years apart

Shortly after my mom died, I became aware of that great time in American history - the years of Viet Nam. I heard about toxic waste and agent orange, nuclear weapons, world destruction, and the atrocities committed by too many. I find it curious now, when people feel 'we must go to war to protect ourselves', that they do not refer to Viet Nam - it wasn't a real war, was it? Or mention the Korean Conflict. Instead they mention World War 2, and HItler. And they don't mention how long America waited to get involved while a madman ran amuck - it took Pearl Harbor, and that is even questionable. Some sources claim information on the attack was known, but ignored. Now - they claim we must fight a Hitler-wanna-be.

It's America for you.... One war, we don't act to protect or defend those being destroyed, until it is in our face. The next war, we don't 'really' have a war, it is a police action or conflict. As if, again, words change the reality. In the Gulf War and Desert Storm, America claims a victory, at the cost of so many civilians. How much ammunition did we discharge? What is depleted uranium? The attack on New York, Sept. 11, did not surprise me -- I lived with the thought of nuclear chaos since I was 10. What surprised me is, we have not yet demolished the planet! There is still hope then...

People say, "There has always been wars." I say, "It hasn't worked so well either, so maybe it is time to change it." And never before have we had the massive stockpiles of every deadly means to destroy the world -- if nuclear weapons are too evil for you, then we have plenty of chemical and biological ones to use. Last I heard, we could destroy life on earth 10 times over - this seems a little like 'overkill' - once should be enough. So why aren't we then putting our time and resources into bettering life, instead of new ways to destroy it? You see - I am simple-minded.

Before my first child was born, I wrote a short piece (really - it was about 50 words) on having a son that was sent to war - to kill or be killed, to maim or be maimed; how I could not understand why I should then be proud of this, when it is such a waste. I have it here somewhere, but locating a scrap of paper that is 25 years old is a challenge. :)

And I think there may be one place I have not looked... You see, I sent a copy of it twenty years later to Eric. I have a lot of our letters to each other, but I'm not sure I want to go through them again...

Let me tell you about Eric, and why this short piece with all its emotions connected us. Eric. Wow... I met him when he was hitch-hiking and I gave him a ride. We began writing to each other, sharing lives and cares. He was Vietnam vet, sent over at age 17 on the new plan to gain enlisted men - instead of drafting them, our country offered 'career choices' when a minor law infraction could lead to jail time. When I met him, he was alone, homeless, jobless. He had a small handout from the government and a degenerative back injury that prevented working. And he had nightmares. Over time, he trusted me enough to share some of this, even though he also feared I would hate him for it.

I understood the insanity - when you are in an insane situation, you have to become insane to survive. Things a person would never be capable of otherwise become possible - this is why we train soldiers to kill. Emotions have to be frozen, or the horror can drive a person to permanent insanity. Instead it is a hate/fear driving force.... and a necklace worn proudly of 23 enemy ears. It's firing on women and children because they are also caught in this, and they have a gun.

Which is worse - to die in combat, or come home to regain your sanity? Eric came home, and emotionally shut down. He couldn't live peacefully with the knowledge of the horror his own hands had wrought. Kill? He could kill as easily as we change clothes if provoked. But to live with himself... As his back worsened and he was forced from working, the nightmares began to chase him, the demons in his own head. These he could not kill, the faces he had seen dying, the crippling sorrow of families. When he did sleep, it was often 'living hell' again for him. Physical and emotional pain I have never seen greater in any human. Hate him? No.... this man became my hero.

Maybe I hate war - but I do not hate the men that are sent, I hate the consequences they are forced to live with. How does a war vet become a hero to 'just me'? A homeless, jobless man, wracked with pain on all sides, without family? Easy - whatever I gave to him, he gave me back ten times over. It wasn't an easy relationship, far from it. But no man has ever loved me as completely or would do more for me than this man. He didn't want me to see him in pain, and he would leave when it got agonizing. Pain? The doctors were talking of a morphine pump implanted in his spine. Pain? Nightmares, horror, unbearable guilt. Fear of dying, fear of living, knowing by age 40 he had no hope of a 'normal life', no matter how long he lived.

He was the gentlest man I have ever known, though I knew the other side existed within him. Sure... Man of Stone meets little old me. He didn't have a chance, nothing had prepared him on how to stay emotionally blocked in this house! :) I knew he was changed the night we watched the Walt Disney movie 'Babe'. The two-year old granddaughter was brushing his hair and clipping in barrettes (he looked a lot like Jesus, only more haunted) when... the duck on the show died; three generations of females were in tears. He was dumbfounded, totally at a loss - how does a man of stone take this? He melted more and more as the days passed; he couldn't stay emotionally empty when a two-year old hugged him and said, "I love you."

He sold plasma when he shouldn't have - to buy me a pearl necklace. It's a small string, light and airy, of 20 small pearls. He wanted to give me this. That is all. But he had just been diagnosed and treated for skin cancer. Before he found out the test results, he threw his small hand gun in Lake Superior, afraid the temptation to end his own life would one day be too great. Soon the doctors burned spots all over his chest and back, and cut a strip a foot long down his spine to prevent the spread of this cancer. He thought I must find him hideous.... but he was just my polka-dot man, and how could he be other than beautiful to me?

I think somehow he found a little peace during this time. I didn't expect him to live long with the pain he had, and if he had chose to end his own life, I would not have judged him. Truth, I would have helped him through this if he had asked it of me. We had talked of religion and God, of universal love and forgiveness, of being at peace. We even argued over this at times. :) He needed to come to terms with himself in order to let go of this life.

When the doctors changed to a new prescription, he treated it like he had the old ones, the ones he had to take too many of to even begin to ease the pain. He was visiting a friend then, and did not wake up the next day. It tore me up, but I knew he was finally at peace, and how could I ever ask him to stay here? For what? For me? No, he is in a better place. I believe he still visits me, just doesn't argue so much now. :) It's been two years...

Eric - peace to you, my friend, love you.

Leo Tolstoy: "War is so unjust and ugly that all who wage it must try to stifle the voice of conscience within themselves."

Now I share his story.... You see, war does more harm than simply taking lives. It destroys people while they are still alive. And to send more men to fight again, to bring home this hell to live with -- who wins? I see no glory, no victory, only needless pain and suffering whenever conflicts start. Of course... it is someone's son or daughter, someone's brother/sister, someone's parent, someone's friend. Call it civilian casualty, a calculated loss, a numbers game - but it is people. People on both sides hurting. When will the world understand this?

If you wish to know what other Vietnam vets think about some of these issues, visit the site below. Truly, I am glad Eric did not live long enough to see New York 9/11, or know about the current affairs in progress. It would have hurt him too much.

www.prairienet.org/vvaw

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