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In 1966 I dropped college and joined the Marines under threat of the draft. I wasn’t sure what I was doing, but some of my buddies were going, so who was I to stay behind. Never thought of running - conservative family roots, my country, my family, my life. Run to what, run to where?
I had no opinion. My country was fighting communism in a far off land. Better there than here. I knew nothing about a place called Nam. USA should have been involved with a different strategy, a better leadership, and greater support from the citizens.
My training consisted of two months of orientation in a branch, (boot camp), two months of basic infantry training and 1 month of staging.
. . .
During the 90’s I read "Things they carried" by Tim O'Brien. I found the country beautiful, rainy and green.
The experience of Nam was first and foremost about our commitment to each other. A letter, a can of beans from home, a picture of our girlfriends. Black, brown or white, we listened to either Motown, Jay and the Americans, or Buck Owens. We grew up with Leave it to Beaver, Gunsmoke, Sands of Iwo Jima, and either graduated or dropped out of the local high school in America. A camping trip with no tent or warm coco. It was about looking after your brother. Everything revolved around a well oiled, well protected rifle or machine gun.
My most vivid memories are those of combat and the images of combat from both sides.
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