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My Father—who passed away in 2015 from Agent Orange related health complications—was one of the United States Marines that served during the Vietnam War. He survived the siege at Khe Sanh, but was ultimately a casualty of the war’s chemical legacy.
He rarely spoke of the war, but when he did, his stories were often about his memories of the siege at Khe Sanh. I recall his stories of pilots risking their lives to bring the Marines desperately needed supplies, often crashing and being bombarded by mortar fire. He refused to eat Vienna Sausage, telling me that he’d had his last of them at Khe Sanh (apparently, it was all he and others had to eat for some time). He recalled eating dry coffee grounds to stay awake—water was rationed, so brewing coffee would have been a luxury. I always got the sense that he was editing the things he told me, sparing the worse memories, but I could see it behind his eyes as they glistened with tears—that’s when he would go quiet.
This book gave me the brutal context and texture that my Daddy chose to keep to private. Often, in reading this detailed, historic work, I found convergences with Daddy’s recollections, and couldn’t help but imagine him I’m in the background of this book, and unnamed combat engineer, a volunteer U.S. Marine, experiencing everything this excellent book presents.
I don’t know if it helped me understand my Daddy more, but I feel like it did. I felt pride, awe, and pity for these Marines (as well, their NVA counterparts) and this hellish combat base and the outposts in the hills surrounding it. I won’t say I fully understand why they were there—it still seems so confusing, and an extraordinary waste of young lives—this does not lessen their sacrifices and suffering. This book only enhances the swelling pride I feel when the star and stripes flow in the spring winds above my home—when I hear the wind crack the fabric, I feel my Daddy near, and now, due to this wonderful historical work, I will carry a more dense knowledge of where his deep love for the flag came from. It also reminds me that our leaders can and will send their countrymen to fight and die in poorly planned operations, with pitiful provisions—this frustrates me, and this book left me with this irritation yet again.
This book was hard to read at times—gory, painful, and jarring—and made me feel helpless, angry, and ashamed of my countrymen that clammer for “civil war” across modern channels (many who likely have never served a day in the mud and blood of actual warfare). My father wanted to spare me and my children the terror and lingering grief of war, and this book has helped me understand why held those strong convictions.
May I find inspiration to discover my own bravery in the sacrifices of these U.S. Marines (sent to fight and die in this confusing, cruel war), especially during difficult times. With great effort, may we all seek peaceful solutions to their end, and only wage war when all else has failed, when it is absolutely necessary, and may we enter it with remorse.
He rarely spoke of the war, but when he did, his stories were often about his memories of the siege at Khe Sanh. I recall his stories of pilots risking their lives to bring the Marines desperately needed supplies, often crashing and being bombarded by mortar fire. He refused to eat Vienna Sausage, telling me that he’d had his last of them at Khe Sanh (apparently, it was all he and others had to eat for some time). He recalled eating dry coffee grounds to stay awake—water was rationed, so brewing coffee would have been a luxury. I always got the sense that he was editing the things he told me, sparing the worse memories, but I could see it behind his eyes as they glistened with tears—that’s when he would go quiet.
This book gave me the brutal context and texture that my Daddy chose to keep to private. Often, in reading this detailed, historic work, I found convergences with Daddy’s recollections, and couldn’t help but imagine him I’m in the background of this book, and unnamed combat engineer, a volunteer U.S. Marine, experiencing everything this excellent book presents.
I don’t know if it helped me understand my Daddy more, but I feel like it did. I felt pride, awe, and pity for these Marines (as well, their NVA counterparts) and this hellish combat base and the outposts in the hills surrounding it. I won’t say I fully understand why they were there—it still seems so confusing, and an extraordinary waste of young lives—this does not lessen their sacrifices and suffering. This book only enhances the swelling pride I feel when the star and stripes flow in the spring winds above my home—when I hear the wind crack the fabric, I feel my Daddy near, and now, due to this wonderful historical work, I will carry a more dense knowledge of where his deep love for the flag came from. It also reminds me that our leaders can and will send their countrymen to fight and die in poorly planned operations, with pitiful provisions—this frustrates me, and this book left me with this irritation yet again.
This book was hard to read at times—gory, painful, and jarring—and made me feel helpless, angry, and ashamed of my countrymen that clammer for “civil war” across modern channels (many who likely have never served a day in the mud and blood of actual warfare). My father wanted to spare me and my children the terror and lingering grief of war, and this book has helped me understand why held those strong convictions.
May I find inspiration to discover my own bravery in the sacrifices of these U.S. Marines (sent to fight and die in this confusing, cruel war), especially during difficult times. With great effort, may we all seek peaceful solutions to their end, and only wage war when all else has failed, when it is absolutely necessary, and may we enter it with remorse.