Vietnam: Arriving at the Truth: by Byron Edgington

Byron's UH-1 Huey

The view in the photo is from the cockpit of my UH-1, Huey, taken sometime in September 1970 in northern I Corps.

The photo shows American combat troops approaching a Huey that will fly them to another location. 

Not seen in this shot are troops loading my helicopter in similar fashion, directly behind me as the picture was taken.

A new website created by the Pentagon has a view of the war as well. Put on line several months ago, at a cost (thus far) of $15 million, the website strives to arrive at the 'truth' of American involvement in Vietnam, not from a political or ideological perspective, but to “assist a grateful nation” in thanking veterans and their families.

I applaud any effort to arrive at truth concerning our involvement in any war. The fact that the effort is being made is a hopeful sign that we refuse to bury details, however sordid, of our nation's foreign affairs and that we try not to repeat mistakes. 

I applaud, as well, the focus of the website, if it does indeed target American troops rather than the political minions, populists and military operatives who made many of the mistakes associated with Vietnam and our conflict there.

What bothers me about the website effort and its attempt to arrive at 'truth' about Vietnam, is the genesis of it. The troops the site celebrates should write their own stories of Vietnam, without fear or favor, and allow visitors to come to conclusions based on those narratives. 

As it is, the Pentagon and such luminaries as Tom Hayden and others are weighing in on the American effort in Vietnam, and once again the voices of those who fought and died in the paddies, jungles and hamlets of Vietnam.  Those critical voices are being relegated to the periphery.

Also, a connection should be made, however tenuous, to our efforts in Vietnam and the misadventure in Iraq. While it is true that any effort to connect the two conflicts is immediately fraught with political and ideological spin, that doesn't mean we should avoid potential historical references. 

Those connections may help in a courageous and transparent attempt to arrive at the 'truth' we claim to seek. Looking out a cockpit window shows only a partial view. History and its explication widens that view, if we're willing to look.

Byron Edgington

Byron Edgington

The SkyWriter

Website
Blog
Byron's Book

Other Articles by Byron Edgington:

Do Guns Equal Safety?
Laotian Rescue Mission
Ho Chi Minh
Terror and Hilarity
A Return to Vietnam
The War That Will Not Let Us Rest
War: A Waste of Youth
The Right Seat is the Wrong Seat
Jim, Frank, and The Snake
Smokey, The Alcoholic Pup

“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.

Veterans Day: Tuesday, November 11, 2014

Honoring Veterans, Past and Present

While many realize that Veterans Day, which always falls on November 11, is a day to honor our Veterans, there are still a few who do not realize the historical significance behind the day. 

Veterans Day originated as Armistice Day and marked the end of hostilities of World War I that occurred at the 11th hour on the 11th day of the 11th month. 

Therefore, the day is always recognized on November 11th, regardless of the day of the week the 11th falls on.

In 1919, President Wilson commemorated the first Armistice Day with these words:

"To us in America, the reflections of Armistice Day will be filled with solemn pride in the heroism of those who died in the country's service and with gratitude for the victory, both because of the thing from which it has freed us and because of the opportunity it has given America to show her sympathy with peace and justice in the councils of the nations..."

The day was originally set aside to honor the Veterans of World War I with a day of parades and remembrances as well as a pause in activities at 11am on the day.

In 1938, it was made a legal federal holiday for all.

However, after World War II and the Korean War, Congress recognized a need to expand the meaning of the day to recognize all of our Veterans and not just those of World War I.

In 1954, the word "Armistice" was replaced with "Veterans" as a way to formally include all Veterans of all American wars on this day of national remembrance.

Today, Veterans Day is a federal holiday which many cities celebrate with parades and ceremonies.

In Washington, D.C., there are ceremonies throughout the city including a wreath laying at Arlington National Cemetery.

Veterans Day is a day not only to remember those who died in service to our country, but also to recognize those who continue to serve today.

With grateful appreciation …

2014 Veterans Day Free Meals, Discounts, Sales & Deals

“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.

Combat PTSD and More: by Lawrence (WarHippy) Blouir

PTSD - A Wound of War

COMBAT PTSD, Recurring Nightmares, Survivor's Guilt, Lions and Sappers and Gooks, OH MY!  

How the Wizard gave me the courage to FIGHT BACK and WIN.

I know it's a long title, but I'll bet I got your attention.

