If you were a Grunt or a Marine your road wasn't a fun one to travel. 'Bout as shitty a one as most Baby Boomers walked. Unless, of course, you were maimed or killed, then it was more or less a one way or a dead end. But for the bulk of us it was only a year long misery with a hole or two in your body. A year done, you got on the bird and went home to deal with your ghosts. Coulda been worse, a whole lot worse, for someone as relatively lucky as I was.
On the other hand the ARVNs weren't so lucky. When the domino tumbled there was no freedom flight warmin' up its engines for them. They were screwed 'cause they'd bet on the wrong horse. Someday should you passing an aging Vietnamese on the street and ask them how the '70s were.
Then there was the NVA. The war over, they hobbled home, if they could, to a country that was bombed all to hell. Back to scroungin' out their next meal in a land where nothin' was certain. Or maybe they stayed in the Army and went after Hmongs or Cambodians just so they could keep their killin' honed to a fine edge.
And then there were all the women and children who endured the bombin', agent orangin', bein' relocated, raped and a ton of other shit I don't have a clue about.
The Hmongs fought on our side with the guarantee we wouldn't abandon them. Then we abandoned them. Years of being hunted down and killed by the North Vietnamese followed. Some finally made it to the USA after a half dozen or more years of running, hiding, dying and at the end, refugee camps. Once in America, they were treated like there was no reason for them to be here.
A third of all Cambodians died in the Killing Fields where dead bodies helped fill the vacuum we left behind.
Seems like all of the things we fought to prevent were only made worse. But considering what we left behind I thank my lucky stars, God, whatever, that I went home to what passes on this planet for heaven. In short, it coulda been worse. A lot worse.
