Poems of a Forgotten War

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                                                               Brothers in Arms

Brothers in arms in a far away place

Just a little country called Vietnam

Doing our job, day after day, night after night

Humping our butts all day, Humping our butts all night

Ten clicks out, hope we make it back

You cover my back and I'll cover yours

Never looking back, we all got the knack

Twelve go out, only six come back

Sometimes bitter and sometimes sad

No time for crying, no time to feel bad

Ten more clicks, let's do it again

Set up the ambush and wait all night

Quiet as a mouse in the elephant grass

Shadows in the moon are coming for me

Lock and load, I'm ready for the fight

Popping the Claymores and firing at will

waiting, waiting, long into the night

When its all over we come back in

Just a band of brothers in arms

Doing our jobs

Tomorrow, more clicks out, do it all over again

A Date With Vietnam

“Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country "

John F. Kennedy - January 20th 1961




I believed what President Kennedy said in those words, and my parents and family backed me up on it.  It was strange, my relationship with The Nam I mean. Even when under fire, even when I was scared and feared for my life, I didn't question why America was there, why I was there.


Back then, so many of us just believed our parents, we had faith in America and we believed that we were doing the right thing.

I entered the Army with that doing the right thing attitude. So
much so, that I signed up for a second tour because I felt our
military presence was making a difference. By my second tour there, the Army felt more like home than The World did, the place where I decided I found my niche in life, like I finally found a place where I belonged.




A lot of guys back then didn't feel that way though. The ones
who had been drafted absolutely hated it there. The World was all they talked about, it dominated every conversation they had.

They talked incessantly about what they had been doing in The World when they were forced to come to Nam by the draft, their families back there, and most of all, how to get back to The World and resume their former lives. They talked about it because I think they were afraid if they stopped talking, then The World would become lost to them and they'd never make it back.

The World never held a lot of meaning for me, as a kid, so I
didn't long for it, pine for it, like many of the guys did. I had a good childhood, but my teen years had been turbulent, so, for me, leaving The World wasn't such a traumatic event. In fact, leaving The World was a big adventure for me and I was loving it, so far.

When they never come home

We mourn soldiers who die in a war zone.  There are many who physically die, but there are more who return home physically but not mentally.  Those who lost their lives, well their trials and tribulations are over, there can be closure for families. Those who die emotionally, their problems are simply just beginning.  Loved ones can grasp a physical death, while the emotional and many times, mental deaths are much, much harder to come to grips with.

  It has finally been determined that many veterans from every war ever fought have suffered from this condition.  The difference in those past wars, to present, is that PTSD was shoved under the carpet until our modern era.  Many liked to name the condition shell shock, that way no government officials felt any responsibility for admitting that the war itself caused it.  This was one way of just being off the hook for government officials and military officials.  For if they did admit it might be service related, they knew they would be wide open to a host of payments for a service related condition.  When it comes to money, well, military and government officials are very good at dodging that bullet, so to speak. 

This is the story, my story, of living with PTSD at its heights.  It is a story of how, for years, no one would acknowledge that this troublesome condition even existed.  If it were up to government officials and armchair generals, it still wouldn't exist.  First off, my hat goes off to Vietnam Veterans who got the ball rolling when it comes to not allowing it to be swept under the rug.  Also to the present day veterans who didn't drop the ball and who now carry the torch of justice for all veterans who come home with this condition.  Only those who have lived with it, spouses, parents, children and most of all, the veterans themselves, really know and understand the nightmare that is PTSD.

While the world is applauding a new movie about a famous sniper, what happens to the everyday veteran who is not famous?  Is he or she any less value?  No, and this series of blogs is dedicated to the men and women who went into the unknown, who felt a calling to serve their country, who have refused to 'go gently into that good night' quietly.  For their lives are of major importance whether you know their names or not. 

Wife of a Vietnam veteran twice

I enjoy reading comments from Vietnam veterans groups that my husband has joined on the social media, Facebook.  I understand why he likes these groups.  Veterans enjoy sharing reflections, thoughts and pictures because no one really understands that experience like other veterans.  

