Volume 1, Number 2 5 December 1987 +---------------------------------------------------------------+ | | | | | | | - Nam Vet - We still don't have a | | logo! | | International It doesn't have to be | | Vietnam Veterans this small. Send us | | Newsletter your ideas?? | | | | | | | +---------------------------------------------------------------+ Editor in Chief: Todd Looney Assistant Editor: G. Joseph Peck Nam Vet is a special newsletter dedicated to Vietnam Veterans around the world, and provided electronically as a service to participants in the International Vietnam Veterans' Echo Conference (IVVEC) available on many FidoNet (tm) bulletin boards in the U.S., Europe, and Canada. Not all of the articles appearing in NAM VET are written by participants in the IVVEC, but the NAM VET is very much an electronic newsletter by, of, and for Vietnam veterans, their friends, wives and lovers. Articles from veterans or anyone else wishing to express themselves about Viet Nam or related experiences are invited to submit their writings for publication to the Vietnam Veterans Valhalla (143/27), the VETlink #1 (321/203), or to any node carrying the IVVEC whose sysop can forward your work from there. NAM VET is published monthly by the Vietnam Veterans Valhalla. The views expressed are not necessarily those of the NAM VET, it's staff or volunteers. The newsletter is made up of articles and other newsletters as well as other sources. We are not responsible for the content of this information nor are any of the above mentioned parties. Duplication and/or distribution is permitted for noncommercial purposes only. For use in other circumstances, please contact Todd Looney at (408) 947-7668. SEASON'S GREETINGS! Table of Contents 1. EDITORIAL ................................................ 1 Editorial ................................................ 1 Editorial from Pittsfield, MA ............................ 2 2. SERVICES ................................................. 4 Amerasian Registry ....................................... 9 3. MEMORY ................................................... 11 All You Ever Wanted To Know About Ham & Limas (and more) .. 11 In Memory of the Young Bleeder, the Children, The World .. 13 Memoirs of a Boonie Rat .................................. 16 And more! NamNews 1-02 Page 1 5 Dec 1987 ================================================================= EDITORIAL ================================================================= Breath in Slowly...Fire....and Aim! Well, that pretty well sums up the way Joe Peck and I felt trying to get the first issue of the NAM VET put together and distributed in time for the Veterans' Day deadline. Most of the time we had no idea what we were aiming at but we knew that if we put it on "rock n' roll" and did a "mad minute" we'd hit something. And hit something we did! The very next day Joe was being called by two east coast newspapers and since then I have talked with one on the west coast. We received calls from across the country congratulating us on our efforts and for once again doing something no one has ever accomplished - publishing the worlds first electronically distributed newsletter dedicated to Vietnam veterans. Press releases have been sent to each of the major television networks, a dozen or so syndicated newspapers, and nearly every government leader and veteran organization across the country. As Joe so amply put it, "SCORE ONE for Vietnam veterans who care!" Let me be the first to thank all of YOU for helping to make this possible. Without your encouragement as Joe and I tried - so blindly at times - to create something that would make a mark in this world, we might never have done it. Thanks to all of you who so unselfishly shared your lives with our readers in the articles and poetry submitted. Thanks to all the International Vietnam Veterans' EchoConference sysops who spent THEIR money spreading the word and helping to make the premier issue available to their own BBS subscribers. I have no idea what the total number of issues distributed were. I know that there were over 270 file requests from the Valhalla BBS within the first week and another 312 since then. Sorry to all of you who tried to call in and download the newsletter directly only to find a busy signal. There were only 116 people able to get through to this board to download it first hand. Had the electronic mail requests not been so heavy there would have been more. Joe had his share of downloads and file requests (and had he not mispelled the name in his IVVEC announcement he would have had more of them successful...grin). I've only received messages from 32 of the 67 (known) IVVEC sysops to date reporting their statistics which totalled over 1100! Some sysops report no downloads at all while others as many as 50 a day! There were even kids downloading the file to give to their dads. Overall I am pleased to announce that the premier issue of the NAM VET Newsletter was a raving success! Well, the Christmas issue of the NAM VET is just as fine. You will find that several series of articles have been started and we intend to continue them. MEMORIES is probably the most popular section, and I must admit that I choked up at some of the entries you will find in this month's newsletter. The WOMEN IN NamNews 1-02 Page 2 5 Dec 1987 VIETNAM section has been graced with an article by a very famous author, Linda M. Van Devanter. "In Memory of the Young Bleeder, the Children, the World ..." is worth it's weight in tears. Joe's premier article in his "Spirit of the Vietnam Veteran" series really put me in my place. The CHRISTMAS MEMORIES are a sight to behold ... and I could go on and on but I'll let you read on and discover the intensity ... the sensitivity ... and the sharing contained in this issue for yourself. Enjoy! My wife, Nacy, children, Jeremy and Teri, five cats and I wish you a very Merry Holiday Season! Take care of yourselves! ----------------------------------------------------------------- G. Joseph Peck VETLink #1 Pittsfield, MA Node 321/203 Greetings of this holiday season to you and yours Well, it seems like only YESTERDAY Todd and I were busily putting the finishing touches on your premier edition of NAM VET before it was released to each of you in the computing community. Now its time to do it again. For many of us, it seems like only YESTERDAY when the golden sun dipped below the western horizon, hills and valleys were bathed in colours of grey and soft heavenly blue... and shots rang from a nearby rice paddy. Red mud and mosquito's caught in a spider's web still remind us of when we flung ourselves headlong into the nearest crater to shield ourselves from incoming. For many others of us, there is a different kind of incoming that this holiday time of the year brings. The nights seem extra-long and for those of us who let it happen, the quiet silence is broken periodically by a falling tear for our lost friends, family members or other loved ones, and we do all we can to hold back the sobs. Unfortunately, there isn't any shield against this kind of incoming. I know. I know, too, about many of our nation's homeless veterans. Some sleep in alley ways. Others, more fortunate (?), have pitched a tent on some remote island and come into town once a month for supplies. I wonder if they'd accept you or I as one of their friends. I wonder if they'd trust us enough to accept an invitation to Christmas or Hanukkah dinner, family celebrations. I wonder if they'd trust themselves enough to begin another human relationship - this time WITHOUT the fear that the stupid f**ker would get himself or you killed. I wonder... And I know, too, about many of our nation's incarcerated Vietnam veterans. Darkness descends early on them. No place to hide from incoming there. Not many people to talk to who try to understand. I can't forget our under- and unemployed veterans or their NamNews 1-02 Page 3 5 Dec 1987 families, either. After proud and distinctive service to this great nation of ours, how they must feel when THEIR incoming reveals that the tree will be bare again this year and loved ones will think they don't care. How they must feel! And as naked trees stand silent, vigilant guard over the northeast part of America, I'm reminded of the widow and her children who watched as Agent Orange sucked out the life of their Vietnam veteran. Neither the Veterans Administration, with its refusal to provide help while he was dying, or the chemical companies, who continue to deny responsibility, offer any help raising the now-orphaned children. Incoming... And Gold Star mothers and fathers and sweaters in the attic that somehow get hugged every holiday season... Incoming... Outbound from Firebase Valhalla will be NAM VET and the loving, caring, sharing spirit that brings it to each of you. According to very reliable sources, NAM VET has already found its way into a few veterans' hospitals and homes. Children have downloaded it as a gift for their fathers. Wives have downloaded it so they can share some of the things their husband won't tell them. Women veterans, especially of the Vietnam war, have downloaded it 'cause its part of them. YOU have downloaded it 'cause it's part of you - a fragment of YOUR place in America's history. NAM VET will continue to grow as long as YOU help it replace the memories of "SEARCH AND DESTROY" with, instead, "FOUND AND ENJOY" - FOUND those who served, those who share, ENJOY their company. My wife, Georgia, and I; my children: Michael, David, Kymberli, George, Rosa and their dog, three cats, turtle and a rabbit extend our sincerest wishes that all the blessings, happiness and peace of this holiday season will be yours. 