Veterans Day Reminds Me of My Dad

My dad had two friends who were drafted into the Vietnam War and sent to Germany to apparently sit around and smoke pot all day. My dad joined the Navy as a musician thinking he would be sent to Germany as well. Except that he was not sent to Germany to be with his friends. He was sent to Vietnam instead.

When I was young, I would frequently question my dad about the war. I was so curious about it. I wanted him to tell me what happened, what it was like, any possible details, and as you can imagine, he did not want to think about those memories. On occasion he would oblige and tell me a story here and there and hand me a shoe box of photos he had from the war. Looking at those photos to gain insight, I would try to fill in the details with imagery where he would leave out words.

I have less than a handful of stories that I pulled out of him. In fact, I have only one full story and bits and pieces of other random aspects. For instance, he had two tattoos; one on each upper arm that he got one night in Vietnam. He said he woke up one morning and his shirt sleeves were stuck to his arms and he didn't know why. Apparently, while drunk, his friends took him to get the tattoos and they didn't cover them up to heal. My dad absolutely hated those tattoos. One was a ship and one was a little baby devil with a pitch fork.

The story that stands out in my mind the most is the following:

They were on land and I'm guessing off duty at the time. It was my dad and I think three other guys. He made it seems like they were his friends but I'm not sure if he was friends prior to enlisting. They were sitting around in lawn chairs just shootin' the shit when a Vietnamese boy rode toward them on a bicycle. When the boy reached where they were all sitting, the bomb he had attached to him exploded. The power of the explosion was so large, my dad said, that it sent them flying in the air over 20 feet {in distance...not up}, killing one of them. My dad was alive and not hurt but he lost his hearing which returned within a couple of weeks. He also lost his friend.

He said that kind of thing happened frequently. That children were strapped to bombs and sent out to get killed themselves. Just so sad.

He said that mostly, he was on little Navy boats, creeping through waters and would get so sunburned being a fair-skinned Irish boy. To think about how young these boys were to go to war ...about how young they are right now in Iraq. They are just kids. And they are now riddled with images that no human should ever have to witness.

The only picture I got from that box which may not exist anymore

At such a young age, my dad had already lived a hard life but I think Vietnam absolutely took any life he had left out of him. I think he tried to be normal but the truth was just too unbearable. He turned to booze mostly.

Alcoholism runs in our family but my dad was the only one who could never seem to get sober. He also liked cocaine. A lot. It wasn't his downfall though, skin cancer was. ...actually, life was.