|
Here is the letter I sent to Mike Malloy last year -
Veterans Day was always been treated as a non-holiday in my house. My Dad would rarely, if ever, discuss his service, took no credit for his actions, and harbored a general disdain for the US government following his tours of duty.
Like so many others of current and wars past, he enlisted voluntarily. An act he describes as "the folly of youth". At 18 I wanted to join the service, which prompted the first time my father ever described some of his experiences in detail. One such story resounded:
(paraphrased)
We arrived Saigon to receive our detachment orders. The guy in charge of overseas operations explains that we are supposed to help the South Vietnamese army patrol an area of 35 miles around Nha Trang and engage and harass the enemy on sight. My CO turned to me and asked, "so Peewee, have you got the guts to kill?" I didn't know what to say. I was 19 years and what the hell did I know.
We flew into Nha Trang the next morning and the base was under heavy fire. The fighting lasted most of the morning, and eventually subsided. We lined up each wounded man and I began administering first aid. I was the medic and my first duty was to assess who could and could not be saved. My CO was wounded and lay there begging, "help me Peewee, help me!"But I had to step over him because in the time it would have taken to save him I would have to let three other men die. I did everything I could for everyone I could. It turned out the guts I needed to kill were there, but not in the way he expected.
A week later the same guy that gave us the "kill everyone" outside Nha Trang speech in Saigon showed up to take command at Nha Trang. Suddenly the mission changed, we were no longer allowed to venture outside the perimiter. From now on out mission would be guarding and maintaining the security of the base.
It was all bullshit.
(end story)
My Dad received several medals and commondations for his service, none of which he will discuss freely. I remember him giving my younger brother his Silver Star to use as part of a childhood Halloween costume (Han Solo for those interested), and I remember he had a box of other "stuff, junk, debris," as he called it, stowed away in the bowels of our family home. Inside were other bars, other medals, and bullets. Discussing them was never an option.
When it came time for the recruiter to take me for a physical my Dad, the 5.4" former Green Beret, "persuaded" him to leave without me and never to darken our doorstep again.
My Dad explained that he was always more concerned about being known for what was important. He was a Dad, a husband, a businessman, a plumber, a restaurant owner, these, he said, were the measure of his stature, not the experiences into which he was thrust as a wide eyed and naieve youth.
I have made it a family tradition to participate in Veterans Day services and rememberances here in New Hampshire, and I intend to teach my son to do the same. The day is far to important to be left to mattress and appliance sales, to lonely old men and cold stone monuments. Our veterans, all veterans, whether serving by circumstance or their own personal choice, deserve more. They deseve our gratitude and our support.
I call my Dad every Veterans Day and thank him, and I thank all the veterans with whom I work personally, and their humility humbles me. My father, Robert Louis DeRego, served in Vietnam from 1961-1964 with the Green Berets.
I have taken Siegfried Sassoon's words to heart, although written in 1919, and about years following a war so distant from us now, the words ring true and burn today as they did then. Have you forgotten yet?
|
Printer-friendly format
Email this thread to a friend
Bookmark this thread
(1000+ posts)
Send PM |
Profile |
Ignore
