(M/F, asian, rp, sn, voy)
written by Jack Milton
None of us ever talked about it after the war, but I think
it should be written down while I still remember so
vividly the details of what happened on July 11, 1968 in a
small village close to the Cambodian border in Vietnam.
That was the night that my squad captured a Vietcong agent
responsible for a number of terrorist attacks, including
the blowing up of a Saigon club filled with Americans.
We were sent out into the field with orders to find a
Vietcong agent who specialized in delivering bombs. Our
orders said we were to capture and deliver this person to
an ARVN officer, colonel Ng, for execution. The ARVN had
been trying to eliminate this enemy agent for a long time
and they had claimed authority for the execution.
Army Intelligence has always been an oxymoron, but they
had done their work thoroughly in this case. I was
surprised when we were shown photographs of the agent, a
slender, 28 year-old Vietnamese woman with long hair and a
small scar over her left eyebrow. They even told us where
we would be most likely to find her.
It took a week to finally snare her, but we surrounded her
in a hut where she was busy having intense sex with one of
her male counterparts. The man was lying on top of her,
fucking her as hard as he could. And he had a belt pulled
tightly around her neck while he fucked her.
We could hear her hoarse breath coming out through her
wide-open mouth, her head thrown back as far as it would
go. The two of them were obviously into it. The poor
bastard was close to cumming when sergeant Burkette burst
into the hut, followed by Whitmire and Donato, who were
both PFC's, and myself. We caught them totally by
surprise. He pulled out of her in a fright as we made them
stand with hands on their heads.
The woman wasn't bad looking--if any woman living in filth
could be said to look good. She had nice tits, small and
firm, and she had a flat stomach and she had shaved her
pubic hair to a small patch over her mound. She stood
there, hands on her head, the belt still wrapped around
This was the right woman though, no question
about it. The face, the scar, it was her. She cursed
angrily at us. I never learned more than a few words of
Vietnamese, so I only recognized the swearing. The
Sergeant shoved his gun into her face and said "Shut the
fuck up!" She fell silent.
Her sex partner stood equally silently beside her. He
still had a semi-erection that jerked every time someone
yelled. Suddenly he made a dash for the bed, coming up
with a pistol--a US army service revolver. The sergeant
shot him immediately. I half expected him to do the same
to the woman, and so did she. But he did not.
Instead, he looked at us and said "Let's get her out of
here. Tie her hands behind her back, we're taking her to
"Where is he?" I asked. I had only been briefed on what I
needed to know, where to find the woman.
"At the temple," Burkette replied.
We all knew where that was. About two kliks east of our
position was a village that was now dead. We'd circled
cautiously around it on our way to capture the woman, less
than an hour earlier. In the village was a small temple.
It was a stone building, tall for such a small village,
with a wood shingled roof.
"Why the temple?" Whitmire said. We all wondered the same
"Cause those are our orders" Burkette told us. He slipped
her loose robe over her naked shoulders, leaving her bound
hands still behind her, but hidden from view.
The sergeant hustled us out of the hut and directly into
the forest. He grabbed the belt round her neck so she
couldn't run and he led her, like a dog on a leash, the
entire two kliks. We kept our guns trained on her. She
said nothing. She spoke no English, and seemed not to
understand us. It didn't matter. She was our prisoner and
she understood that well enough.
A squad of ARVN soldiers stood guard around the temple.
They motioned us inside with our prisoner.
Colonel Ng was waiting for us. My first impression was
that he was dangerous. A small but powerful man, he had
the look of authority that indicated he was in total
command there. Whatever he said was law. We were the
Americans, the serious military force, but this was his
country and we were visitors there in this remote jungle
"You have done good work bringing her here. As a reward
you may stay and watch the traitor die," he said. He said
it as though he was granting us a great honor. The woman
made no sign that she understood. I realized that she
spoke no English.
"What are you gonna do?" Donato said.
"I am going to hang her," colonel Ng said flatly.
"What?" Donato couldn't believe what he was hearing. He
wasn't the only one. I had an immediate urge to get the
hell out of there.
