Here's the way it struck me,
along with a few photographs of my encounters with local people in Vietnam,
1971-72.
_____
Four years in the Army. If
I'd truly given of myself the words 'Thank-you' would be welcome. Nothing beats
hearing thank-you for a sincere and meaningful gift.
Why did I volunteer for
Vietnam? There may have been a touch of nobility or sacrifice among my motives.
But mainly an adventurous pulse beat within me then. I heard tribal voices calling
in the haze. It was my life's chance to rub shoulders with war.
"Possibilities of a hat" |
Airborne School was a
hard-earned lark. At Ranger School I was resourceful enough to match up with
tough training. I stuck bayonets into straw dummies screaming "Kill, kill,
kill!!!" The classmates who really understood were combat veterans.
There were other things I
didn't grasp. I had only a dim awareness of the currents of myth and
entitlement that underlie national as well as personal destiny. I remember
looking back toward America from an Asian shore wondering if this entire history
had happened to teach me something.
"Scholar" |
It was my third time living
in Southeast Asia. My Dad had been military attaché to Burma during my teen
years. Then the posting to a young man's paradise, for seaport construction in
rural Thailand. Now to the capital of French Indo-China, the Pearl of the
Orient - in turmoil.
"Weighing Peppers" |
"Two Buddies" |
I figure I had protection,
perhaps the protection of innocence. Sometimes you shouldn't look down.
The first time I reported for
night duty officer I tried to load bullets into the .45 cal pistol worn on
security patrols. My hands shook with the sudden clarity of what that gun was
for. I threw the ammo clip back into the drawer, strapped on the pistol and
went out into the night. I never carried a loaded weapon that year.
Yes, it was a year of
innocence in the sense of not provoking a bee hive into attack. In other ways,
not innocent at all. I tried hard to support the war effort with good
intelligence studies. I relished a pat on the back from senior officers. I
regarded field grunts as tainted by blood on their hands.
I came home unscathed,
untroubled except by those shadows of self-discovery and judgment.
"Funeral music" |
I've added my voice and my
photographs to the peace movement since 1972. I've pondered the sometimes
gratuitous gesture "Thank you for your service." The wars keep on
coming.
People want to connect. Many
have profound ambivalence, sorrow, confusion about the wars. Maybe they feel
guilt. Maybe they understand there's a terrible price for war and its damage to
participants on all sides. Maybe they hope to separate the warrior from the
war. They offer "Thank you for your service." Maybe they're lock-step
patriots.
I don't presume to know the burdens of combat
vets any more than the average person who says "Thank you for your
service." But by surviving they may have gained enviable fraternity with their
brothers. They deserve a special chance to share in all the fruits of life
available to their fellow citizens.
With Veterans for Peace protesting the troop surge in
Afghanistan
at The White House, December 2010
|
Great read.. ty for sharing
ReplyDeleteMartin - you are a treasure. Truly.
ReplyDeleteThank you for these thoughtful reflections.
ReplyDelete