Dead certainties in wartime
By Mahir Ali
ON July 25, 1950, American soldiers in No Gun Ri, about 100 miles south of Seoul, were driven from nearby villages and herded towards a railroad embankment in front of the US lines. The following day, they were attacked without warning by US aircraft. As survivors sought shelter under a railroad bridge, they were shot by troops of the 7th Cavalry.
Some US soldiers claimed fewer that 100 Korean refugees died in the No Gun Ri shootings, which lasted three days; others spoke of “hundreds” of deaths. Korean survivors of the massacre say the toll was about 400, most of them women and children.
The sordid tale of No Gun Ri emerged in a Pulitzer prize-winning Associated Press (AP) report in 1999. That’s right: 49 years after the event. The Pentagon offered to investigate, and after a 16-month inquiry concluded that although “an unfortunate tragedy’ had indeed unfolded on the day in question, it hadn’t been “a deliberate killing”. According to AP, the Pentagon report “suggested panicky soldiers, acting without orders, opened fire because they feared that an approaching line of families, baggage and farm animals concealed enemy troops.”
However, in Collateral Damage, a book published earlier this year, American historian Sahr Conway-Lanz reveals that in a letter dated the very day the atrocities began, the US ambassador in Seoul, John J. Muccio, wrote to assistant secretary of state Dean Rusk about a decision taken at a high-level meeting the previous evening: “If refugees do appear from north of US lines, they will receive warning shots, and if they then persist in advancing, they will be shot.”
This suggests that the soldiers at No Gun Ri weren’t trigger-happy out of panic. They were simply following orders. And Washington was well aware of what was going on.
No Gun Ri wasn’t by any means an isolated incident in the Korean war, any more than the massacre 18 years later in the South Vietnamese village known as My Lai 4 was an aberration.
The latter has gone down in history as the single most abhorrent episode of the Vietnam war. The details seem almost as shocking today as when Seymour Hersh first revealed them in 1970: up to 500 infants, children, women of all ages and old men, all of them non-combatants and clearly unarmed, shot dead at close range by Charlie Company under the command of Captain Medina and Lieutenant Calley.
The first official press release on My Lai issued by the US army spoke only of 128 “enemy soldiers” being annihilated after they were trapped in a pincer movement by two American companies. There was not a shred of truth in it, but that didn’t prevent General William Westmoreland, the commander of US forces in Vietnam, from cabling his congratulations to Charlie Company.
If My Lai has become a byword for particularly egregious wartime atrocities against civilians, that’s not only because of the nature of war crimes that took place there, but also because details of comparable incidents are harder to come by. Which does not mean other villages did not suffer the same fate.
Of late, My Lai has received more than the occasional mention in accounts of, and comments on, last November’s massacre in Haditha (Iraq). And there can be little question that, although the scale is smaller and the circumstances somewhat different, this particular instance of indiscriminate lethal violence against Iraqi civilians does fit the pattern.
According to US and British media reports, citing eyewitnesses, what happened was fairly straightforward. A roadside bomb went off as a US marine convoy was passing. A 20-year-old soldier behind the wheel of a Humvee died in the blast. His comrades decided to exact revenge. They did so by raiding houses in the vicinity one by one and murdering their occupants. No one was deliberately spared: not infants, nor the elderly. At least 24 Iraqis were killed that night. Most of them were shot at close range. The dead included four students and a taxi driver who happened to have arrived in Haditha at a less than propitious moment.
The following day, a US military statement said a roadside bomb had killed one American soldier and 15 Iraqi civilians. “Immediately following the bombing,” it went on, “gunmen attacked the convoy with small arms fire. Iraqi army soldiers and marines returned fire, killing eight insurgents and wounding another.”
This patently false account would have remained on the record but for the efforts of a local journalist, who took his video camera to the scene of the crime and recorded the aftermath. The tape eventually found its way into the hands of Time magazine — which, before publishing a report on March 19, shared the evidence with US military commanders in Baghdad. The occupation army promptly amended its official version of events, claiming that the 15 civilians had been accidentally shot by marines during the firefight with insurgents. In other words, the cover-up continued.