'Til next month... show a brother/sister veteran that YOU care... G. Joseph Peck Sysop VETLink #1 321/203 ----------------------------------------------------------------- NamNews 1-02 Page 4 5 Dec 1987 ================================================================= SERVICES ================================================================= According to the film: AGENT ORANGE & THE VIETNAM VETERAN produced by Green Mountain Post Films, Turners Falls, MA, the Federal Court is still accepting applications for inclusion in the Agent Orange Class Action lawsuit. Reprinted below is the original Agent Orange Claim form. If you want to be included in the lawsuit, complete and mail as soon as possible. G. Joseph Peck Sysop VETLink #1 ------------------------------------------------------------------ AGENT ORANGE CLAIM FORM IMPORTANT: IF YOU BELIEVE YOU CURRENTLY HAVE ADVERSE HEALTH EFFECTS RELATED TO AGENT ORANGE EXPOSURE, RETURN THIS FORM NO LATER THAN OCTOBER 26, 1984. FAILURE TO RETURN THE FORM BY THAT DATE WILL PREVENT YOU FROM GETTING MONEY FROM THE SETTLEMENT FUND. (Please type or print all answers. Additional pages may be attached for extended answers.) (To Be Filled Out By All Claimants) Information about Claimant Claimant's Name (Last, First, Middle):____________________________ Social Security Number: ___ - ___ - _____ (Or Identification Number for New Zealand and Australian Claimants) Current Address (Street):_________________________________________ (City, State): ___________________________________(Zip):_______ Home Telephone Number (Area Code, Number): (____)_________________ Work Telephone Number (Area Code, Number): (____)_________________ Sex (Circle One): (M)ale (F)emale Date of Birth: _______ - _____ - ______ MONTH DAY YEAR If you have an attorney, please give his or her name, address, and telephone number: Attorney Name:_________________________________________________ Firm Name:_________________________________________________ Address (Street):_________________________________________________ (City, State):____________________________________(Zip):_______ Attorney Telephone Number (Area Code, Number): (____)_____________ Information about Veteran Veteran's Name (Last, First, Middle):_____________________________ Social Security Number: ___ - ___ - _____ Current Address (Street):_________________________________________ (City, State):____________________________(Zip):_______ NamNews 1-02 Page 5 5 Dec 1987 Sex (Circle One): (M)ale (F)emale Date of Birth: _____ - ___ - ____ Date of Death:_____ - ___ - ____ Month Day YEAR (if deceased) Month Day Year When did Veteran serve in the Armed Services? FROM:_____ - ___ - ____ TO:_____ - ___ - ____ Month Day Year Month Day Year In what branch of service did Veteran serve?______________________ Did Veteran serve in or near Vietnam? (Y)es (N)o If yes, when? FROM:_____ - ___ - ____ TO:_____ - ___ - ____ Month Day Year Month Day Year What were Veteran's primary duties (e.g., Primary MOS)?___________ __________________________________________________________________ __________________________________________________________________ Where was Veteran located in or near Vietnam?_____________________ To the best of your knowledge, was Veteran sprayed with Agent Orange? (Y)es (N)o Did Veteran see spraying of Agent Orange? (Y)es (N)o Was Veteran in areas that had been previously sprayed with Agent Orange? (Y)es (N)o How often was Veteran in areas sprayed with Agent Orange? (Circle One) (C)onstantly (F)requently (S)eldom (N)ever What is the reason you answered YES to any of the above questions? __________________________________________________________________ __________________________________________________________________ __________________________________________________________________ PART II (To Be Filled Out If Claim Is Based On Adverse Health Effects ON VETERAN Alleged To Be Related To Agent Orange Exposure) Please describe any medical problems of Veteran that any doctor has advised, or you believe, are related to Agent Orange: __________________________________________________________________ __________________________________________________________________ __________________________________________________________________ __________________________________________________________________ If you have listed any problems above, please list here what effect, if any, such medical problems have had in Veteran's work, NamNews 1-02 Page 6 5 Dec 1987 daily activities, etc: __________________________________________________________________ __________________________________________________________________ __________________________________________________________________ __________________________________________________________________ PART III (To Be Filled Out If Claim Is Based On Adverse Health Effects ON CHILDREN Alleged To Be Related To Agent Orange Exposure) Please list here any birth defects of children which you believe are related to Agent Orange Exposure: NATURE OF NAME OF CHILD BIRTH DATE MOTHER'S NAME BIRTH DEFECT 1.______________ __________ _______________ _______________ 2.______________ __________ _______________ _______________ 3.______________ __________ _______________ _______________ If any child is deceased, state name and date of death: __________________________________________________________________ Name and address of parent or guardian of each child if different from claimant: __________________________________________________________________ __________________________________________________________________ PART IV (To Be Filled Out If Claim Is Based On MISCARRIAGES Alleged To Be Related To Agent Orange Exposure) Please list here any pregnancies that did not result in a live birth which you believe are related to Agent Orange exposure: Name and address of woman: _______________________________________ __________________________________________________________________ Relationship to Veteran:__________________________________________ Date(s) of Miscarriage(s):________________________________________ Has the woman received any professional counseling or advice on the possible effect of Agent Orange on her unborn children? NamNews 1-02 Page 7 5 Dec 1987 (Y)es (N)o Describe nature of such counseling or advice:_____________________ __________________________________________________________________ __________________________________________________________________ __________________________________________________________________ NOTE: IF YOU LATER LEARN OF ADVERSE HEALTH EFFECTS ALLEGEDLY RELATED TO AGENT ORANGE EXPOSURE THAT ARE NOT KNOWN TO YOU YOU MUST RETURN THIS FORM WITHIN 120 DAYS THEREAFTER. _______________________________________ SIGNATURE OF CLAIMANT ALL CLAIMS FOR PRESENT ADVERSE HEALTH AFFECTS THAT YOU BELIEVE ARE RELATED TO AGENT ORANGE EXPOSURE MUST BE SUBMITTED BY MAILING THIS FORM TO THE FOLLOWING ADDRESS ON OR BEFORE OCTOBER 26, 1984: AGENT ORANGE COMPUTER CENTER P.O. BOX 905 SMITHTOWN, NEW YORK 11787 ****************************************************************** YANNACONE & YANNACONE Professional Corporation --------------------------------Attorneys and Counselors at Law--- Victor J. Yannacone (deceased) Victor John Yannacone, jr. W. Keith Kavenagh, Ph.D. Michael T. Sullivan Area Code 516 Workers Compensation Division: 475-0231 (nights also) Retirement & Social Security Division: 654-0231 Medical Legal & Litigation Division: 654-2299 General Practice Division: 654-2222 Environmental, Consumer & Public Interest Law Division: 654-2662 NOTICE OF INTENTION TO JOIN A CLASS I believe that I have been injured and suffered damages as a result of the toxic effects of phenoxy herbicides such as 2,4,5- trichlorophenoxy aliphatics manufactured, formulated, advertised, marketed, promoted, and sold by the corporate defendants in this NamNews 1-02 Page 8 5 Dec 1987 action and wish to be added as a plaintiff to the class action and join in demanding the relief sought in the action now pending Dow Chemical Company, Monsanto Company, Hercules, Inc., T.H. Agriculture & Nutrition Co., Inc., Uniroyal, Inc., Riverdale Chemical Co., Diamond Shamrock Corp., and Wm.T. Thompson Co., Thompson Chemical Div., in the United States District Court, Eastern District of New York, Uniondale, New York, under docket number MDL 381. DATED: _______________________ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . SIGNATURE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . PRINT NAME . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . PRINT ADDRESS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Post Office Drawer 109 Patchogue, New York 11772 ----------------------------------------------------------------- NamNews 1-02 Page 9 5 Dec 1987 Barry Huntoon, a former Army medic in Vietnam, picked up a copy of LIFE magazine in the summer of 1985 because of an article on "Amerasian" children - the offspring of U.S. soldiers and Vietnamese women. Inside he found the photograph of the daughter he never met, whom he thought had died years earlier. "There was a picture of a little girl selling peanuts on a beach in Vietnam," said Huntoon, 35, a carpenter in Saratoga, a suburb of San Jose, California. "Just from looking at her I knew she was my daughter. Then I looked at the name and the location (of the girl) and I saw I was correct." Starting with only that photo, Huntoon used contacts in a Vietnamese refugee camp in the Philippines to locate the 14-year old last year. Her mother had died when she was an infant and she had lived the life of an orphan, practically a begger, Huntoon said. He wrote to her and received several letters and a photograph in return. "She was overjoyed that someone would care enough to look for her and want her," Huntoon said. With his wife of three years, Huntoon has readied a room in his home for the girl, and is impatiently awaiting the Vietnamese government's permission for her to emmigrate. "I automatically thought, 'I have a home where she belongs,'" Huntoon said. "We have a lot of time to make up, a lot of love she's been missing." That magazine photograph triggered more than Huntoon's far-flung search. In November of 1986, inspired partly by their efforts in assisting Huntoon, two San Jose Veterans formed the Amerasian Registry - a new non-profit organization aimed at reuniting American fathers and their half-Vietnamese children. "Veterans are getting better in terms of their emotional healing and are taking stock and responsibility for what happened when they were in the service," said Jim Barker, a counselor in a local veterans program and a founder of the registry. "We feel we are an important part of that national healing process." The Amerasian Registry, the first organization in the country to focus exclusively on reuniting these children and their fathers, is an unusual joint effort between veterans and local Vietnamese immigrants. The group hopes eventually to develop a computerized database with names and addresses of Amerasians in the United States and fathers seeking children, Barker said. There are also plans to provide advice to fathers trying to find children still in Vietnam. But for now, with no paid staff or budget, efforts have focused on a few cases such as Barry Huntoon's, and on just keeping in touch with the several dozen other fathers and children who have contacted them. The process is slow, often painful, and NamNews 1-02 Page 10 5 Dec 1987 frustrating - there has been only one full reunion arranged by the organization - but Barker and co-founder Bruce Burns persist. Veterans seeking Vietnamese offspring remain a very small group. Estimates of the total number of Amerasian children born during the Vietnam War range from 8,000 to 18,000 - but only 75 veterans have contacted the registry for help in finding their long-lost son or daughter, Barker said. In the last year, about 40 veterans looking for their children have contacted the Pearl S. Buck Foundation, a Pennsylvania relief organization devoted to helping