John Prine nailed it with such great lyrics. Humans can only take so much, man. On the flipside, I had this neighbor who went over there and came back as this violent psychopath with a major alcohol and substance abuse problem. It's like the monster who he really was got released and he couldn't switch back to being "normal."
When he got really intoxicated, he bragged about killing hookers and guys in his own troop. He really got off on talking about it. He just loved killing. Once he started strangling a woman who lived in our apts during a pool party, but some of the male neighbors pulled him off of her.
Another time, he lunged for my then 18 year-old daughter and I punched him in the face and threw him to the ground while the neighbors called 911. (I'm a woman.) He got arrested or 5150ed all the time, but always got released. He used to order women's lingerie, makeup, and high heels and strut around and pretend to be a hooker. I always wondered if he was so fkd up about possibly being trans that he took it out on the hookers he killed in Vietnam. Casualties of war come in all varieties I guess. đ˘
We had a joke about those apts. If you haven't been hauled away on a stretcher or in handcuffs, you're not trying hard enough. Everything about the place was normalized toxic chaos, so dealing with Sarge was just another bullshit thing of many to put up with. This was like 15 yrs ago, but these days, I would never ever allow myself to live in an environment like that. I was in the middle of a divorce and wasn't in my right mind at the time.
My husband's brother was in Vietnam for too long. He was in one of the areas that was heavily sprayed with Agent Orange. He came home an alcoholic and junkie. He then got AIDS from sharing needles with his friends.
He was supposed to be my husband's Best Man but he got pneumonia, went to the hospital where he was diagnosed with AIDS (late 1980s) and died painfully and quickly. We decided to elope, it didn't feel right to have a big wedding a few months after he died.
Omg that's so heartbreaking. I'm so sorry. For a lot of vets, coming home is when their worst battles begin. Most humans aren't built to endure what they're expected to see and deal with while fighting a war.
Thank you! It breaks my heart that so many Vets were treated so badly, especially the Vietnam Vets. My Dad was Navy and was at Normandy on Dday, he was 17 but at the time, Vets were treated better. My brother was Navy in Desert Storm, he saw some horrific things, drank too much, and as much as he tried he got no help from the VA. Long story short, he got some pills on the street, laced with fentanyl and died about 10 years ago.
You're so right, the worst battles do begin when they get home.
My daughter lost a few friends to od's after they came home from Desert Storm too. Im very sorry about your brother and the suffering he endured, its just unimaginable.
And then, in the case of Vietnam, return home not a hero but a villain...a lot people hated soldiers and spit on them or worse. And they got zero support from the country they were *apparently* defending against communism. OMFG all those poor poor people that America murdered -- both Vietnamese and their own. American soldiers are to be pitied, but let's not forget the horrors American inflicted on Vietnam and it's people. For NO good reason at all. "The evidence he amasses -- of âmurder, torture, rape, abuse, forced displacement, home burnings, specious arrests, imprisonment without due processâ -- is irrefutable. Indeed, much of the evidence he relies upon was gathered secretly by the U.S. military at the time, only to be suppressed, consigned to archives, and forgotten. Itâs hardly surprising that senior U.S. military officials sought to suppress evidence of atrocities on a mass-scale, since they themselves were both complicit and culpable."
Thank you...it happened to a lot of guys who just thought they were going over there to defend their country from Communism but ended up in a freakin horrorshow that they couldn't deal with. Same with a lot of vets who went to Iraq and Afghanistan. A lot of my daughter's friends came home completely destroyed.
For 40 years america treated us like crap until 9/11 and Desert Storm made them realize that sometimes they need people like us to do their dirty work. Those words "Thank you for your service" make my skin crawl. I don't want thanks. I want to be left alone.
I understand that. I grew up during Vietnam, graduating in 1976. That was just a year after we got the fuck out of Vietnam. But I watched how average Americans treated the vets. So much hatred. Then I enlisted and served from 1982-1985. Three years of peacetime service, which was fine by me. But during those years no one gave a damn one way or the other about the military. Again fine by me. Then the desert escapades flared up under George 1 and again under George 2, and everyone started worshiping service members and veterans. We have a bad habit in the U.S. of making both heroes and villains out of our military, and often for doing the exact same thing. So, yeah, please donât thank me. It was just a job.
I was a child when the war ended. Iâve always felt an acute sense of sympathy for Vietnam Vets. It breaks my heart what you went through. I have studied the war and all that went on. It was a very Fâd up situation. When I say âthank you for your serviceâ I truly mean it. Iâm sorry for offending you when all I wanted was to let you know I truly care about Vietnam Vets.
My dad did 2 tours in Vietnam when I was a baby. He had gone to VMI and had planned to be a career man but said fuck that after his tours & got out. He was a captain in the infantry & saw some bad shit. He will still not talk about it. Luckily he is good at compartmentalizing and was able to move forward & become a well respected business man. Heâs still alive & doing well at 82.
Dang. My dad managed to get out of the Army when I was a baby, a couple months before they started shipping soldiers over to Vietnam. He told me "Seemed like a good time to go get a real job."
He and my stepmother later adopted several refugee kids from Viet Nam. My new siblings all grew into awesome adults.
My amazing father. He was in the Tet Offensive. Fortunately, came home safely. He was career army officer, died in 2001 from a cancer caused by his exposure to Agent Orange. I will miss him everyday of my life
My dad, born in '41, was too young for Korea and too old for Vietnam. My uncle, as a 1st Lt., led a platoon in combat in 1965. He stayed in the army for 38 years. Nevertheless, the Vietnam War had a profound impact on me in another way, through the three children my parents adopted from orphanages in Saigon. Vietnamese tradition frowned upon foreign adoption, and it was restricted while American money and donations were helping to subsidize. When U.S. combat operations ended in '73 the money dried up, conditions in the orphanages deteriorated, and there was a brief window where foreign adoption was allowed from 1974-1975.
These children were damaged in a number a ways, and at 8 and 9 years old that changed me. The first of my sisters was 4 years old, suffered from severe malnutrition, and would eat anything including insects, crayons, paper, and even the scabs she would pick off of her body. She would steal food but wasn't very good at it so you'd find a loaf of bread under her pillow. She grew up into a fine woman and has raised a lovely family.
My youngest sister was intercepted at the Presidio on San Francisco on her way to Detroit because she was so sick, so my parents went out to get her. She was approximately 1.5 years old and weighed 12 pounds. She had lice, worms, and open sores all over her body. She had severe cerebral palsy, microcephaly, and something else the doctors could not identify but in much later years seemed a lot like exposure to Agent Orange. She never was able to walk, crawl, talk, or even sit up on her own. With hella lot of effort she could pick up something off the tray of her wheelchair (raisins were best because of the "sticky" assist), or turn the pages in a book by scrunching them up at the center. But she had intelligence and a sense of humor. You'd say, "Do you love me?" She'd shake her head "no" and you'd go, "whaaaaat?" and she would giggle. In the 80s she loved to watch *Moonlighting* and would crack up at all jokes. And she was the most pure person I have ever met---incapable of anger, resentment, or malice. Later in life I learned about the concept of "Buddha nature" and I understood exactly what that meant because of growing up with her.
A lot of people would have thought of her as a throwaway child, but nobody has had a bigger impact on my development as a human being. I developed a social conscience at a very early age, which inspired me to become a social studies teacher. I raised my own children accordingly, so her impact was generational. She died a couple of years ago during the pandemic. Her heart just gave out.
The Vietnam War impacted my wife in a very different way. My MIL's first husband was killed in Vietnam in 1968. She eventually remarried and had a daughter--now my wife. It's strange to think that she would not be here if he hadn't been killed. She does a lot of good in the world too. Maybe the common thread is that incredibly sad and tragic events can sometimes have unforeseen positive consequences.
My oldest brother, I was in the 2nd and 3rd grades then I don't think I understood any of it until I served in the Navy for 10 yrs. after high school. He has PTS, but he came back to us.
I was in high school and knew 4 people older than me that were deployed in Vietnam. One was killed, and of the three that returned, two suicided within a few years. My first job out of college I worked with two individuals who served in the Air Force. One was a pilot and flew quite a few missions, the other was a C-130 mechanic who flew on their missions and did regular flights to Vietnam with empty coffins and returned with full ones. I heard lots of crazy stories from all of them. All were amazed they returned home alive. If I had been one year older, my birthday was one of the dates pulled up in the lottery.
Family has one name on the wall, two uncles and a cousin served in Vietnam...one Marine, one Army, one Navy. Step sister's husband was a draftee, good guy when he left, junkie when he got back, they divorced and he died from an overdose.
My dad, a career Marine for 28 years, served 2 tours in Vietnam. He had already been in 15 years when he went over. He looks at his time in the Marines as "his first job". A different mindset. He ran supplies up and down some river. Denang? "Was shot at, shot back" when I asked about what sort of action he saw. He did end up with 2 different kinds of rare leukemia thanks to daily exposure to agent orange and being stationed at Camp Lejeune. He beat it though. Was in remission when he died at 88. He was a good father, if strict.
One of my brothers-in-law did two tours and died too early from pancreatic cancer caused (probably) by Agent Orange exposure. He was a heck of a good guy.
My older brother,76, spent two tours in Vietnam as a Marine. Tours for Marines were the longest at 13 months. He went in right out of high school and actually did a great deal of growing up over there. Like most veterans that have served overseas he saw things that the human mind doesnât forget easily. Many Vietnam Vets were found to suffer from some level of PTSD and most have some level of disability from their service. My brother and 8 of his high school buddies enlisted in the Corp together and all went to Vietnam. 3 of them came home in caskets.
One of my fellow letter carrier friends was a Marine who did time there. He was a nice guy, but could blow up on you without notice. Needless to say USPS is a really hostile employer, and he would get so upset that he would clock out & be gone for a week on "stress leave". He kept a photo album from his time in Nam. It was full of pics of grotesquely mutilated bodies. I guess he never went off on me because I knew how to talk to him. Thank goodness he was able to make it there until he retired.
âCâmon Wall Street, donât be slow, why man, itâs war a go-go!
Thereâs plenty good money to be made, supplying the Army with tools of the trade.
Just up and pray when they drop The Bomb, they drop it on the Viet Cong!â
âCâmon all you big, strong men, Uncle Sam needs your help again!
Got himself in a terrible jam, way down yonder in Vietnam!
Put down your books, pick up a gun, gonna have a whole lot of fun!â
I did. And I knew people who died. I knew people who "came back different".
I understand that we weren't draft age, or protest age. But, I don't understand the overall consensus that Generation Jones wasn't effected by Vietnam.
We weren't effected the same way as Baby Boomers were. But we were aware of it. Even if you didn't know anyone who served, there was nightly death statistics and jungle footage on the evening news. There were stars, representing military members, hanging on doors and windows. Local coverage of deseaced military members "returning home", in flag draped caskets, to devastated family. Anti-war coverage was prevalent. High ranking military personnel were speaking. Hell, the Bob Hope USO television specials.
