The conference took place in December 1994, and, not surprisingly, most participants found themselves reflecting on both the Vietnam struggle and more recent memories of the Persian Gulf struggle. The participants were impressive, ranging from well-known journalists such as David Halberstam and Seymour Hersh to academics such as George Herring and Marilyn Young. Kiem Do, a veteran of the South Vietnamese army, also participated. Others taking part were major players in the My Lai tragedy, including Ron Ridenhour, who exposed the massacre to the later government prosecutor, William Eckhardt. Even Hugh C. Thompson, Jr., who landed his helicopter in the midst of the massacre and attempted to defend some of the civilians at My Lai, was present. The participation of professional officers such as Harry G. Summers and professional therapists such as Robert Jay Lifton also made the discussions and presentations exceptionally worthwhile.

The book begins with an especially thought-provoking essay by Robert Jay Lifton, “Looking into the Abyss: Bearing Witness to My Lai and Vietnam,” which centers on what he calls “atrocity-producing situations.” Lifton emphasizes that the entire “intellectual” climate of the Vietnam War promoted free fire zones, body counts, and search and destroy missions, which encouraged random killings and specific horrors like My Lai. Lifton points out the soldiers in Charlie Company had just lost a beloved sergeant and—just before the orgy of killing began—were given a pep talk by Captain Medina that seemed to inspire them to kill randomly. Clearly what matters most in life is not what is going on but what people think is going on. The men of Charlie Company, as they entered My Lai that infamous morning in 1968, were well primed to believe they would be facing a deadly enemy, regardless of considerable evidence to the contrary. Lifton’s comments are particularly poignant for readers who have been inundated with stories about atrocities being committed in Kosovo and East Timor.

The book’s subsequent chapters examine My Lai from a wide range of perspectives—from those of journalists and creative artists to those of the military, academic, and legal professions. The second chapter, “Experiencing the Darkness,” centers on personal testimony by William G. Eckhardt, Ron Ridenhour, and Hugh C. Thompson, Jr., who played major roles ranging from helping to stop the massacre to reporting on it and prosecuting those accused.

“Reporting the Darkness: The Role of the Press in the Vietnam War” consists largely of a discussion by journalists and academics about the media’s role in uncovering the massacre. Participants included Warren Bell, David Halberstam, Seymour Hersh, Ron Ridenhour, Kevin Sim, and Kathleen Turner.

The fourth chapter, “Carrying the Darkness: Literary Approaches to Atrocity,” draws on the insights of John Balaban, W. D. Ehrhart, Wayne Karlin, and Basil Paquet. This chapter ranges from poetry inspired by the Vietnam struggle to personal testimony from writers like Balaban who, while serving as a conscientious objector in Vietnam, worked among the Vietnamese recording their poetic traditions. Especially interesting is the discussion of efforts like those of the poet Basil Paquet to use the publication of Vietnamese poetry as a vehicle to struggle against the war itself.

“What Kind of War Was the Vietnam War?” by George C. Herring focuses on the discrepancy between Americans’ image of themselves and their “proper” role in the world and the reality of the Vietnam war, which saw Americans carrying out acts that contradicted their own sense of self-esteem. He highlights the enormous gap between the image young Americans of the Vietnam era had of the Second World War, which inspired many of their fathers, and what they actually found in Vietnam. Clearly this was not the war experience that many of their fathers had told them about. In Vietnam there were hardly any clear lines between the enemy and the civilian population, between the front lines and the rear. The enemy and the war itself seemed everywhere and nowhere. The only way to measure “progress” at all was the infamous body counts. And of course any dead Vietnamese could be counted as a defeated enemy. Herring also discusses the gap that continued to grow between the American forces and those they were supposedly working for, the people and military forces of the government of South Vietnam.

“Atrocities in Historical Perspective,” written by Stephen Ambrose, discusses the nature of atrocity in war, noting how common it has been even in the American experience. But he also emphasizes the unusual nature of the Vietnam struggle: the constant rotation of individuals and the official decision not to ship groups of soldiers over as cohesive units, which had been commonly done in previous wars, made it especially difficult to develop a sense of comradeship among soldiers.

“The Law of War: The Case of My Lai” centers on the question of how atrocities like My Lai fit into the doctrines of the international laws of war. The chapter emphasizes that the Vietnam struggle, as a war of attrition, put so much emphasis on body counts that killing itself became the only means of measuring success. The discussants also emphasize the lack of any leadership that might have created a more disciplined environment within Charlie Company.

Chapter 8, “Individuals and the Trauma of War,” presents the views of Robert Jay Lifton, Patience Mason, Jonathan Shay, and Karin Thompson. It focuses on Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and points out that it is more likely to occur among veterans who experienced heavy combat or witnessed atrocities. There is an important emphasis as well on the experience of the spouses of those who have suffered from PTSD.

“Military Lessons Learned” was authored by Walter E. Boomer, Henry L. Mason, Hays Parks, and Harry G. Summers, Jr. Here again, emphasis is placed on matters of leadership and the unfortunate fact that the frequent rotation of officers within Vietnam made the development of experienced, mature officers especially hard to maintain. Discussion also centers around efforts in recent years to teach the laws of war to combat troops and to create a formal system for reporting such atrocities up the ranks.

“The Mystery of My Lai” by Tim O’Brien discusses the effort to use fiction to help people understand how capable almost anyone can be under certain circumstances to carry out acts such as occurred at My Lai. O’Brien emphasizes the rage provoked by the unseen enemy and questions why some people crossed the line and acted on those emotions.

“Healing the Wounds,” the last chapter, consists of a conversation among conference participants. Possibly the most difficult question that the participants attempted to address was whether My Lai was a horrible aberration, a smirch on the professional reputation of the U.S. military, or simply the best-known example of a common pattern of mass murders. Some have insisted that My Lai was essentially a more collective and communal version of the horrors of the infamous Phoenix Program, which eliminated those thought to be part of the NLF infrastructure within the villages of South Vietnam.

This book is especially worth seeking out, not just for those interested in My Lai or the Vietnam War, but for all interested in the interaction between the human spirit and the horrors of war. Readers ranging from therapists and artists to military historians will find this an excellent and enlightening volume.