Sara Davidson
|December, 2, 2020
He was 18, fit, trained, and pumped up to fight, when he landed at Tan Son Nhut Air Base in Vietnam in 1967. First thing he saw was a pile of 40 dead bodies in bags, stacked beside a chopper like a cord of wood. Moments later, he and the other recruits were fired on. “I’d never been shot at in my life,” the man recalled. “That’s when it hit home—it’s goddam war.”
Fifty years later, gray, wrinkled, and overweight, he was returning to Vietnam on an Old Glory Honor Flight.
The countryside was unrecognizable. At the scene of a horrendous battle he’d fought, there was nothing but a dusty field. He took a memorial coin from his pocket, dug his hands into the dirt, and buried the coin, speaking the name of the best friend he’d lost there, at age 18.
Then, as if on a rusty wheel, his thoughts turned to the men he had killed. “As you grow older, you think…to kill a human being…” He shook his head. “I did that.” There was one man he especially remembered. “In my mind, he was a father. He didn’t get to have the life I did. I’ve had children, grandkids, great grandkids.” His voice was rising until it became a high squeak. “He never got to do that.” Tears were running. He said he’d buried the memory and never spoken about it—to his parents, kids, even his wife—but now he was re-living it, encircled by other gray-haired vets.
This was a scene from a documentary I watched recently, Return to Nam, in which 52 vets from Wisconsin were flown back by Old Glory Honor Flight, which aims to heal and honor Vietnam vets.
If you were against the war, if you served in the war, if you wriggled out of serving.… even if you’re too young to remember the war, I recommend you see this.
The film begins 52 years—a lifetime—after the vets had been drafted or enlisted. Now they’re in their 70’s, and some look like they’ve done 50 miles of hard road.
All of them had tried to forget the war. When they came home, they’d been despised and ridiculed, even spat on. Masses of people across America, especially college students, were marching to stop the war, burning draft cards, shutting down campuses. One of the vets on the trip said, “I was drafted—I didn’t have a choice! I thought we were protecting our country from Communists. But those college kids blamed us for the war. They took it out on us vets, and I hated them.” He paused, then smiled. “I insisted my kids go to college.”
Another man said he threw away his uniforms. “I didn’t want anyone to know I’d been there.” He and the others took jobs as fast as they could, or went to college on the G.I. bill. They thought they’d wasted two years and didn’t want to waste any more.
Most never wanted to return to Vietnam. But they applied to go on the honor flight because they knew they had demons they needed to face and, possibly, put to rest.
After spending time in Ho Chi Minh City, which residents still call Saigon, they were driven to sites where they’d fought, like the Rock Pile, where nightmarish images overtook them. The Rock Pile was a pyramid-shaped mountain, hard as rock, which they’d been ordered to scale. When they neared the top, they were suddenly blasted by Viet Cong who’d been hidden. The few who managed to crawl and claw their way down were ordered to climb back up and carry their dead brothers down on stretchers.
“The smell was awful,” one recalled. “You’d grab an arm or a leg and it would pull right off. I got shot in the neck and it came out my back. I can’t believe I survived.”
Dale VanLanen from Green Bay, another survivor, said in a talk after the film that he’d hated the Vietnamese. “You learned the hard way that you couldn’t tell who was a friend or enemy, so you had to treat them all as enemies.”
The vets were surprised at how they were welcomed on their return. “We were treated like royalty,” Terry Therrien said. “We got nothing but warmth. I just love these people now. I feel more comfortable here than I did a week ago in the U.S.”
The Vietnamese seemed to harbor no resentment or ill will. At one restaurant, the owner, a woman who’d been the second highest leader of the Resistance, had kissed each vet on the cheek.
One of the reasons for the warmth was that few Viet Cong were still alive, and 70 per cent of the population were born after the war. They called it “the American war,” or “the short war,” although it had lasted 14 years. They still held a grudge against the French, the vets said, who’d occupied the country with an iron fist for 67 years.
Vietnam has prospered from business with America. There were skyscrapers in Saigon that hadn’t existed before the war, and masses of cars and “crazy traffic.” In a bar on their last night, the vets jumped to their feet and danced when the Animals came on the loudspeaker, singing, “We gotta get out of this place.”