This is my story, and only my story, but my nightly trips back to the Nam nowadays are for vengeance, not horrors of the past, and you might learn something important, so keep reading, PLEASE!  Cuz I want you to survive, too.

I signed up and was accepted into a three-month in-patient Combat PTSD Program in 1993. There were eight guys in a locked ward, so nobody could run away and give up.

We were all raging with PTSD symptoms, so you can just imagine how a lot of the nights went after lights out and we all went back in our minds to the horrors we witnessed in the Nam.

Many nights, one of the guys would startle himself awake violently and trigger other guys to do the same.  It was insane.  The people who took care of us had to be Saints with very big balls, cuz we were younger then and sometimes woke still in the Nam fighting for our lives, and anything that moved was the enemy. They did whatever it took to bring us down and back to reality.

Daytime was better, but not without its incidents.  We were RAGE-driven Vets and many times, the dining room, meeting room, or the day room would get completely wasted, but we retained enough self-control that we never hurt each other, or the cadre assigned to "babysit" us. Yes, sometimes they were just there to make sure we behaved and played well together.

NIGHTMARES:

Here is the technique that was suggested.  I followed it and it worked for me:

Keep a journal beside your bed.  The very first thing you do when you regain your senses after waking from a nightmare is write about it. Write every little detail you can remember, because the little details are very important.  They fade from your memory very quickly after you wake.

Most guys have one recurring nightmare that haunts them constantly. Write about it.  Never mind how many times you've already written about it, write it down and read it every day.

Look for important events that recur all the time, or the BIG BANG, that startles you awake in a pool of sweat, shaking. (I'm assuming that you're sober and in a combat PTSD group).

If the facilitator isn't smart enough to set aside time to talk about nightmares, suggest it to him. Go around the room and check in. Share the worst part of your nightmare and have the group discuss each person's personal hell.

My personal hell would always start on a bunker.  The gooks were attacking in waves, BUT I WAS THE ONLY ONE DEFENDING THE WHOLE BUNKER LINE!

I'd blow the claymores, blow the fu gas, then grab the 60 and spray the remaining gooks that were still coming.  Then I'd notice they were about to overrun the next bunker, so I'd jump down and haul ass to that one, blow the claymores and fu gas, grab the 60 and fire it, until I noticed the next bunker.
This seemed to continue forever, until I'd startle myself awake.  I was shaking, in a pool of sweat, most of the time crying, because I'd done the best I could, but I still couldn't save my buddies from the gooks.

That last line was the key to defeating the dream that had eaten my lunch for over 20 years. It wasn't my job to save everybody. We were a team.  We worked together to save each other.

In my nightmare, I was assigning myself a task that even John Wayne couldn't have pulled off. When my group finally made me see the no-win scenario I put myself in every night, the nightmare stopped.

I still go back to the Nam a lot at night, but it's a dream now, not a nightmare.  I'm a platoon sergeant, and I know my shit, and I'm at Travis air force base loading my men onto a bird headed back to the Nam.  This time, we're gonna finish this shit.  The funny part is, I'm still carrying the same "pig" I was firing from the bunkers in my nightmare.

My point in this whole article is, you don't have to let a nightmare control your life. You do have the power to make it go away.

YOU ARE A SURVIVOR!  So, Survive!

WarHippy - Lawrence Blouir

Lawrence "WarHippy" Blouir
MOS 63B20 Wheeled Vehicle Mechanic
1st Cavalry Division (AIRMOBILE)
8th Engineer Battalion
1st Air Cavalry Division
24th Duster Battalion
24th Corp Artillery
23rd MP Co.
23rd Infantry Division
Vietnam ’69, ’70, ‘71
The First Team

Bronze Star Medal
Air Medal
Army Commendation Medal

Other Articles by Lawrence (WarHippy) Blouir:

Drugs and The American Soldier in Vietnam
A Worthy Rebuttal on REMFs
The Ultimate Cost of "Freedom"
Memorial Day: The Changes Through Life
A Vietnam Veteran Speaks Out


“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.

A Flag’s Declaration: by Doyle Watters

Betsy Ross and George Washington

A Flag’s Declaration

My nickname is Old Glory I’ve existed for over two hundred years.
The Star Spangled Banner described my story well at its creation.
Only I have observed every moment, from beginning to present.
The Boston Massacre marked the first casualty of our revolution.
A witness to blood, death and destruction beyond comprehension.
Duty, honor and country have remained foremost in my existence.
I embrace the wind and enshroud the spirits of those fallen for freedom. 

