Most Insensitive Thing Asked ...
from a Vietnam War Widow's Perspective.
Q) “The most insensitive thing you were asked after a spouse died?”
Most of you who know me are aware my first husband, a combat medic, was killed in Vietnam in 1969, during one of the most turbulent eras our country has ever seen.
There used to be a reason for war. Freedom. This was the first time ‘Jane and John Q. Public’ realized we were in a war we had no business being in and it frightened them to think our government would ever allow something like that.
Some directly blamed the vets, even though they were under orders, and in no better position to understand why we were in Vietnam than any of us who waited at home. Accepting that our government had feet of clay was not an easy thing to do.
• Protesters were on streets and university campuses with anti-war signs.
• Draft cards and flags were burned.
• Young men were given 3 choices: be drafted, move to Canada, or go to jail.
• Returning soldiers were cursed (and worse) in airports and public places.
Anti-war was one thing, but the venom toward the vets in some cities was horrid. After seeing so many brothers killed and wounded, their treatment on coming home only added to their Survivor Guilt and PTSD.
All of it hit me hard. While I also wanted us out of Vietnam and our involvement in the war to end, I had just lost my husband in that war in Vietnam.
Where was the compassion for his sacrifice? Did he trade his patriotism and love of country, for what I was witnessing here at home? Did his death mean nothing at all?
Some thoughtless and hurtful things were said:
• “He had no business being there —none of them do!”
• “What a stupid way to die!”
• “He should have left and gone to Canada!”
There were also insensitive questions:
• “Was he a baby killer, too?”
• “Aren’t you glad you didn’t have children?”
Life goes on. We don’t live in the past anymore. While I’m glad those years are behind us, there is still a lot of healing going on. Many Vietnam vets are still dealing with the effects of Agent Orange, PTSD, TBI, and Survivor Guilt.
The families of the fallen have slowly made peace with their loss and accompanying grief, but still they silently wonder, “Why did this have to happen?”
And there’s my question, “How do we keep this from ever happening again?”
Just for the record, I would love to have had a child ...
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CJ, I remember those days like they were yesterday. I would skip school to march and protest against the war. A few of my male friends were in the front lines. I’m trying not to cry because I can’t see. My condolences 💐, I cannot imagine the pain, the questions and confusion you must have gone through. I want you to know that not one of my friends had disrespect for the men who served. We all wanted everyone home and for the government to stop this nonsense. I haven’t seen any of my guy friends in years, not sure if they’re still alive. But I can say, what they went through was horrifying, and when they came back, all three were not well psychologically damaged. The stories would make you ill and I’m sure you’re more than aware. Thank you CJ, always interesting to read your life experiences. 🙏
Some of us, instead of going to jail or Canada, managed to stay a step or two ahead of the unfriendly knock on the door or the hostile inquiries to friends and family. And when it was over it really wasn't. There were the VA hospitals, the mental institutions, the broken lives, the maytag cities under expressway, and the graves of suicides who never regained their places among the living. My life lesson from those days has been sorrow and paranoia.
Broken Melody: Virginibus Puerisque
This night, as I am listening to old songs,
I know that music will not right old wrongs.
I met an ivory girl with golden hair,
And catgut strings on her well-tuned guitar.
We sat together on the oval line;
She sang as sweetly as a thrush in pine.
As her clear voice chimed through the stale CS,
I almost overlooked that lingering gas.
Young paratroopers opened up a breach
Through which a brawny marshal burst to beat
Guitar and girl with an oak riot stick.
Her singing ceased, the sticky blood ran thick,
And she sunk into a dark pool of gore
That soaked the broken strings on the cool floor.
The medivac took her. I saw red rain
And golden hair. We never met again.
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This poem which originated in the recent past. The incident, my recollection of a slice in time, is considerably older-- more than fifty years from where I am remembering it.
Virginibus puerisque: From Horace, Odes 3.1.
carmina non prius
audita Musarum sacerdos
virginibus puerisque canto.
I, a priest of the Muses, sing for girls and boys songs never heard before.
the stale CS: a few hours earlier airborne troops had fired several volleys of gas into the
crowd. Masked soldiers worked the crowd, isolating individuals and bludgeoning them with wood truncheons.
The paratroopers were pretty well disciplined, but the federal marshals at times seemed crazed, glassy eyed as they beat unarmed kids. Afterwards the media reported there had been no serious injuries. I still find that hard to believe.
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On the Killing in Ukraine
Do not disturb the ghosts of Babi Yar,
Who lie in the shadows of this old ravine,
Where winter light shines on the shattered feldspar.
The doors of memory here stand ajar,
Opening onto a cold, denatured scene:
They sleep here, all those ghosts of Babi Yar.
The land's contours conceal a bitter scar
Where time is passing in a sad dream,
And winter light shines on the shattered feldspar.
Here let there be no untoward sound to mar
This quiet stretch of rock and sprawling green
That holds the muted voices of Babi Yar.
They rest here, having come from near and far.
Among the monuments and well trimmed green,
Cold winter light shines on the shattered feldspar.
Once more there is a cacophony of war,
But the sharp, lonesome winds quiver and keen,
"Do not disturb the ghosts of Babi Yar,
Where winter light shines on the shattered feldspar.
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At Babi Yar Ukrainian Fascists, sympathizers and other partisans twice escorted their Jewish brethren to their deaths. Some took part in the mass executions, while others rifled through the suitcases of the victims, separating the valuables.
In the current war in Ukraine The Azov Brigades, notorious for Nazi sympathies and rousing of Jews, Muslims and Roma, have distinguished themselves against the Russians. Recently an avowed spokesperson for the Azov contingent has declared that the Brigades have abandoned their Fascist ways.
First published in The Hypertexts.
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The War between the Rivers: Twenty Years Later
After twenty years
There are still more tears
Than rain on fallen leaf
And wounded, silent grief:
Children, parents, wives
Search for stolen lives
Among broken bones,
Below bone-white headstones,
For after twenty years
There are still more tears
Than rain on fallen leaf
And wounded, silent grief.
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March 20, 2023 marked the twentieth anniversary of the War in Iraq, in which, according to morgue censuses , between 800,000 and 1,000,000 may have perished. The U.S. still maintains a force of 2,500 soldiers in Iraq, that divides its time between securing the country for the Iranians and conducting operations in the national interest such as shelling Syria.