After the film, which had been screened on Zoom by TRU Community Care hospice, there was a discussion with four of the vets. They were asked how they feel today about the Vietnam War. In a sentiment echoed by others, one said, “I’m not big on foreign wars. We’ve had nonstop war in the Gulf for 20 years. We can’t keep sending young men and women off to die—it doesn’t work.”
Another said, “I wish everyone was required to serve the country in some way—two years of national service. Send young people from New York to Texas, and Texans to New York. Send people from Florida to Michigan. Mix ‘em up, as happens in the military.”
They were asked, “Knowing what you do now, what would you have said to the younger you?” They shook their heads. “We were cocky,” one said. “If someone had warned me against going, I don’t think I’d have listened. Just another old fat guy trying to tell me what to do.”
* * *
There’s another cinematic look-back to the Sixties I recommend, The Trial of the Chicago Seven, directed by Aaron Sorkin, who’s 59. It surprised me to learn that this trial, which had dominated the news for five months, has been nearly erased from our national memory. When Steven Spielberg had approached Sorkin to do a film about it, Sorkin had jumped at the chance to work with Spielberg. But after the meeting, he immediately called his dad and said, “What was the trial of the Chicago Seven?”
I asked my kids and young relatives if they’d heard of it, and none had. Even people who were in their twenties at the time had only a foggy memory. “What was it about exactly?” one said.
The film hit home for me, as I’d been a young reporter then and knew the participants. Even though the portrayals of Tom Hayden and Rennie Davis are wildly wrong, the essence, the spirit of the trial rings true.
I’d love to hear your thoughts or memories about the Vietnam war and the Trial of the Chicago Seven. Please leave a comment below.
The most amazing thing about The Trial of the Chicago 7 is how little has changed since then and now.
So true. It really struck me, how similar the 60s were. Some of the marches turned violent, as when Natioal Guard soldiers shot and killed demonstrators at protests. The big difference then was that there was conflict within families, children against their parents, which was so painful. That doesn’t seem to be the case today, for the most part. Thanks for your comment!
Thank you Sara for sending on the information about Vietnam. All but one member of my graduating class in my fraternity in 1962 were in advanced ROTC at college. Several went right on to active duty. I chose to graduate school. I completed a Ph.D. in psychology while staying in the ready reserves. I first got assigned to Fort Sam Houston where I was part of a class studying emergency war surgery. When the base commander realized I and another psychologist had been incorrectly assigned there, I was re-assigned to Walter Hospital in D.C. There I had the responsibility for paraplegics, quadraplegics, napalm victims, acute psychiatric cases and soldiers who had lost limbs. I today remember many of those young men but one in particular demonstrates the disruption of lives. A young man was drafted who had just received a Master’s degree in Physical education when he was drafted. He lost both arms and legs during the war. He would sit many hours of the day strapped to a wheel chair crying for hours. I do not know what happened to him as he was transferred to a unit where they were said they would work on ways to increase his mobility. I was honorably discharged after my two years of active duty and found a position at a university counseling center and stayed in the ready reserves for another year. While at that university the Kent State fiasco occurred and I found myself on the campus I was at standing between a group of students who wanted to take down the U.S. Flag and the Sheriff and his staff, who with weapons were guarding the flag pole. The war still was there. I have the names of two dear friends on the black wall.
Thanks again for sending your message that included the powerful links. I have forwarded it on to other Vietnam touched friends and family.
Thanks, Daniel, for your comments and memories of the War. Hearing about the guy who lost both arms and legs made me so sad. I hope he was able to find more function and some peace in his later life. It seems like it would have been excruciating for you to work with all those men who were psychologically damaged in the war. I’ve often wondered why more young people haven’t been protesting the Gulf Wars. Probably because there’s no draft, and it seems very far away. Let’s hope we’ll be withdrawing from them very soon.
