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Regards, Marc Speaks Out

By Marc Levy

Anyone can say they were in Vietnam. Anyone can say I was a medic humping the boonies, did two, three tours, got shot at, plugged guys with bandages and morphine to ease the pain. Anyone can say they were in Vietnam. But not me. I'd never do that. I'm the genuine article. The real deal. I have the papers and medals to prove it.

At a warehouse in Secaucus, NJ surrounded by electrified chain linked fence, armed guards with six legged pit bulls who speak in tongues guard over my hundred thousand medals of honor. On Tuesdays I charge three dollars for the radical walking tour.

I've been awarded the Distinguished Service Cross so many times the Army sent me a telegram in 1978: SIR, PLEASE BE ADVISED WE HAVE RUN OUT OF SHEET METAL AND RIBBON FABRIC. THE JOINT CHIEFS OF STAFF HAVE COMMISSIONED A TEAM TO SCULPT YOUR LIKENESS ON MT.RUSHMORE. CONGRATULATIONS AND GOD BLESS THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.

The Silver Star is the third highest decoration for gallantry in combat. I keep all 2,000 one for every citizen in Dentville, Wisconsin in six hundred solid oak treasure chests. When the moon is full, I lift the lid of one such chest, sink my hand deep into the glistening pile, hurl them high with all my strength. When the tinkling stars shower down, winking, it reminds me of the Milky Way.

Do not doubt me. You have my word all this is terribly true. I was no ordinary medic during those dim days of yesteryear. No, sir. No, mam.

I performed brain surgery in the dark, twelve men at a time without benefit of anesthetic to obtain the element of surprise. I called in B-52 strikes using my sinus cavities to broadcast outgoing signals. I was born in a bomb crater on the third of July.

In my pack I carried entire battalions of tanks and cannons. The blades of helicopters poked out from beneath my helmet. Snagged on clouds, slowed me down. I fired my M-16 eighty two trillion times. It never once jammed or malfunctioned.

I dug five hundred million foxholes. I ate nine billion cans of C-rations. I drank thirty nine hundred million gallons of water. I defecated six hundred sixty six million metric tons of highly enriched government issued poo. A not immodest sum don't you think?

Anyone can say they were in Vietnam. But I'm the real deal, the genuine article. I have the papers and medals to prove it. You meet me 2:30 in the afternoon in Secaucus, NJ I'll give you the tour. But those under eighteen will not be admitted.

Marc Levy served with Delta 1/7 Cav '70 as an infantry medic. He can be reached at silverspartan@gmail.com. Originally published in Will Work for Peace, Zeropanik Press, edited by Bret Axel, 1999.