Dear America: Letters Home from Vietnam (1987)

[bunniefuu]

Hey, it's 104 degrees,

(40C)

and if that doesn't wipe you out,

a jammed w*apon will.

Remember, guys, keep it clean

and keep your head low.

"Hi, Mom. Well,

I'm fine today.

And I hope that you're

in good shape also.

Today I am swimming,

washing and taking in the sun.

The beach is great.

The sand is white

and the sky is clear.

Boy, I wish every day

was like this,

then I wouldn't have

any problems while I'm here."

American casualties

in Vietnam,

k*lled and wounded

now exceed 300,000.

More than 39,000 k*lled

and more than 258,000 wounded.

"Dear folks, this is your

on-the-spot correspondent

in the Big 'Nam reporting.'

"Hi, honey, I had

a hell of a day yesterday."

"Dear Sue, thank you

for the wingtips.

Only one question:

Where do I wear them in Vietnam?"

"Darling, I am sitting down

to write of my love for you

and the horrors of w*r."

"Actually, I'm writing because I have

to, or go out of my mind.

Things happen over here

you just can't..."

"Mom, I appreciate

all of your letters.

For a while as I read your letters,

I'm a normal person.

I'm not k*lling people

or worried about being k*lled."

"Darling, believe me, I try not

to skip a day in writing you.

Whether or not I get a letter determines

if it's a good day or not."

This is London...

Switzerland calling...

...South America...

And here is the news.

Three Communist P.T. boats

att*cked an American destroyer

off the coast of Vietnam

yesterday.

And today, President Johnson's

response was hard and tough.

He has ordered the U.S. Navy

to continue patrolling there,

and if they are att*cked

to destroy their attackers.

To any armed att*ck

upon our forces

we shall reply.

To any in Southeast Asia

who ask our help

in defending their freedom,

we shall give it.

You can't win in Asia.

So I am not going to go along

with this kind of a program

in South Vietnam,

at least with my vote,

that in my judgment is going

to k*ll needlessly

untold numbers of American boys,

and for nothing.

"Dear Dad, well, here it is.

We've been told that our whole company

will be shipping out to Vietnam

after advanced infantry

training.

Our company commander and our

battalion and brigade commanders

told us there's no sense in trying

to fool ourselves, we're going for sure.

The only thing

that makes me mad

is how do they expect you

to tell your parents."

"I don't mind going, but there are some

guys here who just won't make it.

And I don't think

they'll make it out alive.

Your son, Bob.

P.S., tell Mom not to worry.

It's nothing I can't handle."

All right, settle down,

settle down.

"Dear Uncle and Aunt,

some people wonder why

Americans are in Vietnam.

The way I see the situation,

I would rather fight and stop

Communists in South Vietnam

than in Kincaid, Humboldt,

Blue Mound or Kansas City.

And that's just about

what it would end up being.

The price for victory is high

when life cannot be replaced.

But I think it is far better

to fight and die for freedom,

than to live under

oppression and fear.

Your nephew, Jack."

- What state are you from?

- Charlotte, North Carolina, sir.

North Carolina?

Charlotte, yeah,

- I know it well. Good luck to you, lad.

- Thank you, sir.

"Dear John, well,

in 360 days I'll be home.

Try not to worry

too much about me.

I know that will be

difficult,

but it doesn't do anyone

any good.

Love, Bobby."

"Chris, I finally got

to my unit yesterday.

Our mission is to find V.C.

and k*ll them.

I should be operating like this

for the next two months

before I get a chance

to take a shower and sleep in a bed.

What a life.

There are absolutely

no comforts in our job.

I carry nothing but a razor

and a bar of soap for comfort.

We wear the only clothes

we have

and wash them in rivers

and streams as we cross them.

You were right.

I managed to get myself

right in the middle of it all."

"Dear Tom, hi, how are you?

I hope all is well at home.

Everything's okay here.

My whole squad is

all a bunch of screwballs.

Eddie's running around

with an insect b*mb

cursing the bugs.

The mosquitoes that come out

at night are man-eaters,

but the insect repellent

keeps them off.

It's safe in the daytime. We stand out

in the open or work on the bunker.

We can run up and down

the hill with no worries.

But at night we've got to stay

in the bunkers, as sn*pers sneak in.

Dennis."

"P.S., send some Kool-Aid.

The water here

tastes like sh*t."

I think I got

a booby trap here.

Roger Whiskey,

I have a booby trap...

trip wire tied

onto a branch,

grenade on the end of the trip wire.

Spoon is out.

"Dear Mom and Dad, the way

we move without contact

I begin to wonder

if the V.C. are even out there.