Thank you, Sara. Your blog prompted me to write to my 3 daughters and 3 grandchildren. Here’s what I
said: Dear Ones,
The Vietnam war was raging. It was a war that we never should have been involved in. We had been lied to by the politicians. I took you girls with me to the Lincolnwood shopping mall and paraded with a sign that I made: NO MORE WAR! You were 1,3 and 5 years old. I was the only protester there at that moment in time, but to this day I remember my outrage. And I am still outraged by the unnecessary loss of life…then and now. Whether bullets or a virus, if we have politicians who care not at all for the lives of others, we are in deep trouble. And the Chicago 7…I remember watching police and protesters downtown…another war being fought at the same time as Vietnam. This time on our own soil, Americans against Americans. Please do read Sara’s blog and please do not be complacent when wrongs are raging. Find ways to do something, anything, that promotes kindness towards one another. With gratitude for your very existence. Love, Mom/Grandma:
Thanks, Beverly, for your letter to your daughters and grandkids. Brought tears to my eyes when I read, “With gratitude for your very existence.” Kindness and gratitude are my practice now, so I resonated with what you entreat them to do. Warmest, Sara
My husband, a Vietnam vet, and I went to Vietnam to volunteer in 2018 and 2019, We first taught English in what was once a small village that was rapidly becoming industrialized. Sadly, the rice fields were disappearing, and pollution was rampant. The woman living next door would hug me every morning. I would visit her often, even though neither one of us spoke each other’s language. We returned for another volunteer opportunity where I taught in the first occupational therpay program in Vietnam. My students, all thirty six of them, were enthusiastic and appreciative of the “knowledge” I could impart to them. They would pick me up every morning in a taxi where we spent the morning at a Children’s Hospital. I have never experienced such thoughtfulness when my students would bring me food. I was hopeful that this trip would bring healing to my husband who had suffered from PTSD, and guilt over what the U.S. did to the Vietnamese people. Although I was a war protestor, I wanted to give back to the Vietnamese people. The warmth, hospitality, generoisty, and forgiveness of the Vietnamese is truly astounding. I received more from the Vietnamese than what I could ever give to them.
Thanks, Carol, for writing about your experience. I wish I’d done what you did — volunteered in Vietnam, to give back and in some small way making amends for what our country did. I salute you and your husband. (pun intended) Warm wishes, Sara
Hi Sara,
Reading this brings back memories of my six week Pilgrimage of healing and reconciliationin 2007 with Thich Nhat Hanh . It was incredible, beyond words. There were many vets among us and the sharing then and in veterans day weekend writers retreats at the Quaker center in the Santa Cruz Mountains since have been transformative. As Maxine Hong Kingston, one of my dharma teacher says “We’re all scarred veterans who need to look deeply within”.
Thanks, Harriet, it’s always great to hear from you. I agree with you and MHK. We are all, at this point, suffering from traumatic stress, after four years of bad news for breakfast, lunch and dinner. May the pendulum begin its swing back to sanity and comfort.
In the “J”, the Jewish News of Northern California, dated Nov. 13-26, 2020 there’s an article about the Chicago 7 in which Abbie Hoffman’s son, Andrew says “The real story has yet to be told.” I personally don’t remember anything in particular about the Chicago 7. It must have been reported on poorly at the time.
As for the Viet Nam War, it was a huge mistake for JFK to get the US involved after the French had left. The concept of Communism being a “domino effect” was false, and the government hurt our citizens as you pointed out. It’s amazing that the Vietnamese are in some ways doing better now and treating Americans decently. And then George W. Bush got us involved in the Iraq War for no good reason. I feel for the various Arabs (various countries) and Iranians who then tried to get rid of their dictatorships but didn’t know how to.
And do we know how to improve our country’s government?
Thanks, Linda. I’d love to hear “the real story” about Abbie Hoffman. I met him once or twice, but never came to know him. To fight wars is apparently part of the human genome, but we must never cease protesting it, and promoting love and peace. The words became hackneyed in the Sixties, but they still resonate for me.
Hi Sara,
Thanks for this great blog entry. I look forward to watching Return to Nam.
