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Index Page » Art & Creative » Prose & Poetry
 

Vietnam the Country

 

Much like any other country under the siege of war, South Vietnam back then in the early 70's was no different, that is, it was underdeveloped, lacked good healthy food for its population [yet its Army always seemed to be feed well], to include vegetables and dairy products, and so forth. That is to say, the cities, towns, villages all had shortages of everything, water, electrical power, you name it they had it under a shortage category, --but much like Germany, there was an ongoing black market, --where you could buy anything. If you couldn't find it at the PX, you could at the black market.

As far as we went, the Army that is, we never had hot water up to the 4th month I was there, and then when we got it, it was like a prize, yet in most cases the rain water was warmer, or warm enough, and many of us soldiers just got naked and grabbed a bar of soap and washed in the rain.

On another note, I was good friends with the cooks, and like anyone who had something to offer in trade, they would trade. And so, sometimes I'd go in the back of the mess hall and do my bartering.

Ken the Cook

Ken was 19-year old; he was one of the four main cooks. He happened to have gotten a cute little Vietnamese girl pregnant, and had extended for six more months; it would be his ETS date [meaning, his date to get out of the Army]. He did that for two reasons, one for his girlfriend, for he was confused on the matter of trying to marry her and take her home, and the second was, if he went back to the states with six months to go, where would he go. And so instead of battling the unknown, he stayed put, still as a statue, and when it was time to leave, he'd simply go home.

He came up to me one night and was real puzzled. He brought a few letters from his mother and father, asked me to read them, and so I did. It implied he should not marry the girl of whom he had a child with and simply come home and start his life. That he was much too young to settle down. He asked for my opinion. It was hard to even want to give it, I liked him, but I also liked his small young girlfriend. She was always quite timid, and frail looking, but nice and friendly. She'd had made any man a good wife I think.

Asked Ken [on the verge of tears] "What should I do Chick," worrying of displeasing his parents.

"Do you love her?" I asked, or "...is she just a good time away from home, someone you got pregnant and, oh, well, things happen?"

He said [wide-eyed and stunned], "A little of all that," his voice tiring, as his mind seemed to have gone over it for the hundred time.

"It sounds to me," I said [sarcastically], "As if you have made up your mind to please your parents; or maybe they are making it easy for you to do what you all really want to do."

[Offended] Ken asked,

"And what is that," adding, "... would you"would you mind telling me?"

"A reason to leave her; tell her you will be back to get her and not really come back, or send for her." He looked at me strange,

"Yaw that may be it, is that ok?"

"No," I said, "That is not ok, unless you feel you are at least going to try; plus, you're in Vietnam, in the Army, your parents are not in charge of you anymore. You are not too young to die for your country, and therefore, you are not too young to make a decision. You can't have her waiting for you though, thinking you are coming and you're not. She can find someone else; you're not the only one in the world." Not sure if he liked that or not, but he responded well.

[Optimistically"his tone of voice sounded] "Ok, I'm going to be up front with her and tell her I think it will not work out, that I'm going home and try to figure things out. And no matter what I come up with, I'll always support my child." I smiled, nodded my head, and commented, "Make sure it's your decision, because you'll have to pay for it all your life." He then stood up; we were sitting on the boardwalk across from the mess hall where the hutches were. He had the night shift and went back to work.

Author: Dennis Siluk
 
Author Bio:

Dennis Siluk

Writing is more than a hobby for me. It's a passion, one of the ways I capture and celebrate life.

 
 
 

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