History's A Disaster
Bloody history and bloodier crimes. Andrew takes a weekly look at all things bloody. From natural disasters to man made atrocities
History's A Disaster
The My Lai Massacre
A quiet hamlet at dawn. No return fire. Smoke, screams, and a ditch that won’t leave your mind. We walk through how an ordinary American unit, raised on heroic war stories and trained to chase “body count,” entered My Lai expecting a firefight and left a graveyard behind. From the briefing that erased the idea of civilians to the moment a single killing unlocked a flood, we examine how culture, orders, and fear converged into atrocity—and how a helicopter crew chose to stand between rifles and villagers to keep them alive.
We dig into the mechanics and morality: scorched-earth tactics, platoons splitting through huts, the ditch executions under Lieutenant William Calley, and the chilling calm of false after-action reports. Then the second battle—truth versus institution—takes shape. Reports disappear, careers are protected, and those who speak up face threats or indifference. The silence finally breaks thanks to Ronald Ridenhour’s persistence, the Peers investigation’s scope, Seymour Hersh’s reporting, and Ronald Haeberle’s photographs that forced a nation to look. The fallout shifted public opinion, fueled the antiwar movement, and exposed a justice system that punished a single junior officer while sparing the chain of command.
Through it all, we center the courage of Warrant Officer Hugh Thompson and his crew, Lawrence Colburn and Glenn Andreotta, who landed between U.S. troops and terrified villagers, evacuated survivors, and later found a lone child alive in the ditch. Their story offers a counterpoint to despair: leadership is a choice, and accountability starts with one person refusing to look away. Press play to hear a stark, human account of My Lai—what led to it, who tried to stop it, who hid it, and why remembering matters now. If this resonates, subscribe, share, and leave a review so more listeners can find the show.
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Rural farm life has got to be incredibly dull. Get up early, go feed the pigs, check on the chickens, take a stroll through the rice patties, dodge incoming fire as American forces invade your small village, watch in horror as huts are burned, livestock slaughtered, children are ripped from their mothers' arms and executed. Just another day in rural Vietnam. Well, as long as that day is March 16, 1968. So, what happened? I'm Andrew, and this is History's A Disaster. Tonight we're jumping into the Mi Lai massacre that took place in the village of San Mi during the Vietnam War. And tonight's episode is brought to you by Thumper Ditch Digging and Cleaning Services. Got a ditch that keeps flooding, full of garbage and debris? Then thump it with Thumper. They'll get your ditch clear and water shooting through it in no time. Late in 1966, most of the 150 men who would come to form Charlie Company were just enlisting. They would spend the winter going through basic training, learning the job of being an infantryman. The soldiers of Charlie Company, 1st Battalion, 20th Infantry Regiment, 11th Brigade, America had arrived in Vietnam in December of 1967. They were young, many barely out of high school. All of them had grown up listening to stories from their dads and grandfathers, tales of heroism and courage, of the epic battles of good versus evil. So they were ready to serve like their fathers before them. But Vietnam was not their father's war. Large-scale battles like their dads fought would be few and far between. Instead, they'd be fighting against a guerrilla insurgency, where the enemy was rarely seen and death could come from anywhere. Whether it be a sniper's bullet, any of a number of booby traps or landmines. Victory would not be counted by the amount of land taken. Instead, it would be a war of attrition. Victory was a high body count. That was the war these young men walked into when they landed in Kuang Nai province in late December of 1967. Once they landed in Kuang Nai on the north coast of the Republic of Vietnam, they went through days of orientation and combat assault training, followed by weeks of short patrols that amounted to little more than a walk in the woods. In January of 68, Charlie Company was assigned to Task Force Barker, a force of 500 men from different units in the Americal Division, led by Colonel Frank Barker, and moved to the San Tin District to the north, which was under the control of the Viet Cong's 48th Local Force Battalion. Their mission, per Colonel Barker's orders, seek and destroy the Viet Cong in the region. Charlie Company was moved to L Z Dadi, northeast of Quang Dai City, alone in the VC-controlled countryside. They would sit out and miss the Battle of Quang Dai City that was part of the Tet Offensive. However, once the battle was over and the VC had retreated to the country, they were given the task to hunt them down and wipe them out. They sent out patrol after patrol with very little enemy contact. However, they would take multiple casualties from sniper fire, traps, and mines. On one patrol, three men were killed and 16 wounded when they stumbled into a minefield. They believed the locals all knew about the minefield and purposely did not warn the Americans, which led to ever-increasing harsh treatment from the men of Charlie Company as they grew resentful and distrusted the locals they were coming to see as no different from the VC they were fighting. Unconfirmed rumors of torture and murder would eventually make the rounds. But nothing ever came of it. By March 14th, when a mine killed a well-loved sergeant, the company was pissed and screaming for vengeance. The day after, on March 15th, Lieutenant Colonel Barker outlined his plans for the next day's operation