For most of my childhood and early teen years, The Vietnam War was a back story. The Johnson Administration and the military were infusing the American public with out and out lies…proclaiming that we were winning. That unless we stopped the Communist, these Godless crickets, that it would be only a matter of time before they took over our God fearing country.
When Johnson saw that public opinion turn against him and the war, one of our worst presidents ever, decided not to run for re-election and he finally had his people sit down at the table with the Godless Communist and just as they were about to sign a peace treaty a bigger evil than even Johnson secretly entered the negotiations. Behind the back of the current administration, Nixon told the corrupt South Vietnamese Leadership that the peace treaty being negotiated would be the end of their country and the North would have complete control. And so, the negotiations broke down and the second worst President in our country’s history prolonged the war for another four years resulting in the deaths of at least another 26 thousand Americans, hundreds of thousands wounded, and quite possibly the death of a half-a-million innocent Vietnamese.
It was just around 1969 that I remember my parents having one of the only arguments I remember them having. My father told my mother that if this war continued for another ten years, which seemed much more of a possibility than ever, that he would support his sons going to Canada. “That this wasn’t a war worth fighting. That it was all a bunch of lies and it was disgraceful that we were even there.”
My mother, in turn, argued that she “would never allow none of her sons to go to Canada and that the idea that her sons would be looked upon as cowards made her sick.”
In one year’s time, as the coverage of the war increased and our presence in Vietnam didn’t make any rational sense, my mother changed her mind.
Kristin Hannah’s marvelous novel, “The Women,” followed the career and life of Frances McGrath and her girlfriends who volunteered as nurses in Vietnam. They experienced the horror, they held in their hands the livers, hearts, and decapitated arms and legs of dying soldiers. They treated the severely wounded and helped save the lives of countless soldiers and civilians. They passed by the countless body bags piled up outside the morgue as they made their way to the outdoor showers and
latrines. They knew war, because they lived war.
After returning to the states they were spit on, and when they told people they were Vietnam vets the usual reply was, “No you’re not. Only men are over there.” Actually, nearly ten thousand women served in Vietnam and a number of them were killed. It took years after the war was over for their honorable and courageous service to be finally recognized.
“The Women,” by Kristin Hannah tells their story through the fabulously detailed, fully developed character of Frances McGrath and it is a story that I strongly recommend.
A Curious View 