Like everyone else who survived through the American public school system, I took my fair share of history classes. In high school, I even took AP US History and AP European History. I took all those classes, and yet, I learned more about history from the 3 hours I spent watching Saving Private Ryan in my living room then I did all those years I spent in a classroom. Instead of just reading about history, for the first time I experienced history. A proverb says that weāre supposed to learn from history. In school I had learned history, but I had not learned from history. I knew that many people were killed in World War II, Adolf Hitler was an evil man, Jesse Owens symbolically defeated the Third Reich at the 1936 Berlin Olympics, etc, but it was only from SPR that I learned of the true brutality, destruction, and randomness of war. It permanently made me understand the true sacrifices made in war from the perspectives of both the victors and the victims. I could no longer take war and conflict lightly as I often did when I thought to myself, āoh jeez, letās just send in American troops and wipe them all out,ā whenever I would hear about an incident somewhere else in the world.
Saving Private Ryan is a great tool for Americans to learn from and use to understand their history, and while I may be classified as an American, letās face it: my heritage is Vietnamese. I donāt have any relatives or friends who were in America 60 years ago. I do, however, have an uncle who fought against the North in the Vietnam War. All my relatives experienced the conflict of those war times of Vietnam. I respect Americaās past, but knowing about it doesnāt really have any immediate impact on me. I personally wish I could get a little glimpse on what it was like for my relatives to live in such crazy times. My parents sacrificed so much to not only get to America, but to make a new life among strange faces and customs, and sometimes I feel like I can never match the contribution theyāve made in my life. Maybe if I could get a little closer to experiencing what they went through, I could feel closer to them in a way.
Iāve never really been able to find my own Saving Private Ryan I guess. Iāve begun to think, however, that I donāt necessarily have to find my answers through cinema. Iām an avid video game player, and the hot genre in gaming right now is the war-based action game. Often, in these games, you look into the game world from a first-person perspective. At first, all of the games had a WWII focus, but now games have started to move on to the Vietnam War (I guess people werenāt too excited about the possibility of MASH: The Game). About a year ago, a game called Vietcong came out for the PC. It got respectable reviews, and from what I read, it took the subject matter of the war seriously (and therefore realistically, from both sides of the conflict), so a few weeks ago I decided to go back into the past and become a US soldier in Vietnam. I wouldnāt really be reliving my relativesā lives, but maybe the game could give me a little insight into what times were like back then for them.
Before I could head off to war, though, I had to go through boot camp. There, we learned the usual: field tactics, weapons training, etc. Our drill sergeant could have easily been the twin of the foul-mouthed, berating drill sergeant in Full Metal Jacket, but I managed to survive. I had been through 3 tours of duty in WWII after all. When it was time to start the game, I had to choose the difficulty level. One in particular, stood out: Two levels above normal difficulty stood Vietnam, the hardest difficulty. Vietnam would be the only option for me.
I soon found myself on a helicopter flying to a US base camp at Nui Pek, talking to C.J. Hornster, a machine gunner and one of my new squad mates. I was Steve Hawkins, Sergeant First Class and certifiably white, a new transfer. We were flying above the infamous jungles of Vietnam, and as I looked down below, I wondered if any Viet Cong were looking back at me. When we touched down, I made introductions with the rest of the soldiers and met the Captain, who showed me my quarters and told me to get some shooting practice in at the range.
After I went through a few clips at the range, another soldier came to get me, saying that the Captain had requested me. I followed the soldier and found the Captain waiting next to a Jeep. It was time for my first mission: I, the Captain, and a medic would be going to a village near the Vietnamese/Cambodian border to meet the village elder and have a few drinks of rice wine. The medic was coming along to take a look at the village people and administer aid as needed. I didnāt think I would have any action on this mission, but as I got in the Jeep, I couldnāt help but smile as I realized that if I did, this white boy would have a secret weapon against the VC: I understood spoken Vietnamese, and I was pretty confident that if the VC tried to communicate in the field thinking no one else would be able to understand them, Iād be able to turn the tables on them.
When we arrived at the mountain village, I followed the Captain to meet the elder. This mission was a public relations mission of sorts; this village was one of the key ones the US wanted to keep from the VC, so we had to maintain a presence there. The elder greeted us and we waited for one of the children to bring out the ruou. The child came out with what, one would assume, a container for the wine, but before he got to us, a sound rang out, and the child fell down. Sniper! Damn! I went into a crouching position and I saw the Captain lying against the wall of a building in front of me, protected from the sniper. I crawled over to him and he gave me some instructions to go with him to the other side of the building so we could move together to take out the sniper. He went ahead, and I moved to follow him. Right as I turned the corner, I heard a BOOM. Suddenly, I saw myself leave my body and I could clearly see what had happened: I was dead.
After a few seconds, I remembered that I was playing a game and that still alive in the real world, Iād be able to restart the mission. I also soon learned that Iād be able to save 3 times per mission. That may seem like a lot to non-gamers, but most games allow unlimited saves, and the ability to save at any time. Vietnam was going to be tough (subtle pun).