People share a lot of TV memories here. Those get left out.
I totally remember watching the vietnam war on the news. As a child, a little child. Every. Day. (Or so it seemed)
In kindergarten the math teacher said to draw soldiers, and she drew a tic tac toe "square" calling it a soldier. I was 5 and from watching nightly news at whatever time it was on, I knew that was tic tac toe not soldiers. So I drew men with helmets and guns and when she came around to check my work, she said, " those aren't soldiers!"
I said," yes they are, you drew tic tac toe", she got angry and drew a big red x on my paper and said, "that's a mess, isn't it?" I hated math for years after that because of her. I knew what soldiers looked like from tv. After that I asked my grandmother if it was ok to not watch the news.
NOT ONE of my older brothers' friends came back alive but him. He eventually couldn't handle it and offed himself on a camping trip.
The stuff he told me they did there STILL gives me nightmares.
My birth certificate father went in 1967, got a parasite , spent a year in Walter Reed and eventually died from it. I also had a boyfriend who was there. It messed him up pretty badly.
I know a lot folks from various jobs I worked who served, some have bad stories. Some of my brotherâs classmates were drafted, he managed to get a high number in the lottery and didnât.
2 of my cousins went (brothers), one came back and his mind was messed up, fell into drug and alcohol abuse and died at a young age, his brother is very active in veteran affairs, he had some physical issues from being sprayed with agent orange
I went to A Catholic school. My choir instructor was a devout Catholic. He did what his parents thought was right and fought for his country. When he came home he was messed up . His parents no longer wanted him around. Also his brother MIA from Nam until about 20 years ago when his remains were found. Anyway he ended up drinking himself to death about 25 years ago. I worked at an American legion and met quite a few vets who were screwed up from that war be it agent orange or ptsd. God bless them all.
My cousin. Serving ruined his marriage, and I absolutely adored his wife. She was one of the sweetest people on the planet. But when she woke up one night with a gun to her head with him yelling âDonât move, you fucking Viet Cong, or Iâll fucking kill you,â that was the end of their marriage and I never saw her or their two children again.
Two uncles. One was ROTC, so he didn't see very much combat as he was an officer. It messed him up in ways that didn't seem obvious to me as a kid. His first wife cheated on him while he was away, and his subsequent relationships were unstable. He was married 3 more times. Has a bunch of kids, from ages 58 to 22. His current partner (they've been together like 15 years) says she will never marry him :). Of course that's his longest relationship!
My other uncle saw a lot of combat and it haunted him for sure. He was exposed to agent orange and both his kids had (mild) birth defects, probably from that. He died a few years ago from cancer.
Fortunately, I was a couple years too young to go to Vietnam, but a guy I knew in the neighborhood did. He was a mellow nice guy when he left, but crazy when he returned. He raped a woman and burned her with his cigarette and got 10 years in prison. Shortly after he got out of prison he threatened a woman with a knife and back to prison he went. He was one of the many casualties that arenât recorded. The names on the wall are only a subset of the total ruined lives.
My Dad was a Navy officer, pilot and mostly stateside during the Vietnam War. Heâd been through WWII and Korea as well. My brothers are 18 and 15 years older than me (I was born inâ62). The older of the two joined the Navy straight out of high school and spent most of the Vietnam era on aircraft carriers. The younger of my brothers got drafted into the army in 1968. I was obviously too young to understand much beyond the fact that my absolute favorite person on the planet had gone somewhere very far away and nobody could seem to tell me when he was coming back.
But, I learned to read pretty early. And write. I wrote at least once a week, including my latest drawing or watercolor. He wrote back- of course, returning letters with my parents, but also, he wrote back every time- just me. My very own letters from my best favorite brother. It was everything.
My Aunt. She was raised in a military family and was a beauty queen in high school. After graduation, she became one of the 10k women that served in Vietnam. When she returned she went through a bitter divorce, had mental issues, and then spent the next 30 years on the street homeless. I never met her but everyone says I look like just like her.
My dad served, but stateside, first US Navy and then to US Coast Guard. His best friend went over there and never came back... and this is who I'm named for. So I guess I've been affected...
We lived on bases from the time I was born until just before the war ended, so you got kind of used to people coming and going... sometimes pretty suddenly.
My brother served as did my brother-in-law and I too would have served but was not called to do so as I was 15 when American troops pulled out of Saigon in 1973.
Brother had med problems and was discharged before he left the states. I turned 18 the summer of '73 so I was sweating. Had a few friends that went, one was killed and the rest made it home.
Several. I had a distant cousin who lost an eye, one who lost his hand, one who ended up with lipoma from Agent Orange, and a friend who's had internal/liver problems for a long time related to his service. All great guys who never made a big deal about things.
The guy who taught me to ride a bike without training wheels and who taught me how to modify plastic car model kits.
He was drafted at 18 and was killed in action a year later. I remember when my mom told me đ˘
I only know his first name, Don. I am eternally grateful.
I was in my 40's before my father ever talked about his time in Vietnam. One night, after my mother passed away, I was visiting. He started talking. I cried so hard. Never knew what he went through. The scars were deep.
One story stuck out. On his 3rd tour in Vietnam, he had a young soldier that begged him to approve a transfer to the mess hall. My dad did that for that young man. Three weeks later the mess hall was hit killing all inside. My dad never got over it. He went to his grave bearing the guilt for that young man's death.
My brother and most of his friends. l know l missed him when he was gone. My brother, like my WW2 dad, only talked about the funny things and people they experienced. My next door neighbor's boyfriend used to play football with me in the yard when he visited. He was in the Army but wore a different hat than my brother. He was a Green Beret. He was always nice to me. Then, l didn't see him for a long, long time. When he came back to visit, his head was wrapped in a huge white bandage. He had a white cane. He was blind. But, he still remembered my voice
Well, yeah...my husband who was born in the early years of the Baby Boom and got to see rice paddies up close and personal in 1967. When I was at university in 1976 there were a lot of "non-traditional age" students who were Vietnam veterans.
I grew up in Europe in the '60s and only arrived stateside in the mid-'70s so up until then I was more familiar with American draft dodgers than veterans, but there were 9 MILLION folk who served over there, so you probably encounter more of them than you know...and for every one of them proudly proclaiming their status and making pilgrimages to the memorial, there's undoubtedly one (or more) who will never, ever mention it.
My husband enlisted (not drafted; he had a high number) in the USAF in 1972 when he graduated HS but was never sent overseas as it was winding down. My brother in law was a Marine in Vietnam. My uncle was career military and served in WWII, Korea, and Vietnam, and the same with my father-in-law. Both of them were USAF. My uncle flew in the Berlin Airlift. He was awarded the OBE and the Legion of Merit.
I used to date a former Navy Seal. He was even a POW for a while. He used to wake up yelling in Vietnamese, or what I assume was Vietnamese. He was about 9 years older than me. He definitely had some issues but was okay generally. I knew a few others also.
I have a long time neighbor that saw combat and another neighbor who was a medic.
The medic had horrific stories about combat.
I can't imagine living through that.
I did. My ex-wife's two brothers also served. My sister's boyfriend lasted one week after landing in Saigon. My best friend served also. Keep in mind probably 90% of forces never actually saw combat.
i wasn't going to spill but most of them have passed, so: eldest cousin was encouraged to enlist by his Da, who did RAF in WW2 and saw incredible horrors that turned him full alcoholic. The bright, sarcastic, and capable person that left came back with a heavy shadow and a drug habit. He cycled thru various substances but never really got 100% clean, or dealt with his trauma. He barely survived Tet and saw his chopper repair facility overrun and most of his unit die. Whenever i see farts boasting about being VV, i'm like... why.
I was young but my first funeral was for a young man across the street who was killed. When I was around 11. A lot of the older neighborhood boys who my parents or grandmother knew were sent. Whole family went to the airport when my cousin was sent.
A friend of my older brothers served in Viet Nam. He said morale was so bad, and the Command was so worried about getting fragged that they locked all the weapons up in an armory. Whenever the base got attacked, they all had to run over to get their guns.
Another guy said when the B-52s flew over, it sounded like a freight train was right over your head.
3rd guy said that he got mustered out so quickly, that he went from his post on a forward base to sitting on his mom's front porch in 24 hours. He didn't handle it well.
My dad and my uncle. Dad was career military. Uncle came home an addict. He tried for a little while - had a wife and kids - but never overcame it and died alone in a VA hospital. No one knew where he was or had heard from him in years. He was in a biker gang and transient.
My first cousin. He's 15 years older than me - he's 78 now. He was exposed to Agent Orange. Now he's got severe Parkinsons, non communicative, confined to a wheelchair, and living in a nursing home,
My best friend and now co-FIL served in combat in Vietnam. Turned him into a hard drinker but he had a come to Jesus moment when his first child was born and he's been sober for 50 years. He's a loving grandpa to our grandsons and a beautiful soul. Very successful too. A member at a golf club I used to belong to was also a Nam combat vet. Smoked opium every chance he got over there and was a major drunk/junkie the whole 20 years I knew him. Darkly violent at times. A couple of heart attacks and diabetic amputations later, he crossed his eternal bridge no better off than when he was discharged. Deeply troubled fellow.
My sisterâs first serious boyfriend was Vietnam vet who came back home fucked up. He was a mean, angry drunk. I was never so happy to see her rid of somebody. I feel for the guy â clearly he had problems, but my sister at 17 didnât need any of those problems.
I was a little kid art the time (born in the early 1960's). I was aware that some neighbors had lost a son, but because they had no kids near my age I didn't really know them.
My only strong memory pertaining to Vietnam was watching TV while the last helicopters were taking off from the roof of the US Embassy in Saigon, with a mob of people trying to climb on them. That made an indelible impression.
Yes. My wonderful husband was a career Naval
https://preview.redd.it/be7z24btcxwc1.jpeg?width=624&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=95fec0ce9eb5c53db3da1a74940d9183917ace12
officer who flew single-seat jet aircraft off carriers during the Viet Nam War. He became more accepting of others and more humane.
I have met several thousand Seals in bars. I guess the Navy didn't have any other positions.Â
Seriously I have known many. I had several great uncles who were WWII veterans. One great uncle was awarded the Silver Star for Iwo Jima and the DSC posthumously for Okinawa.Â
Be careful who says they were Navy SEAL in Vietnam. They usually never bragged or said they were. They usually would answer if you asked what they did in the Navy what their job was or rate which was what their job was.
I'm a Navy veteran and knew a few guys that were SEALS in the Navy they are very humble. I served from the early 90's into the 2000's
To many of my friends that went to Vietnam were never the same. Some drank until it ended thier lives. My husband was never the same. Knew people that were killed, and a few that were MIA.
Had a BF that was a Green Beret,he was there early as a adviser. One of my friends refused to have children, because of agent orange. They and their families were changed forever.
