Tuesday, July 3, 2018
I ain't no senator's son....
So we are sitting on the porch and a helicopter is hovering over the neighborhood. It has to be a police helicopter and they must be looking for something. Anyway the noise was unbelievable and right over head. So I did the only thing I could.
I went on Youtube and started playing Vietnam songs.
And looked in the shrubs for Charlie.
It took me back. I was never brave enough to serve like AllenS. In fact the first year I was eligible the draft was over. I think I would have enlisted if I was going to get drafted because I wanted to be in the Navy like my Uncle. My Dad would have kicked the shit out of me if I tried the Army because he served twelve years. He told me that if I didn't have to go I shouldn't. The service in the early seventies had a lot of problems. Drugs. Racial. It was a bad time and I had a scholarship so I never thought about it at all.
Still I remember Vietnam vividly. At least the effect in Brooklyn. A bunch of guys got drafted but a bunch also volunteered. The guy who lived on the top floor of my brownstone enlisted in the Marines. He was hot shit. He had a convertable and was always riding around with a different hot chick in a miniskirt and gogo boots like Nancy Sinatra. In 1966 he enlisted and did pretty great. He got promoted to corporal and came back on leave to visit his Mom. Couldn't buy a drink. Then he was shipped over to Nam.
They blew off both of his legs. He came back with a chair and a bag. For what? For a bunch of miserable gooks who ended up turning Commie anyway and now have factories that put our people out of work. I truly value with AllenS and his buddies did. Their nation called and they answered. With bravery. Fidelity. Courage.
Just like the soldiers at the Little Big Horn. Normandy. Getttsburg. Iraq. Afghanistan.
I just don't know why we need to ask our best to give up so much for the scum in other shit holes. We need to protect our homeland. Secure our borders. Not spend billions protecting the Krauts and the Frogs. I hope the God Emperor bitch slaps Merkel and pulls our guys out of Krautland. Or at least moves them to Poland, Hungry or Czechoslovakia. Places where they have our back. Otherwise we need to take out boys home. Now.
Random thoughts while I sip coffee and listen to a helicopter over head.
It's just a shot away.
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14 comments:
Flashback, eh?
If we don't get a wall pretty darned quick more will be lost than Trump's legacy.
I used to get the same attitude when BarryO would noisily copter overhead on his way from the airport down to Moneyland (Palo Alto). Don't have that problem at all with the current admin, bless them.
Trump is trying to be smart about these things and it seems to be working. He had a phone call with Mexico's new Preezy and the guy has suddenly changed his tune.
A bunch of guys got drafted but a bunch also volunteered.
Interesting fact: By proportion, more guys volunteered for 'Nam than WWII.
And the people in South Vietnam weren't bunch of miserable gooks who ended up turning Commie anyway. They were invaded by the Commies who were allowed to gain a 3 to 1 advantage in tanks and artillery and a 5 to 1 advantage in tac air. And the Lefty Democrats who sold them out loved it (I will always the smarmy smile on McGovern's face as he talked about it).
It's estimated about a half million of those miserable gooks were murdered by the VC during the war, another half million or so disappeared in the political re-education camps, and another million boat people died trying to get out of there, and that leaves out the million or so Montangnards who were exterminated by the NVA.
I do find it weird that today, we are further removed in years from Vietnam than Vietnam was to WWII.
¿Es demasiado pronto para sugerir que bombardearemos la Ciudad de México?
I was never brave enough to serve like AllenS
Thank you for the kind words, but I was drafted. I know a whole shit load of Vietnam veterans, who have went back to "the old country", which means Vietnam, and 99% of all of the people from VN love Americans. I'll bet they love Trump.
A bunch of guys got drafted but a bunch also volunteered.
Lacking Allen's bravery I volunteered so I could get a job to better my chances of staying off the KIA roster. So this farm kid meets a beautiful Vietnamese girl who grew up in the rice paddies and had been engaged to a Vietnamese boy who was drafted to fight the VC and got killed. She then moved to the city, learned English and became a bar girl. She and I fantasized about going to Hong Kong. We had no idea what we'd do there. We were lovers in a war zone. She wrote poetry and believe me my friends gave me some shit about that. Poetry huh?
I don't like to think about what her life was like after the fall of Saigon. She probably became the victim of some horrible and violent commie notion of justice.
Dang it, Troop, those songs you posted put me in this flashback mood.
Thanks for sharing that story, Dad Bones. I didn't serve and I often wonder what I missed. Some guys from my small town never came home, others came home drastically changed and others now sit around the VFW Hall and tell stories that begin "You won't believe this shit..."
Allen and anybody else fought a war as tough as any we ever faced, those of us who never were called owe them everything. They expected people back home to support them and (dare I say it?) were stabbed in the back by a lot useless idiots led by KGB apparatchiks.
It's only now in the third generation that they are destroying themselves, thanks in no small part to a guy named Trump.
Dad Bones, yes, thanks for sharing.
Troop, I wrote this elsewhere today...
"Most everyone I knew at the time was there for that reason, trying to help the Vietnamese retain what freedom they had and hopefully gain more. That was basic enough motivation for enduring what we did. I've been accused of being naïve, cannon fodder, etc. In a big picture way I suppose that's true, we were used, but it would have been worth it had we succeeded. But we were betrayed due to the socialist influence on our political system. I'd do it again, as I met many good Vietnamese people who's desire was just that, freedom."
And then I got shit for that statement...
"What an appallingly dumb statement. How many Americans should have died for the freedom of the Vietnamese?"
And I answered it thus...
"Same amount as died at Normandy, or Belleau Woods, or the Battle of the Bulge to help others keep their freedom. What are you, a fucking racist, are the Vietnamese less worthy of freedom than a Frenchman. Asshole."
And just so you know, I volunteered for the Marines, plus volunteered for two tours in Vietnam. So, as above, call me naive or stupid if you care, but I would do it all over again.
Well said, XRay. I have a lot of respect for you guys who did the real work over there. I was stationed at an in-country R&R city and would see them when they came to town to unwind amongst the Army and Air Force support personnel. In comparison our fatigues were clean, our boots still had a bit of a shine, and most of us didn't know what a thousand yard stare was. We also slept in beds, ate hot food in mess halls and still received combat pay. Not an equitable arrangement but that's the way it was.
In my spare time I wandered the streets of Nha Trang and talked to a lot of Vietnamese. I found them to be fiercely proud of their heritage, even the bar girls. I'd take my Vietnamese phrase book with me and crack them up with my poor pronunciation. Every time I'd mangle a word they'd have a fit laughing because they rarely heard an American try to learn their language. They were eager to help though.
One thing I was able to do for one family that seemed to matter more than anything else was to use my military address to order stuff for them from Sears and Montgomery Ward. They had the catalogs and wanted as much stuff as I could order. They might have chosen the freedom of American capitalism over Ho Chi Minh's Communism but he was a Vietnamese nationalist which, as the French and Chinese learned, seems to matter.
Dad Bones, I do hope you read this. The first of my two tours was as admin, or, fucking office pouge if you prefer. Though, I did just look up the official definition of 'pouge'... damn. I got to Danang in Feb/66, and believe it or not they were still allowing liberty in town.
Well, you know, I was going to say a lot more, but what's the fucking point.
I hear you, XRay. I'm sure you have a ton of stories. Glad you made it back.
Thank you, Dad Bones. Same to you.
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