All the time

you know they are.

The great frustration is

that they don't come out and fight."

Be careful now!

Watch yourself.

"Dear Red, anyone

over here who walks

more than 50 feet

through elephant grass

should automatically

get a Purple Heart.

Try to imagine grass

possessing razor-sharp edges

eight to 15' high, so thick

as to cut visibility to one yard.

Then try to imagine

walking through it

while all around you are men possessing

the latest a*t*matic weapons

who desperately want

to k*ll you.

You'd be amazed at how much

a man can age on one patrol."

"We're all scared.

One can easily see this emotion

in the eyes of each individual.

One might hide it

with his mouth,

while another might hide it

with his actions.

But there is no way

around it.

We are all scared."

Look up in the tree!

Look up in the tree!

Aw, sh*t!

He's over there!

I'll get you,

son of a bitch!

Go!

"My dearest Bev,

for the last week we've been waiting

for an att*ck,

and finally it came

in full force.

Honey, I was never so scared

in my whole life.

We got hit by 12 mortars

and rockets.

A mortar landed

about 30' from me.

And I was lucky enough

to have my head down.

But the sergeant

next to me didn't,

and I think

he lost an eye."

I've been hit!

Ahhh, I've been hit!

"This was my first

real look at w*r.

And it sure was

an ugly sight.

I helped carry

some of the wounded away.

And, boy, I sure hope

I don't have to do that again.

It was an experience you can never

explain in a million words."

I've got a lot of pain

in that left ankle.

That's a good sign.

It's that sharp pain you get

when you've got nerves, you know?

It's that sharp nerve pain,

burning, burning.

They're gonna do

all they can to save that leg.

I know.

I know there's not much left

because I was carrying

that damn thing in my hands

all the way back.

I was afraid the whole thing

was gonna come off.

I said, "Hell, they can't be

right around in here."

So, I didn't call bombs

and nap in on these people.

- Mm-hmm.

- But that's where they were.

I'm sure now that

that's where they were.

God damn it, I...

I hate to put nap...

and...

and on these women

and children.

I just didn't do it.

I just said, "They can't be there."

"Dear Vern,

I talked to Danny,

the man who lost his leg

this morning.

He's a mean bastard.

I've never seen such

bravery and guts before,

and I'm stunned by it.

You should have seen

my men fight.

They were going after wounded men

no one else'd go after.

You should have seen

my brave men.

It'd give you

goose-pimples."

This is Cam Ranh Bay

on the South China Sea.

It is said to be one of the finest

natural harbors in the world.

It will in time be

the chief port of entry

for American men

and materiel in Vietnam.

It is taking on

a look of permanence.

And the activity going on

all around

suggests that

we have recognized

there is not going to be

an easy, painless

or quick way

out of this struggle.

And so, during the past year

our m*llitary forces

have grown from 25,000

to nearly 200,000 men.

The possibility of 300,000 men

here by spring

is now considered likely.

"Dear folks, car, bird,

house, et cetera,

new jungle fatigues,

boots, cooling fans,

typewriters, napkins,

silverware,

grass seeds,

all trickle into supply

and are dispersed

as needed.

Jeez, you know,

this is an 'in' w*r,

one of the hippest things

in this whole world.

I've read where officers

were quoted as saying,

'This is the only w*r

we've got.

Don't knock it.'

This w*r is not going to end

by any one single battle

or combination of battles.

It could be a situation

that could drag out for some time.

Certainly, as the w*r gets

more intense...

and I feel that it will

in coming the months...

we will suffer

more American casualties.

"Dearest Bev,

last night we had the V.C.

all around us.

Bev, don't ever tell

Mother this,

but at times I feel

I will never come home.

The V.C. are getting

much stronger.

So I think this w*r is going to get

worse before it gets better.

The days

are fairly peaceful.

But the nights

are pure hell.

I look up at the stars

and it's so hard to believe

that the same stars shine over you

in such a different world

as you live in.

All my love, Al."

"Hello, dear folks.

It's going to be hard

for me to write this,

but maybe it will make me

feel better.

Yesterday

my company was hit

while looking for V.C.

They told me that they needed

someone to identify a boy

they'd just brought in.

It was very bad they said.

So I went into the tent

and there on the table

was the boy.

His face was all cut up

and blood all over it.

His mouth was open.

His eyes were both open.

It was a mess.

I couldn't really

identify him.

So I went outside

while they went through

his stuff.

They found his I.D. card

and dog tags.

I went in and they told me

his name...

Rankin."

"I cried, 'No, God,

it can't be.'

