we wore the wrong hat
that summer... even the
oxen smiled
Every day in the
former republic of South Vietnam felt like summer. There were times
when it reached 127 degrees Fahrenheit. The humidity in the Mekong Delta region
was 100%. I remember stepping off of the airliner in Saigon when I began my
tour of duty. It was like walking into a giant sauna. Jungle fatigues with steel
toe combat boots and metal helmets were
standard issue for servicemen stationed in South
Vietnam during the War. it was essential garb, but uncomfortable to wear in
the sweltering weather. The majority of the
citizenry, of course, wore loose fitting silk
pajamas, sandals, and hats to shield their heads from the sun. We were not
accustomed to the weather. Our clothing was
drenched. We drank water, soda, or beer,
every hour on the hour, accompanied by salt tablets. Another reminder that we
were strangers in a strange land.
a rice field
full of ghosts --
listen
The rice field is where many villagers who live in the Mekong Delta region of
the former Republic of South Vietnam spend the majority of their time. Rice is
the main staple, the basis for all meals. For some, the only staple.
A poor nation then and now, farming is done by hand and plow. Machinery and
technology, relegated to textbooks and showcase farms. Planting and harvesting
rice is back breaking work. From sun up to sun down, laborers are bent over
under the hot, humid sun, their hands calloused, their skin like leather.
During the Vietnam War, villagers continued the daily ritual. It was a necessity
of life, more important than a war orchestrated by politicians. Rice fields in
the Mekong Delta are everywhere. Soldiers had to walk through them to get from
one location to another. Aware of that, the Viet Cong placed mines and booby
traps in their enemy's path. Firefights between the Viet Cong and American
soldiers in and around the rice fields were commonplace. More than soil
fertilized the villagers rice crops. If the rice fields could speak...
lift me, dragonfly
out of your namesake's mouth --
winter nears
Serving in Vietnam during the war was a form of gambling. You win, you get to go
home. You lose, you don't. The odds were fifty/fifty. Sometimes, less. When I
first arrived in-country, I felt invincible. I was 18, fresh out of high school,
and didn't know what I was getting myself into. I'd watched the war, like most
Americans, on television sets in wall-to-wall carpeted homes. The images on he
nightly news showed the U.S. military overpowering the enemy. My family and I
rooted for Uncle Sam in between bites of popcorn. This mindset changed the first
time I was fired upon. The War became real. It was no longer something parading
surrealistically in front of me on a glass screen. Bullets whizzed past me.
Metal from exploding mortar shells fell down from the sky. Blood flowed like
water. The adventure was over. I wanted to go home...In one piece.
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