It was rare for troops from the same unit to be on the same flight home. Unlike WW2, where units were moved by ship and stayed together for a few days or more as they went out and came back, troops returning from Vietnam were with a bunch of strangers. This lack of social cohesion was traumatic for many, I think. And since the war had become very unpopular by 1972, there were no homecoming celebrations. I had heard some horror stories about clashes between returning troops and protestors, which was another practical reason for keeping my long hair and beard. After a layover in Honolulu, I finally touched down back in the lower 48. Home sweet home was so close.
I walked off the plane and walked towards the baggage claim. The airport was quiet because was fairly late at night. To my great surprise, my dad was there to greet me. He had a “WELCOME HOME, SON” sign with an American flag stapled to it. He even had on his WW2 garrison cap. That took some courage because military clothing was definitely not popular at the time. What a relief it was to get in his old truck and drive home. We stopped at a pizza place in Shepherdstown. I couldn’t remember the last time I ate pizza. He didn’t say much during the drive, but before he took a bite, he said “I hear the Rumsey Monument is a good place to look at the stars.” I dropped my pizza slice and ran out the door.
The run was less than a mile, but it felt like hours passed. As I approached the monument, I could see a figure silhouetted against the sky. She was using one arm to lean against the monument, I could see her long hair and dress gently waving in the breeze. I climbed the steps slowly. When I reached the top, she spoke.
“What took you so long, war hero?”
OK, it was time for decisive action. Given the amount of stuff in this book that will cause parents, teachers, librarians, politicians, and other busybodies to pitch a hissy fit, I will be vague in describing what happened next: the removal of clothing in a wooded area at night. To get a feel for it, play the finale to the 1812 Overture, the version that uses real cannons. As I redressed, bid her farewell for the night, and walked away, I thought to myself that I would need to order a new hot, slice of pizza to replace the one I had abandoned. The cashier at the pizza place was surprised to see me again.
“Weren’t you just here?”
“Yes, and now I’m back. I would like a slice with mushrooms and anchovies please.”
I ate it quickly and decided it was best to return to the monument. Since my dad had driven off, I’d been spending the night in town anyway.
To my surprise and relief, she was once again leaning on the monument, though when I approached her, her hair was messed up and there were twigs and such stuck in it.
“Sorry, my love. Pizza is one of my few priorities.”
“Come with me if you want to live.”
“Sounds like a plan. I have a duffel bag full of money and nowhere to sleep. Mind if I crash at your place? Also, will you marry me?”
I produced a ring from my Army jacket. I got custom made in Vietnam. I wasn’t sure what she’d like, so I went with a gold band and a small diamond. I spent very little money in Vietnam and in the Army in general, so it was no big deal for me.
“Yes, but we need to talk about a lot of things first. Let’s walk and talk.”
We set off for her place. I decided to take her advice.
“Maybe tomorrow I can show you the house I grew up in.”
“Your dad showed me around it already. I liked the big tree out front and the tire swing.”
“Yeah, I loved that thing as a kid. It’s proof you don’t need to spend a lot of money to make a kid happy.”
“Listen, you need therapy and lots of it. Are you still doing drugs?”
“No, I switched my addiction to beer. It’s cheap, legal, and it works.”
“That’s not good either.”
“Remember that guy I told you about? Barry Delmar? I was thinking of going to visit him in Washington state. Here’s a picture of the two of us at OCS.”
“That could be helpful. You should talk more to your dad about what happened. He’ll understand.”
“Makes sense. I’d like to stay with you here for a while though. Ask me anything.”
We reached her place, entered, and she told me to lie in bed. I took off my sandals and shirt. I really liked those sandals. They were made from an old tire. Lots of people in Vietnam wore them.
We woke up in each other’s arms. She spoke first.
“Rise and shine. Wakey, wakey eggs and bakey!”
“I’m pretty sure I need to be on a leash if you’re taking me for a walk.”
“After breakfast, I’m taking you to the bank to open an account. Bank. B-A-N-K.”
“I know what a bank is.”
“Then why are you carrying around a duffle bag full of money like a mob hitman?”
“Good point.”
Later that day, I went into the bank and approached a teller.
“Hello, hope you are well. Listen, I just got back from Vietnam, and I need to open an account for my money. It’s in this duffle bag here.”
