Life Prepared Me for Vietnam

Michael Lansford

by Michael Lansford

Things I learned during my whole life as I grew up are what I told you amazingly trained me for Vietnam, even before the war existed.

When I was a child my Dad was a Pipeliner. We followed the lines wherever they went, living in a small trailer until I was ten. We moved all over from Texas, to New Mexico, to Colorado, and Arizona. The hard part about all that was, I never stayed in one school long enough to have friends, as I knew we wouldn't be there long.  One year I went to six different schools. The only home I knew was our trailer, so to speak.

Now this part is not meant to disrespect my parents, but they drank constantly. Naturally, alcohol brought out the mean side of it all and I was the only outlet. I spent many a night in a booth in a bar, the back seat of car, on the floor, and at times home alone. I was too young to know anything else. In all fairness to my parents, I was angry at all they did, for many years later in life. Then my Aunt explained why, that it was an illness.

Then I learned from my grandmother after dad died, and it became very clear, what all he faced in the Pacific in the war. Drinking probably was his only outlet for all that happened to him and no one ever knew about it. After seeing documentaries about the Pacific, I understood it all. I had been wrong to judge.

Anyway, we moved to a ranch up in the left corner of New Mexico for about 4-5 years. I was left there while my family followed the pipelines farther away. I was in second grade. The people who owned it came out there in 1917 and fenced off 6000 acres. Their name was Schmidt, I think.

Everything was like in the cowboy days, no creature comforts. Every day you worked to survive, planting crops, raising cattle and horses, always prepared for winter and anything that may happen. 

The school I went to was so far in the mountains that the only way to get there was by horse. There were two rooms at the school. Each room had six rows and each row was a grade.  For me it was the great cowboy adventure. 

We lived by the Navajo Reservation and the native Americans there took a liking to me. They taught me how to track, hunt, survive, and how to live off the land.  I even got to stay with them lots of times. They taught me so much, which paid dividends when I grew up and went off to war. I became one of them, even knowing I was part Cherokee. They taught me how to shoot with one shot.  If you missed, you didn't eat.  Ammo wasn't very handy out there. 

The place I lived was officially called Ohito, (or Ojito), New Mexico.  The closest neighbor was 17 miles away. If we went anywhere, it was on horseback or we hitched up the wagon. If you got hurt, you had to be able to fix yourself -- stop the bleeding, stitch up wounds, and there was no anesthetic around. 

I remember one time coming home from school on the paint I rode and a bad storm was coming in, and I mean bad.  Up in the mountains, you just didn't get caught out in bad weather.  I used all I was taught to survive, and I was only seven years old at the time. 

I found an overhang in a mountain pass and built a little shelter for me and my horse to keep the snow out. We were there for three days and nights. I had to dig out of the snow.

The best thing was the horse I had. As the old rancher always told me, if I ever got lost or something happened, just let the reigns hang down and he would find his way home -- just don't let go of the reigns, because he won't stop for you. It worked. As hard as it all was, it prepared me for my life later on. 

Well, as I grew older, my parents took me down to the beach where my Aunt lived and they left me there, so I could have some stability in my life, instead of always being on the move.  I was ten by then. I felt resentment for a long time, thinking I was left behind and unloved.

But I learned many years later that my Aunt adopted me, so just in case something happened to me, I could be taken care of. Knowing that made a difference as all I ever knew growing up was rejection and being left alone and left behind.

At the beach, the principal crop was rice. There were rice fields everywhere. I walked most of them, worked some, hunted in them all for our winter food, ducks and geese. We trapped around all the ponds for the pelts: muskrat, nutria and even a few mink.  I started working when I was ten. Whatever it took to live, we did. 

So my best guess is, when the military found out I lived in rice fields and how I grew up, I was the perfect draftee for where I ended up. I remember one of my guys commenting that when he got home he never ever wanted to see a rice field again.

I told him where I was from and that going home wouldn't be much different for me, pertaining to rice fields. The only things missing were the yellow crop dusters. Mainly, it taught me more about how to get through the rice fields and survive, all just things that as I look back, prepared me for what was to come. 

In regards to my Father, he was a great man and well respected by his peers. There was nothing he wouldn't do for people that worked under him. Their needs came first. Even after I moved to where I ended up, we kept in touch mainly during the summer. 

I worked for him on pipelines whenever they were in Texas. He put me at the bottom of everything and I still remember his words were, "Whenever you move up to a better job, you will remember where you came from and appreciate what you have."  I still live that to this day. 

Knowing now how hard his life had been in the Pacific, he knew in order for me to survive, he needed to make things tougher on me.  He knew I would learn to deal with all that would be coming down the road. 