There is one site that is supposed to, according to the rules, be cordial to one another, where veterans can share pictures, swap stories, share songs, poems and just experience a camaraderie of talking to others who shared a very unjust war.  Unfortunately there always exists veterans who are bitter, full of hate and have never been able to rejoin civilian life because they cannot, for whatever reason, leave Vietnam.  I know, from firsthand experience just how deep this bitterness can run, just how much it can, not only control, but also destroy, a veteran's life and any chance for happiness.  The saddest part, is that even when the bitterness consumes them and destroys their life, they still do not understand it themselves, nor can they control it. Everyone who takes part in a war, be it the perceived enemy or the soldier, is a victim of gross injustice laid upon them through no fault of their own.  Yet many involved in a war, come out of it feeling guilty.

My first experience with a Vietnam veteran was at a very young age.  We dated, got engaged and married.  This marriage proved to be one of the biggest mistakes of my young life.  I had no idea how bitter a veteran could be and I certainly had no idea what PTSD was since, in 1970, according to the government and the psychiatric community, it simply didn't exist.  Well exist it did and it destroyed my marriage and sent my family down a dark path that we could not have imagined in our wildest nightmares.  Those types of veterans are like a King Midas, only instead of everything they touch turning to gold, what they touch turns to bitterness and hatred and nightmares for those living with them. They cannot leave Vietnam behind, they are angry at being used as pawns and since it is not possible to punish the government responsible for their anger, they punish those closest to them.  Finally, after too many years of enduring the hatred and abuse, we got divorced.  I was divorced for 11 years, convincing myself that not only were Vietnam veterans crazy people, but that marriage itself was highly over rated, never to be entered into again, at least not by me. What PTSD does is make everyone a victim, especially those families experiencing the hatred and bitterness, and the sad thing is, those families feel like they did something wrong, when they did nothing to trigger the hatred.  Nothing has to be done to trigger that kind of hatred because the hatred lives inside the person with PTSD and whatever you do to help ends up being just a band aid on a shotgun wound.  There is nothing the family can do to stop the hemorrhaging of hatred that gets passed down, like some bitter legacy, to family members. Family members who, especially during a time in America's history, when No One would recognize such a thing as PTSD, when no help existed for veterans nor for families.  When getting divorced feels like someone died because many suffering, without treatment, are as dead inside as the veteran who has laid down in their graves is on the outside.  

One day, after 11 years of feeling bitter about marriage, I met another Vietnam veteran.  We dated but inside, I felt with great certainty, this relationship had no future.  I was wrong.  We dated, we had fun together and we married.  Am I a glutton for punishment?  No, because this veteran is as sweet as the other one was terrible.  I have learned not all Vietnam veterans still live in Vietnam, in the war.  Not all veterans are bitter.  They can be disappointed as the next veteran, but not bitter.  I've been married to this nice man for 14 years now and I've come to know that while all veterans, and their families, were handed a raw deal, there is no reason not to move on, leave the war behind and my veteran has written books hoping to help young people understand that war is no place for them to be.  He wants them to know that, too often, it can tear their lives apart while an ungrateful government stands idly by, discarding them like yesterday's trash.  Writing his memoirs was not an easy task, but he felt it had to be done.  I admire him for it, for transporting himself back to a war he'd just as soon forget, but wanting young men and women to understand it's not good to participate in any war.

 

 

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Reflections on a Christmas day, is there forgiveness in war?

 

 

As a soldier reflecting where I've been before

I wonder, is there forgiveness in a war?

Forgiveness from those hurt to their very core

Is forgiveness simply story and lore?

Soldiers who thought what they did was just

Soldiers having done what they felt they must

But wising up, losing the trust

Is there such a thing as forgiveness or bust?

Is there one god?

Or is there more than one?

Looking at all of us under the sun

We grow older, now reflection has begun

We all share the same sun

We all share the same moon

We all share the same sky

No peace on Earth until soldiers ask: "Why?"

Why am I killing?

Why do I plunder and destroy?

A tank, a gun, is not just a toy

But war mongers place them in the hands of a boy

We say: "Peace."

We act like Earth belongs to us

To do with as we want

Is it ours, or are we here on a lease?

If I were a god hearing us saying: "Peace."

Would I be disgusted?

Would I serve an eviction notice?

Would I renew human's lease?