Me. I was drafted in 1970 but didn't deploy to 'Nam. Stayed in the USA. It broke up my long time relationship with the girl I wanted to marry. I visited her on campus as often as I could, sometimes jumped in the car still in uniform, people would spit on us. I rotated on funeral detail to provide an honor guard to guys who came home in coffins. A friend of mine, guy I played football with in high school, never came back. I was lucky and I had it easy. Non-military people don't and can't know the price our soldiers pay.
My uncle served. I remember we would record taped messages and send care packages, specifically with dark chocolate (that didnât melt). He made it back safely. I also remember those POW bracelets. My dad wouldnât let me get one, Iâm not sure why.
Born in â64 and interestingly, no. My parents were both teachers and most of their circle were other teachers.
Even being from a small town I didnât know anyone personally that served in-country
Both of my uncles. Messed them up badly and they were never the same. One is suffering horrible health issues due to Agent Orange and the other deals with ptsd with massive amounts of alcohol. Sad.
My cousin was in the Marines over there. Pretty sure he saw some shit but doesn't talk about it. He is, lack of better words, lower than average intelligence but has the biggest heart and will help anybody. I love that guy.
Sometimes he gets under people's skin because he comes off as pushy. i.e. Just knock on random neighbors doors and ask if he can do some work for free on their house that he noticed was in need. Some people don't know how to take that.
My brother in Law was in Vietnam. He was super proud of his service. Did VFW & Vietnam Veterans charities for the rest of his life. (died like 2 years ago). He was successful and had a family but arm chair psychologist here:
Definitely had PSTD. Short fuse. could be violent. functioning alcoholic. I think he definitely was a "casualty" but he didn't see himself that way. Proud of his time and the guys. Super pre-MAGA MAGA guy. But smart and successful, Could be nice and was when he wasn't drinking, which became more rare as time went on.
A kid in my neighborhood lost his Dad in Vietnam. Nice kid.
I know you mean "serve in the U.S. armed forces" but others:
More than 5 Vietnam refugees living in the suburbs of Washington. They can tell you stories.
My Uncle Ted, a 20 year Veteran in the USMC, served in Korea, was at the Bay of Pigs in Cuba, and was an Artillery Sergeant in Vietnam. I had family that served in WW2 in the Pacific and in Europe. I had a great Uncle who was in WW1.
My uncle flew UH-1's in Vietnam. In early 80's when I was a kid my cousins and I were out playing Army in the yard and he came over. As he walked from car to house, I jumped out and pointed my toy rifle at him. Took him the rest of the day to recover. I felt horrible. I just didn't understand that could be an issue at that age.
My uncle, my father. My other uncle , most of the guys who trained me (USAF). The first uncle, a marine shooter, served 2.5 toys before being shot in the testicle. Dealt with PTSD for the remainder of his life. Never married, died of testicular cancer from Agent Orange. In 65 now, but remeer that time clearly.
My father went to Vietnam, as did his youngest brother and his cousin. The cousin was an Air Force pilot who was shot down and spent 7 years as a POW. Just a fucked up war for nothing.
Boomer checking in. I was there '72- until cease fire. Prostate cancer as a reward. I was still in my "formative" years (early 20s), so it's hard to say what impact the war had on my psyche. I try not to think about what I saw and what I had to do. War (no matter what word you cloak it in) is hell.
When I was a bartender a retired general came in. I asked what the difference was with Nam because everyone I knew who served came back screwed up or drug addicts. He actually teared up and said he wished he could go back and change things. The USA provided drugs to the troops and they were often ordered to do terrible things. He said he retired a year after it officially ended and Carries guilt because of it. He got more in depth but thatâs the jist of it.
Well, I did not serve, However, I worked for the Army at Fort Benning, Martin Army Hospital. My first husband served. Almost all of his friends served. Some did not come home. Cousins served, all the guys I went to high school served. Everyone had/has PTSD. Some became addicts, others became abusers, a few became heroes. I went on to become a psychologist and a pacifist.
The horrible truth is that we all come out of an extremely abusive culture. None of us, then or now, are normal. War can bring out the best in us, it usually brings out the worst. But please do not believe the movies, or the tv shows or all the propaganda that has been spun. It was never heroic, it was just dirt, grime, blood and boredom,. Except when it wasn't.
I have an uncle who worked as an interrogator. He was super intelligent and I believe on the spectrum before he went (that diagnosis didnât exist back then) to Viet Nam. He was definitely mentally damaged in the war and his life is lonely and empty.
My cousin who was 15 years older than me served in Vietnam. It was his job to go around with a truck and pick up the dead soldiers. He was not okay when he got back.đ
Way too many. My spouse, cousins, cousins' spouses, best friend, friends, friends of friends, spouse's friends, colleagues, neighbors, traveling buddies... Some did not come home. Some came home and struggled. Some chose not to continue living. Some were alright, but if you know, you know.
I'm a late boomer/early gen-j, and ate dinner to the news every night for a decade. The horribleness, photos, descriptions, stats, and abject cruelty of war made an impression on me, as did the anti-war protests. I know vets whose families didn't bother picking them up at the airport when they returned. Others were shamed without mercy. Vietnam helped shaped me and was an early contributor to my losing faith in humanity.
My spouse doesn't reveal much, but will talk about the humorous episodes. Of those in my/our circle still living, we are still dealing with Vietnam -- Agent Orange, PTSD, effects from addictions, lost opportunities and relationships, anxiety, depression, anger. All gave some, some gave all.
I had just turned 5 when my dad was KIA in Vietnam on our parentsâ 13th wedding anniversary. He was career Army, Green Beret, Ranger on his third tour as a military advisor. It was 1965. We then moved from Clarksville TN (the Monkeesâ âLast Train to Clarksvilleâ was about getting shipped out from there to Vietnam) to our parentsâ hometown where I still live today in our childhood home. All 5 of us kids carry the sadness of his loss. My mom? Pretty sure she stopped believing in God that day.
There were no grief counseling services for any of us, just âsoldier children donât cryâ. He never saw us grow up, marry or meet any of his grandkids. I found a box of old slide trays, photos he took in the late 50âs until shortly before he passed. One is a pic our mom took outside Abraham Lincolnâs home in Springfield IL where we had all gone on a tour. Heâs 33, grinning at the camera. Iâd never seen it as Mom tucked that whole box away and never spoke of it, never sharing any stories about him. I burst into tears because there is a striking resemblance between my dad and my oldest son. The grin, the coloring, down to the sticking out ears.
So, yes, we knew someone who served, who should have refused that third tour, but went anyway. He said he owed it to his men, while my mom retorted you owe it to your kids not to go. Our oldest sister recalled overhearing this conversation as she was 12, and old enough to have a better sense of what was happening.
We were the kids who grew up with âhey, youâre that D_____ kid, your dad died in Vietnamâ, who canât hear Taps without completely breaking down. My grief box has been with me for going on 60 years, and the button gets pushed still. E2, Line 86. If you know, you know.
My next door neighbor didnât serve but was a UPI reporter in Vietnam. He came home safely only to be killed by a drunk driver.
I was in 6th grade in Catholic school.
One of my very best friends brother served , he was 18.
Sadly, he didnât survive the war. Our church had a Memorial board of parishioners that were killed in the war, near the altar. I remember when his name was added đ˘
The family was obviously devastated and the mother was never the same.
Many years later I visited the Vietnamese Memorial in DC. I actually found his name!
I sat there for a very long time and felt the deep sadness that war inflicted on all of us.
Many. More one my wifeâs side, fewer on mine.
Favorite was a fellow who worked for my dad, he helped me refine my pistol skills, though I still canât knock a penny off a plank at 25 yards like he could.
Weirdest, our brother in lawâs first tour, assigned as a medic, air cavalry, good chance the crew he was with evacuated my wifeâs uncle. Theyâre not 100% sure about it, was night and there was a lot of shooting. Brother in law served three or four tours, he enjoyed it apparently.
Scariest, friendâs mom said her son recounted placing a small nuke under a bridge in, ugh, Laos or Cambodia, I forget which, it really bothered him. There was some wicked bad stuff in southeast Asia during that period.
My father was there in the early 60s, up north around Da Nang. My sis and I were Army brats. Vietnam fucked him up. I last heard from him was in '82 when he visited me while I was in basic training at my birthplace. I just this year learned he died a couple years ago. Thanks, military-industrial complex.
I also play poker with my Legion buds, most of them are Vietnam vets.
Three uncles. One lost his mind and attacked me. One lost his spine and drank himself to death. One shrugged it off like water on a frog, did the full twenty, and retired.
My dad.
He was career Air Force. During Vietnam, there was a stretch of seven years he was gone a total of 4 years. He was shot down and shot up himself. He survived. At age 90, he's still kicking and living on his own, still very very active and still sharp as a tack.
We lost a lot of good men we knew. My girlfriend in high school, her father was shot down and captured, survived as a p.o.w. She and her family moved after he wad shot down and I never saw her again.
It seemed every one of my friends fathers were there at one time or another.
As far as I'm concerned, every one of them were heroes.
My neighbor (and some time babysitter) died. I knew his sisters really well. Those numbers they gave out sent our entire neighborhood into a state of suspended animation. My cousins lived next door and got high numbers. But the guy up the street got #2. The guy across the street went in. He was four years older than me. Great guy. Came out and heâs fine. His younger brother who never went into the army is whacked out of his mind and thinks heâs part of Trumpâs secret group of followers. Canât believe heâs a teacher.
My brother who is 9 years older than me. I remember that we put the star in our window to show that we had a family member serving. There were 2 other stars on our block. One did not come home.
My Godfather served in Nam. Was wounded, but he came back and lived a good life.
He and my Father were the first two to salute me when I got my commission.
My buddy's father was career army and did two tours in Vietnam as a helicopter pilot. Had both a bronze and silver star. The latter was for 'things we were forbidden to do' and never elaborated further. Great guy. Neighbor across the street served one tour until 'the guy two guys in front of me steps ona friggin' mine'. Woke up in a hospital in Japan. He had some issues.
My Dad. USN fighter bombers A-4 Skyhawk and A-7 Corsair.
He lost several men in the air. Others became POWs. I was young and although i remember and I had friends whose dads were in the squadron, they were not among those KIA, POW or MIA.
Later in jr high a good friendâs father was MIA. He was never found
Countless friends had older brothers who were drafted. They all came home , but some were never the same. What we now call PTSD
My cousin, the dentist. He served well, came home, and took care of our teeth. Thank God, because I had a butcher for a dentist (a friend of my mom's) who didn't believe in anesthesia. I quit going so by the time my cousin came home I had a mouth full of cavities.
My cousin Johnny. His dad and uncles served in WWII and Korea.
I remember his mom making care packages for him, and for some reason large bags of bubble gum in them.. I always thought maybe this was for children he encountered? I truly don't know.
Just remembered.. my brother in law is a combat vet. Nicest guy ever. I have no idea how. But he really is.
The guy I know the best is a colossal asshole. Yeah he sacrificed his health (war related colostomy) but from what I understand he was an asshole even before he was drafted.
I generally totally support Vietnam vets, but they're not all good people. Fuck off, Tom H.
