I had a Vietnam vet cry in my arms today.

My father wasn't in combat, but worked in the medical facilities over there and he got cancer several years later from the agent orange exposure. I was only 5 when he was diagnosed. Thankfully, even though he was only given 6 months to live, God healed him.

It's not a part of his life he likes talking about. But its really surreal looking at old pictures of him in Vietnam, because I look just like him. I could have also been sent to fight in a war that had no purpose. It's really sobering.
 
My friend Jimmy is a vet. He had to shoot his best friend in the head with his M16 when said friend got his guts blown out when they were deep in the shit and no medevac would be coming. He lives on valium. Without it he gets into a terrible state. Imagine having to live with that.

One afternoon I lit off the M1A and Jimmy almost came out of his skin. We've done a lot of shooting together and I thought he was alert to my action. His response was way out of the ordinary. This is what he has to deal with on a daily basis at 65 years of age and 40 years after the facts. He is a hardcore Ron Paul supporter.
 
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I am still quite fuzzy on a lot of stuff dad did, because he doesn't talk much about it. He was one of those "join before they draft you" types, and he barely made it in time. As it was, they were not treated particularly well because their English was poor and they weren't from the fifty states. Dad did a lot of stuff that still shows as scarring, and sleeping with his knife from the time in his room. He did that for a country that said he could not vote in the general election, and if we hadn't moved off of the island he still would not be able to.

Vietnam sucked. It must be why we're doing it again and again.
 
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