I’m a Vietnam Vet, so I’m a Hero, Right?
Well, No. Actually
Back in 1968 I “won” the lottery and was drafted into the Australian Army.
It was, in a strange way, a relief to be sent to Vietnam: the saying “If it moves, salute it; if doesn’t, polish it” was (and I’m sure still is) a fair description of life in a peacetime army.
Following a flight on a Qantas 707 to Saigon’s Tan Son Nhat airport (with a stopover in Singapore: we were allowed off the plane but had to wear a T-shirt, pretending we weren’t really soldiers; a couple of hundred guys in army pants, boots, and haircuts was a real disguise!) we were loaded onto a Lockheed C130 “Hercules” for the last leg of the trip to the Australian base at Nui Dat.
But the airstrip was fogged over so we headed on to Cam Rahn Bay to wait for the fog to clear.
It was here I got my introduction to Vietnam.
Welcome to Vietnam!
While we waited for the fog to clear in Nui Dat we were offloaded into an enormous, open air waiting area where thousands of American soldiers were cooling their heels until their flights to wherever they were going took off.
Naturally, we started talking to the Yanks near us. Beside me was this 19-year old who enthusiastically announced that he’d just arrived for his second tour of duty and he was here “to kill some gooks!” As if to demonstrate he sprayed the entire waiting area with an imaginary submachine gun.
Upon reflection, I think this guy was the only “hero” material I met during my entire time in Vietnam.
Nevertheless, I felt sick.
I certainly wasn’t in Vietnam to kill anyone. Like most people I have an aversion to killing. A mere 2% or so of the world’s population lack that aversion (if you doubt me see On Killing by US Army Lt-Colonel Dave Grossman). Indeed, the entire time I was in Vietnam I didn’t fire my rifle even once.
If I had what it takes to be a hero (and I’m not sure I do) I never had the opportunity to perform any act that could have been considered heroic.
What’s more, that was true for the majority of Australian soldiers in Vietnam and, I’m sure, of the majority of American soldiers too.
The reason is simple: for every soldier in the frontline, who’s likely to be shot at by the enemy, there are two, three, or more soldiers supporting him (or, these days, her) from the safety of a well-defended base.
For example, I was in the artillery; “nine-mile snipers” if you asked a “grunt” from the infantry. Though this “gunner” (the artillery equivalent of private in the Australian and British armies), was stationed safely (more than nine miles from the action) in the middle of the Australian army base at Nui Dat, operating a radio, not a howitzer in the field.
I was definitely part of the “back office.” As was the rest of my platoon.
True, many soldiers face danger, are wounded or even killed in action, and perform heroic acts under fire. Sometimes, no doubt, from desperation rather than conscious intent.
They are heroes; the rest of us—the “back office” soldiers—are not.
If facing danger and/or saving other people’s lives makes you a hero, there are plenty of other candidates who are rarely acknowledged.
Scaffolders, for example, face danger every day. While they may not be “saving the country,” their work is nevertheless crucial in our society.
What about firefighters? Part of their job is to go into burning buildings to pull people out before they burn to death. When they fight forest fires or bush fires they save people’s homes, farms, and often lives as well.
Other dangerous professions include deep sea diving (you can be eaten by a shark), policemen, miners (mines can collapse), and fishermen (about 55 deaths per 100,000 in the US).
Even giving birth can be life-threatening: 1 death per 3,500 births in the US.
But the most dangerous industry of all is logging, with over 132 deaths per 100,000 workers.
If these professions were treated by the same criteria as military personnel, they’d all be classified as heroes whether they’d ever done something heroic or not.
Personally, I resent being classified as a hero simply because I was in the army in a war zone. Which is why I cringe when the military is glorified and military service is equated, automatically, with being heroic.
As happened recently when I was told “You’ve done enough,” by a medical professional when she learnt I was a Vietnam veteran.
I replied: “On the contrary, I was conscripted to be part of a down payment on an insurance policy with a bankrupt insurer.”⁽²⁷⁾
Let me explain what I meant.
The Australian government sent soldiers to Vietnam to demonstrate their support for the United States. The government’s story was that the government of South Vietnam had requested Australia’s help. This was not the case at all. Neither had the United States asked Australia to send troops.
Nor had there been any requests under the SEATO (Southeast Asia Treaty Organization) or ANZUS (Australia, New Zealand, and the US) treaties. Though those treaties were invoked as supporting arguments along with the “domino theory” that projected that countries would fall to communism, one after the other, like arguments along with the “domino theory” that projected that countries would fall to communism, one after the other, like dominoes, if not stopped somewhere along the way.
⁽²⁷⁾ As the US government can print money, it never runs out. But in real life, spending more than you earn results in bankruptcy.
Australia (along with New Zealand) looks to the United States to help defend them from any military threats. The rationale for the ANZUS treaty.
But unlike most such treaties, like NATO, none of the three parties to ANZUS are committed by the treaty to come to another member’s aid. For example, if Australia (or another ANZUS member) was invaded the other parties to the treaty are committed to merely consider whether they might offer military or other help. There is no requirement for them to do so.
So the “Anzacs” were in Vietnam in the hope that whenever they needed American help, the Yanks would come to the party.
With no guarantee that they would.
Similarly, when the US invaded Iraq and Afghanistan, Australia joined in.
And we all know how those wars ended up . . . in total failure. For example, consider the movie Apocalypse Now.⁽²⁸⁾
I saw it when it first came out. Coincidentally, coming out of the movie theater I bumped into an American friend who (like me) had been in Vietnam.
“That’s just what it was like!” he enthused about the movie.
“No wonder you guys lost the war,” I replied.
Other dangerous professions include deep sea diving (you can be eaten by a shark), policemen, miners (mines can collapse), and fishermen (about 55 deaths per 100,000 in the US).
Even giving birth can be life-threatening: 1 death per 3,500 births in the US.
But the most dangerous industry of all is logging, with over 132 deaths per 100,000 workers.
If these professions were treated by the same criteria as military personnel, they’d all be classified as heroes whether they’d ever done something heroic or not.