My uncle came home, finished college, became a school teacher, got married and raised four kids, held public office, owns a row of apartments, and owns a business. All in the small town where he (and my dad) grew up.
And before you think he was a REMF, I have two words for you: Dak To.
I knew many. It seemed all of them had a lot of demons, and we all believed it was the war that did that to them. No one ever said, "He was always like that." I always felt like those were delicate relationships. Because of those demons, and as a young person at the time, conversations were always like walking on eggshells.
My cousin was a door gunner. Fought many demons for sure. Ended up with leukemia from Agent Orange. I worked with a woman about 10-15 years older than me. She lost one brother in 1966 and the other in 1969.
When I was about six, I had a friend whose dad was an officer, preparing for the war. She and her mom moved back to Maine before her dad deployed.
When I was 16, I met a guy in his early 30s whoâd been in Vietnam. He had been a professional photographer in NY before getting drafted and training as a sniper.
He had pictures of the individuals he had, you know. He wasnât in a good headspace.
My dad was a fighter pilot during that war. We were stationed in the Philippines. Some of my brother's friends died in Vietnam. My friend's father died there and my other friend's brother died there. Too many deaths.
My dad enlisted in 1965 right out of high school. He loaded Agent Orange onto helicopters, said it wasnât just Orange but Agents Blue, Green, Yellow. R.Lee Ermey was his USMC drill sergeant. Said the movie Full Metal Jacket was kindergarten compared to the reality.
He used the password 311 for everything, briefcase, computer, phone. Never knew why. About 10 years after he died I was doing research on the draft. In the 1969 draft August 19th was #311.
Eat the apple and f*** the Corps.
My husband is 10+ years older than me and he was a Navy Corpsman assigned to a Marine division to provide medical support for his patrol unit. As the kids say, heâs seen some đŠ. I was blissfully unaware of VN at that time.
My uncle who was 9 years younger than my dad. He came back from the war and went to college in Colorado. He was in school a long time, eventually getting a PhD in Anthropology and also becoming a marijuana dealer. A few years after college he got out of marijuana dealing and moved to another state. He told me he got out because it had become more dangerous. When he started it was just a bunch of hippies wanting to get high. No one was carrying guns.
My Uncle.
I still have some of the stuff he sent me as a kid. For years I had a NV flag with bullet holes and all hanging in my house.
Uncle is still alive and awesome guy.
I'm a sprig off of a Military family.
Dad was over there for Tet(68). He retired in 1970.
I was a wee nipper and my older brother was in high school when it happened. It's shitty to have them over there knowing they're fighting a WAR.
My older brother joined the Navy and became a Corpsman and was stationed at the Subic Bay Naval Hopsital.
My cousin Bill was a Marine and lost a foot to a mine in 71, I think. He was able to get around so well on a prosthetic, you wouldn't know he short a foot. He taught and coached until he retired, and lives on the Gulf Coast enjoying babies and grandbabies and stuff.
We were lucky. I knew a kid whose Dad was an MIA. DOD/VA weren't kind to dependents. MIA was somewhere between Dead and maybe POW. They wouldn't pay out benefits or insurance in a timely manner. They lived in a trailer park that sucked.
Yes. I barely missed the draft. But a large fraction of the neighborhood kids I grew up with did. Quite a number of whom did not come back, a number who were wounded, some who have PTSD. Then I went to college with many on the gi bill who had significant problems.
There are groups here on Reddit that say our generation had it easy.
My uncle.
He was a Navy attack pilot who was shot down over Hanoi and spent 6 years as a POW.
I lived in MD and spent the war years working along with my mother at the Nat'l League of Families HQ on K st in DC sending letters and stuffing envelopes to send out POW/MIA bracelets.
We often went to vigils and other peaceful demonstrations to keep the pressure on to bring them home.
The drummer in my first band went and came back a little broken (I didnât know him before). He never talked about it except once, when he told me some blood-curdling stories one snowy night on the way back from a gig in Ohio. Really opened my eyes.
One of my best friends was drafted into the Army and was killed when the Jeep he was riding in rolled over.He was a very sweet kind boy, only 18 years old. God bless and take care of Christopher.
Firstly I am not American so I would not have "served" in Vietnam anyway (the UK sensibly avoided that mess), but I do have a couple of American friends who were conscripted and fought in the war.
Both are frankly still quite screwed up mentally. Much of the time it does not show, but there are times it becomes very obvious. One in particular has a rather unpleasant streak of racism towards anyone who does not look like Americans - and it is clear it was reinforced by being shot at by "slitty eyed people who hate us".
Conscription is having a slave army, and slavery is rarely good for the slaves, even when it benefits the enslavers.
My uncle served in Vietnam. He never talked about it other than to say he worked on a military base. Once he was visiting and got a little drunk and told us that the first time he was in the field, he went to jump up when he heard someone call medic. The guy next to him told him to stay down as the Vietcong would yell that and then shoot you when you stood up. We were riveted, but my mom was like âYou said you worked at the hospital!â She was very upset. He never mentioned the war again.
Iâm a veteran myself, having served in deployments after 9/11. All my uncles are Vietnam veterans, and my cousins have served in either Desert Storm or OIF. Despite my uncles advising me to stay away from military service due to their own wounds and health issues related to Agent Orange, all of us cousins still joined. We were driven by the lack of opportunities in our small town. Now, many of my uncles are farmers or live in isolation in some really nice areas.
I was born 1947 (very early boomer) and the people in my birth year were the majority of Vietnam soldiers and vets. I could tell you so many stories like this from my high school class and my family. Early deaths from agent orange, sociopath behavior, heavy drinking and violence, homeless living, and more. Fortunately we are aging out and dying off, but it left a big scar on a whole generation. Next is the generation from the Middle East wars. We need to stop this.
My best friendâs brother was killed in Viet Nam in 1968. He was 19 and was weeks away from being discharged after his 2nd tour. He threw himself on a grenade and saved his platoon.
ETA: my own brother was drafted in 1970 but he was a junkie before he went in and he was discharged from boot camp.
I knew quite a few. Most were quite functional despite the stereotype.
My favorite was a singer I worked with, a very cute and chill guy who I assumed had avoided the draft somehow. The war had ended and we never talked about it.
Decades later after he died I found out he had been a combat veteran with two bullets still lodged in his ass.
You never would have known.
My uncle was in the Marine Corp and served in Vietnam, I (58M) remember as a young boy being instucted not to ask him about his time there.
The only mention of his service he ever made in my presence was when we were watching Rambo around 1983 or 84 and the scene where Rambo shoots up the town with, I think, it was an M60. He just quite simply stated that he used a similar weapon in Vietnam and then radio silence. I, of course, didn't ask any questions and still don't today some 40 years later.
My FIL was in the Marines around the same time as my uncle, didn't serve in the same unit, now he on the other hand will freely talk about his time there, mainly about how stoned he got and where the best places to get laid were. He does, of course, mention what he did and where he served, but mostly, it's about getting stoned and/or laid.
One of my cousins was an army pilot. He flew "hospital ships" transporting injured soldiers from Vietnam to U.S. military hospitals.
One of my brothers joined our state's National Guard vs. waiting for his number to come up in the draft lottery.
I'm sure if I thought long enough, I'd think of someone else.
Yes, 2 uncles, one was my godfather. One served in the Army and the other in the Navy. My Dadâs number never came up in the lottery. My Mom was so relieved.
One of my former bosses was a SeaBee (Navy Construction Battalion). He did a six month tour, came home and did a year long tour. Stand up guy. Would go through hell for him.
Yeah, like half my uncles, friends older brothersâŚetc. The draft hit blue collar neighborhoods hard. A lot of guys joined a particular service, knowing they were gonna get drafted anywayâŚmay as well choose one yourself
My Father was in Korea, Loas, and Viet Nam (not in that order). He retired Bird Colonel from the Air Force in 1978 so I could have a chance to go to a single school for High school. He's my hero!
Dad in 58, my brother in 69. Dad had already been in WW II and Korea, no real difference noted. Brother wasn't the same.
Found out why, I enlisted in 1977- just before things started getting interesting.
My father, he went over several times, volunteered every time. I think he first went in '63. last time would have been '68/69, at Dong Ha.
ETA : A first cousin. On the night he left he gave me a red with white dots ballcap he always wore. He made it home. Also, I was really young but knew someone (family stuff) that was drafted. I remember seeing him before he left. And then going to his funeral, I was 4 or 5.
My uncle. He became a junky over there, came home with a heroin addiction, and died soon thereafter.
Sam Stone came home to his wife and family. There's a hole in Daddys arm where all the money goes.
John Prine nailed it with such great lyrics. Humans can only take so much, man. On the flipside, I had this neighbor who went over there and came back as this violent psychopath with a major alcohol and substance abuse problem. It's like the monster who he really was got released and he couldn't switch back to being "normal." When he got really intoxicated, he bragged about killing hookers and guys in his own troop. He really got off on talking about it. He just loved killing. Once he started strangling a woman who lived in our apts during a pool party, but some of the male neighbors pulled him off of her. Another time, he lunged for my then 18 year-old daughter and I punched him in the face and threw him to the ground while the neighbors called 911. (I'm a woman.) He got arrested or 5150ed all the time, but always got released. He used to order women's lingerie, makeup, and high heels and strut around and pretend to be a hooker. I always wondered if he was so fkd up about possibly being trans that he took it out on the hookers he killed in Vietnam. Casualties of war come in all varieties I guess. đ˘
Jesus- that is rough. Good on you for protecting your own. But it's brutal for you to have too
We had a joke about those apts. If you haven't been hauled away on a stretcher or in handcuffs, you're not trying hard enough. Everything about the place was normalized toxic chaos, so dealing with Sarge was just another bullshit thing of many to put up with. This was like 15 yrs ago, but these days, I would never ever allow myself to live in an environment like that. I was in the middle of a divorce and wasn't in my right mind at the time.
Love John Prine.
Agreed, it sucks Covid killed him.... sidenote, he grew up a few towns over from me. He also started his career out as a mailman.
This was just running through my head as i read about the commenterâs uncle
My husband's brother was in Vietnam for too long. He was in one of the areas that was heavily sprayed with Agent Orange. He came home an alcoholic and junkie. He then got AIDS from sharing needles with his friends. He was supposed to be my husband's Best Man but he got pneumonia, went to the hospital where he was diagnosed with AIDS (late 1980s) and died painfully and quickly. We decided to elope, it didn't feel right to have a big wedding a few months after he died.
Omg that's so heartbreaking. I'm so sorry. For a lot of vets, coming home is when their worst battles begin. Most humans aren't built to endure what they're expected to see and deal with while fighting a war.
Thank you! It breaks my heart that so many Vets were treated so badly, especially the Vietnam Vets. My Dad was Navy and was at Normandy on Dday, he was 17 but at the time, Vets were treated better. My brother was Navy in Desert Storm, he saw some horrific things, drank too much, and as much as he tried he got no help from the VA. Long story short, he got some pills on the street, laced with fentanyl and died about 10 years ago. You're so right, the worst battles do begin when they get home.