Amerasian children, according to the Buck Foundation officials. The State Department has a list of 82 Amerasian children still in Vietnam whose fathers have petitioned for their emigration. Most of these are men who had long-term relationships with a Vietnamese woman. Some lived with their Vietnamese partners for a year or more. Some of the men lost touch with their lovers and children when the war engulfed the Southeast Asian nation. Others cited failed plans to bring women and children to the United States. For additional information, contact Jim Barker at 408-249-1643, or send electronic mail to either the Vietnam Veterans Valhalla BBS system in San Jose, California at 408-293-7894 or the VETlink#1 BBS in Pittsfield Massachusetts at 413-443-6313. ----------------------------------------------------------------- NamNews 1-02 Page 11 5 Dec 1987 ================================================================= MEMORY ================================================================= . by Boonie Rat . Probably no one in the whole world claims to be a connoisseur of ham & lima beans, but I at least claim to be an expert. All comes from an experience I had in Laos one time. . We were out on boogie patrol and scheduled to be resupplied on day-5. But we had a problem. Our regular RTO had gotten totalled the first day out, and he was the only one that knew all the comm codes. The guy that took over the Prick-25 was having trouble with communications back to the firebase. . Normally we'd just break squelch a couple of times a day as a sitrep, so the gooks couldn't triangulate us. But on day-4 we had to go voice to give them our supply needs. And we needed everything. Been in a firefight shortly after our insertion, so we were low on ammo. And almost out of food. I told the "new RTO" to be sure and have them send some double-ought buck for my boomer (best bush weapon around in my opinion). Hard to get them to send out anything except 16 and 60 ammo and blooper balls...your standard "organic" firepower. . We hooked 'em over to an LZ maybe 4 or 5 klix from where we were going to establish our next recon camp and waited for resupply. Chopper flutters in, kicks off some boxes, and pulls pitch without ever setting down...SOP. So, what do we get? 200 freaking pounds of comm batteries, but no 00-buck and worse yet, no chop...of any kind! All we had left were the dregs of our C-rats, mostly beans and MFs. . So we had to screw up our whole agenda and call for an emergency resupply. So, what do we get this time? We'd asked for lurp, supposed to be able to get lurp on boogie patrols. But they didn't even send C-rats. They kicked off two cases of K-rations...both of them beans and MFs! Man, were we ever pist. . So, you see, for 6 freaking days we had nothing to eat but beans and MFs. Kinda makes me an expert. And to this very day I will short-stroke a lima bean if it crosses my path. . Kinda funny in retrospect, I guess. We were all sitting around one day when this lifer asked us if we knew how beans and MFs got their name. According to him, legend has it that back in WW-II this GI was dining at the Sign Of The Green Can one day. He opens some C's with his P-38 and it was beans and MFs. Story goes that he speared a chunk of ham on the tip of his K-bar, held it up in contemplation, and mused, "I wonder who THIS motherf*..... was?" Supposedly the name stuck. NamNews 1-02 Page 12 5 Dec 1987 . But at the same time, I've also heard some people call it Ham and MFs. Even talked to a Navy SEAL one time that said they called it Beans and...er, well it has to do with a monkey's anatomy. Maybe you've heard it, too. Boonie (master of the trivial arts) Rat ----------------------------------------------------------------- NamNews 1-02 Page 13 5 Dec 1987 By: Lynda M. Van Devanter When I read about President Carter's call to renew registration of the draft, this is what I see: It is 3 a.m. in Pleiku, South Vietnam. The fighting in the central highlands is heavy, and I am called out of my sleep to the operating room. I have been sleeping on the floor under my cot, having been awakened an hour earlier by a rocket attack, as on most other nights. Even in my groggy state, the gruff words on the phone, "Casualties! Get down here, on the double!," are enough to send my adrenaline flowing, and I'm alert by the time I get to the OR. I change quickly to scrub cloths, and report to the head nurse for my assignment. "There's a bad one in the neuro," she says, "and I need you to pump blood in there." The neuro room is one that I don't particularly like to work in, since head wounds are usually so messy, but, even knowing that I am unprepared for the sight that awaits me. It's the largest trail of blood leading to the table that I have ever seen. I slip on it because my eyes are drawn to the gurney where several people are transferring the soldier to the operating table. I watch in horror as the lower portion of his jaw, teeth exposed, dangles from what is left of his face. It swings in the air as he is moved from the gurney to the table, and I hold my breath to keep from getting sick. For a moment I am glued to the spot. I thought I had gotten used to it but it keeps getting worse. The shout of the anesthetist brings me up sharply, and I rush to his side to assist him in a tracheotomy. "We've got to get an airway into him fast - he's drowning in blood." he yells, and my training moves me into action. I grab a tray of instruments and open it. For the sake of speed, we perform the trach without donning gloves. Once the opening into the boy's windpipe is completed, and he is being ventilated, I move to help the surgeon. He grabs instruments from the tray to clamp off the largest bleeders in the face and jaw. Meanwhile, the scrub technician is setting up the sterile field of linens and instruments, and, once the largest bleeders are tied off, the surgeon puts on his gown and gloves and they begin to work in earnest to try and repair the damage. Now I know what the head nurse meant when she told me that I was needed to pump blood. The young soldier is bleeding so fast that it is necessary to start four large needles in his leg, neck and both arms, and pump blood into all of them simultaneously. I do only this for several hours. I invent a routine. Start at the neck, take down the empty bag of blood, slip a new one into the pressure cuff, pump up the pressure in the cuff and rehang it. Then go to the left arm and repeat the process. Next the left leg, then finally the right arm. Then start back at the neck line and repeat the entire sequence. It takes about five minutes to complete the steps at NamNews 1-02 Page 14 5 Dec 1987 each site, about twenty minutes to make a round of him. It becomes rote after a while and I lapse into thinking about the patient. During one of my circuits around the table, I move his clothes to one side, and a snapshot falls out of the pocket of his fatigues, it is of a young couple - him and his girl, I guess - dressed for a prom. Tears come to my eyes. He is gazing sweetly at the girl. Straight, blond and tall, he looks good in a tuxedo. She, too, is tall, with shining dark hair. She is wearing a long pastel gown. Love for him shining in her eyes. The scene is stark contrast to what I see in this room. The lovely young man is now a mass of blood vessels and skin, so macerated that nothing could hold them together. The more the surgeon works, the more the boy bleeds. I've always held onto the notion that, given enough time, anything can be stopped from bleeding. Just keep at it, and eventually you'll get every last vessel. I am about to learn a hard lesson. I pump 120 units of blood i to that young man. But as fast as I pump it in he pumps it out. After hours of work, the surgeon finally realizes that it is futile. He wraps the boys head in layers of pressure bandages and sends him to the post op/intensive- care unit to die. As I clean up the room, I keep telling myself that a miracle could happen. He could stop bleeding. He'll be alright. I moved about the mess, picking up blood-soaked linen and putting them into the hamper. I come across the photograph again, pick it up and stare. He had been real. He was a person who could love and think and plan and dream - and now he is lost to himself, to her and to their fu- ture. I sit on the floor, my head in my hands, and sob. After making the room ready for the next head injury - the next person - I walk over to the post-op/ICU to see him. His bandages have become saturated with blood several time over, and the nurses have reinforced it with more rolls of bandage, mostly to cover it up, so now his head is grotesquely large under the swath of white. I hold his hand for a few moments and ask him if he is in pain. He squeezes my hand weekly and I tell him I'll request some pain medication. He squeezes my hand again iin answer. I stand holding hands with him for another few moments, the last of his life. My hands shake now as I write this, as they did then, and the tears return. I think of this incident again now, and of many others like it during that year in Vietnam. I am reminded of tiny children with their arms and legs blown off. I remember a pregnant woman with a belly wound, and the delivery of her child by Caesarean section - the child who entered this life with a gunshot wound in his belly, the perfect circle of life in war. A decade later, we have even more advanced weapons of war, and my heart aches with the thought that we may decide to use them. NamNews 1-02 Page 15 5 Dec 1987 When will we learn the lessons of past wars? When will we stop taking the seed of our lives, our children, and sending them to destruction? When will we realize that war does nothing but perpetuate war - that violence begets only violence? I ask our President and the leaders of the world community, can we not find some way of living together in peace and harmony? Can we not stop what seems to be carrying us inexorably toward another war - and possible nuclear destruction? I don't know the answer, I can only pray for peace. EDITORS NOTE: Linda M. Van Devanter, a registered nurse, was a Lieutenant in the Army, stationed at Pleiku, and Qui Nhan, South Vietnam from 1969 to 1970. She is the women's director of Vietnam Veterans of America and a published author of the best seller, "Home Before Morning"; THE story about nurses in Vietnam. ----------------------------------------------------------------- NamNews 1-02 Page 16 5 Dec 1987 By Mike Dealey (of 124/106) MORE CAT THAN WE COULD HANDLE I couldn't see much. Mainly just the shimmering reflections of starlight off rain-drenched palm leaves. 