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Memories of Nam

By Maurice Simon

I was a combat medic assigned to the 2/28 1st Infantry Division 68-69. I wish I had kept a journal. I was originally assigned to a Clearing Station in Dian. I was there for a few months, the first medical treatment for incoming wounded. I was good. The physicians asked me to assist. One day, I was called out of morning formation to be told I would be sent to the infantry. Everyone said this had never happened before. I was assigned to the 2/28. I was scared every day, but my fear created a great sense of survival. I spent over 6 months in combat. Body bags, great air support in almost every firefight and ambush.

I threatened to kill troops who fell asleep during an ambush. We were assigned a new lieutenant who was a fucking asshole. During a combat situation, he told our company to cross a river. I said fuck you, don't do it! The troops listened to me.

Memory. I was 20 years old. I was drafted and asked my parents about going to Canada. My dad said he would disown me. So here I am. When I look back, I realize my sense of survival made me the best soldier I could be. I slept in rice paddies and drank from bomb craters.

One memory has surfaced throughout my life. Riding a 2 1/2 ton with my platoon. The Vietnamese children were begging for rations, and I found myself alone trying to stop our troops from throwing the cans at them. As I said, I wish I had kept a journal. I've had memories and nightmares; I wanted to share this for over 50 years.

I had friends at the medical clearing stations, and I went in to get supplies not usually available to us in combat. I met a gay doctor who set me up for an interview for a psychiatric technician position at my first base camp, Dian. I exited combat and worked closely with the division's psychiatrists. Because I was a medic, I could be sent to give medication. I spent the last few months of my tour as a psych tech. Remember when I said I was sent to combat? Well, I found out the guy who sent me, the XO, who thought I was a Jew. He hated Jews. He was Black. So, as time became short, he harassed me. Oh, I also remember that during a firefight we called in support; that fucking new lieutenant again. Well, all my casualties were from friendly fire. "Friendly fire" was not used at that time. I'm not done, but exhausted.

I met a few troops who were actively anti-war. They influenced me, and my first action was making a peace sign in a cement bunker I was working on. Started to notice US-owned construction signs in small towns and Saigon. Big US oil was interested in offshore drilling. Woodstock mystified me! In January 1970, I started college and met like-minded vets involved in the VVAW. We went to DC, protested, and turned in my medals at the Pentagon.

Maurice Simon is an Army vet and longtime VVAW member living in New York.