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What My Lai Taught Me About War and Humanity
Lessons from a visit to the site of Vietnam’s most infamous massacre
My Lai, Vietnam.
The very name ought to send shivers of shame through the soul of every American (and, through association, ours too).
I visit this small Vietnamese village because I have to.
For me, it is a time of reflection as well as an apology for my belonging to the human race.
This place is the Auschwitz-Birkenau of Vietnam and its memory is just as carefully preserved.
We ought to approach here on our hands and knees…
Some context about why I am here
When I first decided to travel by motorcycle through Vietnam, I wrestled with the ever-present spectre of the War.
I felt uncomfortable at the prospect of writing about a journey through a beautiful country, filled with gentle and gracious people, without making reference to that part of its history which laid bare the souls of all who fought here, whatever their nationality.
I grew up in the 60s. I was alive during that time. Each day, profoundly moved and often to tears, I watched the news footage, looked with horrified fascination at the photographs…
