I was going through some writings yesterday and came upon something that I wrote in 2001. I resubmitted the interior files to my book 35 letters From Vietnam to include the following.
August 20, 2001
I fought against men in a foreign land. I listened as the bullets and rockets went by. When the bullets and pieces of rockets would be stopped by young men, sometimes the young men would die. Always the pain always the fear, never the question what are we doing here. Our country said we were needed and might have to give our lives, they never said our youth would be lost. They never said you will become a stranger to the ones you left behind, your life will be changed if you survive.
Over mountains, through Rice paddies soaked with rain, and soaked with fear. Hungry, thirsty no one to hold but dying friends who would never grow old. Coming home after being through hell to be called names instead of being held. No one to comfort no love for the soul, leaving behind friends that would never grow old. The years passed, the stories of how wrong we were to fight and die, talk of the waste of life. Talk of remorse for the hurt we caused the failures of our plan, the only war we ever lost.
Popular words to say so easy if everyone agrees but I hope my voice is heard in history. We fought we died we paid more than anyone should have to pay so you can stand in a free country and speak words that are popular to say.
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