By Dave Lindorff
When I was a 17-year-old kid in my senior year of high school, I
didn’t think much about Vietnam. It was 1967, the war was raging, but I
didn’t personally know anyone who was over there, Tet hadn’t happened
yet. If anything, the excitement of jungle warfare attracted my
interest more than anything (I had a .22 cal rifle, and liked to go off
in the woods and shoot at things, often, I’ll admit, imagining it was
an armed enemy.)
But then I had to do a major project in my humanities program and I
chose the Vietnam War. As I started researching this paper, which was
supposed to be a multi-media presentation, I ran across a series of
photos of civilian victims of American napalm bombing. These victims,
often, were women and children—even babies.