Survivors of the Battle for Cu Chi 1966 - a Man of Honor

My husband's grandmother, "Big Mama" saved every letter she received from her grandson while he served his country in Viet Nam. The aging shoebox contains a journal of sorts that chronicled not only my husband's time in the military, but also his journey into manhood.

He was only 19 years old when he was drafted into the U.S. Army.

The parade of yellowing envelopes marched their way from April,1965 to April,1967. I met Private Messer, Fort Benning, Georgia; Private E-1 and PFC Messer from Fort Polk, Louisiana, and Spec 4 and Sgt. Messer with their overseas APO San Francisco postmarks; and upon returning to the States, there were Fort Knox, Kentucky postmarks.

Each envelope was carefully opened as we read with a sense of awe, the short letters inside. One thing that really struck me was being able to actually see this man, who is now my husband of 39 years, grow up before my eyes.

His first letters revealed his sorrow at being away from his friends and family. He missed everyone, including "Bootley", Big Mama's yard dog, who had apparently suffered from the mange prior to his military departure. Early letters also gave instructions to Big Mama about keeping the "young'uns" away from his car, which he had left in her care during his absence.

One letter offered Big Mama an apology for not keeping his room as clean and orderly as he should have when he lived with her. He was learning that Uncle Sam operated on the theory that everything had a place and everything had better be in its place. He was responsible for making his own bed, keeping his shoes spit-shined, scrubbing floors on hands and knees with a brush and, in general, keep everything spotless. He was filled with remorse over not being more responsible while living with his grandmother. I saw the tenderness of his heart as he apologized to her for not being attentive to these details.

Later letters told about rigorous training programs and long hikes carrying heavy backpacks, sometimes being awakened in the middle of the night and going through lengthy military drills. Then there were letters telling about jungle training in preparation for his tour in Viet Nam. Through all of it, I saw a young man who was maturing through hardship and becoming fully a man's man.

Leaving for Viet Nam was difficult. He faced his inner fears and over the next 12 months, faced more of the same fear during raids, sweeps and long treks through very dark jungles. He told harrowing stories of sleeping in a tree and having to take over driving the APC through the jungle after their driver had been hit by enemy fire. In one year, his youthful eyes saw more death and destruction than anyone should ever see in a lifetime. It is the way of war and he did not shrink back from his duty to God and his country.

Perhaps his last day in Viet Nam was the most difficult for him to face. Because he was getting "short" on time, his commanding officer told him to stay back at base camp as the rest of his platoon prepared for yet another outing in the dark jungle. He left for home before his platoon returned from that operation and it was years later before he learned that nearly the entire platoon died that day under enemy fire. There was a deep grieving over the loss of friends, along with the question, "Why was I allowed to live when they died?" There was nothing easy about this war, not even going home alive.

I felt a growing sense of pride in him as we read our way through those years of his military life. I know that the Viet Nam War was not a popular war, as wars go. I also know that my husband was only one of many, many young men who served his country during a time of war; however, this is my man.

His country honored him by awarding him a Bronze Star for his dedication and service. I also give honor to him for his strength and courage to face moment by moment the fears and uncertainties that he was called to face and to do it with such grace. Those were not easy days, but he endured to the end. Although most of the men in his own platoon did not return, he did. For that, I am eternally grateful to God.

Source:

Personal Account