I graduated from UC Berkeley in June ’65, and from there went to grad school at the University of Wisconsin. From the frying pan to the fire. I picketed and marched a lot during those years. It was a difficult time, especially for young men of draft age. I remember getting to know some who’d been in combat. They were unhappy, conflicted, troubled. I’ve recently met some Viet Nam vets. They’re still scarred by their experiences there.
I recently saw “The Chicago Seven,” which brought back so many memories. Most notably these memories were related to Jerry Rubin. He and I met in the Spring of ’64, a year before he helped organize the Viet Nam teach-in on campus. We had a few dates and then became friends. He was very bright, very political, very opinionated, though not yet an activist. He was also funny, charming, friendly and cute. That summer he toured Cuba, which radicalized him. His anti-war activism was a perfect opportunity for him to express this radicalism.
I was disappointed with his portrayal in the movie. He came across as a goofy clown who wasn’t taken nearly as seriously as some of the other defendants. I felt it was a superficial portrayal that was more of a characture than a well-drawn individual.
Those days were heady, confusing, stressful, hopeful, and disappointing. It was tough trying to figure out what to do to as a fresh young college grad when there was so much uncertainty swirling around. My memories of those days are vivid. I was young, impressionable, and uncertain. I hated the war, but I also disliked the chaos at home that the anti-war movement created.
Lots of friends have visited SE Asia, and talk about how beautiful it is and how wonderful the people are. I’ve travelled throughout the world, but have no desire to go there. I still see it as a land where blood flows, children are napalmed, and there’s death all around. Maybe I’ll go, but it’ll be with a sense of guilt and grief.
Thanks for your blog entry. It flooded me with memories and tears.
Peace, Jean
Thanks so much, Jean, for your comments and memories. I agree with you about Jerry Rubin. I knew him when he lived in LA in the 70s, before he was killed in a car crash. He was definitely an egotist who loved the spotlight, and he was passionate, smart, and funny. I mourned his loss. Warm wishes, Sara
I lived in Urbana, Illinois, about two hours by train south of Chicago. As a graduate student under pressure from the draft, I listened with interest to what was happening in Chicago. Friends discussed whether to go to Chicago for the convention or not. Probably because of the cost of the train ticked, I decided not to go. Besides, if memory serves me right, by that time I had been arrested for refusing to serve in the army. Actually, it had been the government that had refused ME when I had refused to affirm that I would obey all orders. In any case, even without a television, my wife and I followed the police riots, the convention and then the trial with interest. We read the two local papers and listened on the radio.
But, wait, you might ask what of my arrest. Well, I had, as I said, “refused” induction. My name was one of two posted at the local draft board as “wanted” even though I was living quite openly a few miles away, subbing in public schools. After my arrest and release on my own recognizance, legal proceedings started. The judge who was to hear my case was none other than Julius Hoffman. And the prosecuting attorney was the Republican district(?) attorney aiming for higher office (secretary of state?/ states attorney?).. The ACLU had not been interested in my case, a running colleague at the U of I was not interested in taking my case because my C.O. grounds were too complicated to make a nice, clear legal case that would look great on his resume as a lawyer. I had wound up hiring a very kind lawyer in Chicago who said I could pay him later, when I had enough money.
My father, a WWII veteran, reserve officer and supporter of the war in Vietnam, drove me up to Chicago for — I thought — my trial. As it turned out, it was a pre-trial hearing. When we got to the court house, instead of the originally designated prosecuting attorney, who, I surmised, or was told by my lawyer, felt my case would not be splashy enough for him and had handed my case off to a young black attorney. This gentleman was more interested in a reasonable settlement than in getting a conviction. After talking to him with my lawyer, my father standing by, we entered the august chambers of — no, not Justice Hoffman, but — Abraham Lincoln Marovitz. Because of Judge Hoffman’s busy docket, my case had been given to Judge Marovitz.
