Shaped by War by Don McCullin

Author:Don McCullin [McCullin, Don]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781407054421
Publisher: Random House
Published: 2019-11-06T00:00:00+00:00

I’ve seen massive earthquakes in Iran where they’ve buried twenty thousand people. I’ve seen the bulldozers digging the pits for the bodies. I don’t want to become an expert on death. I can hardly speak the Queen’s English properly, let alone master another person’s language. I’d have to be the greatest linguist in the world to be fully equipped to cross the minefields of problems that confront you on such assignments.

By the time I arrived to cover the war in Cambodia in 1970, I was chasing my French friend who was ahead of me and I thought I was too late. There was something particularly spooky about Cambodia. At first it was almost delightful for many of the journalists who’d spilled over from Vietnam. There was a different pace. The culture of village life had not been shattered. It was described as a sideshow compared to Vietnam, which had been at war for decades. Cambodia seemed like R & R. But I could feel something very sinister.

I had bought myself a brand-new pair of desert boots from Marks & Spencer. The last thing I wanted was to wear military uniform and be captured by the Khmer Rouge. I was accredited in Phnom Penh and got on a helicopter to Prey Veng, which was especially dangerous because it was where the Khmer Rouge attacked the ships bringing ammunition and supplies to Phnom Penh. As there was a battle in progress the helicopter didn’t land, but hovered over a paddy field. The pilot shouted, ‘Now!’ and I jumped straight into the mud in my new shoes.

I got a briefing from a commander with some Vietnamese forces. They were going to capture a village believed to be occupied by the Khmer Rouge. I was told to wait but, instead, I rushed off with a probing force of Cambodian troops. We reached halfway across the rice fields and came under heavy fire. A young boy carrying the Cambodian flag was killed immediately. Bullets started spitting in the water all around me. I panicked and got behind the radio operator so I could get my head covered by something safe. Then the men broke up and ran in all directions. They were taking heavy casualties. I managed to crawl away down the side of a field, dragging my Nikon cameras, keeping them out of the water. I think it was at this stage that one of my Nikons was struck by a bullet. An AK-47 round hit the side of the prism and it was right by my face. Now was the time to escape from this terrible place. There were dead bodies lying face down in the water and I managed to get past them. I zigzagged across this field and could hear mortar shells and small-arms fire coming my way but I managed to get away.

A week later, Jon Swain, a friend from the Sunday Times, told me there was some Khmer activity about twelve kilometres from the town. He had to attend a press conference, but said he’d pick me up later.

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