If you can imagine your 18-year-old son or daughter in the jungles of Vietnam ,today, 120 degrees in the day and 60s at night felt like you were freezing. What letters would you write knowing each day may be their last? I don’t see the number, but at least 10 percent of the soldiers killed weren’t from the enemy’s actions but from diseases, insects, and snakes. I wonder, in this new army, how would women hold up no baths for weeks and no privacy, not to mention the mental and emotional toll on the body and mind of all? The fights of words amongs soldiers were many and some fights that drew blood were few but if you added women< I wonder?

The loneliness by itself is a killer. If you can place yourself in your worst life position and multiply it by ten, it comes close to how I and others felt in Vietnam. If you add a firefight with death and destruction, the emotions sometimes become almost uncontrollable. I recall a practically indescribable emptiness and pain as men you ate with and loved were wounded or killed. If you have ever felt lost in your life, think of it as sometimes a daily or weekly thing that you have to deal with emotionally.

Are we raising our children to be pawns of useless wars? The leaders of our nation are they talking about peace or war? The greatness of leaders isn’t their victories in war, but their stance and perseverance for peace. Every man or woman belongs to someone, and every heartbeat that is gone has cost a family great pain.

Never underestimate the American soldier; even men that had no desire or want to become soldiers stood tall and fought as men. How do and why do men that know death or horrible wounds may await them still go into battle? I will never understand how I boarded a chopper, knowing that the end, maybe worse than death, awaited me in the coming minutes. I doubt I, as an older man, would have boarded choppers that took men to their deaths. The men I killed would have loved to see me stay away. Not all victories are “GODLY”; not all great wins make you proud, but life as a soldier sometimes is all you have. Remember, my life as an 18-.year old could have been one of yours.

Mothers tears

PS. A soldier died, one of many in my company, on 21 March 1968, his mother sent a letter to me because we were good friends, this is what the letter said.

Dear Richard, my son loved you so much that he talked about you being fearless and funny simultaneously. I can’t breathe as I write this letter; I hope you are still alive. I want to know how my son died, every detail not to be left out; I have to find some reason to say his death is for some good reason. His father and sister can no longer work or function, and all I do is cry. Please don’t think me to be asking too much; love and pray you are ok. Mom