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RECOLLECTIONS

By VVAW

The Name on the Wall: SP4 Fredrick A. Pine Co C, 2/12, 1st Air Cav Killed in Action Jan 2, 1968 Que Son Valley, Vietnam

I am the name on the Wall who received the greeting from Uncle Sam to become cannon fodder for the government, under threat of a jail term. I knew I would die, I told my mother before I left for 'Nam that they would all cry.

I crossed 4 or 5 rivers a day, carried the radio, walked the point, was sprayed with chemicals and bullets, rode the choppers, picked up wounded buddies, met and became friends with our brave nurses, slept in the mud and blood, craw land through tall grass that cut my face and body, watched my best friend get killed. How bad I felt, I couldn't explain though I tried in 24 letters I wrote by flashlight to Mom in 4 months.

Then Westmoreland turned traitor and betrayed me and my family and my buddies. I was ambushed and did my best to hold off the enemy until my wounded friends were loaded on the chopper. When I tried to fun for cover, I was killed. Some of my buddies, who I saved, died a week later at Chu Lai.

VI was awarded the Bronze Star with "V" for Valor. I will never walk again or cry. I will never say, "Mom, your good-looking son is home, what's to eat?" When I come home from work. I am glad that some of my friends made it home. You must fight to make Vietnam "the war to end all wars." I am the name on the Wall. I will never forget, nor will my mother or brother who suffered with me, when I was listed as an MIA. Then the closed casket was sent home.

I am the name on the Wall. Westmoreland put most of the names on the Wall.

—Ann Pine Mother of Fred Pine Trenton, NJ December 1986

Let's

Let's take them out of malt shops, and send them off to war; let's spray them all with poison, and make them sick and sore. Let's bring them home all broken, and teach them to feel shame, let's send them all on guilt trips, and convince them they're to blame. Let's call them anti-social, and claim they love to kill; let's tell them they need schooling, and destroy their GI Bill. Let's tell them to have children, and deny that something's wrong. Let's make believe they're lying, and pretend their kids are strong. Let's disclaim Agent Orange and all the harm it's done. Let's hope their offspring do survive, and pray that they have sons. Let's watch them raise their children, and then start it all once more, let's wait until they come of age, hello, El Salvador!!!

—Rena Kopystenski

Almost 20 years ago, I was dumped in a strange swamp and told to find my own way out.I started walking, but with every step I seemed to sink in deeper and deeper. But I kept on walking, what choice did I have? If I had stopped, I would have sunk in over my mind. Finally I did make it out and thought "Thank God, it's over." But I was to learn it was only the beginning. Every time I looked back I could see my footprints. I wished I hadn't entered in the first place but that didn't make my footprints go away. My shoes were caked with mud and it wouldn't wash off. So I tried to forget the shoes, the footprints, the swamp but my numb mind led me right back in. Yeah, I may be slow, but I learn. Today I know the footprints will remain, they're mine for duration. My shoes aren't new anymore but they still have a lot of miles left on them. So I've taken my post, a sentry at the entrance to the swamp. There I can help those still stuck inside. And warn others who approach of the dangers that lie ahead.

Dedicated to the Veterans Fast for Life and the Jersey City Vet Center.

—Dave Cline NY/NJ VVAW

INTERVIEW

To speak of peace? This much I know about peace: Before the war, my neighbor, a kind man, a farmer who owned no land, one night fed the honcho's dogs on milk and beef steak and that night his daughter died of diarrhea. She was three years old. I did not see him again until I went to the mountains.

Another day before the war, I was walking to the coffee fields on a most incredible morning; over the volcano the sun was red as your face and a mist lay in the valley arriba like a new sheet. Then I saw Maria's face, just the skin, peeled like an orange and hanging from a tree beside the trail. I thought then that I would die but that was before I found her body further down the trail.

Periodista, I will tell you something now to bring home to your people. We are tired of watching our land give birth to food for dogs. When your soldiers come they will learn as much about peace as I know. Tell them that. Do not fail.

—Gary Sisco Burlington,VT

Dear VVAW,

I would like information as to how I might be of help in stopping the Reagan's rather obvious aims to getting us embroiled in another Vietnam-type fiasco in Central America or elsewhere.

I'm a veteran of the Korean War. I re-enlisted after the armistice for several more years. When I saw what was going on in Southeast Asia, I got out. I felt that what we were doing was wrong. I realized we were wrong Korea also, although I couldn't see it at the time.

I've been speaking out against war since then but I sometimes feel that I am but one voice in the wilderness and not very effective. I couldn't even stop my own son from registering for the draft.

I read your as in The Guardian which I subscribe to and decided to write. I might yet be able to do something against this militaristic, imperialist madness.

—Worchester, MA