This story came to me anonymously via e-mail, the author, a fellow Vietnam Veteran. After reading his story, I felt compelled to share this with you on my blog. If you didn’t participate in the Vietnam war, this will give you some insight into how our minds work. He writes:
A couple of years ago someone asked me if I still thought about Vietnam. I nearly laughed in their face. How do you stop thinking about it? Every day for the past forty years, I wake up with it – I go to bed with it. This was my response:
“Yeah, I think about it. I can’t stop thinking about it. I never will. But, I’ve also learned to live with it. I’m comfortable with the memories. I’ve learned to stop trying to forget and learned instead to embrace it. It just doesn’t scare me anymore.”
A lot of my “brothers” haven’t been so lucky. For them the memories are too painful, their sense of loss too great. My sister told me of a friend she has whose husband was in the Nam. She asks this guy when he was there.
Here’s what he said, “Just last night.” It took my sister a while to figure out what he was talking about. JUST LAST NIGHT. Yeah, I was in the Nam. When? Just last night, before I went to sleep, on my way to work this morning, and over my lunch hour. Yeah, I was there.
My sister says I’m not the same brother who went to Vietnam. My wife says I won’t let people get close to me, not even her. They are probably both right. Ask a vet about making friends in Nam. It was risky. Why? Because we were in the business of death, and death was with us all the time. It wasn’t the death of, “If I die before I wake.” This was the real thing. The kind where boys scream for their mothers. The kind that lingers in your mind and becomes more real each time you cheat it. You don’t want to make a lot of friends when the possibility of dying is that real, that close. When you do, friends become a liability.
A guy named Bob Flanigan was my friend. Bob Flanigan is dead. I put him in a body bag one sunny day, April 29, 1969. We’d been talking, only a few minutes before he was shot, about what we were going to do when we got back to the world. Now, this was a guy who had come in country the same time as me. A guy who was loveable and generous. He had blue eyes and sandy blond hair.
When he talked, it was with a soft drawl. I loved this guy like the brother I never had. But, I screwed up. I got too close to him. I broke one of the unwritten rules of war. DON’T GET CLOSE TO PEOPLE WHO ARE GOING TO DIE. You hear vets use the term “buddy” when they refer to a guy they spent the war with. “Me and this buddy a mine.”
Friend sounds too intimate, doesn’t it? “Friend” calls up images of being close. If he’s a friend, then you are going to be hurt if he dies, and war hurts enough without adding to the pain. Get close; get hurt. It’s as simple as that. In war you learn to keep people at that distance my wife talks about. You become so good at it, that forty years after the war, you still do it without thinking. You won’t allow yourself to be vulnerable again.
My wife knows two people who can get into the soft spots inside me – my daughters. I know it bothers her that they can do this. It’s not that I don’t love my wife. I do. She’s put up with a lot from me. She’ll tell you that when she signed on for better or worse, she had no idea there was going to be so much of the latter. But with my daughters it’s different.
My girls are mine. They’ll always be my kids. Not marriage, not distance, not even death can change that. They are something on this earth that can never be taken away from me. I belong to them. Nothing can change that. I can have an ex-wife; but my girls can never have an ex-father. There’s the difference. I can still see the faces, though they all seem to have the same eyes. When I think of us, I always see a line of “dirty grunts” sitting on a paddy dike. We’re caught in the first gray silver between darkness and light. That first moment when we know we’ve survived another night, and the business of staying alive for one more day is about to begin. There was so much hope in that brief space of time. It’s what we used to pray for. “One more day, God. One more day.”
And I can hear our conversations as if they’d only just been spoken I still hear the way we sounded. The hard cynical jokes, our morbid senses of humor. We were scared to death of dying, and tried our best not to show it.
I recall the smells, too. Like the way cordite hangs on the air after a fire-fight. Or the pungent odor of rice paddy mud. So different from the black dirt of Iowa. The mud of Nam smells ancient, somehow. Like it’s always been there. And I’ll never forget the way blood smells, sticky and drying on my hands. I spent a long night that way once. That memory isn’t going anywhere.
