April 1, 1969
My dad was in Vietnam. He served one tour of duty there during the height of the Tet Offensive. Memorial Day has always been special for our family. We always put out the flag, something we rarely did otherwise. Dad and I always drove to Dyersville and its neighboring towns to visit the cemeteries, walking down the cement paths lined with flags. He'd show me the graves of his close friends killed in the war, kids just out of high school, like my dad.
He has a small collection of pictures from the war. The back of this one reads, in my dad's straight and disciplined scrawl, "April 1, 1969":
He'd turned twenty one that March. When I turned twenty one I was a junior at Iowa. When my dad turned twenty one he was stationed in Chu Li, patrolling the rivers on a small platoon boat.
When he returned from Asia, and underwent debriefing at Long Beach, the Navy looked through all the pictures he had developed. They confiscated most of them. A lot of the pictures he was able to keep are of friends or himself. Some show ships out at sea or in harbor. I can't find the pictures I wanted to post. There's one with him posing with an M60 machine gun, dressed in jungle fatigues, looking away from the camera. But that's not my dad. He's not a soldier. My dad is a very loving, gentle, friendly guy. He made a lot of friends in Vietnam. He told me they were his best friends. In this pic he's the one in the white shirt.
The one I want to post, another I can't find, is one of the most sobering pictures I've ever seen. The image itself isn't depressing — my dad with three bunk buddies on the stairs of their lodge. The depressing thing is what's written on the back. It lists the names of everybody, including my dad. One guy has his shirt off and his flexing his muscles for the camera. On the back it reads, "Joe (no shirt) was killed two days later." If I find that picture I'll make sure to post it, along with the writing on the back.
My dad originally wasn't supposed to go over. He was stationed elsewhere, and I can't remember where right now. It might have been the Philippines. A buddy of his, who had a wife and kid back in the states, got orders to ship out and join the fighting. But my dad stepped in and took his place.
He has a small collection of pictures from the war. The back of this one reads, in my dad's straight and disciplined scrawl, "April 1, 1969":
He'd turned twenty one that March. When I turned twenty one I was a junior at Iowa. When my dad turned twenty one he was stationed in Chu Li, patrolling the rivers on a small platoon boat.
When he returned from Asia, and underwent debriefing at Long Beach, the Navy looked through all the pictures he had developed. They confiscated most of them. A lot of the pictures he was able to keep are of friends or himself. Some show ships out at sea or in harbor. I can't find the pictures I wanted to post. There's one with him posing with an M60 machine gun, dressed in jungle fatigues, looking away from the camera. But that's not my dad. He's not a soldier. My dad is a very loving, gentle, friendly guy. He made a lot of friends in Vietnam. He told me they were his best friends. In this pic he's the one in the white shirt.
The one I want to post, another I can't find, is one of the most sobering pictures I've ever seen. The image itself isn't depressing — my dad with three bunk buddies on the stairs of their lodge. The depressing thing is what's written on the back. It lists the names of everybody, including my dad. One guy has his shirt off and his flexing his muscles for the camera. On the back it reads, "Joe (no shirt) was killed two days later." If I find that picture I'll make sure to post it, along with the writing on the back.
My dad originally wasn't supposed to go over. He was stationed elsewhere, and I can't remember where right now. It might have been the Philippines. A buddy of his, who had a wife and kid back in the states, got orders to ship out and join the fighting. But my dad stepped in and took his place.
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