WIFE'S VIEW
A Poem by Janet Rudman written for husband Jerry
Husbands, brothers, sons, dads served in the US military
fighting the Vietnam War for love of our country, right or wrong.
Off they went, though our own land's ills were unresolved.
How we should have thanked our heroes when they came home.
Instead we called them "Baby-killers."
In South Vietnam - not the hot, dirty, bustling streets of Saigon or DaNang,
filled with Buddhist temples - or even in the officers barracks and
soldiers' bamboo hootches and makeshift hospitals -
but further inland, in monsoon-soaked jungles, rice paddies,
among rubber trees - visible during the day: American rifles,
canons, B-52 strikes, napalm. Invisible at night: Vietcong trip-wires,
ambushes, punji sticks.
Injuries, deaths inflicted on our brave, who fought to free this
beleaguered nation from Red dominion.
In the effort to save their land, it was war-ravaged. Innocent
civilians and South Vietnamese Army - killed or maimed, children orphaned.
Parallels divided North and South in 1964. After 1975 their flags flew separately.
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