We say we love peace

We say so, yet we bring forth the gun

Why do we believe them?

Just because war mongers say: "Grab it and run."

Is there truly forgiveness in a war?

Memories that make us all sore

If there is forgiveness in a war

Why do we repeat it, like so many times before?

Some say war is a fear of what other countries may do

But I think it is the actions of just a few

We say we are a Christian nation in America

Is war what they mean by: "Do unto you?"

 War is control

War is just destruction

By some misguided humans

Probably suffering from some sort of dysfunction

Remember that peace is hugging, peace is loving

Peace is not shooting, pushing and shoving

Destroying your land is not very loving

No wonder you fight back when we commence the shoving

Peace on Earth

Where does it all start?

When soldiers question the motives

When soldiers find, not war, but love in their heart

 

 We as soldiers may live the war till the day we die

 

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In a place we should not have been

Young soldiers in a foreign land
Having a drink, listening to a band
To a bar we were told not to go in
But too young, attracted to liquor and sin

Young enough to not expect to die
Young ideas of living forever, a lie
Young and foolish our little band
The night when death showed it's ugly hand

Taking a seat at a table, settling in for a drink
We discovered things can change in just one wink
Us die? We didn't see the link. So young, who'd think?
One blast changed it all, the night death came to call

Drinking and laughing in a forbidden zone
We thought death would leave us alone
But we temporarily forgot it was a war
War sets the tone

To the men's room I took a leave
Not knowing what war had up it's sleeve
A blast, a loud noise
The deafening noise, made me take poise

I ran out to see dust and gloom
Surrounding a place that once was a room
I looked around when I was able
Just an empty spot that once was our table

Running to help my friends
Some wounded, some met their end
I could not believe my eyes
Too young to die?  A pack of lies

Helping survivors outside
In a war, no one is able to hide
We had laughed, we said we won't die
Now we had to face that lie

War has a way of finding you when there
War isn't sympathetic of your age
War just doesn't care
I lost some good friends over there

You travel back home
Friends you have lost
You feel a little more alone
That's the fact of any war zone

You push it to the back of your mind
But eventually those thoughts creep in
Thoughts that are not very kind
Death, war, friends lost, do not leave your mind

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So later when pondering, you think
You grow older, understand the link
So this is what death is?
One bomb, wrong place, wrong time, all gone with a fizz
 
 
 

If only I had listened, if only you would listen

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If only you would listen

If only I had listened

Listened before the blood glistened

We thought the good fight was for freedom

Let freedom ring

We killed those we never should have

Emotional wounds cannot be healed with band aid and salve 

We did our job, we looked like a mob

Come home with problems and reality

American government does not care

The emotional scars, all who fought, these we share

We say 'it's not fair'

We go to counseling

We get meds and a 'there, there'

We think that damned counselor cares?

Conditioned to fight a perceived enemy in hiding

Training that does not leave your head

Come home to no one who's guiding

Some days, emotions go sliding

Bitter you say?

If only you would listen

Listen, my Child

Listen before you rue the day

War machines fill our dreams

Some more, some less, still a mess

Emotional scars

We saw fire in those stars

Are we crazy?

Sometimes thoughts become hazy

Let the rich pick up arms

Don't look for my child, they don't answer your alarms

Fight a war yourself

Get your cell phone, take your own picture

Call it a 'selfie'

Remember yourself when you return, no limbs, as you sit on a shelfie

War these days is a video game?

The 'enemy' is never glad you came

Tearing up civilian's homes

Never to be the same

 Amen!!!!!!!!!!!!

They should love us you think?

It all looks good on paper and ink

To real human beings

A government has no real link

If only I had listened

If you would just listen

Please do before you see the blood glisten

Hopefully it is not your blood in the sun to glisten

 

On being a soldier

Having a beer to relax and forget, if only for a moment in war

Whether a person is in a war or not, those of the past and those of the present, emotions about war always run high, either for or against it. Do you want to know, first hand, how those who were in it feel, ask them.  The responses, like the emotions, will vary greatly from, 'I'm trying to forget, I'm not talking about it anymore, or I just cannot explain it."  The last one if very prominent because most military people will tell you: "Unless you were there, you cannot understand it all."  This response is probably the truest of all.  The biggest reason those who served in a war will not talk to civilians about it. They simply cannot understand it. 

