So I'm a Veteran

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I still, no matter what, think being a Veteran is an accomplishment to be proud of, but.  I say 'but' for a reason. Sometimes, my once fellow brothers in arms, never cease to mystify me, especially in this new political arena.  Many, many of them once watched our backs in a war climate, yet here we are fifty years later and now many of them are supporting the backs of people who Still don't care about their well being.  THAT mystifies me to no end.

Since Vietnam, which next to the American Civil War, was and still is, the most unpopular War in this country's history.  Still unpopular with our American government, so much so, I do not see where America is really grateful for our service whatsoever.  Not even to this day.

I've lived to see things like: "We need to stop communism in Vietnam before it spreads."(1960's)  "Tie a yellow ribbon around the old oak tree" (1990's) And, most recently on Facebook: "Support Our Troops." (20016) I've learned that ALL are just slogan campaigns to encourage sending our young men to their deaths.  Gotta stir up patriotism Somehow, I suppose.

Since it's been said Russia meddled in America's voting process and since it has been said, our new head person has basically allowed Russia to 'walk right through America's front door' then I've been wondering 'why in Hell Did we go to Vietnam?'  No one really seems to touch that question, much less come up with a reasonable explanation.

So WHY did my 'used to be brothers in arms' vote for people who would just as soon forget them as to look at them?  Was there something I missed when I thought we were still loyal to those who were oh so hell bent on stopping communism from reaching America?  Were they really concerned about that or did they become so jaded along the way, I am now shaking my head in awe of their not even being loyal to their own well being, much less their fellow Veterans?  I'm not angry, simply mystified and deeply saddened when it comes to what appears to me, as a sudden turn of events about their thinking process. 

People, these days, come up to me on the streets, in restaurants and stores, saying: "Thank you for your service."  Well fifty years in coming still seems like a very long time to me.  What does one say when people's feelings appear to sway with the wind on a particular century or year?  Should I now be grateful for once being spat upon, the once 'we hate you' form of gratitude in 1970,  to now, 'thank you for your service?'  Especially when it looks like we did not keep communism out of American government?  (BTW I wear my 'Vietnam Vet' hat because I'm still proud to be a veteran. 

Sad to see: In 1960's the American military could not even buy the better made, Chinese rifles to save our lives in Vietnam.  To now if it isn't Chinese made, you cannot even purchase it in America.  Well, I for one, can see clearly that in ANY war, the American young person, always, always from poorer families, is and always will be, nothing more than cannon fodder to a government who cares so little for their own cause they make sure They nor their privileged children, will ever pick up a weapon.  They just keep sending poor kids, since I suppose we are expendable to them. Funny, our parents didn't and still don't, think we are expendable.  When I see 'All lives matter" I Still think: 'Who's lives we talkin?" 

So all in all, I loved my brothers in arms, but do not recognize any of them in the year 2016 nor will recognize them any better in 2017.  Just some food for thought. 

A war called Vietnam

I fought a war called, Vietnam
I then came home to be spat upon
Now I hear Welcome home"
Where in hell were you when I was alone?

Wars they come, wars they go
We're older now, does it show?
We've learned, we say
Today is a new day
America must have an attention problem

Concentrate on a new day
America's answer?
"Hey a new country for our war to play"
Attention span is a might short
"A new war" is America's retort

I see, "Support our troops'
I guess violence and carnage are our roots
"We really prefer peace"
Until chickens once again come home to roost

More young people with innocent faces
Sent to kill and be killed in foreign places
"They need more children, Honey'"
"Since we've learned war brings big money"

Off to another war they go
Backpacks and guns in toe
Will they return?
No one for sure can know

No one knows till the die is cast
Not until this war is in our past
But we do already know
This war will not be our last

America dusts off it's killing machine
Again and again
In the future your children they will send
America's blood thirst will never end


Oh Mom and Dad make it end
Ignore the lies
Tell them your kids you won't send
Stop showing up, again and again

Think not sending them is unpatriotic?
Our kids being killed in foreign lands is not exotic
War is simply chaotic
America, you need a tonic

Snap out of it, get well
They say 'war' you say, 'go to hell'
In too many wars, in too many lands they fell
America, heal, time to get well

First Brush With Death...A Date With Vietnam

The day I was first shot at and the Vietnamese guy I was
transporting in the vehicle next to me had a bullet hole in his
head, I tried not to panic. I looked at him and very quickly
sprung into survival mode. I didn't relish dying here, on the
side of a remote road, but for the first time, I realized it was a
possibility. I was thinking what my parents back home would
say when they got my death notice. Strange how those ideas
run through your head when in a life or death situation. I didn't die that day, but I would come damned near closer to it several times more than I'd have cared to before leaving The Nam. 

In Nam it almost seemed like The World and family didn't exist anymore, sometimes. Holidays were spent in this foreign country and you forgot what family gatherings were even like. It all seemed so damned far away after a while. But I had my reasons for joining the Army. After I quit school, I made a promise to myself and a date with Vietnam, I intended to keep them both.

It was not like I was totally naive about what the military, war
and even what death was, sort of. Even though I had only seen dead people maybe two or three times in my life, up to this point.  But I thought I knew a lot about death
at the ripe old age of 16. I didn't realize it then, but I would
experience and learn much more, in war, concerning the subject of death.





