ON THE HOMEFRONT

One reads how in World War II, everybody pulled together, supporting each other as well as the men and women in the armed forces. This wasn't true during the Vietnam conflict, which was never called a proper war. Funny how much like a war it seemed to those who were fighting, bleeding and dying and to we who were waiting at home, frightened, lonely and praying.

My parents were wonderful, and I lived with them for the whole year. My dad, having served in the Navy during WWII on a destroyer, seemed to understand and have more compassion than anyone. He was never a communicative man, but he was in my corner, and, surprisingly, was the most excited that I was expecting the first grandchild on my side of the family.

I scarcely knew my inlaws, as Garry and I had dated for only six weeks before getting married (for those of you counting on your fingers, we were married on Aug.9, l969, and Laurie was born July 30, 1970 - Ha Ha!), but they were very good to me. They came to visit often, became close friends with my parents, took me for long car rides in the woods to look for deer, and for long boat rides down the Muskegon River. I should have been more appreciative of the boat trips, but it was an awfully long way between restrooms for a pregnant girl! They always brought Garry's dog, Ching, along. Ching was the ugliest dog you ever saw in your life, but he could spell. If anyone said, "G-O", he would beat us all out to the car.

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There was some trouble very early on when my father- in- law took it upon himself to show me a letter Garry had written him. In it, he described the area his platoon was in, called Tay Ninh, very differently than he'd described it to me. He spoke of many firefights, one in particular in which his friend, Flash, had been killed (Garry had helped carry him to the med-evac) and of bullets winging through the bush right over his head. He said he was frankly scared and had an opportunity to become a doorgunner on a chopper, which would have required him to stay in-country three months longer and not have been that much safer. He was asking his father for his opinion. Also in the letter was an explicit request not to tell me these things due to the fact that I had recently been hospitalized with a near miscarriage. The doctor had warned that I'd never carry the baby to term without getting a handle on my emotions concerning the whole Vietnam thing, and Garry was very aware of this.

As you might imagine, this letter upset me greatly. I was completely aware that my husband was out in the bush with a rifle, and I feared terribly that he'd be hurt or killed. He was not telling me things that he wrote in the letter to his father, and I wasn't even aware that he'd been in a firefight yet. It didn't occur to me at that moment to question my father- in- law's decision to show me this; I had just been telling him a very funny story Garry had written me about some things his buddies had done. He said he'd shown it to me so that I'd be aware that Garry wasn't exactly having a picnic. I was thoroughly aware of that before reading this!

I immediately became more afraid than ever in my life, and, strangely, extremely angry with Garry, for the first time. I shot off a pretty hysterical letter, accusing him of treating me like a fool, lying by omission, and demanding that he tell me every detail of all that had happened. Garry was absolutely livid, but not with me, though I probably deserved some of it. Instead, this twenty year old guy wrote me the most beautifully tender letter, explaining that he loved me, would never intentionally lie to me, and had always intended to tell me all...but not while it might endanger me and our baby's life.

His father, however, received a very different letter, which he also showed me. Garry was not a disrespectful son, but he didn't appreciate his dad's interference, particularly where I was concerned, nor was he pleased at being too far away to take care of things first-hand. After telling his father, in no uncertain terms, just what he thought of what he'd done, he said that he'd never tell him another thing or ask his opinion again, then proceeded to warn him to expect an Army lawyer at the door if he did one more thing to upset me! Wow!

My father in law never cared to admit he was wrong, so he didn't; however, we all came through it. We remained close until Dad's death a few years ago, though I won't say things were always smooth. I believe there's a picture of my father- in- law beside the word "stubborn" in the dictionary, bless his heart.

Most of the folks in Newaygo and Fremont were totally apathetic about Vietnam. Few, except their families, seemed to care that some of our own local guys were over there. Even those who had finished their own tours of duty didn't want to talk about it, and that was very disconcerting.

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My sister- in- law and her husband, as well as my brother- in- law and his wife, were kind and accepted me as part of the family. Garry's oldest brother was eighteen years older than him, lived in Idaho, and Garry didn't know him any better than I did, which is no one's fault but sad when you look back.

I've spoken of how supportive the folks at the Post Office were, but I had a wonderful friend, too. Her name is Barb, we'd gone all through school together, and her husband was also in Vietnam. He had an easier job, back in the rear, but no one was truly safe anywhere in that country; he was very unlike my Garry, seldom wrote to his wife, and wasn't the nicest person around. I felt very sorry for her on that score but totally enjoyed her company. We didn't do much besides playing cards and chatting, but that was enough. Barb, if you ever see this, we've lost touch, but I thank you from the bottom of my heart for making a difficult time a little more bearable.

Music was a big part of life for people our ages in 1970; we were listening to the Carpenters, Association, Bread, the Partridge Family, the Fifth Dimension, etc. The Beatles were breaking up, most distressing! I kept writing Garry about a beautiful song called "Snowbird" sung by Anne Murray, but he didn't get a chance to hear the radio too often.

As with most things, attitudes differed all over the homefront. Some folks were wonderful, most didn't care one way or the other because Vietnam just didn't affect their lives. I saw demonstrations only on television, hated to hear our guys referred to as "baby killers", watched Walter Cronkite for the news and always checked for a possible glimpse of my husband, wanted Nixon to just bring them home and forget about honor.

And then there was the really ugly side of life, which is always lurking about. I babysat for a short while for two lovely little kids. The father, aged 35 and seemingly an "elder" to a 19 year old, began coming home from work earlier each day, saying that he liked to talk to me. This caused me to feel most uncomfortable, but I attempted to be pleasant until the day he jumped from out of the blue and tried to rape me. He didn't succeed, and I never went back.  Not everyone was kind.

Still and all, the worst was the APATHY.

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