"I'll be the first to admit that in Nam, probably in any war, events that would seem strange or bizarre back in The World, were just viewed as normal. Events you just cannot explain to anyone who hasn't lived through the chaos of war because they'd never understand. You had to be a witness to those events to get the full grasp of their meaning." (quote from my book: A Date With Vietnam.

The thing is; no one wants to fight a war, no one wants to kill people, (sometimes in a slaughter), no one is used to, brought up to, or even really trained well to, just get used to what they see in a war.  Yes, some are more adept at it than others, but no one, no matter their circumstances, is prepared to see their buddies and best friends killed in front of them either. 

But should we all 'forget' any wars simply because they are 'distasteful'?  Well show me a 'tasteful' war and I will say: "Sure, let's forget all the rest of them."  But I know there never has been nor ever will be a 'tasteful' war.  Each year we commemorate the Revolutionary War, the one fought for America's independence.  I'm sure those who fought that one would never have wanted us to forget that lives were lost and lives were changed forever and people died for it.  In ALL wars, people die and they die in large masses.  As the war machines have improved, more and more people die in huge masses, on both sides.  I would never tell the loved ones of someone killed in a war: "Well, just forget it."  That would be crass and highly rude. 

We tend to forget there is no 'faceless enemy' no matter what war you think of.  We forget that even the perceived enemy comes from a family and has loved ones too.  Even the enemy's life is changed forever.  We are friends with Japan, yet America used a weapon of such mass destruction on that country so terrible that it not only changed lives, it literally changed landscapes, forever.  

Each generation goes to war hoping their children never will have to.  We forget the pettiness of governments to ever be able to get along, so each generation must do the bidding of those in power, to fight a war in a country for whatever stupid reason, and for land that the military person will never control.  They fight it for someone else. Yes, governments want us to believe it is for 'our freedom' but is it really?  Doubtful. 

I say: "Do not ever forget those who fought the wars."  Protest, if need be, for veterans to not be homeless, to not get bad care from a VA hospital or outpatient service.  You know a veteran?  Be kind to them, show kindness, and remember: When fighting for their rights, you fight for your own as well.  You do not have to ask them to describe war, it's difficult even for the veteran to understand it all, but just be kind and make governments stop treating them, and us all, like we do not exist.  A veteran should not be homeless from ailments caused by a war they showed up to fight, for an ungrateful government that would like to toss them out like yesterday' trash.  Veterans showed up when called, the government needs to do the same, to step up to the plate for them.  Hell. America cannot even step up to the plate for fire fighters, police people, or emergency workers who helped in 9/11.  This attitude Must Stop!


My latest book tries to explain why and how anyone would fight a war.  I cannot do all veterans justice because it is complicated, indeed.  But I do my best.  I hope I succeeded in some small way.

Available right now on: Kindle

A Date with Vietnam

"A Date With Vietnam"
by Steve Weathers 288 pages

My latest book is to be released this Veterans Day November 11th and will be available on Amazon.com and also will be available on Kindle. 


It was strange, my relationship with the Nam I mean. Even when under fire, even when I was scared and feared for my life, I didn't question why America was there, why I was there. Back then, so many of us just believed our parents, we had faith in America and we believed we were doing the right thing. 
I entered the Army with that doing the right thing attitude. So much so, that I signed up for a second tour because I felt our military presence was making a difference.

This is not a book about being conservative or liberal in thinking. It is simply my story, my experience in a time when young people seemed to have wisdom beyond their years and wise, older people, seemed to take leave of their senses. That's how screwed up society and the Vietnam War was.
 Death occupied our minds constantly, no matter where you were stationed in the Nam.

Now accepting orders for  pre -released signed copies, contact me by email

A young soldier's journey

Walking home from school that day, my throat was dry, a sensation of strength washed over me.  I had really wanted to hurt that guy, to see blood.  Right now I figured my blood pressure was like 160 at least.  I was grateful for the eight miles between the school and my house.  I needed this long walk to help silence the blood pounding in my ears.  I knew my parents might be upset when they heard what I'd done but this showdown had been a long time coming.  Right now I didn't care about the possible consequences.  Besides, I felt like that guy had been just looking for a fight and he nearly got one from me.  