I am not merely a piece of cloth, I stand for liberty and justice. 

Red, White and Blue are my colors, chosen by my forefathers.
Valor and sacrifice, purity and innocence are woven into my stripes.
Vigilance, perseverance and justice lay deep in my bosom of blue.
Freedom of speech, religion and the press are my birthright.
These principles of the common man can make a nation great. 

My history is very young when compared to others. 

I have seen the brave generations of timeless defenders.
Those willing to sacrifice for a cause they might not be able to realize.
To this day my soldiers continue to overcome adversities at will.
Through suffering and death they pledge utmost loyalty and trust.
With the grave knowledge that war consumes souls and haunts spirits.

Those who carry me into battle best understand the price paid. 

Draping the caskets of my youth, I am aware of freedom’s cost.
Disrespected by world citizens, I fervently offer respite from tyranny.
I shall not waver, for I keep a watchful eye on that which surrounds me.
My strength can not be destroyed for it lies in the hearts of my people.
Peace is all I strive to accomplish, as history continues its march. 

I ask that you honor, respect and be faithful to me in times of uncertainty.

Never be afraid of expressing your love for me openly and willingly.
Think of those that made your freedom a reality, the Veterans of America.
In return I will be a symbol, letting mankind know democracy lives.
I’ll be strong when faced with calamity, offering solidarity for peace.
I am an idea, a physical entity representing hope, opportunity and freedom.

CSM Doyle Watters 

Vietnam Veteran
US Army Retired

Other Articles by Doyle Watters

Sharing the Burden, Vet to Vet

Saving Tears

The Defender

“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 feel comfortable sharing. Memoirs From Nam is YOUR blog. You are writing America's history, sharing the truth about the Vietnam veteran, and what it was like in Our War.

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:

A Nation Unwilling to Change

“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.

It Don't Mean Nuthin': by Gary Jacobson

"It Don't Mean Nuthin'" ...

It Don't Mean Nuthin'

by Gary Jacobson © 2003

“It Don’t Mean Nuthin’”
A phrase oft repeated in Vietnam, worn paper thin
By soldiers used an awful lot
When it’s gettin’ bricky hot...
Under pressure with lives on the line
Melancholy existence on a definite decline.

“It Don’t Mean Nuthin’, they say”
Turning stone-faced from fears to walk away
As though something's stolen part of their soul
Left no way sorrow's grief to console
Led too far astray in hell's battles darkning gray
Forever boyhood humanity to betray...
Staggering memories stored way down deep on the pile
Hidden from the light of day...for awhile!
"But It Don’t Mean Nuthin’"

It Don’t Mean Nuthin’
He says, when things happen that mean plenty
To tough combat grunt gentry
As things in war too often do...
Boiling over in Nam's killing zone damps and dew
Not able to face it
Not now...
Too painful to think about it
Not now...
So forget about it...
Bag it
Take this shit and shove it
Nuthin’ I do or say makes any difference anyway
So put it on the back burner till another day
Pretend it didn't happen
Cause “It Don’t Mean Nuthin’”

It Don’t Mean Nuthin’
Means he couldn’t handle it that day
So he walked away
Fraught with a lonely stare of dismay
Repressed it...denied it
Sick of it...belied it
Pushed it down somewhere in the back of reality
Crammed down a crack of the last vestige of sanity
Lost in the context of where he was going
In order to go on doing what he was doing
Heartsick from unbearably painful sights
Took that next step away from unthinkable afterthoughts.

"It Don't Mean Nuthin'" ...

It Don’t Mean Nuthin’
He says, when the world seems so unfair
In a world of unimaginable danger a very soul will unbare
Ordered to walk point again
Durn...
And it wasn’t even his turn
A shock
Load and lock
Go forth, yours but this violence to pursue
Go forth, as fears in the shadows ensue
Ordered to hump into the heart of the gloom
Dead weight on your shoulders of impending doom
In an alien, unknown war virtually alone
Without a love of his own.

