Of Things Small and Important

Friday, May 23rd, 2008, was destined to be a memorable day. My son, Connor, was off to Disneyland, participating in a high school choir festival. He is a gift to me and he loves music. He is a talented musician, vocalist, and composer. My partner, Linda, and I had cleared our calendars months in advance for the Memorial Day holiday and, coupled with Connor’s trip to southern California, we had scheduled a four day respite from the work of launching the Ridgefield Institute onto the national stage. I decided to do an early Friday morning e-mail check before shutting down all business channels for the long holiday weekend. Among the e-mails from the University, students, and clients was an e-mail with the subject “Request for Information” from an unfamiliar source. At the ready to delete, un-read, my instincts guided me to open it. It started, “Hello, my name is Alan Van Dan, and I believe we served together in Vietnam.” I was stunned! And I immediately remembered the name and the man from 40 years earlier.

Vietnam vets differed from the veterans of other modern wars. At 12 years duration, Vietnam was our nation’s longest war and had three distinct phases. The war ended without the national satisfaction of victory and the soldiers who served there were much younger than the combatants of previous wars. That, and other factors, led to an invisibility and isolation as the unwanted companions to returning veterans. The young soldiers who shared such depth as brothers in arms returned to build civilian lives without the benefit of fellowship, understanding, gratitude, and national embrace.

For me, the return home was difficult. War protests, villianization of the veterans, undiagnosed and untreated post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) were joined by physical injury, disturbed sleep, night sweats, and unending horrific images of war. I struggled, silently and alone, for 17 years, until I was diagnosed with PTSD and began to receive some therapeutic assistance.

Now a flood of memories, images, and updated histories were made known to me through a torrent of e-mails. Names of men I loved and admired – were brought back to my consciousness. Histories were updated. Divorces, strong women who stayed.  Careers, children, and grand children were reported. In the course of a week forty years of experience were added to the history of these courageous young men and their service to country. The small band of brothers were now surrounded by a greater community of family and friends. One soldier kept a poem I had written at 19 years old. We all had nicknames in Viet Nam combat units, mine was the poet. As I read the poem I was taken by how insightful and contemporary one passage was:

…but I came and tried to do my share so now I die, but they don’t care
By them, I mean those who sent me here
Back at home they have no fear
They push the buttons and pull the strings
They care not of the terrible things
That I had to do and I had seen
And what terrible agony war had been…

  

I have been very distressed since March, 2003, and the U.S. invasion of Iraq. The similarities with Vietnam are striking. The pretext to war, misleading of the U.S. public, manipulation of the media, terrible sacrifice on the part of the few, and a largely uncaring response from the citizens back home.

The only thing that has changed between Vietnam and the war in Iraq is the identity of the “they” lamented in my 40 year old poem. Now it is a president who didn’t serve in his generations’ war and a vice-president who wrangled five deferments from active military service of any type, even domestic reserve duty. The president’s “bring it on” comment rings hollow from a man who didn’t have the courage to face “it” in his youth and his strutting “mission accomplished” image is exposed for the counterfeit bravado of a non-combatant posing as commander-in-chief.

Generally, this blog relates significant experiences to small business ownership. But that will be absent in this missive. Instead, I urge you to increase your awareness of the veterans among you and actively work to increase your awareness of what is happening in the Middle East. Move past the rhetoric and seek authentic truth. If you are living a life of present-mindedness and renewal, you are both author and editor of your life’s story. Call up similarities in these wars and hold our leaders accountable for their actions. Bring home our soldiers. Give them the care and respect warranted by their courage and sacrifice. Their lives are forever marked by war. Do not let yours be marked by indifference.

Mother Theresa counseled that, “We cannot do great things in this world, we can only do small things with great love.” I have been reminded this past week of the small things done with great love by the young soldiers of Company C, 1st Battalion, 12th Cavalry Regiment, First Air Cavalry Division in the jungles of Vietnam 40 years ago. Their actions went unnoted by the history books, their towns people didn’t stand up and cheer their arrival home, and often, even family and friends didn’t understand. But each of them know, and their brothers stand in quiet witness, to their great courage and sacrifice, and, yes, their nobility, on that small stage, far away, and long ago. Thank you, brothers! And thank you, Alan and Tweek, for leading me to the last mile home.

Be joyous! Let now be beautiful. Blessings, Thomas.

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