Looking Back

Sergeant Major Richardson told me, I’ll see that you’re

promoted to staff sergeant and given $3000 if you re-en-

list for six-years. I was nearly done with my three-year

term of service in the Army and about to rotate back to

the States for discharge. I had been stationed in Germany

at the time, and was married with a young son. I looked

forward to returning to civilian life. Sergeant Major’s offer

was certainly tempting, but half a world away in Vietnam

there was a terrible war going on. My ego would have loved

being awarded that extra stripe. And Lord knows, the lump

sum of money and increase in monthly income would have

gone a long way in supporting my family. But then, I figured

that six more years in the military with reassignments and

uncertainties would be a hefty price for me to pay. And of

course, there was that cursed war. Very kind of you, Sergeant

Major. I do appreciate the offer, but I have other plans for my

future, I told him—perhaps a house in the suburbs, a new

car and a steady job on the economy: Saturdays and Sundays

off, a secure and routine lifestyle I can count on. I had my

hopes and dreams, you see. And as it turned out years later,

even though divorced and having things not work out as I had

planned, at least I wasn’t a casualty of war. And fortunate too

that I was not to join the ranks of my GI brothers and sisters

who today have their names indelibly engraved into the cold,

dark marble of the Vietnam War Memorial. Still some fifty years

later, I think about those who were drafted, volunteered or re-

enlisted, willing or not, but in any event sent into battle to serve

and defend, those who would became casualties and return

home to hospitals and wheelchairs, to prosthetic limbs and to

the streets. And shall we never forget the more than 58,000 souls,

regardless of rank or pay, who were sent summarily along

with all their hopes and dreams to an early grave.

Chris Hanch 8-14-19