|The Memorial| |NYC Parade| |The never ending story | Rivers Edge Graphics |
Oh Vietnam, what else can you take from me. You have my mind and my body, but you will never get my soul. That belongs to my wife, my family, and me. Your blood riddled soil has stolen many a poor boy, from life, living, and the pursuit of happiness; however, you have not won the war, your are still a Prisoner of War, you are not FREE, but I AM. It has taken most of my life to figure out the equation to deal with your wrath, but I have a handle on it now and would like to share my successes with what is left of the Vietnam veteran society.
The words of a famous President, "Ask not, what your country can do for YOU, Ask what YOU can do for your country." Those words more than any other words that come to mind, made us, the Vietnam veteran, proud of what we did and who we are today. The journey home has taken almost 30 years of denial, guilt, therapy plus medication, and the finial acceptance of who I am; a husband, father, and a human being. The first years were all denial. People always asked my how I got hurt, my response was, "oh, I got hurt playing tennis." Then I would order another round for the bar, and go home blotto every night. Years went by, drowning in a bottle of booze that would take away the pain, (I thought). All the booze did was cover up the scars of a war that made sense when you were there, but made no sense when upon return to the States you were scorned by the very people you thought you were there to protect from the spread of communism.
It was American patriotism that our generation believed in; our fathers fought WWII and freed the world from the dark forces that threatened our very existence. My father fought in WWII and Korea. He turned to the bottle to cover up his PTSD, and thank God he got sober 10 months before his death at the age of 46. The Vietnam veteran fought, won, and lost because of political decisions that were made by the politicians during this time period. In Tet 68 we had the North Vietnamese Army beaten into a thread of existence. We could have walked into Hanoi and raised the United Nations Flag on top of their capitol building, but the politicians said NO. I realize the politicians were under fire from the citizens in their respective districts, but it was no excuse to turn their backs on the very men who had just defeated the North Vietnamese Army. From that point on it was all down hill; the pressure by the American people to end the war was a better political choice, and the withdrawal of American and Allied troops began.
In retrospect; Vietnam was an internal civil war, much like our own civil war. The American Civil War was about white men having ownership of black people who were kidnapped from their own country against their own will and forced into slavery. North Vietnam was a communist country fighting against a corrupt but free South Vietnamese government. In 1967 some of the American soldiers joked that the reason we were in Vietnam was to protect the Coca-Cola bottling plant in Saigon. Is it right to become involved in another countries civil war? My conclusion after 30 years of mental turmoil, if you send one American or Allied boy to a foreign country to fight a battle, it must be only to fight to the death and WIN. The United Nations flag must be blowing in the wind over the defeated country. The price of freedom is very costly, but the price of being a free loser is even higher.
The road back has been a real hell, but it is a hell that for me was worth all the effort I endured. What is life without a purpose? It's an existence. The answers to finding ones purpose is an exhaustive search that lies deep within your soul.
In 1981, I was a musical instrument repairman. One day a parade went by my shop, I went out to see what it was all about, and to my amazement, it was a parade honoring some local Vietnam veterans. I couldn't believe it, I had never heard of such an event. It was the first parade given in the country to honor Vietnam veterans. The parade was put on the local American Legion and local county government officials. It was truly an uplifting experience.
My wife was watching television one night and called out, "come quick"; the vets that were in the parade had a telethon about a new vets group, The Organization of Vietnam veterans. Along with the telethon they were showing an interview with a Vietnam vet who had Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. We couldn't believe some of the symptoms the vet had were very similar to many of the problems I was experiencing. I called in and found out they were having a meeting at the local American Legion. The time came around for the meeting and I was really getting stressed out, but after about an hour of hearing some of the vets speak they asked if anyone would like to join. I happened to be the first new member to join (# 9), and from that point on my life began to change. I felt a bound of camaraderie that I hadn't felt since the war. I actually thought I was going crazy with some of the thoughts I was having, but most of the men in the organization were having some the same thoughts and I felt like I had finally found some answers. As I look back at it now, it was just the beginning of the long road home.
My high school senior picture, this was taken about the same time my class was graduating. It was a sign of the times, as you can tell by the look in my eyes. Many years have come and gone since The Nam, and many transformations have taken place in the rebirth of a civilized human being. I have to give a lot credit to the Organization of Vietnam veterans (OVV) for getting my healing process off the ground. As you will see in the end it was my wife of 23 years, and my children that stuck with through all the years of therapy and soul searching for answers.
OVV had purpose and a mission in the early 80's, The Wall, community awareness, and above all listening to what each other had to say and help each other through the years of stored up pain and anger. I was very fortunate to be in the first VA Outreach therapy program in our area, but first there was The Wall.
OVV represented The State of New York in the Welcome Home Parade in Washington D.C., the same weekend as the dedication of The Wall. The Wall stirred up memories that I had been hiding for years. When you look at The Wall you see a reflection of yourself in the highly polished Vermont granite. At first I was upset about the design, but once you visit The Wall a profound wave of emotions are released. For me it was the first time I was able to cry since the war; not even my father dying in my arms along a roadside brought a tear to my war hardened empty shell.
The dedication ceremony was somewhat moving but not as much as the two vets who traded holding the American Flag for 48 hours; because the congress at the time voted not to have an American Flag the site. I believe the rational behind their decision was since we did not win the war it would be a disgrace to fly Old Glory over the loser's memorial. I believe that decision gave me the strength too be proud of who I am and what I did.
While at the dedication I was in the front row of the handicapped section, General Westmoreland stopped and shook my hand. You could tell by the look in his eyes how sorry he was for not being given the chance to fight to the death; instead being branded as a man who was ordered not WIN.
