The images of war constantly haunt me. Sometimes, they upset me. Other times, they make me weep. No matter how hard I try to forget, they will always remain in my mind. They say once you go experience war, you are never the same. Once, I was careless. I was never concerned about the less fortunate. All I cared about was beer and baseball. I'm a changed man. The misery and suffering I saw made an indelible mark on my life. Whenever I sit down to eat a meal, I think of a child in Vietnam who might be starving.
The memories of the children haunt me most often. There was one in particular that I can never forget. There was a little girl, no higher than my knee. She called herself Trinh, but said everyone else called her "American". I laughed, as she did not appear to be American. She had jet black hair and had the eyes most Asian's will have.
Trinh asked me if her father was with me. I shook my head, wondering why I would know her father. She said her father was an American. Her Vietnamese mother did not want a child of American blood. The mother sent Trinh out to fend for herself. Trinh did not appear to be older than four. Her eyes held a dark look, as if her experiences had made her grown old.
It finally hit me. This child had no family. There was nobody to tuck her into bed at night and read her a bedtime story. No one fed her dinner. Nobody would kiss her injuries to make them better. Trinh would never get to have a childhood. I felt ashamed of the many times I had complained about my life. My problems seemed minimal in comparison to Trinh's.
The look in Trinh's eyes left the biggest impression on me. She never looked anyone in the eye. It was almost as if she was ashamed of her existence. I did realize that the thought was a bit too sophisticated for someone of her age, but she seemed humiliated for some reason. Tears welled up in her eyes. She said how badly she wanted to find her father so he would bring her home. That's all she wanted- to be home.
I could hardly live with myself for once being so selfish. I had taken my family for granted many times. This child changed me. Our conversation was not a long one, but was the most significant one of my lifetime. From then on, I could not live with myself if I stayed a beer drinking soldier. It would be horrible to throw my life away. That is when I decided I would save these Vietnamese children from shame.
I became obsessed with these Vietnamese children. I could not live with myself if I allowed them to go on being penalized for their American heritage. I set up camps in Vietnam and worked to set up agencies. Something had to be done to help these children find their American fathers.
One day, I pray that I will find Trinh at a Bui Doi camp. Maybe, she'll take notice of the American. She'll ask if her father is with me. This time, I'll be able to say that he is.