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Three Hots and a Cot: Living With the Horrors of Vietnam

By Patrick McNulty

In my experience, the vast majority of people see Navy Vets as having had "three hots and a cot," daily showers and cruising oceans from one sea port to the next. I served in the Navy and am a combat veteran of the Vietnam War. My experiences, and the horror that my shipmates and I are still undergoing, do not fit those biases about the Navy.

Between September 13 and 17, 1966 everything I ever knew to be true changed in a few short days. I was aboard the USS. Stormes, DD-780, a destroyer. My duties consisted of aft lookout. During combat operations my General Quarters station was Gun Turret #2. Our assignment was close-in coastal support (500 to 5,000 yards) of the I Corps, Intelligence Tactical operating in the coastal region of Hue and Da Nang, utilizing Naval Gunfire Liaison Officer (NGLO) area of South Vietnam during operation Lien Kiet-59 supporting the 2nd Army of the Republic of Vietnam (ARVN) and the 2nd US Advisory Group.

Our region of operation was located east of the mountains and known as "Brown Water." It was a narrow rolling piedmont area which quickly gave way to a flat, wet coastal plain area consisting of rivers and rice paddies beyond which lie the beaches of the South China Sea. Most of the Vietnamese population lived in these flat lands, either in the thousands of fishing villages and hamlets interspersed among the rice fields or in the large cities of Hue and Da Nang.

On 13 September 1966, we received an Emergency Call from I Corps to proceed to Mo Duc, South Vietnam. My General Quarters duty station was in Gun Battery 2, loader station. Very early in the morning, while the people were still sleeping, we began firing on the village of Mo Duc at a range of 1,500 yards off the coast, ceasing fire just before daybreak.

I returned to the fantail area and could see the devastation; fire and smoke, and I could smell the burning flesh of the attack. I did not know what to think! I felt as if a switch had been turned off in my mind.

A few hours later, we were again sent to General Quarters and resumed shelling Mo Duc from an even closer range. Mid morning, the crew and spotter of PCF-21 Riverine Force, a swift boat, came aboard and informed us that we had destroyed a church and school killing over 235 civilians (women and children) and some Viet Cong.

I was horrified. I had joined the Navy to be a Hospital Corpsman, to keep others alive — make a small difference to others well being - not to be a part of a massacre of innocent women and children! I could not believe that we had destroyed a church and school while the children there were asleep! Who in their right mind would order the destruction of a church and school? We did not win a victory or a battle. We were not shot at or threatened. We simply slaughtered those children at 0300 AM out of nowhere. We knew that we had targeted a church and school from the radio reports by the NGLO, stating that the guerrillas and political agents were concealed among the civilians. I just could not comprehend the justification of ARVN sacrificing those young lives.

In the afternoon we were ordered to resume firing. At this time I was terrified, I did not want to be a part of this slaughter but I felt as if I had no choice other than to go to my station and do my "duty." At some point I began to feel numb about all of it, helpless to do anything about my actions and a sense of intense guilt that remains until today.

That evening, the smoking lamp was lit and many of us gathered in the fantail area. I was to stand aft lookout watch. As we were trying to calm down, I focused my binoculars on the nearest village (about 1,000 to 1,200 yards). There were body parts in trees, women and children lay dead and blown into pieces along the shore line near the fishing boats. I was sick, disgusted with what we had done to innocent civilians, ashamed of being involved...I passed the binoculars to my shipmates so that they could see the devastation. Everyone was curious — so many of us had joined the Navy thinking that we would not be actively participating in the killing. When we saw what we had done, many of us cried, some prayed and some were sick to their stomachs. Many of us were so shocked at the maiming we could not talk.

At midnight we opened fire on another fishing village destroying homes and the inhabitants of the homes. We ceased fire at 0002 AM and awaited the next "body count" from the swift boat advisors. The ARVN spotter was calling fire into one village, and the next, and the next.

