I would like to share some Vietnam War related narratives.
RETURNING TO VIETNAM
I have said this for many years the US failed to build an emotional bridge for Vietnam War veterans by not accepting them with open arms. Perhaps many of them are emotionally stuck in Vietnam. It is interesting that another bridge has been created. An emotional bridge has been created for veterans to go back to Vietnam. Many have done so, and many experienced a greater sense of closure.
Most of the veterans were surprised how welcoming the Vietnamese treated them. I read this might have been facilitated by Uncle Ho who told the Vietnamese that US service members were not the enemy, but the US government was. My father opined forgiveness was the result of the pronounced Buddhist influence in their society.
The veterans often experienced poignant moments like a Vietnamese family inviting a veteran for dinner. A news anchor arranging transportation for a veteran free of charge. Walking old battlefields and meeting their Vietnamese counterparts. They would look for familiar terrain features and fight the battles again in their mind. On one occasion an old former VC teared up as he talked to a veteran and shared beers together. An old widow who wanted to visit the exact location where her young husband died. In all actuality, my humble words will never portray the topic of the Vietnam War with justice.
VIETNAM WAR REUNION
I was invited to two Vietnam reunions as a guest and wished every unit had them as well. The unit sustained high casualties in Vietnam. I can not explain the depth and width of the energy, sadness, electricity, and love well enough during the reunion with accuracy and proper justice for such a hallowed gathering. It was an event where I witnessed those attending cry, laugh, and joke. They reacquainted themselves with their buddies and remembered those who did not come home alive as well. Moments of clarity lent themselves to fond memories that randomly occur in war. There was catharsis as old buddies reacquainted themselves with each other. It was welcome respite as there was more to it than just suffering, there was love. That love reiterated the greatest bond created by common memories and emotions of war. War does that to soldiers.
They expressed a sense of intimacy as they fought and ate together, shared pictures of their families, protected each other, and watched buddies take their last breath on the battlefield. Often dying soldiers would call for their mothers. Their bond and love for each other is like nothing in the civilian world. Their actions means life or death. They fight for their buddies at the 9 and 3 o'clock and will hold a position at all cost to provide covering fire so their buddies can maneuver back safely. They were prepared to lay down their lives to save others. They fought for each other. The Super Bowl is nothing compared to combat. In combat you play for keeps.
I looked at the veterans and it was a shotgun blast. Some were successful and some were not. Some were lost in life and some were not; but for those two days of the reunion; it was a singular collective moment to share in the sadness and happiness that pervaded in their lives albeit buried deep inside them. It was part of their DNA and it would be eternal. The raw emotions that were buried resurfaced and provided linkage to others in the unit during the reunion. Those old warriors also reflected on those who did not make it home alive and their hearts were broken, perhaps maybe forever. I was a mere guest and interloper, but what I witnessed was a kaleidoscope of immense and deep emotions. Everyone had permission to cry, and they did.
OLD WIDOW VISITS VIETNAM
An old American widow traveled to Vietnam on a pilgrimage to see the exact location where her young husband died during the war. Dean and Hattie fell in love in high school and were inseparable and married immediately upon graduating from college, but he was drafted and shortly afterwards, left for Vietnam. They were married and in love and talked about a rich and exciting future together, but the bells of war were ringing. They delayed the inevitable until it was almost time to say goodbye. She had meticulously packed his luggage and fretted but did not show it. A yellow taxi arrived in the light rain and they embraced, smiled, and kissed and said they loved each other; and he whispered soothing words in her ear. Then he was gone, forever.
Hattie, in her 70s, decided take an emotional and mental trip to Vietnam in her quest to find peace. Where she stood the air was hot and stifling as if a knife could cut through the humidity. There was some welcome respite from the hot sun under the canopy of large trees. She asked various villages if they knew of a helicopter crash during the war. They repeated this over and over again. By random chance she found an old Vietnamese man who would become her guide who knew of a location of a helicopter crash. The Vietnamese guide was none other than the NVA soldier who witnessed Dean's Huey crash and his death. He described her husband's dying moments with minute morbid details. She had strong ambivalent feelings for the old Vietnamese soldier. He was the enemy, but yet he would help bring a semblance of understanding and peace to her to quench her broken heart. Something she sought for such a long time. She did not expect an apology, nor did he give it to her. They were both doing their duties.
Over the years Hattie had remarried and started a family, but she wanted closure. Final closure. I suppose she still loved him and got just enough of him in her life that he would always be in her heart. However, she wanted what was impossible, more time with him. He was like a beautiful song she heard, but heard just part of it, and no more. She wished and wanted to listen to the rest of the song. Dean would be stored safely in her heart until she becomes no more. Then perhaps, they can explore the universe together. Young and free, in perpetuity, with no time limits and no constraints.
