Every Veterans Day, I realize how lucky I am to be a veteran, and not a name on a wall memorializing those who were killed in war. I’d like to take you back 47 years to June of 1966. I was home on a two-week leave before leaving for Vietnam. What was this old veteran thinking of at that time?
A two-week leave goes much too fast. There are so many things to do and so many people to see, especially when you’ll be gone for over a year. Waiting to go fight in a war is not a very pleasant experience for anyone. Each person is filled with some fears and apprehensions. It’s only natural. I doubt if anyone talks about those fears while they’re on leave, both out of not wanting to show he’s afraid, and not wanting to worry his family and friends any more than they already are. No one likes to think that he could be wounded or possibly killed, but it’s a thought that’s often present as you wonder what the future holds for you.
We were at the cemetery one day, putting flowers on my grandparent’s graves, when a cold chill ran through me. I thought of the chance that I could be killed over there and wondered where I would be laid to rest. Rather sobering thoughts.
I think we all feel we’re immortal, that nothing can hurt us, and we’ll live forever. Especially when we’re young, we feel that way. Nothing worries us. There’s plenty of time to do what we want. There’s always tomorrow.
Suddenly we find ourselves in a different situation. We realize that time is short. There isn’t always tomorrow. There aren’t enough hours in the day to see and do everything we want. We drive down familiar roads and walk across familiar fields that others pass through without even noticing. Familiar things around us are usually unnoticed by those who see them every day as they hurry through life. But now I saw everything in a different light. I saw and heard trees rustling their leaves in the breeze along the roadside near our back forty, birds singing, and the hay waving on the prairie fields. I would stare and try to savor and remember each detail, to store it up for the long year ahead—or perhaps for eternity—when I wouldn’t be here. I looked at everything as if I may never get to see it again. I remember thinking, this may be the last time I see this, and a lump would rise in my throat, not so much feeling sorry for myself, but regretting that I hadn’t spent more time noticing the world around me. For the first time I was really living, not as if there’s always tomorrow, but as if there may never be a tomorrow. In many ways, going to Vietnam was good for me. It opened my eyes to a lot of things and most of all, made me appreciate life more. Too many people live their entire life without really noticing the world in which they live. They are just along for the ride.
My leave was fourteen days of living and seeing things as I had never seen them before. I knew how I felt about going to Vietnam and I knew how my family, fiancé, and friends must feel, and this bothered me more than anything. I really think that it’s worse for those who are left behind.
I always did hate goodbyes and those days were the worst. What does a person say to a person who’s about to leave for a war zone. “See you later, have a good time.” That doesn’t quite fit the situation. I knew it was awkward for the people shaking my hand and telling me good luck. I’d tell them to behave themselves and I’d see them in a year. You try to laugh and joke about it to ease the feelings of those you leave behind and also to cover up your own feelings and fears. You act brave and stand tall so they won’t feel sorry for you, and to make it easier for both them and yourself. But behind that joking smile, it’s no joke and you aren’t very brave at all. But you’ve got to act brave. Walk like a man! Many who go are still kids, not old enough to vote in an election or get served a drink in a bar. They may not even be old enough in another year when they return, but they’re old enough to be sent off to a war and be killed. Nothing made much sense at that moment. Age doesn’t help make you a man anyway. It’s what you have inside. It’s how well we would stand up to the challenges ahead.
Leaving La Crosse: Slaback, Sherpe, Springborn, Skolos
As the plane lifted off the runway in La Crosse and headed for Fort Lewis, Washington, I looked at the countryside below and knew it would be a long time before I could once more walk in those woods that we saw below us.
I thought of Robert Frost’s poem. “The woods are lovely, dark and deep... but I have promises to keep... and miles to go before I sleep... and miles to go before I sleep.”
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