Good Morning.
I am watching the Ken Burns' film series about the war in Vietnam. As a twenty-something person when the war was
being waged, I considered by-passing the series in favor of happier viewing but decided it was important to have
another look at a time in history that remains deeply controversial.
My husband and I spent a long, difficult hour at the Vietnam Memorial in 2005. I couldn't begin to identify with what he was feeling as someone who had been on a ship in the midst of the conflict for three years, especially since I'd long ago decided the war was a catastrophic mistake, but I was gratified that we'd been there together, even though it was gut-wrenching for him that men he knew had died and for me that anyone had to die at all.
Vietnam tore the country to shreds. There were protesters against every war, either on general pacifist principle or for reasons related to a specific conflict, but something was different about Vietnam. Many felt compelled to serve or support
the war without question, but almost as many felt it was unjustifiable or unwinnable, that the cost in human life was immoral, and that the billions of dollars required to pay for it would be better spent on humanitarian efforts or basic services at home.
"Make love, not war," the signs read, as young adults, many of them highly intelligent and from responsible parents, left their nice homes or college dorms to demonstrate, whether they were sober, stoned, or singing the folk music that captured the
frustration of the time. Some of them sported long hair and beads and drove to their rallies in beat-up vans. Others in button-down shirts and khakis figured out how to get exempted from military service, hid out from draft boards through underground networks, and if all else failed, fled to Canada. Meanwhile the obviously more enlightened sat around in their suburban havens, sipping on cocktails so the evening news with footage of bombings and body bags wouldn't be as hard to swallow.
The war turned family members against each other. The churches also got into the discussion with some of them calling for an end to the hostilities and many from their congregations angry about such brazen preaching, even when the war involved the burning of innocent civilians with napalm and the trashing of a country's natural habitat with Agent Orange. As my husband once chided me about a different matter, nobody likes being told what to think, even you, my dear. True enough.
The demonstrations connected to the 1968 Democratic convention and plenty of other venues were bloody and violent with
the protesters determined to be heard even if it meant being painfully restrained by authorities. The war went on for several
more years after that and ultimately was lost after fifty-eight thousand American lives were sacrificed and scores of others came home with injuries that would affect their well-being for the rest of their days on earth. They were not welcomed back to American soil warmly, even by the people who supported the war, because everyone was so exhausted from the horrific toll it had taken on the country. Today we thank people who are willing to do battle for us and they surely deserve our gratitude, but we are just as divided - about dozens of issues - as we were back then and perhaps even more vocal and angry. Thus it shall probably always be, but it hurts.
Best regards,
Elisabeth
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