  Maybe my vision was clouded as I walked home from high school for the last time on that warm day in 1965, the year I turned 16 and knew I didn't have to take that mistreatment anymore.  Hell, it wasn’t like it was my first trip to the Principal’s office, I had gotten used to that, but on this day, I was determined it would be my last trip there.

I was sent to his office, this time, from shop class.  I had rigged a piece of lumber in the lathe so it would fling out at the shop teacher when he turned it on.  While that action had gotten a rousing laugh out of the class, the shop teacher was far from amused so it earned me a trip to the principal’s office, nothing new for me.  But this time it was different from the three days of detention I usually got. This time he told me he ‘would have to paddle me’ because it was such a ‘serious offense,’ and someone could have been hurt badly or even killed by the flying wood.  He then took a significantly sized paddle from behind his desk and came at me with it, a look of almost delight in his eyes, as if hitting students made his day.  I decided I wasn't going to make it easy for him either.   I had already decided that he wasn't going to lay a hand on me. 

As he approached me, I bit my lip, felt my hands clench and unclench as I moved slowly and deliberately towards him.  As soon as he entered my personal space, I planted my feet further apart to let him know I was standing my ground.  I defiantly said: “If you touch me with that damn paddle, I’ll break it over your f%*@king head.” 

Suddenly he stopped in his tracks, as his eyes widened he seemed to be doing a double take about the whole situation.  He was probably stunned by my language.  Back then, small town Indiana nice kids weren’t supposed to talk like that.   But I had always been a rebel in those days anyway, and I admit I had a definite problem with authority figures. 

Whatever the reason for his abrupt stop I will never fully know, but after lowering the paddle he looked at me through squinted eyes.  Finding his voice again, he asked: “What did you just say?”

 Infusing as much anger into my voice as I could, I answered: “You heard what I said."  Once I repeated myself he then pointed out I would have to be suspended for three days at the very least.  I lowered my head and mumbled something about how it was going to be the longest three days he would ever see.   With that having been said, I slammed out of his office, walked through the big glass doors, away from the building, never once looking back. 

That son of a bi&@h sure didn’t need to tell me twice.  I knew I was never going back to that school.   I really hated school anymore anyway.  For a long time now school seemed to hold little meaning for me.  I had grown restless and failed to see any reason for continuing high school.  

On any other day but today I would not have liked the eight mile walk home because it usually seemed so long.  But today I was grateful for the distance between the school and my house because it gave me a chance to think as I walked.  While walking the eight mile journey home, I mulled over in my head what I was going to say to my parents about my plans to never go back to high school.  I had been thinking of joining the Army for some time and I could think of no better time than now but I would need my parents to sign papers for me because I was only 16.  I would just need to convince them it was the right decision.  

Steve/Author

As a young soldier in Vietnam

Books for the Holiday's

The holiday season is here again and books make great stocking stuffers for adults and children alike. We have a great selection of books for you to choose from. Books of Love,Poetry,War, Vampires, Family and Nursing Homes and even a book for kids about a kitty. Here is today's featured book 

The night of the TET Offensive in Saigon, we were sent to watch the river.  Making sure we were not going to be attacked from the water.

It was a long night, to say the least.  Every time I heard a sound, I kept imagining it was from a VC  or a sapper sneaking in to either blow up our ships or, worse yet, slit our throats.  It was a long night, in the moonlight, trying to see solid figures from mere shadows.  Finally, after what seemed like a night that lasted a week, the daylight shown through and we were able to see the river much more clearly. 

(Excerpt from: A Boy in a Hurry for Manhood to Arrive)

This book is the memoirs of a young soldier who quit High School at the age of 17 to join the Army. It cover the time he was in Vietnam and the heartaches and death he saw, it also covers his return to civilian life and how he just did not seem to fit in as he tried to lead a normal life. A book highly recommended for those in the military or the ones thinking of joining the military.

           Perimeter wire at the edge of the Saigon river

This book is available from Amazon.com and also Barnes & Noble book stores. Author signed copies are available by emailing us direct at weathers1949@hotmail.com