Dear Donna, It's Only 45 Hours from Bien Hoa
Stories from the Vietnam War
by
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"A walk in the sun? You could be right, but it would be the first fu-----’ time," Covelli said, while playfully wagging a finger at me. "Was the movie any good?" "It’s an excellent movie," I replied. "The only bad part is the medic gets killed." "Well, that’s no great loss," he shot back. I ignored the friendly insult. Watching the captain and Sergeant Costal discuss the patrol and check their maps on the hood of a jeep was more important. The captain seemed to be agreeing with everything Sarge said. "Saddle it up! Move out this way!" Sergeant Costal snapped, walking back toward us. "Lock and load," he added. We moved down the road with weapons ready. We didn’t know what we would find in the rice paddies, or what would find us. We began working our way over the steel framework of a long neglected bridge. The cross boards had been stolen by peasants or rotted away. The wooden parts remaining were few and far between. We were suspended on the frame with the scorching sun above and the sucking, slimy muck, leeches, and water ten feet below. "Where is this asshole taking us?" Covelli spat, as he gestured with his head toward the captain. "The hell with him. Pay attention to what you’re doing," I replied, "because if you fall off this bridge into that muddy mess below, you are a goner. I’m the only one in this platoon that loves you, and I’m not gonna fish you out." "I hate this. What the hell are we doing out here. We’re engineers – road and bridge builders – not the infantry. I feel like a duck in a shooting gallery on this bridge. I can just feel a gook sniper taking a bead on me. I’m too short to be doing this sh--. I’m going home in 29 days," Covelli ranted. "Did I ever tell you I’m afraid of heights?" I asked, trying to change the subject. "I once walked across the George Washington Bridge from New Jersey to New York with some high school friends. I was scared sh--less then, too." My knuckles were turning white as my hands grabbed the angle iron framework tightly. The underside was pitted with countless layers of corrosion covering my palms with a bloodlike coating of dusty red rust. "You’re right about this walk in the sun crap, and you know what else?" Ray had bitching down to an art form, and there was just no stopping him once he got started. "The captain is carrying that AK-47 rifle that he probably bought on the black market. The real reason we’re out here is so he can shoot that stupid thing. He’ll probably get us into a firefight, shoot himself in the foot, and get me killed." "If you don’t shut up, I’ll shoot you," I shot back. "Now dammit, get your ass across this bridge."
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About the Book
"That's because they (The Vietnamese) hate us and they'd like to see our sorry asses go home or go to hell. They don't give a shit about being saved from communism. And I got more news for you," Covelli fumed. "What's that?" I asked. "There are a whole bunch of people back in the World who hate you, too. Answer this, Doc," he persisted. "What color hats do the good guys usually wear in a western movie?" "White, but I don't understand how that-" "What color hat you wearin', Doc?" he interrupted. "Green, " I replied. "Exactly," he spat. And he turned and walked away. What is it about the Vietnam War that haunts America and the veterans of that conflict decades after the fighting was declared officially over? Was the experience of Vietnam Veterans different from veterans of other wars? Dear Donna, Its only 45 Hours from Bien Hoa, is a personal account of a year in Vietnam as seen through the eyes of a twenty-two-year-old elementary school teacher turned Army medic, as he tries to survive his year long tour of duty in Vietnam. He's Doc to the members of the 36th Engineer Battalion, whose mission is to build a road and bridges through the hostile swamps of the Mekong River Delta. What happens to Doc and the other young men serving with him while they experience the surreal random destruction wrought by war is sometimes deep and tragic, and, at times, heartwarming and funny. The book is filled with short stories and anecdotes that will reveal experiences common to most Vietnam Veterans. If you have questions about the Vietnam War, or about Vietnam Veterans, the characters you will meet in the short stories and vignettes on the pages of this book might provide some clues and perhaps some answers for you. As Sergeant Costal would say: "Saddle it up and move it out." Enjoy the book.
About the Author
I keep seeing ads on TV that feature people who are
trim and physically fit in their Dockers and their Calvin Kleins. These folks
always seem to have a good hair day while they drive their Mercedes or Lincoln
Town Cars. Conflicts and problems seem nonexistent while they fly the friendly
skies to Disney, Vegas or the Cayman Islands. Their lives seem so neat and
tidy.
Does your life have that Leave it to Beaver quality, or does this sound more familiar?
Having too much work and too little time no matter how early you get up or how
late you go to bed. Struggling to balance the demands of marriage, family,
career, education, finance, recreation, and personal interests. Having to deal
with too much traffic and too many complications, with too little time and too few
resources. Always dying for some, but never getting enough – coffee that is. Subscribing
to the "I know that life requires some assembly but this is
ridiculous" philosophy. Now you are in my neighborhood.
But even with all its trials and tribulations, isn't
life good? It's been more than thirty years since my return from Vietnam, so
that puts me in my mid-fifties and makes me (Oh, my God don't say it!) a baby
boomer. So what have I done with my life? (This is the part where the
publishers want you to brag but be nice about it, and, I guess, I am forced to
indulge them.) In a nutshell I am:
Still happily married to my wife Donna (After 30
years she apparently still likes me-go figure!). But why is it that she still
looks like she could be my son's older sister and I have thinning hair and far
too many wrinkles and sags?
The father of two terrific and intelligent young
adults who worship their father. I attribute this to the fact that when they
were younger we used to have admiration hour. They would have to sit and admire
me for an hour each night. It was tough for me, but a dad has to do what a dad
has to do. (I'm kidding, of course-not about the two great kids, but that
admiration hour thing. Who ever has an extra hour to sit around and be admired?
Ridiculous! The very idea!)
An award-winning teacher who still deeply enjoys the
profession. There are teaching awards, certificates, and diplomas hanging on a
wall in my living room. It's not that I don't complain a bit now and then,
especially about commuting and parking (after over thirty years in an urban
school district, these are serious issues!), but I still bring as much energy,
creativity, and excitement to class each day as these old bones can muster.
Looking forward to seeing the students is still exciting (some students more
than others), and they seem to like and respect me.
The author of a unique book about Vietnam, and a
decorated Vietnam Veteran. Citations, letters of commendation, and a medals
case also hang on my living room wall. There is a collection of Vietnam War
related books, movies, and songs in our house. The Vietnam War is not an
all-consuming passion, but family time and resources have been and will
continue to be dedicated to this issue. Once a Vietnam Vet, always a Vietnam
Vet.
This is but a glimpse of who and what I am. It is my hope that the reader will learn
more about my Vietnam experience through reading this book.