But sure enough,

after looking

at his bloody face again,

I could see it was him.

It really hit me hard

because he was one

of the nicest guys around.

He was

one of my good friends.

No other K.I.A. or W.I.A.

hit me like that.

I knew most of them,

but this was the first body

I ever saw.

And being my friend,

it was too much.

After I left the place

I sat down and cried.

I couldn't stop it.

I didn't think I ever cried

so much in my life.

I can still see

his face now.

I'll never forget it.

Today the heavens

cried for him.

It started raining

at noon today

and has now

finally just stopped

after 10 hours of the hardest rain

I've ever seen.

Love, Richard."

What we've just seen,

men fighting for their lives

in the jungles

of South Vietnam,

is what has aroused

such apprehension and debate

throughout the world.

w*r is brutal,

and the reaction to it is strong.

This week hundreds of people

demonstrated against it.

Others have voiced

their concern by question and dissent.

Public opinion polls

indicate

that the dissenters are

in the minority,

but their number

is growing,

and they are starting

to take more positive actions.

On Saturday,

a march to show solidarity

with American servicemen

in Vietnam was held in New York City.

The marchers carried

American flags.

Flags were hung

from apartment house windows.

Against this background

the battle continues,

and in it this week,

274 Americans were k*lled,

1,748 wounded,

18 listed as missing.

There's no end to the w*r

in sight.

"Dear Ma,

Vietnam has my feelings

on a seesaw.

This country is

so beautiful.

When the sun is shining

on the mountains,

farmers in their rice paddies

with their water buffalo,

and palm trees,

monkeys, birds,

and even

the strange insects,

for a fleeting moment

I'm not in a w*r zone at all,

just on vacation.

But still missing you

and the family.

There are a few kids

who hang around,

some with no parents.

I feel so sorry

for them.

I do things to make them laugh,

and they call me 'dinky dau.'

That means crazy."

- Okay!

- Okay!

"I hope that's one reason

why we're here,

to secure

a future for them.

Your son, George."

"Dear Mom and Dad,

you know that joke about

how hard it is to tell

the good guys

from the bad guys over here?

Well, it's funny in Bronxville

or Dorset, but it isn't over here.

The enemy in our area

of operation

is a farmer by day

and V.C. by night.

Every man we pick up says,

'Me Vietnamese number one.

V.C. number 10.'

So we have to let him go.

By the way,

number one means real good,

and number 10

means real bad.

Other handy phrases are:

'titi,' very little;,

'boo koo,'

which means very much;

'didi mow,'

get out of here.

What more do you need

to know?"

Didi mow.

Go, go.

"Love always, Mike."

Roger.

1st Battalion's coming in.

All right!

Come on, get out of here.

Come on, get up!

"Dear Red,

the frightening thing

about it all

is that it's so very easy

to k*ll in w*r.

There's no remorse,

no theatrical washing of the hands

to get rid of non-existent blood,

not even any regrets.

Get k*lled because

that little son of a bitch

is doing his best

to k*ll you?

When it happens you're more afraid

than you've ever been in your life.

And you desperately

want to live

to go home,

to get drunk,

or walk down the street

on a date again."

"Dear Mom and Dad,

1st Cavalry moved in here

a few weeks ago,

and what a rowdy bunch.

These guys have been out

in the mud in the boonies for months.

They just wandered around

staring at everything,

trying out all

the chairs,

flushing the toilets.

It was funny to watch."

"But I guess when you've had

to do without clean clothes,

good food and shelter

for as long as they have

you might believe

your eyes either.

Oh, God, it must be awful

for them out there.

Love always, me."

"Dear Mom and Dad,

and everyone...

oh, I had my first baptizing

with Saigon tea."

"This is the usual approach

of a bar hog.

You walk in and sit down

at the bar.

Before you get to order a drink,

a girl will be sitting next to you

and she'll begin with...

'Hello, what is your name?

Would you like a drink?'

You order one.

Then she'll say,

'I've not see you here before.

You're very handsome.

You look young.

How old are you?'

They usually like you to be 21 and 23,

but I tell them 19.

Then they say,

'You baby-san!'

Which means, 'Have you ever been

to bed with a woman?"'

"A baby-san's a virgin.

Ha, come on!"

I wish I could report to you

that the conflict is

almost over.

This I cannot do.

We face more costs,

more loss,

and more agony,

for the end is not yet.

I cannot promise you

that it will come this year...

or come next year.

Our adversary still believes,

I think, tonight

that he can go on fighting

longer than we can,

and longer than we

and our allies

will be prepared to stand up

and resist.