'Monkey light' the slopes call it. We were waiting in ambush. S-2 said a company-sized group of NVA cadre were coming down that trail tonight, and we were supposed to hit 'em and run. Dumb thing to do, but we weren't sweating it. I'd learned long ago that S-2 didn't know dip. They were ALWAYS wrong. Safest place to be is where S-2 said the dinks were. So we didn't expect Charlie to show and were just cooling it. Wasn't my watch, but I couldn't sleep; usually couldn't out in the bush. I was just letting my thoughts go with the flow when Jezebel came crawling up and said he heard somebody coming. "Coming down the trail, you mean?" "Naw, out in the jungle...I heard 'em walking." We listened. I put on the goggles, but couldn't see anything out of place. No unusual sounds. I woke the Scout, gave him the goggles, and pointed him up a tree for a better look-see. He came down shaking his head. We still couldn't hear anything but normal jungle sounds. By now I was thinking Jezebel probably heard a ghost. He was famous for being easily spooked. A drizzly night in the jungle in Indian territory can be spooky. Sometimes a palm leaf will fill up with rain water and suddenly dump out making weird sounds. It was Clark I think that took Jezebel's place on watch, and the rest of us started settling down again. And then... KERBOOM. One of the Claymores tripped. I looked up just in time to see a huge cat -- a Bengal tiger -- go bounding off into the bush. We could hear him roaring and thrashing thru the jungle for a few minutes, and then it got quiet again. Normal jungle sounds started returning and our adrenaline levels started coming back down. I was surprised the cat made it that far after taking a Claymore. True, it was aimed chest high. But chest high on a dink is not that much higher than a full grown tiger. And a Claymore doesn't have what you would call a full-choke. After an hour or so everybody was settling back in. I had doubled the watch and even I was getting drowsy; leaning up against a tree with legs stretched out and weapon in my lap. Kinda drifting in and out of a one-eyed sleep. NamNews 1-02 Page 17 5 Dec 1987 Suddenly my eyes popped open because "something wasn't right". I glanced at the watchman nearest me and his chin was down on his chest...asleep. My eyes slowly scanned the darkness of the perimeter of our small AO, and they stopped on another pair of eyes staring directly at me. The eyes were surrounded by a humongous white and yellow furry face no more than 5-meters away. My heart sank as I thought, "Aw, sh_t!" My brain was racing, trying to shake out the cobwebs and assess whether I thought this sucker would back off and leave. Just about the time my brain was giving a negative assessment I saw his muscles tense as he went into a crouch. I scooped up the boomer from my lap, thumbed off the safety, and pulled down on him just as he leapt. KERBOOM. A 12-gauge magnum...00-buck...point blank range...the cat's head exploded like a pumpkin in midair. I was trying to pump in another round as he landed on my legs, all 400 pounds of him. The force of this heavy body wrenched my right knee out of place, and even without a head he was still kicking and rolling around on my legs. I was screaming out in agony, and by now I'm surrounded by all these sleepy-eyed M16s. "Don't shoot! I'm under him. Just get him off of me!" So they did this. The cat gave up the ghost. Nobody closed an eye the rest on the night. And the dinks never showed. At first light, I sent some guys out to collect the Claymores while I tried to fashion a walking stick I could use as a crutch to get to the PZ a couple of klix away. Meanwhile, I was watching the Scout and another Yard we had with us dissect the tiger; taking the "valuables". Tail...heart... claws; the claws were almost 5" long. I've still got four of them on a necklace the Yards made for me. And they were delighted with the bladder. Carefully cut it out and tied it off so as not to lose any of the contents. Turns out that tiger pi__ is a highly prized commodity with the Viets. And this is sure a safer way to get it than most others that come to mind. I'll tell you sometime about how the U.S. Army paid 1000-pee for 1-ounce of it, and what we used it for. We were surprised to count at least 10 Claymore balls in the cat's neck and chest, and it didn't even slow him down. We made it back without further incidence, but it was a long time before it was forgotten. I took a heck of a ribbing for months after I got back with my knee brace. "Hey LT, you gonna get some more p***y this time out?" Even overheard them at the "club" tell some guys from another unit, "Man, we got the baddest LT in the Army...he blows p*****s away!" ----------------------------------------------------------------- NamNews 1-02 Page 18 5 Dec 1987 By Edward A. Howdershelt. For nearly twenty years it's festered deep within my soul; The time I spent in service in an Asiatic hole; The friends I lost for certain and the men we never found; And more than fifty thousand who lie sleeping in the ground. The times when those we went to help set traps for us at night, Or cringed behind some cover while we carried on the fight; the government that sent us there, but wouldn't let us win, And all the sorry bastards cursing soldiers 'cause they'd been... The ones who demonstrated, throwing words and sometimes stones; The ones who drew conclusions from the safety of their homes; So many who knew only what they saw on T.V. news, And journalists, safe in Saigon bars, creating peoples' views. The heat and dust and then the rains that helped to create hell, The vermin that disturbed our sleep and constant rancid smell; That night that fifteen hundred rounds of mortar fire came in, And Khe Sanh lay in ruins as we wrote to next of kin... The villages we found where Charlie'd been the night before, And left his message written in a family's bloating gore; The drugs that some men seemed to think would help to keep them sane, The only way that some men found to mollify the pain. The men who had so few days left, but died there anyway, And those who had a year to go, but died their first few days... A few of us cannot come back, although we're still alive, Some portion of us lost so long it may as well have died. And here, among the credit cards, and mortgages, and bills; And all the frantic people chasing all the petty thrills; Who never felt Death's presence in the dark at seven yards, Or faced a danger greater than the loss of credit cards... I wish that I could share with you some very special dreams; The kind that make you fear to sleep and hear, again, the screams... Our Fathers' wars made heroes, whether they were lost or won. I ask you why so different was this war you gave your sons... Copyright, 1987, by Edward A. Howdershelt. PO Box 530861, Grand Prairie, Tx. 75053-0861 Written for distribution on behalf of all veterans and for the use of the NON-PROFIT ORGANIZATIONS who help and support veterans. This is permission for such groups to reproduce this poem for free distribution and/or legitimate fundraising activities on behalf of disabled and destitute veterans. ----------------------------------------------------------------- NamNews 1-02 Page 19 5 Dec 1987 Christy Butler VETLink #1 Pittsfield MA, Node 321/203 "Overlook" - A Song of Then To the tune of Arlo Guthrie's "Coming into Los Angeles" Went to Nam in a DC-8 Flew it out of McGuire. Everyone on board was freaking out, You know we knew what time it was. \ Coming into old Bien Hoa refrain > Looking out for shooting stars / Make Love Not War won't you please! Those guys in line are Friends of mine Hope to see them later, Sweat pouring off every part of me, But what does it really matter. \ Working on the flight line refrain > Everything double time / Life here is a crime don't you know? Mama San, Papa San, Baby San all speaking The same old chatter Gimme gimme gimme, help me please Gimme gimme gimme, help me please Gimme gimme gimme, help me please Do you get the picture? Been here a year a month ago Everything seems so scattered. there's a Freedom Bird sitting on the pad Oh what the hell's my status? \ Flying out of Da Nang refrain > Nothing will be the same / Hope to remember my name, don't you know. Christy Butler, SSgt 366 FMS Da Nang 1 May 71 - 29 May 72 ----------------------------------------------------------------- NamNews 1-02 Page 20 5 Dec 1987 by Mike Dealey (of 124/106) UP AGAINST THE WALL Perhaps someone out there can help me. I guess I just need some advice, maybe. You see I've got this problem that.... Well, let me start at the beginning. The camaraderie of kindred spirits is one of the great joys of being a Nam vet. You run into another vet somewhere -- you never know where it might be -- maybe a business trip, a party, a reunion, anyplace. I always look forward to it. It's always fun to reminisce. See who can tell the biggest war story. Remember long-forgotten jargon. Trade recipes for "gourmet" C-rats. Often develops into an all-night beer drinking session. I go out of my way to talk it up with other Nam vets. That's why I'm here on this Intergalactic Vietnam Veterans EchoConference Telethon (whew). Of course you occasionally run into some dude who's still got the jolt. All he wants to do is tell you about the gory details of how Joe Blow got his shirt blown away at Dak To (or wherever). I just have to tune those guys out. Just stand there acting as a sounding board, nodding my head and clucking occasionally. But mentally I'm 200 klix away. I'm a firm believer that every man has to find his own way of coping. I found mine. Finally. After years of conscious effort I was able to forget the bad stuff...just smooth dumped it out of my memory. I had to do that. I couldn't forget the Nam; never will be able to. It's a part of me forever. Reshaped my whole future. But now I just remember the "pleasant" parts. Like how gooood the C-rats were. Like why I never heard a Cobra gun called a "snake" until I had gotten back to the World. Heck, even remembering that gosh-awful smelling antifungal cream that I had to use to keep the flesh from falling off my thighs is "pleasant" compared to the nightmare stuff. But I digress. You're probably thinking, "So what's your problem, buddy?" Well, it's this: Invariably, my new-found kindred spirit from Nam gets around to asking, "So, how did you feel the first time you touched The Wall?" I always just dread that question! I'm thoroughly convinced that everyone who can even spell Viet-Nam has seen The Wall. Now right up front let me say that I am not a cold, insensitive person. I mourned for those people. God, how I mourned! You will never know the number of sleepless nights of gut-wrenching (and retching) grieving. But that was 20-years ago. That's history. And you can't change history. Sh*t happens, man...don't mean nothing. There's a time for mourning, and there's a time for getting on NamNews 1-02 Page 21 5 Dec 1987 with your life. I had to make a decision...I blanked it out. A bit impatiently he asks again, "Well? How did you feel?" How do I tell him I've never seen The Wall...and will NEVER see The Wall. I don't think I could deal with it. I know too many names on that Wall. Far, far too many. I just couldn't handle it. But how do I tell THEM? How do I explain? What do I do when they say, "Oh...."