This memoir is not always accurate, but it is truthful. Which is to say that names have been changed, details have been forgotten, real conversations have been recalled as accurately as possible, but events have been rearranged in time and space. Life does not proceed in an orderly way and can be confusing as it is experienced. In time, a deeper meaning emerges. If it were possible to present events 40 odd years ago exactly as they occurred, it would be a long and confusing account. So the memoirist uses some of the writing tools of fiction to make the experience more meaningful for the reader. I have checked what facts I could and have seen how memory can be at once unreliable, but honest. I had a memory of wearing a side arm when I escorted Miss Missouri in Viet Nam. Upon examining photographs of that occasion, I found no evidence of a pistol. This memory of taking a sidearm, I think, was a memory that drifted in from a later event. Nevertheless, this "false" memory carries the truth of how important the safety of Miss Missouri meant at the time. On the other hand, my memory, tested against other evidence, like photographs, or other accounts has often proven more accurate than some written records.
The deepest wound I suffered from the war was that my country abandoned the Viet Namese I came to love.
Much has been said about how awful and useless the Viet Nam War was. The recent documentary by Ken Burns wallowed in that idea. I did not find my 17 month tour in Viet Nam awful, or useless, and if I had the opportunity, I would do it all again. America has been on the "pity-pot" about that war for decades, but it was no worse than any other war. The distinction of the Viet Nam War has been how poorly it was managed, mainly by politicians, and the homecoming. In other wars, the veterans were welcomed home. They paraded on the 4th of July, proud of the missing limb they gave for the cause, but Viet Nam veterans slunk home under a cloud of lies. At best they were victims; at worst they were victimizers. In fact, most of the veterans, as in all our other wars, went home to jobs and raising families. Most did not suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, or become alcoholics. Most of us have been discreet about our service. A few have loudly proclaimed disgust for their own wartime participation. Some of their complaints are entirely understandable, but others make me wonder--what did they do, and why, to be so ashamed? I say to my brothers and si