Facts and Parables: Vietnam Remembrance

Facts and Parables: Vietnam Remembrance
by Diane Alden

FACTS ARE SUPPOSED to be solid and indisputable truths not subject to dispute. Facts are hard, fast and cold which no amount of emotional or irrational analysis can manipulate into being untrue, even though some will attempt it. The Facts of Vietnam are:

58,148 were killed in Vietnam.
The average age was 23.11 years.
50,274 were enlisted.
6,598 were officers.
11, 465 were less than 20 years old.
Average age for Vietnam infantryman was 19 years. World War II soldier was 26 years.
The average infantryman in the South Pacific during World War II saw about 40 days of combat in four years. In Vietnam it was about 240 days.
91 percent of Vietnam Veterans say they are glad they served.
74 percent said they would serve again even knowing the outcome.
From 1957 to 1973 the National Liberation Front assassinated 36,725 South Vietnamese and abducted 58,499. Death squads focused on leaders which included school teachers and minor officials.
Numbers of North Vietnamese killed, approximately - 500,000 to 600,000. Casualties: 15 million.
Two thirds of the men who served in Vietnam were volunteers, 2/3 who served in World War II were draftees.
The Tet 68 offensive was a major defeat for - the VC and the NVA.
After Vietnam the Philippines, Indonesia, Malaysia, Singapore, Thailand managed to stay free of Communism. The Indonesians expelled the Soviets in 1966.
During the Vietnam War the national debt increased by $146 billion dollars (1967 -1973) Adjusted for inflation the debt in 1992 dollars was $500 billion.
From 1989 - 1995 the national debt increased by $2360 billion - in a time of peace.

These are the cold bare facts. But the parable or meaning of Vietnam isn't told by statistics, it lives in those who served. The moral of the story has to do with the young men and women who chose to serve a country which turned its back on them. Myth says that those who obeyed the call of duty later became alcoholics and drug addicts in disproportionate numbers; or that they became convicts and unproductive suicidal losers. Others, so the myth goes, are homeless, living on the streets of big cities or holed up in the mountains of Idaho.

The facts indicate otherwise. Most vets lead productive and exemplary lives. Most have jobs and families and pay taxes. The beloved statistics and reputable studies of the number crunchers say this is so.

But what is really important in this day and age is that each man or woman who served has a unique story. Modern parables are being chronicled so that generations of young people may learn and be proud of their American heritage.

A Parable: The Tunnel

The following story is true as told by my friend, Lt. Colonel (ret) Robert Keller of events which took place when he was a young Second Lieutenant with a Special Forces A Team in Vietnam:

I was with the 5th Special Forces Operations group located in north-central Vietnam between Kham Duc and Chu Lai. I was in charge of a contingent of Vietnamese soldiers called the Strikers. For 16 months I lived in their village eating and drinking with them.

The company had consolidated its position around the hooch of two Vietnamese women. These ladies had been interred many times in the Chu Lai relocation project but always managed to run away. They claimed they farmed forty hectares in the Phouc Chou Valley. What made the story doubtful was that one had one leg and the other one arm, making subsistence farming very difficult. The valley was the breadbasket of the 2nd NVA Division (North Vietnamese Army) and rice fields were everywhere.

Several of my CIDG (Civilian Irregular Defense Group) came to me to show the tunnel they found. The hole was about three feet in diameter. None of us had tunneling experience as no tunnels were supposed to be in our area of operations.

I could have sent one of the Vietnamese down the hole but there are certain times one has to be a leader and this was one of them.

I checked the sides and bottom for possible booby traps and decided I could at least get into the five foot deep entrance way. Whether I might get my feet shot out from under me was a different matter. I lowered myself down

The hole - scared spit-less. However, at least no one shot at me.

I clicked the selector of my CAR-15 to full auto and knelt down to begin the tunnel search. It seemed that the darkness in the tunnel sucked up the flashlight beam within several feet. I began to crawl forward into extreme darkness thinking of snakes, animals and the possibility I would stay down there forever. It was tomb-like and hopefully would not become mine. It was so quiet I thought I could hear an air compressor running and then realized it was my breathing.

I kept crawling forward, checking the tunnel floor for booby traps and critters. I found several small rooms or chambers off to the side of the main tunnel but no side tunnels. The more I crawled forward the more confident I became.

I was down in the tunnel for about thirty minutes taking my time and being thorough. Up ahead, I saw a light shining down from overhead. I was thrilled my ordeal was coming to an end - or was it? If I stuck my head out would someone blow it off. Where was I? In front of our position or within it?

When I got to the tunnel entrance I waved my hands and started yelling but nothing happened. I felt nothing but relief as I pulled myself up out of the hole and no one fired at me.

I still didn't know where I was but finally determined that I had gone in a horseshoe and wasn't too far from where I had started. I looked over to the entrance hole and noticed a number of CIDG yelling excitedly down the abyss.

What an opportunity!

I came up behind them and then moved to the front of the group and began to yell down the hole too. It took about 30 seconds for the Strikers to realize what was happening and they all started laughing too. Pointing at me they thought the incident was great fun.

I don't know what happened to them after I left.

A Moral to the Story:

Firefights, mortar rounds, the stench of decay and human flesh torn and broken, the camaraderie and bonds of men at war were part and parcel of the Major's experience. But some things one remembers more than others. The stories which make fear a laughing matter are often remembered because that is the only way to cope.

But the thing Major Bob remembers most, the thing he carries with him forever are the Vietnamese he left behind - the ones who counted on an American promise that they would never be left to themselves. That is what he remembers most - a broken promise to his comrades.

Well, Bob Keller and others like him never broke any promises. Our government in its arrogance and foolish miscalculation did. Perhaps they were promises which should never have been made. Perhaps it would be wise to be careful in the future about the ones we do make because when we don't keep them - we betray men like Lt. Colonel Robert Keller.

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