Roger. If they come up

to where you are,

I'll be going at them

in the same direction.

I want to try

to flank them.

That's why I'm asking

what direction you're f*ring in.

It sounds to me like

you're f*ring east. Over.

This is Elmo, did not copy.

Repeat, over.

What direction

are you f*ring in?

- Come in on the other flank. Over.

- That's affirmative.

You can fire that way.

Negative! Don't fire any way.

We're surrounded by friendlies.

Return incoming fire

from there!

- Returning fire, sir!

- What did he say?

Escort platoon, they're trying

to overrun these woods.

"Dear Madeline,

it's good to have someone

to tell your troubles to.

I can't tell them to my parents

or Darlene 'cause they worry too much,

but I tell you truthfully

I doubt if I'll come out of this alive.

In my original squad

I'm the only one left unharmed."

"In my platoon there's

only 13 of us.

It seems every day another young guy,

18 or 19 years old

like myself,

is k*lled in action.

Please, help me, Mad.

I don't know if I should stop

writing my parents and Darlene or what."

Come on!

"Oh, and one more favor,

I'd like the truth now.

Has Darlene been

faithful to me?

I know she's dating

other guys,

but does she still

love me best?

See if it's God's will.

I have to make it out

of Vietnam though,

because I'm lucky.

I hope.

Ha ha.

Love, Ray."

Okay, watch out.

Okay, up!

I've got it.

"Dear Doug,

we were cut off

from our base

and requested a helicopter

evacuation with a priority.

We were

all in sad shape now.

I know that at one point,

my feet about to cr*ck open,

my stomach knotted by hunger

and diarrhea,

my back feeling like a mirror made

of nerves shattered in a million pieces

by my flack jacket pack, and extra

mortars and machine-g*n a*mo...

my hands a mass of hamburger

from thorn cuts,

and my face a mass of welts

from mosquitoes,

I desired greatly

to throw down everything and sob.

I remember a captain,

an aviator, who observing

a group of grunts

toasting the infantry

in a bar said,

'You damned infantry think

you're the only people who exist.'

You're damned right

we do."

- How many men did you have?

- Ten, sir.

- How many came out of the battle?

- Four, sir.

- Four. Rest of them k*lled or wounded?

- One k*lled.

One k*lled, rest wounded. Some of the

wounded will be back for duty, I assume?

Yes, sir. We got them all out.

All of them came back.

- Uh-huh. All your weapons too?

- Yes, sir.

What were

you doing, lad?

Sir, I was a medic

on a point.

- Mm-hmm. Think you saved some lives?

- Yes, sir.

"September 1967.

David, morale's very high

in spite of the fact that most men think

the w*r's being run incorrectly.

One of the staggering facts

is that most men here believe

we will not win the w*r,

and yet they stick

their necks out every day,

and carry on as if

they were fighting

for the continental security

of the United States."

Were you men in the battle? I know you

were, weren't you, Fitzgerald?

- Yes, sir.

- What did you do?

What did I do? I ran around and sh*t

just like everybody else.

What did you sh**t?

What type of w*apon?

- I'm on an M-60, sir.

- An M-60.

"We were taking

a fierce b*ating over here.

They don't have

enough men.

We must have more men.

At least twice as many,

or we are gonna get

the piss kicked out of us this winter

when the rains come."

Ever since Hill 80-81 and 86-20

you feel something

in the air...

uh, about the build-up.

I don't know. You can almost feel them

working around you at night.

"Dear Ellen,

we really have been preparing

for this all-out offensive by the gooks.

I guess you might have read

about it in the papers.

There's supposed

to be a truce in Vietnam

during the Chinese

Tet New Year.

Khe Sanh is the only area

not observing it

because of the build-up.

I'll try to write again soon.

Love, Jim."

Incoming!

"Dear Mom and Dad,

I guess by now you're

worried sick over my safety.

Khe Sanh village

was overrun,

but not the combat base.

The base was hit and hit hard

by a*tillery, mortars and rockets.

All my gear and the rest

of the company's gear was destroyed.

I am unhurt

and have not been touched.

But with all the death

and destruction I've seen

in the past week

I've aged greatly.

I feel like an old man now.

I've seen enough of w*r

and its destruction.

I'm scared by it,

but not scared enough to quit.

I'm a Marine and I hope someday

to be a good one.

Please pray for us all

here at Khe Sanh.

Your son and Marine,

Kevin."

It's Tet,

the Oriental New Year,

and it's a new w*r.

The Vietcong

simultaneously att*cked

just about every major city

and town in South Vietnam.