? So many don't understand. They just don't understand. ----------------------------------------------------------------- NamNews 1-02 Page 22 5 Dec 1987 AND I WAITED . . . I married you because I loved you, and because you were handsome, and even though there was a difference of 15 years in our ages, I trusted you. We waited for your orders not knowing where we were going or if I could go. You told me it wasn't easy being married to a 'lifer', and I believed you, for you always told me the truth. And I waited . . . Hurray! WE are going to Japan! And I worried what it would be like living in a foreign country. You told me not to worry and I believed you for you always told me the truth. And I waited . . . You were right, I loved Japan, and I learned to speak Japanese as would a child. Your hours were long, and it seemed we seldom saw each other, but you told me it would soon be better and I believed you, for you always told me the truth. And I waited . . . I worried about the missiles Cuba, and you told me not to worry, and I believed you, for you always told me the truth. But, one November day came the news of the assassination of our president, and I didn't see or hear from you for eleven days. And I waited . . . Johnson was the president now, and things were looking grim in Southeast Asia, but you told me not to worry, and I believed you. I began to wait, and wait, because you were TDY so often and couldn't tell me where you had been, but you told me you were safe and I believed you, for you always told me the truth. And I waited . . . For our orders back to the States, and to a nice house and maybe a family, but you told me we had orders for Thailand. You said I would like it and I believed you, for you always told me the truth. I saw you even less in Thailand for you were always going TDY to places you said you couldn't talk about, but that you were safe and I shouldn't worry, and I believed you, for you always told me the truth. New orders for you came suddenly, and we talked a lot those last few days, and we decided it would be okay for me to stay in Japan with friends as you didn't think your assignment would take very long. You said I would be okay and not to worry about you, and I believed you, for you always told me the truth. And I waited . . . NamNews 1-02 Page 23 5 Dec 1987 . . . for 364 days and you were back in Japan. You spoke few words about South Vietnam but told me you were shipping over for six more years, but I musn't be upset, we had plenty of time for a family. I believed you . . . And I waited . . . And another tour in the Far East. The next three years you were TDY more than with me in Japan. It seemed what I did best those years was waving goodbye at an aircraft leaving the end of the runway. You told me being married to a 'lifer' wasn't easy, but I already believed that. And I waited . . . You told me you had orders for a tour in Vietnam, but not to worry, you knew the language and the people and you knew you would be okay. And I believed you . . . And I waited . . . When you came back to Japan you were different, but I couldn't say just what it was. You talked less and you were jumpy and the small sounds of traffic or a knock on the door nearly drove you crazy. You were icy cold at times, and there seemed no way I could reach you. I heard you cry out in a dream one night, and when I touched you, it was like an explosion. You hit me and you kicked me and you were so sorry when you realized it was only me. The orders came for Thailand again, but this time I couldn't go. You said it would be good duty, and not to worry and I believed you.. And I waited . . . Then you said you had another tour 'down south' and I worried. You came back again seven months later, with scars on your back and shrapnel in your legs and a two new ribbons on your chest, a Purple Heart and a Silver Star. You had the 'jitterin screamin meanies,' and jumped at every sound. The dreams had been bad before, but now they were even worse. I knew by now not to touch you in your sleep, and only to call your name. You had an ugly rash that wouldn't go away, and your nightmares were scaring me to death. You stared at every person you saw and you watched every move of the trees in the wind. You drank too much, but you said it would be okay soon and you were ready to retire. That was fine with me, I still wanted that family. We came back to 'the world' and you retired with 26. You were so spooky at times and the dreams were so bad I didn't think I could stand it anymore. I couldn't imagine how you dealt with the trauma of the dreams you had night after night. But you kept telling me you'd be okay, and I had no reason not to NamNews 1-02 Page 24 5 Dec 1987 believe you. We had a child so sweet and dear, but she died of cancer within the year. We cried and mourned together for a short while, and then you told me it was your fault and that you should never have fathered a child. I didn't believe you then and I won't believe that now. And I waited . . . The VA couldn't help the rash, and they kept cutting out the lumps that grew on your face and neck and arms. Your nerves were shot and you wouldn't talk to anyone about what was going on inside you, not even to me. You began to have terrible headaches and you said your vision changed at night. The VA didn't believe you but I saw you, and I believed. You got so angry at VA doctors when they told you the headaches were psychosomatic, and you flew into rages at everything and everybody, and even at God. I tired to get you to see a civilian doctor, but you said the country owed you, and you would get what you needed from them. You wouldn't talk to me, and you said I wouldn't understand, and I believed you. And I waited . . . I tried so hard to help and there wasn't anything I could do. The people we met didn't want to hear about Vietnam, and you told me not to tell anyone them you had been there. You said they were naive and cruel and they had killed your men one by one, not with bullets or bombs but with traitorous words and deeds. You told me you had been fighting for a country whose people did not care, and that U.S. policy was geared to public opinion by a President who would not let you win. The riots were going strong and Watergate was all the talk. Nixon pulled the troops out of Vietnam with 'honor' and you cried. The P.O.W.s came home and you cried, you said that wasn't all of them, and I believed you. You told me so many of their names and I wondered how you knew. You said we needed something to care for and we bought an Irish Setter pup and you taught it to quarter a field. You have him a funny Vietnamese call name and he grew and grew. You worked with him so hard and you loved us both. He grew and grew and became a Champion Working Dog. You told me you were going hunting and not to worry that you'd be back the next night. And I believed you. Now I sit and wait, and wait, and wait for the sound of the gate and your footsteps, and stories of the great hunt. I've been to the Wall and I've seen all the names, and I wonder why yours isn't there. But it's all right, you didn't die in Vietnam, you died as a result of the combat within yourself. I often wonder how many other women sit and wait NamNews 1-02 Page 25 5 Dec 1987 for the sound of a footstep, or who awake in the night and find our beds so empty. I wonder how many children wonder why their fathers could no longer bear to be with them. I wonder why you never told us you hurt so much. Three wars couldn't kill you, but you did. (Submitted anonymously) ----------------------------------------------------------------- NamNews 1-02 Page 26 5 Dec 1987 Don Griffith Enterprize BBS Pinole, CA Memories of a Boy Becoming a Man Christmas In Vietnam LZ Sandy December 1969 I have always been, and probably always will be, a "Christmas Junkie". My Christmas season began shortly before Thanksgiving. I had asked my mother to send me a small artificial Christmas tree, and all of the necessary ornaments to decorate it. I set up a table, built out of junk wood from powder canisters and shell holders, with a sheet to make it look more like a Christmas display. I also used that table to display the Christmas Cards that I had received. On my gun, there were about 8 men assigned to it. Each of us had spent a lot of time in October and November writing to everyone we knew. This was to insure that we would be on their minds when they started thinking about Christmas! Our ploy was very successful, in fact it might have been too successful. It seemed that whenever anyone started thinking about sending a Christmas "Care Package", they only had two ideas. In every package we received, well almost every package, contained among other things two specific items. Item number one was a fruit cake. The second item was hard candy. I can't remember the exact figures but, in total we must have received over 300 fruit cakes and about a garbage can full of hard candy. When I left LZ Sandy at the end of March, we were still trying to get rid of those crummy fruit cakes. It got to a point that none of the other gun crews would come over to see if they could mooch any "goodies" from us. They knew that all they would get from us was, you guessed it, a fruit cake. By this time, I had been in Nam for about 8 months. I had gotten used to eating food that had the delicious aroma of gasoline. For those that don't know, a lot of the food that was prepared in the smaller bases were cooked in or on gasoline powered cooking implements. On Christmas day (as well as Thanksgiving) we had a very nice Turkey dinner with all of the fixings. Our cooks, which weren't know for their skill in preparing food, out did themselves. I don't know if the Mess Sargent bribed them or if they just rose to the occasion, but that meal was just about the best I had in Nam. I guess that I was very fortunate to be based in a permanent location with some of the comforts of home. My Christmas, while it was sad since I missed my family and loved ones, was better than some of my brothers. It is not that I only remember the food, its that I prefer to remember only the good things that NamNews 1-02 Page 27 5 Dec 1987 happened in the Christmas of '69. ----------------------------------------------------------------- NamNews 1-02 Page 28 5 Dec 1987 ================================================================= TWENTY YEARS AGO THIS MONTH ================================================================= *20 Years Ago - December 1967 There were 485,600 U.S. military personnel assigned in Vietnam. There were 9,377 