It Don’t Mean Nuthin’
Cause nobody cares if you don’t want to
Never quite ready are you
For dedicated men constantly trying to kill you
Preoccupied with your dying
In wait for you lying...
Here, there, along jungled treeline
Prone behind that entangled vine
Just off the trail in a ditch's rocky incline
Go, dive deeply into this living nightmare impacted
By some politician back home patriotically advocated
Cause “It Don’t Mean Nuthin’”

A kid begging for candy has a grenade strapped to his back...
It Don’t Mean Nuthin’
When you kill your first man...
“It Don’t Mean Nuthin’”
Forever haunted by the last look in his eye...
“It Don’t Mean Nuthin’”
Receiving a “Dear John” from your girl, diamond ring inside...
It Don’t Mean Nuthin’
Tormented by water, leaches, footrot up to my thigh
It Don’t Mean Nuthin’
You didn’t want to live forever, did you?
Cause "It Don’t Mean Nuthin’”

"It Don't Mean Nuthin'" ...

No one back home can ever understand

Not even begin to comprehend
Feeling hot, sticky blood On your hand
Blood of your enemy
Paying dear for his tyranny
Or is it your own blood...maybe your buddy?
“It Don’t Mean Nuthin’”

You cry out in a primal scream of despair...
Welling inside voice a swear
“Where, dammit, where
In this fetid land is hope?"
Principled men, good men, find it so hard to cope...
But when in still silence comes momentary lull in the fray
Nestles a tear in the tough guy’s eye that day...
“But It Don’t Mean Nuthin’”

It Don’t Mean Nuthin’
When your best buddy...
On the narrow banks of rice paddy muddy
Your brother in arms
Steps on a land-mine in this world of harms
And as they do every blasted time in this festering hole
That mine blew a hole in his soul...
He lost his leg...
Hear him screaming for his mother beg...
Bloody and torn...
Lost and forlorn...
Hear him as like a baby he cries
Hear his last gurgling cry before he dies
Hold him as he lost his life...
Who’ll tell his wife
“It Don’t Mean Nuthin’”

Calmly wash the blood off your hands
Now lonelier in these alien lands
Yours but to bite the bullet...and go on
Now your brother’s bloodied and gone
To a far-off soldier’s hell for Nam's sins to atone
Leaving you to pick up the pieces...
Fighting hard to keep from going to pieces...
“An It Don’t Mean Nuthin’ you say”
As you slump to the ground to pray...
End of subject...
You say, with lowly feelings abject
“It Don’t Mean Nuthin’”
Repeating a phrase growing increasingly thin.

You feel the horrors eating at you so bad
Yet, know you can’t afford feeling so sad
You've still got to keep your head about you
Raise beleaguered eyes to go on and do
For when being alert “is” life or death important...
You cannot relent.
Put away thoughts welling from soul depths cruddy
Wearing you down like a liquor besotted toddy
Can't afford thinking of your buddy
With the far away eyes
There's no time for grieving those mindless sighs
Just put him into that body bag filled with his agonies
“Cause It Don’t Mean Nuthin’”

"It Don't Mean Nuthin'" ...

There's no time to cure an unbelieving stare
Malevolently looking to the forests to dare
Carry him to the medevac dustoff...
You'll go insane unless the memory you blowoff...
With every fiber of your deep down being loving him
Wishing there was something more you could do for him
Feeling guilty...
In the war’s greatest travesty...
Trying not to cry
why wasn’t it you had to die...
“God...it Don’t Mean Nuthin’”

“Say it don’t Mean Nuthin’”
And just turn and walk away
When you just can’t handle it till some other day
Some far off day...
Only another vet can understand
Only another vet can comprehend
One who’s walked the rim of the last mile
One who says he never again will smile
Spending time still searching "the park"
From dawn till dark
Bravado belying the fateful tear
Hiding deep down inside his fear
Death's specter still hovering gruesome near
Into the valley of the shadow I shall not fear
Cause "It Don’t Mean Nuthin’”

You didn’t want to be the one from the medevac
To turn your back
Face the creeping forest motley black...
Just turn and walk away
Back into the heat of deadly fray
Back where people try to kill you
You don’t plan to live forever, do you?
You know it’s now your turn to bleed
Plant in Vietnam your precious seed...
“But It Don’t Mean Nuthin’.”

Now when you hear vets say, “It Don’t Mean Nuthin’”
Just know...it means Everything!

Gary Jacobson - The Vietnam Bard

Gary Jacobson

"The Vietnam Bard"

1st platoon, B Co 2nd/7th 1st Air Cavalry 

Vietnam '66 - '67

Other Posts by Gary Jacobson

A Shau Ripcord

My Vietnam Story







“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.