In one day, they'd increased

the scope of the w*r dramatically.

Howard Tuckner was there.

The w*r came to Saigon

early in the morning

of January 31st.

The first target was the symbol

of the American presence in Vietnam,

the United States embassy.

About 20 Vietcong had

invaded the embassy compound

and were now battling American

Marines and m*llitary police.

There are two men

over in that direction.

The Vietcong had

penetrated to the center

of what was supposed to be

the most secure city in Vietnam.

What's the hardest part of it?

Trying to know where they are,

that's the worst.

Riding around, they run in the sewers,

in the gutters, anywhere.

They can be anywhere. Just hope you

can stay alive from day to day.

Everybody just wants

to go back home and go to school.

- That's about it.

- Have you lost any friends?

Quite a few.

We lost one the other day.

The whole thing just stinks,

really.

Awful of sick it.

I'll be so glad to go home.

I don't know.

This is the worst area we've been in

since I've been

in Vietnam.

Do you think

it's worth it?

Yeah...

I don't know.

They say we're fighting

for something. I don't know.

General, there's a lot

speculation on the Hill

that ultimately we may have to use

nuclear weapons.

What can you say

on that subject?

I do not think that nuclear weapons

will be required

to defend Khe Sanh.

Incoming!

Marines just sitting here

taking it like dopes.

Yeah,

that's what gets me.

That's not they way

we're supposed to...

We're supposed to be

hard chargers.

We're supposed to

go out and get them.

If they pulled a good search

and destroy, we could clear them away.

I don't know.

You get out there 50',

you're lost already

in the jungle.

It looks pretty clear

from here, but...

It's just a constant siege

here.

And you don't know exactly

when the incoming's coming.

And you don't know how much

it's gonna be from day to day.

And...

How would you compare it to other places

that you've served in Vietnam?

Well, this is the worst

I've been at.

Most of the time

you can't get anything done

because there's

too much incoming.

You can't get out

much at all.

It's just too dangerous

to get out.

And, um...

it just gets on your nerves,

that's all.

Either that, or just have the B-52s

go up one side, back.

The only thing they hit

is the ground.

"Dear Dad and Mom,

well, they haven't

gotten me yet.

I'm sitting here

in my new bunker underground

with many sandbags and metal skids

between me and the surface.

But the men and I will be

all right no matter what comes.

We are all well

and morale is high.

You know I've never really

regretted coming over here,

even yesterday

when my favorite turd got it,

the little guy with

my platoon sergeant's radiomen.

I really loved the kid.

He was the hardest

little worker,

and never complained.

Do anything for you.

After they had

taken him away,

it almost kicked my ass,

as the saying goes.

I almost cracked."

Ready? Fire!

"But there are 75 others

to worry about

and I snapped myself out of my cheap

civilian bull and got back to work."

"You learn every day

the mistakes you're making

and the biggest one is to get too

attached to any one person.

Over here, at least.

Things happen so quickly. One minute

he's fine and the next he's not.

But old Don is pretty lucky.

Knock on wood.

And home I'll come,

I'm sure.

Maybe after we wipe

them up here

they'll go to the bargaining tables

and we can come home...

all of us.

Love, Don."

"Dear Aunt Fanny,

this morning one of my men

turned to me

and pointed a hand

filled with cuts and scratches

at a plant

with soft red flowers,

and said,

'That's the first plant I've seen today

that didn't have thorns

on it.'

The plant was also

representative of Vietnam.

It is a country

of thorns and cuts,

of g*ns and marauding,

of little hope and of great faith.

Yet in the midst of it all,

a beautiful thought,

a gesture and even person

can arise among it

waving bravely at the debt

that pulls down upon it.

Someday this place will be

b*rned by napalm,

and the red flower will crackle up

and die among the thorns.

Yet that flower

will always live

in the memory of a tired

wet Marine.

With American sons

in the field far away,

I shall not seek...

and I will not accept

the nomination of my party

for another term

as your president.

What happened

to you?

Oh, I got kind of

messed up.

My unit was dropping...

caught some, uh...

well, I don't...

exactly, I don't know

if it was a fire base.

They was always sh**ting.

And then I was out

pulling guard.

And some hot rounds

got too hot.

And they started

getting close.

The next thing I know,

I couldn't hear out of this ear.

They kind of blowed it out. Next thing

I know, I was catching shrap metal.

And then that was it.

Then they started evacuating me out.

This is my fifth hospital

they put me in.

I don't know if they're

gonna send me home or what.

I sure hope they do 'cause I've had it.

I don't want no more Vietnam.

