Threshold 1 & 2

Threshold 1

As the plane lifted from the runway I turned my head toward the window struggling not to weep. My view of the retreating LaGuardia tarmac was blurry, so much like my feelings. I’m really angry for being sent away. I hate feeling so unprepared. I don’t understand this mixed in feeling of elation.

A long journey to a place where fellow passengers grew excited as we began our descent, all trying to see out…to understand. How odd the landscape looks from here. All the greens remind me of Ireland. Something like Uncle Harry’s farm, too. No, it’s far more beautiful because of the hazy purplish peaks ringing the horizon. And so many lakes…just like Minnesota…no, wait. Bomb craters. Oh, God!

Wonder what Mary is doing now? It’s probably only 8:00 pm in White Plains.

Man…look at these people. Why don’t they sit on chairs? How can they squat down like that? This place is hot and it smells funny…kind of like wet leaves…kind of like dirt. Motor scooters! So many of them. I wonder why there are no screens on the windows? Why is everyone looking at me? If everybody wasn’t so damn short maybe they wouldn’t notice me.

I can’t sleep. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve…I can’t believe my stupid luck. I’m so tired and yet I can’t stop thinking. Will the sound of planes ever stop? What happens tomorrow? I can’t do this. Please make my stomach stop churning. Well, at least its cool in here.

Thud, thud…boom. What the hell! What’s going on? Pop, pop…pop. Is that gunfire? Why is everyone running around outside? I don’t get it. Should I be looking out this window? What should I do? Why doesn’t anyone help me? “Cover yourselves with your mattresses you idiots! You’re in Vietnam now!”




Threshold 2

My spirits climbed as we struggled up through the clouds just out of range of Tan Sanute. That was so cool…everyone cheered when we lifted off the runway. I feel like I’m home already. I can’t wait. I can’t believe they let me out a month early to start grad school. I can’t believe I made it. I’m so proud. Almost all of us made it. I’m so relieved. God bless America!

I hope all the guys are OK. It hurt to leave them. God, please take care of them. Strange how I often couldn’t remember their names. No one cried when I left, but we all felt bad. Congratulations all around but no one would look me in the eye.

Air conditioning and they’re about to serve breakfast. This is great!

Oh, Jesus. He looks so young laying there, all crumpled…he couldn’t be much older than fourteen. Why did he have to be here? I wonder if his family knew where he was? Did they love him? Hope he didn’t know what happened. Why do I want to hug him? I wish I could explain it to him.

I have to laugh. All of those dusty, smudged letters I sent to Mary. That red clay gets into everything. Hope she likes the lacquered box that I bought for her. I liked Cambodia better. I wish I had more souvenirs.

Strange how they give you a medal when the other side hurts you.

When I get to San Francisco I really have to run to make that connecting flight. I wonder how the stewardesses can put up with us? Oh, man…seats in their upright position, trays locked into place. Wish I wasn’t wearing this uniform. I’m so glad to be here.

Thank you, Father. Thank you. I’m so grateful. Now if I can just make that connection. I’m so happy to be here. I feel wonderful.

That guy with the long hair walking towards me. Wonder what he wants…can’t stop…have to make that connection. Wonder if he’s one of those antiwar… I can’t believe it. The jerk just hocked a louie at me. “Welcome home GI.”