1973 O'Hare International Airport.
Vietnam, what a fuckin shithole. Eight months fighting the commies in that hellhole, and finally i was coming home. My name is Private Mitchell Guerrero, I am eighteen years old and a tank driver in the U.S Army. My last tour had been a chaotic one, all my friends Danny Boyd, Timmy Latz, Mark Boyle, and Jimmy Dean were all killed in an ambush attack by the VC, i had watched them all burn alive from a flamethrowere while I was beat with rifle butts. I was lucky to be alive and I couldn't wait to come home. There had been long opposition to the war in vietnam by the public but surely they wouldn't take out their hatred on the soldier would they?
I got off my plane wearing my combat fatigues, my face littered with bruises and scars. As I was getting my luggage, a cup of boiling coffee hit me in the back of the neck, the hot black liquid oozed down my back burning my skin.
"GET OUT OF HERE ASSHOLE" A man shouted to me. I wasn't angered by this but surprised at the mans actions. I suddenly felt my welcome wouldn't be so warm after all but i gave it another chance, after all that was only one man. I continued walking and when I went to buy a Coke at a drink stand the vendor turned down my request and spit right in my face. I was beginning to feel angry. As I walked through the waiting area where a large crowd of people waited I expected them to thank me or clap for me but alas I was wrong. When I came down the stairs I was pelted with cups, food, and trash. People in the crowds angrily shouted, jeered, and spat at me.
"RAPIST" One shouted.
"MURDERER!" Another called.
"GO BACK TO VIETNAM YOU FUCKING DIRTY BABY KILLER!" A group called me. I fell on my knees and began to cry. How could my country betray me like that? I force to go war by the government, The things I saw, Oh dear God the dreaded things I saw, the friends I lost, all for the freedom of these people and they treat me like this? Why? WHY!. Thats when I decided to do it, I was going to end it all by killing myself. I left one war-zone only to return to another! No matter what I did I was hated by both sides. As I lay down crying and the crowd mercilessly insulting me, I saw a little girl about thirty feet away from me. She looked to be about six years old, she was wearing a blue skirt and white button-down shirt, she had red curly hair and freckles. However what caught my attention most was the small american flag she held in her hand.
"WE DON'T WANT YOUR KIND HERE!" A woman shouted but I ignored her. The little girl slowly came up to me and gave me a hug, that hug was the warmest I had felt in months. She then gave me the american flag and whispered five simple words to me
"Thank you Mr. Army Guy"
The girl than walked back to what looked like her grandfather who picked her up and kissed her on the cheek. He saluted me and I noticed he too was wearing an army uniform, but it looked to be a different kind. I than was he was wearing a hat that said World War II in the front. I saluted the old soldier back and I stood back up and walked back towards the plane ignoring the insults of the crowd. Even though my country hates me for what I do, there is that one little girl I must fight for, she is the hope and future of my America. I pray one day all Vietnam Veterans will receive the thanks they never got.
This story is dedicated to the brave Soldiers, Sailors, Marines, and Airmen who fought in Vietnam and returned home to an ugrateful America, take the time to give them the thanks they never recieved.