oppressive heat and humidity, we arrived at the outskirts of the hamlet, which nestled between several hills and crisscrossing rice paddies. Vietnamese rice farmers in black pajamas, their pant leggings pulled up above the knees, struggled in the rice paddy, urging their water buffalos to pull the wooden plow through the black water mud. Large crater holes pot marked the green fields and rice paddies from old and recent air and artillery attacks, which disturbed the peaceful scenery.

 Passing a small bamboo thatched hut with squawking chickens, an old woman was carefully plucking head lice from a small child sitting in her lap. Then the old woman bites the head of the lice off, puts the body of the insect into the hand of the child who flips it into her mouth while the old woman searches the child's scalp for more lice. 

Walking further into the hamlet, I saw a long brown Python snake draped across the steps and into the entrance and room of a thatched house. 

The guide seeing the surprised look on my face said: "We keep them; they eat rats." Then giggling, he said: "One snake ate a baby during the night last month." 

I grimaced at the thought of the giant snake wrapping itself around the baby, slowly squeezing it to death than swallowing the baby whole, but kept silent. 

I had become accustomed to seeing strange customs and happenings and accepted the mysteries of Vietnam, and became familiar with the habits and superstitions of the Vietnamese people, especially the various ethnic tribes and country people.

In the center of the hamlet, I set up under a thatched bamboo overhead sun shelter. About thirty Vietnamese young and old, rapidly gathered to be seen for treatment or to watch for entertainment. With the help of my guide in translating, I treated the usual complaints, skin rashes, minor superficial wounds, boils, conjunctivitis, and diarrhea. The hamlets chief brought me his ten-year-old son complaining about the boy's face, which I recognized to be Tinea Versicolor, a fungus infection that caused spotting or patches of skin to become lighter in color than the surrounding skin. An easy case for me to treat, and I should win many gratitudes points from the hamlet chief. Using medical strength "Selsun," a creamy orange color cream, I lightly scrubbed it on the affected area and gave instructions to apply it twice a day, knowing the affected skin would gradually appear normal in a few weeks.

Needing a break, the guide and I joined the circle of men at the hamlet square, greeted and bowed to the hamlet chief and elders, and sat down opposite to them. The men, regardless of their age, were physically lean and in good shape from working daily in the rice fields. The elders probably were experienced jungle fighters who had fought against the Japanese and then the French during and after the second world war. Now, most likely, some young and old were part-time Viet Cong, who resisted the corrupt South Vietnamese government and the American military and its allies.

 We made small talk with my guide translating back and forth; sometimes, everybody burst out with laughter because of a wrong or confusing translation. The men were in a joyful, relaxed mood; I had to maintain my mental alertness and to avoid making a common mistake or inadvertently insult somebody.

The hamlet women steamed up over the fire pit, bamboo leaves filled with rice and wrapped around pork meat, which was neatly wrapped up in the bamboo leaf and tried up with bamboo string. An old woman smiling broadly with a black grin caused by chewing beetle nut juice over the years, which turned her teeth and gums black and cemented her decaying teeth into place, handed me some to eat. Finishing the meal, I covered my mouth with one hand as I used a bamboo toothpick to clean my teeth. I thought it strange the Vietnamese considered it appalling etiquette to expose one's teeth while picking their teeth; meanwhile, naked young children ran around or clung to their parents while we ate.   

Nearby I saw an old Vietnamese man sitting on the ground, working carefully on a long bamboo stick. He held the end of a  bamboo stick, clutching it with his toes like a vice as he carefully cut a notch at the stick end. Using thin dried bamboo fletching instead of bird feathers as the American native Indians did, he neatly folded the dried thin bamboo strips and inserted them into a slit at the end of the bamboo shaft. He then  wrapped a string around the shaft in front and end of the bamboo fletching and tied it. Switching the bamboo shaft end to end, he carefully sharpened the point and carved a hook notch behind the point. Expertly completed was a bamboo arrow, ready to be fired from a primitive but deadly crossbow.   

Time was running out; we had better start the trek back to our vehicle and drive to the safety of the military base. The Viet Cong and North Vietnamese Army owned the night. Nobody in their right mind would be out here unless they had the firepower and plenty of it.

 With the hamlet children and elders clustered around us, the guide and I said our goodbyes to the hamlet chief and departed, hoping that we had left some goodwill in the hamlet. 

Reviews

[M.E.Lyle]

This is an interesting piece of history. I like how you tell the story. My older brother was a medic for the 101st airborne. After being deployed for only two months he and his platoon were ambushed in an alleyway. He was wounded while attending a downed soldier. He was a replacement to another madic who had gotten his head shot off during an outing.That was the end to my brothers Vietnam experience.
A good friend of his Rick St.Johns wrote a book about the experience. My brother is mentioned in it
The book is Tiger Bravo's War. It's quite interesting as is your work.
Thanks for sharing.

[Vic Hundahl]

Dear Lyle, Thank you for your comments, and please thank your brother for his service in Vietnam. I relate with him very well. I wrote an article about my experiences with US Army troopers in Vietnam. I will never forget their faces. Read three of your writings and liked them. A very different writing style from mine. I can learn from them.

[M.E.Lyle]

Thanks for checking out my writings. I tend not to take things too seriously.
I have a long way go, and a lot to learn about this writing stuff.
Thanks again.

[emmajoy]

Fascinating, interesting - to say the least. A world I knew little about til reading your relaxed yet detailed information, story. But in fact, could not be more than factual.. it is history absolute. Each paragraph holds a hidden chapter of what could be a far longer story or more so - a book. Amazingly clear, touching in parts, raw and unpleasant in others. I need learn more. Take care, keep safe.

[Coyote Poetry]

I enjoyed the story. I did a lot of water/food and medico missions in Central American. I children loved us. I liked the photo. I volunteered for any mission to escape to other countries. You are a story teller my friend. Thank you for sharing the excellent story my friend.
Coyote