I restarted the mission and had to go through the dĆ©jĆ vu process of waiting for the child with the wine to get shot down again. I crawled over to the Captain and we made our way around the building to the next point of cover. I got there with a slight bullet wound, and as the Captain spoke to me, I looked up for a split second to get a look at the sniper. The next thing I saw was my decapitated body. Dead. Again. I then decided to listen to the Captain and stay as hidden as possible at all times. Unfortunately, death seemed to be after me no matter what I did that day. That sniper should have been in the Olympics to save me the trouble of dying so many times, but I guess it can be difficult for people to focus on things like that in times of war.
If I wanted to experience Saving Private Ryan with this game, I certainly experienced it in the first mission. Games usually follow a strict rule set. You follow the rules and do what youāre supposed to do, and youāll probably survive. The Viet Cong didnāt care for these rules. I followed the Captainās lead, and I died. I was told to run when provided with covering fire, so I ran. And then I got shot and died. Death was random, cruel, and especially brutal; often when I died, not only would I lose my head (unoriginal pun) on certain occasions, it was normal to see myself with an arm or leg blown off as well.
Dying so often, I eventually noticed that after death, God would give me a look at who had shot me. Right after death, I would see my mangled body on the ground, and then my view was magically transported over to where I could see the sniper. The village was on top of one hill. The sniper was across from us on another hill, but in between us was a valley. That meant, to get to the sniper, weād have to go downhill into the valley and somehow make it up the next hill to get within range of the sniper. Of course, that would also make it very easy for the sniper to shoot us. Despite dying well over 30 times in the process, I, armed with key game saves, eventually made my way up the hill. When I got to the area where I thought the sniper was installed, he was gone. I didnāt have the mission complete signal, so that meant I had to go look for him. With no idea of where the sniper was and who else might be waiting in ambush for me, I slowly made my way through the grass. I looked back to see if the medic had my back covered, but I couldnāt find him anywhere. Coward! I walked around until I saw 2 men in the distance. I really didnāt know if they were VC, as I had never been taught about standard VC dress code, but I was āprettyā sure they were carrying weapons. I opened fire, killing one of them instantly. The other took cover, but I shot him when he poked his head out. I waited to see if anyone else would come out, but as no one did, I walked over to the dead bodies and searched them (they indeed had been armed). 2 down, and I got the signal that my mission was complete. I saw a third body laying dead separately from where I had killed the other two. I walked back towards the village and I was instantly transported back to my room at base camp.
In my room, I saw a number of documents on my desk. One was the mission briefing. It went over the details of the mission. For some reason, I had been credited with 3 kills, even though I am absolutely sure I killed two. Strange. Iām still not sure what happened to that third person I had found dead. Was he the sniper? Another strange thing that I remember now in hindsight is that I have no idea what happened to the village elder or the child who got shot. Did any of them survive? The report listed casualties on our side, which I assume included the villagers, but only the numbers were reported. The other documents included briefs about weapons, the history of Vietnam, VC traps and even information about ethnic minorities. There was a lot of background information there that helped me get a better understanding of what was going on and what Iād be facing. Apparently, I was even writing a diary about life in Vietnam as well.
Before our next mission, the Captain held a briefing and I got to meet the pointman (the guy who leads the group) for our next mission, Le Duy Nhut. Nhut talked a little about his background: He had originally helped in the Vietnamese struggle against the French. When the Communists took power, however, he defected to the Southern forces. āI hate Commies,ā he said. Well, so did I. That whatās we were all here for, right? We were here to kill all those gook sons of bitches. Nhut had spent some time with the VC before going over to the good guys, so he knew how to navigate through the jungle, and just as importantly, watch out for VC traps.
We flew into the jungle by helicopter. We all got out and I told Nhut to lead us down into the canyon we would be going through. Nhut replied, āYes, chung siā and we were on our way. Our group of 4 was small enough to move quietly and efficiently through the jungle, but large enough to stand a chance against whatever resistance we would face that day. I walked behind Nhut slowly, praying I wouldnāt walk right into pit full of spiked poles. I had attended the mission briefing, but I still wasnāt completely sure what I was supposed to be doing. All I knew is weād probably have to kill some VC along the way to wherever we were going, and I hoped that Nhut knew where he was taking us.
As Nhut led us through the jungle, we had a few encounters with the wildlife. At one point, Nhut raised his hand as a signal to stop for a moment and murmured, āCon khi. Monkey!ā A little later, I heard the sound of startled birds fly overhead out of the tees. I froze. From my experience with other games and movies, this surely meant that I had alerted the enemy forces. I hit the ground hoping I wouldnāt be seen. After staying on my stomach for a few minutes, and not hearing anything, I finally got up. It was a little embarrassing to notice that no one else had hit the ground as I did, and I told Nhut to continue. Eventually, we ran across some traps. Nhut showed me a trip wire on the jungle floor that was connected to a grenade; snag on the trip wire, the grenade would explode. Thankfully, I had the necessary skills to defuse the threat. Unfortunately, however, a little bit later, I was climbing over some rocks and as I climbed down, I stepped right into a spiked pole pit. Death made its claim upon me once again. Thankfully, after loading a game save, I uncovered it the next time and moved on, only to die a minute later when I fell into another pit. GOD DAMN ******!