Growing up, no matter what I did, someone always reminded me I would never succeed, or be successful, never amount to anything, you name it, I got it.  But it all made me stronger and more determined not to fail at anything I did.  Failure was not an option. 

In my life, all I wanted was to be equal to everyone, not better. I guess that's why most of my life I gave off the impression I was standoffish, aloof, self centered, reserved, not always friendly, just quiet. People just didn't know where I had come from and I wouldn't explain, mainly because my life was and is not a 'poor me' story. The harder it was, the stronger I became. It was the feeling of being bulletproof, if you will. 

Somehow through it all, when I got to Vietnam, I found things there weren't much different from how I grew up, except being shot at constantly, but that too made me stronger, colder, and more numb to everything that happened. There was no time to mourn, reflect, or anything. If you let your guard down, for me it was a sign of weakness and it would probably get you hurt, or worse -- get everyone else hurt. I wouldn't allow that to happen. These were lessons I learned long ago.

Over the years, some still saw me as withdrawn, reserved, and aloof.  I was even called a snob. If they only knew where I came from, it may have helped, but I couldn't explain to anyone for fear of more rejection, or being called names. Back then, if you were from a broken home, you were pretty low class.

So, growing up, I had already been trained to be alone, live alone, survive, deal with hardship and it served me well in Vietnam, because we lived all of that 24/7. I adapted easier than most, due to the fact that I lived it my whole life. It was the same lifestyle, I was just older and in another part of the world. Lots of my people were always amazed at how calm and direct I became under fire.  Hell, I'd been there already, long ago.  

You can see I had a pretty busy life growing up.  I am truly blessed to have had Guardian Angels watching over me since I was born -- another debt I can never repay. Now you have a basic idea as to how I was prepared for war long ago. Through it all, I am very proud and blessed to have had my real parents and my adoptive ones. Most have less that that.  

In his own way, my Dad somehow knew some day I may have to go off to war, so he prepared me as best he could. He  made me earn everything I had and became. He was hard core through and through, but it also helped save my life years later. Hopefully you have a better knowledge of the world I came from as a child and a Vet.

Other Articles by Michael Lansford:

In My Own Words: Part 1
In My Own Words: Part 2

Part 3: The KIA

Hill 937: Part 4
Coming Home

Remembering The Wall
"Leavings at The Wall"

FNG Initiation and Humor

Life in the Jungle

“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

Do you have an opinion, or a comment, you would like to share about this post? Click on the comment button.

Some Thoughts: by Todd Dierdorff

Todd Dierdorff

CJ,
Wow, did you ever stir up emotions and memories. Reading the posts that have come through lately has been very evocative for me.

Back in the day, with the draft, we either went to college, or Canada, or war. I tried the college route, but I had no idea why I was there, or what I was supposed to be doing. So, I got really good at playing bridge and pool. 

Needless to say, my choices were reduced to two - Canada, or war. Bailing out on my country had no appeal to me, so, I went to war.

My best friend and I both enlisted in the Air Force. He went in about three weeks before I did.

Though we selected the same general field for specialty - munitions, rockets, bombs, etc. - we were sent down different paths and, ultimately, different war scenes. 

He went to Bien Hoa AB, VN. Half of my class in tech school went to Bien Hoa, as well. As it turned out, the alphabetical back half went there. 

The front half went to U-Tapao Royal Thai AFB, in Thailand. I spent a year loading bombs for B-52s, which did what were then called Arc Light strikes.

Though I did what the AF told me to do and went where they sent me, I've always had a certain level of guilt about not having been in country, literally.

Given the way my life turned out, I wouldn't go back and change any of it, as everything after that would change, as well. I have wonderful children and grandchildren and I wouldn't give them up, for anything.

Anyway, pardon my rambling. I have really appreciated the responses to your initial inquiry post. Sounds to me like you've initiated something that has helped an array of folks
.
Clearly, with the loss you suffered, you belong.

Thanks.
Blessings,
Todd

Todd A. Dierdorff
Colorado Springs
USAF
U-Tapao Royal Thai AFB, Thailand

“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

Do you have an opinion, or a comment, you would like to share about this post? We welcome all comments.

Lost But Not Forgotten

Anguish and Wonder

Lost But Not Forgotten

by William A. Christie

"It was war, you won't come home,"

are the thoughts you leave home with.

You hear the shots, smell the powder.

The smoke and dust clears.

You look down.

He's gone, and you're still here.

Did I do the right thing,

or was it wrong?

Did I do enough, or too much?

