If I may just say a word here..
I was drafted in 1969. I had no favorable thoughts regarding our efforts
in Vietnam, and wanted no part of it. When I was drafted I had a good
job, was engaged to be married, and was living in Berkely in a pretty nice
apartment, had a new MG Midget, was 19 years old..(or was I
20?)..anyhow, I turned 21 in Vietnam and was AWOL a month before I
showed up in Oakland to go fight in a stupid dirty war that had an ugly
ending. It was a choice I made over leaving family and friends to run off
to Canada, going to jail, or joining some service for four years. Luckily,
as things turned out, I feel pretty good about what I did. If they had made
me a machine gunner or point man, I don't know if I could deal with it as
well. They had the really tough jobs. I think they made me a medic to
punish me for my behavior in basic training. It was the job I feared the
most, and sure as hell, that's the one I got. It turned out fairly well
though, cause I didn't have to kill people as part of my job description. I
did carry an M-16, and fired it when the shit hit the fan exceptionally
hard, but never actually aimed it at a person and shot them.. I found
great satisfaction in successfully repairing my platoon's numerous
ailments and wounds, and/or at least keeping them alive long enough to
get to some serious care in the rear.
I never volunteered for anything, never spit-shined a boot, and never lost
one man in my platoon. As far as I know, all of them survived after I
dusted them off. Not one died on me in the field. Praise Gonz!
Seeing these letters after 37 years as Pat and Roger scan and e-mail
them to me is, dare I say, cathartic? Well, there, I said it.
I think I have them all posted now, and will be adding comments as the
mood strikes. They are in fairly close chronological order, but there are
a couple of missing pages, and perhaps some missing letters.
I hope you enjoy (ed) reading them.
Sincerely,
Tom Daly, medic, 2/3 Btn, 199th Infantry
in Vietnam, and wanted no part of it. When I was drafted I had a good
job, was engaged to be married, and was living in Berkely in a pretty nice
apartment, had a new MG Midget, was 19 years old..(or was I
20?)..anyhow, I turned 21 in Vietnam and was AWOL a month before I
showed up in Oakland to go fight in a stupid dirty war that had an ugly
ending. It was a choice I made over leaving family and friends to run off
to Canada, going to jail, or joining some service for four years. Luckily,
as things turned out, I feel pretty good about what I did. If they had made
me a machine gunner or point man, I don't know if I could deal with it as
well. They had the really tough jobs. I think they made me a medic to
punish me for my behavior in basic training. It was the job I feared the
most, and sure as hell, that's the one I got. It turned out fairly well
though, cause I didn't have to kill people as part of my job description. I
did carry an M-16, and fired it when the shit hit the fan exceptionally
hard, but never actually aimed it at a person and shot them.. I found
great satisfaction in successfully repairing my platoon's numerous
ailments and wounds, and/or at least keeping them alive long enough to
get to some serious care in the rear.
I never volunteered for anything, never spit-shined a boot, and never lost
one man in my platoon. As far as I know, all of them survived after I
dusted them off. Not one died on me in the field. Praise Gonz!
Seeing these letters after 37 years as Pat and Roger scan and e-mail
them to me is, dare I say, cathartic? Well, there, I said it.
I think I have them all posted now, and will be adding comments as the
mood strikes. They are in fairly close chronological order, but there are
a couple of missing pages, and perhaps some missing letters.
I hope you enjoy (ed) reading them.
Sincerely,
Tom Daly, medic, 2/3 Btn, 199th Infantry
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