Sunday, February 06, 2005
Do you know Mr. Allen Nelson? He is a veteran of the Vietnam War, and now giving lectures on cruelty, brutality and meaninglessness of war in Japan and US. I went to his lecture today held in Osaka, Japan, entitled "You don't know war."
The war he experienced in Vietnam was beyond language; he says he can't find words to express the feeling of killing people and the smell of a dead body. When he was in Vietnam as a marine, and especially when he killed a Vietnamese for the first time, he didn't think a Vietnamese a human being, for him a Vietnamese was just a gook at that time. However, he could not stop throwing up and felt something so bad. His senior told him that he would get used to it after killing many more people, but it was not true. He kept feeling the same, and never get used to it. He also says everytime he killed a human being he lost something from deep down his soul.
During the lecture, I thought I was lucky that I had never killed anybody, or smelled a dead body. He says once you smell a dead decomposed body, you will never forget the smell. And he says that when he looks into faces of Japanese people, he can see innocence, as Japanese people don't know war.
After the lecture, I talked to Mr. Nelson and thanked him for the lecture, and gave a copy of "Flowers and Bombs." He looked so delighted to know that I am also working for making peace and he was smiling gently when flipping through the pages of my book. We shook hands, and there were many people waiting in line behind me to talk with Mr. Nelson, so I said good-bye to him.
On the way home, his smile and warmth of his hand kept coming up in my mind. I don't know why I feel like that way, but I have realized how hard and how painful it is for him to talk about his experience in Vietnam and remember that he has killed many innocent people there. His smile and hand made me realize how kindhearted he is, and I now feel so sorry for him, and angry that American government and society once made such a man into a killing machine. Or I should say they made such a boy into a killing machine, since he was just 18 years old at that time. Oh, eighteen. Not old enough to drink beer, but old enough to kill? It is a real tragedy.
Everytime he talks about war, he should be suffering from horrible memories, which are too cruel or painful for him to talk about. He is still suffering from war, and at the same time fighting against war.
I thank him so much for his courageous of sharing his pain with us, who fortunately don't know war. His pain will be paying off when we work together to end acts of war done by any nation or any organization.
I end with one of my tanka poems, which was originally to express a child in a battlefield, but now I feel it is also about a young soldier taken away from his home to a killing field.
In a town full of
Debris left after an air raid
A cat is crouching
Alone with his whiskers cut
Looking up to the full moon
The war he experienced in Vietnam was beyond language; he says he can't find words to express the feeling of killing people and the smell of a dead body. When he was in Vietnam as a marine, and especially when he killed a Vietnamese for the first time, he didn't think a Vietnamese a human being, for him a Vietnamese was just a gook at that time. However, he could not stop throwing up and felt something so bad. His senior told him that he would get used to it after killing many more people, but it was not true. He kept feeling the same, and never get used to it. He also says everytime he killed a human being he lost something from deep down his soul.
During the lecture, I thought I was lucky that I had never killed anybody, or smelled a dead body. He says once you smell a dead decomposed body, you will never forget the smell. And he says that when he looks into faces of Japanese people, he can see innocence, as Japanese people don't know war.
After the lecture, I talked to Mr. Nelson and thanked him for the lecture, and gave a copy of "Flowers and Bombs." He looked so delighted to know that I am also working for making peace and he was smiling gently when flipping through the pages of my book. We shook hands, and there were many people waiting in line behind me to talk with Mr. Nelson, so I said good-bye to him.
On the way home, his smile and warmth of his hand kept coming up in my mind. I don't know why I feel like that way, but I have realized how hard and how painful it is for him to talk about his experience in Vietnam and remember that he has killed many innocent people there. His smile and hand made me realize how kindhearted he is, and I now feel so sorry for him, and angry that American government and society once made such a man into a killing machine. Or I should say they made such a boy into a killing machine, since he was just 18 years old at that time. Oh, eighteen. Not old enough to drink beer, but old enough to kill? It is a real tragedy.
Everytime he talks about war, he should be suffering from horrible memories, which are too cruel or painful for him to talk about. He is still suffering from war, and at the same time fighting against war.
I thank him so much for his courageous of sharing his pain with us, who fortunately don't know war. His pain will be paying off when we work together to end acts of war done by any nation or any organization.
I end with one of my tanka poems, which was originally to express a child in a battlefield, but now I feel it is also about a young soldier taken away from his home to a killing field.
In a town full of
Debris left after an air raid
A cat is crouching
Alone with his whiskers cut
Looking up to the full moon
