... In this type of fighting it was almost impossible to know who the enemy was at any one time. Children were suspect, women were suspect. -Douglas Anderson, US Marines
Bernie,
I'm honored that you feel the need to protect me and my name when I'm not around to do so, but I wish there was a better way. I've seen so many horrible things in the past week that I just want all of it to end. I know it never can, it's just not in human nature, but is it wrong to wish it were all over? It can't be wrong to want peace. Peace can never be wrong, can it?
Forgive me. I lost myself.
I didn't want Uncle Jake to tell you, but our company, and another, was involved in a four day battle. The NVA pinned us in a valley and was mortaring us for most of the time. Last day we charged the hill, lost half our men to either the hospital or the morgue, most were WIA. Bruce (remember I told you about him? Real funny guy) didn't make it. Middle of the first night, mortar hit real close to him and he caught a piece of shrapnel in the torso, and a whole bunch in his arms and legs. He didn't have a chance. But I don't want you to worry, I'm okay and so is Dave. Only lost three other guys from our unit and Doc said they'll probably come back. I've got a couple scratches, as does everyone and I'm a bit sore all over from lying in the mud for half a week and humping with my pack for two weeks. Really though, don't worry. Worst thing is I'm exhausted. And please, don't tell Mom. If I tell her, I want to be the one to tell her. I know it sounds silly and maybe it is, but if she thinks I'm in danger... What I mean is that I just don't want her to worry more than necessary. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?
Your choice to fight Quintin physically and Danny's decision not to doesn't make either of you weak. He doesn't want to fight, some boys don't. I never wanted to fight, not really. Usually, I was on the receiving end, my head in the toilet and various other unpleasant things. There were times I wished I was strong enough to kick the crap out of them, sure. The only times I instigated anything was when anyone said anything about Dad. Listen to me, you are not weak and neither is Danny. You deal with it differently, that's it. You know, thinking about it, when people said things about Dad and I retaliated, I was doing the same thing you've been doing. I was protecting his name because he wasn't here to do it himself. But listen, neither of us is weak for doing so, and Danny isn't either for choosing not to fight. Take my word for it.
No, I don't kill women and children and old men, but I want you to understand something. Over here, everyone looks the same. We've gone through a village and they say "GI numbah one" but at night they put on their black pajamas and set up mines and sit up in trees as snipers. I've never seen one step on a mine working in their fields or rice paddies and they hardly turn their heads when one of us do. There's always the chance of walking into a village and finding a woman guarding a bunch of ammunition or something. Everyone over here is considered the enemy. You can't let yourself get too close to them, or you might be dead. Sometimes, as much as I hope I never have to, the answer is to kill first, ask questions later. It's a horrible way to live, but I rather me than you.
Mom wrote to me and she told me that she was sorry for not talking about Dad. She was afraid of the pain that talking about him might bring. If she's talking about him, maybe she's trying to make up for it. She sounded like she was real upset about the whole thing. Also, she mentioned that she didn't want us to think Dad was a bad Jew because he committed suicide. I think it would be best if you let her talk about it, maybe talk about hat you remember about him. I know it's not much, we were both young, but she needs to be assured that this new decision is right. Maybe it will make her worry less about me, knowing that if I die, she'll have at least tried to correct some of her mistakes.
Anyway, I've gone on long enough. I'll talk to you later. Now I've got to write to Mom and figure out what I'm going to say to her. That should be fun.
Love,
John (aka Flit)