We saw Montagnards. They was all dead except these two kids that run away. I found them hidin’ in the woods, ’cause this little girl, about three years old, started cryin.’ Her brother was about five, and he was wounded in the stomach. This little fella reminded me of myself when I was small. ’Bout the same complexion. Big head full of curly hair. I just could not kill him. So I brought him and his sister back.
I grabbed the little boy, and I put him against my body. He bled all over me. From the time I left from the helicopter pad to the first-aid station, everybody was talkin’
’bout, “Kill the little motherfucker.”
I said, “Naw, you ain’t gon’ kill this one. He gon’ live.”
They took me directly to this officer, and he told me I will not bring another Vietn’ese living body into that unit unless I am specifically told to bring prisoners. If it happened again, I would be court-martialed. —Gene Woodley, Jr. (Bloods)