RETURNING TO VIETNAM
I have said this for many years the US failed to build an emotional bridge for Vietnam War veterans by not accepting them with open arms. Perhaps many of them are emotionally stuck in Vietnam. It is interesting that another bridge has been created. An emotional bridge has been created for veterans to go back to Vietnam. Many have done so, and many experienced a greater sense of closure.
Most of the veterans were surprised how welcoming the Vietnamese treated them. I read this might have been facilitated by Uncle Ho who told the Vietnamese that US service members were not the enemy, but the US government was. My father opined forgiveness was the result of the pronounced Buddhist influence in their society.
The veterans often experienced poignant moments like a Vietnamese family inviting a veteran for dinner. A news anchor arranging transportation for a veteran free of charge. Walking old battlefields and meeting their Vietnamese counterparts. They would look for familiar terrain features and fight the battles again in their mind. On one occasion an old former VC teared up as he talked to a veteran and shared beers together. An old widow who wanted to visit the exact location where her young husband died. In all actuality, my humble words will never portray the topic of the Vietnam War with justice.
VIETNAM WAR REUNION
I was invited to two Vietnam reunions as a guest and wished every unit had them as well. The unit sustained high casualties in Vietnam. I can not explain the depth and width of the energy, sadness, electricity, and love well enough during the reunion with accuracy and proper justice for such a hallowed gathering. It was an event where I witnessed those attending cry, laugh, and joke. They reacquainted themselves with their buddies and remembered those who did not come home alive as well. Moments of clarity lent themselves to fond memories that randomly occur in war. There was catharsis as old buddies reacquainted themselves with each other. It was welcome respite as there was more to it than just suffering, there was love. That love reiterated the greatest bond created by common memories and emotions of war. War does that to soldiers.
They expressed a sense of intimacy as they fought and ate together, shared pictures of their families, protected each other, and watched buddies take their last breath on the battlefield. Often dying soldiers would call for their mothers. Their bond and love for each other is like nothing in the civilian world. Their actions means life or death. They fight for their buddies at the 9 and 3 o'clock and will hold a position at all cost to provide covering fire so their buddies can maneuver back safely. They were prepared to lay down their lives to save others. They fought for each other. The Super Bowl is nothing compared to combat. In combat you play for keeps.
I looked at the veterans and it was a shotgun blast. Some were successful and some were not. Some were lost in life and some were not; but for those two days of the reunion; it was a singular collective moment to share in the sadness and happiness that pervaded in their lives albeit buried deep inside them. It was part of their DNA and it would be eternal. The raw emotions that were buried resurfaced and provided linkage to others in the unit during the reunion. Those old warriors also reflected on those who did not make it home alive and their hearts were broken, perhaps maybe forever. I was a mere guest and interloper, but what I witnessed was a kaleidoscope of immense and deep emotions. Everyone had permission to cry, and they did.
OLD WIDOW VISITS VIETNAM
An old American widow traveled to Vietnam on a pilgrimage to see the exact location where her young husband died during the war. Dean and Hattie fell in love in high school and were inseparable and married immediately upon graduating from college, but he was drafted and shortly afterwards, left for Vietnam. They were married and in love and talked about a rich and exciting future together, but the bells of war were ringing. They delayed the inevitable until it was almost time to say goodbye. She had meticulously packed his luggage and fretted but did not show it. A yellow taxi arrived in the light rain and they embraced, smiled, and kissed and said they loved each other; and he whispered soothing words in her ear. Then he was gone, forever.
Hattie, in her 70s, decided take an emotional and mental trip to Vietnam in her quest to find peace. Where she stood the air was hot and stifling as if a knife could cut through the humidity. There was some welcome respite from the hot sun under the canopy of large trees. She asked various villages if they knew of a helicopter crash during the war. They repeated this over and over again. By random chance she found an old Vietnamese man who would become her guide who knew of a location of a helicopter crash. The Vietnamese guide was none other than the NVA soldier who witnessed Dean's Huey crash and his death. He described her husband's dying moments with minute morbid details. She had strong ambivalent feelings for the old Vietnamese soldier. He was the enemy, but yet he would help bring a semblance of understanding and peace to her to quench her broken heart. Something she sought for such a long time. She did not expect an apology, nor did he give it to her. They were both doing their duties.
Over the years Hattie had remarried and started a family, but she wanted closure. Final closure. I suppose she still loved him and got just enough of him in her life that he would always be in her heart. However, she wanted what was impossible, more time with him. He was like a beautiful song she heard, but heard just part of it, and no more. She wished and wanted to listen to the rest of the song. Dean would be stored safely in her heart until she becomes no more. Then perhaps, they can explore the universe together. Young and free, in perpetuity, with no time limits and no constraints.