A war. A Father and a son. Some guy in the grocery store

[liberalhistorian]

9. My uncle, one of my dad's brothers,

served two tours as a marine in Vietnam. He returned physically fine and seemingly okay emotionally and psychologically, although my grandmother told of times when she would go to wake him up and he'd jump up and grab her by the throat while he was still asleep, and similar incidents. He married and raised a stable, well-adjusted family. He was still fun to be around. But he never, ever talked about it, not even to his wife, according to her, for at least ten years after his return. Even then, he had to be prodded. There were only two times I ever discussed it with him.

The first was when I was a senior in high school and writing a research paper on Vietnam veterans, their war experiences and how they differed from WWII experiences, and their re-integration into society (or not, as the case may be) and the issues involved; this was in 1983, about fourteen years after the end of his service. I wanted him to review the draft of the paper but was hesitant about asking him, as I'd never, ever talked about it with him or heard him even mention it. His wife, my aunt, asked him for me and he reluctantly agreed. He actually made corrections and gave some good suggestions.

The second time was ten years ago, when my then-twelve-year-old son and I were in D.C. and I'd taken him to see the Vietnam Memorial, which I'd already seen myself several times. Someone in the family had told him about it (probably my dad or my aunt) and when I saw him at the family Christmas gathering he actually asked me about it. I'd never brought it up with him before after the previous times I'd seen it. This time, he wanted to know everything about it. I showed him our pictures and, when he asked how people could find specific names, I told him about the system that had been set up to do so. I described reading the "book" of names and locations and how emotional it was to see a name, a birth-date, the date of arrival in country and then the KIA date. It all seemed so cut and dry and matter of fact, when each one was a real life, with a real family and friends and interests and hobbies and jobs and uniqueness and the birth-date had symbolized such life and promise.

He looked at me for a moment and then quietly asked "what did you expect them to do? Pretty it up with drawings of hearts and flowers? Just what did you think war was and is?" And he was absolutely correct. He'd always wanted to see the memorial and I'd thought it would be nice to take him one day to do so and thought we'd have plenty of time. After all, at that time, he wasn't quite even sixty years old yet. But he developed Alzheimer's in only his early sixties and is now institutionalized in the last stages of it, no longer recognizing anyone, not even his own wife and children (his deterioration happened rather quickly). We wonder if his war experiences and exposure to Agent Orange and other chemicals had anything to do with it. I guess we'll never know for sure. What's sad is that he is now re-living his Vietnam experiences and there are plenty of times when he wakes up thinking he is currently there.

Every other veteran I've ever known, from WWII to Korea to Vietnam, has been similarly close-mouthed, only mentioning it in (usually rather grudging) responses to questions asked of them. Some will wear a hat once in awhile, but not often. I may not have ever been a veteran or ever come close to anything remotely resembling their experiences (and I am a woman, after all), but I do totally understand such quietness and reluctance. The only thing I have to say about that, though, is that I think it's really important to get the soldier's side of things and their experiences and not just hear it from the top brass and top leadership.