On Killing

responsibility and guilt. As we saw in a previous section, this characteristic, which I prefer to call aggressive personality (a sociopath has the capacity for aggression without any empathy for his fellow human beings; the aggressive personality has the capacity for aggression but may or may not have a capacity for empathy), is probably a matter of degrees rather than a simple categorization.

Those who are truly fixated with the exhilaration of killing either are extremely rare or simply don’t talk about it much. A combination of both of these factors is responsible for the lack of individuals (outside of fighter pilots) who like to write about or dwell upon the satisfaction they derived from killing. There is a strong social stigma against saying that one enjoyed killing in combat. Thus it is extraordinary to find an individual expressing emotions like these communicated by R. B. Anderson in “Parting Shot: Vietnam Was Fun(?)”:

Twenty years too late, America has discovered its Vietnam veterans…. Well-intentioned souls now offer me their sympathy and tell me how horrible it all must have been.

The fact is, it was fun. Granted, I was lucky enough to come back in one piece. And granted, I was young, dumb, and wilder than a buck Indian. And granted I may be looking back through rose-colored glasses. But it was great fun [Anderson’s emphasis]. It was so great I even went back for a second helping. Think about it.

…Where else could you divide your time between hunting the ultimate big game and partying at “the ville”? Where else could you sit on the side of a hill and watch an air strike destroy a regimental base camp?…

Sure there were tough times and there were sad times. But Vietnam is the benchmark of all my experiences. The remainder of my life has been spent hanging around the military trying to recapture some of that old-time feeling. In combat I was a respected man among men. I lived on life’s edge and did the most manly thing in the world: I was a warrior in war.

The only person you can discuss these things with is another veteran. Only someone who has seen combat can understand the deep fraternity of the brotherhood of war. Only a veteran can know about the thrill of the kill and the terrible bitterness of losing a friend who is closer to you than your own family.

This narrative gives us a remarkable insight into what there is about combat that can make it addicting to some. Many veterans might disagree strongly with this representation of the war, and some might quietly agree, but few would have this author’s courageous openness.[38]

The Remorse Stage: A Collage of Pain and Horror

We have previously observed the tremendous and intense remorse and revulsion associated with a close- range kill:

…my experience, was one of revulsion and disgust…. I dropped my weapon and cried…. There was so much blood… I vomited…. And I cried…. I felt remorse and shame. I can remember whispering foolishly, “I’m sorry” and then just throwing up.

We have seen all of these quotes before, and this collage of pain and horror speaks for itself. Some veterans feel that it is rooted in a sense of identification or an empathy for the humanity of their victim. Some are psychologically overwhelmed by these emotions, and they often become determined never to kill again and thereby become incapable of further combat. But while most modern veterans have experienced powerful emotions at this stage, they tend to deny their emotions, becoming cold and hard inside — thus making subsequent killing much easier.

Whether the killer denies his remorse, deals with it, or is overwhelmed by it, it is nevertheless almost always there. The killer’s remorse is real, it is common, it is intense, and it is something that he must deal with for the rest of his life.

The Rationalization and Acceptance Stage: “It Took All the Rationalization I Could Muster”

The next personal-kill response stage is a lifelong process in which the killer attempts to rationalize and accept what he has done. This process may never truly be completed. The killer never completely leaves all remorse and guilt behind, but he can usually come to accept that what he has done was necessary and right.

This narrative by John Foster reveals some of the rationalization that can take place immediately after the kill:

It was like a volleyball game, he fired, I fired, he fired, I fired. My serve — I emptied the rest of the magazine into him. The rifle slipped from his hands and he just fell over….

It sure wasn’t like playing army as a kid. We used to shoot each other for hours. There was always a lot of screaming and yelling. After getting shot, it was mandatory that you writhe around on the ground.

…I rolled the body over. When the body came to rest, my eyes riveted on his face. Part of his cheek was gone, along with his nose and right eye. The rest of his face was a mixture of dirt and blood. His lips were pulled back and his teeth were clinched. Just as I was feeling sorry for him, the Marine showed me the U.S. Government M1 carbine the gook had used on us. He was wearing a Timex watch and sporting a new pair of U.S.-made tennis shoes. So much for feeling sorry for him.

This narrative gives a remarkable — and almost certainly unintentional — insight into the early aspects of rationalizing a personal kill. Note the writer’s recognition of the killer’s humanity associated with the use of words such as “he,” “him,” and “his.” But then the enemy’s weapon is noted, the rationalization process begins, and “he” becomes “the body” and ultimately “the gook.” Once the process begins, irrational and irrelevant supporting evidence is gathered, and the possession of U.S.-made shoes and a watch becomes a cause for depersonalization rather than identification.

To the reader this rationalization and justification is completely unnecessary. To the writer this rationalization and justification of his kill are absolutely essential to his emotional and psychological health, and their progression is unconsciously revealed in his narrative.

Sometimes the killer is quite aware of his need for and use of rationalization. Note the conscious rationalization and justification in this account by scout helicopter pilot D. Bray:

We began to be very efficient executioners, a role we took no real pride in.

I had mixed feelings about this, but as bad as it was, it was better than leaving NVA alive to attack American troops somewhere else. Often orders for the day would be: Find NVA in this or that area… to pick up for interrogation.

We would drift up and down hillsides, following trails and literally looking under big rocks until we would find several NVA huddled on the ground, trying to hide. We would radio back to headquarters as we backed off far enough to arm our rockets. Orders would be “Wait, we’re checking it out.” Then the bad news would come, “Wrong area, Fixer. Are they making any signs of surrender?”

We would reply, “Negative,” and then they would come back with, “Kill them if you can.”

“For God’s sake, can’t you send someone out to take them prisoner?”

“There is no one available. Shoot them!”

“Roger,” we’d reply, and then we’d cut loose. Sometimes they would understand and take off running for cover, but usually, they would just crouch in their holes until our rockets hit. Common sense told me that the senior officers were right; it was foolish to send a platoon after every little band of three or four armed men, but it took all the rationalization I could muster before I could accept what I was doing.

…Distasteful as it was, looking back, I can see that what we did was the only effective way to counter the