Laureat ogólnopolskiej olimpiady

Pamiętnik z wojny wietnamskiej - Krzysztof Matuszek

DAY 1
ROCKY POINT, CA, US
12th FEB 1969

Today seemed to be a day like yesterday until I opened my mailbox, grabbed the fresh envelopes and walked upstairs, checking where they were from on the way. Between one tax and another I saw a letter with an emblem of Bald Eagle. "God damn it! - I claimed - it never rains but pours! A month before I had been thrown out of university and now I got a letter from Pentagon!".

There was no need to deceive: it proclaimed that John Berkford, age 23, had been drafted into the United States Armed Forces. In other words, taking part in Vietnam War was just a matter of time. I had had to calm down as soon as possible in order not to go insane, so in no time I was back from store with a bottle of whiskey in my hand, hoping that a few rounds will do the trick.

About three to four ones later I heard a knock at the door. It was not so easy as it seemed to stand up, but eventually I unlocked the door and let the visitor in. At once I thought that’s all because of being stoned and I did not believe my eyes - this was the first time I saw Keith White crying. All became clear when he raised his hand with a folded letter very similar to mine...

DAY 32
ROCKY POINT, CA, US
14th MAR 1969

Yesterday, after achieving good notes in military training course, me and my friend had been given the last chance to say goodbye to our families. Then we were thrown into the aircraft, packed like sardines. With really mixed feelings we took off for Vietnam.

When I woke up from a short nap I noticed the plane engines’ sound is missing. I looked out of the window and the first rays of dawn got into my eyes. We have landed in the centre of nowhere: all I could see was red mud and billions of tropical trees. Pure jungle.

About an hour later we were introduced to our commander, Charles McCormack, Australian, veteran of World War II. He made a very nice impression on me because of his specific sense of humor. "Call me Charlie or Cormie, I don’t care. Let’s think of nicknames for you all, it can be really useful in fight" - he said. Since today evening my friend’s name is no longer Keith - we call him Grey now, as he’s black and his surname is White. Charlie’s idea of course.

DAY 51
U.S. ARMY CAMP, SOUTHERN VIETNAM
2nd APR 1969
(DAYS 51 and 52 are typed.)

"Wake up, wake up, bro! Cormie says we’re about to fight, just hafta load our guns!" - tone of bravery in Keith’s voice hit me immediately. After putting something on in a great hurry we ran out of the tent, praying commander’s not gonna slate us for being late. Luckily, he did not even manage to notice we were absent, giving us last tips before entering the battlefield. "Now it’s time to pray to your Gods, no matter which of them you believe in!" - he joked in the end.

With an M-16 rifle in my hand I really did look dangerous, nevertheless I knew I wasn’t. Lying at the bottom of a ditch, covered with thick, red mud my only dream was to escape from this hell. A few times a minute something exploded all around me. Every single blast made shivers run down my spine.

Out of the blue, a group of enemy soldiers appeared at the horizon. Guided by instinct, I grabbed my rifle and pulled the trigger. Three of the strangers fell into the mud with an ear-splitting scream. The rest was shot from the back by Keith. That was a humiliating defeat, anyway I have been too horrified to say a word. ‘I have killed a man, I am a killer, a killer, a killer!’ - only this self-critical thought has been on my mind.

Last thing I remember is Cormie claiming "GREEEEEENADEEEE...!".

DAY 52
U.S. ARMY HOSPITAL, SAIGON SUBURBS
3rd APR 1969

"Wake up, wake up, bro!" - I opened my eyes with a feeling of déjà vu. I had heard this voice, these words. For sure. But when? Argh. Blood began to pulse in my temples. Through half-closed eyelids I saw a smile of relief on Keith’s face - "He’s back with us, told ya he would!". "Yes, I am. But what the hell happened? Why am I lying here?".

After I looked around I realized I had found myself at intensive care ward. Dozens of bandages covered me although they did not stop the stabbing pain underneath. One by one, the missing memories started to come back to my mind. Red mud. Enemies. First kill. Grenade.

"Dude, you don’t even know how heavy you are!" - Keith was going on - "When Cormie yelled "PULL BACK!", we just grabbed you by hands and legs and ran".