On Wednesday, 14 September 1966, our assignment was to unmask shore batteries supporting Operation Lien Kiet-59. Lien Kiet was a small rice farming/fishing village. When we ceased fire, everything and everyone in that village were burned to bits. The radio chatter from the NGLO and ARVN spotter informed us that a body count would be forthcoming and our attack had been successful. The smell of the burning bodies and phosphorous remain one of my nightmares to this day. My ethics left me the very first day of the slaughter and I functioned as an automaton. I still question my own ethics even though I know right from wrong and I can tell you that our slaughtering of these innocent children was and is wrong. The numbness of my feelings has never left.

That night and the days that followed, we continued firing many rounds of 5"/38 HF-PD, 5"/38 white phosphorous, 5"/38 AAC, on separate targets, all coastal villages. We secured from General Quarters and moved on to our next victims. At times, we fired for harassment and interdiction in the bay areas. Some times, in the darkness, we could not see the targets we were firing upon, but the flames and the stench let us know that again we had devastated a village at close range.

I remember the exact hours of every day that we commenced and ceased firing. I remember the exact coordinates when we commenced firing, the exact number of rounds we fired, and what kind of rounds we used. The body count of that one-day, September 13, 1966, was more than 235. The estimated body count for the week, according to the 1966 Pacific Area Naval Operations Review is over 1,000 killed and 1,200 injured.

Over the past 44 years, I have tried to forget but I cannot. These five days of nearly continuous attack on the coastal and delta villages of Vietnam changed me forever. I feel such a deep guilt and rage at having been involved in this.

Today, I am still confused about all of it. I do not understand the justification, I get depressed, I can hear those children screaming and crying in fear, I still see the flames! Every time I drive near a school I think of those Vietnamese children we were ordered to kill: they were innocent! I cannot drive past a nursery, kindergarten, school or church without wondering about those children we killed on September 13, 1966 — how did the survivors deal with the anger and rage of their deaths?

At times, the guilt of participating in these slaughters, that should never have happened, brings me to a point of wanting to detach from everyone and everything. I have lived my life in remote areas as far away from people as I could get. I have never had children. I married at age 54 and after 4 years divorced; she could not take my night sweats — nightmares — forgetfulness — depression — and so on. I have no close friends, my relatives think I am insane and we do not communicate. Today, I still can have bouts of that detachment from people and places.

I was raised by the ocean and today, after more than 40 years, I still cannot go to a beach or river; I see those innocent victims and I just cannot cope with it.

I have lost any faith I ever had in God and people. Prior to Vietnam, I was very active in my Catholic Church. Today I find it difficult to have a belief in a God of any kind. I don't know at what point during those five days in Vietnam it happened, but I feel as if I lost my soul.

Sometimes the flashbacks of seeing those bodies blown apart, the children especially, brings about a cold sweat and a confusion with what is real and what is not. Whenever that happens I do not know what to do next. I am not employable. I "space out."

I do not know how to deal with the anger and rage of having been put in the position of participating in such a gruesome act. I have participated in PTSD groups, I have been to the sleep apnea clinic and I continue my psychiatric appointments at El Paso VA. Sometimes the medication helps — sometimes it doesn't help at all — but no matter what — I see and feel those innocent children.

To say that civilians are just a casualty of war is crazy! These people were only trying to survive — they were poor, women and children, old men and women — that were simply trying to stay alive and we slaughtered them.

I was and remain enraged, sick to my stomach, sad that we killed innocent people, ashamed at having taken part in this slaughter, angry at having been forced to be a part of this butchering.

Patrick McNulty is a Vietnam Veteran and served in the Navy. His unit received the Battle Star for their service. He is a student at Eastern New Mexico University. He is an active member of VVAW and has participated in marches from San Francisco to Washington DC. He has worked with draft dodgers from Denver, Michigan, New York areas and transported them to Toronto, Canada. After amnesty, he participated in helping those men to return home. Today, Patrick is working with many Iraq and Afghanistan vets and trying to help them with the transition to a civilian life. Patrick has received his verification as a participant in the VA Agent Orange Registry and has received many years of treatment for PTSD. He continues his battle with the VA to receive benefits for Agent Orange related illnesses as well as chronic PTSD.