By Renée Vazquez Anderson
It started on November 1, 1955, and lasted all through the 60s. Most would agree that it was a miserable and massive failure. I am, of course, talking about the Vietnam War. 58,000 were killed, 2,000 were captured, and around 350,000 were wounded, according to the U.S. National Archives. The veterans who did survive weren’t welcomed back with much fanfare at all because of the war’s unpopularity. Vietnam following the war was a place of poverty.
The Vietnam War ended on April 30, 1975. My grandpa died in Vietnam on July 3, 1971, just shy of his retirement from the Air Force. He was a very intelligent, funny, and handsome man, and, according to my grandmother, very suave. He also loved Broadway musicals; he loved them so much that he named my mother after “Maria” from West Side Story. He loved classical music, and he was part of the choir wherever he was stationed. My grandmother said that he had a wonderful voice.
My grandpa, Douglas Ray Anderson, joined the U.S. Air Force around 1953 as a Technical Sergeant and later served with the 12th United States Air Force Hospital, 12th Tactical Fighter Wing, 13th Air Force. My mother was just a few months old when he was deployed, and never saw him again. The impact he left on my mother’s life, and by extension mine, is staggering.
My grandmother spent around a year or two in a deep depression with friends of hers taking care of my baby mother. My grandmother moved to Mexico to help make my grandfather’s pension stretch as far as possible, and to be closer to family. She couldn’t take most jobs because the U.S. government would stop giving her aid. My mom grew up without her father, something that fundamentally changed every aspect of her life. His family stopped talking to him after he married a Mexican woman and never made any effort even to see my mother. During the war, he wrote a letter to my grandmother in which he asked her if he ever died never to glorify war to my mother, or let her join the army in any way. This has led to my family having strong anti-war sentiments. The Vietnam War wasn’t a noble fight. It was a mess that caused suffering and unnecessary loss of life. My mom grew up with a mother who was always working but who still made time to tell her stories about how smart and handsome her father was. The war gave us perspective. Even now, my grandmother, although being 87 and dealing with Dementia, remembers going to identify his body on a long beach full of bodies covered by sheets and crying people. My mom grew up in Mexico, which gave her a completely different cultural experience. And, I have a personal connection to associate with war, based on both their stories.
1960s Editor: Quintus Ni
Sources:
*https://www.archives.gov/research/vietnam-war
*My mother and grandmother
Hi Renee, Your writing really moved me. I don’t know you, (you are one of the few US students I don’t know.) My grandfather was an “illegal” in the early part of the century. His family suffered under Mussolini in WW2 and he fled to the US. My own mother was ostracized and persecuted. Sad to know history continues to repeat itself. I appreciate your candor. It’s amazing how we, the grandchildren are impacted by events in the lives of our grandparents.
Renee,
I began teaching in a Catholic school in 1965 when i was 24 years old. In 1966 I was ordered to the us Army recruitment Center in Buffalo NY, to be drafted. The Pastor of the Catholic Middle School where i was teaching was also a US Army Chaplain during the Korean War. He used his connections in the Military to get me a draft deferment based on my status as an educator in his school. Teaching saved me from having to fight a war that I opposed with all my heart. The irony is that in classroom debates about that war, I was in constant conflict with an 8th grade boy who was filled with blind American loyalty and deep hatred and fear of “Communism”. After his graduation from High School, he immediately enlisted so he could fight communism in Vietnam. He was killed in December of 1969. It can only be “Fate” that saved some of us from that awful war. Every time I hear a story like that of your grandfather, I am reminded of how fortunate I am. Thank you for the reminder.
Mr Sarkis
Renne,
I love your essay, very touching. I am sorry this happen to your abuelo and to your family. Thank you for sharing his story.
Miriam
Renee,
Your article had me reflecting on my own family and their participation in the Vietnam War. Thank you for sharing your thoughts on this topic and how it impacted your family.