I remember how the night jungle appears almost dreamlike as the pilot of a Cessna buzzes overhead, dropping parachute flares until morning. That artificial sun would flicker and make shadows run through the jungle. It was worse than not being able to see what was out there sometimes. I remember once looking at the man next to me as a flare floated overhead. The shadows around his eyes were so deep that it looked like his eyes were gone. I reached over and touched him on the arm; without looking at me he touched my
hand. “I know man. I know.” That’s what he said. It was a human moment. Two guys a long way from home and scared to death.
God, I loved those guys. I hurt every time one of them died. We all did. Despite our posturing. Despite our desire to stay disconnected, we couldn’t help ourselves. I know why Tim O’Brien writes his stories. I know what gives Bruce Weigle the words to create poems so honest I cry at their horrible beauty. It’s love. Love for those guys we shared the experience with.
We did our jobs like good soldiers, and we tried our best not to become as hard as our surroundings. You want to know what is frightening. It’s a nineteen-year-old-boy who’s had a sip of that power over life and death that war gives you. It’s a boy who, despite all the things he’s been taught, knows that he likes it. It’s a nineteen-year-old who’s just lost a friend, and is angry and scared and, determined that, “some *@#*s gonna pay”. To this day, the thought of that boy can wake me from a sound sleep and leave me staring at the ceiling.
As I write this, I have a picture in front of me. It’s of two young men. On their laps are tablets. One is smoking a cigarette. Both stare without expression at the camera. They’re writing letters. Staying in touch with places they would rather be. Places and people they hope to see again. The picture shares space in a frame with one of my wife. She doesn’t mind. She knows she’s been included in special company. She knows I’ll always love those guys who shared that part of my life, a part she never can. And she understands how I feel about the ones I know are out there yet. The ones who still answer the question, “When were you in Vietnam?”
“Hey, man. I was there just last night.”
So was I. How about the rest of you vets – hits home doesn’t it! Please leave a comment below and then tweet, Digg, etc. this article to others so they may understand why many of today’s veteran’s behave the way they do – be it Vietnam or other conflicts, this is a common thread shared by all.
Thank you for taking the time to read this. Should you have a question or comment about this article, then scroll down to the comment section below to leave your response.
If you want to learn more about the Vietnam War and its Warriors, then subscribe to this blog and get notified by email or your feed reader every time a new story, picture, video or changes occur on this website – the button is located at the top right of this page.
I’ve also created a poll to help identify my website audience – before leaving, can you please click HERE and choose the one item best describing you. Thank you in advance!
I have a freind who I fly fish with. During the night he often wakes with a start and sits right up in bed, sweat pouring off his face, even in winter. Usually I can see him in the darkened shadows of the tent carefully looking around, his eyes squinting in the dark, till he realizes just where he actually is. The first time this happened years ago, I asked him in the dark what was wrong. He just answered, ‘Nothing man. Not a damn thing. Just back in the Nam for a bit.’ NOw when this happens I just usually tell him quietly in the dark of the tent, ‘Welcome home pard.’ Most times when he wakes this way sleep is an elusive ghost for the rest of the night. Often, we just rise and sit by the fire then, sharing the quiet of the night and each others company. Those ghosts of buddies lost will be with him forever also. Like many he’s learned to welcome their presence and weather the storm of memories. Like so many he’ll never fully return from the Nam.
LikeLike
So powerful and eye opening. Thank you for sharing this.
LikeLike
A friend sent this page to me,,I’m glad I read it..I was just thinking of my Brother inn law,,DANNY K I A 7-22-70.he was a chopper pilot,, I was also thinking of some others,, NAM is a part of my life,,not a day goes by some thing comes to mind and I go back.. some times I ask myself why did I make it back?? I will never forget any of my fallen Brothers..
LikeLike
Welcome Home Brother !!!
LikeLike
Nam will ALWAYS be a part of my life…every day and every night! Welcome Home!
LikeLike
“Welcome Home and Thank You for keeping us safe! Theare are so many unspoken heros we can be greatful for but thanks for putting it into words!
LikeLike
Reading this is almost to much to bear. My father had two tours to Vietnam….Bearcat Camp the first time and Da Nang the second time. We lost him there – if not physically, then mentally – he was never the same after the second tour. I just wrote about him on my site: http://www.curbowfamily.wordpress.com. Thank you for posting this story – it is powerful and hurtful and healing all at the same time.
