We had what we called National Service during the Vietnam War and being US allies, Australian men had no option but to succumb. I was at university at the time and felt very obliged to march in Anti-Vietnam rallies because our attitude was that it was definitey NOT Australia's fight.
BUT, and here is the big but - I had a family member/friend at uni who had to serve and he was proud of the men with whom he served, proud of our defence forces and he bore mental scars that are still with him. I marched with him in a pro-Vietnam group just to give him emotional support. We were coated in flour and spat upon and jeered. All those servicemen who had quite simply done what they were ordered to do. Some respect would have gone a long way.
Many of the servicemen continue to suffer. Many have committed suicide. It was a tragedy then and a tragedy now. The war in Afghanistan has been no different. All wars scar participants on all sides for life.
I travelled to Asia during the vietnam War and as I toured, I met two US servicemen on R and R in Thailand - one a helicopter rescue pilot and one USAF but a mystery. They were not happy men - longed for their families, their wives and kids. Longed to go home. Sad as here was I, a carefree Australian heading through Asia and to Europe as if all the world were my oyster.
This is another reason I keep our family goalposts close and why I no longer want to hear or read news.
Oh Prue, I am sorry if it brought up bad memories for you. I really appreciate hearing about your personal experiences, and so sorry to hear of your family friend. How brave you were to stand with him! And also to travel in Asia during that time! Goodness; it must have been a different world!
There were indeed enormous responses to our involvement in that war, and of course in subsequent wars. We had similar outcomes in the US, initially responding with anger at the veterans for serving. This of course doubled down on the trauma most felt already. Even though now most people are much more supportive of those who serve their country, a whole generation of men and their families was subjected to the consequences of that intolerant behaviour. We are still learning of the damage and hidden trauma that comes from the many types of warfare, with the responsible institutions never quite accepting full responsibility.
I understand your need to keep your family close. ♥️
Please don't apologise, Sabrina. It's part of yours and my joint history. The sad thing is that whilst we can see the damage for the countries involved and for those countries who choose to involve themselves (for whatever reason), those closest to any fight can't seem to observe history and then move forward in the most positive and least harmful way.
Aw, walking down memory lane in the 70's. I grew up in California and graduated from High School in 1970. I was very much in the "make love, not war" camp, but didn't know anyone who had been drafted or gone there until I met my husband that same year, a young Marine just returned from Vietnam. It changed my perspective about so many things. Although he too was against the war, after having volunteered, experiencing its horrors, and returning home. Now I've just finished a novel about a California girl, an antiwar activist who travels to a country in Central America where she falls in with the leader of the revolution taking place there and learns that some wars are necessary. The United States was not only wrong about becoming involved in Vietnam, but about propping up corrupt dictators south of the border who exploited their people.
Thanks so much for your comments! It must have been quite an eye-opener to meet your husband and hear what it was really like. Your book sounds really fascinating. Have you published it yet? Let me know if it is accessible! And thanks for subscribing!
Adding that it really drew me in. I felt the feelings of childhood innocence and wonder, and I loved all the small observations — like the sighs, frowns, and whispers. I especially loved the line about the rest of your life being determined by the number printed on that page, and the girls looking up what their own number would be!
Aww, thanks so much Jen! I really appreciate your thoughtful comments-it helps me understand what parts of the writing resonates. So big thanks! And I LOVE the coincidence of your sister Jody being the age of my character Jody. Will be interested to hear what she says. Goosebumps here. And you born a month later than the story. Whew.
Wow, Sabrina! I loved reading this perspective of that awful war from the perspective of a child during the innocence of summer fun. What a contrast!
Coincidentally, I was born in September 1971 - just a month after this scene - and my sister Jody (!!) was thirteen years old! I will send this to her to see if it resonates.
Thank you for sharing this lovely piece. How brave you are! I could imagine the girls thinking, wondering, catching a glimpse of the newspaper, and needing to get back to their books. There are some lovely images; I especially enjoyed the description of the splotches of sun changing on their laps depending on how the wind shifted the branches. Another was the implements slowly returning to earth and the things around the picnice table. All very visible and felt. Those are just some examples.
