I can relate

Last night I watched another of HBO's excellent movies - "Taking Chance". HBO seems to be able to produce movies far superior to anything offered by the major networks, which is why, I suppose, every year they seem to run away with the Emmy awards.

"Taking Chance" was based upon a true story - that of a Marine Lt. Colonel escorting the body of an enlisted man - a Private First Class - back to his hometown. The PFC had been killed in the war in Iraq. The Lt. Colonel, played by Kevin Bacon, is stationed stateside, had seen combat in the first gulf war, but since that time avoided it by becoming a desk jockey, and then, when his number was possibly due to come up for a tour in Iraq, ensured it wouldn't happen by requesting a critical assignment to another desk job.

While the movie rightfully plays tribute to the Marine who lost his life and the ensuing honor paid to him by not only the Lt. Colonel, but hundreds of ordinary citizens who happen to come in contact with the Bacon character and the flag-draped remains, a second sub-plot is also prevalent. That subplot is something to which I can relate. It is about the guilt felt by the Lt. Colonel for choosing to spend time with his wife and children stateside, instead of fulfilling the destiny of that of what Marines are supposed to do - fight wars.

I am a former Marine. But, it was not of my choosing - I was one of the few, the proud, the drafted. From what I heard later, only 23,000 of us were drafted then - in the ramp up during the Viet Nam war. I simply reported, as ordered, to the induction station in downtown Los Angeles on the day I was supposed to. I, like the hundreds of other young men reporting that day, went through a battery of tests, and then sat down in the large assembly area. Then a Marine officer appeared at the front of the room and told us that they needed 24 people from the gathering to become Marines. He asked for volunteers, and 13 people raised their hands and were whisked away. Since that was 11 short of the number needed, he advised us that they would begin calling out names for the remaining number to fill the quota. Mine was the 10th name called. I almost wet my pants.

Without going too deep into the whole experience, let me just say somehow I made it through Boot Camp and Infantry Training - which all Marines must do. I was indeed proud and felt I could do just about anything, including kill people. But, upon receiving my orders, I found that, despite the bad luck of being one of "The Chosen" for the Marines, my luck had turned - I was assigned to El Toro, only 35 miles from my home.

Long story short, when I reported to El Toro, they didn't know what to do with me, so a Lieutenant asked me if I could type. I replied, truthfully, "Yes". He then sent me to a helicopter training group, and I became a Company clerk. Kind of a Radar O'Reilly. As time went by, I met, and formed close friendships with many young men my age. Some had been to Viet Nam, others would be going in the future. Living with a bunch of guys in a barracks, I guess, is somewhat akin to a fraternity. Except the stakes are higher, and the world is much more real when you hear guys crying in the night while they relive horrific scenes from a war they experienced up close and personal. It is also tough not ever really knowing who will make it through the next few years. Or who will come home damaged, either physically or mentally, or both.

My unit shipped out to Viet Nam when I had but 2 months left in my 2 year draft commitment. With that little time left the Government could keep me, it made no sense for them to ship me over - only to send me right back. Instead, two days after my group left, I was "mustered "out. My luck had definitely changed from the morning nearly two years prior when I received the news in the induction center that I would become a Marine. I had escaped serving in Viet Nam.

The subject matter, however, is "I can Relate" and what I'm talking about here is how the Lt. Colonel felt guilt about staying stateside, while so many of his contemporaries went off to fight. Don't get me wrong here. Most of the time, I've felt incredibly blessed that God, in all His wisdom, spared me the horrific situation of having to go to war and be faced with the "Kill or be killed" experience. But, there have been many moments when I have felt that same guilt the Kevin Bacon character did.

I've asked myself over the years why I escaped serving in Nam. So many of my friends had to, yet I didn't. It just didn't make any sense. As news of the death of friends of mine reached me, I felt incredible guilt. When I spent time with buddies of mine who had returned, I saw a 'different' look in their eye, I felt guilt. Once I took a friend out and we got rip-roaring drunk. He had a flashback, and I was scared for him, and for me. And reflecting on it the next day, I felt both relieved and guilty.

It's been forty-some years but I've had conversations with friends who served in Viet Nam in recent years, and they still break down. I know of at least 4 people who committed suicide because of that damn war. 3 in the last few years. Still there are times I feel guilty that I escaped having to go over there and fight. It is what I was trained to do. That's why I can relate.

Old Fart Mike