It has now become all but impossible to sustain, even though official results from a pair of parallel Pentagon investigations were still awaited at the time of writing and may not be made available until later in the summer. Whatever conclusions the army may reach, one fiction will undoubtedly be maintained: that what happened at Haditha was an isolated instance of US troops cracking under the pressure.
“We know that 99.9 per cent of our forces conduct themselves in an exemplary manner,” is how Donald Rumsfeld puts it, adding: “We also know that in conflict things that shouldn’t happen do happen.” For all we know, he may have been referring to the botched cover-up rather than the gratuitous killings. The chairman of the joint chiefs of staff, General Peter Pace, was singing from the same hymn sheet: “Clearly the individuals involved — if they are responsible for the things they are being accused of — have not performed their duty the way that 99.9 per cent of their fellow marines have.”
Yeah, right.
George W. Bush has spoken in similar terms, albeit without citing that figure; his speechwriters may have deemed 99.9 per cent to be a bit of a tongue-twister for the misleader of the free world.
One does not have to look to opponents of the invasion and occupation of Iraq for a contrary assessment. For instance, Iraq’s prime minister Nuri Al Maliki, who could hardly be described as an independent political entity, has complained about the “daily phenomenon” of violence against civilians by troops who “do not respect the Iraqi people .... They crush them with their vehicles and kill them just on suspicion. This is completely unacceptable.” His deputy, Salam Al Zubaie, was even more blunt. “As you know,” he said, speaking of Haditha, “this is not the only massacre, and there are a lot.”
According to former US infantryman Camilo Mejia, who was jailed for refusing to return to Iraq after his first tour of duty, “I don’t doubt for one moment that these things happened. They are widespread. This is the norm. These are not the exceptions.”
Mejia also reminds us that a process of dehumanisation facilitates callous disregard for the lives of others. The Vietnamese were “gooks” or “Charlie”; Iraqis are “Haji” or “Ali Baba”. It’s easier to take lives if the victims can be seen as less than human. If they can somehow collectively be held responsible for 9/11, that’s an added incentive for not taking too many prisoners.
More recent recorded instances of random brutality include a disabled middle-aged Iraqi being dragged out of his house and shot dead. An AK-47 and a shovel were subsequently planted next to his body in order to give the impression that he was setting up a roadside bomb: this is apparently standard procedure. A pregnant woman being rushed to hospital was shot dead alongside her cousin because their car failed to stop at a roadblock. In a village called Ishaqi, north of Baghdad, 11 civilians — including five children and four women — were shot dead during a raid, and it was claimed that they had died when their house collapsed during a firefight. Video evidence obtained by the BBC strongly suggested otherwise, but the US army concluded its soldiers had behaved correctly. The puppet government in Baghdad begs to differ and has vowed to carry out its own investigation.
Sure, war is hell and atrocities are inevitable. That is why so many people around the world oppose wars. That is why millions of them took to the streets in a futile effort to prevent the assault on Iraq. That benighted country’s woes are not the consequence of a war of liberation gone wrong. This is what happens when the largest war machine in the world is unleashed without reasonable cause. It has happened too often in the past. It is up to the people of the United States of America to make sure it doesn’t happen again.
What do No Gun Ri, My Lai, Fallujah and Haditha — and so many other such sites whose names have not been recorded because the cover-ups were more successful — have in common? Well, there’s the nationality of the perpetrators, for one. Americans don’t enjoy a monopoly on war crimes by any means, but no other country’s representatives have committed them with such impunity in so many different parts of the world during the past century. This is terrorism on a scale that the likes of Osama bin Laden can’t even begin to imagine. It has got to stop. The mass murderers’ licence to kill must be withdrawn. It will take strong and sustained popular demand in the US and among its auxiliaries to achieve that end.
Email: mahirali1@gmail.com