It was only the second time I had been in a court room; the first had been as a Boy Scout observing a low-level trial in the Urbana county courthouse. This room in Chicago — which in my memory contained a high bar of lovely dark wood with the judge and paraphernalia behind and a small area in front where the contesting parties stood in front of it — was much more imposing even though simpler and smaller. This was for real — and it looked it. At some point it became or had become clear to me that this was not going to be an actual trial but quite literally a hearing, with a judge, about whom I knew nothing, listening to what the two lawyers and I would say. Like my father, the judge was a vet. He spoken in a grandfatherly way to me about the honor of serving my country. My lawyer, the prosecuting attorney or I explained that I had tried to enlist as a C.O. but been rejected. The judge was not exactly perplexed but certainly moved. He asked if I would serve, as a C.O., if ordered, I believe I replied that I would as long as I would not have to follow orders that were against my conscience. So be it, he said. and ordered my local draft board to re-designate me from IA to 1A-O even though I had no religious basis for my status.
The case being resolved, the judge invited my father and me into his private chambers . Gladly did we go to see his incredible Lincoln memorabilia. He regaled us with tales for some minutes before we were excused.
This is far from the end of the story, but it is the end of the part related to your article at least tangentially.
Wow, Kim, thanks so much for your comments. I loved hearing about your experience, including your close brush with Julius Hoffman, who lives in infamy. I doubt you would have had the same warm experience. I happen to be a great fan of Lincoln and read many books about him. I especially liked Gore Vidal’s book, Lincoln. I hope you’ll write more about your experiences. Warm wishes, Sara
Sarah you’re not allowed to say something like, “. Even though the portrayals of Tom Hayden and Rennie Davis are wildly wrong, the essence, the spirit of the trial rings true….” and then stop. You were a young reporter then and knew the defendants? DO TELL, how were the portrayals wildly wrong??
HI Sandra. I knew Tom Hayden well; he was a passionate, brilliant, articulate firebrand. In the film, he looks and acts more like a preppie. And Rennie was portrayed as a nebish. He too is brilliant, and had a great deal of experience and knowledge of protesting the war. He’s currently a spiritual teacher living in Colorado. I think Jerry Rubin was poorly portrayed also. See the comment above from Jean Barish. If you watch the movie, I’d love to hear your response. Warmest, Sara
I spend a day as activist and journalist in 1972 driving long time antiwar activist David Dellinger ( Chicago 7) around Wisconsin to give talks. He told a technical college class the story of his last trip to North Vietnam – the war and bombing was very much in progress. He said that he told the Vietnamese he felt badly for them as their country was being so damaged by the massive air strikes. “Don’t feel sorry for us” they told him. ” We know why we are living and dying. Feel sorry for your country because you don’t know.”
That has stuck with me to this day. Return to Nam, and your blog contributes to knowing. As does an excellent book that came out this year “May Day 1971” by Lawrence Roberts. It tells the story of the largest mass arrest in the history of the United States. It uses Nixon’s tapes to recreate dialogue and has a great story about Vietnam Veterans Against the War (VVAW) More forgotten history.
Stay safe.
Thanks, David, for your memories of Dellinger. And for the book recommendation. I’ll be eager to read it. Warm wishes, Sara
As always, thanks Sara.
Here is the web site of the author. Think it might be of interest. I directed him to your web posts.
https://www.lawrenceproberts.com/book/mayday-1971-the-book/
In the late 70’s I worked as a Clinical Social Worker for 3 years with a Vietnam Vet. When I left my job at the VA Sepulveda, he was still quite challenged with PTSD and alcoholism, though better than when we met. We lost all contact. About 3 years ago I looked for him on Facebook. We ended up on a lengthy phone conversation. He attributed his help to those of us at the VA but also his time living with a group of Native Americans with whom he lived for several years. He became sober with them and started practicing some of their spiritual traditions. What a journey. I am grateful for the reconnection.
Thanks, Laurie, for sharing your experience with Vietnam vets, especially the one who found support in healing from Native Americans. They have their own generational trauma, which is horrendous. I feel we have never made suitable amends to them.
Stay well and healthy, Sara
Sara, thank you for this info. I am watching The Trial of the Chicago Seven now. And, the black and white footage, I believe, is from the actual attack of police to the student protestors. I remember the scariest thing I ever saw was when I, as a young teen, watched this on tv and saw two police beat a pregnant young woman, in the stomach!!! I still have nightmares! I absolutely remember this. I think college professors should show it in their classes. I know you remember this! It was a scary time. I also remember the Pentagon Papers ( The Post). I’m glad they’re making these movies.
