Every Memorial Day I have a conversation with a long-time friend. Although he gave his life for his country in Cambodia in 1970, he has continued to teach me something every time we talk.
We were just snot-nosed kids back in the 'hood when we use to play "army". Back then the enemy was the "nazzies". They were just shadows we had learned from our father's that had experienced war first hand. And we shot and killed each other hundreds of times.
I remember when his kid sister told me he had been drafted. I couldn't make it over the fence quick enough to talk to him. My big question was "Are you gonna go?" There were other options back then. He decided to "go".
And he went; at first a little reluctantly I think. But some time home after his AIT proved that he had accepted his role as a soldier and was willing to do what soldiers do. We gave him a big farewell. Our plans of opening a bar and being rich by the time we were twenty-five would have to wait. That was the last time I saw him.
Over the years I talk to him and let him know how the life he missed is going. I've had to tell him his little sister married the jerk he hated, is divorced now and attends meetings regularly. I've had to tell him twice one of his parents had passed. I had to tell him our old woods was dozed for a development. I've kept him up on everything that he would have been a part of if he hadn't have been called on for the ultimate sacrifice.
Over the years I've learned a great deal from him. For the first five or so years, I was sad that he was missing so much of a good life here at home. He taught me that sorrow is merely a great love with no recipient. After that I was angry with his "senseless death". He taught me while one death may seem senseless, it is a part of larger process, necessary for the freedom we enjoy here at home. After that I wondered if he felt cheated. All these years he could have been around with his kids and grand-kids. I cried for him at both his parent's funerals and resented the fact he couldn't be there.
And now in the autumn of our 'time' we talk about who's left this Earth and who's still here. We talk about things that have been worth it, and things that weren't so profitable. We talk about the love and joy that only friends and family can provide. We talk about how short a trip it seems since he got on a bus headed for Ft. Polk, LA.
His mark on this world has continued well past his death. He has continued to school me just like he use to when we were kids. Although he physically hasn't been here, he has been in our hearts. His sacrifice seemed so finite 45 years ago. Only now am I able to understand exactly how huge it was.
Thank you, Jimmy. We will always remember you.
I seem to have dust in both my eyes.....Well said sir.
As fine a tribute as I have ever heard, and I am sure that he heard it too.
"To Old Friends, Gone, but NOT Forgotten", nor will they ever be.
Perhaps, one day, everyone will understand just how special the Viet Nam vets truly are. They followed in the traditions of their fathers, but without the support of those back home. Jane Fonda can still kiss my azz.
:good: :good: :good: :good: And an extra :good: for Fonda kissing your azz.
I visited Vietnam several times from 2005-2009.
The 58,000 who did not return - most of them drafted, many volunteers - along the with 200,000 pro-democracy South Vietnamese made a lasting difference and did not die in vain. If anything, the French influence has been deliberately erased and forgotten, and the American message has been preserved, even if not the official Party policy.
Communism as an economic policy lasted only 10 years in the unified Vietnam, even after 30 years of fighting the French, Americans and South Vietnamese to achieve that one party state. In 1985, Vietnam officially converted to a market based economy, joining the US as a trading partner and becoming the latest member of the world trade organization. Even the government had to admit that its "Subsidence Economy" resulted only in mass starvation due to lack of rice, in a country that is essentially made of rice. And, the mass exodus by hundreds of thousands of citizens, illegally, could not be officially ignored. It was obvious that most of the citizens would rather take their chances floating across the Pacific in a small boat rather than live under communist rule. The sacrifice made by US soldiers is honored, even if quietly for fear of their own government, by many.
ww CO PLS
I have conversations with Ivan, much like yours with Jimmy. We made up half of our First Grade class and the entirety of our Second Grade class as well as two-thirds of our Third Grade class. Ivan was a Marine. He was one of those guys who ended up in the most hellish locations in Viet Nam routinely. Somehow he went through all of that and survived. But, he brought demons home with him. He was a completely different person when he returned. One Sunday morning a few years later he, in his car, and a freight train attempted to occupy the exact same space at the same time. He left a widow and a couple of young children.
We have long chats from time to time.
Thank you Mr. Cash - that was simply beautiful...
Paden,
I have a similar relationship with an old friend. Patrick and I were HS friends and did a lot of wild stuff together. He was a year older than me. Innately, Patrick was a very spiritual and peace loving kid. I can tell many stories of our romps and some of the spontaneous antics that he would do on a whim.
Upon graduation from H.S, he decided to enlist in the USMC. It made me mad because I knew that he was just trying to have a big change in his life. He had applied to Columbia Univ. in NYC but was not accepted. Later, it was discovered that the HS guidance person screwed up by not getting his transcripts sent to Columbia. I told him how pissed off that I was about his enlistment. My brother was in the USMC at the time after dropping out of St Johns Univ to enlist with friends.
He died at Khe Sanh on Good Friday in the spring of 68 during the Tet offensive. It was listed as a mortar attack. I have visited the Wall in DC to laws remember him. I took my son along.
During my life in some of my darkest times of despair, he has visited me with a reassuring talk. I listen. I remember once that he was driving a nice convertible with the top down on a beautiful day with his big smile. His fearless smile.
Recently, I learned that he was killed instantly by a friendly fire short round of white phosphorous while digging in for the night establishing a perimeter at Khe Sanh. He was the only casualty in the hole. He died instantly. It took 43 years for that to become known.
Every Good Friday, I think of him more than anything else.
Robert
My buddy Jimmy comes to me at times that I'm convinced are not of my making. It's a weird thing, but I've grown use to it over the years. I spent a long time never really telling anybody about how he seemed to pop into my head at times. He was a casualty of enemy mortar fire. I've asked him several times if "it hurt" when he left. He just laughs.
About four or five years after his death his parent's house caught on fire and his sister was the only one in the house, asleep. Her story was that Jimmy woke her up by knocking on her door and hollering for her to get out. She did. She was truly freaked about that for a number of years.
I never told her I still talked with him.
