Just thinking: I don't remember the day I arrived in Viet
Nam. Neither is there much memory of the long, long,
transoceanic flight from California to Saigon. I remember
that I did come alive with the excitement of being in such a
new and exotic place; and of course, there was the added
fillip of the threat of sudden death.
I don't clearly recall the day I arrived, But I do
remember that I came alive At the prospect of death being
so near. And oddly enough, there was no fear.
But I wasn't really afraid. While at thirty-one years old, I
didn't have the blissful conceit of youth's belief in
immortality; death was still something that happened to
other people.That came later,
with the first attack When it dawned on me I might not
get back To grumble about Montana's �Big Sky' That had
spread before my citified eyes.
That changed with the first attack, when it became
inescapably apparent to me that there really were people
who, although they had never met me, were determined to help
me shuffle off this mortal coil. All that, and crotch rot
too.There was something about a
bullet's hum That made me realize this wasn't much fun,
And, maybe in Biloxi, it got just as hot, But at least I
never suffered from crotch rot.
Believe it or not, there were actually times when I felt a
bit of nostalgia for the grand sweep of �The Big Sky'
country. Even if I was only half joking when I said I
volunteered for Viet Nam to escape Montana. Those visits to
Glacier National Park did have their good points, even for
this city boy."You can only watch
with furious eyes As mortars explode and the agonized
cries Of the victims pierce your soul with a chill
That freezes memories that will never melt, And bares a
nerve that still is felt In those unguarded moments when
you're still."
I don't remember the flight out of Saigon either � coming
and going, both a complete blank. A lot of what happened in
between those two events has also vanished from my memory as
though it never was. But I do remember Viet Nam. Yes, I do.
I don't remember boarding the flight, I don't recall
what was my last sight Of the land that has so affected
me; Now why, do you suppose, that should be?
|