Long Overdue

I just watched the movie, First Blood. It's been a long time. The name “Rambo” has since become cliché to mean “Cheesy Action Hero”. But the first movie in the series was pretty good in my opinion. Regarding Vietnam vets, it was on point.

When the draft was discontinued, I was sixteen years old. I slipped in under the wire. At the time, I was thrilled to pieces about it. By the time I graduated high school, men (?) that were fortunate enough to survive the conflict were stateside for two years by then and still struggling to fit into society.

I remember sitting on my patio some time shortly after graduation. My cousin, Steve (Col. Steven V. Boylan, Ret.) was visiting us that day. I'd been doing my music thing that I talked about in a previous blog, but still trying to “find my way”. I casually mentioned to Steve that I'd been thinking about him, and also that my dad was in the Army and perhaps I should look into it as well. Steve looked me square in the eye and said, “You're not Army material, Chris.” Good advice. I wasn't. The Army isn't something you sign up for because you can't “find yourself”, it's a serious commitment to serve your country. If you're looking to find yourself, join the Peace Corp.

I'd been living in a house in the Baywood section of Brick NJ along with my bandmates. A guy named Wayne used to couch there often, and I would sometimes engage in conversation with him. He had very long wavy hair, full beard and mustach. He always dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and like the rest of us at the time, held a place of honor as Beer Drinkers for the US Olympic Team.

I don't remember how the conversation came about, but it was about our involvement in Vietnam. The conversation became a little heated when I was saying something to the order of “We didn't belong there in the first place”. Wayne got up, grabbed me by the shirt collar and threw me up against the wall. He put his face about an inch away from mine as he shouted at me telling me that I didn't know what I was talking about, in so many words – along with some colorful metaphors. I can still remember the smell of his beer breath and the feel of his spit hitting me in the face. His eyes were filled with rage as he continued to scream at me, all the while his fists digging into my neck so I couldn't breath. I don't remember ever being more afraid of anyone in my life.

After a while we cooled off, sat down and had another beer together. I asked Wayne to tell me a bit about his time in Vietnam. He told me some light-hearted stories of his experiences, and then – reluctantly - told me of some not-so-light hearted accounts of what happened to him and his buddies over there. I wasn't prepared to hear such things. Who is? I was sheltered completely from any of the events he spoke of – safe and comfortable with my little life in Dear Ol' Breton Woods.

Some of these guys are walking among us today. Perhaps you know about their service to our country, perhaps you don't. But they're there. If you happen to know someone who served in Vietnam, or any other war for that matter, make it a point to tell them how much you appreciate their service. They didn't do what they did to “find themselves”, they did it to protect you and your way of life you all now enjoy. Perhaps they might be persuaded to sit down and tell you a bit of their experiences overseas. Perhaps not. But at the very least - have a beer with them and tell them, “Thanks, man.”

A West Point graduate, my cousin Steven served in Vietnam, then continued his service moving on to bigger and better things. He retired a full bird Colonel and now resides in Germany along with his wife, his children and his grandchildren. I can honestly say, that he is one of the finest men I've ever known and that I'm so very proud to call him my cousin.

Steve, this is very long overdue, but... Thanks man. You too, Wayne – wherever you are.