I don't recall that I knew much about the politics of the war but I felt its presence in everday things. During that period, we had a succession of male students attending the San Francisco Theological Seminary who lived in our garage apartment in exchange for helping me mother with the household. They were in their twenties or early thirties (I guess, as they seemed old to me) and none of them seemed particularly religious. One of them played the guitar beautifully in the San Anselmo Presbyterian Church and at home for us. He played a lot of folk and protest song as well as "Get Together" by Jesse Colin Young. That song always reminds me that turbulent time.
This was also the time when I started to listen to folk music more - Peter, Paul, and Mary, the Weavers, Woodie and Arlo Guthrie, Joan Baez, and Judy Collins. Something was waking up inside that music spoke to.
At some point before 1971, the war scared me and I thought it would reach me and my family. One dawn I woke frightened. On my way to my parents' bedroom for comfort, I walked through the living room passing the huge picture window that looked out over the lawn and the seminary. I was sure that I saw a bomb that looked like a fungible dropping. My mother assured me it was not.
My classmates seemed to know a lot more about the war than I did. They talked about protests, sit-ins, and other ways to call attention to it. War talk and demonstrations were tied up in flower power, drugs, rock and roll, and other things I had little to with. I probably missed a lot for that reason.
Writing these comments, I remember (I think) that in 8th grade at Ross School we students told the principal that we we're going to have sit-in to protest the war or learn more about it. I cannot remember which.
I'm glad Doreen has made another appearance in your post.
I look forward to learning more about the story and the characters. What lake was this? I wonder if I know it. :) Thank you so much for sharing this with us.
Thank you so much for sharing your memories of that time! Despite growing up in such close proximity, we have distinctive and personal memories. That vision of a bomb must have been terrifying.
I do remember the sit-in protesting the war at Ross School. I thought it was very exciting and we were going to change the world. Ha. My renegade Aunt took me into San Francisco to sit-ins and demonstrations (and concerts!) at Golden Gate Park against the war, so I felt many connections to the counter-opinions of the day.
And I very much appreciate you letting me know what resonated with you-it is very helpful!
We had what we called National Service during the Vietnam War and being US allies, Australian men had no option but to succumb. I was at university at the time and felt very obliged to march in Anti-Vietnam rallies because our attitude was that it was definitey NOT Australia's fight.
BUT, and here is the big but - I had a family member/friend at uni who had to serve and he was proud of the men with whom he served, proud of our defence forces and he bore mental scars that are still with him. I marched with him in a pro-Vietnam group just to give him emotional support. We were coated in flour and spat upon and jeered. All those servicemen who had quite simply done what they were ordered to do. Some respect would have gone a long way.
Many of the servicemen continue to suffer. Many have committed suicide. It was a tragedy then and a tragedy now. The war in Afghanistan has been no different. All wars scar participants on all sides for life.
I travelled to Asia during the vietnam War and as I toured, I met two US servicemen on R and R in Thailand - one a helicopter rescue pilot and one USAF but a mystery. They were not happy men - longed for their families, their wives and kids. Longed to go home. Sad as here was I, a carefree Australian heading through Asia and to Europe as if all the world were my oyster.
This is another reason I keep our family goalposts close and why I no longer want to hear or read news.
This post raised some enormous memories
Oh Prue, I am sorry if it brought up bad memories for you. I really appreciate hearing about your personal experiences, and so sorry to hear of your family friend. How brave you were to stand with him! And also to travel in Asia during that time! Goodness; it must have been a different world!
There were indeed enormous responses to our involvement in that war, and of course in subsequent wars. We had similar outcomes in the US, initially responding with anger at the veterans for serving. This of course doubled down on the trauma most felt already. Even though now most people are much more supportive of those who serve their country, a whole generation of men and their families was subjected to the consequences of that intolerant behaviour. We are still learning of the damage and hidden trauma that comes from the many types of warfare, with the responsible institutions never quite accepting full responsibility.
I understand your need to keep your family close. ♥️
Please don't apologise, Sabrina. It's part of yours and my joint history. The sad thing is that whilst we can see the damage for the countries involved and for those countries who choose to involve themselves (for whatever reason), those closest to any fight can't seem to observe history and then move forward in the most positive and least harmful way.
