Do We Really Know the Price of War?

When challenged as a writer to relay dramatic information, I usually ignore that type of work. After all, I do sports and financial articles and occasionally funny (I think) poems. I leave the mind-altering and emotional topics for writers who are professionally trained.

However, it’s a new year. Perhaps I should open up.

I should tell you that I hate war. There have been wars ever since the existence of man. The war that enveloped me was Vietnam.

I went to Vietnam on my 21st birthday. Nice birthday present, eh? The years leading up to that consisted of trying to date cute girls and owning “hot cars.” Believe me, being 21 years old makes no one ready for a war.

I went on July 3, 1970.

The decade before was a heartbreaking one for the United States. African Americans were fighting for rights, and we endured the three horrible assassinations of John Kennedy, Robert Kennedy , and Martin Luther King Jr.

When we look at war or think of war, most of us think of it in total. We know there is killing and weaponry and politics, and we may have strong feelings about it, but that isn’t war. What is war?

I was a finance clerk in the army. I was a “Specialist Four,” which is equivalent to a corporal. My job was to pay soldiers (I had about 600). While not in the field with infantry, the area where I lived was “rocketed” often by the Viet Cong, and I sometimes had to go out in helicopters to pay men in the field. I lived a life full of fear, but I got used to it.

It is through the duties of this job that I would like to relay what war is.

When new soldiers came “in country,” they had to give me their information with respect to how they wanted their money handled. I soon refused to be friendly to these guys because if I got to know anything about them, if they were killed and I got their death certificate, my heart would break.

One day, I had gotten a nice letter from home and was in a good mood. A young medic came in who was very friendly. He was anxious to help wounded soldiers. Despite my usual “rules about making friends,” I liked him. He told me he wanted to be a doctor. He showed me a picture of his wife and new baby and how he would keep himself so busy the year would fly by.

Ten days later, I sent his Army life insurance (SGLI) to his wife because he had been killed by a hidden land mine. I was depressed for weeks and still think of him today even though I’m 62 years old.

You know Vietnam was supposed to be an “important” war, and yet before he died, then-Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara wrote a book titled “In Retrospect: The Tragedy and Lessons of Vietnam,” in which he essentially said the war was not necessary.

It is unfortunate the Vietnam War was unnecessary according to McNamara, since 58,196 soldiers died.

That young medic has been dead now for over 40 years. That’s about how old his baby is.

What I hope I’ve shown you is that while wars are controlled by weapons and politics, they are paid for not by a group of deaths, but with one precious life, one precious family at a time.

My 63rd birthday will be July 3, and while I don’t remember that young medic’s name, there will be a large piece of cake at my table for him and a moment of silence.

I can only wonder what the wasting of over 58,000 lives has done to our country.


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