It was a calm and quiet January morning in 1966, a bizarre rain of fire showered down the village of Tinh Duan in northern Vietnam. The buzz of two fighter jets echoed through the plains as they soar along the clear skies. Smoke rolled across the air as people tried to open their eyes to the burning ceilings.
“Viet Cong! Viet Cong!” a lady ran out of her home and began screaming down the unpaved clay road. “My house is on fire!” she wailed.
“Somebody save us!” another cried out as she stumbled out of her house. Her skin has peeled off from her arms it was a tainted pink almost resembling freshly peeled tomatoes.
In less than five minutes, the silent village of hardly two hundred people roared into a crazy scenario of horror and chaos. The Viet Cong had suspected that the village was a makeshift base used by the Americans to conduct secret missions. Indeed, a number of soldiers and army jeeps would circle the area during routine surveillances but this time, the attacking of village was entirely inhabited by civilians.
The men of the village ran and shouted. They carried whatever and whoever they could manage.
The hardwood and straw houses hardly gave a challenge to the unstoppable napalm. Minutes were all it took to decimate an entire structure.
Le Vu Duan, a reserve soldier for the South Vietnamese was running from house to house, checking for survivors. He stopped by each door and screamed, “Ben trong nguoi. Keu la!” If you’re still trapped inside. Shout!
A woman shouts out loud as she ran out of her house and towards Le: “Save my son! He’s still inside!”
Cries for help could be heard out of the burning house she was pointing. Less than a hundred meters down the lane. Le pointed east and told the lady to run towards there, the nearest base for the South.
He could see the figure of a boy crouched under a table through the window of the burning house. Pace-by-pace he got meters closer to the home, now almost entirely engulfed. Right when he was just less than twenty meters away, he heard the sound of the cracking under the heat. A chill went down his spine.
“Cha! Cha!” he screamed to the boy, calling him to get out.
As the loudest crack echoed out of the house, its burning roof and walls folded inwards like a house of cards, in a just a blink of an eye the building was flat on the ground. The crying eerily ceased.
Le felt his knees give way as the devastation enveloped his body.
Turning around, the woman halted her steps. “Con trai!” My son! She screamed as she looked back to the speechless and weeping Le.
“Thien Chua!” she fell on all fours as she wailed for God. Her arms around her chest as she sat helplessly in the middle of the path, dozens of people ran frantically towards the Allied base. There was no time to help the dead or dying.
It has only been ten minutes since the two planes had released their deadly rain of napalm. Most of the houses had crumbled to a pile of burning cinders. The ones that are still standing would collapse soon.
Le got up on his legs once more and walked towards the end of the path. The screaming softened as people disappear through the wheat field, heading towards east. As most of the people were out of earshot, the village dissonantly came to a silence, the only sounds remained were the crackling of the fires and collapsing buildings.