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At
age 57, I still relive Viet Nam every day. How someone else
who has been there could be so cavalier about the subject is
beyond me. I’ve never seen a “home movie”
of Viet Nam before, until the Prince of Boston showed us his.
This man, so proud of throwing his ribbons and medals on the
Capitol lawn (maybe they weren’t his) now wants to take
up residence in the White House. He lied to a congressional
committee. He called my “band of brothers,”
rapists, murderers and pillagers. They’re not here to
defend their honor and now, whom will people believe, a Senator
or me? I would like to smack him across his smug face for saying
that about us. He also admitted taking part in atrocities that
he personally committed. Maybe he has the reenactments of that
too, in his “home movie” collection? I believe he
also attended meetings where plans were being drawn up to kill
members of Congress? As a Naval officer, he had a duty to report
and intervene in what he witnessed, but since he was part of
the problem, this never occurred. There should be a court-martial
today for his actions, inactions and the crimes that he states
he participated in.
I
am still a proud former Marine, proud of my 13 months of service
“in country.” I know what it’s like to be
in the boonies, to smell death, and to draw enemy fire. That
was done on a regular basis. It’s how we fought the Viet
Cong in a guerrilla war. As a forward observer and radio operator,
I called in artillery, when they were drawn out in the open.
Our mission was to kill people and break things and we did it
well!
It was
very hot there, with insects, snakes or leaches on us at all
times. Always wearing our helmets and flack jackets but still
getting wounded and dying in a jungle. Waiting for that med-evac
chopper to show up. Waiting for the fire missions to be approved
or for close air support to assist us. And what did we read
about when we returned to the firebase? The people back home,
protesting against us. Calling us baby killers. The Prince of
Boston was now one of their heroes; again he was part of the
problem. Now he is among the traitors and turncoats such as
the Tom Haydens and Jane Fondas of that time. I contracted malaria
in Viet Nam, and returned to fight. I was wounded by friendly
fire and still returned to fight. I’m a Marine dammit!
Upon my
return to the states in the summer of ’69, someone spit
on my ribbons on the uniform I was wearing. I was walking through
a terminal at JFK Airport with my sea bag, which weighed almost
as much as I did. (I returned to the U.S. weighing 145 lbs.,
a loss of about 30 lbs.) Why would someone spit on me? It wasn’t
my idea to go to Viet Nam; I believe LBJ sent me there. The
cab driver also didn’t like the fact that someone in uniform
got in his cab. (We had to wear our uniforms in order to fly
with military orders.) Welcome Home! I don’t consider
myself a war hero or even a highly decorated Marine, with 3
rows of ribbons. I’m just a typical Viet Nam veteran.
So why is the Prince of Boston considered a hero? Just saying
it doesn’t make it so.
I was
watching the Democrats after their convention, in front of the
Boston Pops. I was amazed at how the Prince of Boston was able
to handle the fireworks display. I cannot listen to fire crackers;
they remind me of a firefight and give me flashbacks. I can’t
listen to the mortar tubes that send these displays into the
air; too many mortars hit us in Viet Nam. The smell of gunpowder
sends me back in time to a place I don’t want to be. The
Fourth of July, unfortunately, places me in a mental combat
zone. I have had to spend that week, for years, in my hideaway
in the Adirondack Mountains to keep my sanity. It’s that
or the VA psych ward again. My neighbors have no idea or regard
for the pain they put me through when they set off their fireworks,
having a good time at my expense. Do they really understand
what the Fourth represents?
As I returned
to civilian life in ‘70, I put Viet Nam away and started
out to pursue the American dream, getting married, buying a
home, and raising children. I became an Air Traffic Controller
at New York Center (NYARTCC). That went well until the upcoming
PATCO strike in ’81. I quit. I couldn’t get on the
picket line nor could I cross the picket line. Maybe I just
couldn’t take a stand at that time, but in any event I
went into my own business for the next few years. I returned
to the FAA in ’86, due in part to partnership problems.
I now worked in a tower environment at Republic Airport (FRG),
instead of the radar environment that I was formally used to
working in. But guess what? A police helicopter crash that I
witnessed from the tower was all it took to send me back into
a flashback mode. I didn’t know it at the time, but that
day started me on a long journey, 180 degrees from where I was
at that time. What some may have even considered “normal.”
After being placed on Valium I was medically disqualified and
unable to continue my life’s profession, ATC. I was now
assigned to a job at JFK doing accident investigations. Since
it was the FAA Regional Office, we handled 6 states. I wrote
up hundreds of accidents and incidents over the years, including
Senator Heinz’ crash in PA, involving a helicopter.
Increasing
nightmares, sweats and flashbacks from being involved with accidents
continued to wake up my buried past from Viet Nam. (Hence the
title of this article) These are my “home movies”
that play daily in my head. Talk about movies on demand! Burnt
bodies, partial bodies, missing heads and blood. No sleep, rotating
shifts and rotating days off almost destroyed my family and
me. (I still have my wife and 2 daughters.) In ’92 I went
to my first Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) unit at the
VA Hospital in Northport, NY. I was given 90 days to learn how
to cope with this disorder of the highest order, as I’ve
come to find out. I was already an outpatient for a few years
and still taking my prescribed Valium, but now I would be taken
off all medications so I could deal with my true self and was
immersed in the program.