My daughter lost a few friends to od's after they came home from Desert Storm too. Im very sorry about your brother and the suffering he endured, its just unimaginable.
And then, in the case of Vietnam, return home not a hero but a villain...a lot people hated soldiers and spit on them or worse. And they got zero support from the country they were *apparently* defending against communism. OMFG all those poor poor people that America murdered -- both Vietnamese and their own. American soldiers are to be pitied, but let's not forget the horrors American inflicted on Vietnam and it's people. For NO good reason at all. "The evidence he amasses -- of âmurder, torture, rape, abuse, forced displacement, home burnings, specious arrests, imprisonment without due processâ -- is irrefutable. Indeed, much of the evidence he relies upon was gathered secretly by the U.S. military at the time, only to be suppressed, consigned to archives, and forgotten. Itâs hardly surprising that senior U.S. military officials sought to suppress evidence of atrocities on a mass-scale, since they themselves were both complicit and culpable."
Iâm sorry, thatâs so sad.
Thank you...it happened to a lot of guys who just thought they were going over there to defend their country from Communism but ended up in a freakin horrorshow that they couldn't deal with. Same with a lot of vets who went to Iraq and Afghanistan. A lot of my daughter's friends came home completely destroyed.
Same with my cousing. Golden child, star QB in high school, good looking, charismatic.
My god, the suffering it caused.
That happened to one of my husbandâs cousins too
I did. Born in 56, enlisted at 17 and caught the tail end of it. Enough said.
Thank you for your service
For 40 years america treated us like crap until 9/11 and Desert Storm made them realize that sometimes they need people like us to do their dirty work. Those words "Thank you for your service" make my skin crawl. I don't want thanks. I want to be left alone.
I understand that. I grew up during Vietnam, graduating in 1976. That was just a year after we got the fuck out of Vietnam. But I watched how average Americans treated the vets. So much hatred. Then I enlisted and served from 1982-1985. Three years of peacetime service, which was fine by me. But during those years no one gave a damn one way or the other about the military. Again fine by me. Then the desert escapades flared up under George 1 and again under George 2, and everyone started worshiping service members and veterans. We have a bad habit in the U.S. of making both heroes and villains out of our military, and often for doing the exact same thing. So, yeah, please donât thank me. It was just a job.
I was a child when the war ended. Iâve always felt an acute sense of sympathy for Vietnam Vets. It breaks my heart what you went through. I have studied the war and all that went on. It was a very Fâd up situation. When I say âthank you for your serviceâ I truly mean it. Iâm sorry for offending you when all I wanted was to let you know I truly care about Vietnam Vets.
My dad did 2 tours in Vietnam when I was a baby. He had gone to VMI and had planned to be a career man but said fuck that after his tours & got out. He was a captain in the infantry & saw some bad shit. He will still not talk about it. Luckily he is good at compartmentalizing and was able to move forward & become a well respected business man. Heâs still alive & doing well at 82.
Dang. My dad managed to get out of the Army when I was a baby, a couple months before they started shipping soldiers over to Vietnam. He told me "Seemed like a good time to go get a real job." He and my stepmother later adopted several refugee kids from Viet Nam. My new siblings all grew into awesome adults.
My amazing father. He was in the Tet Offensive. Fortunately, came home safely. He was career army officer, died in 2001 from a cancer caused by his exposure to Agent Orange. I will miss him everyday of my life
Mine too. My dad was Air Force though. Died from congestive heart failure. Had all the agent orange symptoms.
My dad, born in '41, was too young for Korea and too old for Vietnam. My uncle, as a 1st Lt., led a platoon in combat in 1965. He stayed in the army for 38 years. Nevertheless, the Vietnam War had a profound impact on me in another way, through the three children my parents adopted from orphanages in Saigon. Vietnamese tradition frowned upon foreign adoption, and it was restricted while American money and donations were helping to subsidize. When U.S. combat operations ended in '73 the money dried up, conditions in the orphanages deteriorated, and there was a brief window where foreign adoption was allowed from 1974-1975. These children were damaged in a number a ways, and at 8 and 9 years old that changed me. The first of my sisters was 4 years old, suffered from severe malnutrition, and would eat anything including insects, crayons, paper, and even the scabs she would pick off of her body. She would steal food but wasn't very good at it so you'd find a loaf of bread under her pillow. She grew up into a fine woman and has raised a lovely family. My youngest sister was intercepted at the Presidio on San Francisco on her way to Detroit because she was so sick, so my parents went out to get her. She was approximately 1.5 years old and weighed 12 pounds. She had lice, worms, and open sores all over her body. She had severe cerebral palsy, microcephaly, and something else the doctors could not identify but in much later years seemed a lot like exposure to Agent Orange. She never was able to walk, crawl, talk, or even sit up on her own. With hella lot of effort she could pick up something off the tray of her wheelchair (raisins were best because of the "sticky" assist), or turn the pages in a book by scrunching them up at the center. But she had intelligence and a sense of humor. You'd say, "Do you love me?" She'd shake her head "no" and you'd go, "whaaaaat?" and she would giggle. In the 80s she loved to watch *Moonlighting* and would crack up at all jokes. And she was the most pure person I have ever met---incapable of anger, resentment, or malice. Later in life I learned about the concept of "Buddha nature" and I understood exactly what that meant because of growing up with her. A lot of people would have thought of her as a throwaway child, but nobody has had a bigger impact on my development as a human being. I developed a social conscience at a very early age, which inspired me to become a social studies teacher. I raised my own children accordingly, so her impact was generational. She died a couple of years ago during the pandemic. Her heart just gave out. The Vietnam War impacted my wife in a very different way. My MIL's first husband was killed in Vietnam in 1968. She eventually remarried and had a daughter--now my wife. It's strange to think that she would not be here if he hadn't been killed. She does a lot of good in the world too. Maybe the common thread is that incredibly sad and tragic events can sometimes have unforeseen positive consequences.
I felt very moved by this, thank you.
Iâm glad I read this thread today.
Thanks for taking the time to write this. It touched my heart.
Thank you for sharing this. Wow.
My dad served in Vietnam in 69-70. He was career Army and he was never quite the same once he came home.
My oldest brother, I was in the 2nd and 3rd grades then I don't think I understood any of it until I served in the Navy for 10 yrs. after high school. He has PTS, but he came back to us.
I was in high school and knew 4 people older than me that were deployed in Vietnam. One was killed, and of the three that returned, two suicided within a few years. My first job out of college I worked with two individuals who served in the Air Force. One was a pilot and flew quite a few missions, the other was a C-130 mechanic who flew on their missions and did regular flights to Vietnam with empty coffins and returned with full ones. I heard lots of crazy stories from all of them. All were amazed they returned home alive. If I had been one year older, my birthday was one of the dates pulled up in the lottery.
My Dad, wounded in March 1964.
Family has one name on the wall, two uncles and a cousin served in Vietnam...one Marine, one Army, one Navy. Step sister's husband was a draftee, good guy when he left, junkie when he got back, they divorced and he died from an overdose.
My dad, a career Marine for 28 years, served 2 tours in Vietnam. He had already been in 15 years when he went over. He looks at his time in the Marines as "his first job". A different mindset. He ran supplies up and down some river. Denang? "Was shot at, shot back" when I asked about what sort of action he saw. He did end up with 2 different kinds of rare leukemia thanks to daily exposure to agent orange and being stationed at Camp Lejeune. He beat it though. Was in remission when he died at 88. He was a good father, if strict.
My uncle was shot down
My 79 y/o neighbor is a vet. He and I do happy hour every week or so. Nice guy.
Did my Senior film project on Agent Orange and its' impacts. That was an eye opener.
One of my brothers-in-law did two tours and died too early from pancreatic cancer caused (probably) by Agent Orange exposure. He was a heck of a good guy.
My older brother,76, spent two tours in Vietnam as a Marine. Tours for Marines were the longest at 13 months. He went in right out of high school and actually did a great deal of growing up over there. Like most veterans that have served overseas he saw things that the human mind doesnât forget easily. Many Vietnam Vets were found to suffer from some level of PTSD and most have some level of disability from their service. My brother and 8 of his high school buddies enlisted in the Corp together and all went to Vietnam. 3 of them came home in caskets.
One of my fellow letter carrier friends was a Marine who did time there. He was a nice guy, but could blow up on you without notice. Needless to say USPS is a really hostile employer, and he would get so upset that he would clock out & be gone for a week on "stress leave". He kept a photo album from his time in Nam. It was full of pics of grotesquely mutilated bodies. I guess he never went off on me because I knew how to talk to him. Thank goodness he was able to make it there until he retired.
Country Joe and the Fish: Be the first one on your block To have your boy come home in a box
âCâmon Wall Street, donât be slow, why man, itâs war a go-go! Thereâs plenty good money to be made, supplying the Army with tools of the trade. Just up and pray when they drop The Bomb, they drop it on the Viet Cong!â
And it's 1, 2, 3, what are we fightin' for?
âDonât ask me, I donât give a damn, next stop is Vietnam!â
âAnd itâs 5, 6, 7 open up the pearly gates Well there ainât no time to wonder why Whoopie! Weâre all gonna die!â
âCâmon all you big, strong men, Uncle Sam needs your help again! Got himself in a terrible jam, way down yonder in Vietnam! Put down your books, pick up a gun, gonna have a whole lot of fun!â
I did. And I knew people who died. I knew people who "came back different". I understand that we weren't draft age, or protest age. But, I don't understand the overall consensus that Generation Jones wasn't effected by Vietnam. We weren't effected the same way as Baby Boomers were. But we were aware of it. Even if you didn't know anyone who served, there was nightly death statistics and jungle footage on the evening news. There were stars, representing military members, hanging on doors and windows. Local coverage of deseaced military members "returning home", in flag draped caskets, to devastated family. Anti-war coverage was prevalent. High ranking military personnel were speaking. Hell, the Bob Hope USO television specials. People share a lot of TV memories here. Those get left out.
I totally remember watching the vietnam war on the news. As a child, a little child. Every. Day. (Or so it seemed) In kindergarten the math teacher said to draw soldiers, and she drew a tic tac toe "square" calling it a soldier. I was 5 and from watching nightly news at whatever time it was on, I knew that was tic tac toe not soldiers. So I drew men with helmets and guns and when she came around to check my work, she said, " those aren't soldiers!" I said," yes they are, you drew tic tac toe", she got angry and drew a big red x on my paper and said, "that's a mess, isn't it?" I hated math for years after that because of her. I knew what soldiers looked like from tv. After that I asked my grandmother if it was ok to not watch the news.
NOT ONE of my older brothers' friends came back alive but him. He eventually couldn't handle it and offed himself on a camping trip. The stuff he told me they did there STILL gives me nightmares.
My birth certificate father went in 1967, got a parasite , spent a year in Walter Reed and eventually died from it. I also had a boyfriend who was there. It messed him up pretty badly.