"Dear Mom and Dad,

Peach and Fuzzy,

as I suppose you can see

by my new stationery

this is not

my normal letter.

While walking

down the road one day

in the merry, merry month

of September

my squad got into a hell of a fray

and lost one member.

Mm-hmm. Me.

I'm all right.

I am all right, I'm all right!

Carbine round hit me

where it would do the most good,

right in the butt.

It hit no bone,

blood vessels, nerves

or anything else of importance.

Except my pride.

It was, however,

a little bit closer to my pecker

than was comfortable,

but that's as good as ever.

Although, it's now going through

a year's hibernation."

"So I'm lying in bed here

and it comes time for

that most thrilling event

when the general gives out

the Purple Hearts.

All in all, it was a dreadful

performance by everyone.

But in a way,

a classic stereotype,

one of the large number

of stereotyped characters

and situations I have watched

acted out, much to my growing concern.

They finally left me

sicker than I was before,

and with a medal

I never wanted anyway.

Love, Sandy."

"Dear Mom, it's official.

Would you believe

a Silver Star?

But I'm no hero.

Heroes are for the late show.

I was just trying to help a couple

of guys who needed help.

That's all.

The heroes over here

are the guys trying to do their job

and get home

from this useless w*r.

Love, Phil."

"Dear Dad,

I've been listening to the Vietnam

radio's news report special

on the assassination

of Martin Luther King in Memphis."

"But now I have

a story to tell.

On Friday March 29

in our A.O. just south of Hue,

we received small arms fire

from a village."

"My platoon leader Gary Scott

and one other man were k*lled.

I was very close

to Lieutenant Scott.

I was his radio operator.

He was a fine man,

a good leader.

Yet he could not

understand

the whys of this conflict

which k*lled him."

Ready!

Aim!

Fire!

"They will say he d*ed

for his country,

keeping it free."

"Negative."

"This country has no gain

that I can see, Dad.

We're fighting, dying for a people

who resent our being over here.

Oh, I'll probably get

a Bronze Star

for the firefight.

Lieutenant Scott will get

a Silver Star.

That will help me get

a job someday,

and it is supposed to suffice

for Lieutenant Scott's life.

I guess

I'm bitter now, Dad.

This w*r is all wrong.

Your loving son, Phil."

"Debbie, my dear honeycake,

my health

is much better now.

The more I dream of the love

we have shared,

the more I love you.

These dreams make feel

as if I'm still with you.

Please keep a full and complete diary

so we can reminisce.

Debbie, I'll surely have

much love and lots of joy

with you in our future.

I'll remember your youthful

and lovely face always.

Please pray for me,

Debbie.

Alan."

"Merry Christmas,

my darling.

Indeed for me

a very Merry Christmas this year.

My values have changed

over these many long years.

I've searched

very carefully

for lasting happiness,

for what life

really means to me,

and I found it.

I found it in a family

in a home,

the dream home we'll soon

build together.

I found it in the beautiful New England

that I love so well,

that I miss so much.

But most of all, Debbie,

I found it in you."

"Dear Mom,

well, I'm spending

Christmas Eve

in good old bunker 110.

I've got

guard duty again.

I always wondered what it

must be like to be at w*r

and far away from home

on Christmas.

Now I know.

I can imagine how Pop felt

during World w*r ll.

Love and kisses,

Ray."

Vietnam, this is where it's at.

It's what's happening,

or to put it another way,

who needs it?

"Dear Mom and Dad,

on Christmas

the whole company was loaded

onto a two and a half ton truck

and carted off to Bien Hoa

to see Bob Hope.

Imagine! I've looked

at Bob Hope for years

entertaining the troops,

and never once thought

that he'd someday

be entertaining me!"

This is Miss World,

from India.

- He missed his cue.

- This is Miss World from India.

How.

"Dear family,

Christmas out there

was really something.

At midnight

on Christmas Eve,

the mortars

and tracks and tanks

and all of the

1st Cavalry a*tillery

sent up an absolutely

thunderous barrage

of high-altitude

flares.

It was quite a show.

I believe few people

have seen fireworks like these.

Then, when all had

quieted down

and the flares

had gone out,

the whole area calmed and hushed

and we could just hear

one of the fire bases

start singing

'Silent Night.'

Then it was picked up

by the other positions

around us and by everyone.

It echoed through

the valley for a long time

and d*ed out slowly.

I'm positive

it has seldom been sung

with more gut-feeling

and pure homesick emotion...

a strange

and beautiful thing

in this terribly

death-ridden land.

It is something

I will always remember.

Love, Peter."

