My Lai, a village of the vietnamese people. Filled with women and children, elders, and usually men. Though most of the men were off doing their duties in the war, leaving the children under the watchful eyes of their mothers and grandparents. The village was not much more than packed dirt and bamboo huts with sun-bleached, thatched roofs, all surrounded by lush green grass. Further past the overgrown turf were the paddy fields; which contributed to many of meals in the small town, growing a plethora of rice. Palm trees and rich vegetation were scattered about, and could be seen from anywhere you stood in the village. Until the day everything burned.

March sixteenth, 1968. Young Myra Nguyen was walking hand in hand with her pregnant mother to the rice fields where her grandfather worked. Myra was nine at the time, and all she knew was adventure and mischief. So much so that the villagers there called her “Ít lẻn”,which roughly translates to “little sneak”.

“How much longer?” the young girl whined softly, tugging on her mother’s bloated fingers.

“Not much Myra just a little bit.” Her mother tried her best to placate her. One hand was gripped tightly in Myra's while the other rested on her swollen belly. Getting from place to place was getting harder for Lieu Nguyen, being seven months pregnant.

The girl huffed in response, turning her eyes downward and dragging her feet excessively to prove her annoyance. Myra lifted her head for only a second to see if her mother had noticed her exaggerated sadness. In that second she caught sight of the paddy field. “I see the grass momma!” Myra squealed jubilantly.

Her mother gave a great sigh of relief. “See I told you, now run ahead and find your grandfather I will be there in a moment.” Lieu spoke, gently pushing her daughter forward after letting go of her soft hand. Finally, she could sit down on a nearby boulder to rest. She loved her daughter to death, but often became agitated with Myra's never ending energy.

Myra’s responding “Okay” was heard only by the wind, as she was already off, running for the rice fields where her grandfather was working. Myra had only gotten a few paces away when the screaming started.

Lieu, who had suddenly stopped on her way to the boulder, was looking in all directions for the cause of the guttural sounds. One hand was still lying on her stomach as she saw the American men rounding up the villagers that were closest to them. Lieu made a dash for her daughter, grabbing her narrow wrist and dragging the girl behind a thick palm tree, its base hidden by tall grass. Lieu forced her aching body to comply and crouch, taking her daughter down with her.

“Momma what’s going on?” Myra whimpered fearfully.

“Stay down and keep your head down.” Lieu hissed gently, needing her daughter to be quiet but also not wanting to frighten her. Lieu poked her head up in time to glimpse an American soldier entering one of the village huts. A woman, not much younger than Lieu herself, was being tugged by her hair to a group of kneeling civilians.  

“Who are these people mommy?” Myra sniveled, her eyes wide and frantic. Silver lined her bottom lid.

“They are bad men, Myra. Very, very bad men. Stay away from them and stay down. Come here, keep your eyes closed.” Lieu pulled her daughter into her arms as much as her enlarged stomach would allow. She ran her delicate, though puffy, fingers through Myra’s onyx hair. Lieu squeezed her eyes shut, flinching whenever she heard someone cry for help. She kissed the crown of Myra’s head repeatedly, tears now marring her tanned face, as she knew she would soon have to let go of her baby girl. Lieu pulled back, only for a second, to look into her daughters midnight eyes.

Myra Nguyen may have been young, but she understood everything that was conveyed in her mother's eyes. She understood that her mother loved her, and would do anything for her. Myra read the apology in her mom's watery gaze, and that was when her own tears started to fall, because never, in her nine years of life, had she ever seen her mother cry. She understood she would never see her Momma again. It shattered her heart so completely, so thoroughly. The young girl sobbed silently.

The gunfire started then, startling both mother and daughter. Lieu pressed her daughter down further, once again peeking over the brush. Someone had tried to run and been gunned down. This was not just a search and discover mission, this was a termination. The American soldiers were screaming at the villagers, holding weapons that were not their own and asking where had they come from. Lieu heard ‘Viet Cong’ shouted several times. She ducked back down just as another soldier fired his machine gun. Just as another body fell. Another innocent life lost in this massacre they called a war.

“Why are people screaming?” Myra whispered to her mother, who was now shielding Myra's body with her own.

“Listen baby, you are going to have to run, run through the field but stay down, crouch so they can’t see you.” Lieu spoke this into her daughters ear, for she knew she could not follow her child to what was hopefully safety. Lieu would not be able to escape amongst the overgrown grass, even if she crawled. She was simply too big, her pregnant belly could hardly permit her to walk right, crawling wasn’t going to happen. And Lieu would not allow her daughter to be caught because of her, even if it meant sacrificing herself and her innocent unborn child. It was a difficult choice, but it wasn’t really a choice to begin with.

