I
find it awkward when someone says "thank you for your
service".
I usually mumble some thanks back, and with averted eyes, move
on.
These words almost always come from people who did not serve, and
while respectfully rendered, they make me squirm a little bit. I do
not know why. But, a "welcome home" salutation is a
universal greeting almost always from a fellow veteran. I smile and
return the thanks with those same two words. Welcome home are bonding
words that have grown over the years from aging vets who, when
looking back, remembered coming home from Vietnam so long ago with a
bewildering, sudden, thud. Many of us arrived in Oakland 12 hours
after leaving a fire base, some after walking point on a patrol,
still wearing the red dirt of that duty, and were on the streets in
civies a few hours later with some travel pay to make their way back
to Ohio, Alabama or New Jersey. And when the hugs and tears of our
families were done with, we would look around us, somewhat
bewildered, with a head full of "what now"? Ensuing
nights filled with mind sounds of popping flares, the hammering of an
M-60, the constant boom of artillery and the whop whop whop of Hueys
coming and going, left us dazed and confused to have left all that
behind so suddenly. Many of us sunk into silence, most tried to
explain our experience to uncomprehending parents, and spouses, and
so many sought the solace of fellow vets at the local VFW or Legion
Hall, usually accompanied by liquor which too frequently led to loud,
aggressive behavior. And how many of us wanted to go
back?
Back to the jungle, to the fire bases that we hated, but where like
minded men with singular purpose treated us like brothers, silent
respect and understanding hanging over us like a warm blanket. Our
home comings were, all too frequently, the beginnings of frustration
and despair. Yet, most just moved on, putting it all behind.
But, however we all might have handled the home coming, there was
never a welcome home feeling from our country much less the people
who never served. We didn't look for it, expect it, or even think
about it. It was a non issue. So, Vietnam vets became an
obscurity in the landscape of America, an awkward presence that most
vets acknowledged with their own silence. But, decades later, when
old ghosts started creeping out of their closets, and the wisdom of
age made its way into their reflections, combat veterans from the
Vietnam war began remembering their experiences in softer toned
colors, instead of the garish bright reds and oranges that they
brought home with them. A kind gentleness emerged as they sought out
their brothers from long ago. The greeting "welcome home"
emerged not as a resentful "we never got a proper welcome",
but simply as a soft nod of the head to those who made it back so
long ago. Two simple words that belong exclusively to them
and
their kin, brothers who know as only they can know. Those men
own those words, another right shoulder patch seen only by those who
also wear one there.
"
Vietnam vibrates like a chord from a minor key, constantly humming in
the back of my heart...." anonymous
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