Judy
LikeLike
Judy, thank you for posting on my blog. I did visit your blog site and read about your father, and how difficult it was for the family while waiting at home for his return. That is a side of war that is seldom talked about among veterans, as it was something we tried not to think about. However, after reading your blog, I have a hint about life on this side of the ocean. I would welcome your posting an article about this on my blog, I’m certain many of the vets visiting would enjoy reading it. If there is an interest, please contact me via email. / John
LikeLike
I don’t remember if I put clean undies on this morning, but I do recall almost every mission that I flew as a Huey crew chief…and I remember them in great detail. For years, I kept thinking these memories would go away a little at a time. They are still there in lining color and just as scarey. I finally decided to write a book about all these experiences. In order to write, I had to lay everything out just as it happened. I shed a lot of tears in the process, but it did help me understand myself a little better, especially when I am at the bottom of the hill, knowing I have to climb it again in order to feel well again. Overcoming PTSD takes not only a lot of time, but the big requirement is to open ourselves up to your spouse, children, a good friend or the Vet Centers or VA. Help is out there, but YOU are the one that has to decide to seek it. It also takes a lot of prayer. God can heal and pick us up when we fall flat on our face. I now believe the memories won’t go away, but I have learned to live with them better. This will be a whole new journey…Best of luck and God Bless you. Welcome home…and thank you for your sacrifices.
missionsoffireandmercy.com
LikeLike
Thank you Bill for leaving this note on my blog. I agree with your comments 100% about opening yourself up to others in order to help through this journey in life. Both of us wrote books about our tours in Vietnam, it was not only an outpouring of emotions, but therapy as well. Welcome Home Brother! Let me know if I can help you with anything.
LikeLike
The Viet Nam war put such a crack in me because of the impossibility of finding an untainted response to the war.
From the tunnels of Cu Chi to the land of Cambodia, the deepest fissures are still within me.
If there is a peace that passeth all understanding, the Viet Nam war may be the war that passeth all understanding.
Jim Riley
25th ID 1968/1969
LikeLike
Vietnam was the culmination of a two-year nightmare for me. I fought NOT to go after I was drafted. Had ‘friends’ from my hometown who were there before me. One of my earliest childhood neighbors died there, several others were wounded, and didn`t want to talk about the war. So, when the army got me, I decided to go to all the military schools I could, in the States, in the hopes the war would end and I wouldn`t end up like my friends who had served. Honestly, I knew NOTHING about being in the military when I was drafted….never camped out….never fired a weapon. Eventually, I became a shake-and-bake graduate….went to Nam….was a platoon sergeant….humped the jungle for over ten months. Yeah, I became battle-hardened and battle-weary, but I was with my brothers, and we had to take care of each other. I felt my true mission in the war was to get all the men in my platoon home to their families, and losing some of them in combat was hard on me….still is. But, it was when I came home that I was truly confused and angry….protestors yelling and spitting in our direction as we walked through the airport….divorcing my newlywed wife, as we had grown apart….not wanting to tell anyone I was a Vietnam veteran for two years. I recently got the nerve to write and publish a book about my military experiences entitled The Storyteller: Live for Today and Look Toward the Future I used that title because that was what an old soldier told me when I got so upset with the protestors in the airport, and, sadly, those words were also the ONLY effort I remember, by the army, or anyone else, to acclimate me back to civilian life from being a jungle combat soldier. A few soldiers, who have gotten the book through the internet, have told me my stories brought back lots of memories for them….both bad and good. The changes I went through, in my two years in the army, were dramatic. And writing a book about what I endured was cathartic to me. We ALL need a way to cope with the memories of pain and suffering. Finishing my book has gone a long way to help put me at peace now, but I could never forget the turmoil and strife that Vietnam brought into my life….NEVER!
LikeLike
Hello Mr. Schapira!
