I'm fifty-three years old. I didn't go to Nam, or Canada, but stayed in college as long as I could, which wasn't too long, until I pulled a high lottery number. 273, I think it was. By that time, 1972, Nixon was all into the "Peace with Honor" baloney and it was winding down.
The sense of things I had, at that point in time, was that this country had accepted the notion that it was only digging an ever deepening hole, and the time to get out was now. I don't remember much discussion about the "rights" or "wrongs" of the war; I can't say how people felt regarding whether the soldiers and sailors were doing anything honorable or dishonorable there. The country was just tired of it, sick and tired of it. By that time, everyone knew of a son, or cousin or neighbor's kid who had been killed there.
I'm sure everyone has heard at least a thousand times the story of Viet vets coming home to be spit on and called baby killers and such. I can't dispute that; people can be ugly sometimes. What you hear less about are the vets coming home with their heads halfway twisted around. The future residents of our urban streets. And still others with their heads really firmly screwed on straight and tight, and with a huge chip on their shoulders. It is a natural tactic of moral survival to believe what you have done is right.
I found myself in my freshman year trying to befriend one of these latter survivors of Viet Nam, a Marine who was about as anti-social and anti-hippie as you could find in those days, but still with good business sense. You see, because of his age, he was the "go-to" guy for refreshments alchoholic in the 21-is-legal state of Pa. I can still hear his huge duffel bag going "clink-clink" as he walked back into the dorm after a beer run. One cold spring day, we blew off class and went to the new movie "Easy Rider" and split a bottle of gin. He was an angry drunk, not sure if that came from the war or not, but I was a happy one, so we sort of put each other in check that way. We were both English majors, but he later shifted to psychology, and I believe he went to work at one of the local hospitals after getting his degree.
I would bet that to this day John believes he had the moral high ground regarding whatever he did or did not do while fighting in Vietnam. If I had gone, and had I then come home alive, I also might very well have adopted the same view. More than anything else, it is about survival.
If there is any reason, beyond just these insane politics, why this old war is being discussed so much right now, it is because us older farts have never settled the matter in such a large and illuminated forum. And really, the crux of the matter isn't being discussed at all; only talk about what two very young and relatively wealthy men did or didn't do while the country imploded. The real elephant-in-the-livingroom that everyone ignores is, what exactly is the role of this country on the world stage. That was the final unanswered question of Vietnam, and I think it's the real one this country is going to give answer to, full of ignorance and naivete as it may be, come November.
Ed
