Wish I were there, MAYBE.

When I was a kid the neighborhood gangs would play "war" with sticks for guns. I loved it and could play till dark any day. I thought of being in the army some day because I had played so much "war" that I had to be good at it.

War didn't seem a serious thing because the only real war to me was the WWII and it had been glorified so much by my uncles and dad. It was like being a part of the boy scouts.


Veterans Day seems to take on more and more for me each year. My Uncles were all in WWII and my dad was there too. My dad would tell me stories when I was growing up and we would watch War Stories on TV together. It was bigger than life for me but... then I went to high school and began to hear of VietNam or just plain "Nam", stories became bad dreams of my friends who had been drafted or stupid enough to join up. The stories I got then were from the guys who were friends of friends who had survived, if you can say that, and made it home to live another day made the Viet Nam War real life. Viet Nam seemed like the other side of the world till someone brought it home to you. The movie dramatics seemed all to real after hearing someone confess to you the real thing. Things like not being able to tell who was the enemy, "Charlie", and who the friendly folk were because it seems that it was like everybody in the entire country was kin or looked kin. Stories of weapons that didn't just kill, they'd just screw you up big time and then you were mostly dead and/or just waiting to die.

VietNam, a different war than the one my dad and uncles were in. Nam had helicopters to get you any place, "Napom" that didn't just burn the enemy but stuck to him like burning glue, wow what a way to die. My uncle told me once that the forests of Germany looked just like those in Tishimigo County, but you couldn't say anything like that about VietNam.

Now I know that there have been other wars since then but Viet Nam will be my war. The one that affected me the most. The one that brings tears to me any time some one talks about it. The one that burns in my heart because of the hurt that it caused.

So I'd like to say thanks to John David Crow, a friend, Robert Smith, CHS class of 67 and a Football Tiger, Jeff, Bill, Earny, Jeno, Derek,... and many more whose names I'd rather not write but are listed on the VietNam Memorial in Washington. I honor you with this short posting but carry memories in my teary eyes. To those who went on to not just play war, I'm sorry I wasn't there for you but I'm not sure I could have made it.