I Want To Talk About Community
Today is National VietNam Veterans Day馃嚭馃嚫. Today is THE day to Welcome US Home....Kinda late there ain't ya?
I am going to write this serious piece then I'm going back to being a sarcastic smart ass馃ぃ In 1965 I enlisted in the United States Marine Corps. I had no where else to go at that stage in my life. Anyway, I took my Basic Training at Parris Island, SC. Then went on to Advanced Infantry Training at Camp Geiger, North Carolina, then went on to EOD School(that's learning how to blow shit up for you dummies out there馃ぃ)Then thirty days leave then took that long plane ride down to SouthEast Asia, I stepped off that plane into a completely different world. Everything I had known before that minute in time was gone, disappeared like a wisp of smoke on the wind.
Anyway, My best friend, Fred Davis, from out of a small town in Kansas and I had the good fortune to be assigned to the same combat unit. Now, Fred was like me in a few respects. We were kids, just boys, we were like brothers in AIT and EOD School, where you saw one, you saw the other one. Get the picture here?...he had family, I didn't. Maybe that's what brought us together. We talked trash, got into minor bullshit scrapes together and we KNEW, beyond a shadow of a doubt that we were INVINCIBLE. That's what we bought into in Basic Training, AIT and EOD.
Long story short,two days later we received our unit assignments then into the jungle we went. One hour after we reported to our unit commander and stowing our gear we got hit by mortars and small arms fire. Fred had his guts blown out by shrapnel. I was right beside him, I was covered in his blood. That scared me, and even worse, it pissed me off. Sorry, I lied...it didn't just scare me, it terrified me. They bagged him up and sent him back to Kansas. A stone took the place of my heart. My squad leader mentioned to me in passing that I had gone off the deep end. I volunteered for every patrol, I volunteered for EVERY high risk operation, I volunteered for every little dirty job that needed to be done. I wanted pay back for Fred, I could never spill enough blood, I could never take enough lives. I could never inflict enough damage on the enemy. And I brought back high body counts and the numbers were all that mattered anyway. Three years, nine months, twenty two days and fifteen hours after I set foot for the first time in Viet Nam, Republic of, I came back to the world. The very first thing that happened to me was I had a hair head spit in my face, I re-arranged his face for him.
Things I heard...I heard a kid after a fire fight cry for his mother "momma please don't let me die" He did...I felt nothing. I heard a man curse God Almighty with his dying breath...THAT scared me...
Things I won't do today. I will NEVER sit with my back to a door, I avoid crowds with a passion, I will not go to fireworks shows.
My family doctor, he's also a fishing bud of mine, told me "You have PTSD" my reply was "Well No shit dude" then we laughed and passed it off. When I came back to the world, I looked Fred's folks up, got on a big grey dog went to Kansas. I visited his grave, cried like a child. To be honest, when I think of him from time to time, I still tear up.
I learned what was important, and what wasn't, I also learned how far could and would go to get the job done, and I also learned that down deep inside I am a Patriot. I love my country, I love my flag and I fought for folks just like you and NO...none of you asked me to put it all on the line for you, but...I did it anyway. and as God is my judge I would go back and do it all over AGAIN. So, with all of that said, just remember, that old guy with the Viet Nam Veteran Cap on, he was more badass than you can even imagine. And, probably still is...馃ぃ Bottom line is there's a lot of men and women dead for what you have...Just remember and say a prayer for them...
I am going to write this serious piece then I'm going back to being a sarcastic smart ass馃ぃ In 1965 I enlisted in the United States Marine Corps. I had no where else to go at that stage in my life. Anyway, I took my Basic Training at Parris Island, SC. Then went on to Advanced Infantry Training at Camp Geiger, North Carolina, then went on to EOD School(that's learning how to blow shit up for you dummies out there馃ぃ)Then thirty days leave then took that long plane ride down to SouthEast Asia, I stepped off that plane into a completely different world. Everything I had known before that minute in time was gone, disappeared like a wisp of smoke on the wind.
Anyway, My best friend, Fred Davis, from out of a small town in Kansas and I had the good fortune to be assigned to the same combat unit. Now, Fred was like me in a few respects. We were kids, just boys, we were like brothers in AIT and EOD School, where you saw one, you saw the other one. Get the picture here?...he had family, I didn't. Maybe that's what brought us together. We talked trash, got into minor bullshit scrapes together and we KNEW, beyond a shadow of a doubt that we were INVINCIBLE. That's what we bought into in Basic Training, AIT and EOD.
Long story short,two days later we received our unit assignments then into the jungle we went. One hour after we reported to our unit commander and stowing our gear we got hit by mortars and small arms fire. Fred had his guts blown out by shrapnel. I was right beside him, I was covered in his blood. That scared me, and even worse, it pissed me off. Sorry, I lied...it didn't just scare me, it terrified me. They bagged him up and sent him back to Kansas. A stone took the place of my heart. My squad leader mentioned to me in passing that I had gone off the deep end. I volunteered for every patrol, I volunteered for EVERY high risk operation, I volunteered for every little dirty job that needed to be done. I wanted pay back for Fred, I could never spill enough blood, I could never take enough lives. I could never inflict enough damage on the enemy. And I brought back high body counts and the numbers were all that mattered anyway. Three years, nine months, twenty two days and fifteen hours after I set foot for the first time in Viet Nam, Republic of, I came back to the world. The very first thing that happened to me was I had a hair head spit in my face, I re-arranged his face for him.
Things I heard...I heard a kid after a fire fight cry for his mother "momma please don't let me die" He did...I felt nothing. I heard a man curse God Almighty with his dying breath...THAT scared me...
Things I won't do today. I will NEVER sit with my back to a door, I avoid crowds with a passion, I will not go to fireworks shows.
My family doctor, he's also a fishing bud of mine, told me "You have PTSD" my reply was "Well No shit dude" then we laughed and passed it off. When I came back to the world, I looked Fred's folks up, got on a big grey dog went to Kansas. I visited his grave, cried like a child. To be honest, when I think of him from time to time, I still tear up.
I learned what was important, and what wasn't, I also learned how far could and would go to get the job done, and I also learned that down deep inside I am a Patriot. I love my country, I love my flag and I fought for folks just like you and NO...none of you asked me to put it all on the line for you, but...I did it anyway. and as God is my judge I would go back and do it all over AGAIN. So, with all of that said, just remember, that old guy with the Viet Nam Veteran Cap on, he was more badass than you can even imagine. And, probably still is...馃ぃ Bottom line is there's a lot of men and women dead for what you have...Just remember and say a prayer for them...
