Policing Saigon by Christensen Loren W

Author:Christensen, Loren W.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: LWC Books
Published: 2017-10-25T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 40

LETTERS

A significant technological innovation during the Vietnam War was that a platoon’s battle on Wednesday could be seen Thursday at home during the dinner-time news hour. There was nothing like that during the Korean War or World War II. Today, it’s strange to see news clips showing troops in Afghanistan and Iraq chatting on the phones with their families back home. They can even use services like Skype to see each other in real time. Undoubtedly, in the next war—of course, the current ones must end before we can have a “next” one—loved ones will beam into a war zone, ala Star Trek style, for a “warm hug” with their GI and beam back stateside an hour later.

In Saigon, there was a place where a guy could phone home. The line was always a mile long, and when a GI did get a turn, he could barely hear the person on the other end, that is, if he didn’t lose his connection. I broke up with my girlfriend when I was in basic training, and I didn’t have a compelling need to call my parents. Of course, with my 14 hours on and 10 hours off, I never had the time to wait in a line to call.

My parents wrote often. My mother sent me local news pieces, talked about the neighbors, and filled me in on what Terry and Mike, my two buddies, were doing. My dad mostly told me not to take chances. “Some of those sergeants are mean and dumb, and they will make you do dangerous things.” You got that right, dad.

Sometimes the letters from my parents moved me to tears. They reminded me of a life—a safe and innocent one—a million miles away. They made me feel that it hadn’t been that long ago when I had been with my young pals ripping up the streets on our bicycles, exploring the banks of the Columbia River, and sneaking smokes behind the grocery store. Boyhood stuff. There was no innocence in Saigon. Not even a little.

There were two barrel-sized containers in the USO with letters from all over the United States. The writers addressed them to “Fighting Man,” “Soldier,” or “Anonymous,” and anyone could rummage through them and pick out one to read and write back if so desired. I chose a gal from Chicago, and we swapped a couple of letters. I never tried the barrels again.

My friends had had a going away party for me before I left. One friend, Barbara, brought two cute women with her. I had focused on the shorter one, but there was no point in pursuing with only two days left. About six months into my tour, I wrote Barbara a letter and asked her to send me the address of the shorter one; I couldn’t remember her name. She wrote back, said the girl was engaged and sent me the address of the other. Her name was Karen. We got married two years later.

Karen baked a chocolate

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.