His eyes stare with a far away look.

Oh My God,

he's my friend.

How do I go on?

Guilt fills my life; shame rules it.

Wishing it was me, and glad it wasn't.

Why just one and not both?

I'll remember this forever

in the day and in the nightmares.

Did it hurt?

Did he suffer?

Holding him for what seemed like forever,

knowing it was just a moment,

but feeling it forever ...

Written by Sgt. William A. Christie

a Vietnam Combat Veteran with PTSD

U.S. Army, 299th Combat Engineers

D/A Company

1968/1969

Dak To Defenders

Dak To Vietnam

“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

The Loss of Innocence

Loss of Innocence

Living brings a loss of innocence.  Our mind and our ego are what create that loss of innocence.

The purity of who we are (our identity) becomes tarnished when we experience life through our mind and ego, because they can only offer opinions, beliefs, and judgments.

The mind and ego do not know right from wrong. They assume the answers to life are simple and any answer can take the pain away.

As an example, we can watch a movie containing death and killing, because it is viewed from a distance.  As we watch, we tell ourselves, “It is only a movie”.

In a real situation, like what soldiers experience during war, our mind and our heart collide violently.  The experiences bring shock and a loss of our personal innocence.

As a way of coping, we suppress (hide) those feelings.  Our ego seeks self-preservation, but our heart demands redemption, so the greater damage is done to ourselves -- not the deceased in the movie, or what happened on the battlefield.  The greater damage is always done to us.

We live with the horror of ourselves and so we question, “How do I live beyond this moment of time where guilt has replaced the innocence of my youth?”

Without our loss of innocence, we would never question what appears to be true, so we can discover within what is true about life and us. We have begun the great journey of life back to the source of all of life’s answers; back to knowing who, why, and what we are, within our consciousness.

There will always be casualties in conflict, but there will also be discoveries too.

Feeling is Healing

When we embrace the truth, we heal.
Truth is Reality.
Therefore, Reality is Healing.

Hiding from reality is what tortures us, because we are denying the truth of what we feel.

No matter what we have seen, or done, when we face the truth (the reality), we face ourselves and that is what we want to heal.

The mind escapes reality by hiding in the imagination.  Through denial, the mind avoids confronting pain. Through denial, we escape our healing, we bury our feelings, and we are tortured by our mind and imagination.

When we escape from what we feel, we also escape from the truth, and this hides the reality of what we have experienced. This hidden reality is what can awaken us to the truth of ourselves and our existence.

The horror of the truth carries our healing, from all that we experienced.  Our unconscious reminds us daily that we are avoiding the truth and the reality of our experiences.

We cannot live in the now, because we are lost in the past.  The mind and unconscious remember and, because of that, we cannot heal.

Forgiveness is the total acceptance of what is, what was, and what will be, without any judgment.  This can only come through embracing the truth of what we feel.

We cannot heal, if we do not feel.


by Robert S. Cosmar
Writer, Blogger, Astrologer, and Author of four books about Awareness
Email Robert

“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

"Leavings at The Wall": by Michael Lansford

Some of the Remembrances Left at The Wall

CJ, I have a few more thoughts about The Wall.  I guess we can call it "Leavings at the Wall".

As people come to our Vietnam Memorial Wall each year for Memorial Day, and on other days as well, I wonder what their immediate thoughts might be when they're looking at all the names there. 

Do they wonder who they were?  What they did?  How they died?  Who and how are their families?  How are they handling their losses?  What kind of tribute does one leave for a life lost protecting comrades, our country. and it's whole way of life? 

Whatever they leave at The Wall, do they wonder if it is it enough?  Is it too much?  Is it the right thing to leave?  We each can only answer those questions in our hearts and minds. Whatever is left is most probably the right thing for them, in order to find their inner peace and their way of saying, "Thank You." 

I too ask myself these very questions.  I can't seem to find any right answers. For me, my heart tells me, even though I have never been to the real Wall, I will always be there forever and I have already left, in my mind, the most important things from me:  my prayers, my heart, my soul, my blood, my undying gratitude, pride and respect. 

The Wall Signifies Many Things 

Those things are unseen, but they are there always.  How could I possibly leave anything worthy for those that gave their lives to save mine?  

All I have in life will never be enough, or the right thing, from me. If I could give my life and trade it for theirs, I would. That, for me, is the only true leaving one could give. 

I catch myself wondering, did I do enough for them?  Did I try hard enough to save them?  What could I have done different to make a difference in all our lives over there?  