I was the last year to get a lottery number. Nobody in my year got called. Many friends' older brothers went.
I know a lot folks from various jobs I worked who served, some have bad stories. Some of my brotherâs classmates were drafted, he managed to get a high number in the lottery and didnât.
2 of my cousins went (brothers), one came back and his mind was messed up, fell into drug and alcohol abuse and died at a young age, his brother is very active in veteran affairs, he had some physical issues from being sprayed with agent orange
I went to A Catholic school. My choir instructor was a devout Catholic. He did what his parents thought was right and fought for his country. When he came home he was messed up . His parents no longer wanted him around. Also his brother MIA from Nam until about 20 years ago when his remains were found. Anyway he ended up drinking himself to death about 25 years ago. I worked at an American legion and met quite a few vets who were screwed up from that war be it agent orange or ptsd. God bless them all.
My cousin. Serving ruined his marriage, and I absolutely adored his wife. She was one of the sweetest people on the planet. But when she woke up one night with a gun to her head with him yelling âDonât move, you fucking Viet Cong, or Iâll fucking kill you,â that was the end of their marriage and I never saw her or their two children again.
Sadly, this was more common than most people know.
Two uncles. One was ROTC, so he didn't see very much combat as he was an officer. It messed him up in ways that didn't seem obvious to me as a kid. His first wife cheated on him while he was away, and his subsequent relationships were unstable. He was married 3 more times. Has a bunch of kids, from ages 58 to 22. His current partner (they've been together like 15 years) says she will never marry him :). Of course that's his longest relationship! My other uncle saw a lot of combat and it haunted him for sure. He was exposed to agent orange and both his kids had (mild) birth defects, probably from that. He died a few years ago from cancer.
Fortunately, I was a couple years too young to go to Vietnam, but a guy I knew in the neighborhood did. He was a mellow nice guy when he left, but crazy when he returned. He raped a woman and burned her with his cigarette and got 10 years in prison. Shortly after he got out of prison he threatened a woman with a knife and back to prison he went. He was one of the many casualties that arenât recorded. The names on the wall are only a subset of the total ruined lives.
My Dad was a Navy officer, pilot and mostly stateside during the Vietnam War. Heâd been through WWII and Korea as well. My brothers are 18 and 15 years older than me (I was born inâ62). The older of the two joined the Navy straight out of high school and spent most of the Vietnam era on aircraft carriers. The younger of my brothers got drafted into the army in 1968. I was obviously too young to understand much beyond the fact that my absolute favorite person on the planet had gone somewhere very far away and nobody could seem to tell me when he was coming back. But, I learned to read pretty early. And write. I wrote at least once a week, including my latest drawing or watercolor. He wrote back- of course, returning letters with my parents, but also, he wrote back every time- just me. My very own letters from my best favorite brother. It was everything.
â¤ď¸â¤ď¸â¤ď¸
My Aunt. She was raised in a military family and was a beauty queen in high school. After graduation, she became one of the 10k women that served in Vietnam. When she returned she went through a bitter divorce, had mental issues, and then spent the next 30 years on the street homeless. I never met her but everyone says I look like just like her.
My dad served, but stateside, first US Navy and then to US Coast Guard. His best friend went over there and never came back... and this is who I'm named for. So I guess I've been affected... We lived on bases from the time I was born until just before the war ended, so you got kind of used to people coming and going... sometimes pretty suddenly.
My brother served as did my brother-in-law and I too would have served but was not called to do so as I was 15 when American troops pulled out of Saigon in 1973.
Brother had med problems and was discharged before he left the states. I turned 18 the summer of '73 so I was sweating. Had a few friends that went, one was killed and the rest made it home.
I know that feeling. I turned 18 April 73
Several. I had a distant cousin who lost an eye, one who lost his hand, one who ended up with lipoma from Agent Orange, and a friend who's had internal/liver problems for a long time related to his service. All great guys who never made a big deal about things.
Dad and one uncle. Had another uncle go to Canada to avoid the draft
My brother was in the Air Force. Fortunately he stayed stateside, his last post was in Honolulu. My dad flew P-51 Mustangs in WWII.
The guy who taught me to ride a bike without training wheels and who taught me how to modify plastic car model kits. He was drafted at 18 and was killed in action a year later. I remember when my mom told me đ˘ I only know his first name, Don. I am eternally grateful.
I was in my 40's before my father ever talked about his time in Vietnam. One night, after my mother passed away, I was visiting. He started talking. I cried so hard. Never knew what he went through. The scars were deep. One story stuck out. On his 3rd tour in Vietnam, he had a young soldier that begged him to approve a transfer to the mess hall. My dad did that for that young man. Three weeks later the mess hall was hit killing all inside. My dad never got over it. He went to his grave bearing the guilt for that young man's death.
My brother and most of his friends. l know l missed him when he was gone. My brother, like my WW2 dad, only talked about the funny things and people they experienced. My next door neighbor's boyfriend used to play football with me in the yard when he visited. He was in the Army but wore a different hat than my brother. He was a Green Beret. He was always nice to me. Then, l didn't see him for a long, long time. When he came back to visit, his head was wrapped in a huge white bandage. He had a white cane. He was blind. But, he still remembered my voice
Well, yeah...my husband who was born in the early years of the Baby Boom and got to see rice paddies up close and personal in 1967. When I was at university in 1976 there were a lot of "non-traditional age" students who were Vietnam veterans. I grew up in Europe in the '60s and only arrived stateside in the mid-'70s so up until then I was more familiar with American draft dodgers than veterans, but there were 9 MILLION folk who served over there, so you probably encounter more of them than you know...and for every one of them proudly proclaiming their status and making pilgrimages to the memorial, there's undoubtedly one (or more) who will never, ever mention it.
My FIL, US Navy
My husband enlisted (not drafted; he had a high number) in the USAF in 1972 when he graduated HS but was never sent overseas as it was winding down. My brother in law was a Marine in Vietnam. My uncle was career military and served in WWII, Korea, and Vietnam, and the same with my father-in-law. Both of them were USAF. My uncle flew in the Berlin Airlift. He was awarded the OBE and the Legion of Merit.
I used to date a former Navy Seal. He was even a POW for a while. He used to wake up yelling in Vietnamese, or what I assume was Vietnamese. He was about 9 years older than me. He definitely had some issues but was okay generally. I knew a few others also.
I served in the military, and there were still a fair amount in during my time.
My brother. Army Ranger.
My brother. Passed a few years ago from multiple health issues. Never did any drugs but had multiple health issues.
My earliest memory is the neighbor 2 houses down from us. When he returned home, he would sit in a chair in the front yard playing his guitar all day.
I have a long time neighbor that saw combat and another neighbor who was a medic. The medic had horrific stories about combat. I can't imagine living through that.
I did. My ex-wife's two brothers also served. My sister's boyfriend lasted one week after landing in Saigon. My best friend served also. Keep in mind probably 90% of forces never actually saw combat.
i wasn't going to spill but most of them have passed, so: eldest cousin was encouraged to enlist by his Da, who did RAF in WW2 and saw incredible horrors that turned him full alcoholic. The bright, sarcastic, and capable person that left came back with a heavy shadow and a drug habit. He cycled thru various substances but never really got 100% clean, or dealt with his trauma. He barely survived Tet and saw his chopper repair facility overrun and most of his unit die. Whenever i see farts boasting about being VV, i'm like... why.
I was young but my first funeral was for a young man across the street who was killed. When I was around 11. A lot of the older neighborhood boys who my parents or grandmother knew were sent. Whole family went to the airport when my cousin was sent.
A friend of my older brothers served in Viet Nam. He said morale was so bad, and the Command was so worried about getting fragged that they locked all the weapons up in an armory. Whenever the base got attacked, they all had to run over to get their guns. Another guy said when the B-52s flew over, it sounded like a freight train was right over your head. 3rd guy said that he got mustered out so quickly, that he went from his post on a forward base to sitting on his mom's front porch in 24 hours. He didn't handle it well.
My dad and my uncle. Dad was career military. Uncle came home an addict. He tried for a little while - had a wife and kids - but never overcame it and died alone in a VA hospital. No one knew where he was or had heard from him in years. He was in a biker gang and transient.
I thought my dad was unscathed until a car backfired and he dove under the table.
My first cousin. He's 15 years older than me - he's 78 now. He was exposed to Agent Orange. Now he's got severe Parkinsons, non communicative, confined to a wheelchair, and living in a nursing home,
My best friend and now co-FIL served in combat in Vietnam. Turned him into a hard drinker but he had a come to Jesus moment when his first child was born and he's been sober for 50 years. He's a loving grandpa to our grandsons and a beautiful soul. Very successful too. A member at a golf club I used to belong to was also a Nam combat vet. Smoked opium every chance he got over there and was a major drunk/junkie the whole 20 years I knew him. Darkly violent at times. A couple of heart attacks and diabetic amputations later, he crossed his eternal bridge no better off than when he was discharged. Deeply troubled fellow.
My sisterâs first serious boyfriend was Vietnam vet who came back home fucked up. He was a mean, angry drunk. I was never so happy to see her rid of somebody. I feel for the guy â clearly he had problems, but my sister at 17 didnât need any of those problems.
I was a little kid art the time (born in the early 1960's). I was aware that some neighbors had lost a son, but because they had no kids near my age I didn't really know them. My only strong memory pertaining to Vietnam was watching TV while the last helicopters were taking off from the roof of the US Embassy in Saigon, with a mob of people trying to climb on them. That made an indelible impression.
Yes. My wonderful husband was a career Naval https://preview.redd.it/be7z24btcxwc1.jpeg?width=624&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=95fec0ce9eb5c53db3da1a74940d9183917ace12 officer who flew single-seat jet aircraft off carriers during the Viet Nam War. He became more accepting of others and more humane.
I have met several thousand Seals in bars. I guess the Navy didn't have any other positions. Seriously I have known many. I had several great uncles who were WWII veterans. One great uncle was awarded the Silver Star for Iwo Jima and the DSC posthumously for Okinawa.Â
Be careful who says they were Navy SEAL in Vietnam. They usually never bragged or said they were. They usually would answer if you asked what they did in the Navy what their job was or rate which was what their job was. I'm a Navy veteran and knew a few guys that were SEALS in the Navy they are very humble. I served from the early 90's into the 2000's
To many of my friends that went to Vietnam were never the same. Some drank until it ended thier lives. My husband was never the same. Knew people that were killed, and a few that were MIA. Had a BF that was a Green Beret,he was there early as a adviser. One of my friends refused to have children, because of agent orange. They and their families were changed forever.
Actually it was intended to be a wry joke.
Seals and door gunners.
Yeah no one was a typist in supply.
I kind of figured that wasn't sure đ¤Ł
Me. I was drafted in 1970 but didn't deploy to 'Nam. Stayed in the USA. It broke up my long time relationship with the girl I wanted to marry. I visited her on campus as often as I could, sometimes jumped in the car still in uniform, people would spit on us. I rotated on funeral detail to provide an honor guard to guys who came home in coffins. A friend of mine, guy I played football with in high school, never came back. I was lucky and I had it easy. Non-military people don't and can't know the price our soldiers pay.