In early
’93 I returned to the FAA Regional Office and was given
a 9 to 5 day job. No more accidents to work with, I was now
an educator. I was the Aviation Education Program Manager for
the region. I traveled, I taught and developed aviation programs
in high schools and colleges, and I was good at it. But after
a few years I found I could no longer outrun my PTSD. By July
of ’96 I was retired on Federal Disability Retirement,
burnt out and no longer able to work, or sometimes, even function.
I now had plenty of meds and was very disoriented. I would like
to note at this point that it’s a good thing I realized
back in ’81 that I was an alcoholic and put down the drink,
because if I were still self medicating, I’d be dead by
now. The VA had placed me on 100% disability and Social Security
also added me to their rolls. I was only 49 years old, and I
was a retired grandfather. I proceeded to “take off”
for the next 7 years, staying in touch with my family, but not
able to return until 2 years ago. I then went to a third PTSD
unit in ’03 in a continuing effort to control my “home
movies”.
I spend
most of my time either at 12 step meetings or talking to other
veterans, mostly Viet Nam veterans, since they seem to make
the most sense to me and understand where I am. I also go to
a lot of their funerals too. I don’t know why since we’re
only in our fifties. I spend Memorial Day and Veterans’
Day weekends at The Wall. That’s where my childhood friends
are.
Why am
I telling you all of this sensitive information about myself?
Because I am hoping that someone will listen. I want to be a
part of the solution, even though Viet Nam is not yet over for
me. I am a fighter and still go to the VA Hospital every week
and still have to take my medications, although I am happy to
say it’s been 12 years since I’ve had to take Valium.
I can’t afford to be so cavalier about my time in Viet
Nam as the Prince of Boston appears to be.
He voted
to cut the defense and intelligence budgets and voted to raise
my taxes. He spent 18 years in the Senate without one substantial
bill bearing his name. Some still accuse the President of stealing
the last election, with the help of the Supreme Court, although
the facts prove just the opposite. Just because the liberal
media says it’s so, doesn’t mean that it is. Al
Gore also can’t seem to let it go, but at least he doesn’t
wear Viet Nam on his sleeve. Senator McCain didn’t either,
and he’s my hero. Would I, or did I vote for him? No!
Maybe it was too many years in solitary or too much torture
at the hands of his captors, but he is definitely not all there.
I can easily see that, but he is still my hero and it’s
not necessary at all to explain why.
The Prince
of Boston’s sidekick has also been responsible for helping
to raise the insurance rates of doctors, thereby helping toraise
our health insurance premiums. Again, he is part of the problem,
not the solution. Give him a little senate intelligence sub-committee
work and he’s an expert too, but why didn’t any
of them see 9/11 coming? Clinton gave Bin Laden back to the
enemies of these United States, but that was left out of Fahrenheit
9/11. The 9/11 commission, biased as it was, also debunked the
movie and other left wing liberals, like Dick Clarke, but the
left wing media just continues to hand them a free pass. They
really don’t care how many die, as long as their “Prince”
gets elected.
Again,
why am I writing and disseminating my dissatisfaction? I’m
sick and tired of our flag and our country being bombarded by
a constant barrage of left wing ideology. We’re leaning
too far to the left as it is, embracing socialism, and leaning
toward communism. My Hungarian born grandparents were deathly
afraid of the communists and would have rather been “dead
than red.”
I am sensing
a deeper and deeper chasm in the U.S. It’s split us in
the past with the War Between the States, and it split us again
during the Viet Nam conflict, for which I and many other veterans
are still paying the price. I fear we are splitting once again,
toward civil war or insurrection. I don’t know how long
conservatives will sit still and watch the liberals tear down
the standards of a once great nation. I am beginning to look
at the diehard liberals as my enemy. Are we strong enough to
withstand this challenge without a fight? It is the veterans
of this country that back up the words of the constitution that
grant the Ed Asners, Whoopie Goldbergs, and Linda Ronstats,
the freedom to make their ridiculous statements against our
country’s standards. How much longer will we stand by
and just watch? America must wake up before it’s too late.
I am probably writing what most Americans are feeling. We’re
a silent majority and if we fail to make our voices heard at
the ballot box this year, we’re handing over control of
the country to the liberal minority, and their ideals.
I’ve
been voting as a registered Republican, and/or Conservative,
since I was old enough to vote. I turned 21 in Viet Nam and
voted on an absentee ballot for President Nixon, who I might
add, subsequently returned me to the safety of the U.S. I made
it through the big lie of the draft dodging Clinton administrations,
but I don’t know if I can withstand another big lie of
a Prince of Boston administration. I am already thinking of
Iceland, Greenland, New Zealand, or even Australia. Does this
type of thinking make me an Alec Baldwin type?
This country
is far from being out of danger, not just from terrorists, but
also from their willful cohorts, the liberals. God help us,
and God; please help me to make a difference. I’ve been
struck down long enough by Viet Nam and my subsequent battle
with PTSD. Help me and others to rise up and defeat our old
adversaries and our new found enemies. I want to be a part of
the solution, a solution for a better and stronger America,
where all are created equal. What we do with that equality is
up to the individual, not the government. God bless the U.S.
L/Cpl Zak/USMC F 2/11/Viet Nam ’68-‘69
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