to his officers and his command bunker at L Z Dadi, about 7 miles northwest of their target, Sun Mai. Sun Mai was a collection of a dozen small villages in an agricultural region northeast of Kwangnai City. It was split up into four hamlets Tukong, Milai, Mikai, and Kolu, which, of course, is not what the military called them. They had to give them different names for, well, whatever reason. Mikai village was Milai 1 or Pinkville. Mihou village was Mikai 4, and Zom Lang and Bintai Village were Milay 4. They were all told the area was controlled by the Viet Cong's 48th Battalion, headquartered either in Mi Lai 1 or Milae 4, and that the task force would experience heavy resistance from both Viet Cong and Viet Cong sympathizers in the area. Captain Ernest Medina, Charlie Company's commander, briefed his men later that evening, following a memorial service for the sergeant killed the day before. His briefing was simple: scorched earth, burned the village down, kill livestock, and anyone they found. There would be no non-combatants in the area. Everyone was either VC or a sympathizer. This was an enemy stronghold and completely under the control of the 48th Local Force Battalion. The assault on Sun Mai began with an artillery barrage at dawn, clearing the landing zones. The first men from Charlie Company reached their landing zone just west of Mili 4 around 7.30, with 3rd Platoon joining them 20 minutes later. After securing the landing zone, they began advancing on Mi Lai 4, with 1st Platoon approaching from the south and 2nd Platoon from the north. 3rd Platoon, tasked with moving in to destroy the village once it had been secured, held back with Captain Medina's command group. As they moved on the village, they opened fire on anyone who ran and into any likely hiding places. They killed several villagers on this advance. Despite expectations, there was no return fire, no booby traps or mines laying in wait for an unsuspecting soldier. As they entered Mili 4, 1st and 2nd Platoon began burning the huts, rounding up villagers, and destroying food stores. Standard practice on search and destroy missions. As they moved deeper into the village, platoons became separated and the tension was growing as they expected at any minute to take enemy fire. They found no enemies as they went through the village. Nothing but old men, women, and children. But orders were given. Some balked and hesitated, but once the first shots were fired, a killing frenzy would sweep through the company. As 2nd Platoon advanced into the northwest corner of Mili 4, a crying woman came running out of a hut carrying a baby. One lieutenant ordered a private to shoot the woman. He hesitated but followed orders. The killing frenzy had begun. Soldiers threw grenades in the huts and cut down anyone who ran. The leader of 1st Squad's 2nd Platoon shot several unarmed villagers after forcing them from their homes. One private reportedly fired at least two rounds from his M79 grenade launcher into a group of prisoners consisting of men, women, and children. He turned and used another private's M16 to shoot at least five Vietnamese prisoners, including a woman and two girls being escorted by members of First Platoon. No one stepped up to stop him, and he later bragged about the killing. Lieutenant Cali's 1st Platoon entered from the south of the village. Soldiers threw grenades into crowded huts, shot fleeing villagers, and herded survivors into ditches and opened fire. During the carnage, several privates gathered up a group of 50 unarmed villagers, including women and children. Lieutenant Cali, under pressure from his captain to advance more quickly through the village, approached and ordered the men to shoot the prisoners. Once the order was given, they began firing their M16s into the group, stopping only to change magazines. Kelly, along with his radio operator, then moved on to another group of detained men, women, and children. Kelly, along with several other soldiers, started pushing the villagers into a nearby irrigation ditch. Kelly then told them to open fire. At one point, a young boy over round two attempted to crawl out of the ditch. Callie reportedly picked the boy up, threw him back in, and then shot him. As more villagers were brought to the ditch, Kelly ordered them thrown in too and shot. The killing at the ditch continued for a full hour. As they were shooting, people in the ditch kept trying to get out, and some of them managed to make it to the top. But before they could get away, they were shot again. Around 8.30, Captain Medina ordered Lieutenant Brooks and his platoon north of Milae 4 to recover weapons from the bodies of two Viet Cong fighters killed by choppers, and then further north to the village of Bin Thai. Then 2nd Platoon continued the burnings, killings, and rapes which had occurred in Milae 4. At Bin Thai, Private First Class Leonard Gonzales rescued a 16-year-old girl who had been assaulted by another soldier. Gonzales also confronted a private standing next to a pile of naked bodies of women and girls. The private claimed that he had ordered the women to undress, but they had resisted and he had fired two rounds of buckshot from his M79 grenade launcher into the group. Around 9.30, Captain Medina issued orders to stop shooting, burn all the structures in Bintai, collect the surviving villagers, and move them to the southwest. When the first artillery barrage had begun earlier, 300 villagers, along with a small number of Viet Cong, had begun fleeing south towards Route 521. Troops from Charlie Company's 3rd Squad, 3rd Platoon, who had been directed south to recover arms and equipment from Viet Cong killed earlier, approached the group in open fire, killing what was later claimed to be four military-aged males. According to Private Jay Roberts, an army correspondent, and Sergeant