Dear America: Letters Home from Vietnam Page #4

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but their number

is growing,

and they are starting

to take more positive actions.

On Saturday,

a march to show solidarity

with American servicemen

in Vietnam was held in New York City.

The marchers carried

American flags.

Flags were hung

from apartment house windows.

Against this background

the battle continues,

and in it this week,

274 Americans were killed,

1,748 wounded,

18 listed as missing.

There's no end to the war

in sight.

"Dear Ma,

Vietnam has my feelings

on a seesaw.

This country is

so beautiful.

When the sun is shining

on the mountains,

farmers in their rice paddies

with their water buffalo,

and palm trees,

monkeys, birds,

and even

the strange insects,

for a fleeting moment

I'm not in a war zone at all,

just on vacation.

But still missing you

and the family.

There are a few kids

who hang around,

some with no parents.

I feel so sorry

for them.

I do things to make them laugh,

and they call me 'dinky dau.'

That means crazy."

- Okay!

- Okay!

"I hope that's one reason

why we're here,

to secure

a future for them.

Your son, George."

"Dear Mom and Dad,

you know that joke about

how hard it is to tell

the good guys

from the bad guys over here?

Well, it's funny in Bronxville

or Dorset, but it isn't over here.

The enemy in our area

of operation

is a farmer by day

and V.C. by night.

Every man we pick up says,

'Me Vietnamese number one.

V.C. number 10.'

So we have to let him go.

By the way,

number one means real good,

and number 10

means real bad.

Other handy phrases are:

'titi,' very little;,

'boo koo,'

which means very much;

'didi mow,'

get out of here.

What more do you need

to know?"

Didi mow.

Go, go.

"Love always, Mike."

Roger.

1st Battalion's coming in.

All right!

Come on, get out of here.

Come on, get up!

"Dear Red,

the frightening thing

about it all

is that it's so very easy

to kill in war.

There's no remorse,

no theatrical washing of the hands

to get rid of non-existent blood,

not even any regrets.

Get killed because

that little son of a b*tch

is doing his best

to kill you?

When it happens you're more afraid

than you've ever been in your life.

And you desperately

want to live

to go home,

to get drunk,

or walk down the street

on a date again."

"Dear Mom and Dad,

1st Cavalry moved in here

a few weeks ago,

and what a rowdy bunch.

These guys have been out

in the mud in the boonies for months.

They just wandered around

staring at everything,

trying out all

the chairs,

flushing the toilets.

It was funny to watch."

"But I guess when you've had

to do without clean clothes,

good food and shelter

for as long as they have

you might believe

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