I chatted with a friend recently about our experiences in
Vietnam. He had spent a lot more time in-country than I, and also had been involved
in several of the more intense ground conflicts. But our takes on the war
itself were pretty similar…and not too different from what we saw happening now
in the Middle East.
These are political wars fought from remote locations by
leaders more intent on making themselves look good than accomplishing any real
objectives. (Has there been any time when that approach has actually worked?)
In Vietnam, we sent troops in harm’s way with no real plan.
Fight a bloody battle to take or hold a hill, then leave because it was
untenable. Drop bombs in the jungle because cities, airports, dams, and harbors
were too politically harmful, then complain because all these bombs had no
effect. Change military objectives weekly depending on the whims of Washington.
In Vietnam we got involved in a long war (by my count
thirteen years). There never seemed to be a sense of immediacy in whatever we
were doing (except getting out). Our men and women were sent over there and
left to flail around in the culture. The troops on the front lines went through
hell without direction or purpose. Support personnel and military leadership
settled into a daily life that mostly involved staying out of the headlines. It
was a “bizarro” world where no one knew what was expected of them.
We have been sinking into the same swamp in the Middle East.
Our politicians have no idea what they are trying to accomplish. They make
decisions based on what their political base tells them. They have lost the
support of the country and seem to have no real concept of what war is. It’s like
watching a guy get into a bar fight where he is just trying not to lose.
Ultimately he will get his ass kicked.
I wrote DaNang 1968
(Riding in Boxcars, 2006)
when I was over there. It is symbolic of our whole effort over there and, on a
broader scale of our current politicians’ concepts of how to fight a war. We
would do well to heed the simple words that most of us learned on the playing
fields of America, “win or go home”.
Glenn K. Currie
DaNang 1968
He was water skiing,
Weaving back and
forth,
And against the
tropical scene,
He was a typical
tourist.
A little further out,
Resting gently on the
aqua sea,
The Repose cradled
its wounded,
Dressed in a large
red cross.
The skier, in
graceful silhouette,
Passed before smoking
hills,
Where mortar rounds,
like distant drums,
Boomed beats to his
ballet.
The forces of life
and death,
Seemed joined here in
tortured embrace,
A not so peaceful
union,
That could last
forever.
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