Ronald Hayburl, a signal quartz photographer, both circling the area above in the helicopter. The squad also killed at least one woman hiding in a ditch in a rice field before turning back towards Mi Lai 4. Warrant Officer Hugh Thompson had spent the morning circling the village complex with his helicopter crew. Thompson had spent the morning in his chopper throwing out smoke markers whenever he came upon a wounded Vietnamese, which was standard procedure to help American medics find them and provide aid. However, to his horror, he saw that instead of medics, the markers were attracting soldiers who killed the wounded villagers. On one occasion, Thompson and his crew, specialist 4th class Glenn Andreata and Lawrence Colburn, located a wounded Vietnamese woman, marked her location, and then hovered nearby as a group of American soldiers led by Captain Medina himself approached. Thompson, Andreata, and Colburn watched in horror as Medina, who later claimed that the woman made a sudden and threatening move, shot and killed her. Later on, the helicopter crew came across the ditch that appeared to be filled with dead and wounded Vietnamese villagers. Thompson landed nearby and went to investigate. He approached the sergeant, requesting to evacuate the wounded. The sergeant refused, replying only that the only way to help them out is to put them out of their misery. The pair were then approached by Lieutenant Callie, who told Thompson to mind his own damn business. With nothing he could do, Thompson returned to his helicopter and took off. As he did, the crew saw Callie and the sergeant opening fire on the wounded villagers in the ditch. Flying on, Thompson and his crew passed a squad of soldiers approaching a group of Vietnamese villagers gathered together in a bunker. Determined to save them, Thompson landed between the bunker and the approaching soldiers, called a nearby gunship for backup, and ordered his crew to open fire to protect the villagers if necessary, and quickly exited the chopper. Advancing on the lieutenant, Thompson declared that he would be relaying the villagers to safety. The lieutenant was irritated but made no move to stop him. Thompson then persuaded the terrified villagers to leave the bunker and board his chopper, which took them safely southwest of the village. It would take them two trips, and while the helicopter was off transporting the first group, Thompson stood guard between the soldiers and the remaining villagers. Later on, Thompson and his men returned to the ditch where they had encountered Callie earlier. In the ditch they found a single survivor, a girl of no more than six, deeply in shock but still alive. Carrying her back to their helicopter, they flew her to Quangnai City and in Arvin Hospital. She would end up surviving. By the time 3rd Platoon and Captain Medina's command group entered Mi Lai 4 from the west, the village was a hellish, chaotic mess of smoldering wrecks and mutilated corpses. A private and a sergeant both watched as specialist 4th class Fred Winmere from Captain Medina's radio team approached a boy of 5. The boy's face was badly wounded and one of his hands had been shot away. Winmere fired a burst from his M16, killing the boy, and later claimed that it had been an act of mercy. Sergeant Hamburrow, the signal court's photographer, accompanied Third Platoon as it entered the village. He watched as the massacre unfolded, doing his job and taking shot after shot. Stopping to reload his camera, he documented the worst of it. His photos, especially the color shots he took with his private camera, would eventually play a key role in the upcoming inquiry. Around 10.30, Major Charles Calhoun, Colonel Barker's executive officer, radioed Medina and ordered him to stop the killing. Calhoun's motivation for the order remains unknown. Flying above the Song Mi complex in the helicopter, he may have seen the carnage firsthand, and he may also have heard reports from other helicopter crews. In either case, by the time the shooting finally stopped, the men of Charlie Company had killed, raped, and assaulted hundreds of civilians in Mi Lai 4. The exact number of dead is unknown, but best estimates place that number around 500. Throughout the entire operation, they found no weapons in the village and took no enemy fire. Officially, Colonel Barker reported 128 Viet Cong killed and 3 weapons captured in the surrounding area, along with approximately 10 to 11 women and children, quote unquote, inadvertently killed. His report was accepted, and the task force was warmly congratulated by General Westmoreland. As soon as they returned to base, Thompson and his crew reported the atrocities they had witnessed to their superiors. The allegations slowly made their way up the command chain, but most officers were skeptical and hesitant to risk their careers by making such accusations at fellow soldiers. And oddly enough, all copies of Thompson's original after-action report managed to get lost somehow. Strange, right? And as a special thanks for his report, Thompson and his crew would be continuously given harder and harder missions, being shot down multiple times by enemy fire. And in the ultimate fuck you to his superiors that I can only assume hoped he would never make it home, he kept coming back. When Jay Roberts, the brigade's correspondent, approached Colonel Barker with concerns about what he had witnessed, Barker reportedly replied, Don't worry about it, and then told him to write a good story. Several officers would make efforts to investigate reports of civilian deaths in the days and weeks following the massacre. Major General Samuel Coster, commander of the Americal Division, and Colonel Henderson conducted inquiries. But these were very basic and cursory at best and actively suppressed evidence at worst. Thompson's complaints were