In my eyes, I failed in so many ways and I can only ask forgiveness from them all for not doing more than I did. And I wonder, what if they had lived? How would their lives have turned out?  Did all of our losses truly make any difference?  

Like the question under the Hamburger Hill sign said, "Was it Worth it?" That's a profound statement if there ever was one. Is any loss in any war worth it?  How many must die, before the world truly understands the high cost of Freedom?  

Right now, the best thing I can leave at the Wall is, "Thank You".  Then salute and walk away. They will truly know, hear, and they will understand.  All we have to do is listen. The Wall speaks volumes to us all.  

Just sit quietly and listen ...

Other Articles by Michael Lansford:

In My Own Words: Part 1
In My Own Words: Part 2

Michael Lansford: Part 3: The KIA

Michael Lansford: Hill 937: Part 4
Coming Home: by Michael Lansford

Remembering The Wall: by Michael Lansford

Life Prepared me for Vietnam

FNG Initiation and Humor

Life in the Jungle


“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

Do you have an opinion, or a comment, you would like to share about this post? Click on the comment button.

The Psychological Experience of Combat

Sebastian Junger, veteran war filmmaker

The psychological experience of combat is so unique that it can only be fully understood by those who have endured it.

A new documentary offers its audience a more intimate understanding of the complicated mix of emotions – ranging from fear to an adrenaline rush – that soldiers face on the front lines.

In the new documentary “Korengal,” a sequel to the Oscar-nominated film “Restrepo,” veteran war filmmaker Sebastian Junger takes his audience to the front lines of the war in Afghanistan as seen through the eyes of a platoon of U.S. infantry soldiers in the Korengal Valley.

In his exploration into the psychological impact of deployment, Junger finds that fear is the most pervasive emotion the soldiers confront.

“They're all scared in combat. I was, everyone was,” Junger said. “The question is: Can you overcome that fear and function?”

While most outsiders view death as the ultimate fear in war, it was fear of failing fellow soldiers in the line of duty that weighed most heavily on the platoon serving in the Korengal Valley.

“Foremost in their minds, I think for most of them, was that they would let their buddies down and that somehow inadvertently or through a mistake or a failure of nerve…that someone else would get killed and they'd have to live with that guilt for the rest of their lives,” Junger said.

While most of the soldiers were able to overcome the fear to perform in combat, Junger recalled one soldier telling him that some are paralyzed by the powerful emotion and are rendered useless.

Producing the documentary took Junger and his filmmaking partner Tim Hetherington, who later died while covering the civil war in Libya, to the front lines of combat in the Korengal Valley off and on for a year. Junger confided that while in Afghanistan he faced his own battle against fear.

“I've learned that I'm very susceptible to fear,” Junger said. “People say, ‘Oh you know, you're a risk taker, you're an adrenaline junkie,’ and … actually the feeling of being scared for your life, it's like having poison injected in your vein. It's absolutely a terrible feeling and I hate it.”

And he also got a taste of the intense emotional bond that grows between soldiers.

“You get very, very close to those guys and something about that experience, being in danger with guys I really cared about … when I came out of there, it just opened me up emotionally. I just became a very emotional person.”

It turns out, Junger discovered, that his newfound emotional side was not a unique side effect of war.

“I talked to some of the soldiers about it and they were all like, ‘Oh my god, that's happening to us too.’” Junger said. “And one of them actually said, ‘You know, we're worried we're turning into girls,’ is how they put it. But I think it's a good thing, because there is sort of a deepening, an emotional deepening that comes from that kind of experience that I think is very, very good.”

In coming back from war, Junger said one of the biggest challenges soldiers face in their transition is the disconnect that exists between the all-volunteer force and civilians at home, who don’t feel any ownership over the war.

“The big obstacle is the sense soldiers get that civilians feel that the war … was the soldiers' war,” Junger said. “And it couldn't be more incorrect. I mean, we chose it, we paid for it, we okayed it, we voted in the government that carried out these wars. … The wars belong to the entire nation.”

Another complicated element of the transition back to civilian life, he said, is the “alienating” experience of being separated from the very soldiers with whom they’ve developed a brotherhood.

“They come home, and suddenly they are not in a group anymore, and I think that's very, very alienating, even though they're safer at home physically, they feel more in danger because they are not in a group,” he said. “They'd rather be back out there in this group that they cared about even though they're getting shot at.”


[By Martha Raddatz, Richard Coolidge, Jordyn Phelps & Alexandra Dukakis, "On The Radar" , with veteran war filmmaker Sebastian Junger.  ABC News and Yahoo News]

“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

Do you have an opinion, or a comment, you would like to share about this post? We welcome all comments.