A Letter from Vietnam

Letter from Vietnam

Suzanne Marsh

Dear Deana,

I hated leaving you and the child you are bearing. I wish I were stationed anywhere other than here in this hellhole they call South Vietnam. I arrived here today at the base here in Da Nang. Words could never describe the heat, insects, and snakes, to name just a few things I have seen in my twenty-four hours here. I have been assigned to the 196th Light Infantry Brigade, and I ship out tomorrow for the field. I promise I will try to write to you as often as I can. It is very humid here. I hear rumors that the monsoon season is the worst part of the year here. I am not much of a writer, Deana, but I am trying.

Would you please send cookies and other things from home? I will write again soon.

Hope this is soon enough. I am out in the field, and we are moving toward the Citadel of Hue. We covered quite a bit of ground. I carry an M16 and an M79 grenade launcher; the M16 is light, but that grenade launcher is heavy and hard on my lower back. I have ruck sack, which I carry with pictures. I don’t like wearing a helmet but Uncle Sam insists. Charlie is everywhere; we hear them coming. They

wear tire sandals. I hate it here, Deana. My skin crawls every time I hear a sound.

I should listened to you and my mom, waited to be drafted instead of requesting to be drafted. Last night we had a firefight, oh Lord, it was almost hand-to-hand combat. Charlie is relentless; they hunt us like prey. I took out one kid; it was either kill or be killed. The jungle itself is so thick in our area that you can’t see Charlie hiding.

We have been in the field for almost a month. I heard a rumor the other day that we come out of the field once a month. We can take showers, rinse the smell of rot off. Please send me some extra soap; a bar of Dial would work best. I can carry that in my rucksack. I have your picture in my helmet; a lot of the guys here have pictures of their wives or girlfriends. The sun is so hot here in Nam that we move nightly to a new position. We are heading due north, and I have no idea where. I heard another rumor that we are going to someplace called Kham Duc, then Da Nang. I wonder if we are going to stand down for six days, remember it is only a rumor. Use the map of Vietnam we purchased before I left, and then you can see basically where I am and where I am going. I am sorry I have not written, not to scare you, Deana, but I was wounded at Kham Duc. Charlie overran our company; we thought we were goners until a Huey gunship arrived. It was a little too close for comfort. Don’t worry, my arm will be fine. We lost five men during that raid.

I am out of the hospital in Da Nang; it was nice while it lasted; I have to return to my unit tomorrow. I have no idea where they are presently. You know, Deana, I hate being apart from you. I hope the baby will be here soon. I sure wish I could be there with you. I hope it is a little girl.

I am once again back in the field, walking through the rice paddies. Sometimes I wonder if my feet will ever dry out. Can you send some foot powder? The other day, I had three leeches on my leg; those are disgusting, so we burned them off with lighters, matches, and cigarettes. I am hoping to get leave for six days in Hawaii, by that time, the baby will be here. The guys tell me Hawaii is beautiful. It would be great if you could meet me there.

We are going to Khe Sanh, it is supposed to be fairly quiet there at the moment, with Charlie, you never know, where he is going to pop up next. The problem with Charlie is that he is just an ordinary civilian; he is actually the Viet Cong. We had a little kid run up to us and pull a grenade pin. He and several of our guys were blown up. It was horrible, Deana, just horrible. The kid wasn’t more than five years of age. I hate it here.

Khe Sanh is not what I expected. The Viet Cong are everywhere. I think we should hit them where it will hurt the most: their villages. We just received orders to move out, we are going back up north to Da Nang. Providing Charlie doesn’t decide to ambush us once again. Zippo squads are going into Charlie territory. We flick cigarettes on their hooches, which are crude structures made from wood and straw. I hate doing it, but I have no choice.

I heard a song today by Ssgt. Barry Sadler, the title is A Letter From Vietnam. It pretty much sums up my feelings. It begins: “Oh Lord, I’m tired and sad, and I want you oh so bad. I’ve been away so very long; now I want to go home.”

Deana, I just got word that we have a baby girl. I can’t wait to see her and hold her. The Red Cross notified me that you and the baby are fine. I am going to send you a dozen red roses. They should be there by the end of today. We should begin a family bible, see if you can find one at home. I saw one the other day, in a catalog, so I will order it and have it sent home.

I also got orders to go on leave to Honolulu for six days. Do you think you can meet there from July 3-9th? It will be like the honeymoon we never had. I can’t wait to see you. I love you.

Love,

Dean

Dean’s letter ends here. He was killed in action one day prior to leaving the field. Deana, received the news when she arrived in Honolulu.