For the average frontline

infantry soldier in Vietnam,

w*r is a bore,

interrupted only

by moments of sheer terror

when men die.

Contact with the enemy

seems to be more infrequent

than ever before.

The soldiers like that.

They sense,

rightly or not,

that the w*r

is almost over.

I'd rather go out myself

and not find anything...

come back in

empty-handed.

Why is that?

The object of the w*r

is usually to find

people and k*ll 'em.

Yeah, but that's not my...

I just don't care

too much about that.

"Dear Tom,

about morale?

Americans do have

many things to be proud of.

Among these is the ability to create

a means of survival

in an absurd situation.

Because the tour here

is one year long,

you're able to count

the days until 'DEROS'...

'Date Eligible

to Return from Overseas.'

You're able to say

'This time next year,

I will be home.'

After careful consideration

with my senior civilian

and m*llitary advisors,

and in full consultation

with the government of Vietnam,

I have decided to reduce

the authorized troop

ceiling in Vietnam

to 484,000 by December 15.

Defense Secretary

Melvin Laird

said the U.S.

3rd Marine Division

will be one of the units involved

in President Nixon's

most recent

redeployment order.

This afternoon,

the U.S. Command announced

departing units

will include:

supporting elements

of the 1st Marine Airwing

plus the 3rd Brigade

of the 82nd Airborne.

"Dear civilians, friends,

draft-dodgers, et cetera,

in the very near future,

the undersigned will

once more be in your midst,

dehydrated and demoralized

to take his place again

as a human being

with the well-known forms

of freedom and justice for all,

engage in life, liberty,

and the somewhat delayed

pursuit of happiness.

In making your

joyous preparations

to welcome him back

into organized society,

you might take

certain steps

to make allowances

for the past 12 months.

Abstain from saying anything

about powdered eggs,

dehydrated potatoes,

fried rice, fresh milk

or ice cream.

Do not be alarmed if he should jump up

from the dinner table

and rush to the garbage can

to wash his dish with a toilet brush.

Also, if it should

start raining,

pay no attention to him

if he pulls off his clothes,

grabs a bar of soap and a towel,

and runs outside for a shower.

Pretend not to notice if,

at a restaurant, he calls the waitress

'number one girl,'

and uses his hat

as an ashtray.

Be watchful if he is

in the presence of women,

especially

a beautiful woman.

Last, but not least,

send no more mail

to the A.P.O.,

fill the icebox with beer,

get the civvies out of the mothballs,

fill that car with gas

and get the women and children

off the street, baby,

because the kid

is coming home!"

Come to see me 'cause I will

be looking out for you.

- Yeah.

- I'll be lookin' for you.

- No sweat, man. Take it easy.

- Take care.

I feel that the 9th Marine...

they have been

doing a good job

for quite a while now.

It is about time

for them to go home,

but I would also like for

the rest of the men in Vietnam

to go home just as much

as the 9th Marines.

I would like to see

all this end.

My friend,

he would've, uh,

been pulled out

of the bush here

two days

after his death.

And it just seems

kind of a shame

that he d*ed needlessly.

Get down, come on.

"Hey, brother,

this place is sort of

getting to me.

I've been seeing

too many guys getting messed up

and I still can't

understand it.

It's not that I can't

understand this w*r.

It's just that I can't

understand w*r, period."

"You just sort of sit back

and ask yourself

'Why?

What the hell is this

going to prove?'

And, man, I'm still looking

for the answer."

"It's a real bitch."

"I just can't believe

half of the sh*t I've seen

here so far."

- How many bodies...

- How many did you see k*lled?

Myself, I saw

approximately 100 bodies... dead bodies.

That's a conservative

estimate now.

I know one group

specifically,

they had rounded up

about 20, maybe 30 people

and most of 'em were

women and children.

There might have been

a few old men in the group.

But they'd rounded them up

right over a ditch bank

and sh*t 'em all

with a machine-g*n

and left 'em in the ditch.

"Dear John,

the physical and human damage

done over the last few years

is much greater

than I realized,

not just the dead,

but the G.I.s who can't talk

in coherent sentences

anymore.

b*mb and a*tillery craters,

the ruined villages,

these things you can understand

as the byproduct of w*r.

But I can't accept the fact

of the human damage.

I feel like I'm at the bottom

of a great sewer."

"Dear Mrs. Perko,

what can I say to fill

the void?

I know flowers and letters

are appropriate,

but it's hardly enough.

I'm Johnny Boy.

And I'm sick both physically

and mentally.

I smoke too much.

I'm constantly coughing, never eat,

always sit around

in a daze.

All of us are

in this general condition.

