The My Lai massacre, of course, would come to be known as one of the darkest moments in American military history. In just four hours, nearly 500 Vietnamese civilians were killed. If not for Thompson, the body count would have been far higher. Defying a senior officer, he evacuated 10 civilians to safety, then landed to pull a squirming baby out of a ditch stacked with bodies. The killing spree stopped only after Thompson got back to base and told his commander what was happening.
The Pentagon’s official report on the massacre hailed Thompson, now a Louisiana veterans counselor, as a hero. But nearly three decades later the army is still locked in a bitter feud over whether to give him the prestigious Soldier’s Medal for his bravery. In one internal 1996 Pentagon e-mail obtained by NEWSWEEK, an army major urged outgoing Assistant Army Secretary Sara Lister to hold off: ““We would be putting an ugly, controversial, and horrible story on the media’s table,’’ he wrote. ““It’s just my 2 cents but I recommend sitting on this completely until clear of the election.’’ Lister insists the medal will eventually go through; it’s just a matter of finding the right time. But it may not be so simple. My Lai is still deeply embarrassing to the senior ranks, many of whom are ashamed of the permanent stain the massacre left on the army. And with new military scandals–about sex and race–now making headlines, some in the Pentagon are especially reluctant to reopen old wounds. Thompson certainly isn’t holding his breath. ““The award doesn’t stand a horse’s chance in hell,’’ he told NEWSWEEK.
Thompson doesn’t need a citation to remind him of that day–he can’t forget any of it. Approaching the village, he saw a teenage Vietnamese girl lying wounded in a rice field. From his chopper, Thompson popped a green smoke flare to mark her location and radioed for help. On the ground, an army captain ran to her. But instead of helping the girl, ““he blew her away,’’ Thompson says.
Finally he could take no more. He spotted a group of GIs chasing about 10 Vietnamese fleeing to a makeshift bunker. Thompson set down his chopper in front of the advancing Americans and gave his gunner Lawrence Colburn a simple, direct order: Colburn was to train his M-60 on the GIs. If the Americans attempted to harm the villagers, ““blow [the soldiers] away.’’ Thompson coaxed the civilians out of the bunker. A nearby escort helicopter flew them to safety.
Low on fuel, Thompson was passing over a ditch filled with corpses when his other crewman, Glenn Andreotta, saw something move. Thompson landed. Wading into the heap, Andreotta emerged with a 3-year-old boy who was covered in blood but physically unharmed.
Thompson stayed in uniform for another 13 years, testifying against Lt. William Calley, the commanding officer who was court-martialed for murder at My Lai. Thompson eventually returned home to fly helicopters for an oil company. Then last year, unknown to Thompson, a hard-charging lieutenant colonel named Kevin Clement began pushing Thompson’s case with the brass, holding up the pilot as a role model for officers in training. Clement got the higher-ups to study giving Thompson the medal before West Point cadets.
Then, nothing. Some in the Pentagon suggested giving Thompson the medal in a private ceremony that wouldn’t draw attention. Frustrated, Clement e-mailed his superiors. ““I thought the criteria we applied was supposed to [be] . . . “Is it fair to the soldier?’ –not, “How will this play in the press?’ ''
Back in 1969, Thompson refused another army medal, the Distinguished Flying Cross, believing the army was trying to buy his silence. But no matter what the brass decides, Thompson won’t come away empty-handed. Next March he’ll be in My Lai for the massacre’s 30th anniversary. There he’ll be reunited with the bloody child he once pulled out of a ditch, now all grown up.