There was a dramatic pause and I enjoyed watching her eyebrows return from the back of her head.
“I see. OK, please fill out these forms. I need to check with manager. I’ll be right back.”
I used Alexandra’s address on the form. It didn’t matter anyway. The teller came back with the manager. He spoke next.
“OK, sir. You can put the money up here and we’ll count it for you.”
I cashed all my checks back in Vietnam because I was worried something would go wrong with them later. I also kept some GI scrip as a souvenir. Many soldiers in Vietnam got paid with that instead of dollars to discourage them from mingling with the locals. I heard stories about when everyone was lining up for pay at the same time and place every month, there would always be a rocket attack. No one bothered to change the system though. That would require paperwork. Maybe even a meeting or two.
The Katyusha rockets go howl, howl, howl…
I think it best to note that the posting of this on Memorial Day is just a coincidence. It was not my intention at all to stir the pot, so to say.
either way is okay
My favorite book remains Catch-22. I don’t think it’s about the military much: it’s about how corporate is mindless, that, at some scale and scope, the whole becomes less than the sum of the parts.
So, weirdly, your stories close the loop: the book that I don’t this is about the military seems to really really predict a lot of your experiences.
My firm has 30 employees; I wouldn’t go with a Fortune 500 firm for a $30k raise.
I worked for a small software company and I was going to move to San Diego to be the tech support, pre and post sales. Our COO was not too long out of IBM and we were discussing the parameters of the expenses. He said “we don’t have a policy on that here” and I smiled and said “Dick, that’s one of the things I like about this place”.
” I don’t think it’s about the military much…”
Completely agree: It’s about *humans.* We’re being the social primates we are. Regardless of [insert any year here]’s Current Issue, nothing changes. We haven’t magically evolved and we won’t. The Skynet 3.0 interface is nascent and I can only hope it doesn’t Escalate and Crumble in my lifetime. I think it will collapse on those born in the 21st century. But again, after every horror in our species, we indeed Build Back Better. (Humans be human. All drives, motivations remain unchanged. To be continued until extinction.)
Scrip was used, it had no hint of being backed by full faith. The idea was to keep GIs from spending green in the village where it would totally upset the economy. (I read a book about that, maybe “A Bell for Adano”? where the GIs overwhelmed the local economy using cigarettes as currency). Didn’t matter, the local bars took script. We actually got a much better than the official rate of exchange by buying local currency on post.
Also scrip could change on a flash, leaving black marketeers holding out dated currency. The VN employees were paid in local currency.
In ’71 we had to open a checking account at American Express and got direct deposit. We could then get cash at the PX or Club but there wasn’t really a lot of need for cash though officers had to pay for their meals in the mess hall.
Was the food any good?
Two choices, eat or not eat. Actually it was OK, calories. Price was right, I don’t remember but seems like a total of $2 a day, no tipping. Seems we paid into another fund for waitress service.
Burgers and fries? Chicken casserole?
I have an old book that is a collection of Sad Sack comic strips from the Second World War, and there was a lot of “spam” related jokes.
There is one strip where Sad Sack crawls out of the jungle and voraciously devours everything the cool is serving, while the cook gets a gradual ego boost. The last panel is Sad Sack shouting “Phooey!”, presumably in disgust.
Four^2: “Seems we paid into another fund for waitress service.” Uh. Purposeful or accidental euphemism?
“Eat or not eat.” That’s a shame. No gluten-free options?! Distasteful. (Not with gluten, but oldest nephew, 10, is a fiendishly picky eater. I ain’t his papa, but DAMN. I wouldn’t allow such. Newsflash kid: Majority of Life options are not chosen. (Subhead: Most choices made for you suck. Learn to deal. ASAP.)
‘The Paradox of Choice’ is a real one. Happily, society is swamped with prosperity. It clouds the reality that we gotta eat. Sadly(?) I’d be a quick study finding food in prison/etc.
Though we were at war there were a lot f local employees, KPs, laborers, maids that washed clothes and cleaned our areas. I had to clean my own office since I was the only one in it. No enlisted, just me. Fortunately I didn’t track in too much dirt. We paid into a fund and someone administered it so we didn’t have to worry about that part.
dad was on this tiny Marshall Island for most of 1958
and they had cash but nothing to spend it on except beer at the noncom bar, gambling debts, and, apparently, there’s this thing when you fly out of a place after that: you sell your stuff, coping stuff you bought on arrival from those departing then like fishing and scuba gear. Dad brought home a spin-casting reel and cameras; they fit in a foot locker.
