Fiftieth Fatigue? A Summation

On February 12th the New York Times cancelled its  “Vietnam ’67” newsletter for the week .  Naturally, as Marine veteran of the war during that year and into 1968, I have followed the series, edited by Clay Risen, pretty closely since it began last year.  Its most recent entries have focused on Tet and the battle of Hue–an event at the center of an emotional, for me, commemoration that I attended last week of a Marine killed in Hue. Therefore, I think I was ready for this break–and the opportunity to use it to create a kind of summation.

The series has included materials by a wide range of contributors. Many are vets, some are family members, and many are Vietnamese. The series has included work by academics and other careful observers of the war. (The archive of previous newsletters can be found at this URL:  https://www.nytimes.com/column/vietnam-67?emc=edit_vm_20180212&nl=&nlid=53613712&te=1).  I have read far fewer of the contributions than perhaps I should have, and in scanning the archive today I found myself pausing time and again as a story caught my attention. A few, very few, examples:

“Blood Road,” by Rebecca Rusch, about Rebecca’s bicycling the Ho Chi Minh Trail in Laos to find her father’s burial site. He was weapons systems officer on an F-4 shot down early in March 1972.  She made the trip in 2015. My Marine cohort from Basic School in 1966 has a similar experience as the widow of one of our lost flyers reflected on the search for the remains of her husband in the Marine Corps Gazette. I mention Rusch’s article because it speaks to the lives of those who lived to bear the suffering and other burdens of losing loved ones in war. We are fond of saying our lost should never be forgotten. Neither should we forget  the families of those who died.

 

 

 

“The First Time I Met Americans,” by

“At Quang Nam, a Raid and a Reckoning,” by

The stories I most appreciate do little to take on the “big” questions.  I listen/read to the arguments, sometimes with interest, but mostly politely. The questions will never be answered.  Instead, my favored stories address individual experiences and feelings and thus approach describing, pixel by pixel, the full complexity of that experience–pixels I can’t even organize entirely for myself–the above being a feeble attempt to do so.

Stories that trouble me the most are those that demonstrate an improbable prescience about the future from those with lenses of limited focal length.  As fellow veterans of the period covered in this series like to say endlessly, “When I left, we were winning the war.” Yet that was never–or rarely–said with any confidence that we were truly marching to victory in 1967.  Nor were we speaking cynically about the future. For many, though I can only speak for myself, the outcome we eventually saw in 1975 was hardly preordained, and at least this Marine could speak, and I think honestly, that as difficult as the fight had become there seemed to be grounds to continue it and to keep the faith that something good could still come of it.  But, by the time I got home and heard the points of view of classmates I had left behind in college, I learned that the position had become pretty indefensible in their minds. In this respect, truly saddening has been reading the poisonous comments of some readers,  as though they are not only reading about 1967 and on but they are living in the period.

Looking ahead to Vietnam ’68 (will the series thus be renamed?), I see another two years of reflections on the war with personal meaning.  Non-infantry members of my 1966 cohort of officers would follow after more extended training throughout 1968 and into 1969.  Lives continued to be lost and those who lost them and those who were left behind must continue to be remembered.

One thought on “Fiftieth Fatigue? A Summation”

  1. Andy, thanks for your kind comments, and especially your support and friendship over these many years. You are right on about Tom’s loss. I have analyzed the memories of July 2, 1967, but realizing W – 1 -12 did everything possible, just adds frustration to sadneess. As bad as that day was, the overall situation only got worse as the summer wore on into autumn. My battery’s man power went from about 92 when we got to Con Thien in mid – May to 35 when what was left of it was pulled off of Con Thien 6 months later. However, my men along with the rest of the Marines and the other services did their job. We can take some since of pride in that, but what in the world can the Gold Star Mothers, widows, and children who never even got to meet their father take out of it? They are the ones who paid and daily continue to pay the highest price. Thanks again; Semper Fi.

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