Saved in the Midst of Saving

This is the longest piece that I have posted here. It is longer than the recommended length for a blog post. However, two friends of mine, Rick and Allan, have asked for copies of this story. I'm posting it for them and others who might be interested. I have shared "Saved in the Midst of Saving" with people I know; however, I have edited parts that took away from the it sequential integrity. Like most of what I post, this story is intense and war related. War hardens people and it, at times, presents circumstances in which people can exercise their grossest fantasies. I remain angry with a country that puts young people in positions where they must make moral decisions that could have long term and life and death consequences.


Saved in the Midst of Saving

It is night in the Mekong Delta of South Vietnam sometime in September or October of 1967. Lane’s squad, which has been patrolling along rice paddies, is about to set up a defensive position on the raised area where a family dwelling, a hooch, stands above the rice paddy waters. The men hear an explosion nearby and then the unmistakable “thump” of another round leaving the mortar tube traveling in their direction. Lane hits the ground as rounds exploded. His whole being shakes uncontrollably waiting for the next round to hit. There is no safe place as the VC fire and “walked” rounds toward the squad’s position. Behind him, next to the hooch and in the midst of the attack, Lane hears a commotion and people speaking Vietnamese in a disturbed and anxious way. He looks to see what’s happening and notices a Vietnamese girl not much younger than himself running away from the hooch and the protective earthen bunker that all family dwelling contain. She runs in the darkness between the surrounding trees and looks back in fear toward her house and the gathered American soldiers. Her beauty evens in the dark of that night attack surprises and attracts Lane. He thinks, “What’s she doing out exposing herself to death in a mortar attack?” In minutes, the VC attack stops. From his position, which is away from the house and away from the others, Lane sees the rest of his squad gathered, speaking in low voices. As a sharp fear rises in him, he thinks, “they better spread out. One mortar round or one grenade will wound and kill them all.”

Lane sees one man from the grouped squad turn toward him with an ominous and questioning look and others glance in his direction. Their low talking, that look, and those glances pierce into his psyche and bring about terrible feelings. “They’re gonna rape her” he knows as he looks over at the rest of the squad. Lane’s squad leader has the reputation for atrocities. He’s cut off and preserved ears of dead Viet Cong and he’s pulled gold teeth from Vietnamese bodies. Two other members of the squad, team leaders and the squad leader’s henchmen, have taken on their leader’s macho evil way of soldiering. Lane thinks, “it looks like someone’s done persuading and action’s about to start!”

Lane’s mind begins to race. Instantaneously a number of thoughts flash into his consciousness. They revolve around the decision: “should I join them or should I stop them.” He feels no excitement in the prospect of raping anyone; however, the squad has all of their weapons against Lane and his lone M-16. “If I challenged them, will they kill me on the spot?” “They’re the ones who have my back” in the midst of the constant threat of attack. “Should I go along with them so that they will to protect me?” “What if I do stop the rape, will my squad leader later put me on point and then have someone put a round in my back or blow me away with a grenade?” All of these thoughts conform to this young soldier’s primal instinct for survival and his desire to conform to his peers. All of these thoughts speed through Lane’s mind until two remain: “I have to live with myself” and “she doesn’t deserve to be raped.” At this point, his attraction to this young woman turns to love and his love impels a readiness to act. Lane stands with his rifle at waist level in the assault position pointed in his squad’s direction thinking, “Why am I standing here like this?” Then he hears something deep within say; “keep your weapon there!” And he does.

Another thought enters Lane and another fear rises. He fears that in threatening to stop the rape he’ll certainly need to threaten firing his weapon or fire at the squad possibly killing his own men. Right then, Lane makes the decision to kill if need be to stop that rape. With his weapon pointed in the squad’s direction, he stands feeling devastation and resolve as he imagines his fire rifle’s muzzle ablaze as men fall.

In a few minutes, the quiet talking stops and the rest of the squad disperses to set up for the night. There was no rape and the squad returns to base camp the next morning. In a day or so one of the men from Lane’s squad approaches him and indicates that it was Lane’s presence that stopped the rape. The man says, “we were going to do something, but we were afraid that you would do something.” Lane responds saying with a macho affect, “your damn right I would have!” Then he turns and walks away.

Forty years later, names have left Lane’s memory; however, the image of men ready to rape are imprinted in this veteran’s mind. In contrast, this older veteran remembers the interaction with his squad member while in basecamp. This man’s demeanor bordered on relief, even gratitude. Lane realizes that this young soldier may have come to thank him for stopping him and the others from actions that they would have regretted, actions that would have scarred them for life.

Recently, in a group of combat veterans with whom he meets, Lane shared parts of this story. The facilitator responded saying, “thank you for saving that woman.” Another member, a vet who admits to having acted “crazy” in Vietnam, looked at her and said, “no, he saved himself.” During that awe-full night in the Mekong, something inside had inspired Andrew Lane to do both.