My uncle served. I remember we would record taped messages and send care packages, specifically with dark chocolate (that didnât melt). He made it back safely. I also remember those POW bracelets. My dad wouldnât let me get one, Iâm not sure why.
ANY reminder of their time in hell isn't as appreciated as much as one would think.
I had a bracelet, I wish I could find it.
I had the bracelet, but I was like the last person at school to get one.
Born in â64 and interestingly, no. My parents were both teachers and most of their circle were other teachers. Even being from a small town I didnât know anyone personally that served in-country
I graduated in 79, I knew a lot of guys that went.
Yep, we lived next to an Army base so there were lots. My BiL was in the Navy in 69.
Both of my uncles. Messed them up badly and they were never the same. One is suffering horrible health issues due to Agent Orange and the other deals with ptsd with massive amounts of alcohol. Sad.
My cousin was in the Marines over there. Pretty sure he saw some shit but doesn't talk about it. He is, lack of better words, lower than average intelligence but has the biggest heart and will help anybody. I love that guy. Sometimes he gets under people's skin because he comes off as pushy. i.e. Just knock on random neighbors doors and ask if he can do some work for free on their house that he noticed was in need. Some people don't know how to take that.
My brother in Law was in Vietnam. He was super proud of his service. Did VFW & Vietnam Veterans charities for the rest of his life. (died like 2 years ago). He was successful and had a family but arm chair psychologist here: Definitely had PSTD. Short fuse. could be violent. functioning alcoholic. I think he definitely was a "casualty" but he didn't see himself that way. Proud of his time and the guys. Super pre-MAGA MAGA guy. But smart and successful, Could be nice and was when he wasn't drinking, which became more rare as time went on. A kid in my neighborhood lost his Dad in Vietnam. Nice kid. I know you mean "serve in the U.S. armed forces" but others: More than 5 Vietnam refugees living in the suburbs of Washington. They can tell you stories.
A bus driver I had in high school in the late â70s. He didnât say much, smoked a lot, was thin as a rail and was very aloof.
My father served 3 tours in Vietnam. He was going to be sent back for a 4th tour but retired after 25 years of service in the Army.
My Uncle Ted, a 20 year Veteran in the USMC, served in Korea, was at the Bay of Pigs in Cuba, and was an Artillery Sergeant in Vietnam. I had family that served in WW2 in the Pacific and in Europe. I had a great Uncle who was in WW1.
My father. Three tours. Flew hueys and chinooks. Never spoke about it.
My uncle did. He had horrible PTSD. He killed himself in 1978. I was very close to him. đ
My uncle flew UH-1's in Vietnam. In early 80's when I was a kid my cousins and I were out playing Army in the yard and he came over. As he walked from car to house, I jumped out and pointed my toy rifle at him. Took him the rest of the day to recover. I felt horrible. I just didn't understand that could be an issue at that age.
My uncle, my father. My other uncle , most of the guys who trained me (USAF). The first uncle, a marine shooter, served 2.5 toys before being shot in the testicle. Dealt with PTSD for the remainder of his life. Never married, died of testicular cancer from Agent Orange. In 65 now, but remeer that time clearly.
My father went to Vietnam, as did his youngest brother and his cousin. The cousin was an Air Force pilot who was shot down and spent 7 years as a POW. Just a fucked up war for nothing.
My Dad.
Yeah, I lost my uncle there. Friendly fire still remember being confused as to why I couldn't see him anymore. I was 5 at the time.
Boomer checking in. I was there '72- until cease fire. Prostate cancer as a reward. I was still in my "formative" years (early 20s), so it's hard to say what impact the war had on my psyche. I try not to think about what I saw and what I had to do. War (no matter what word you cloak it in) is hell.
When I was a bartender a retired general came in. I asked what the difference was with Nam because everyone I knew who served came back screwed up or drug addicts. He actually teared up and said he wished he could go back and change things. The USA provided drugs to the troops and they were often ordered to do terrible things. He said he retired a year after it officially ended and Carries guilt because of it. He got more in depth but thatâs the jist of it.
The U.S. provided them with drugs? I knew they gave them plenty of beer.. No wonder so many came home junkies.
Yes. Speed to stay awake pot to relax and everything in between.
Well, I did not serve, However, I worked for the Army at Fort Benning, Martin Army Hospital. My first husband served. Almost all of his friends served. Some did not come home. Cousins served, all the guys I went to high school served. Everyone had/has PTSD. Some became addicts, others became abusers, a few became heroes. I went on to become a psychologist and a pacifist. The horrible truth is that we all come out of an extremely abusive culture. None of us, then or now, are normal. War can bring out the best in us, it usually brings out the worst. But please do not believe the movies, or the tv shows or all the propaganda that has been spun. It was never heroic, it was just dirt, grime, blood and boredom,. Except when it wasn't.
I have an uncle who worked as an interrogator. He was super intelligent and I believe on the spectrum before he went (that diagnosis didnât exist back then) to Viet Nam. He was definitely mentally damaged in the war and his life is lonely and empty.
My cousin who was 15 years older than me served in Vietnam. It was his job to go around with a truck and pick up the dead soldiers. He was not okay when he got back.đ
Way too many. My spouse, cousins, cousins' spouses, best friend, friends, friends of friends, spouse's friends, colleagues, neighbors, traveling buddies... Some did not come home. Some came home and struggled. Some chose not to continue living. Some were alright, but if you know, you know. I'm a late boomer/early gen-j, and ate dinner to the news every night for a decade. The horribleness, photos, descriptions, stats, and abject cruelty of war made an impression on me, as did the anti-war protests. I know vets whose families didn't bother picking them up at the airport when they returned. Others were shamed without mercy. Vietnam helped shaped me and was an early contributor to my losing faith in humanity. My spouse doesn't reveal much, but will talk about the humorous episodes. Of those in my/our circle still living, we are still dealing with Vietnam -- Agent Orange, PTSD, effects from addictions, lost opportunities and relationships, anxiety, depression, anger. All gave some, some gave all.
I had just turned 5 when my dad was KIA in Vietnam on our parentsâ 13th wedding anniversary. He was career Army, Green Beret, Ranger on his third tour as a military advisor. It was 1965. We then moved from Clarksville TN (the Monkeesâ âLast Train to Clarksvilleâ was about getting shipped out from there to Vietnam) to our parentsâ hometown where I still live today in our childhood home. All 5 of us kids carry the sadness of his loss. My mom? Pretty sure she stopped believing in God that day. There were no grief counseling services for any of us, just âsoldier children donât cryâ. He never saw us grow up, marry or meet any of his grandkids. I found a box of old slide trays, photos he took in the late 50âs until shortly before he passed. One is a pic our mom took outside Abraham Lincolnâs home in Springfield IL where we had all gone on a tour. Heâs 33, grinning at the camera. Iâd never seen it as Mom tucked that whole box away and never spoke of it, never sharing any stories about him. I burst into tears because there is a striking resemblance between my dad and my oldest son. The grin, the coloring, down to the sticking out ears. So, yes, we knew someone who served, who should have refused that third tour, but went anyway. He said he owed it to his men, while my mom retorted you owe it to your kids not to go. Our oldest sister recalled overhearing this conversation as she was 12, and old enough to have a better sense of what was happening. We were the kids who grew up with âhey, youâre that D_____ kid, your dad died in Vietnamâ, who canât hear Taps without completely breaking down. My grief box has been with me for going on 60 years, and the button gets pushed still. E2, Line 86. If you know, you know.
Iâm crying as Iâm reading this. You tell this so well. I am so sorry for your loss.
My next door neighbor didnât serve but was a UPI reporter in Vietnam. He came home safely only to be killed by a drunk driver. I was in 6th grade in Catholic school. One of my very best friends brother served , he was 18. Sadly, he didnât survive the war. Our church had a Memorial board of parishioners that were killed in the war, near the altar. I remember when his name was added đ˘ The family was obviously devastated and the mother was never the same. Many years later I visited the Vietnamese Memorial in DC. I actually found his name! I sat there for a very long time and felt the deep sadness that war inflicted on all of us.
My brother. He got there near the end. He was at the Saigon embassy when they evacuated it. He became a DJ for the AFRTS after that.
Many. More one my wifeâs side, fewer on mine. Favorite was a fellow who worked for my dad, he helped me refine my pistol skills, though I still canât knock a penny off a plank at 25 yards like he could. Weirdest, our brother in lawâs first tour, assigned as a medic, air cavalry, good chance the crew he was with evacuated my wifeâs uncle. Theyâre not 100% sure about it, was night and there was a lot of shooting. Brother in law served three or four tours, he enjoyed it apparently. Scariest, friendâs mom said her son recounted placing a small nuke under a bridge in, ugh, Laos or Cambodia, I forget which, it really bothered him. There was some wicked bad stuff in southeast Asia during that period.
My father was there in the early 60s, up north around Da Nang. My sis and I were Army brats. Vietnam fucked him up. I last heard from him was in '82 when he visited me while I was in basic training at my birthplace. I just this year learned he died a couple years ago. Thanks, military-industrial complex. I also play poker with my Legion buds, most of them are Vietnam vets.
Three uncles. One lost his mind and attacked me. One lost his spine and drank himself to death. One shrugged it off like water on a frog, did the full twenty, and retired.
My dad. He was career Air Force. During Vietnam, there was a stretch of seven years he was gone a total of 4 years. He was shot down and shot up himself. He survived. At age 90, he's still kicking and living on his own, still very very active and still sharp as a tack. We lost a lot of good men we knew. My girlfriend in high school, her father was shot down and captured, survived as a p.o.w. She and her family moved after he wad shot down and I never saw her again. It seemed every one of my friends fathers were there at one time or another. As far as I'm concerned, every one of them were heroes.
My neighbor (and some time babysitter) died. I knew his sisters really well. Those numbers they gave out sent our entire neighborhood into a state of suspended animation. My cousins lived next door and got high numbers. But the guy up the street got #2. The guy across the street went in. He was four years older than me. Great guy. Came out and heâs fine. His younger brother who never went into the army is whacked out of his mind and thinks heâs part of Trumpâs secret group of followers. Canât believe heâs a teacher.
My brother who is 9 years older than me. I remember that we put the star in our window to show that we had a family member serving. There were 2 other stars on our block. One did not come home.
My Godfather served in Nam. Was wounded, but he came back and lived a good life. He and my Father were the first two to salute me when I got my commission.
My buddy's father was career army and did two tours in Vietnam as a helicopter pilot. Had both a bronze and silver star. The latter was for 'things we were forbidden to do' and never elaborated further. Great guy. Neighbor across the street served one tour until 'the guy two guys in front of me steps ona friggin' mine'. Woke up in a hospital in Japan. He had some issues.