Today I ordered your book, and I am certainly looking forward to it. I was a student of yours in 1980, and I came across the information of your book from a school FB page. Although it was 34 years ago that I sat as a student in your class, I will never forget the stories that you shared with us. Since we were only 8th graders, the moments you shared were the G rated and funny ones, and the ones that didn’t cut too far into your core. Still as a 14 year old, I would watch you as you recanted these, and I could see the pain, and sometimes it seemed like you were far away. I remember a few tears that were shed when you didn’t think anyone was watching. I hope that sharing some of these memories with us was cathartic Mr. Schapira. and I’m so sorry what you went through upon your return. I don’t know if it means anything to you now, but I have always considered you a hero, and EVERY time I think of the Vietnam War, I can honestly say, I think of you. You have always been the person, and the face that has made all of the stories that I have heard over the years a reality. I have also thought of you so many times in the recent years since we have been at war, and lost so many lives. You affected my life and many others with your strength to share. Thank You! – Rhonda Jenkins (Rhonda Iles)
LikeLike
Hi, Rhonda,
I absolutely remember you, and your brother Robert, too. I have you clearly pictured in my mind right now. I thank you so very much for your wonderful comments, and am very happy that I had a positive effect on you while you were in 8th grade. I remember you having a cheery personality, and a happy outlook on everything around you. You were one of the good ones. Thanks for purchasing my book. I feel honored.
By the way, Mr. Hart and I just returned from a trip to Las Vegas, where we had a rendevous with Mr Smith. (p.e. teacher at Clarendon) Hart and I like to reminisce about our former students, and I will let him know you made contact with you.
Thanks again, Rhonda, I really appreciate your kind words AND your buying of my book.
David
LikeLike
Thank you for writing down your thoughts about this article on my blog. I fully agree with your comments that our priority there was to protect one another during the war. It hurt when you lost someone and then survivor’s guilt plagued a person afterwards. Welcome Home Brother and God Bless! I will check out your book…
LikeLike
Thank-you for passing this on to me. I appreciate it, and I want to welcome you home, too. David
LikeLike
Every part of that story hits home. Every day,night and hour Vietnam comes back too me. At night can be the worst. Love? I am not sure I can let me Love someone. Sure I love my Wife my Son’s and Grand kids, But is it really love. I can about the deeply and would not evey want to be with out them but some where or some time Love ends and you don’t want it too. Does this make sense
LikeLike
I wanted to forget though I was the only survivor in my point squad, No one else knew what really happened that day. If I forgot, no one would ever know. I walked point for another eight months as penance. I tried denying that it bothered me for thirty years. I held onto my job but close relationships and positive emotions were impossible.
I’m sick and tired of feeling helpless and a victom of the reality I never knew existed; where life is not fair, justice goes AWAL, and good is overshadowed by evil. It wasn’t right but it seemed I couldn’t change it and make life after Vietnam the way I desperately wanted it to be. Why couldn’t I just go back to lthe way life was before? I didn’t want to be changed by the war. No one warned me, I didn’t ask for this!
I don’t fit in with “normal” people; they don’t think about the thiings I do. Small talk seems so empty and trivial next to the horror and adrenaline overload of that other life which doesn’t go away.
God help me. I can’t do this by myself. “That’s right, you’ve tried it your way all these years, now, you want to try it my way?” I swear, fifteen years ago I heard that small voice, just like people say God can speak to them. If you’re curious what happened next, look for the book titled “Not Enough Tears” at Amazon books or ebooks.
LikeLike
every day
LikeLike
Every day. It does not stop
LikeLike
After retiring I found myself looking back on some of my life experiences. One of the most profound memories and opportunities to grow was at the 24th Evac Hospital. I started to dig through all my old stuff and found many old pictures of those days. I am not sure anyone would like a copy of them but I do have them.
I served as the only US Army Medical Equipment Serviceman (MOS-35G BioMed) from July 70 to July 71. My job was to service and repair all diagnostic and therapeutic equipment that the Hospital (24th Evac) and it’s attach facilities. I served under and with the Medical Supply Department along with the Motor Pool personnel. My Shop was located behind the Mess Hall in the Medical Supply building next to the Motor Pool and the Laundry building.
My stories and recollection of my time in Viet Nam and at the 24th Evac has help define who I am to this date. It was an experience that I will never forget…..
• I remember the relationships that were formed, and the Christmas and Holidays shared.
• I remember the beer cans and rocks that was tossed at the guy showing the movies at the pavilion… I know that because I was that guy! I was the Hospital Projectionist and I showed movies at the pavilion and at times the Officer Club. I could cut and splice film with the best. Also I was the guy that showed the Movie “MASH” when it first came out to the Hospital.
• I remember my rounds throughout the Hospital…OR, CS, ER…and all the Patient Wards collecting broken equipment and doing service visits.
