Hindsight of the Years Unspoken

At the age of 66, in reflection I’ve had mixed thoughts about those months I spent in Vietnam. They span the rainbow of emotions. Interestingly, though I cannot recall some of the other recollections of my life, most of those from those months from October 1969 to about April of 1971 seem to be etched in the most undying synapses of my mind. 

The first six months were spent in actual combat as a ‘grunt’; spent in the jungles, mountains and rice paddies of the northern part of South Vietnam. I served with First Battalion, Forty-Sixth Infantry, One Ninety-Sixth Light Infantry Brigade, Americal Division, working the difficult terrain off of a firebase by the name of LZ (Landing Zone) Professional in the Central Highlands of then South Vietnam. 

For a nineteen year old who was just becoming an adult, those months provided a unique range of human experiences I would never have thought a possibility a few years earlier. From travel, to experiencing other soldiers from other lifestyles, values and cultures, and people and lives I had no idea existed; to fears, confrontation with your own values, to being faced with staying alive; it was one form of coming of age. 

From exhausting days with only two to maybe four hours of sleep, covering anywhere from two to fifteen ‘clicks’ (kilometers) of cutting through jungle vines and slippery hills, and of course trying to live through firefights and avoiding booby traps, mines, trip wires and ambushes; to being constantly soaking wet for months during monsoon season; we would eventually be so fatigued, so worn down, so numbed, so reduced of humanity.

The default shield from insanity was the comment we all adopted, and seemed to fit most circumstances, “It don’t mean nothin’.” Fatique, bizarre situations and emotional strain changes you. 

After a number of repetitive days, weeks and months of inconceivable circumstances, which very likely could end your life or well-being without notice, a strange form of absurdity becomes one form of defense against losing one’s sanity. 

Having to kill other human beings and see those around you torn-apart or die, are events that never leave you. 

Try as you may to dismiss them, justify them or even accept them as necessity, simply doesn’t stand any test of time and consciousness. 

To try and explain or share what it was like to be part of a war, in combat, with someone who has never experienced it, I don’t believe can be done.

We can talk or write about it, give quips or try to express the abuse of emotions needed; the sounds, smells, scenes and how even time seems to change, but they will never really know or comprehend the extremes it pushes you to. Some you never return from.