Photograph" Chu Lai © January 1967

I have just finished reading your "Memoirs" article (last page) in the summer issue of Khe-Sanh Veteran magazine. In your article you mentioned ‘our’ “City of Refuge” and how sacred places can't ever be destroyed. How absolutely correct you are.

The ancient Hawaiians called it “Pu'u Honua O'Honaunau", or "City of Refuge". This "City of Refuge" a small village, lies on the leeward side of the Big Island of Hawaii along the South side of a small bite in the coast line; a small bay. It is just two miles from Kealakekua Bay where British explorer Captain James Cook's monument or obelisk resides. It is near the spot where he was killed in a pitched battle between his crew and the Hawaiians.

These days the "City of Refuge" is under the care, protection and management of the United States Park Service.

If you go there you can stand on a quiet beach. Water laps gently around your feet in the soft wet sand. All around you are giant, towering coconut palms that provide shade from the tropical heat of the day. Nearby are the remains an ancient rock wall demarcating the "City of Refuge". The rock wall is approximately twelve feet high, four feet thick, spanning a hundred yards or so. It also serves to demarcate the King's favorite lagoon and brackish fish pond; called the “King’s Pond” from the ‘Place’ of isolation beyond.


Within the walled area are large thatch huts built on stilts. The stilted structures rest upon lava rock pyramids where the Kahunas (Hawaiian holy men) buried their dead in “Hieau’s”. Nothing is more sacred to the “O'hana” (family or people at large) than their Hieau's.

I stood there alone, looking across the lagoon, then traced the path inside the "Refuge" past towering Tiki's facing the island, standing guard, a post they have continued to stand for centuries. In my mind I see the long Koa canoes off-shore. A man, condemened to death dives over the side of the canoe into the water, swimming hard and fast for the shore; the "City of Refuge", safety if he's lucky and fast.


His captors (the canoe paddlers) give him a headstart then dive in after him, giving chase. Each warrior carries a club embedded with the razor sharp teeth of the ‘Tiger Shark’, or “Mano Pa'ele”. If they can catch the condemned man they will beat him to death with the shark tooth studded war clubs. The warrior then suffers ignominious defeat and dies in the shallow waters just off shore, just out of the reach of life long sanctuary.

In ancient Hawaiian times there were no minor crimes, (misdemeanors), only capital crimes. All crimes, large and small, insignificant or otherwise were all punishable by death. This was the law of the land. The King's law. Sometimes the King would allow the condemned man to attempt to make his way to the "City of Refuge" before being caught and killed.

If he made it, he was allowed to live. If for any reason whatsoever he left the confines of the refuge he was subject to immediate execution. Only a pardon from the King would allow the warrior to return to society; these pardons were rare.

Centuries ago some condemned warrior had made it to shore safely. A few yards from where I stood lay a large flat slab of ‘Pahoehoe’ (A ropey undulating form of lava) rubbed smooth by centuries of tidal forces. On the face of the slab is the carved likeness of the lucky warrior who cheated death; he ran the gauntlet and survived.

Inscribed for all eternity on the slab is his petroglyph. The ‘stick-man’ image of the warrior; arms raised in victroy, feet spead, waving his weapon over his head in defiance toward his enemies. He had survived against all odds. He is savoring his victory against the challenge to live or die by his own perseverance and determination to live even though life for him would be a life of isolation.

The pain of this isolation would not be found in his seperation from society; but from his fellow warriors. He had stepped forward to serve his King and fight against the king’s enemies.

Now he no longer held the king’s favor or the right to maintain contact with fellow warriors; his brotherhood...his chosen way of life.

I often come here. I think of ‘us’, the Marines (even though I was just a lowly "Doc"). I have never thought of myself as Navy. Hell Ernie! I'm not even a "Khe-Sanh" brother. I was one of those independent guys running amok in the jungles further south...you know the story.

So, at the risk of sounding like some wigged out "I-Ching" philosopher, ‘we’ (the Marines) find ourselves, twenty-seven years later, standing in our "Cities of Refuge". For me it is isolation. The isolation of the mountain, the great shield volcano Mauna Loa. Mauna Loa is the home of Madame Pele, whose compassion for the "Aina" (land) is absolute; whose compassion for puny mankind is not so resolute. She periodically cleans house by fire and covers all traces of human existence as though we were never there...like small flea infestations on the geologic back of time.

Like those ancient warriors struggling for life, attempting to reach the "refuge", we find ourselves repeating this history, as we are all compelled to do. Someday, or maybe never, the Royal Decree may be handed down to 'us' ( The Marines).

This decree may pardon us for our sins and allow us to re-enter society, although I doubt it. Our crime was that we went to war, as we were trained to do. The very act of survival was and is the damning evidence against us. We were not allowed that return back to society. We were, however, allowed to run for the a 'City of Refuge'. We all found our "Pu'u Honua O'Honaunau’s". If we made it, we were allowed to live, if not we perished.

Times have changed. We can no longer hope and pray for the King's benevolence or the King's unilateral decision to set us free. It is not forthcoming. We have no Kings anymore. We can not count on the United States Government. Who Can? It is a foregone conclusion that a collective consenus from society will not be handed down to us, absolving our sins, setting us collectively free.

Those of us who have sought our "Place of Refuge" have, in one manner or another carved our petroglyphs of definance into our art, our statues, our bodies, our journals...our state and federal prison walls.

I have lived in Hawaii now, well over 28 years. Out here, in these ancient Hawaiian islands, I have assimilated the culture. It is more a part of me than my childhood midwest. I understand the "City of Refuge". As you have requested Captain Spencer I have gone there and spoken to the Kahuna’s on behalf of the Khe-Sanh brothers and the other warriors who fought and died a quarter century ago. They are all there. However their petroglyphs, their images of victory and defiance, just happen to be on a large black granite wall in Washington, D.C., therein lies the only difference.

Semper Fi!
R. ‘Doc’ Ferrell
RVN 1966 to 1967 U.S.M.C. (FMF)
(Ka'u Hawaii)