As much
as I like to visit that little piece of usual heaven which is my very own mental
pond, sometimes while there thoughts come uncalled for; thoughts which bring
back from hidden little corners those memories which had been hitherto banished
for eternity. Well, eternity as may be defined by our mortal and very imperfect
minds. Which is a lot shorter than the other one.
I sat
there, quietly perusing many memories. Maybe trying to, from an amalgam of
words and ideas, pick something which could be transformed into a blog entry;
an entry which could be light a little funny (maybe) and easy on the eyes and
the thinking process.
But, as
things tend to go, when you least expect it…
The
clouds rolled in and then away… behind them, came thoughts that had been purged
from my mind. Or so I thought. In other entries past I glanced over my time in
the army while overseas, trying to look at the better moments. Those were years
which most of us who served in the armed forces chose to put mentally aside in the
pursuit of a post Viet Nam life. I did not go to Viet-Nam; those who did gave
all: body, care, thoughts, families and in many cases, the future stability of
their own minds. I am not going to argue about right or wrong; or whether this,
like many other wars, was created to pursue the interests of those who were in
power at the time. Political and financial power.
I was stationed
at Naha Wheel in Okinawa, probably the closest point to VN and the outlet for
many of those who were lucky enough to make it and start the long, difficult
and painful way back home. While in Okinawa, I drove a deuce and a half and
went to the port on a regular basis to pick up used or discarded war ordinance (material/equipment)
and bring it back to the warehouse, where it would be processed to its end,
whatever that might be.
Those
things, after delivery, I did not see again. Often they were not pretty sights,
bloody remnants of a war without fronts where anyone could be a mortal enemy.
Men, women, children, young, old.
Not so
easy to make the human by-product disappear. My memories of those days and
nights reminded me. The cries in the middle of the night; cries that came to
someone’s lips while in the midst of a surreal dream, most likely reliving
moments which would rather be forgotten. Someone waking up with a sudden start
and dropping to the floor, looking to any one next to him as you would look at
someone who wanted to kill you. The nights when we had to physically restrain a
child who too early turned an old man and just coming back from the war zone,
until we could make him realize he was amongst friends. The pain, the angst,
the wasted lives. The feeling of total frustration and desperate want to help,
and not being able to.
Yes, many
memories came back. And I know mine are far from the worst. I can’t even begin
to imagine the memories of those who at 18 or 19 years of age were in the
middle of a fight no one seemed to support. Sometimes we would talk. It was not
easy for me to listen and much more difficult for them to speak about their days and nights in the jungle. I laid in bed
many nights, totally awake. I could only imagine what this generation was going
through. Not knowing that perhaps the worst was yet to come for many, as they
came home to a society which looked upon returning soldiers as not wanted
killers. Today, after so many years, sometimes I still think about this when I
wake up in the middle of the night.
War is
real. You kill, you die. You bleed, you hurt. Then, when you manage to survive physically your mind may not. War is not, as some children may think today, a virtual
TV game. Which you turn on and off.
Wally’s
Pond. Sometimes the memories can be dark. But they are a part of who I am and
will not be denied.
Be Well … Be Back!!!
Final
Notes:
· Pray for those who are fighting an illness
which may take them away from their loved ones… Every request is heard, and
counts!!
· Follow us on Twitter … @RJAsPandora
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