Another Veteran Remembers

For a variety of reasons I've never been one inclined to talk about my experiences while in the military, and more particularly, about my experiences while in Vietnam (F Troop, 11th Armored Calvary). It has been many decades now since I returned to my civilian life and the long time period since those days underscores my feeling that perhaps my experiences were irrelevant on many levels...particularly to others. I think this explains some of my reluctance to discuss this period of my life. No one asked me much. There could be deeper reasons for how this all turned out, but they have escaped me...not being particularly introspective.

I recently read a magazine article titled "A Veteran Remembers." America, vol. 193, issue no. 3, pp. 15-18., August 1-8, 2005. The article was written by James R. Conroy who was a second lietenant (he later became a Jesuit priest) and I was struck by how his description of Vietnam parallelled in many respects my own experiences. Although our experiences were not exactly the same (I was in an armored unit, participated in the Cambodia incursion, etc.) his words captured many of my feelings and struggles while there and rekindled a sense of the place for me.

A couple of things he said in this article stand out for me.

"...to the men and women who are serving or who have served in Iraq and their families. My experience showed me that it is hard to overestimate the long-term effect of being involved in war. The emotional and affective violence that touches you when men and women next to you are killed or badly wounded is devastating. The violent rupture of relationship is an unnatural and disorienting experience. It is no less troubling to realize that you have killed another human being."

I feel fortunate that I did not (I believe) suffer any obvious debilitating effects from what I saw, or did...I was always this screwed up! I am, however, amazed at how I escaped serious physical injury. I remember on one occasion, for example, hearing a mortar being launched by the enemy (you could hear its distinctive pop sound), looking up and actually seeing the mortar round coming down toward me. To my amazement, the mortar did not explode...lodging in the ground a couple of feet away from where I was standing. Another time I remember being with a group of other officers and having the group "fragged," which in Vietnam usually meant having a hand grenade tossed at officers by a disgrundled enlisted man. Just another survival story for me.

In another part of the article, the author said:

"My 15 years of silence after the Vietnam war hurt me. Many Vietnam vertans remain lost, angry and confused because of their role in a war they did not understand and that their fellow Americans did not appreciate." "Even messy and undigested conversation is preferable to letting the experience brood."

I didn't talk much about my experiences, however, I think part of the key in my case was that I didn't seem to accept any negativity from people I didn't know. "Americans" for me were somewhat abstract . People that I cared about were wonderful and frankly didn't ask me much about my experiences. I recall coming back through the San Francisco Airport on my return from Vietnam and having a hippie type hock a louie at me...so much for warm welcomes. I just didn't care what he/they thought.

The author said, "I no longer feel guilty that friends of mine died that night, while I lived."

Me neither.