We're all afraid to die,

and all we do is count

the days till we go home.

When we go to Saigon we spend

all our money on women and beer.

We're all in desperate need

of love."

"Some nights I don't sleep.

I can't stand being alone at night.

The g*ns don't bother me.

I can't hear them anymore.

I want to hold my head

between my hands,

run screaming away

from here."

"I'm hollow, Mrs. Perko.

I'm a shell.

When I'm scared I rattle.

I'm no one to tell you about your son.

I can't, I'm sorry.

Johnny Boy."

Come, say it.

"Hi all,

Christmas came and went...

marked only by tragedy.

Christmas morning

I got off duty

and opened

all my packages alone.

I missed you all so much.

I cried myself to sleep.

It"s ridiculous.

I seem to be crying

all the time lately.

I hate this place.

This is now

the seventh month

of death, destruction

and misery.

I'm tired of going

to sleep and listening

to outgoing and incoming

rockets,

mortars, a*tillery.

I'm sick

of facing every day

a new bunch of children

ripped to pieces.

They're just kids.

18, 19.

Their whole lives

ahead of them cut off.

I'm sick to death of it.

I've got to get

out of here.

Peace, Linda."

Kent State University

in Ohio has had campus v*olence

for three nights,

causing the National Guard

to be called in.

And today the guardsmen opened fire

on the students, k*lling four of them,

two young men

and two young women.

The National Guard was called in over

the weekend by Governor James Rhodes.

Today when 1500 students

started an antiwar rally

on the commons,

the guardsmen

surrounded them.

Then when some students

started throwing rocks,

the guard moved in

with tear-gas.

"Dear Editor...

This letter is

from the men

who daily risk their lives

in Vietnam.

In regards to the recent killings

at Kent State University,

we are... we are sorrowful

and mourn the dead.

But it grieves us no end

and sh**t pain into our hearts

is that the, quote,

biggest upset is over

the kids who got k*lled

at Kent State, unquote!

So why don't your hearts

cry out and shed a tear

for the 40-plus thousand

red-blooded Americans

and brave, fearless,

loyal men

who have

given their lives?

During my past 18 months

in hell,

I've held my friends during

their last gasping seconds

before they succumbed

to death.

Do not judge us wrongly.

We are not pleading

for your praise.

All we ask is

for our great nation to support us,

to help us end the w*r.

Damn it!

Save our lives."

At Clark Air Force Base

in the Philippines

there were no speeches,

no bands, no bunting.

Homecoming was gentle.

The first man off was

Captain Jeremiah Denton,

a man who had been

in prison so long

his own teenage son

had grown up,

gone to Vietnam himself,

served and gone home again.

And only now was his father

coming home

after eight years.

We are honored

to have had

the opportunity

to serve our country

under difficult

circumstances.

We are profoundly grateful

to our Commander-in-Chief

and to our nation

for this day.

- God bless America.

- God bless America.

"Dear Bill,

I came to this

black wall again

to see

and touch your name:

William R. Stocks.

And as I do,

I wonder if anyone ever

stops to realize

that next to your name

on this black wall

is your mother's heart...

a heart broken

15 years ago today

when you lost your life

in Vietnam.

And as I look

at your name,

I think of how many, many times

I used to wonder

how scared and homesick

you must have been

in that strange country

called Vietnam.

And if and how

it might have changed you,

for you were the most

happy-go-lucky kid in the world,

hardly ever sad

or unhappy.

And until the day I die,

I will see you

as you laughed at me

even when I was

very mad at you,

and the next thing I knew

we were laughing together.

But on this past

New Year's Day,

I talked by phone to a friend of yours

from Michigan

who spent

your last Christmas

and the last four months

of your life with you.

Jim told me how you d*ed,

for he was there

and saw

the helicopter crash.

He told me how your jobs

were like sitting ducks.

They would send you men out

to draw the enemy into the open

and then they would send in

the big g*ns

and planes to take over.

He told me how after a while

over there

instead of a yellow streak,

the men got a mean streak

down their backs.

Each day

the streak got bigger

and the men became meaner.

Everyone but you, Bill.

He said you how stayed the same

happy-go-lucky guy

that you were

when you arrived in Vietnam.

And he said how

you of all people

should have never been

the one to die.

How lucky you were

to have him for a friend.

And how lucky he was

to have had you.

They tell me the letters I write to you

and leave here at this memorial

are waking others up

to the fact

that there is still

much pain left

from the Vietnam w*r.

But this I know,

I would rather to have had

you for 21 years

and all the pain

that goes with losing you

then never to have had you

at all.

Mom."