The scene is an airport in Vietnam.  There are two good buddies, one dressed in jungle fatigues, the other attired in his dress uniform.  One is awaiting his flight back to the world, the other will go back to the “bush” for another month or two.  They spot the plane coming in on the horizon and they embrace vigorously, tears cascading down their cheeks. They recall memories of battles fought, of other dear friends both wounded and of those gone forever, and of the special bond between them that will last a lifetime.  Then they whisper to each other “whenever I’m very lonely or frightened, I’ll think of you”, and “I promise you, God willing, we’ll meet again.  I love you, brother”. 

     That would be the charming fairytale ending to a horrific tale of human tragedy that we’ve ever seen or experienced.  However, it just never happened that way and this is why I welcome the opportunity to write this letter saying goodbye.

     I’ve had an uplifting and moving experience here at 11G and I want to say not only good-bye, but thanks to the entire staff and to all you men, my comrades, my friends.

 You know, over the years I’ve found I often resented those people to whom I’ve confided my failures.  So after 2 or 3 risks on my part, I said “never again”.  However, the staff here pushed and convinced me to give it one more try.  Reluctantly, I did and I can honestly say that it was the best gamble in my life.  Resentment is the furthest thing in my mind and has been replaced with admiration, trust, love, and respect.  I have never encountered such concern, caring, and insight as I have with the entire staff and my fellow veterans.

     Over in Nam we were in a part of the world where the Geneva Convention had about as much meaning as the mandatory eight count does in a street fight.  In the shared dangers and deprivations, we had learned to rely on each other implicitly.  A special bond united us, the bond that unites all survivors: the intimate knowledge of death.  Yes, modern war was total; it butchered civilians, turned decent women into whores, destroyed societies, bred corruption, and uprooted and destroyed our upbringings and moral values.

     One of the most frightening, heart tugging examples of battle fatigue that I have ever seen is the old thousand-yard stare.  My entire field training experience, as I remember too well, was a call to arms, a call to war, a call to bravery, and a primitive rite of passage for young men into manhood.  Once it begins, war has nothing to do with bugles and banners and parades, nor even with principles.  War has to do with death, only death.  It is brutal beyond belief, beyond anything you can imagine.  War is not an acceptable way for men to die.  However, from past experience, I can tell you that nothing prepares you for killing men except killing men. 

     The America that sent us to war no longer existed to welcome us home.  People could not comprehend the world of the middle to late 60’s, the stresses and social dislocations felt more by the young than by the old.  Truly, the country had gone mad.  They teach soldiers to be proud, to be assertive, to stand tall.  Then, when something happens, an outrage, an atrocity, a senseless death, a humiliation, a dishonor, we can’t handle it.  We don’t bend like most people.  We stand tall, then snap.

     All this is what I want to say goodbye to and forget most of it.  I’m here now to say goodbye to all of you, staff and vets, and to let you know that I will never forget any of you.  This time around it was a good and welcomed tour.  In the end, each of us is alone, but in the meantime, we must huddle together to give one another comfort and warmth.

     So, as I said earlier, I promise you, God willing, we’ll meet again.  I love you all, my brothers and sisters.  May your journey through the reminder of life be safe and smooth.

     Goodbye.

Oscar Bravo S/SGT. 

1^st Bn/5^th Inf.

25^th  Inf. Div.

1967-‘68