The Letter I Forgot to Write

It was back in 1966. I had just volunteered for a tour in Viet Nam. My wife was not very happy though she supported me in my choice.
What I needed to do was write my Mother. It may sound silly to have to write MOM at the age of 28 years, yet it was what I felt. I had kept in contact with Mom when any major event was to occur. She had learned when both my daughters were born. When will I called her. She was at the top of my notification list. Here I was getting ready to let her know I had just volunteered to fight in a war that was just building in a place called Viet Nam. A place no one in my family had any idea why we were there at all. A place that could send my young life to an end. I tried to write that damn letter for 3 months.
On the day I left Colorado for the west coast to join my unit for advanced training in China Lake, California. The letter was still not written. China Lake was over and we were to be deployed to Nam in two days. I wrote letters to my wife, my sister, and a couple of close friends… but not Mom. Forget the coming events. Forget that my wife and my sister knew what was ahead for me. Forget the idea that I had made a stupid decision (at least from my sister’s viewpoint). Sis thought I was a coward for not facing Moms bracing if and when she found out. An ostrich I was and where I was going to stay, where my Mom was concerned.
Mom found out not only where I was but also how long I had been there. First, she tried to get me sent back to the states. When that did not work, she wrote to the chaplain service for help to save her ONLY son. That did not work either. Lastly but not gently, she finally wrote me and when I received the letter, we had just returned from a nasty run up river to My Loc.
It was somewhat funny, a hard to read letter from Mom and a tube filled with pop corn hiding a fifth of scotch. I could feel her crying and feeling lost because of my non-letter. By the time all this happened, I was keel deep in a not so friendly war. We were always heading out to recover some one or some group not able to get back from their mission. Too busy to write Mom a proper letter. I did get off a letter telling her of the excitement I was enjoying. I told her I was on a river and near a great beach to swim and sun bathe. Then I tried to keep her up on what generally was happening. One time she received a letter what had a bit blacked out. What a fuss that one made. Over the next two tours, the letters became less and less specific and less frequent. It seemed my life was much too busy staying or at least trying to stay alive. Doing battle from the deck of a small riverboat, I like trying to be an Eagle when in reality I was a small wood duck waiting for the claws to close in.
By the time I came home, all was forgotten and forgiven. My wife noticed the change in me. The loss of spontaneous smiles and the dark cloud in my everyday mood. Our life together was strained and I was looking for counseling from nearly the beginning of life on his side of the pond.
We would talk about returning to the REAL WORLD. Well, from my point of view, the real world sucked and was ten times more dangerous than The Nam. At least there, we knew whom not to trust. Damn near everyone. The best way to stay alive was to shoot the problem. Then it went away. If another problem occurred, pop and it went away. Sort of simple but somewhat effective. The problem was, the person who cut your hair in the barbershop by day was out to kill you at night. Kids could not be trusted either. Back here in THE REAL WORLD, we were unarmed and what we learned over there was forbidden here in the good old U.S. of A.
You know, I still wish I had never written that letter to MOM, even today.