cincibuck
You kids stay off my lawn!
Remembering SanAntonioBuck.
To KSBuck, ArtyBuck, ArmyBuck, Scooter... all the veterans on this site. This is our day and I salute you all.
T - Shirt
I bought a T-shirt at a tent next to The Wall in November of 1984.
Across the top, in bold letters, it read:
PARTICIPANT
South East Asia War Games
And underneath, a medal and the words
SECOND PLACE
There was a map of Vietnam in the background.
A line ran through it like the bar in the middle of a fraction,
cutting the land in half.
I'd look at the map before putting the shirt on
I'd start at that place we called the DMZ,
where fraternity brother,
Marine Lieutenant Al Lofton,
was shot down,
his chopper exploding into flames.
Dead less than thirty days into his tour,
leaving a war bride back in Toledo.
I'd see a dot that marked Da Nang..
where my neighbor and fellow college prankster,
Specialist Bob Fox,
spent his nights listening to the enemy talk to their soldiers in the South.
When he came home the jokes and laughter were gone from his voice,
replaced with a bitter cynicism.
Next came the thin central part of the country,
the area where my junior high teammate,
Private First Class Doug Knott,
was killed.
I remember how the coach used to scream,
"Get after it Doug! Be aggressive out there!"
But Doug could not find it in himself.
He was happy just to be out there,
just to be playing.
I still wonder what he was doing with a rifle in his hands.
Down to Lai Khe and Saigon where I spent my year.
A place where the memories flood and meld.
I thought the shirt was funny.
It helped me laugh at things that were too painful to remember:
the stuff they didn't tell us we would experience:
flag draped coffins,
the morphine faces of the wounded,
the weight of letters from home
the way the sight of a legless boot gets inside your head,
the long way home.
I did not understand how a year of boredom,
punctuated by seconds of terror,
would become the most important in my life.
A friend, a well-meaning war protestor, wanted my shirt.
She wanted the "Second Place,"
the I-told-you-so part,
I wouldn't give her the shirt,
but I couldn't wear it anymore either.
To KSBuck, ArtyBuck, ArmyBuck, Scooter... all the veterans on this site. This is our day and I salute you all.
T - Shirt
I bought a T-shirt at a tent next to The Wall in November of 1984.
Across the top, in bold letters, it read:
PARTICIPANT
South East Asia War Games
And underneath, a medal and the words
SECOND PLACE
There was a map of Vietnam in the background.
A line ran through it like the bar in the middle of a fraction,
cutting the land in half.
I'd look at the map before putting the shirt on
I'd start at that place we called the DMZ,
where fraternity brother,
Marine Lieutenant Al Lofton,
was shot down,
his chopper exploding into flames.
Dead less than thirty days into his tour,
leaving a war bride back in Toledo.
I'd see a dot that marked Da Nang..
where my neighbor and fellow college prankster,
Specialist Bob Fox,
spent his nights listening to the enemy talk to their soldiers in the South.
When he came home the jokes and laughter were gone from his voice,
replaced with a bitter cynicism.
Next came the thin central part of the country,
the area where my junior high teammate,
Private First Class Doug Knott,
was killed.
I remember how the coach used to scream,
"Get after it Doug! Be aggressive out there!"
But Doug could not find it in himself.
He was happy just to be out there,
just to be playing.
I still wonder what he was doing with a rifle in his hands.
Down to Lai Khe and Saigon where I spent my year.
A place where the memories flood and meld.
I thought the shirt was funny.
It helped me laugh at things that were too painful to remember:
the stuff they didn't tell us we would experience:
flag draped coffins,
the morphine faces of the wounded,
the weight of letters from home
the way the sight of a legless boot gets inside your head,
the long way home.
I did not understand how a year of boredom,
punctuated by seconds of terror,
would become the most important in my life.
A friend, a well-meaning war protestor, wanted my shirt.
She wanted the "Second Place,"
the I-told-you-so part,
I wouldn't give her the shirt,
but I couldn't wear it anymore either.
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