My name is Do Van Ngoc, I am nine years old, from the village of Vinh Tuy, hamlet of Vinh Minh, district of Quang Binh, province of Quang Binh [North Vietnam]. I am the son of Mr Do Oj and Mrs Ha Thi Giee; both my parents are rice-growers.
     On the afternoon of 16 June 1966, I was looking after the oxen with my two friends, named Ha Khec and Do Van Giau, when three American planes appeared from over the sea and dropped bombs on the place where we were. The bombs exploded and the flames reached the bodies of all three of us, causing us very serious burns. Since we could no longer bear the heat, we jumped into a flooded rice field; then the flames were put out and the heat lessened, but when we emerged from the water the flames broke out again on our bodies.
     We asked for help. Then we were sent to a hospital for medical treatment. Then I felt a tremendous pain. Now the burns are scarred, but I still have itching and burning sensations. On my right hand, the thumb is stuck to the other fingers; large scars remain on my stomach and my thighs.
     That day the American bombs still set fire to the homes of our family and our neighbours. To my knowledge, apart from the three of us, Mr Du's family, while having their meal, lost six of its eight members, burned by bombs. {143}

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