“Where are you going to go momma?” Myra looked at Lieu with a question in her wide, slightly down-turned eyes.

“I will only slow you down kid, you gotta run as fast as you can.” Lieu took in a shaky breath, putting on a brave face. She could not fall apart right now, or else Myra would not run.

“Momma what’s going on?” Myra questioned again.

“Baby I am so sorry this is happening. This wasn’t supposed to happen. It wasn’t meant to happen this way. Things weren’t meant to end this way.” Lieu was going to crumble if Myra did not run now.

“Momma what are you talking about?!” Myra raised her voice slightly, finally getting agitated that her mother would not tell her what was happening. When she spoke, her voice was accented by gunfire. “Momma?” Myra said again, softer this time as she saw the tears rolling down her mothers doll-like face.

“If you find your dad, because I know you will, because you will be okay,” Lieu’s voice broke, knowing her words may be false, “Tell him I am sorry, he won’t know why but tell him anyway. Tell him it was an accident and it was only ever him that I loved. Now run Myra, get out of here. Do not look back or stop no matter what you hear or see. Promise me. Promise me you won’t stop?” Lieu spoke urgently, the shouts of the American Soldiers growing closer. She kept hearing the same name spoken over again and again, Lieutenant Calley. He must be the one leading the soldiers.

“Mommy what is going on? Where are you gonna go?” Myra pleaded one last time.

But Lieu would have none of it, “Promise me Myra! Promise.”

“I promise.” Myra spoke, knowing it would be the last time she shared words with her mommy. It would be the last time she did anything with her mother. No more bedtime stories. No more running after the mice in the green fields. No more.

“Good,” Lieu pulled her firstborn child into her arms and squeezed, squeezed her like she was never going to let go. She whispered onto Myra’s hair the words that conveyed so much but still, not enough. “I love you.” Lieu did not know how she found the strength to back away, but she did. She pulled out of her daughters embrace for the last time, and took Myra’s slim face into her sweaty palms. Lieu memorized the lines and curves of her daughters face. She memorized the little freckle above Myra’s eyelid. Memorized the inky curtain of her hair and how it framed her young face. She took one last look at the person she loved the most in the entire world. And then she let go. “Now run Myra, my sweet girl. Run and do not look back.” Lieu ordered her daughter.

Myra turned reluctantly after studying her mother's face to commit to memory. People had always said that they looked identical, she would cherish that fact. Myra sprinted, she ran through the grass as fast as her short legs could carry her, staying hunched over and hidden. She did not stop, even as she heard the screams and gunfire and even as she saw from her peripheral, a group of her fellow villagers get blown to pieces when a bad man blew them apart with a  grenade launcher. Myra just kept on running.

Lieu watched her daughters retreating form, she watched Myra until she was no more than a speck shrouded by the grass. “I love you.” Lieu whispered, once again talking to someone that was no longer around to listen. Tears still strolled down her face as a piece of her heart fractured for the daughter she would never see again. Those tears were still rolling when a meaty hand grabed a fistfull of her ebony hair and yanked her to her feet. The American man brought Lieu’s face close to his and sneered. She looked into his eyes and saw nothing human in his penetrating gaze. Flames from the burning huts around them reflected in his pupils, making it seem as if he were Mara himself. Lieu did not back away from his scarred and dirty face but rather she looked him right in the eye. A challenge. She would not cry. She would not whimper or plead for her life; even as her close friends and neighbors were brutally raped and murdered around her. Even as her home burnt to nothing more than ashes dancing along the ground.

The American soldier twisted Lieu’s hair in his fist and tears pricked her eyes. Still she locked her gaze with his. He roughly forced her to her knees, not taking any care to be gentle even though she was pregnant. The soldier, Captain Medina, straightened out, towering over the curved figure of Lieu. Lieu felt the cold metal barrel press to her temple and knew she was about to see the world for the last time. So she breathed in, and then out. She straightened her spine as best a she could, and lifted her chin high, even as scarlet blood from fellow victims soaked through the knees of her light blue sundress. Lieu stared to where her daughter had been, hoping and praying for her safety. A single tear dribbled down her face, but it was not a tear of fear. No, Lieu was not afraid to die. Not when she knew her daughter was still out there and running to safety. The tear was of sorrow. Sorrow for the life of the unborn child inside her, who would never see the world with their own eyes. Sorrow for Myra, and how this would affect her. Sorrow for her husband who may never truly know what happened to his precious family. Still, Lieu held her head high and breathed in once more.

The American lieutenant pulled the trigger. And not just one, but two more heartbeats faded into this massacre they called a war.