U.S. killed in action for the year and 62,024 wounded in action bringing the cumulative totals to 16,021 killed and 99,762 since the first American was assigned in that country. *Source: DOD/OASD President Johnson announced a Christmas pause in the bombing of North Vietnam, and asked for a positive reaction from the DRV. During December the number of reported enemy locations and movements increased significantly, as well as the number of enemy-initiated incidents. In the Quang Tri area alone there were 2 enemy rocket attacks, 3 ambushes, 3 assassinations, 2 instances of harassing fire, 2 mining incidents, 5 mortar attacks, and 1 attempted sabotage of the Ga Bridge. The enemy was reportedly suffering from lack of food and replacements, and general hardships. The Viet Cong infrastructure increased their efforts to gain more control in the fringe areas. There was a strong [emphasis added] indication of a planned large-scale attack. ================================================================= What were YOU doing in January of 1988? Let us know by January 1st and we'll publish it in the next issue of the NAM VET in the "20 Years Ago This Month" section. ----------------------------------------------------------------- NamNews 1-02 Page 29 5 Dec 1987 ================================================================= GENERAL ================================================================= By Steve Mason VVA Post Laureate from the VVA VETERAN August 1984 electronically reprinted for my brother, Todd THE WALL WITHIN 1964 - 1975 - 76 77 - 78 - 79 -80 - 81 82 - 83 - 84 - THIS WALL IS DEDICATED TO Mothers * Fathers * Sisters * Brothers * Wives * Husbands * Sons * Daughters * Lovers * Friends * And Most of All Dreams of the Men and Women Who Risked It All In Vietnam While You Continued To Lose Them During and After The War With Less A Chance Then They For A Parade and No Chance At All For An Explanation You lost them to: bullets, internment, drugs, suicide, alcohol, jail, PTS, divorce, but never never did any of you ever lose them to the truth which is now being shared across this great nation in such an act of spontaneous moral courage, its like may never have been seen on any battlefield in the history of mankind . . . (Delivered at Old Town, San Diego on Memorial Day 1984) Most real men hanging tough in their early forties would like the rest of us to think they could really handle one more war and two more women. But I know better. You have no more lies to tell. I have no more dreams to believe. I have seen it in your face I am sure you have noticed itin mine; that thousand-yard stare that does not look out - it looks in - at the unutterable, unalterable truth of our war. The eye sees what the mind believes. And all that I know of war, all that I have heard of peace, has me looking over my shoulder for that one bullet which still has my name on it - circling round and round the globe NamNews 1-02 Page 30 5 Dec 1987 waiting and circling circling and waiting until I break from cover and it takes its best, last shot. In the absence of Time, the accuracy of guilt is assured. It is a cosmic marksman. Since Vietnam, I have run a zig zag course across the open-fields of America taking refuge in the inner cities. From MacArthur Park to Washington Square from Centennial Park to DuPont Circle, on the grassy, urban knolls of America I have seen an army of combat veterans hidden among the trees. Veterans of all our recent wars. Each a part of the best of his generation. Waiting in his teeth for peace. They do not lurk there on the backs of park benches drooling into their socks above the remote, turtled backs of chessplayers playing soldiers. They do not perch upon the gutter's lip of midnight fountains and noontime wishing wells like surrealistic gargoyles guarding the coins and simple wishes of young lovers. No. I have seen them in the quiet dignity of their aloneness. Singly, in the confidence of their own perspective. And always at the edges of the clearing. Patrolling like perimeter guards, or observing as primitive gods, each in his own way looks out to the park that he might "see" in to the truth. Some, like me enjoy the comfortable base of a friendly tree that we might cock one eye to the center of the park toward the rearing bronze horsemen of other wars who would lead us backwards to glory. Daily, they are fragged NamNews 1-02 Page 31 5 Dec 1987 by a platoon of disgruntled pigeons saying it best for all of us. And with the other eye, we read the poetry of AMERICA THE BEAUTIFUL as she combs her noontime hair and eats precise shrimp sandwiches and salad Nicoise catered by Tupperware - and never leaves a single crumb. No wonder America is the only country in the world which doesn't smell like food. ...and I remember you and me picnicking at the side of the Ho Chi Minh Trail in the rain eating the Limas and Ham from the can sitting easy in our youth and our strength driving hard bargains with each other for the C-ration goodies we unwrapped like Christmas presents. Somehow it really seemed to matter what he got versus what you got. It wasn't easy trading cheese and crackers for chocolate-covered peanut butter cookies! And the pound cake - Forget about it! I knew a guy would cut a hole in it and pretend it was a doughnut. For six months I watched that and refused to ask him about it. I did finally. And you guessed it. He hated pound cake. And remember the water biscuit that came in its own tin? - I think they had the moxie to call it a cookie - it came with the marmalade and was made by that outfit in Chicago we promised to burn to the ground someday. Damn, how did your buddy, the animal, ever eat that crap? Then, we'd happily wash down the whole mess with freckly-faced strawberry kool-aid straight from the canteen; some days there'd be goofy grape (anything to keep from choking on the taste of purified water). Bleck. But somehow I sensed all the while that I'd never be able to forgive myself for enjoying your company so much or being so good at the game we played. We were the best - You & I. In our parks, NamNews 1-02 Page 32 5 Dec 1987 there are whole other armies of veterans mostly young and mostly old but always ageless who are not alone. They share with their families and their friends these open-aired above-ground time capsules of our national culture. They read aloud to themselves and their children from the plaques and statues, monuments and markers those one-line truths of our common experience as if there could be a real significance in words like Love and Hate tattooed on the clenched, granite fists of America. Sometimes, when I am angry it seems as if I could start my own country with the same twenty Spill and Spell words we shake out at the feet of our heroes like some crone spreading her hands over the runes prior to a mystic reading Words like: peace and sacrifice, war and young, supreme and duty, service and honor, country, nation, men and men and men again, sometimes God and don't forget women! Army, Air Force, Navy, Marines and freedom. Then, just as quickly, the anger passes and reverence takes its place. Those are good words, noble words, solemn & sincere. It is the language of Death which frightens me; it is unearthly to speak life concepts over the dead. Death is inarticulately final, refusing forever to negotiate. That, and the awesome responsibility we place eternally on our fallen teenage sons, seems unbearably heavy against the lengthening, prancing shadows of Sunday's frisbees. Apparently, there is no period which can be placed after sacrifice. NamNews 1-02 Page 33 5 Dec 1987 All life is struggle. An act of natural balance and indomitable courage. As it is with man so it is with mankind. If we permit Memorial Day to come to us every day, we ignore the concept of sacrifice and dilute its purpose. When we do that we incur the responsibility to effect change. If we are successful, the sacrifice has renewed meaning. It seems there is no alternative to life. But there may be to war... The values of our society seem to be distributed in our parks and reflected in the eyes of veterans who look there for validation and find only confusion and sadness. Strange, I have observed no monuments to survivors. No obelisk to mark the conflict of those who risked and lived perhaps to fight again or perhaps to speak of peace. Nowhere, yet, a wall for the living. There is no wonder guilt is the sole survivor of war. We do not celebrate life after combat because our concept of glory lives neither in victory nor in peace but in Death. ----------------------------------------------------------------- NamNews 1-02 Page 34 5 Dec 1987 There are plaques at the doorsteps of skyscrapers; in New York on 10th and the Avenue of the Americas it reads: IN MEMORY OF THOSE FROM GREENWICH VILLAGE WHO MADE THE SUPREME SACRIFICE IN THE KOREAN CONFLICT 1950 - 1953 In Nashville's Centennial Park in a shaded wood to one side of the Parthenon built to scale and to the glory which was Greece, a small statue stands; it is inscribed: I GAVE MY BEST TO MAKE A BETTER WORLD 1917 - 1918 I stood there one fall ankle deep in leaves and looked up at the night sky through a hole in a ceiling of trees wondering how much better the world might look from up there. From the moon only one manmade object can be viewed by the naked eye; The Great Wall of China (a tribute to man's functional paranoia) It's a peculiar perspective because we're a lot closer and the only manmade object We can see is THE Wall in Washington, D.C. (a veteran's solemn pledge to remember) There is one other wall, of course One we never speak of. One we never see, One which separates memory from madness. In a place no one offers flowers. THE WALL WITHIN. We permit no visitors. Mine looks like any of a million nameless, brick walls - it stands in the tear-down ghetto of my soul; that part of me which reason avoids for fear of dirtying its clothes and from atop which my sorrow and my rage hurl bottles and invectives NamNews 1-02 Page 35 5 Dec 1987 at the rolled up windows of my passing youth. Do you know the wall I mean? I learned of mine that night in the rain when I spoke at the Memorial in Washington. We all noticed how the wall ran like tears and every man's name we found on the polished, black granite face seemed to have our eyes staring back at us; crying. It was haunting. Later I would realize I had caught my first glimpse of the Wall Within. And those tears were real. You and I do not walk about the Wall Within like Hamlet on the battlements. No one with our savvy would expose himself like that, especially to a frightened, angry man. Suicide loiters in our subconscious and bears a grudge; an assassin on hashish. We must be wary. No. We sit there legless in our immobility rolling precariously in our self-pity Like ugly Humpty Dumpties. With disdain even