Speaking of soldiers…
https://www.cnn.com/2024/05/27/europe/pope-francis-accused-homophobic-slur-intl-latam/index.html
The Corriere della Sera newspaper stated that the Argentine pope, who speaks Italian as a second language, may not have been aware of how offensive his language was, adding that the remark was greeted with incredulous laughter by the bishops.
“We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition:
And gentlemen in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.”
https://youtu.be/A-yZNMWFqvM?si=OzXzlu1IGtWXwC9Q
https://youtu.be/x26GN6rQbZI?si=_Jn_CFMa5HspYdYJ
I call foul on this video. It is Olivier, but uses the music from Branagh’s version.
The real version: https://youtu.be/SGcfD8AfmqI?si=VBt5wNb8EPUpeXDv
Or this version:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UzIyExlEcyk
Alexandra escalated that quickly…I strongly approve.
“I heard stories about when everyone was lining up for pay at the same time and place every month, there would always be a rocket attack.” Were they still picked up in person, those getting First of the Month benefit checks could be targeted the same way. That would succinctly inflame folk primed for rioting. (Me thinky no coinky-dinky those folk are prioritized on the 1st and Election Days.)
Dad never had to go to Vietnam, thankfully. I just learned Mom’s bro was a paratrooper there and apparently has some nasty PTSD. He doesn’t talk about his experiences, though I also haven’t seen him in probably 15 years. Dad greatly regrets not talking with, learning about his grandfather’s experiences in WWI. Obviously depends on deployment details, but overall, hands-down I’d rather be in WW One than Two.
Are you sure about that?? I just got done watching the first part of The History Channel’s The Great War, and while WWII was obviously no picnic, the conditions for soldiers in WWI were perfectly ghastly and the body count was astronomical. One could argue whether it was better or worse than conditions in certain portions of the Pacific Theater in WWII, but they certainly weren’t that much preferable. (***cough, cough***poison gas***cough, cough***) The Oh-What-A-Lovely War wasn’t all “Mademoiselle from Armentiers.”
Oops! Error adding second link! Try this.
My uncle in law died in a soldiers home a decade after the end of WWI due to his service (can’t remember if it was TB or gas or both). War sucks at the sharp end in any era.
Through the Wheat is a good read, if short.
One thing about WWI though – at least on the allies’ side of the Western front – was that they constantly rotated the troops in the trenches, so that you’d be in the rear for a week, then move up to the middle for a week, then on the front line for a week, then rotate back. Unless you were at the front when a major offensive kicked off, you may not have even really seen much combat at all.
WWII, though, had a lot of battles where you’d be at “the front” for several weeks at a time, like Normandy (the whole campaign, not just D-Day) or Bastogne.
HOLY FUCK! I meant I ABSOLUTELY would rather be in WWII. That was an Ev fuck-up of…Ev proportions.
At least in WWII there was an actual fucking PURPOSE. There was none in WWI, esp for the US.
Being a soldier on either front line in WWI is in the upper echelon of Hell, IMO. In the trenches for…however many days at a time? I honestly can’t imagine much worse. All I can muster for being in the same ballpark? Long, slow, and semi-public medieval torture. The painful Mind-Fuck of shell shock would shatter many/most. Hrm.
I am surrounded by comfort and amenities. *munch* I’ll focus on that, while never forgetting how We got here.
My family has been non-military since at least the founding of the nation.
Both my wife’s grandfathers fought in WW2, one in the Pacific, one in Europe. The grandfather in Europe was an officer in an engineering company; his troops were African-Americans
The other grandfather flew B29 bombers in the Pacific. He complained that after the war ended, they kept making them fly missions, using planes that were being held together with spit and baling wire, and a lot of pilots died needlessly in plane crashes.
Unlike WW2, where units were moved by ship and stayed together for a few days or more as they went out and came back, troops returning from Vietnam were with a bunch of strangers. This lack of social cohesion was traumatic for many, I think.
