"Sharing can be a way of healing. Grief and loss can isolate,
anger even alienate. Shared with others, emotions unite
as we see we aren't alone. We realize others weep with us."
~Susan Wittig Albert

Through our writing, we walk out of the darkness into the light
together, one small step at a time, recording history, educating
America, and we are healing.
~CJ/Todd Dierdorff



Showing posts with label stories of war. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stories of war. Show all posts

Sunday, November 2, 2014

A Fearful America: by Lance Pinamonte

Lance Pinamonte
I have been scared many times in my life and, in most cases, I have faced my fears.  There is a time to run, and a time to stand. 

Lately, I have noticed a very distinct pattern of fear in this nation.  Our media has spurred much of it and the politics of fear are raging like a fire..

Once after looking at my pictures of the Vietnam war, my grandson asked me if I was ever scared. I answered him, " Yes.  Only a fool was not."

I remember my father's words, when I asked him about his service in WW-2. "I crawled into my helmet and made myself as small as I could during the bombing raids in China."  

Let me tell you a good old war story.  Maybe that will get us back on track ...

I had very little time left in Vietnam (SHORT!), when I was sent to the 101st AB.  My flying days were over and I was to be stationed in a base camp called Camp Eagle and put onto a PE crew for a Cobra outfit. 

It was to be an easy assignment, at least compared to what I had already been through.  It would consist mostly of night PE's, and most of the time there were none. I really didn't care anymore.  Oh I did my job, and I did it well, but I was tired of the Army. I had seen too much. 

One night I reported to the hanger where I had to finish up a PE inspection.  Then I headed back to my hooch, crawled into my cot, pulled up my poncho liner, and went to sleep. 

I was sleeping pretty good when the rockets hit.  I was used to it, as I had been in so many attacks that it was normal to roll off my cot onto the floor and continue sleeping.  (Running to the bunkers usually got you killed). 

It was only few seconds later when suddenly a loud "WHOOMPH" hit the hooch.  There was dust everywhere and present was a sound I had not heard before. Opening my eyes and trying to make out what had happened brought me the horrific sight of a 2.75 rocket warhead only inches from my head!  It had penetrated the sandbags around the hooch.

In Country
When things wound down outside, I did a high-speed duck crawl to the nearest bunker. Later, I found out that a NVA rocket had hit the ammo dump for our outfit, sending our own rockets all over the camp. We lost the hanger as well as several aircraft..

Fear set in from then on.  I went into a mode I had seen before in many guys who had a short time left in country. Thing is, I had always laughed at them. 

I moved my cot to the local bunker, kept my weapon closer, and I was always looking over my shoulder. I continued this way until I thought I was going to go mad. 

Then I came to the realization, that anything I did had very little to do with the outcome, with fate.

Yeah, I would do my best to stay safe, but the rest would have to take care of itself.  I figured once I was back in the world, I would never be afraid again. That was some real bull also.  But that's a different story, for a different time.

So that brings me to today, with the media shouting Ebola, terrorists, healthcare, climate change, and political turmoil. It is the survivalist mentality taking a front seat to common sense. 

Everywhere, I see people willing to sacrifice personal freedom to be safe, willing to sacrifice our youth to wars that can last forever, willing to spend our tax dollars on a military machine that is 48 times that of the rest of the world. 

People are reacting, without educating themselves on the dangers, blindly following others who have no knowledge of the situation -- and the media and politicians are feeding on their reactions... 

So ask yourself, "What does fear do to common sense?" My answer to this type of fear is the fact that we have already lost, if we bend to every terrorist, disease, and tactic in this world. 

Real fear is looking at a un-exploded ordinance just inches from your face.  Real fear is standing in the freeway watching a semi trailer truck bearing down on you.  Real fear is NOT some talking head looking for reactions and ratings and talking trash ... 

I no longer fear for myself.  My fears include watching my wife fail, and the world I am leaving for my children's children. 

God bless America.

Lance

Lance L. Pinamonte
U.S. Army - 1967 to 1970
67N30 Crewchief/Doorgunner Helicopter Mech.
Champagne Flight


Also by Lance:






“I am only one, but I am one. I can't do everything, but I can do something. The something I ought to do, I can do, and by the grace of God, I will.” ~Everett Hale


Feel free to comment on this post. You are also invited to write about anything you want to share. Memoirs From Nam is YOUR blog. You are writing America's history.

Send it to me in an e-mail and I will be proud to post it for you.


Wednesday, April 2, 2014

Tears of a Warrior

by John Norwood
Retired USAF CM Sgt.
Aircraft Flight Engineer

A man of eighteen years, barely dry behind the ears, hears Uncle Sam’s call.  In eight short weeks, the change is as radical as a caterpillar becoming a butterfly -- only this change has no beauty to it. The young boy is transformed into a soldier, an instrument of war.

The days of taking his girl to lover’s leap and skipping class to go fishing are all gone. He is thrust into a world of violence against his fellow man. He begins to see the ravages of war. He learns to kill, not for sport or food, but for territory and ideals. He learns these skills with dedication and without question, because he is doing what he is ordered to do.

Suddenly he is thrust into a world of pain, death, blood and pure fear. He sees things that no amount of education, or training, prepared him for. 

His friends are now few and close, yet distant, because getting too close will cause pain when that friend is no longer there. The cold, damp, heat, and loneliness become his constant companion. At times he tries to deaden the pain with booze. He fights with himself, trying to bury what he sees. He does his job without emotion, knowing if he feels, he’ll go nuts.

Then suddenly it’s all over.  He sheds his uniform and finds himself back on Main Street USA. When he sees his old schoolmates, he finds he no longer has anything in common with them. He cannot talk about his experiences because they won’t understand. His youth was robbed from him and he no longer trusts those around him with the ease he once did.

He has wounds you cannot see; not wounds of the body, but wounds of the soul, mind and spirit.  No one can see them. No one can see the scars. 

He drifts back to a time when he felt the pain for real. He seeks out answers he cannot find. At times he feels out of control and tries to find anything he believes will give him control, like booze and drugs, or he buries himself in work to the point of exhaustion.

He withdraws from relationships for fear of loss. He rejects authority for authority brought him harm in the past. He feels alone in a world that doesn’t seem to care. He hurts, but no one can see the wounds; no one hears his cries for help. He is judged by what others can only see on the surface. 

They don’t see the Unseen Wounds. They don’t hear his silent cries.  All he can do is ask, “Why can’t you see what this has done to me?”


“I am only one, but I am one. I can't do everything, but I can do something. The something I ought to do, I can do, and by the grace of God, I will.” ~Everett Hale

Wednesday, March 26, 2014

Healing Old Wounds


**Please Share This Post**

To all Vietnam and other veterans, their families and friends:  Sharing can be a way of healing. Grief and loss can isolate, anger even alienate. Shared with others, our emotions unite us, as we see we aren't alone.  We realize others weep with us.

[Douglas Scott Kempf - KIA September 5, 1969]

As a (1969) Vietnam War widow, it is my wish to provide a healing place where you can write about anything you want. You have the truths America should hear.  The “Memoirs From Nam” blog was created for that very purpose. 

Come and visit.  Read what so many others have already shared.  I encourage you to share your own stories and email them to me with “Stories from Nam” in the subject line:   cjheck60porsche@gmail.com.   

I'll be waiting to hear from you.   Memoirs From Nam Blog


“I am only one, but I am one. I can't do everything, but I can do something. The something I ought to do, I can do, and by the grace of God, I will.” ~Everett Hale

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