Grave Movers

It was 1968 at the RMK-BRJ Construction site dispensary at Chu Lai, Vietnam, when six foot six "Big Jim" burst into my dispensary and yelled, "Vic, we need you." 

He explained the project manager told him to get me. A Vietnamese hamlet located along highway one had brought the road building to a halt. The hamlet Chief was paid funds to move a grave next to the road so that it could be widened and paved. The grave had not been moved, and the hamlet Chief refused to any take action. "Big Jim" was charged with going out and moving the remains in the grave.

I asked why I was needed, and why was it necessary that I go. I knew what he was going to say; I heard it many times before. 

He said, "You know the Vietnamese better than anybody; you know

how to deal with them." "Come on, let's go"! 

There was some truth to this; for two years, I was the only American or foreigner to live 24 hours a day in a company work camp to give medical care to 40000 Vietnamese workers. I learned about their culture and customs and ate with them. Even

though it was known that the camp contained Viet Cong, and with me being isolated, I felt safe. There seem to be an unspoken but acknowledged gentleman's agreement. I took care of all in

need, no question asked, and I was protected within the confines of the camp.

I trusted "Big Jim" J.A.C. Renolds; in 1958, both of us went through the US Marine Corps boot camp together in San Diego, California. Previously he served for several years in the Malaysian Police Force as an officer fighting in the jungles, using aggressive small units patrolling for Malayan communist insurgents. He was an experienced combat veteran and would not do anything stupid.

To disturb this ancient Vietnamese grave was seriously dangerous business and not to be taken

lightly, it could provoke violence. The land was owned and farmed over 300 hundred years by

the same family, who buried generations of relatives on this land. The land was their heart and

soul and tied to the buried ancients resting at the corners of the rice paddy. According to hamlet

chiefs, plots of this farm were granted to men who had fought valiantly for various Vietnamese

rulers over Vietnam's thousands of years of ancient history.

With three trusted Vietnamese workers "Big Jim" and I drove down high one about halfway to

Quang Ngai to the hamlet. I did not like the area we were located in. Toward the south and to left

of highway one was a shallow bowl-like depression with rice paddy fields. At the rice paddies,

corners stood ancient stone grave markers, and brick tombs next to the rice paddies was a small

hamlet with bamboo thatched huts. To left flank, a range of trees and bushes offered excellent

coverage for a VC sniper or one with an AK-47.

"Big Jim" pointed out the gravesite. After my initial examination, I directed the Vietnamese

crew to carefully dig up the first foot or so of topsoil. I then took over, and on my hands and

knees, very carefully inch by inch scrapped the blacken topsoil away till I saw discolored dirt

and bone fragments, which I carefully moved piece by piece to the bright red wooden coffin next

to me. Most of the remains were discolored with white, grey, and black dirt except for the small

thigh and arm bones and various bone fragments.

Suddenly, my interpreter Nhan whispered in my ear, "Vic some village people are coming!" I

observed an orderly group of men walking along the rice paddy path towards us, dressed in black

and wearing the customary bamboo hats; they walked one behind the other. I was not alarmed

and told everybody to relax; they were the hamlet elders and leaders. The most senior elders

walked in front with the least senior elders following by their rank. This group didn't appear to

be aggressive. I slowly approached the senior elder and bowed, showing respect for him. He

bowed back, and I shook his hand, using both of my hands. I thanked him for coming and

explained that with great respect and care, that I was moving the remains and all the soil around

it and placing it in the red coffin. He smiled and offered that his group would continue to move

the remains. I replied, "it is more appropriate for the elders to complete the ceremony, and if they

needed our assistance, we would be nearby." After their work was done, we thanked each other.

The hamlet chiefs picked up the red wooden coffin and carried it to the village. Big Jim and I

gathered up our group and took off for the Army base for security before the Viet Cong came out

to control the night.