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Michael HerrA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
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A young Marine is finishing up his tour in Khe Sanh. Khe Sanh has surpassed Con Thien as the most embattled part of the region. Herr thinks the tall blonde Marine from Michigan is about twenty, but it is hard to guess the ages of the Marines that served in Khe Sanh “since nothing like youth ever lasted in their faces for very long” (87).
On the last morning of his tour, the young man packs his bags, jokes around with the men he is leaving behind, and gives the few joints he has to his best friend.
The Khe Sanh airstrip is worse than most. There’s a trench nearby, and when the helicopter lands, those in the trench make a mad dash for the helicopter, trying to avoid getting picked off by enemy gunfire, as those in the aircraft jump off and run for the relative safety of the trenches.
When it is time for the Marine to leave the trenches and run for the helicopter, it is the absence of gunfire that keeps him glued to the spot. When he returns to the bunker, the other men laugh it off, but after he fails again to get on a helicopter, the company gunnery sergeant starts to worry about him. Two friends escort him to the trenches, but again, he never makes it onto the helicopter. When Herr leaves Khe Sanh, the young man is still there. The military has named his condition “acute environmental reaction”:
Most Americans would rather be told that their son is undergoing acute environmental reaction than to hear that he is suffering from shell shock, because they could no more cope with the fact of shell shock than they could with the reality of what had happened to this boy during his five months at Khe Sanh (91).
The U.S. Military Command has divvied up Vietnam into sections that take no account of the country’s natural geographic demarcations: the Highlands, or the way “the delta of Vietnam comprehends the Plain of reeds and frames the Saigon River” (92). In military briefings, Vietnam is broken up into parts, and “it would be impossible to know what Vietnam looked like from reading most newspaper stories as it would be to know how it smelled” (93).
The Highlands, particularly, loom large in the minds of the Americans who have seen action there. While many Montagnards, the indigenous people of the Highlands, sign up as mercenaries for the Allied forces, the mutual distrust between the Montagnards and the South Vietnamese has a negative impact on the cohesiveness of the alliance. It is generally assumed that the Montagnards are nomadic, but their nomadic lifestyle is a response to their crops being napalmed and their villages being destroyed in the fighting. The Highlands have an otherworldly feel to them, and unexplainable things seem to happen there. In the Battle of Dak To, there had been many U.S. casualties, but it was considered a win because it was assumed that the North Vietnamese casualties numbered approximately 4,000. However, after the battle, when the allies reached the top of the hill, they could only find four corpses.
There are some who think that the United States got involved in Vietnam, in part, because it was assumed that it would be an easy fight. It is a battle in the Ia Drang Valley, deep in the Central Highlands, that changes that assumption.
Between March and May of 1954, during the First Indochina War, there is the decisive Battle of Dien Bien Phu. The French plan had been to cut off the Viet Minh’s supply line, draw the enemy out, and then overpower them with superior firepower and air support. The result is that the Viet Minh surround the French troops and bring in antiaircraft artillery. The defeat of the French results in the French terminating their involvement in what was Indochina and is now Vietnam.
Thirteen years later, the U.S. forces are facing a situation in Khe Sanh that has many of the same hallmarks of the Battle of Dien Bien Phu. It is the Marines that hold Khe Sanh, and during press briefings the correspondents ask whether Khe Sanh is in danger of becoming what President Johnson calls “Dinbinfoo” (Dien Bien Phu). The ratio between attackers and defenders is similar, as are the terrain and weather conditions,which don’t favor air support. Like the trenches that the Viet Minh had dug in order to attack the French, the North Vietnamese Army is also “digging a network of trenches that would soon approach to within a hundred yards of the Marine wire” (100).
Herr asserts that the Marines were chosen to defend Khe Sanh because of the belief that one Marine is better than ten South Vietnamese soldiers, so that Marine squads are:
fed in against [North Vietnamese Army] platoons, platoons against companies, and on and on, until whole battalions found themselves pinned down and cut off. The belief was undying, but the [Marine] was not, and the Corps came to be called by many the finest instrument ever devised for the killing of young Americans (102).
There was only one week in the war that, proportionally, the Army lost more men than the Marines. Working with other outfits becomes somewhat of a disappointment for Herr, after being embedded with the Marines: “They got savaged a lot and softened a lot, their secret brutalized them and darkened them and very often it made them beautiful” (103).
During the war, it seems that leadership often turns a blind eye to the past when it doesn’t suit the story they’re trying to tell. Two books, The Battle of Dienbienphu, by Jules Roy, and Hell in a Very Small Place,by Bernard Fall, are making the rounds during the period that the Command has decided that Khe Sanh is going to be its set-piece battle. While the correspondents question the officers giving the press briefings about the similarities between the two, “Most were not interested in fielding questions about it, and the rest were unequipped” (100).
This compulsion to keep reinventing the wheel, and not looking to the past for guidance, holds real consequences for the military personnel on the ground. The young Marine who cannot bring himself to get on the helicopter at the end of his tour is experiencing “shell shock,” a term coined during WWI before “post-traumatic stress disorder” started being used in the 1980s. But instead of calling it something recognizable, that veterans have grappled with war after war, the leadership refers to it as “acute environmental reaction.” The tendency to conduct the war like everything is happening for the first time keeps the Marines in Khe Sanh from benefitting from the past experiences of others.
But of course, none of this is new. Just like the Marines at Khe Sanh, with eyes that “never had anything to do with what the rest of the face was doing,” Herr states that “If you take one of those platoon photographs from the Civil War and cover everything but the eyes, there is no difference between a man of fifty and a boy of thirteen” (87).