dismissed. When members of Charlie Company who had moral objections tried to report what had happened, they were ignored or threatened. The institutional instinct was to protect the reputation of the unit and the army rather than pursue justice. For more than a year, the massacre remained hidden from view. The men of Charlie Company were typically silent about what they had witnessed and done. Some were wracked with guilt, while others felt little to no remorse. The army showed no interest in pursuing the matter beyond the initial, inadequate investigations. Thankfully, Ronald Ridenauer, a helicopter door gunner who had not been president at Mili, but who heard detailed accounts from soldiers who were, was deeply troubled by the stories coming out. After returning to the U.S. and receiving his discharge, Ridenauer spent months investigating, talking to members of Charlie Company, and gathering information. In March of 69, exactly one year after the massacre, he sent letters to President Nixon, the Pentagon, the State Department, and members of Congress detailing what he had learned about Milai. His letters could not be ignored. The Army was forced to open a formal investigation. Lieutenant General William Pierce was appointed to lead the inquiry. The Pierce Commission eventually interviewed over 400 witnesses and produced a comprehensive report documenting not just the massacre itself, but the extensive cover-up that followed. The report concluded that at least 175 and possibly up to 400 Vietnamese civilians had been killed, that war crimes had been committed, and that the command structure had failed at every level. While the investigation proceeded within the military, investigative journalist Seymour Hirsch was pursuing the story independently. In November of 69, Hirsch published an article through the Dispatch News Service revealing the massacre and Lieutenant Callie's pending court martial. The story was picked up by major newspapers across the country. Shortly after, photographs taken by Army photographer Ronald Haybor during the massacre were published in newspapers and magazines. The images showed piles of dead bodies, terrified villagers before their execution, and the aftermath of the killings. They were undeniable visual evidence of atrocity. The massacre became front page news around the world. It galvanized the anti war movement in the US and gave credibility to claims that the war was not. Not just strategically misguided, but morally corrupting. For many Americans, Me Lai shattered the image of American soldiers as liberators fighting for freedom and democracy. Instead, they were confronted with evidence that American troops could commit acts as brutal as those attributed to the enemy. Many veterans returning home from Vietnam were greeted to shouts of babykiller and spit-on, which is a far cry from the parades and celebrations their fathers received when they came home from war. The army would charge 26 officers and enlisted men with criminal offenses related to Mili, including murder, rape, sodomy, and maiming. An additional 12 officers were charged with participating in the cover-up. Initially, it seemed that there would be a broad accountability for what had happened. However, charges against most of them were dropped for lack of evidence or dismissed on various procedural grounds. Command influence, poor investigation procedures, and the immunity granted to some soldiers when they testified against others complicated the prosecution. Many officers involved in the cover-up had their cases dropped or received only administrative punishments like letters of censure. In the end, they would only convict one person, Lieutenant William Cally. In March 1971, a military court found him guilty of the premeditated murder of at least 22 civilians. He was sentenced to life in prison with hard labor, and the verdict was controversial for everyone. Anti-war activists and many legal observers felt it was unjust that only the lowest-ranking officer was held accountable while his superiors got away scot-free. They saw him as a scapegoat for systemic failure. Others, especially those who supported the war, viewed Kelly as a soldier following orders in an impossible situation and considered his conviction a betrayal. President Nixon stepped in and intervened, ordering Callie's release from prison to house arrest at Fort Benning. His sentence was eventually reduced to 20 years, then to 10 years. In 1974, he was paroled after serving only three and a half years under house arrest. He never spent any significant amount of time in prison. Captain Medina, Cali's commanding officer, was tried separately for his role in the massacre. He claimed he had not ordered the killing of civilians and had tried to stop it once he learned what was happening. Despite testimonies from soldiers who contradicted his account, when Dina was acquitted on all charges, the legal aftermath of Me Lai was largely a failure of accountability, that only one junior officer was convicted and served minimal time, while more senior officers faced no penalties, showed that the military justice system was either unable or unwilling to seriously address the massacre. The Pierce Commission had documented failures at every level, yet there was no consequences. Hugh Thompson, Lawrence Colburn, and Glenn Andriana, the helicopter crew who had intervened to stop the killing, would eventually be recognized for their heroism. It would take decades. Decades of being shunned and looked down on by the military. Decades of death threats from fellow soldiers and their supporters. In 1998, 30 years after the massacre, they were eventually awarded the Soldiers Medal, the Army's highest award for bravery not involving conflict with an enemy. And that was the Mi Lai Massacre. 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