[Congressional Record Volume 155, Number 55 (Wednesday, April 1, 2009)]
[Extensions of Remarks]
[Page E845]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




               ``CHILDREN IN THE FIELD,'' BY DAVID ROGERS

                                 ______
                                 

                          HON. JOHN P. MURTHA

                            of pennsylvania

                    in the house of representatives

                        Wednesday, April 1, 2009

  Mr. MURTHA. Madam Speaker, I rise today to include in the 
Congressional Record the following article written by Capitol Hill 
correspondent David Rogers. Although a conscientious objector, he is a 
decorated veteran who was wounded while serving as an Army medic in 
Vietnam.
  In his article, Rogers vividly describes the devastating impact of 
war on children and how American service members create bonds of mutual 
friendship and curiosity with the children who become victims of 
conflict and war.

                       ``Children in the Field''

                           (By David Rogers)

       ``The old French fort was nothing more than an open area 
     encircled by a berm, dirt piled into a wall. There was gaping 
     holes where the fortification had eroded, and when the ground 
     attack came, the enemy rocket grenades and automatic fire 
     were able to hit the sleeping positions. Some AK rounds came 
     from an outlying hamlet and Jose opened up with the machine 
     gun. In the morning there was crying from one home, for a 
     child had been killed.
       ``The women and old men would only stare sorrowfully at the 
     patrols, but the children, looking for food or being curious, 
     would come up to the soldiers. It was an uneasy truce between 
     them: the infantry sweating under their packs and still wary 
     after coming from the jungle; and the children, pulling on 
     the men's gear, begging for food, but resisting even a gentle 
     hand wanting to touch them. For the platoon medic, breaking 
     through this distance was easier, and the children would 
     finally come to him. He was the only one without a weapon and 
     just the name ``Doc'' was simpler to remember. They--the 
     medic and children--never knew each other's real names. It 
     didn't matter. After all the months in the field and in and 
     out of the villages, many would know him on sight and call 
     ``Doc.'' One would start and then the others would join in. 
     He would want to go back and stay with them.
       ``The platoon was securing the road when the enemy hit the 
     third squad's position. AK fire caught Wesley in the stomach, 
     and a rocket grenade wounded two other men. The medic had to 
     go back for them and, afterwards, blood was all over his 
     fatigues and hands. The children were again on the road, 
     looking where the firing had been. They also looked at him, 
     standing there in the stink of the heat and burned powder and 
     blood. He wanted them to go away, but they had seen it all 
     before. It was he who was new. Later, the Vietnamese soldiers 
     would bring their kills out to the road. The children on the 
     way to market would have to pass the bodies.
       ``She was twelve years old but had a wiser, more reserved 
     way about her than the other children living in the villages 
     or selling sodas along the red clay road. When candy was 
     thrown from the convoys, she never ran, but only watched out 
     for her younger sister and brother. The medic always looked 
     for her but never brought the Cokes she teased him with. When 
     the infantry closed the road and no more sodas could be sold, 
     he saw her fishing occasionally or carrying firewood from 
     where the American bulldozers had cleared the jungle. They 
     seemed better friends then. He brought her presents at Tet, 
     and she gave him paper flowers when he came the next time. 
     After the battalion moved out, they never saw one another 
     again. Before returning to the United States, he went back to 
     the village, but she was away for the day. Instead, he sat 
     with her brother and sister, who invited him into their 
     thatched home. The village had a solemn quiet and they talked 
     in near whispers. He stayed an hour with them.
       ``The children were so light compared to the weight of the 
     Americans that the medics had to be careful not to turn too 
     quickly when they carried the stretchers from the 
     helicopters. The thin bodies, smaller still on the green hard 
     canvas, rocked back and forth with each jolt and appeared in 
     danger of sliding off. One night, two girls brought in with 
     shrapnel wounds. The youngest lay without a sound, her 
     stomach hard but only slightly torn. He stayed with her until 
     she went into the operating room, but she did not cry during 
     the long wait. Just the staring eyes, stunned by the pain and 
     unable to close in the glare of the overhead light. She had 
     been asleep when the shells came. In the morning she was 
     dead.
       ``The children, so young and constant, would have the 
     effect of confronting the soldiers with themselves. Coming 
     back from an operation and seeing them running out to the 
     road, the platoon was faced with something more alive than 
     itself, against which each man would account himself. The 
     dead in the jungle, those the platoon had lost or those it 
     had killed, would come back for that moment. It was an 
     anxious time, waiting for the smile or shout to pull them 
     through the memories.
       ``After a contact the soldiers would search the bodies 
     looking for souvenirs or materials which might be turned over 
     to some distant information officer. Equipment such as 
     hammocks or shell pouches were distributed according to who 
     had been most involved in the fighting. Once there was a 
     picture of the dead man's child and the medic took that 
     himself. It was a little girl holding a flower and on the 
     back was a delicate sketch of a dove.''

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