There were no front lines in Vietnam, this nation's first full-out guerrilla war. No place in the country was ever totally safe. You never could let down your guard. As James Paul Lott was told about the people before going: "They can be your friend during the day and your enemy at night. He said the VC were everywhere, and they could very well be the barber who cuts your hair or the ten-year-old kid who asks to polish your boots. He said to be very careful wherever I went and whatever I did."
Nine out of ten of all US military personnel who served the Vietnam War did not fight. Instead, they served in support of those who did. They were postal workers, military police, guards, office clerks, mechanics, cooks, and drivers. Very few of their stories have ever been told. Van Carter was an Iowa boy who was sent to Vietnam as an infantry lieutenant, but who instead served as one of these rear echelon personnel. He discovered the other side of Vietnam, the side where all these people lived who worked in support of the soldiers in the field. He saw rampant drug use, prostitution and a huge racial divide between black and white American soldiers. He saw the absurdity of poor leadership, bad planning and even worse implementation of America's war effort. He saw how everything and everyone became corrupted in Vietnam. And he, himself, succumbed to this all-pervasive corruption. He smoked dope, visited an authentic opium den, enabled some of the prostitution, openly defied authority, and made new rules he still hopes saved many from life-long addictions to heroin. And he fell in love. These are his recollections.
A Marine Corps recruiter returns to his old stamping grounds to speak with some of the men he enlisted, their families, and the families of others who were killed in action. Some remember their experience with a sense of patriotism; others are bitter and feel forgotten by their country. The 17 accounts are a reminder of the horrors of war, and the lasting effects of its aftermath.
Not a tale of firefights and blood, this book should be read by anyone who lived through the Vietnam era that was not directly involved and did not go to Vietnam. It provides a sense of what went through their minds, the conflicts and confusion and related fears. In a self-deprecating style, the author comes of age, examining these emotions and the guilts of being assigned to a secure area, of leaving a job before it was completed, and abandoning faithful Vietnamese friends. It should be read by anyone who cares about those who went and who want to understand more about them and their era. Forty photos provide a flavor of the year and the place. RAPID CITY JOURNAL 8-21-05 SAYS "MORE THAN OTHER STORIES ABOUT VIETNAM, THIS ONE IS REFLECTIVE, AND THANKFULLY SO. MUEHLBERG SORTS THROUGH THE MORASS TO FIND ENOUGH GOOD TO GIVE HIMSELF AND READERS THE FEELING THAT VIETNAM WAS NOT ENTIRELY AN INSTANCE OF MINDLESS OBLIVION THAT IT SOMETIMES SEEMS." ***Rapid City area may contact author for copies (605-342-4297).***
A candid memoir of being sent to Vietnam at age nineteen, witnessing the carnage of Hamburger Hill, and returning to an America in turmoil. Arthur Wiknik was a teenager from New England when he was drafted into the US Army in 1968, shipping out to Vietnam early the following year. Shortly after his arrival on the far side of the world, he was assigned to Camp Evans near the northern village of Phong Dien, only thirty miles from Laos and North Vietnam. On his first jungle patrol, his squad killed a female Viet Cong who turned out to have been the local prostitute. It was the first dead person he had ever seen. Wiknik's account of life and death in Vietnam includes everything from heavy combat to faking insanity to get some R & R. He was the first in his unit to reach the top of Hamburger Hill, and between sporadic episodes of combat, he mingled with the locals; tricked unwitting US suppliers into providing his platoon with hard-to-get food; defied a superior and was punished with a dangerous mission; and struggled with himself and his fellow soldiers as the antiwar movement began to affect them. Written with honesty and sharp wit by a soldier who was featured on a recent History Channel documentary about Vietnam, Nam Sense spares nothing and no one in its attempt to convey what really transpired for the combat soldier during this unpopular war. It is not about glory, mental breakdowns, flashbacks, or self-pity. The GIs Wiknik lived and fought with during his yearlong tour were not drug addicts or war criminals or gung-ho killers. They were there to do their duty as they were trained, support their comrades—and get home alive. Recipient of an Honorable Mention from the Military Writers Society of America.
"A magnetic, bloody, moving, and worm's-eye view of soldiering in Vietnam, an account that is from the first page to last a wound that can never heal. A searing gift to his country."-Kirkus Reviews The classic Vietnam war memoir, ...and a hard rain fell is the unforgettable story of a veteran's rage and the unflinching portrait of a young soldier's odyssey from the roads of upstate New York to the jungles of Vietnam. Updated for its 20th anniversary with a new afterword on the Iraq War and its parallels to Vietnam, John Ketwig's message is as relevant today as it was twenty years ago. "Solidly effective. He describes with ingenuous energy and authentic language that time and place."-Library Journal "Perhaps as evocative of that awful time in Vietnam as the great fictions...a wild surreal account, at its best as powerful as Celine's darkling writing of World War One."-Washington Post
This memoir recalls the experiences of young men serving in US Army in Thailand during the mid 1960s. We supplied the air force with the bombs of Rolling Thunder. We aren't Vietnam Vets because, while we served within the designated combat area of Thailand, Cambodia, Laos and Vietnam for far in excess of the thirty days required, we were not in direct support of ground forces. We were REMFs. Rear echelon service is the rule in the military. Actual combat soldiers (so-called maneuver elements or trigger pullers) are the exception. This produces a sense of elitism among those in combat, who refer to the majority of their fellow troops as rear echelon mother fuckers (REMFs). They earned the elitism, since the death rate among members of maneuver elements runs around fifty times that of rear echelon troops. What percentage of US ground forces are REMFs? Well, according to Michael Kelly (Misconceptions: Vietnam War Folklore) only about 1/3 of the personnel in deployed combat units end up as trigger pullers. In addition, only 25 to 30% of the military at large are in combat units. The rest end up in headquarters and administration, life support, or as in our case, logistics. So like many Vietnam era troops we aren't Vietnam Vets, but we were definitely involved. This is our story as I remember it.
Forty years after his own time serving in Vietnam, Gabriel Sauers grapples with an action on the verge of his grandson Seth's deployment to Iraq that will change both their lives forever.
My Detachment is a war story like none you have ever read before, an unromanticized portrait of a young man coming of age in the controversial war that defined a generation. In an astonishingly honest, comic, and moving account of his tour of duty in Vietnam, master storyteller Tracy Kidder writes for the first time about himself. This extraordinary memoir is destined to become a classic. Kidder was an ROTC intelligence officer, just months out of college and expecting a stateside assignment, when his orders arrived for Vietnam. There, lovesick, anxious, and melancholic, he tried to assume command of his detachment, a ragtag band of eight more-or-less ungovernable men charged with reporting on enemy radio locations. He eventually learned not only to lead them but to laugh and drink with them as they shared the boredom, pointlessness, and fear of war. Together, they sought a ghostly enemy, homing in on radio transmissions and funneling intelligence gathered by others. Kidder realized that he would spend his time in Vietnam listening in on battle but never actually experiencing it. With remarkable clarity and with great detachment, Kidder looks back at himself from across three and a half decades, confessing how, as a young lieutenant, he sought to borrow from the tragedy around him and to imagine himself a romantic hero. Unrelentingly honest, rueful, and revealing, My Detachment gives us war without heroism, while preserving those rare moments of redeeming grace in the midst of lunacy and danger. The officers and men of My Detachment are not the sort of people who appear in war movies–they are the ones who appear only in war, and they are unforgettable.
The commanding officer of an infantry battalion in Vietnam in 1969 recounts how he took over a demoralized unit of ordinary draftees and turned it into an elite fighting force, and describes its accomplishments.
