It started in August of 1964. I should have known that it would eventually engulf me, because it’s official start date in the history books now, was my 16th birthday. In the beginning I didn’t pay too much attention to the noise being generated by it.
There was a lot going on in August of 1964. As a nation we were just nine months out from the assassination of JFK. The shock of which had “knocked the wind” out of the psyche of American youth. For me personally, I was still numb, I felt like my dreams were on hold. I had just started a new school and was busy trying to fit in. Clashes between Blacks and Whites were happening in the some of the major cities, even though Rev Martin Luther King was speaking out against violence. There were no black students attending my school, so for the moment I could escape the inevitable decisions that were being called for by many pastors, from their pulpits. A since of dred and uncertainty hung over our community like a thick fog that would not dissipate. Just a year ago, President Kennedy was on TV challenging people my age, to think for ourselves, sacrifice for the common good, and believe in something deeper than self gratification. Now, it all seemed like a collective national train wreck that had no end.
Just as I was driving home from getting my driver’s license, I heard on the car radio that It had happened. We had been attacked by North Vietnam in the Gulf of Tonkin and the United States may be going to war. It didn’t come like World War II, where we were minding our own business as a country and the Japanese attacked us. It came through the back door, after months of sending US Army advisors and Naval Ships for support, to the area around South Vietnam.
I wasn’t really bothered by the news, I was only sixteen and I was not required to register for the Selective Service until my 18th Birthday, 2 years away. It would be over by then, I had assumed. However, I was concerned with the general mood of most of my friends. It was like the collective switch had been turned off on our optimism. Slowly our attention began to be diverted from the fun of going to the prom and buying our first used car, to thinking about our future.
Now, looming in the back of most young men’s mind, was the nagging fear that getting drafted to go to War, was a very real possibility. Just like it was for most of our parents, when they were growing up. It was in their minds too, especially the Moms. For the last ten years America had enjoyed un-mitigated peace and prosperity. Moms and Dads had just began to dream as well. They had dreamed that that seriousness that had pervaded their lives when they were teenagers, would not invade their children’s lives. Most parents, had lived virtually their whole formative years with either a World Depression or a World War. Now here it was, back again, a “National Fear”. The potential for disaster was not lost on newspaper columnists and TV news anchors. For some reason some of them had taken the responsibility upon themselves to predict the worst. All of a sudden growing up in the sixties had taken a serious turn.
For me, I didn’t really pay attention to the news. I was more interested in the shorter hemlines on teenage girl’s skirts and the longer hair being sported by the rock and roll group from London, The Beatles. Typically sixteen, I was avoiding for the moment, any responsibility that made me think toward the future. I had a job after school at Pizza King, a girlfriend who loved the same things I did and I was vice president of the Spanish Club. Things were looking up for me at my new school and I was not really interested in getting serious about anything.
Looking back at August of 1964, I guess I was in the majority, when it came to the attitude of most 16 year old boys that summer. But, I also realize that it was the last carefree summer of my life. By Spring, guys that I had gone to my high school had been killed in Vietnam. Their names were being displayed on a scroll on the CBS Nightly News on television. It had invaded my life and would never again leave. Within three years, I would be on my way to Vietnam involuntarily, while leaving my wife and baby daughter back at home trying to exist on my Army paycheck of $75.00 per month. For the rest of my life, the concept of “fair” would not be in my vocabulary. I did develop a saying which I still employ today. “The Good News is…. but the Bad news is….” while I was trying to minimize the unfortunate circumstances, that I often found myself in. In the summer of 1964, I was just one of 2.7 million young men and women who would eventually serve in The Republic of South Vietnam. The experience would never be far from my thoughts. It defined who I am today.
The Good News is… I lived through Vietnam, ….but The Bad News is… I lived through Vietnam.