The following are accounts of three experiences I had with children in Viet Nam while I was a machine gunner with 1st Platoon, Company A, 2nd of the 12th Cavalry.

In November, 1965, we were on a mission in a place called Happy Valley.  I do not know if that was the true name of the place, or if it was a name given it by the brass.  We had been patrolling the rice paddies for about three days without any contact with Charlie.

My company had set up for the night outside this one small village.  Some of the children, ages perhaps six to ten years, were quite curious about us.  Four or five of them approached my gun crew.  None of them spoke any English, but they understood it when we offered them some chocolate and cookies, C-Rat kind.  After awhile they left us and returned to their ville.

Just prior to dark, three young girls approached our position chattering very excitedly.  One of the girls was holding a live hand grenade out in front of her with both hands.  She was terribly frightened.

We relieved her of the grenade, and our platoon leader tried to determine where she had found it.  I don't know if he, or the brass determined where she acquired it.

In early January, 1966.  I was in the ville at An Khe.  I had blown off all the steam I cared to.  I did not care to drink any more, or to waste any more of the piasters I had.  I was just looking around at the various clip joints when a young girl of about seven years old came up to me.  She took my hand and said in broken English, "You Come."  I had no idea what she wanted,  but I figured she was trying to get me to buy something. 

I pulled away and told her " Di, di".  She became more insistent, grabbing my hand and pleading, "You come."  What the heck.  I allowed her to pull me along to a small tin building.  She opened the door. 

To my surprise, there sat about twenty children in crude desks.  The young girl introduced me to her teacher, a man about my age.  I spent one of the most satisfying hours of my time in Viet Nam working with the teacher and the children trying to teach them some simple phrases in English.  I left the ville that day feeling as though I had befriended some of the children of Viet Nam.

In mid-January, 1966, we were back in "Happy Valley".  This time the situation was different. 

Intelligence had it that Charlie was very strong in the portion of the valley we were moving into.  As the choppers dropped us at an LZ, artillery was blasting the heck out of a ville some quarter of mile from the LZ.  We moved out toward the ville.  When we arrived, members of my platoon started rounding up everyone in the ville.

As they brought the women and children out, the children were screaming in terror, clutching their mothers, or other women.  I will never forget the looks they, the children gave me, as they and their mothers were rounded up.  In their eyes, I am certain, I was a demon.

I often wonder what happened to those children.  I wonder what their attitudes toward Americans turned out to be.  In the first case, did they view us as protectors from harm?  In the second case, as caring people willing to help with their education?  In the last instance, as destroyers and wreakers of havoc on their poor miserable lives? 

I hope that, among those who survived, not all of them will remember us  as destroyers.

Webmaster note:    On May 8th 2007 Dan Nguyen, a Medic with Company A, 1/12th Cavalry was killed in Iraq. He was of a descendant of Vietnamese parents.