• I remember going to a locale orphanage to repair their only X-ray unit and the beers shared in appreciation.
• I remember seeing the X-ray films on the viewing box of a rocket logged inside a person body and the stories that was told about the gallant people and the procedures to remove it.
• I remember helping and holding wounded into X-ray and interacting with an E6 (I believe he was the NCOIC of the X-ray Department) that had no hair on his arms because he would continually help and hold the wounded while being X-rayed without protective aprons or gloves. He was one that impressed me to this day. He put those guys first…..
• I remember the frequent (Duce and Half) truck trips to the Supply Depot for equipment service parts and the Hospitals oxygen bottle supply.
• I remember Bob Hope and his visit to Long Binh and how excited people were.
• I remember my phone calls home. I was a newly married E-4 with a wife and new born baby girl. I remember the words (I love you…Over… I love you too… Over..) Man we have come a-long ways.
I could go on and like you.. the stories we could tell…but I won’t.. I ended my Military service in 1975…. coming home after my deployment to Guam under the mission called Operation New Life. The mission was to help transition the Vietnamese Refugees at the fall of Saigon.
Thank you all for your service and being part of something that is so much bigger…
Sincerely
Bill Miller
LikeLiked by 1 person
Bill, thank you for your thoughts and sharing with others who read this article. Welcome Home!
LikeLike
I served in Nam 67-68. Often watch The History Channel, including shows of Vietnam. One of my most vivid memories is the day I left. For weeks I didn’t feel as I thought I would, knowing I was finally going home. On my last day, it dawned on me what had been bothering me those last few days: It’s so hard to say good-bye. I knew I’d never again forge a bond with a group of guys like I had in Vietnam. Think of them daily.
LikeLike
Yes I do! At least once a day maybe more. I was in the 1st Air Cav. 68-69 infantry lived out in the jungle 25 to 27 days a month. We walked about 10 kilometers a day sleeping on the ground. Always got into a firefight. Oh yeah, I think about it..
LikeLike
The first thing I recalled staring to read this article was the night I arrived at the 11ARC Replacement center on my third trip to Vietnam and all of a sudden boom boom boom. Was told don’t worry that is our 122mm cannons firing. That shit was so loud that it lifted me right out of bed a few times for a few days. After that it came to a halt. They found out that I was improperly assigned to them and then they sent me to my proper area Aviation, what the hell the 25th Inf was not all that bad in the Aviation sector of Cui Chi and all the tunnels.
LikeLike
I came across this again today and felt it’s impact upon me once more. Some of the truest, most eloquent words ever written. It’s been forty six years since that place that stays with me every day of my life. Just yesterday. Yes, just yesterday.
Welcome home, Brothers.
LikeLike
I was in Vietnam in the Central Highlands with C Trp 3rd Sqd 4th US Cav. 3/25 Sept66-67. About the only thing different about this story is I do not have two Daughters. The memories are still the same.
LikeLike
Most of our WWII vets are gone and now our Vietnam vets are leaving us, too. Youth of today need to know about our veterans and, especially, about our Vietnam vets before they are gone, too. A Vietnam vet friend of mine has written a book about being drafted and serving in Vietnam. The book is “The Storyteller: Live for Today and Look to the Future” by David L. Schapira. Next week he will be doing an interview for the Veterans History Project. Stories by our vets are being collected by the Library of Congress for posterity and research by others. We must not let Vietnam be a forgotten war. Over 58,000 young and old soldiers lost there lives. They chose to serve. Thank you to all have served! God bless.
LikeLike
The Vietnam war is our war my Brothers…we all go there several times a day. We won that war but the politicians gave it back to the VC and NVA warriors. I have the upmost respect and admiration for these fighters. But we must hold our heads high and tell the young people coming up today to not forget this war we fought or any of the wars for that matter. Time to go back….rest easy tonight my Brothers…………….
LikeLike
Yes
LikeLike
WOW. I’ve read your stories before, always heart shaking. Thank you for what you’ve done and for what you’re doing now.
LikeLike
An outstanding story. I believe that everyone that stepped foot “In Country” has a story. Something will always come to mind. Some will be much more serious and mind bending than others. IMHO natural fear of losing ones life in a far away place was shared by everyone.
LikeLike