Letters to Home from Vietnam

My brother, Jim, was flying to Vietnam just as astronauts Armstrong, Aldrin and Collins were hurling towards the moon on Apollo 11. It was July 1969 and Jim had just turned twenty. He spent a year in combat and his platoon was attached, at least part of the time to the 173rd Airborne Brigade. I was sixteen, and to say the least, naive about what dangers he was about to face. My parents never discussed politics or the war, but I remember my mother sending packages of bread, socks, batteries, candy and other things he requested. I had no idea Jim wrote letters to my parents, until he passed away last year after a long difficult illness.

When attended his memorial service in California I was delighted that his wife, Cindy, shared with me a packet of letters from Jim to my parents. I was amazed to receive them, read every word and transcribed them. As children, Jim was fun and sweet. I saw that again in the letters. He used to tease me like big brothers did, and I remember how determined he was to grow his hair long and wear bell bottoms in high school, which my father railed against.

I was so grateful to see his handwriting and to read his sentences. He was a very good writer who thought about details. It was touching how much he depended on “goodies” sent from home. He talked about his duties as a soldier, as well as his fears and longing for home. This is an ending of a six page letter:

Page 6

I'm expecting these packages any day now. Wish they'd hurry up and get here. I'm getting hungry for some decent food from back in the world. I really look forward to the goodies. 

Well that's about all for now. I gotta go clean my mortar and get ready to fire tonight. I'll write a few lines tomorrow. Love, Jim

I have written poems based on his letters and it’s helped trigger memories about my family. The letters seem to lend themselves to poetry and I’ve thought a lot about what it means to take his words and rework their form, adding line breaks and pauses. How could they be part of a memoir of that year from my point of view as a high school senior? Or a fictionalized novel in verse? I’m not sure what this will evolve into, but it’s been meaningful to me.

I’ll share one of many. 

QUIET NIGHT IN VIETNAM, 1969
 

 There’s nothing happening.
 I worry it’s so quiet. 
 
 This fire base hasn’t been hit
 in over 30 days, but
 before that, 
 it was hit
 two or three
 times a night.
 
 My C.O. said this
 place has taken more
 enemy rounds
 than any place in Vietnam
 except Ben Het. 
 
 That’s hard to believe
 because
 it’s so damn quiet. 
 
 One of these days 
 I’m gonna leave this place
 forever
 and it will be behind me
 for good. 

 And I wonder how I’m gonna act. 
 
 ©Janice Scully 2020
Jim, Cindy and baby Jim in the 1970’s.

Welcome to Poetry Friday! Rebecca Herzog is our host at Sloth Reads.

6 thoughts on “Letters to Home from Vietnam”

  1. I love your project and enjoyed the poem you shared today. You are giving his words new life, and though his letters are personal ones, his experiences and emotions about serving in Vietnam will resonate with so many of those who have served as well as their families. A poignant project for you, I’m sure.

    I was fascinated by Jim’s handwriting. Was he left-handed? We see so little penmanship these days that I love analyzing it. One’s cursive tells a story all its own. 🙂

    1. He was right handed I’m sure. It was very interesting to see his writing from when he was so young. Thank you for your wonderful comment.

  2. Thanks for this poignant and fascinating post. What a treasure, to read those letters after so long. Your poem pulls me right in. Whether or not you decide to pursue these memories further, they have made an impact at this moment.

  3. Thank you for sharing this glimpse into Jim’s time in Vietnam (and your family’s experience at home). You’re right that it lends itself beautifully to poetry! This stanza is poignant because we know it won’t really be, but we wish it could:
    One of these days
    I’m gonna leave this place
    forever
    and it will be behind me
    for good.

  5. You hold a treasure in your hands, Janice, for you and your family but also all of us. Being at war, being IN war is so mysterious to me, so opaque–maybe the way the day to day of being a teacher is invisible to most people. I can’t wait to read more of Jim’s words passed through your sister’s prism.

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