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A Letter Home: Thoughts of War and Petty Gripes

By Joe Miller

[Complete text written ten days before our daughter Lisa was born and sixteen days before I got the actual news. It reflects my developing attitudes about the Navy and the war and how much I was willing to share with the home crowd. I had been in the Navy for four and a half years by this time. Thankfully, my folks saved most of my letters from that period. It is important for all of us to remember who we were then and how we became who we are.]

2 November 1965 Subic Bay, Philippines

Dear Mom and Dad,

Well, here we are in our first port of the cruise, Subic Bay, Philippine Islands. We arrived early yesterday morning and we will be leaving tomorrow.** Since this place is a real "sailor trap," I have not left the ship on liberty. I am now standing by for one of the guys who works for me, in order that he could leave the ship.

I have Linda's photograph on the desk right next to the typewriter, and I wish I could express with words exactly how much I miss her and worry about her, even though I know that you are taking good care of her! These last two weeks at sea since leaving Hawaii have really given me quite a bit of time to sit down and somberly meditate upon our present situation.

What the hell am I doing way out here while my wife may be at this very minute giving birth to our first child? Does that sound as if I might be a bit perturbed at the Navy? Well, let's get into it and dissect the thoughts that have been running through my head recently.

Well, first of all, I am out here because we are fighting a war, yes, I said a war! I know that word has been sort of taboo back home, but that is what they call it out here, where everything is happening!

I don't like the war; sometimes I don't quite understand why we are mixed up in it. I have good reason to believe that most of the people we are fighting are in the same predicament. Does it sound at all plausible to say that those people are defending their homeland from what they have been told is an aggressive nation (US)? Couldn't it be that the propaganda machine over there is so strong as to bring this "truth" home to the common people, the people who do not get any newspapers except those that their political officers may let them read? I am sorry to say that I am afraid a lot of innocent people are getting shot up and killed on both sides.

It is really quite a problem, and there is no simple answer for it like, getting out, or dropping the big bomb on Hanoi. If we get out, we can then be accused of not honoring our commitments; if we drop the bomb, we will have more enemies in Asia than we have already. Japan still carries quite a scar from the last time we thought a big bomb would solve everybody's problems!

Can we sit down together and talk it out? Would that solve the problem? Who will we sit down with? Could we afford to allow the people in South Vietnam to vote in a new administration? For whom would they cast their ballots? Do you think they might want a change, or could they be really ecstatically happy with the present administration? Would you?

I have come up with quite a few questions; now I must work on the possible answers——being in ignorance of all of the facts, of course! One last question: Is this war really worth it?

I have been doing an awful lot of complaining about the Navy, and I guess that will be the serviceman's perpetual right: Griping! It is the only right we have, in all actuality. It does seem pretty paradoxical that we have to give up all of our main rights and freedoms in order to defend them.

Well, I will continue to complain until Linda and I are together again with our child, and we are able to get started in building a life for ourselves without having to tear myself away from the happiness and joy that is Linda and our first child.

The Navy can't show me anything anymore! The only thing that I would beg them for, the last thing, will be orders back near the area where I will be able to be with with Linda and our family. I am completely serious about this; I will be willing to beg them for those orders!

I have already given up my self-respect while in this outfit by becoming a "non-feeling" servant, an unequal in an organization that exists to preserve the equality of all men! It will be a relief to divest myself of this yoke of servitude, sometimes called a uniform, and join the throngs of men who work eight hours a day and are then able to return home to their wives and children.

I would not have to stand in line to be able to eat my meals; I would not get into the shower and, while all soaped up, find that the Captain shut off the fresh water because we were using too much.

Dad, when was the last time you had to pass inspection in order to leave the house to go to the store? Did Mom ever stop you from getting more dessert, if you wanted it, or another hunk of steak? Did you ever finish a day's work and then find out you could not go home because it was your duty day? Those are a few of the petty things, the petty gripes, that every serviceman has. I don't like it. It's as simple as that.

Thanks for allowing me to get this off my chest. Please pray with me that I get orders soon so I can come home to Linda and "Little Joe" or Lisa! God, please grant me this one petition!

The mail may be a little messed up in the weeks to come, for we will be at sea the rest of this month. Please be patient if my letters don't get to you as soon as they should. Please write again soon and let me know how everything is with my dear wife and child. I write as if he/she were born already, because I am not sure. Please take care of yourselves and let me hear from you again soon.

Love, Joe

**Our first of six "on line" periods during this cruise—that is, active military operations off the coast of Vietnam, North and South—went from 5 November to 2 December. This information was not in the letter.

Joe Miller, National Board Member of VVAW, served in the Navy from 1961-1968. With Naval Security Group, 1961-64; on board the USS Ticonderoga CVA-14, 1964-66; and, with Helicopter Training Squadron Eight, 1966-68.