The Cruelty of War

The Cruelty Of War

(C) James J Alonzo 

(This is a sad and cruel story that happened in Viet Nam. If you can't handled printed cruelty don't read this. If you can't handle young men in the range of 19 years old, dying and others seeking revenge on anything they can, don't read this.)


While on a long range patrol through the Iron Triangle, we had crossed a tributary of the Mekong river and marched west into the mountains. On the third day, we got to relaxed, and careless, one of my men Dennis Turton, stepped on a 'bouncing betty' mine. 

(This was a name given to a particular type of mine. The mine is a small cylindrical device that was buried in the ground, with a set of wires sticking up. When the wires were tripped, the mine exploded and shot up a charge about 4 feet into the air that exploded. The charge was not very large and contained small steel balls or metal that would inflict injuries to soldiers. Since it jumped up into the air, this allowed the secondary explosion to cause more damage.)  

"Boom!!"

One minute he was laughing, and then he was dead, completely cut in half! We bag Dennis Turton, the jungle was thick, so it it took nearly an hour to get to an LZ and called in a dust off.     

After Dennis Turton's body was choppered out, we resumed our patrol. My men were pissed and stated so in so many ways, with threats, and profanity. Their anger was soon becoming dangerous and I had to kick a couple of the men to shut up.

"What the fuck is wrong with you assholes! Shut the fuck up, or you will wind up dead like Dennis!" 

Robert Feeney shouted back,

"Hey fuck you, Dennis was my buddy, and we have a right to be pissed!"

"Be pissed, just shut the fuck up!" I replied. "We got careless!"

Later, higher in the mountains, we came across a water buffalo calf. What it was doing there I don't know, no mother water Buffalo, but we chased it down and, got a rope around it and led it along to a deserted village where we set up for the night. Meanwhile I went with J J to patrol the rest of the village.

After supper Robert Feeney went over and stroked its nose. He opened up a can of C rations, pork and beans, but the buffalo calf wasn't interested.

"Eat it! " Feeney demanded.

But the young water Buffalo ignored Feeney's attempt to feed it. Feeney shrugged, stepped back and shot the calf through the right front knee! The animal did not make a sound. It went down hard, then got up again, and Feeney took careful aim and shot off an ear. 

The other men were laughing and encouraged Feeney. Meanwhile, J J and I heard the sporadic shots, so we started heading over to where the men were camped out.

"Fuck, now what?" I asked J J.

"These fucking idiots are pissed over Turton getting wasted." replied J J. 

Meanwhile Robert Feeney shot the calf in the hindquarters and in then in the little hump at its back. He shot it twice in the flanks. This sadistic bastard's intention wasn't to kill, it was to hurt. He put the rifle muzzle up against the mouth and shot the mouth away. 

Nobody said much. The whole platoon stood there watching, feeling all kinds of things, but there wasn't a great deal of pity for the baby water buffalo. Dennis Turton was dead. Feeney had lost his best friend in the world. 

Later in the week Feeney would write a long personal letter to the Turton's sister, who would not write back, but for now, it was simply a question of pain. Feeney's pain, the calf's pain, and Feeney's sick sense of revenge.

He shot off the tail. He shot away -chunks of meat below the ribs. All around us there was the smell of smoke and filth and greenery, and the evening was humid and very hot. Feeney went to automatic. He shot randomly, almost casually, quick little spurts in the belly. Then he reloaded, squatted down, and shot it in the left front knee. Again the animal fell hard and tried to get up, but this time it couldn't quite make it. It wobbled and went down sideways. Feeney  shot it in the nose. He bent forward and whispered something, as if talking to a pet, then he shot it in the throat. All the while the water buffalo calf was silent, or almost silent, just a little bubbling sound where the nose had been. It lay very still. Nothing moved except the eyes, which were enormous, the pupils shiny black and dumb.

When i arrived i walked up with my 45 pistol and shot the animal in it forehead to put the calf out of it's misery. 

"You sorry son of bitch!" I spat out as I pistol whip Feeney, who was crying. Getting up on his feet, he tried to say something, but then instead picked up his weapon, cradled his rifle and went off by himself.

The rest of men stood in a circle around the buffalo calf. For a long time no one spoke. They had witnessed some- thing surreal,  something brand-new and profound, a piece of the world so startling there was not yet a word for it.

Somebody kicked the baby buffalo. It was still dead though.

"Amazing," J J said. "My whole life, I never seen anything like it." as we walked away from these sorry assholes. 

Some of the men dragged the buffalo calf across the open square, hoisted it up, and dumped it in the village well.

Afterward, they sat waiting for Feeney to get himself together.

"Amazing," J J kept saying. "This is a fucked up war, I never seen anything like this before."

"Well, that's Nam,' I said. "Garden of Evil. Over here, man, every sin's real fresh and original."

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