50th Anniversary Vietnam Era Medal
My experiences in the Army have been etched in my design so profoundly that I seldom verbalize the experience. I'm not sure why... or maybe I do.
The decision to enlist could be compared to throwing a dart at a map.
June 25th 1973... Just graduated from Pennridge High School (that in itself deserved a medal) and as I remember it, I'm riding a Greyhound bus to NE Philly headed to the Military Entrance Processing Station. I'm a soft, punky, overweight cigarette/weed smoking kid, and now I'm registering that profile... and I can't get off the bus. I look around to find similar lost souls, but I'm hearing most have been drafted and I might be the only one on the bus who volunteered. I'm keeping my mouth shut.
Processing station wasn't bad.... I knew my name, my next of kin, and I can suck up inoculations with the best of them. I'm feeling good about how independent I am. I could muster 'yes,' 'no' and I don't know.' "Army life isn't going to be that tough," I said, still in my civilian clothes. And then, Ft. Dix, N.J. happened.
I'm not going to blog a play-by-play about boot camp and how the Army reached down into my soft exterior and pulled out something hard and disciplined (not to be confused w/ other possible parts of that same description). Briefly, the Army was teaching a Perkasie Pa. kid how to survive. This was a camp about life and death realities and the D.I.s were tough loving us to death.
Vietnam was ugly. I was never there. Families lost their children without choice. I remember wondering what souls lay on this same cot before me. I'm processing those same kids who walked the same hallways, had the same training and were later shipped to Southeast Asia with the tools they were given at Ft. Dix. Not to take a morbid slant but, I felt I could be laying in somebody else's coffin, that's how weird it felt... cause I knew chances are...it was true.
Memorial Day for me is more than a holiday and a hamburger. I may not wear a hat with Vietnam Era pins or parade my American Legion membership to enhance my contribution. I will, though, always remember those forgotten souls like the ones I felt at Ft. Dix... who were kids like myself. Laughing, making friendships, doing Army stuff, and then dying in a far away place or wounded emotionally. It's a real thing. They are not 60 something... they will never blog... they will never harvest a generous life. They are dead. Vietnam wasn't a threat to our Constitution, but they laid down their LIVES under the name of Freedom. I salute my brothers who make my comfortable day possible. I remember who you were.
I remember too. It's good not to forget.We need to be reminded so history doesn't repeat. People put different spins on wars we have been involved with but oppression of any inherent rights is never okay. Ever! and we need to thank the men and women who continue to lay down their lives for others, for me. Thank you for remembering too, for voicing it in your blog.
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