"You are not invited to participate," colonel Ng said.
"You are only invited to watch. However, you can wait
outside if you wish." Clearly he wanted us to stay despite
the offer to leave. The man wanted an audience. I believe
he really liked executions.
I almost accepted the offer to leave, even if it meant
displeasing colonel Ng, but I didn't. The truth is that I
knew the woman was under a death sentence. There was
nothing I could have, or would have done about it. I just
wanted to get home in one piece. Also, I have to admit
that the prospect of watching her get hanged had a certain
I had seen people die a lot in Vietnam,
and I hate to say that my initial shock over seeing death
was greatly dulled. It's a casualty of war, you lose that
ability to feel shock over seeing the death of another
person, especially a stranger.
Sergeant Burkette pulled us aside and said "Consider it a
war experience, boys, the colonel is going to hang her
regardless of what we do. And remember, he hasn't invited
his own men to watch, just us."
I didn't see what difference that made, but there was no
further discussion about it. I guess we were all pretty
high on adrenaline after breaking in on the prisoner while
she was getting laid. Seeing her lying there naked, being
choked with a belt, pumping like mad, and then seeing her
partner get shot, it really got us spiked up. I just hoped
the execution would be quick so we could get the hell out
Burkette formally handed the prisoner over to colonel Ng,
saying "She's all yours, sir."
The colonel removed her robe, revealing her nakedness once
again, and led her to a bucket sitting in one corner. He
spoke to her in Vietnamese and she started swearing back
The colonel yanked the belt around her neck tight
and pressed his face up close to hers. Again he spoke to
her. I didn't know what he was saying. He grabbed her
shoulder and roughly forced her down into an uncomfortable
squat over the bucket. He screamed orders at her, and to
my surprise she began to shit in the bucket.
I was completely confused, until Burkette whispered in my
ear that people empty their bowels when they are hanged. I
guess colonel Ng didn't want to make a mess in the Temple,
even if it was alright to perform an execution there. It
was as logical as anything else in Vietnam.
When she was done, he offered her a piece of newspaper to
wipe her ass with. It was the one thing she could do with
her hands tied behind her back. At last, the colonel
allowed her to stand up. He shouted another order, which
brought one of his guards inside. Colonel Ng handed the
bucket of shit to the soldier, who accepted it and left.
"I hate the smell of shit," he said to us, smiling.
Colonel Ng was a strange case, a man who was alternately
savage and cordial.
Then, suddenly savage again, he hauled the woman by the
leash to one of the wood posts which supported the roof
frame. It was quite sturdy--this was the most substantial
building I'd seen in any Vietnamese village. The roof
peaked at about fifteen feet, supported by a half-dozen
large posts and cross braces.
He placed her back against
the post and bound her already tied wrists securely to it.
She was going nowhere, and she knew it. Tears started
streaming from her eyes and she began to protest. Colonel
Ng cuffed her hard across the face and unleashed a long,
angry denunciation in Vietnamese, of which I understood
"Perhaps we should gag her," the colonel said to us, with
a conspiratorial smile.
"An excellent idea," the sergeant said. Burkette was very
excited by the turn of events.
Colonel Ng took a khaki handkerchief from his pocket and
stuffed it in her mouth. She immediately tried to spit it
out. Once again, she received a backhand across the cheek
for he trouble. Then the colonel took out a roll of tape
from a US army first-aid kit and wrapped it around her
She could make as much noise as she wanted,
but only a muffled sound would come out. It didn't matter
anyway. There was nobody around to hear anything but the
ARVN soldiers and us. And the soldiers outside weren't
going to say boo, no matter what sounds came from within.
The colonel looked at her in appraisal and began to rub
his crotch with one hand. "Before she dies, I have some
personal business to prosecute," he said seriously.
And before I knew it, Colonel Ng had his pants open and
his cock out. He was quite well endowed for a small man.
He pressed himself up against the prisoner and rubbed his
thick erection against her pussy. She shook her head
wildly as he pressed himself into her.