First published in "Veterans' Voices." Mission, Kansas: Hospitalized Veterans Writing Project, INC. Fall, 2007.



Robert Jost

On Point

The protagonist in the following poem walked point on many night patrols during the last months of his tour in Vietnam. The point position is the lead and most dangerous position in a patrol. In the midst of the danger that war presented and in the midst of the devastating psychological and emotional consequences of war this young man found meaning.

On Point

He walks
Out of a village gate at night
Past the bunkers, looks
Out on the narrow road
And sees the possibility
Of death. And he doesn't care.
For the past months he hasn't
Slept much and he scarcely feels.
He's getting short, but there’s little
At home. He's got few illusions.
“The world”: It’s hard,
There’s little compassion,
And they won’t understand. No,
Life is here. On point he can feel.
Fear and the threat of death
Exhilarate him. He’s been
Scarred and scared and numb
For months. But on point
He can really feel.
There’s people behind him
Who depend on him
And he’s good and he cares,
Though, he doesn’t know
Them well. He guesses it’s
Love and walks
Out on that narrow road and
He’s alive
For one more night.



Robert Jost

Credit: First Published in Veterans of War, Veterans of Peace, edited by Maxine Hong Kingston, Koa Books, Kihei, Hawai'i

Persuasion

This poem depicts an incident that happened in November of 1967. In this incident, I was afraid to confront one of my peers and I was afraid of the reaction from my platoon. However, my conscience led me to a right decision.

Persuasion

Our patrol had moved out
into the rice paddies
about a quarter mile from the village gate.
Z was a short distance ahead of me
when he reached
the first hooch in
this area that we called
the “Bowling Alley.”
He walked to the hooch,
took out his lighter, and raised it.
His intention was to
torch the grass dwelling
while the little old man,
whose dwelling it was,
in desperation and anguish
begged him to stop.
Z’s mind was made up
until I raised my weapon,
leveled it at his head and
yelled, “I’ll shoot you if you burn it.”
With little hesitation he
extinguished the lighter,
dropped his arm,
and walked away.


Robert Jost

Springtime in the Rockies

Rick is a friend of mine. We were in the same infantry company in Vietnam and connected after forty years late last year at our company reunion. Rick is a sophisticated country guy. He wrote the following:

Things are good here...It's Springtime in the Rockies! Saw a 2" sprig of asparagus tonight, lilacs are budded, rhubarb has little red nodules poking through the mulch, flower bulbs are sending up leaves...yup...Springtime in the Rockies! 78 degrees yesterday, out in the garden getting plants in and water going...45 today, wind howling like a big dog, back to the greenhouse...yup...Springtime in the Rockies! Went out on the lake Friday (ice is off, took a boat) and caught our trout limit 3 times over...yup...

More Truth

My son David and I still get together and go fishing. He's almost thirty now. From the time when he was a baby we have enjoyed each others' company. We had good times camping when he was a small child.

Truth

laying in a chaise lounge
drinking a bottle of cheap
beer looking up
at the afternoon light
through the umbrella
of oak leaves
my son playing with his
toy grader in the
dirt of our shaded
day spangled campsite


Robert Jost

Talk Radio and Truth

One Sunday evening a few years back I listened for a while to a conservative talk radio host. Thomas Aquinas teachings gave rise to the Renaissance idea that “truth is where you find it.”* I heard truth that evening.

Talk Radio and Truth

As I listened on the radio
to the harsh voiced and
War mongering G. Gordon
Liddy a caller, during
A conversation concerning
“real men,” spoke of
His ideal real man.

This man, someone the
Caller knew, was a
Master sergeant with
Years in the military.

The image portrayed was
Of a man who was tough.
He’d fought in
Korea and Vietnam and
Now drank a quart of Jack
Daniels while smoking three
Pack of Camels a day.
He didn’t sleep much.

Even Liddy fell
To silence
At the image of this
Profoundly war-scared
Veteran who was dying
Trying to smoke and
Drink into oblivion
The blood,
The bodies,
The death
That his memory contained.

*http://www.thomasaquinas.edu/news/newsletter/2005/fall/tedconvo.html

Healing

The facilitator of our veterans art group gave all of us a copy of this. She mentioned the author’s name. I can’t remember it, although I remember that the author is a woman. If I could give her credit, I would. Although considering what she wrote, I doubt that she would mind me posting her words. They speak for themselves.

Healing

Takes place in our natural rhythm.

We are creatures of nature. Nature moves: MEDIUM TO SLOW.

Stay in the natural rhythm. Danger: the fast lane!!! Stay out of it. It can be dangerous.
Only go in the fast lane for brief moments.

Longings: what is calling me? There are many longings at various junctures in our life.

Longing=belonging. What new experience do I long for?


Ask these questions of yourself every day.

1.What made me happy today?

2.Where did I experience comfort, peace, deep satisfaction, and contentment?

3.Who or what inspired me today?

If I track my happiness I will find “fire.” I will identify what I need—what I long for.