I thought that our country had never been as dangerous and messed up as it is now with Trump. But, after watching this, we’ll… we’ve really never healed and we still have idiots in charge sending Feds to attack innocent people. And the thought of George Floyd!! How the hell can something like that happen? The same as two officers beating a helpless, pregnant woman! It’s sickening and terribly upsetting. I really had to stop the movie when Bobby Seal was … in the courtroom after being taken away. Those officers were like Nazis! I was literally physically sick watching this! But, we can’t give up. We have to keep working for change.
Anyway, thanks for posting this. I did not know about Old Glory. That was nice to read about it. I’ll watch at some point. Must have been very healing. We can all use more healing.
I’m grateful for Kamala Harris! She is a bright light of hope.
Hope you’re well.
Respect and Blessings, Joey
As soon as I began reading about the veterans returning to Viet Nam, I wanted to send this piece to my friend, Marian Palaia, whose novel, The Given World, deeply explores the emotional landscape of people who loved and lost people to that war, and of veterans returning to the scene of the crime. I loved reading her book and I loved the characters in it. I hope she joins your blog list.
I was excited to watch the Trial of the Chicago Seven – my partner Joe and I marched against that war (on different coasts) and Joe, who served as the police liaison for some of the DC marches, knew several of the Seven personally. I was dismayed by the weird script-writing about of some of the Seven, and also by the rage with which this was received by those who were there, or who weren’t, but knew what really happened, because, like you, I was cheered that, at least, the heroism of these people was being portrayed, that their story was being told, even if badly.
Dear Sara,
After reading your post about Wisconsin Veterans going back to Vietnam for the Old Glory Honor flight I forwarded your blog post to my friend, Dick, in Green Bay.
Our high school gang of five, Dick Jim, Butch, Steve, and myself, grew up together.
Jim, Butch, and Steve went into the service.
Butch and Steve went to Nam.
Dick and I went to college.
Steve,, my best friend, died in Viet Nam two weeks after he got there in 1968.
By the age of 17, Steve had his pilot’s license, he played piano and trumpet. Although Steve never graduated from high school he was brilliant. He was a rebel. He was the only one of us that was not a virgin.
He joined the service with the naive hope they would provide him flying hours so he could be a professional pilot when he got out.
In those old days, whenever Steve was at my house, and we were trying to escape into the teenage night, my Mom would not let us leave until Steve played ” She’s my little Sheila, blue eyes and a pony tail”, for her. He’d sit down at the piano, light up the living room in song, and put a smile on her face. Then out the door we’d go. My mom loved him.
During the 50th year class reunion for our graduating class of 1967, we were given special balloons for the classmates who were no longer with us. The Viet Nam Vets had special balloons with the stars and stripes on them. The class organizers asked me to send off Steve’s balloon which I was honored to do.
But the string was not tied properly and while all the other balloons floated up into the sky, Steve’s balloon escaped and scittered across the parking lot and down the street, like a street urchin balloon, like a message, exactly the way he would have wanted it.
Your blog brings back some fond memories.
Thank you,
Bruce
Wow, Bruce, what an amazing story. I grieve that such a gifted and spirited young man (and great friend to you) had to die that way. Is his name on the wall? You make me wish I had known him. Thanks for your writing.
Great movie!!
This was a beautiful, sad, yet emotionally redemptive video. It was difficult to watch in some ways, but ultimately cathartic. Thank you for this.
Glad you found it worthwhile. Thanks for your words.
Hi Sarah. I went to Viet Nam with a group of vets in 1994 and filmed them doing humanitarian work and going back to where they’d been stationed. It was very similar to what you describe — the Vietnamese treated them like royalty. My movie is on my website, anncrawford.net. It won a very prestigious award for educational documentaries.
I read Loose Change when I was 20 or so and it had an extremely profound impact on me. You might be one of the reasons I became an author.
With much love and appreciation,
Ann
Thanks, Ann for your kind words. I’m very happy if I had some role in encourageing you to write. Congrats on your movie. This is such an important subject. I’ll check it out.