War in Vietnam

On 29 March, 1973, the last American combat troops left Vietnam, ending the direct involvement of the United States in the Vietnam War. Several thousand civilian Defense Department employees stayed on in Vietnam after the withdrawal of troops. The last of these Americans were airlifted out of the country when Saigon fell to the Communists on April 30, 1975.

Cherry Boy Comes Home from the War

When I came back to the states from Vietnam on 7 February 1968, DEROSing at Oakland Army Terminal from midnight to six in the morning, I was hoping my entire family would be in Stockton to greet me. Only my mother met me at the bus terminal. Naturally, I was pleased to see her, but I was bitterly disappointed that no one else had accompanied her. I didn't have a girlfriend because in Basic Training she had written me the proverbial Dear John letter. There wasn't a protester or, for that matter, an army recruiter at the terminal either. I had gotten a letter shortly before I left Camp Bearcat forewarning me that a "Welcome Home Party" was being arranged. I yearned to hear the cheers and yells from my loved ones, feel the pats and slaps on my back, the hands grasping hands, the lips touching lips, the words "We're so glad you made it back alive and in one piece" that I dreamt of it for days. I almost forgot the mortar attacks and the sniper rounds. I was in a state of short timer's frenzy. I pictured a humongous party on the 4th of February, the date I was supposed to arrive. Like all good signs born under a bad sign, the '68 Tet ruined my homecoming. On the fourth of February, swarms of Viet Cong endeavored to come through Long Binh Bien Hoa's perimeter of concertina wire to get our unarmed, young butts. I had already turned in my weapon and the rest of my gear earlier during processing. Their smoldering bodies--fresh from barrage after barrage of Willie Peter rounds--lay contorted, spread eagled, and fused to their fate, symbolic of man's ability to efface man from the planet. Was it their death or my own spiritual one that created the indifference I feel now?

It's been twenty-four years since the Nam and a little over five years since my mother died. Now, a homecoming party that never happened is nothing more than an old memory, a roll of film never developed.

Victor H. Bausch earned his master's degree in English from California State University, Stanislaus, and his master's degree in Library Science from San Jose State University. His work has appeared in Slipstream, The South Florida Poetry Review, Touchstone Literary Journal, Prophetic Voices: Anthology of War and Peace; Tour of Duty: Vietnam in the Words of Those Who Were There, and others. He is a Viet Nam veteran (1967-68), a member of Veterans for Peace, and works as a reference librarian at Monterey Public Library.