One of the most unique and historically accurate books you will ever read on what our American fighting men endured during the Vietnam War. From a journal that sat on a Marine’s bookshelf for years, comes a book that offers a powerful, intimate and rare look at the transformation from a world of innocence, into the reality of struggles, hardship, tears, and the sorrows of war. This is not a typical war story, but a story of war, of fear, honor, courage, commitment, and American values at War.
Excerpts from the Book
I was now beginning to understand the pains and the sorrows of war, but there was also another side that only those who have shared blood and guts in battle understood.
Many believe that war’s appetite is violence and it can only be appeased with death and destruction. But war also gives birth to respect, honor, glory, and shame. Those who fight for life can be full of compassion in times of suffering and pain and that often fosters trust, care, and hope amidst death and destruction.
War often cultivates friendship and love among those fighting and dying in the midst of chaos and devastation. Although friendships could be ended quickly, I was beginning to realize that one of the most cherished gifts to come out of war was the friendship it produced. War dispenses this gift of friendship and love to those who have shared its pain, sorrow, and joy in times of conflict and in victory. It does this whether we want it or not.
There was a profound disturbance present when we settled in for the night.
The full moon overhead, added to the gloom and loneliness we all felt. Second Platoon had suffered most, in the battle. Some of those men had experienced hopelessness, felt helpless, and suffered the depressing consequences of war.
We stood watch while others slept then slept while others stood watch, but it was an uneasy sleep. Some slept for only minutes while others didn’t sleep at all.
The memories of the day and of our dead and wounded was still very real in our hearts and minds. We had all experienced and witnessed war at its front door. We had felt distress at seeing Marines killed or wounded. It was baptism by fire for many of us. We were no longer young and inexperienced men, but Marines who had been scared, experienced deep fear, faced death and had fought back.
We had done what men have done since the beginning of time: we had met the enemy on the battlefield of life and death and had survived. Our doubts about war and manhood, fear and courage, had been met in the fields of fire and we had performed as was expected of us. The proud and the brave were among us, so were the fearful and humbled; we were one and the same. We were men of war and many of us had also conquered the fear of uncertainty. It was the sorrow, fear, and the pain of war that made us a united military fighting unit that day. While we didn’t look forward to what tomorrow would bring, we no longer feared that we might not respond to the battle cry.
“Hey, Cuch,” Prescott said, “yeah,” Chief answered.
“I was scared.” Cuch looked over at the Marine. “I was scared, so I hid right after Stringbeans was hit. I fell backwards when he was hit, and when the gooks ran right by me, I hid in the bushes.”
“At least, you’re alive,” Chief said, and with that, Prescott took in a long sigh, and returned his thoughts to the battle before them.
We fought for democracy and for a dream that was obtainable by the people of Vietnam. We felt honored to have served our country, to have been given the opportunity in life to be more than a witness to history.
If we failed, it was not because we did not do our duty; it was because others entrusted with higher responsibilities failed to do theirs.
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