My dad the Vietnam Vet
i should've posted this around Veteran's day back in Nov. 11 or 12, but was fairly busy now that I actually started to work. I don't remember if I even posted it here x_X that's how bad my memory is at the moment. Anyhoo...here it is:
My dad is a jack of all trades (I definitely got this trait from him!); he can do anything that he puts his mind to it...mostly in the arts and well, electronic stuff. Not many of you know that my dad fought in the Vietnam War. So here I am telling you about him and how I appreciate that he survived that war to be able to marry my mom and have my brother and I afterwards.
I honestly did not know much about my dad’s past when he served in the war until my junior year in Granada High. There were pictures in some photo albums that showed my dad in full combat gear with him carrying a gun, posing for the camera. My dad was a Sergeant in the army, and seeing how I grew up in different forts across the western half of the US, I was definitely a military brat. My dad is the type of person who won’t tell you the story unless you’re old enough to understand it or you asked him about it. For me, the story would not be revealed until I had to interview him for my US History class. Most juniors in the US History class were required to interview a Vietnam vet, requiring many of these juniors to go the Veteran’s hospital. I was fortunate to not have to go there; even though I would still have an easy access to them because my mom worked at the VA hospital.
I recall my dad asking me what I need to know, and having to repeat the questions over and over since my dad has a very short term memory. He told me what he saw and what he went through. I do remember him telling me that he lost part of his hearing due to a surprise mortar attack that hit his location, while another time there was another attack and some shrapnel hit his knee area (which side that was, I’m not quite sure). I also remember him telling me that they had to have fun at some point, drinking beer and smoking weed to escape the insanity that was happening around them. I did find it odd that my dad won’t mention the gruesome events (although he did tell me that he lost a few of his buddies), but I let it pass because I figured it might bring up something bad for him.
Needless to say I understood my dad better after that. It explained the sudden nap he’ll take after you talk to him 1 minute prior to the sudden gasp of air as he wakes up from that nap. My dad could snap at any moment (trust me I was the rebel in the family, I bet you would be snapping at me too), and I only figured that out as an adult that I may have (or not) triggered something in his past. Part of the anger that I saw in my dad’s eyes was yes, because I didn’t listen or do what he says as a rebelling teen, while that other part was something I can’t explain until now. My dad definitely keeps his emotions in, but it’s definitely written all over his face.
I regret not keeping a copy of that essay I wrote and the notes I took. I would have loved to share what I wrote. My US history teacher, Mr. Lovejoy, pulled me aside after class (my classmates and I thought I did something wrong hahaha) and asked me if what I wrote was true. I told him it was the truth, and that I moved so many times in my life that I couldn’t keep friends because of what my dad was. I do remember what Mr. Lovejoy told me; he said that it was extraordinary to have a child of a Vietnam vet be in his class since he didn’t really have any students with a father who’s also a Vietnam War vet. He asked permission if he could keep my paper and be able to share it with the US history classes in the school. I didn’t see any importance to keeping the paper (since I probably would have tossed it), but I felt that it was important for other kids and other people hear about it.
Yes, with spelling mistakes (my dad pronounced mortar in a way that it sounded like “mortal”) I still got an A on that paper. My teacher said I wrote the paper in a way where it made him feel like he was there with my dad. My essay, though, was not about getting the grade - it was to tell the story of what war is like.
My dad was the second generation in our family to have participated in a war. His father, my grandpa served in the army too, but he fought in World War II (I believe there is a plaque or a certificate hanging on my grandma’s house wall that says this). My dad was also sprayed with Agent Orange during his service in Vietnam. One of the side effects (from what I read on his notice from the VA hospital) that he got from that increased his chance of diabetes (and yes he does have type 2 diabetes). If there was another side effect, I do not know what it would be because I don't think he would share that with us.
My dad did go to Iraq several years ago for work, and it was scary not knowing what is going on with him. Even though he was there, he still took the time to thank the soldiers for their hard work because he could relate to what they are going through. When he sees a young person coming back from the Iraqi/Afghanistan war, he thanks them and talks to them.
To me, it’s no coincidence that my dad was born on November 12th. Not only his birthday almost always require a 3 or 4-day weekend, we also celebrate him the day before (November 11th) for serving his country and for being alive. Happy early birthday Dad and thanks for everything, and thank you for being alive! If you ever see my dad, thank him for being the awesome person he is!