DAY 88
U.S. ARMY CAMP, SOUTHERN VIETNAM
10th MAY 1969

The day of my comeback to fight had finally come. I had not been born a soldier and I have never been as certain of it as today. I realized that my life is not worth a nickel. When I’m dead, just another no-name boy will be given my gun and my pants.

As always, Cormie tried to keep up appearances, but this time the shine in his eyes was missing. I knew something have been going wrong, really wrong, as it was not easy to spoil his mood. According to what he had said, the target was heavily fortified Hill 937. We were to capture it as soon as possible by frontal assault. For me, it sounded like lots of casualties.

Hill 937 was pure hell. There’s no need to say anything more. When we got there, we were given gas masks and were told that poisoning substance called Agent Orange is floating in the air all around the area, sprayed by U.S. Air Force aircrafts.

Fresh blood was soaking up to the mud, mixed with rain water and gasoline. Sounds of machine guns merged together into one horrifying rumble. Wherever you turned your head you saw someone dying - being shot, burst into pieces, poisoned or stabbed.

I have no idea how I managed to stay alive.

DAY 93
HILL 937 SURROUNDINGS
15th MAY 1969

I should have written yesterday what I am writing now, I know, although it had had to come to me first and I had to cope with it, at least partly, to be able to throw away my fear and take a pen.

Something had been in the air from the very beginning, and I kept wondering what was that. So did Charlie, as he was not that anxious and uncertain back in the day. Now, looking at it from the safe perspective of time, I think he was not sure if we had been in real danger or not. Maybe Cormie had forgotten this is a real war and we are real people?

Our father who art in heaven;
Hallowed be thy name;
Thy kingdom come;
Thy will be done;
On earth?

With a prayer on my lips I have been lying in the bush for another time. My task was to cover half of our commando while getting a better position. After three days of watching a true massacre I got used to the view and the only thing I have been focusing on that time was Keith.

And suddenly, he vanished into thin air. I simply couldn't believe he got out of my sight.

Once again Cormie shouted 'PULL BACK!'; this time, anyway, I did heard it.
"GO TAKE THE INJURED!" - he added, but I have been on my way already.

"John, take care of Kari..." - "Oh, shut up bro! You're tellin' bollocks; you'll look after her yourself!" - I put on a brave face trying to cheer him up a bit - "Hold on until I will have carried you to safe home!". Deep down I knew his condition was serious as the explosion had torn his calf off.

"BEEEERKFOOORD! HURRY THE FUCK UP!" - the commander brought me down to earth. I fired ahead at once.

DAY 101
U.S. ARMY HOSPITAL, SAIGON SUBURBS
23th MAY 1969

Keith died. Even tough he was a hard man, gangrene got into his calf and both medics and his willpower were useless.

The battle ended on May 20th. We've lost 72 men; 372 got injured. Despite the fact that it was funny or not, Cormie called it 'Battle of Hamburger Hill', as the enemy machine guns processed bodies into hamburger-like, melted meat.

Gotta do something to forget, no matter the price.

DAY 105
U.S. ARMY CAMP, SOUTHERN VIETNAM
27th MAY 1969

I found the way, totally found it.

God, thank you for heroin!

LONG, LONG TIME LATER
23rd Sep 1986

Today I noticed my old diary while tidying up the attic. It's been 17 years since I got back to USA. Nonetheless, I remember the events as if they were yesterday.

Drugs helped me to deal with fear and despair and get rid of human feelings. I started not to recall the man I had been before. From a shy and calm guy to a furious killer - what a change.

I knew I had trouble, but it's not that simple to get off heroin.

What probably had saved my life were colleagues who booked my appointment. The doctor did not beat around the bush. "Yo takin' stuff, don't ya?".

1969 was the end of the war for United States. So did for me. I have been sent back to the country for rehab.

By the time the treatment had ended, I got a letter from my parents. Nothing special - they had heard about drugs and seemed not to want to see me anymore.

War has changed me. I never finished studies and started a workshop instead. Hard work under cars' chassis really helped to overcome the war trauma.

Today I'm a proud owner of custom-made car production hall, well known all along the west coast. I named it "Keith's dream". You may say: "War had a great influence on him, but he finally succeeded in life! Every cloud has a silver lining!". No, no, no. I'd rather say: shit happens.