  

War an outlet for a potential bad boy...diary

1965....Turning 16, the struggle to be a grownup

Spring 1965:

Walked home from school today.  I quit, which pissed my dad off and my mom wasn't much happier.  Dad asked me what in hell I thought I was going to do now.  Told him I plan to join the Army, go to Vietnam, help my country win a war.  The look on his face said it all; he looked at me like I was some dumb kid.  I'm not, I want to be treated as an adult.  Don't they get it?  I hate school and I know the only way to see the world is to join the Army.  After a long talk, Dad finally agreed to go with me to see the Army recruiter.  I was hoping he'd come around.

A few weeks ago I talked with a couple old classmates at school.  They came in dressed in their army uniforms and man, what a crowd they drew.  Those uniforms look cool and all the kids hung around them like bees around honey.  I liked that, especially the girls they attracted.  something about a uniform all the girls seem to like.  The admiring looks from the guys seemed pretty cool to me too.  I asked them all sorts of questions about Vietnam, the Army and if they liked it.  They said they did and planned to go back to Vietnam in about 30 days.  

I listened, as a kid, to my dad and my uncle talk about the war.  My uncle is so full of stories, interesting stories and he makes the Army seem very interesting.  I made up my mind, a long time ago, I wanted to join, get out of Indiana and see more of the world.  Hell, the Army will pay for it and I'll learn something too.  Thanks Dad for coming around.

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
 
 
 

What's it like being a veteran?

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Becoming a soldier, well, what does it mean?  Maybe it depends on whether you ask a soldier before going to war or after he comes home.

Being a soldier meant doing what we thought was best, we thought we were fighting for America.  It turns out not to be so true.  If we fought for freedom, why do people disagreeing with the government not have freedom of speech?  Why do people protesting unfair treatment get tear gas and tazers?  Did we not fight for your freedom, for mine?

Many times, soldiers become disillusioned with what war really is.  Did we think that bullets, bombs and any weapons of war discriminate?  Did we think they somehow they would not cut down anything and anyone in their path?  Maybe we did.

With the erosion of freedom, did we do such an excellent job fighting, fighting for, not your freedom, not my freedom, but for the freedom of rich banks and corporations to take over, not just other countries, but America as well?

Did we fight for the freedom of going backward in time, for the elite to take our jobs, to take our homes, to run us all into the ditch economically?

Well, Brothers and Sisters, then I guess we won that damned war.  Not for you, not for me, but for the rich and powerful.

Money cannot buy votes unless we allow it to.  Voting rights cannot be taken away, unless we allow them to.  Jobs cannot be sent elsewhere, unless we allow them to.

As a veteran, I see "support our troops" slogans that mean nothing more than just that.......words, meaningless words.  What in hell are you supporting?  Do you even know?

When I shop and the clerk says: "Do you want to give your change to help buy school supplies for the military families kids?"  I think:  Why in hell isn't our supposedly grateful, government buying those school supplies?  Isn't the government their present employer?  Is American government the Wal-Mart of America now too?  Low wages, crap services and driving military families into poverty?  Shame on America for hiring military people to be their private mercenaries and not paying them well enough for the job.  Fighting for our freedoms you say?  Look again and guess again.

When I to to the VA for services, services are limited.  Yet when I served, my time was not limited, those men who died did not limit their service to the government.  Limited?  Well, the hell, you say!  

So young and itching to grow up

Funny, how we are so full of confidence at a young age

 It was the year 1966 and America was embroiled in a war in a place called Vietnam and either the world was beginning to act crazy or, as young boys trying to find our places in the world, it just seemed crazy to us.  The Vietnam War was on the daily news, race riots were also taking place in various areas of America and the National Guard units were being called out, often, to help keep the peace in many of the Southern states.  We just knew the world was changing, rapidly and we wanted to be able to find our places in it all. 

   Music was changing too and much of it was starting to reflect the opinions many young people were having toward the draft and the Vietnam War in the form of protest songs. The Beatles, a band from England, were popular.  We grew up watching TV with its daily news about American unrest, flights into space and of course, the Communist were coming, or so the news led us to believe. The draft was also in full bloom and young men were nervous at the prospect of being forced to fight a war they knew nothing about.  I know history calls it a conflict, but so many people were killed in Vietnam that it should be placed in the war category, not a conflict class.  I guess it can be summed up as an era of raging against the machine by the younger society.

So young, so proud of serving

  My best friend and I had had a lot in common, both of us had shared a feeling of growing tired of Indiana and we both thought our lives were pretty boring here.  I guess the move to Michigan was his way of getting away from the boredom.   I still couldn’t believe he was dead.  When some kids at school told me he had been killed, it felt like someone had punched me in the stomach.  I ran my fingers through my hair, trying desperately to catch my breath. I even thought I'd misheard them at first.  I tried to glean more information from those guys but no one had any details other than he had been killed.  

Most of us kids didn't know a lot about death, certainly not the death of anyone so close to us.  We talked after school and made plans to go to Michigan to attend his funeral.  I think the trip was as much out of curiosity concerning death, as it was about paying our last respects.

My story

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