Tonight, Tim and I sat outside on the porch with my Uncle eating BLTs.
This time he came to town with something I’ve been requesting for quite some time. Photographs and old slides from his time in Vietnam.
There were books and books of pictures. Out of all of them, I think I’d only ever seen two or three before. He even had a nice yearbook of sorts. He said that one of the guys had a professional photographer come out and snap portraits of everyone. My Uncle never knew why, until he got this hardcover book in the mail afterwards. The last name of all the men was typed under their photograph. My Uncle wrote in the first names of the men he was close to and “K.I.A” under those that were lost.
Surprisingly, and for the first time, he was very open and shared many stories before we asked any questions. Of course, many of the photos were hard to view and many of the stories were hard to hear. Listening to my Uncle talk in detail about walking point gave me a whole new respect for him. It was nice hearing stories of comradery and antics that took place during the few chances the soldiers had to be lighthearted.
Words cannot describe how grateful I am that he shared this with us.