"She is tight," he said. "So very tight for a woman of her
We watched as the colonel rode her there standing up
against the pole. It didn't take long for him to cum in
her. I made a silent bet that this wasn't his first rape.
"Who would like to fuck her?" he said, grinning. "Please,
Sergeant Burkette wanted to. I could see it in his face.
But he didn't. Delivering the prisoner for execution was a
matter of orders, and watching the execution was not
prohibited, but having sex with her was not an order.
"No thank you, colonel," Burkette said. But he would have
done it if we weren't there, I'm certain of that. I'm
ashamed to say it but I had the urge to fuck her, and the
only reason I didn't was because Burkette refused.
"Very well," the colonel said. "That is your choice."
The prisoner still had the belt wrapped around her neck. I
thought the colonel would hang her with that, but he had a
more classic idea of hanging a prisoner. He removed the
belt and reached into a duffel bag for something to
blindfold her with. He came up with a piece of black
The woman squirmed and moaned under her gag as he
covered her eyes. I don't know if she had figured what was
up, but she knew she was deep trouble. She didn't cry or
sob though. She was tough and she hated us all, American
and ARVN alike. Given a chance, she would have slit all
our throats with pleasure. She also was a person who liked
to kill. She understood death and it was her ally.
Once again, the colonel reached into his duffel bag. This
time he took out a long piece of rope. He had come
prepared. She couldn't see a thing as colonel Ng tied a
hangman's noose in one end of the rope.
"That's much better than a belt," the colonel said,
admiring his handiwork.
It was a perfect noose.
"You know that knot well," I observed. "Done this before?"
"Many times," the colonel replied. "It is my job."
He wasn't kidding. He was a professional executioner who
took rare delight in his work.
Since there was no ceiling in the room, the colonel easily
tossed the noose over one of the roof joists and situated
a wooden bench beneath it. He tied off the other end of
the rope on one of the upright posts and he was ready.
I hadn't fucked the prisoner, but just looking at the
noose dangling there in the center of the room, and seeing
her there naked and bound, had me hard as a rock.
"Now we are ready," Colonel Ng announced. "You may assist
me," he intoned.
Once again, it was an order not a request. "Bring the
prisoner to the gallows."
Sergeant Burkette and Whitmire untied the woman from the
post and walked her to the bench, holding her arms--which
were still tied securely behind her back.
She resisted, but they had her firmly in hand. The colonel
reached out and grabbed her nipples in his hands, making
her cry out beneath her gag. He pulled her forward by her
tits as Whitmire and Sergeant Burkette forced her up onto
the bench where she stood squirming.
I think she was
beginning to get the picture now. There was no question
about it when Colonel Ng slipped the noose over her head
and pulled it tight around her neck. She started jerking
around and screaming with rage into her gag when he did
that, but there was really nowhere she could go.
Colonel Ng untied the other end of the rope and pulled
tightly to take up the slack. He pulled so tight that he
forced her up onto the balls of her feet. All that
remained now was to kick the bench out from under her to
"I think she should see this," the colonel said. And so
saying, he removed her blindfold. "Shall I remove her
No one said anything. We just stood there looking at her.
I remember exactly how she looked, naked, her firm little
tits standing out proudly. Her nipples were fully erect. I
had a momentary urge to suck on those hard nipples, but I
didn't of course. Her hands, still tied behind her back,
twisted and writhed, in a desperate attempt to escape
their bonds, but Burkette had bound her wrists like a boy
scout and there was no way she could get loose.
I distinctly recall how long her neck looked with the
noose stretching it so high, and how the muscles on both
sides of her throat flexed as she twisted her head
Colonel Ng had placed the noose on the side of
her head just behind her ear, and it was pulled so tightly
that it made her head tilt slightly. Her neck and her
chest were glistening with sweat. She swallowed each
breath with a deep gulp which made her chest heave up and
down. But she had to breath through her nostrils because
of the gag.
"Yes sir. Take the gag off," I blurted out suddenly,
"Be my guest," the colonel said.