Naive and Utopian, I know.
XXXX
Very wise observation Prue.
Aw, walking down memory lane in the 70's. I grew up in California and graduated from High School in 1970. I was very much in the "make love, not war" camp, but didn't know anyone who had been drafted or gone there until I met my husband that same year, a young Marine just returned from Vietnam. It changed my perspective about so many things. Although he too was against the war, after having volunteered, experiencing its horrors, and returning home. Now I've just finished a novel about a California girl, an antiwar activist who travels to a country in Central America where she falls in with the leader of the revolution taking place there and learns that some wars are necessary. The United States was not only wrong about becoming involved in Vietnam, but about propping up corrupt dictators south of the border who exploited their people.
Thanks so much for your comments! It must have been quite an eye-opener to meet your husband and hear what it was really like. Your book sounds really fascinating. Have you published it yet? Let me know if it is accessible! And thanks for subscribing!
Adding that it really drew me in. I felt the feelings of childhood innocence and wonder, and I loved all the small observations — like the sighs, frowns, and whispers. I especially loved the line about the rest of your life being determined by the number printed on that page, and the girls looking up what their own number would be!
Aww, thanks so much Jen! I really appreciate your thoughtful comments-it helps me understand what parts of the writing resonates. So big thanks! And I LOVE the coincidence of your sister Jody being the age of my character Jody. Will be interested to hear what she says. Goosebumps here. And you born a month later than the story. Whew.
Wow, Sabrina! I loved reading this perspective of that awful war from the perspective of a child during the innocence of summer fun. What a contrast!
Coincidentally, I was born in September 1971 - just a month after this scene - and my sister Jody (!!) was thirteen years old! I will send this to her to see if it resonates.
Thank you for sharing this lovely piece. How brave you are! I could imagine the girls thinking, wondering, catching a glimpse of the newspaper, and needing to get back to their books. There are some lovely images; I especially enjoyed the description of the splotches of sun changing on their laps depending on how the wind shifted the branches. Another was the implements slowly returning to earth and the things around the picnice table. All very visible and felt. Those are just some examples.
I don't recall that I knew much about the politics of the war but I felt its presence in everday things. During that period, we had a succession of male students attending the San Francisco Theological Seminary who lived in our garage apartment in exchange for helping me mother with the household. They were in their twenties or early thirties (I guess, as they seemed old to me) and none of them seemed particularly religious. One of them played the guitar beautifully in the San Anselmo Presbyterian Church and at home for us. He played a lot of folk and protest song as well as "Get Together" by Jesse Colin Young. That song always reminds me that turbulent time.
This was also the time when I started to listen to folk music more - Peter, Paul, and Mary, the Weavers, Woodie and Arlo Guthrie, Joan Baez, and Judy Collins. Something was waking up inside that music spoke to.
At some point before 1971, the war scared me and I thought it would reach me and my family. One dawn I woke frightened. On my way to my parents' bedroom for comfort, I walked through the living room passing the huge picture window that looked out over the lawn and the seminary. I was sure that I saw a bomb that looked like a fungible dropping. My mother assured me it was not.
My classmates seemed to know a lot more about the war than I did. They talked about protests, sit-ins, and other ways to call attention to it. War talk and demonstrations were tied up in flower power, drugs, rock and roll, and other things I had little to with. I probably missed a lot for that reason.
Writing these comments, I remember (I think) that in 8th grade at Ross School we students told the principal that we we're going to have sit-in to protest the war or learn more about it. I cannot remember which.
I'm glad Doreen has made another appearance in your post.
I look forward to learning more about the story and the characters. What lake was this? I wonder if I know it. :) Thank you so much for sharing this with us.
Thank you so much for sharing your memories of that time! Despite growing up in such close proximity, we have distinctive and personal memories. That vision of a bomb must have been terrifying.
I do remember the sit-in protesting the war at Ross School. I thought it was very exciting and we were going to change the world. Ha. My renegade Aunt took me into San Francisco to sit-ins and demonstrations (and concerts!) at Golden Gate Park against the war, so I felt many connections to the counter-opinions of the day.
And I very much appreciate you letting me know what resonated with you-it is very helpful!