Horror, in black and white

ONE of the most famous photographs of our time, one of the half dozen or so images that marked the 20th Century, was that of little girl, naked, agony contorting her features, running down a highway straight out of hell. That photograph from the Vietnam War symbolised the horror of war better than any other means of recording it. The Girl in the Picture by Denise Chong (Simon & Schuster) tells the story of the wounded child of war

Kim Phuc was one of the six children. Her parents were moderately well-off and lived in Trang Bang, a hamlet along Route 1, where the war was a disquieting murmur in the background, but not quite the horrifying disaster it was elsewhere in the country. By 1971, President Nixon was rethinking the American presence in Vietnam. The Tet Offensive was in the past, President Johnson had decided not to stand for re-election, My Lai had horrified the world and had further turned American public against a war as had the Kent State demonstrations. By mid-1971, American casualties had dropped to a fraction of what they had been in the 1960s. This did not mean, however, that the fighting had decreased. The North Vietnamese continued to wage war on the South, and not even the death of their leader Ho Chi Minh in 1969 diluted their aggression. But in Trang Bang the strategies of various short- sighted leaders did not make much of a difference. Life went on as usual, except only from time to time, precautions would be taken against the latest threat - whoever it came from or whatever it was. Writes the author, "The average peasant cared nothing for politics and wanted only to be left alone. At most, he leaned to whichever side harassed him less. However, both the Saigon government and the Viet Cong sought to force him to declare his sympathies at the very least, by day and by night. He was, as the saying went, caught between the two, between the sticky rice and the bean - a favourite daily fare made by steaming inside a banana leaf, glutinous white rice with black beans, which, once cooked, are inseparable. And so it was for the peasant, living entrapped and beholden to both sides. Most recently it was Viet Cong guerrillas who had to be placated and supported - not doing so would have meant instant and deadly retribution.

The world's media was not overly interested in "Vietnamese killing Vietnamese". Indeed by 1972, the time of the great North Vietnam assault on the south (dubbed the Eastern offensive) the only daily journalistic presence on the ground was "provided by the two main competing wire services, the Associated Press (AP) and United Press International (UPI). Huynh Cong Ut (who was also called Nick Ut) was one of AP's staff photographers. On the evening of June, he conferred with his chief, the legendary Horst Faas, about some fighting he had learned about near Trang Bang. Jaas decided to let Ut go to the hamlet to see if he could get some good pictures.

The next day Ut was one of about a dozen newsmen who took pictures of the day's action mainly of South Vietnamese AI-E Skyraiders coming in on bombing runs. After a while of this, it began to rain. The war-hardened veterans of the media who had seen nothing in the day's action that was in any way out of the ordinary, decided to head back to the office. Ut decided to have his lunch, take a couple more pictures and go home. Just as he was on the point of leaving, the unexpected happened. Two South Vietnamese planes, "bumbled off course and dropped their bombs". Ms Chong recreates the scene brilliantly, "Upon impact, the napalm ignited in a fierce explosive splash across the highway and the fields on. Flame shot upwards. Shades of saffron, blood, fire and sunset filled the viewfinder. 'Oh, my god! so beautiful'. In that instant, Nick was sorry that he was shooting black and white instead of colour. Even from the distance of several hundred yards, the blast of heat was as if a door had opened on an immense brick furnace. Fire rolled and rolled out of the treetops. Heavy, dirty black smoke swirled skyward. Gradually, as ash rained down, the scene was recast in shades of gray. The darker rooftops of the twin spires of the temple rose mirage-like beyond the obliterated road and fields in between.

Faint shouts and screams could be heard.

The photographers got to work, this was the day's "picture". And then when most of the ghastly images of the dying and the wounded had been shot, "a child's cry pierced the emptiness". A half- dozen children ran down the road, among them a screaming girl who had torn her clothes off in agony. Ut was the only one with any film left to record her trauma.

The girl in the picture, Kim Phuc, survived her injuries but her troubles did not end there. For years afterwards she was used by the authorities who featured her in their propaganda as a living example of American cruelty. Finally Kim managed to escape to Canada where she lived in anonymity. The media eventually tracked her down in the 1990s. Dormant memories re-awakened as she began to relive the nightmare. But, on the positive side, people who were moved by her story (her husband and she were not exactly well off) helped with money and support. Today she is a United Nations goodwill ambassador and has established the Chicago based Kim Foundation to help child victims of war. She dreams but rarely of her nine-year-old self or the day she raced down Route 1, her body on fire. For Kim the war is finally over.

DAVID DAVIDAR

Send this article to Friends by E-Mail

Section  : Features
Next     : Skins and bones