vietnam veterans
LYN LIFSHIN
We didnąt remember right
away, it seemed like
fantasy. I wrote about
delivering a baby and
another nurse, John,
said I donąt remember
that, you must have
been fantasizing. Then,
we saw a slide of him
holding the baby
•
I started the book
because I had to give
up drinking. Iąd seen
An Officer and a Genlteman,
I thought it was a good
movie but that I had a
lot more to say. Got a
Bic pen and a yellow pad,
thought Iąd put on some
sixties music, write a
page a day. Some days
I didnąt write at all
but when I got 120
pages I sent it to New
York, couldnąt believe
that tho no one would
let me talk about Nam,
now I was getting paid
to write it down
•
I gave up punching out
people and started
punching a typewriter.
I gave it to my wife
to put on the word
processor. Weąd been
married 18 years and I
never taked about it.
She said her fingers shook
•
For me, the hardest
part is the traige. Who
I had to let die.
I see the name
on the wall and
donąt know who
I might have
let go
•
we used a can
opener for tracheotomies
Those that screamed
loudest my supervisor
said had superficial
wounds. The quietest
were often down to
the last pint of blood.
The worst part was
having to choose
•
Weąd practiced going out
on operations as a
grunt you donąt
know where youąll go
or how long. Some
will get maimed, some
will die we were
walking past and a
friend of mine,
Jeremy, got shot in
the throat. There
wasnąt much blood. I
carried him all night,
I felt I had to. On
my first day Iąd
fallen asleep and he
woke me. I felt I
had to carry him
•
the last words
for the first man
I killed were
łOh mama˛
•
How did I do it,
write a book, not
being a writer?
Well I had a
great rage. I
could kick ass with
the best of them and
I could use that
rage on paper
•
I flunked English in
college. But, I was
confused, I had to
know, did this happen
or didnąt it
•
I was so angry I
could barely breathe
sometimes. They
couldnąt accept a
woman exploding in rage
so I had to find
another way. I got
out of nursing, went
back to college.
Bits and pieces of rage
poured out, they
found their own way
•
Why, I asked
did I come back,
why could I be
at the wall? Why
could I be at my
fatherąs side when
he died? How could
I write when so many
saw so much more and
couldnąt? I think it
is to testify
•
I was 18 flunked
out of college. My
girl friend told
me she was pregnant.
I came from a broken
family with no job,
no future, thought
in the marines Iąd
get training. Theyąd
taken care of the
birth. Then, I come
home be a hero,
make it on the
GI Bill
•
I signed up out of my
home town. I had no
job, no future, joined
Army Airborne. Little
did I know Lyndon
Johnson would make
us the first division
to go
•
I came from a big
Irish Catholic
family and JFK
spoke to me when I
heard hin say, łAsk
not what your country
can do for you.˛ It
meant everything tho
he was dead by the
time I graduated
high school. Still
I knew Iąd be in
Vista or Peace Corps.
The Marine recruiting
gut turned out to be
someone I knew since
nursery school and
then I knew what
Iąd do
•
I thought Iąd be Florence
Nightengale in green
going through a tent
with a candle. The
day I got there,
another nurse was killed. Weąd
worked on anesthesia,
shot-gun tracheotomies.
What I saw was nothing
as simple as that.
•
I came out of a small
Catholic High School,
ROTC was necessary
in my college. I
was raised in Audie
Murphy in Walk on
Water. We saw
films of mutilation of
the enemy that made me
want to keep my grades
up. I got another
deferment, saw my
friends die, got
guilt feelings,
mabe because
I was Catholic
•
I grew up in a military
family. My grandfather
was killed in the
Civil War, an uncle
in Guam. I remember
my fatherąs military
stars, the tattoo
on his arms. Strangers
came across the street
to shake his hand and
in restaurants, no
one would let us pay.
In a week I saw it
wasnąt John Wayne
and Rambo, rosemary
and sweet wine. No
one I started with
lived. I came back to
two years in the
Philadelphia Naval
Hospital, drank
gallons of booze,
then decided to
stop and write
about it
