On the Runway - Darnell Summers

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Posted by RedVet on 12/15/1998

This month, at the Vietnam Veterans Against the War/Anti-
Imperialist web site, we received Darnell Summers' personal
narrative. Darnell Summers has been a member Vietnam Veterans
Against the War/Anti-Imperialist from the begining. He is the co-
founder of the "Stop The War Brigade" founded in Germany in 1991
along with Dave Blalock and Brian Chambers which initiated early
actions against the First Gulf War. - redvet


Date: Wed, 9 Dec 1998 07:12:31 -0800 (PST)
From: unknown_address
To: vva...@oz.net Subject:
Feedback mail from WebSite

On the Runway

As many before me arriving in Viet Nam, I was processed through the
93rd Replacement Co. in Long Binh. My group of new-bees had the
mandatory patriotic pep-talk and briefing. We had to stay a few
days, waiting on our travel orders, doing work-details (filling
body bags or burning our very own shit with gasoline, a wicked
smell I assure you) and then we received orders to our respective
units. I was on my way to Red Beach, my first duty assignment with
the 56th TRANS. BATTALION (ADS). My flight was scheduled to depart
from Bien Hoa airbase.

I walked into a large waiting-area full of uniforms and faces.
Happy faces, not-so happy faces, sad faces and blank faces.
Soldiers, Sailors and Airmen coming and going. Some on R&R, some
going home, some like me-a tenderfoot with no idea about nothing-,
some who knew but wanted to forget, the walking dead, the just
about to die, those who didn't give a *CENSORED*, and last but not least,
the not so occasional murderers. I was looking into a sea of death.

There was a lot to observe and absorb your first few days in Viet
Nam. It was said that your life expectancy was about 7 minutes and
anything beyond that was a gift. You had to come to grips with the
blinding pace of everything. Hurry up and eat, hurry up and sleep,
hurry up and fight, hurry up and have sex, hurry up and die you
poor stupid soul. I saw hope in some of the faces. A hope tempered
by the destiny of war and as sure as the Sun will rise, many will
die.

I showed my orders and ID. to the clerk on duty at the ticket
counter. I was given a flight and my name was placed on a manifest.
I had, as I recollect, an hour or so before departure.

I stepped outside and looked toward the runway just wanting to lose
myself in the moment and day-dream my fear away. Since my childhood
I'd been fascinated with aircraft and the sight of so many aircraft
moving steadily towards take-off and oblivion glued my jungle boots
to the tarmac.

As the aircraft inched toward take-off they would periodically
brake, their noses then would surge forward trying to escape the
grip of the landing-gear. It was an awesome sight. F4 Phantoms,
Caribou, C-130's, A-6's, Huey's, Dakota's, Cobras's, fixed and
rotary wing aircraft of every description ready to get busy.

But what really caught my attention were the fight-bomber aircraft
laden with napalm and high explosives. Their presence left no doubt
as to what this was all about. Killing on a grand scale, without
mercy. You could barely see the flight-helmets of the pilots from
where I was standing, their visors pulled down hiding their Èlan or
their despair.The noise was horrific. Yes, war is loud. The heat
was unbearable. 110 degrees in the shade. Noxious kerosene fumes
hung low over the whole God-damned place. If this wasn't Hell then
all you sinners better watch out.

My eyes panned from one side to the other taking in the macabre
scene. I couldn't escape the ever-present theme of death. I
gathered my gear, turned to the left and began to walk slowly
alongside the taxi-area following the planes down to take-off. I
was so near to the action, and that was what I wanted from the
first time I saw soldiers ducking and dodging live fire on ABC, NBC
& CBS television reports. I wanted to be there and here I was. The
brush with Death. I was going in and nothing could stop it now. It
was all in someone elses hands, and I don't mean the Almighty. Some
ass-hole at the Pentagon was calling the shots.

While lolly-gagging down the line my head turned briefly to the
left and I caught a glimpse of a dark figure shooting up from the
ground like a tree stump. Closer investigation revealed that that
figure was a man squatting on the ground dressed in black pajamas
with a black hood pulled over his head. Standing not to far away
were two white soldiers guarding him, their M-16's pointing at his
head.

He sat their motion-less, oblivious to his surrounding or
onlookers. His only crime was being Vietnamese. His tormentors just
looked for an opportunity to blow him away if he just twitched. I
could see the hate in their eyes and how important they felt
guarding such a defenseless human-being. The LICENSE TO KILL is
most often devoid of conscience and/or compassion. I stood there
several minutes watching and feeling guilty about my inability to
impact on that situation. As much as I had loved "Crusader Rabbit",
as a kid, there was precious little I could or would do. I was
angry about the situation, but not angry enough.

I knew he was hot, hungry, uncomfortable and thirsty and I also
knew that had I interfered I would join him. No, I'm not a coward
but I did act cowardly in the face of injustice. His ears must have
been ringing from the deafening noise on the runway. He squatted
there and heard every plane take off bringing death and destruction
to his country. I stood there with him and lived to talk about it.

The fact that I didn't guarantee that he received a drink of water
or some other relief sticks in my craw to this day. I don't know of
his fate but I assume that he is dead, killed, murdered by the
forces of whose uniform I wore.

SP4 DARNELL S. SUMMERS
RA 16932434