This gets repeated often, along with WWII returnees had time to decompress due to slow transport vs VN. Both are bullshit to a degree. Demobilization during WWII required a certain number of points but was by unit, so what happened?:
If you had too many points, or not enough, buh bye, you’re going to a new unit with strangers.
https://youtu.be/radsTxo06oM
I really enjoyed the tale but this last chapter is sorely lacking. Seems like some wish-fulfilment fantasy rather than tying up any loose ends. A chick waiting on the mountaintop? Twice? While the protagonist runs back down to scarf pizza? You’re better than this, Derpy.
Calm before the storm. He goes to visit his buddy, only to find him deceased and a series of event leading to him going to prison.
Far be it from me to bitch and moan seeing as I’ve never had the nards to submit a single article.
I was hoping for some Lovecraftian shennanigans.
It’s detailed in the documentary First Blood.
I am late to the discussion but was inter-island racing this weekend. However, at dawn I remembered said my Memorial Day words to some no longer among us, and the reason the day is recognized.
Back to work! (Most of you non old people)
😉🌄
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=yCto3PCn8wo
🎶🎶
Getting old has some compensations.
Good morning all!
Today we have something with a little energy in it. Philip Glass and Ravi Shankar:
Meetings Along the Edge.
Share and enjoy!
Good morning, Beau and Sean!
Morning.
Good morning, U! How are you today?
Miserable.
Oh, no! What’s wrong? Just miserable about having to go back to work after a long weekend, or is something else the matter? 😧
And I just got more salad dressing on my pantleg than on my salad… 🙁
That being just the last little thing to pile up.
😖
Are you in the office or WFH?
I’m remote today, so I was able to get changed.
Well, I hope that’s the worst thing that happens to you today and it’s all uphill from here! My boss is taking this week off, so I’m hoping for a quiet day at the office. 🤞 (For once I don’t have to race through payroll processing the day after a Monday holiday!)
🤬 They rebooted my work PC over the weekend.
Aargh! Did you lose any work?
Nah, right now it’s “Coordinate with internal and external partners”, so it’s all just emails that are saved automagically.
Mornin’ GT
Hey there, Beau! Interesting, fun music this morning! How are you doing?
Hi GT,
I’m doing well all in all. They finally fixed the “air conditioning” in my apt building just as temperatures fell off a cliff. At least it’s cool now 😉
Nice. I like Philip Glass.
“Just one evening?!”
I’m a huge Philip Glass fanboy. Have been ever since a friend played parts of the 3-lo Einstein on the Beach for me many years ago. Few days pass without listening to 1 or more of the Knee Plays from EOB. I was ecstatic when they finally released a dvd of a performance of the work in its entirety. Seeing Philip, Robert Wilson, and Lucinda Childs take a bow at the end is very heartwarming.
But I still want to hear the concluding monologue done by James Earl Jones
For me it was 1,000 Airplanes on a Roof with Linda Ronstadt (!).
Oooh!
I was able to see 2 performances of that, one in Lansing before moving to Raleigh, NC area, and then shortly after at Duke University.
I wish they’d video’d that, it was ideal for video 🙁
BTW, Glass’s autobiography, Words Without Music, is very good. Highly recommended.
Well, phooey! OH’s RINO governor is calling a special session of the OH General Assembly to make sure Biden gets on the November ballot, since the Dems apparently can’t do basic calendar math and get their homework done on time. 😒
Can they turn around and impeach him?
Ooh! That could be interesting! The current Lt. Gov. is a former Sec’y of State and might be more sympathetic to the current SoS who’s been standing firm on the ballot deadline…
Natl Review chimes in with “oh ignore the law and let him on the ballot”. Conservatives eh?
Rule of Law is so white or something.
Morning. Giant angry storm passing through.
I would love to just sit and listen to a storm without worrying about the house.
It just split our big front tree into a stump. Whole neighborhood is full of leaves. Crap. Most likely roof damage.
Oh, no! I hope your house is OK!
Another one?? Either I’ve been paying closer attention than usual or this has been an unusually stormy season! Poor Ryan Hall, Y’all has been putting in some long hours tracking all these destructive systems! (Kudos to KK for putting me on to him.)
suh’ fam
whats goody
TALL ERIE CANS!
Good morning, homey! Back up nort’ again, I see. At least it’s a short week of climbing tall stacks!