The Unwelcomed

"On this Memorial Day weekend, we remember the fallen. Not just during the Viet Nam conflict, but all wars we have been in."

Ralph was sitting on the MAC flight, somewhat numb. The day he has been waiting for, the day which was marked in red on his "short time" calendar, had finally arrived. It was a day he never, ever thought he would see. It had been twelve months since he had first arrived in Viet Nam as a scared kid from Minnesota. He was now returning home as something much different than he was when he left.

Ralph graduated from high school in 1967. The war was on the news each and every night. Walter Cronkite would paint a picture of gloom and doom in this little country a half a globe away. Ralph, like so many of his classmates, grew up in a house where both parents lived through World War II. Some of their fathers even fought in it. So to volunteer for the draft and fight this Communist menace, seemed like the right thing to do. Shortly after graduation, Ralph, along with his good friend Steve, volunteered for the draft.

Somewhere after the refueling stop in Hawaii, Ralph started to drift off to sleep. He was not used to sleeping in total safety. It was somewhat strange for him. His mind drifted off to that place he just left. The person he once was, also was left there. He was changed.

He remembered the terror he often felt at night while being on patrol. He remembered one of the young men (Jamie) in his platoon stepping on a crude land mine which was well hidden by the enemy. He remembered he and his Platoon Sargent trying desperately trying to save Jamie's life. He held Jamie in his arms as he saw the blood, and the life, slowly leave his body. Ralph had never seen death before. And before he came home, he would see it again.

Yes, not only did Ralph see death in his own platoon, he also would became the instrument of death to the enemy. One night when on patrol, a squad of North Vietnamese regulars stumbled on their position. All of a sudden, this quiet evening erupted into a cacophony of noise, gunfire, screams and confusion. Before he knew it, he had one of the enemy right outside his position with bayonet flashing. Suddenly, in the middle of the firefight, Ralph was in hand to hand combat with one of the enemy. 

Ralph was too scared to think about dying. About what this enemy soldier could do to him. Ralph's training from IT school kicked in. His training as a high school wrestler kicked in. Although wounded in the arm by the bayonet, Ralph managed to disarm the enemy. Then it was Ralph who had the weapon. As Ralph thrust the bayonet into the rib cage of this enemy soldier, he looked into his eyes. And as this enemy lay dying next to him with his own bayonet lodged in his chest, a part of Ralph died also. He just killed a man with his own hands. Even though this was war, the sight of this enemy dying right next to him was a sight which would haunt him for years to come.

As the MAC flight touched down at Travis Air Force Base in California, Ralph waited to board a bus which would take him to San Francisco Airport. From there he would board a plane taking him back home to his parents, his life, in Minnesota. Once Ralph arrived at the San Francisco airport, he walked through the concourse to gate check in. 

He was getting ready to pass by some young folks, about the same age as Ralph. Man, it was so nice to see people who were not in combat uniforms. Even though Ralph was still in uniform, none of the civilians were. All of a sudden, he was starting to feel like he really might be home.

As he passed the group of two gals and one guy, Ralph smiled and nodded to them. One of the girls lifted her middle finger and then said the most awful things. She accused Ralph of being everything from a baby killer to war criminal. Her voice was full of contempt, anger and invective. No "welcome home". No "thanks for your service". Just condemnation.

The above story is not real. Or is it. It is truly about the way our returning servicemen were treated during the Viet Nam era. It was shameful the way they were treated. I was called a "pig" as I walked through San Francisco Airport in my dress blues in 1971. Many returning vets at that time have similar stories.

Today, it is not the same. Veterans are treated with the respect they deserve. Most vets do not feel like heroes - serving is just something they do or they did. All they want is when their tour(s) are over, is to come home and be normal. To be treated like everyone else.

On this Memorial Day, we remember the fallen. Not just during the Viet Nam conflict, but all wars we have been in. At one time our returning servicemen were treated as "the unwelcome". Thank God those days are over. To all service men and women, especially my brothers who fought in Viet Nam, welcome home. You may not feel like heroes, but in my book, each and every one of you are a hero to me.