for the King's horses as we lean over the ledge to write upside down with chalk, bleached white with our truth the names of all the other casualties of the Vietnam War (our loved ones) the ones the Pentagon didn't put in uniform but died anyway. Some because they stopped being who they always were just as truly as if they'd found another way to breathe. Others, because they did die - honest-to-God casualties of the Vietnam War because they lost the will to breathe at all. My mother gave her first recital at Carnegie Hall at age eleven. Sometimes, when I was a boy I'd watch her play the piano and wonder if God, after all, was not a woman. One evening when I was in the bush she turned on the 6:00 news and died of a heart attack. NamNews 1-02 Page 36 5 Dec 1987 My mother's name is on the Wall Within. You starting to get the idea? Our lists may be different but shoulder to shoulder if we could find the right flat cloud on a perfect, black night we could project our images upon a god-sized drive-in theatre wide enough to race Ben Hur across for a thousand years ... Because the Wall Within adds up the true cost of war ... We can receive 58,012 in our sleep even the day after they update it, but how many of those KIA had kids? How many of them got nice step-dads? Whose wall do they go on? And what about you vets who came home to your wife and kids only to divorce her because there wasn't anybody else to be angry at? How many dimes have you long-distance fathers dropped into the slot to hear how another man was raising your children? Yeah, Yeah, I can hear you hollerin', "Put it on the wall! Put it on the wall!" Damn right, it's on the wall... And you remember how that came down? You told the three-year-old his daddy loved him and his mommy loved him and nothing would ever change that. But it did anyway. But not because you didn't love him enough, but because you loved him too much to be a part-time daddy, and you couldn't explain that to him because you couldn't explain it to you. What the hell? I mean who were you, Spinoza? You came home a twenty-two-year-old machine gunner for chrissake, you did the best you could. PUT IT ON THE WALL!!! And somewhere, in an art gallery, maybe, is a portrait of American Grieving Parenthood; handholding, Rockwellian caricatures of wisdom and forebearance NamNews 1-02 Page 37 5 Dec 1987 and oh yes, pride sitting on the front porch of the township waving their lemonades at the Greyhound bus driver, Baloney. The names go UP! Because every time you can't find Mom, you damned well better call Doc Smith 'cause she's up on the second floor again sitting on the floor in Johnny's closet smelling his Varsity sweater with the sleeves around her shoulders sobbing something maybe only Johnny ever understood. But don't worry about dad, who never fished again, or watched a ballgame on TV again and won't talk to anyone this year between the ages of thirty or forty. He's doing fine. He just doesn't exercise as much as he should, but Doc Smith assures us there's no medical reason why the folks should have separate bedrooms; Dad just likes to read a lot these days. If you and I were men of common conscience we might agree on a collective dedication to our Walls Within. As for me they could all read: This wall is dedicated to mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, wives, husbands, sons, daughters, lovers, friends and most of all dreams of the men and women who risked it all in Vietnam while you continued to lose them during and after the war with less a chance then they for a parade and no chance at all for an explanation. You lost them to bullets, internment, drugs, suicide, alcohol, jail, PTS, Divorce, but never never did any of you ever lose them to the truth which is now being shared across this great nation in such an act of spontaneous moral courage, its like may never have been seen on any battlefield in the history of mankind... NamNews 1-02 Page 38 5 Dec 1987 Amen to that, brother. Steve Mason, Executive Suite, 1855 East Valley Parkway, Escondido, CA 92027. Telephone: (619)743-2206. ----------------------------------------------------------------- NamNews 1-02 Page 39 5 Dec 1987 Every Administration since 1973 has told the American public that the POW/MIA issue has the utmost priority in their administration. If you just look, you'd see it. The Nixon Administration secured the release of 591 American POWs from North Vietnam in 1973, but none from Laos or Cambodia (even though the North Vietnamese tried to make us believe that there were 8 Americans who had been captured in Laos, records show that all of them were captured and held in North Vietnam. There was speculation that he could have gotten them home in October of 1972 - but it would have cost him the election.) Then there was the Ford Administration, which was followed by the Carter Administration. The Carter Administration tried to have those individuals classified as POWs and MIAs reclassified as KIA (this change in status was done under the Missing Persons Act as outlined in Sections 555 and 556 of Title 37 of U.S. Code) The action of the Carter Administration brought about two law suits (McDonald Vs. McLucas, and Harper Vs. Carter). Now the Reagan Administration ... well, it's only been seven years. Maybe if these men were in another part of the world, say in the Middle East as opposed to Southeast Asia, and their status was changed from POW/MIA to let's say "hostage", this administration could get them home. In the past 14 years and four administrations (which were both Democrat and Republican) only the remains of 71 American servicemen have been brought home. Remember, these men answered their country's call and did their best. They could have just as easily have turned a deaf ear. But then if they had, President Carter would have brought them home. They'd be living happy, productive lives today instead of being in some God foresaken prison camp in Southeast Asia. THESE MEN ANSWERED THEIR COUNTRY'S CALL AND THEIR COUNTRY HEARD THIER ANSWER...THEIR FAMILIES ARE CALLING NOW...... WHAT'S THE ANSWER??? ----------------------------------------------------------------- NamNews 1-02 Page 40 5 Dec 1987 *Outward Bound's PTSD Therapy Program Is A War without Bullets from DAV Magazine DECEMBER 1986 P. 15-18 Bill Stoshack wasn't thinking about therapy. He took a deep breath and gripped the climbing rope laced through a rappeling ring at his waist. Then he stepped off the mountain ledge onto a cliff over 100 feet above the ground. "The only thing I was thinking about was reaching the bottom of that cliff in one piece," he said. Bill and seven other veterans from the VA Medical Center in Northampton, Mass., recently participated in a unique form of therapy in the mountains of western Massachusetts. They were the 22nd group from the hospital to participate in the Hurricane Island Outward Bound School Vietnam Veterans Program, a program designed specifically for Vietnam veterans learning to handle their post traumatic stress (PTSD). This Outward Bound program, which provides an intensive and stressful experience in a wilderness setting is led by Vietnam veterans. It's proven to be a powerful tool in helping veterans overcome PTSD. "Both patients and staff of the PTSD unit believe that significant steps forward are made by most of those who go throught he course," said William Boutelle, M.D., and chief of psychiatry. "They've been able to build rapport more rapidly between themselves and the staff, and often treat their therapy with more sincerity and openness. Most importantly, the course helps them to form a special bond which not only helps the vet through the program, but helps them after they complete it. "The course quite deliberately recalls wartime experience - back packs, maps, compasses, physical stress, fatigue, thirst, water that tastes of iodine, sleeping out at night, teamwork, mutual support, fear, unknown territory. Everything but the shooting is a part of it. The men experience again the positive feelings of pride in accomplishment of difficult tasks, camaraderie, the power of joint effort and helping one anothger. As field conditions trigger memories, there's time to talk it through with a supportive group. And the Outward Bound staff coordinates with our staff before and after the course to insure there's continuity in the therapeutic process." When Outward Bound developed its Vietnam Veterans Program, the DAV, a pioneer in PTSD service work, strongly supported it. "The DAV is the only veteran's organization that's donated money to help make our program possible," Bob Rheault said. A retired Army Special Forces Colonel, Bob talked about his battle to overcome PTSD at the group's first meeting. Others told of alcohol abuse, violent tempers, alienation, family crisis, divorce, depression, thoughts of suicide and nightmares NamNews 1-02 Page 41 5 Dec 1987 that had turned their lives inside out. "This group is a little unique," Bob said as the group met for the first time outside the hospital. "Of all the PTSD groups we've taken out in the past, you're the first to have physical disabilities as well. We don't know how it'll work out. We've got everything from a man with a leg brace to Chad Colley, a Past National Commander of the DAV, who's a triple amputee. We've got an age range from the mid-30's to 63. We don't know how much you can do. We only ask that you do what you can -- nobody's going to make you do anything. "Before we go out, I tell every group that you get out of this course what you make of it. The challenges are yours, and the successes are yours." After a traditional send off breakfast the next morning, the group headed off for the low ropes course. It looked simple enough, a bunch of ropes knotted into ladders, bridges, and swings tied to trees close to the ground. So, why were the helmets, and spotters needed? Bob and instructor Dave Oliver tried each obstacle, explaining that they weren't showing the group how to do them, just making sure each was safe (an Outward Bound requirement). It didn't look hard watching them do it. But when the group tried it, the rest of the morning was spent tangled, twisted and falling. Through it all, someone was always there to break your fall - a helping hand to depend on. Success drew cheers. Those who didn't make it got up, dusted off and tried again, encouragement ringing in their ears. Adjusting his leg brace, Ulysses "Click" Robinson looked at the high ropes course strung from trees 30 and 40 feet above the ground further up the hill. "With the trouble I'm having with these low ropes, I'm glad those aren't for me." Instructor Tom Dinsmore smiled and said, "They're next," Before moving to the high ropes, the instructors broke out climbing harnesses and carabiners and showed how to use them. They also demonstrated belaying, a safety technique using