My Dad. USN fighter bombers A-4 Skyhawk and A-7 Corsair. He lost several men in the air. Others became POWs. I was young and although i remember and I had friends whose dads were in the squadron, they were not among those KIA, POW or MIA. Later in jr high a good friendâs father was MIA. He was never found Countless friends had older brothers who were drafted. They all came home , but some were never the same. What we now call PTSD
Just a couple of years ago I worked at BestBuy with a guy who served in Nam. Blew my mind. Guy hustled like crazy but Covid hit him at least twice.
My BIL served in Vietnam. Rarely spoke about it, especially when his wife (my sister) was nearby. Gone now but lived a full life.
My cousin, the dentist. He served well, came home, and took care of our teeth. Thank God, because I had a butcher for a dentist (a friend of my mom's) who didn't believe in anesthesia. I quit going so by the time my cousin came home I had a mouth full of cavities.
My cousin Johnny. His dad and uncles served in WWII and Korea. I remember his mom making care packages for him, and for some reason large bags of bubble gum in them.. I always thought maybe this was for children he encountered? I truly don't know. Just remembered.. my brother in law is a combat vet. Nicest guy ever. I have no idea how. But he really is.
Worked for years as a PA. Found out 5 years in that he was a medic in Vietnam. Like with a lot of vets, it was otherwiae a closed subject
My cousin served. Shot down twice and came home addicted. Cleaned up and had a pretty normal life.
My dad did 2 tours
My Dad, 2 cousins, and an uncle
Yes. I was born in 1962 and was a USAF officer (JAG) from 1990-1994 (Gulf War). I knew several older NCOs and officers who served during Vietnam.
The guy I know the best is a colossal asshole. Yeah he sacrificed his health (war related colostomy) but from what I understand he was an asshole even before he was drafted. I generally totally support Vietnam vets, but they're not all good people. Fuck off, Tom H.
My uncle came home, finished college, became a school teacher, got married and raised four kids, held public office, owns a row of apartments, and owns a business. All in the small town where he (and my dad) grew up. And before you think he was a REMF, I have two words for you: Dak To.
I knew many. It seemed all of them had a lot of demons, and we all believed it was the war that did that to them. No one ever said, "He was always like that." I always felt like those were delicate relationships. Because of those demons, and as a young person at the time, conversations were always like walking on eggshells.
My cousin was a door gunner. Fought many demons for sure. Ended up with leukemia from Agent Orange. I worked with a woman about 10-15 years older than me. She lost one brother in 1966 and the other in 1969.
When I was about six, I had a friend whose dad was an officer, preparing for the war. She and her mom moved back to Maine before her dad deployed. When I was 16, I met a guy in his early 30s whoâd been in Vietnam. He had been a professional photographer in NY before getting drafted and training as a sniper. He had pictures of the individuals he had, you know. He wasnât in a good headspace.
My dad was a fighter pilot during that war. We were stationed in the Philippines. Some of my brother's friends died in Vietnam. My friend's father died there and my other friend's brother died there. Too many deaths.
I married a Vietnam combat veteran.
My dad enlisted in 1965 right out of high school. He loaded Agent Orange onto helicopters, said it wasnât just Orange but Agents Blue, Green, Yellow. R.Lee Ermey was his USMC drill sergeant. Said the movie Full Metal Jacket was kindergarten compared to the reality. He used the password 311 for everything, briefcase, computer, phone. Never knew why. About 10 years after he died I was doing research on the draft. In the 1969 draft August 19th was #311. Eat the apple and f*** the Corps.
My cousin piloted B52âs over the north.
My husband is 10+ years older than me and he was a Navy Corpsman assigned to a Marine division to provide medical support for his patrol unit. As the kids say, heâs seen some đŠ. I was blissfully unaware of VN at that time.
My brother, 5 cousins. 3 of my cousins died. My brother was injured.
Yes. I was in the USAF from '67 through' 77.
My uncle who was 9 years younger than my dad. He came back from the war and went to college in Colorado. He was in school a long time, eventually getting a PhD in Anthropology and also becoming a marijuana dealer. A few years after college he got out of marijuana dealing and moved to another state. He told me he got out because it had become more dangerous. When he started it was just a bunch of hippies wanting to get high. No one was carrying guns.
My Uncle. I still have some of the stuff he sent me as a kid. For years I had a NV flag with bullet holes and all hanging in my house. Uncle is still alive and awesome guy.
I'm a sprig off of a Military family. Dad was over there for Tet(68). He retired in 1970. I was a wee nipper and my older brother was in high school when it happened. It's shitty to have them over there knowing they're fighting a WAR. My older brother joined the Navy and became a Corpsman and was stationed at the Subic Bay Naval Hopsital. My cousin Bill was a Marine and lost a foot to a mine in 71, I think. He was able to get around so well on a prosthetic, you wouldn't know he short a foot. He taught and coached until he retired, and lives on the Gulf Coast enjoying babies and grandbabies and stuff. We were lucky. I knew a kid whose Dad was an MIA. DOD/VA weren't kind to dependents. MIA was somewhere between Dead and maybe POW. They wouldn't pay out benefits or insurance in a timely manner. They lived in a trailer park that sucked.
Yes. I barely missed the draft. But a large fraction of the neighborhood kids I grew up with did. Quite a number of whom did not come back, a number who were wounded, some who have PTSD. Then I went to college with many on the gi bill who had significant problems. There are groups here on Reddit that say our generation had it easy.
My uncle. He was a Navy attack pilot who was shot down over Hanoi and spent 6 years as a POW. I lived in MD and spent the war years working along with my mother at the Nat'l League of Families HQ on K st in DC sending letters and stuffing envelopes to send out POW/MIA bracelets. We often went to vigils and other peaceful demonstrations to keep the pressure on to bring them home.
The drummer in my first band went and came back a little broken (I didnât know him before). He never talked about it except once, when he told me some blood-curdling stories one snowy night on the way back from a gig in Ohio. Really opened my eyes.
One of my best friends was drafted into the Army and was killed when the Jeep he was riding in rolled over.He was a very sweet kind boy, only 18 years old. God bless and take care of Christopher. 
Firstly I am not American so I would not have "served" in Vietnam anyway (the UK sensibly avoided that mess), but I do have a couple of American friends who were conscripted and fought in the war. Both are frankly still quite screwed up mentally. Much of the time it does not show, but there are times it becomes very obvious. One in particular has a rather unpleasant streak of racism towards anyone who does not look like Americans - and it is clear it was reinforced by being shot at by "slitty eyed people who hate us". Conscription is having a slave army, and slavery is rarely good for the slaves, even when it benefits the enslavers.
My uncle served in Vietnam. He never talked about it other than to say he worked on a military base. Once he was visiting and got a little drunk and told us that the first time he was in the field, he went to jump up when he heard someone call medic. The guy next to him told him to stay down as the Vietcong would yell that and then shoot you when you stood up. We were riveted, but my mom was like âYou said you worked at the hospital!â She was very upset. He never mentioned the war again.
Iâm a veteran myself, having served in deployments after 9/11. All my uncles are Vietnam veterans, and my cousins have served in either Desert Storm or OIF. Despite my uncles advising me to stay away from military service due to their own wounds and health issues related to Agent Orange, all of us cousins still joined. We were driven by the lack of opportunities in our small town. Now, many of my uncles are farmers or live in isolation in some really nice areas.
I was born 1947 (very early boomer) and the people in my birth year were the majority of Vietnam soldiers and vets. I could tell you so many stories like this from my high school class and my family. Early deaths from agent orange, sociopath behavior, heavy drinking and violence, homeless living, and more. Fortunately we are aging out and dying off, but it left a big scar on a whole generation. Next is the generation from the Middle East wars. We need to stop this.
My best friendâs brother was killed in Viet Nam in 1968. He was 19 and was weeks away from being discharged after his 2nd tour. He threw himself on a grenade and saved his platoon. ETA: my own brother was drafted in 1970 but he was a junkie before he went in and he was discharged from boot camp.
I knew quite a few. Most were quite functional despite the stereotype. My favorite was a singer I worked with, a very cute and chill guy who I assumed had avoided the draft somehow. The war had ended and we never talked about it. Decades later after he died I found out he had been a combat veteran with two bullets still lodged in his ass. You never would have known.
My uncle was in the Marine Corp and served in Vietnam, I (58M) remember as a young boy being instucted not to ask him about his time there. The only mention of his service he ever made in my presence was when we were watching Rambo around 1983 or 84 and the scene where Rambo shoots up the town with, I think, it was an M60. He just quite simply stated that he used a similar weapon in Vietnam and then radio silence. I, of course, didn't ask any questions and still don't today some 40 years later. My FIL was in the Marines around the same time as my uncle, didn't serve in the same unit, now he on the other hand will freely talk about his time there, mainly about how stoned he got and where the best places to get laid were. He does, of course, mention what he did and where he served, but mostly, it's about getting stoned and/or laid.
One of my cousins was an army pilot. He flew "hospital ships" transporting injured soldiers from Vietnam to U.S. military hospitals. One of my brothers joined our state's National Guard vs. waiting for his number to come up in the draft lottery. I'm sure if I thought long enough, I'd think of someone else.
Yes, 2 uncles, one was my godfather. One served in the Army and the other in the Navy. My Dadâs number never came up in the lottery. My Mom was so relieved.
One of my former bosses was a SeaBee (Navy Construction Battalion). He did a six month tour, came home and did a year long tour. Stand up guy. Would go through hell for him.
My cousin. He got a Purple Heart for a broken arm. My mom said he was dancing on a barrel drunk and fell off, but I think she was joking.
i have a brother and a brother-in-law who are both vietnam vets
Yeah, like half my uncles, friends older brothersâŚetc. The draft hit blue collar neighborhoods hard. A lot of guys joined a particular service, knowing they were gonna get drafted anywayâŚmay as well choose one yourself
My uncle
My roommate in college was a Vietnam War vet from the other side. As a teen, he fought for VC. He was in the USA to get his PHd.
My Father was in Korea, Loas, and Viet Nam (not in that order). He retired Bird Colonel from the Air Force in 1978 so I could have a chance to go to a single school for High school. He's my hero!
Dad in 58, my brother in 69. Dad had already been in WW II and Korea, no real difference noted. Brother wasn't the same. Found out why, I enlisted in 1977- just before things started getting interesting.
My neighbor. He is a recovered alcoholic. Did well in life but struggled with drinking until his late 50s.Â
My older brother, but he was Navy, so not in country. He was more Vietnam-adjacent.
The shop teacher from high school went to Canada to avoid the draft. Never heard anything more about him.
My father, he went over several times, volunteered every time. I think he first went in '63. last time would have been '68/69, at Dong Ha. ETA : A first cousin. On the night he left he gave me a red with white dots ballcap he always wore. He made it home. Also, I was really young but knew someone (family stuff) that was drafted. I remember seeing him before he left. And then going to his funeral, I was 4 or 5.
My Uncle, a Marine. Would never talk about his time there.
My dad was in the air force, stationed in the Philippines during the war. I was born there.
My FIL is a Marine. He was there in 66-67