I stepped up to her and removed the tape from around her
mouth. She spit the ball of cloth out of her mouth without
any further help, and opened her throat to take in a rough
sounding gulp of air, knowing that if it wasn't her last
one it was damned close to it. I listened to her
breathing. It sounded like it had, back when we surprised
her with a cock inside her cunt and a belt around her
throat. She liked being strangled and fucked.
already choking a little, a preview of what was soon to
come. She stared at me with her mouth still wide open in
an O and I stared back, strangely fascinated. After a few
seconds she averted her gaze. I think she had accepted her
death at that moment and just wanted to get it over with.
That's when I backed away.
Colonel Ng went to her and stood directly in front of her.
"It's time," he said to her. "I want to see you dance for
me." Then, without any more ceremony, he kicked over the
I was stunned, but I just could not look away. She started
running on thin air. That caused her to swing around
wildly. Her whole body jerked and pumped, exactly like she
was fucking. I realized that we'd interrupted her fuck
session before she had reached an orgasm.
It looked like
she was having that orgasm now, dangling by her neck for
the enjoyment of enemy soldiers whom she hated so much.
Her bladder opened up and a thin stream of urine trickled
down her legs. Her eyes were wide with panic and her mouth
worked wordlessly like a fish out of water gasping its
The rope bit tightly into the smooth skin of her neck, and
her tongue bulged out luridly. She swung and kicked and my
cock throbbed like it never had before. She kicked
desperately, seeking the foothold that was not there for
her. After several minutes of hanging by her neck, her
face turned a nasty purple color.
Her legs moved on automatic, still pumping her crotch back
and forth like it was filled with the biggest, hardest
penis she'd ever been impaled on. She dangled and twisted
at the rope's end for what seemed a terribly long time,
although it couldn't have been much more than four minutes
before it was over.
I swear she came just before she
stopped moving, her body bending in the middle and
convulsing with a strong orgasm. I'm not saying she
enjoyed it, but she died cumming. Finally, she lost
consciousness and hung still, her feet pointing straight
down. Her bladder was empty now, but droplets of juice
from her sopping wet vagina spattered onto the puddle
We stood and watched her swing gently for another five
minutes or so. By that time there was no chance she was
still alive. When we left, she was still hanging, turning
slowly from side to side. Colonel Ng dismissed us,
repeating that we had done an excellent job and that he
would recommend us for medals to our commanding officer. A
medal was something I had no use for whatever.
Nobody said anything on the hike back to base.
We saw no enemy soldiers. We saw nobody at all the entire
return trip. And we never spoke about what we had seen and
even participated in. But I thought about how public
executions had been performed for all but a brief period
in human history. They're still done in some countries.
And people had loved them.
Hangings in particular were
well attended, like baseball games. It was prime
entertainment for many people and it was not looked upon
as a bad thing. I only felt strange about it because of my
veneer of civilization. But under that thin covering I was
no different from anyone in the crowd at countless
I had joined the army to kill the enemy and I did shoot at
a lot of people. I'm certain I killed some that I didn't
see during firefights. And once I even shot an enemy
officer with a high-powered rifle at long range. I never
questioned the need to execute enemy agents, but this
execution was somehow different. It was not, strictly
speaking, an act of war.
I suspected that colonel Ng would
be hunted down as a war criminal if the North Vietnamese
prevailed. War had allowed his peculiar fantasies to
become reality. He had been given a pass to indulge his
most base desires, and he had embraced the opportunity.
The war had made him insane and it had done the same to
us, although to a much lesser degree.
I know that the war itself was insane and that we were
caught up in that madness, having been in the jungle for
so long, fearing for our lives every minute. Many of my
closest buddies died in Vietnam. I sometimes think I was
meant to die there too, but that woman died instead.
What we saw that night has lost much of it's reality to
me. It's as though I watched a play a long, long time ago.
It's a different world where I live now. And although I
lead a fairly dull life--what we think of as "normal" in
America--I'm not really that same as I was before. Still,
I keep coming back to the image of that woman, standing on
the bench with the noose around her neck. And I ask myself
what is normal?
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