a rope secured safely to the climber's harness and anchored by another person. Belaying is teamwork and trust. The climber's life may depend on the belayer - an unwritten contract is made between them - a bond of trust. For some of the men, such trust had not existed since Vietnam. On the high ropes, they climbed a rope ladder high into a NamNews 1-02 Page 42 5 Dec 1987 tree, moved on across a "Postman's Walk," consisting of two ropes, to the last obstacle thirty feet away - a small log secured horizontally between two trees with nothing to hold onto. Climbers who slipped on the log dangled on the belay in midair. Make it, and you backed halfway out on the log again, turned and backed off the log to be belayed safely to the ground. Overcoming shaky knees, dry throats and fear, each man tackled the ropes doing all they could do. That night in camp, the men talked about overcoming the rough physical challenges of the day and of the challenges they must mentally overcome to defeat PTSD. There were many such discussions during the three-day course. The next morning they drove to a spot near the camp and hiked to the base of the mountain they would rappel down and climb up. Along the way, each took turns helping Chad in his wheelchair. At the base of the mountain they met Tony Contakos, their final instructor, who outlined the days events before they hiked to the ledge over 100 feet above them. Stoshack went over the edge on the first rope, Click Robinson on the second. Above them, Chad Colley, strapped in his wheelchair, belayed on one rope and Jim Pettitt handled the other. Jim's turn would come shortly and Chad's would come after lunch. After rappeling, they moved to the top of the mountain to eat. High on the mountain, the valley spread out below them in its autumn beauty. They'd earned the view, and they were soon earning more on the rock climbing course. All they'd learned was put to the test, as they searched for hand and foot holds, strained muscles to push and pull their way along and thought only of making it safely to the top. Later, Chad, rigged in a special harness, began his rappel. Tom moved down the second rope. The group watched them disappear over the ledge. Then they listened as the click of Chad's prosthetic arm on the rock face slowly faded and stopped. "I did it!" Chad's booming Arkansas drawl brought cheers from the ledge. The climbing had been going great as they gathered for the last climb of the day, but climbing is a lot like life - you slip and fall when you least expect it. Bob slipped climbing the corner of the cliff, pendulummed sideways, spun backwards, and slapped hard against the rock. His NamNews 1-02 Page 43 5 Dec 1987 belayer held on, honoring their contract. Dangling from the safety rope, pain painted Bob's face as the group moved into action and lowered him safely to the ground. After checking his injury, two of the men took him back to the hospital for a closer examination. That night at the campsite as they spoke, each man gave a part of himself and moved a little closer. But maybe it was Click that summed it up as well as anyone could. "I came out here and did things I never thought I could, but I said, hell, I'm going to try, and I did it! I gained some trust from you guys, and I gave some trust. I got to know some people I already knew by name, but I really got to know them. "I'm sorry Bob got hurt. I really like that guy. But I know that's how life is, and I know you can't let things like that stop you. You have to go on. I hurt, but I feel good. And if I can do this, I can beat PTSD." Before the group broke up that night, Tom gave each man a small Outward Bound patch. Then he read the inscription at the bottom of that patch -- "To Serve, To Strive And Not To Yield." "That's what it's all about. That's what we've been doing out here, and that's what we've got to keep doing" one of the men said. With organizations like the DAV and Outward Bound working with veterans trying to overcome PTSD, you can't help but feel they'll make it. EDITORIAL NOTE: This program has made tremendous progress since this article was first published by the Disabled Veterans of America. It has been featured on television news magazines and highlighted in other publications throughout the country. If you are interested in having a program like this one started in your state, contact your local DAV representative, or send a letter to the editors of the NAM VET, 28 Cecil Avenue, San Jose, Ca. 95128. We will forward your concerns to the correct people. NamNews 1-02 Page 44 5 Dec 1987 ----------------------------------------------------------------- NamNews 1-02 Page 45 5 Dec 1987 Out of high school only a few weeks, undecided about which college to attend, the Berkshire County teenager received his invitation to serve Uncle Sam. After completion of his Basic Training he was schooled in repair and maintenance of the M48 tank. Soon he was sent to 'Nam. 73 hours, about 12000 miles from rice paddy to Berkshire County and 13 months later (DEROS), walking down a darkened city street, he found himself wondering "Where can I find a job as a tank mechanic? Uncle Sam needed me and I served him well. Perhaps he'll help me with a college education or vocational training, readjustment counseling, or even a home loan like he did with veterans of other wars. Maybe he'll understand that yesterday's dollars given for veteran programs don't buy as much today." A car backfired. Instinctively he assumed the prone position, hands covering his head, and waited for the concussion. Today, no longer a teenager, living in a rented apartment, he supports his wife and family doing whatever unskilled job he is fortunate enough to find. She was pretty, caring, trained as a nurse. A chance for more professional experience in her vocation existed in Uncle Sam's service. She enlisted. She wanted to help like older members of her family had in past generations. Uncle Sam and America treated THEM all well when they returned. She was assigned to Saigon. Medevacs; body bags; flag-draped bronze caskets; grief; tears; pain; loss; DEROS... too late. Today, working on an assembly line, she tells no one she served - too many wounds, too many esily-open festering sores... She can't deal with that and raise her family, too. Besides, she doesn't think anybody could ever understand. "Channel 11 at midnight - Star Trek." Perhaps, afterwards, that elusive treasure: A good night's sleep. President Reagan led a chorus of civilian and military leaders who paid tribute to Vietnam veterans and welcomed them back into the national fold in ceremonies yesterday at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial and Arlington National Cemetery. "You are forever in the ranks of that special number of Americans in every generation that the nation records as true patriots," the president said to cheers from an estimated 150,000 veterans and others who gathered at the memorial on the Mall. THE WASHINGTON POST Nov. 12, 1984 P.1 TOUR OF DUTY: 11/19/87 "He went out good - doing his job as a soldier." "Daddy, why are there tears in your eyes? Why are you holding mommy so tight?" NamNews 1-02 Page 46 5 Dec 1987 Is there a Vet Center near YOU? Have you stopped in lately? Maybe they, too, would like to share some memories of Nam. ----------------------------------------------------------------- NamNews 1-02 Page 47 5 Dec 1987 The Vietnam Veterans Valhalla, Inc. intends to conduct its first corporate meeting of the Board of Directors of 1988 in January. At that meeting we will discuss the current charter and make recommendations as to ammedments to the corporate charter. We will also be examining our bylaws and making recommendations as to amendments therein as well. One of the items called for in the ByLaws of the Vietnam Veterans Valhalla, Inc. is an authorization for the Board of Directors to approve and appoint "General Members". At this time, being President of the Vietnam Veterans Valhalla, Inc., I am beginning a membership drive to recruit members from all walks of life who wish to serve voluntarily in this capacity. You need not live in the San Jose area - in fact, your residence can be anywhere in the world. One of the priveleges of a general member is the right to vote on all major activities and propositions to be considered by the Board of Directors, including all changes to the charter and bylaws. This is not a paid membership; there are no dues, either monthly or annual, although your contributions will be gladly accepted. To qualify you must simply indicate a desire to become an integral component in one of the most innovative non-profit Vietnam veterans service organizations to come about since the end of the Vietnam war. You do NOT need to be a military veteran or have served during the Vietnam war if you were in the military. If you are have such a desire and are willing to become part of this global operation, please complete the registration form below and mail it to: Member Registration Vietnam Veterans Valhalla, Inc. 28 Cecil Avenue San Jose, Ca. 95128 Registrants will receive a photocopy of the "Articles of Incorporation" and the "Corporate ByLaws" by return mail. I look forward to having you on our team. ================================================================= GENERAL MEMBERSHIP REGISTRATION FORM Vietnam Veterans Valhalla, Inc. 28 Cecil Avenue San Jose, Ca. 95128 ================================================================= NAME ________________________________________________ STREET ADDRESS ______________________________________ CITY, STATE, ZIP ____________________________________ NamNews 1-02 Page 48 5 Dec 1987 TELEPHONE NUMBER (DAY) ______________________________ (EVENING) _________________________ OCCUPATION __________________________________________ MILITARY SERVICE ____________________________________ DATE OF SERVICE ____________________________________ VIETNAM VETERAN (YES) ______ (NO) _______ NAME/NODE/AND PHONE NUMBER OF LOCAL INTERNATIONAL VIETNAM VETERANS ECHOCONFERENCE BBS SYSTEM ______________________________________________________ Nam Vet Newsletter Volume 1 - Issue 2 12/5/87 ================================================================= ----------------------------------------------------------------- NamNews 1-02 Page 49 5 Dec 1987 ================================================================= WANTED ================================================================= By: Alex Humphrey If you would like a rubbing taken of the name of a relative, friend or loved one from the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington DC, you can get it done by writing: Friends of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, Inc. 4200 Wisconsin Avenue NW Suite 106-108 Washington DC 20016 Attention: Name Rubbing -----------------------------------------------------------------