Page 51 - Stand Down Vietnam

While in Vietnam, I had an allotment made out to my
mother. I knew that over there in that jungle there
wasn’t anything to buy, so I sent my money home.

I had enough money to buy a new car. I bought a brand
new, bad boy, four-speed, copper tone color, 1968
Plymouth Roadrunner.

I served in Vietnam and I have PTSD from my
experiences. I was an infantryman. I went on patrols
searching for “Charlie” (Viet Cong). We quickly
learned that Charlie was on patrol looking for us. It
was us or them. Kill or be killed.

Some guys had problems squaring it with their religion,
but for me, I knew what I had to do to survive.

Being born and raised on a farm paid off for me in
Vietnam. I knew how to pay attention to where I was
walking and stepping and how to be quiet.

Being a “short-timer” was a spooky thing. The shorter
my days, the more nervous I became. I remember the day
I left Vietnam. I got on that plane and I was worried
it might get shot out of the air. We held our breath
until the pilot told us we were out of Vietnam
airspace. A big smile and a new breath of air – it was
over – thank you, Jesus. In thirteen months of combat

duty, I got a one-week R&R in Taipei, Taiwan.

I just wish that I wasn’t in the shape I’m in, being in
this wheelchair; I loved running, I ran cross-country
and track in high school. Me and one of my brothers
liked running together.

I moved into Thomson-Hood in 2010, I’ve lived here for
nine years now.