We made steady progress through the mission. Whenever I encountered enemy forces, I found myself struggling to fire off a shot before I would be killed. Later, in another mission, I found out that the VC had been cheating all along. I didnāt know how they did it, but they could shoot me without seeing me or knowing where I was. Once, I was lying down behind brush that completely covered my location. In fact, the brush formed a sort of wall that I had used for cover as I crawled up a hill to get closer to the trenches the VC had dug. I lay there, waiting for the rest of my men to get up the hill so we could plan our next move. I was shot, but when God took me to meet my bringer of death in person, I noticed that he had been at least 75 yards away, and that he actually would have had to see me through two large pieces of heavy vegetation. I was willing to attribute my death to the randomness of war, and I reloaded the mission to get back up the hill again. I went to a slightly different spot, one that hid me even better than the first time. Sure enough, I got shot again, and again while lying down on the ground. I took a ride on Godās viewfinder, and still I could not find a way for a VC to have shot me. In fact, I donāt even know how he could have figured out that anyone had actually made their way up behind the brush in the first place, let alone guess where I would be. I donāt think Rambo faced these VC.
One of these things that I learned in war is that youāre too busy trying to stay alive to really be able to use whatever language skills you have in times of combat. When I heard the VC speaking, the words were heavily accented (to me) and generally incomprehensible. I couldnāt tell if they were speaking in a northern, southern, Hue, or mountainous accent. There were no spectacular, heroic displays of āturning the tablesā on the VC. Even when I met friendly villagers, I had to ask the same questions 20 times so I could slowly figure out what words they were saying.
By the end of the second mission, I was tired of war. War was just too tough. How regular soldiers survived years with one life when I had been through a hundred after a handful of hours, I did not know. I tried to stick it out though. I went through a few more missions, and one night, our base camp was invaded by the VC. They had made underground tunnels into the camp, so we had to fight them off, and destroy their tunnel entrance. I went down into the tunnels, which were surprisingly large enough for me to crawl into. Iām not sure if the guys who worked on the Cu Chi tunnels had talked to the guys who worked on this one, but there is no way I would have been able to get into a Cu Chi tunnel. Anyway, I set some explosives at the other side of the tunnel, and our VC pest problem was temporarily taken care of.
I was one-fifth done with my tour when I decided that it was time to go MIA. Not believing I could ever finish this tour of duty/āgameā within a reasonable time frame (I never signed up for this craziness!), I decided to go through war on normal difficulty. I had to start all over, but at least I knew what to expect this time around. I would have to re-play the missions, but I wouldnāt be dying every time I moved an inch. For the most part, everything was the same. My squad mates acted the same, I still had to fight the bad guys, and yet, something did change. The VC just didnāt seem to try anymore. Maybe after finding out that I couldnāt handle them, they toned down their ferociousness. Perhaps they were secretly laughing at my cowardice. Either that, or somehow we kept lucking into running into poorly-trained squads, which to be truthful, was supposed to be a rare sight among the VC. I once ran into a soldier who had been hiding and waiting for me. Taken by surprise, I saw my life flash before my eyes. When I reached the light at the end of the tunnel, however, I was somehow still standing, only 2 feet away from my would-be killer. Shocked, but still aware of what had just happened, I shot him repeatedly until he went down. He had been waiting for me, and yet he had emptied an entire clip of his weapon from two feet away without hitting me once. Sometimes, I could even frolic and skip around the VC in open ground, and they wouldnāt hit me.
Not too happy with their attitude, I threw in the towel again, around the same point I had quit at the Vietnam difficulty. Whatās the use of fighting a war if the other side doesnāt even care?
Sometimes, though, it seemed like Nhut wouldnāt even care himself. Iād tell him to lead us, but he would just hold back and not tell me why. He would often be so quiet- why wouldnāt he tell me what the problem was? Other times, he would walk around, but not in the direction Iād want him to walk. I would just have to go ahead myself without the help of my team (they seemed to care more about what Nhut did than what I did), and constantly command everyone to follow me and hope that they eventually follow so that I wouldnāt have the face the VC myself.
I sat at my desk, sweat gliding down my forehead. The 95 degree heat was slowly killing me, and to make matters worse, ants wouldnāt stop crawling up my leg. How did the saying go? You can take the boy out of the jungle, but you canāt take the jungle out of the boy? Something like that I guess. I had left the jungles of Vietnam for my desk in San Jose, but I guess nature was still treating me like I had never left. War, the real deal, may not be good for much, but playing Vietcong was good for something. I already knew about the realities of war, but fighting in Vietnam, I could feel myself tapping into some of the experiences the soldiers had: the hate for the VC, the fear of death at any moment, the annoyance at ants constantly running up oneās leg. The soldiers in the game werenāt real people, but I did feel some kind of affinity for them, especially Nhut. Maybe I thought I saw my uncle in him, or maybe I just saw someone who had suffered for his country. The people I met may not have been real, but the people they were based on were. Vietcong did not quite give me the answers I was searching for, but Iāll continue looking for my Private Ryan.
(Published in Viet Weekly, Fall 2004)
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