Sometimes Things Really Do Change for the Good

This may be a bit late but I had to think about it some. So please bear with me.

Memorial Day came and went. We spent it like a lot of other people: Relaxing, some barbecue pork back ribs, and a movie.

That doesn’t go to the feelings I have about Memorial Day. I’m a Vietnam vet. I went over when I was 18-years-old and spent nearly two years there.

I came home from Vietnam in February 1969. During the years I lived in Washington, D.C., I made it a point on each Memorial Day to visit The Wall – that is the Vietnam Memorial with the names of brothers and sister who died or went missing during the war.

Since I’ve moved to the San Francisco area I can only go there in my heart, which I fervently did on that day.

I’ve also noticed a change across the country on Memorial Day over the years, especially in recent times. It seemed that for so long and beginning about the time of the Vietnam War the holiday was all but forgotten.

Then the change came about shortly after the beginning of the Iraq War. People started paying attention and honoring veterans and those fallen in the conflict. This also has been the same for Afghanistan.

It certainly is a stark contrast to how those of us who served in Vietnam were treated and remembered.

So many of us who returned from Vietnam felt absolutely forgotten. Not just forgotten, but reviled and dishonored. It was not easy to take. While I don’t dwell on the memories they still remain fresh in my mind.

Stepping off the plane upon my return I felt jubilant and elated. We were quickly hustled onto a bus and taken to the Oakland Army base where we were fitted with new dress greens to wear once the Army mustered us out.

I remember protesters at the gates screaming at us as we rode away in taxi cabs for the airport. Some were absolutely ugly to hear as well as painful. But we were not naive.

We knew the war was unpopular. We’d heard anecdotes about other brothers being spit on upon their return. It didn’t happen to me but I certainly believed it was possible.

I do remember being cursed at and crude gestures aimed my way.

On the flight from San Francisco to Los Angeles I also remember the disdain the flight attendants seemed to aim at those of us in uniform. When they served other passengers they were polite, smiling and even bubbly. But when it came to those of us returning from the Vietnam war they seemed taciturn, distant, and downright unfriendly.

Once the uniform was shed at home all of that seemed to go away. Except for my close-cropped haircut that I was forced to endure upon mustering out there was little that separated me from just about anybody else.

While in college I too protested the war. Certainly my point of view was quite different from other protesters and I always treated brothers and sisters with honor and respect. Afterall, we’d all been in the shit together and I couldn’t turn my back on them.

Since Iraq I have noticed that people now treat Vietnam Veterans differently. I get spontaneous messages of thanks from friends and acquaintances. I sense that they are heartfelt in their gratitude.

Still, I can’t help but remember the pain I felt as a Vietnam Veteran. It is definitely an emotional scar and one that is not easily healed. Frankly, it still hurts some.

Nonetheless, I got on with my life and feel fortunate that I came home in better physical and emotional shape than many others who served in Vietnam. Some of their scars – physically and emotionally – are much deeper than mine.

It deeply saddens me.

However, I’m quite glad to see that men and women in uniform are treated with a lot more respect and gratitude these days. It doesn’t mean that those vets don’t carry scars, both emotional and physical. But at least they are not considered pariahs.

It was a long time coming.