My Father was drafted into the Vietnam war. Below is from a book he wrote this year for out family.

“During my time in Vietnam, I saw first-hand honorable, courageous helicopter pilots, infantry men and other soldiers, most of whom were draftees who didn’t want to be there in the first place, let their country put them in harm’s way, heading into dangerous situations every day, but when they returned home, it was not to a hero’s welcome. Most who returned home alive like myself, returned unceremoniously, mostly ignored. Some returned with boos and got spit on. The public in general had turned against the war and took it out on the GIs when they should have taken it out on the politicians. In typical fashion, the media hyped rare situations like the Mi Li incident, and some portrayed the lot of us as baby killers. Isn’t it ironic that most left-wing “liberals”, the ones most deeply involved in pro-abortion politics, were the ones yelling “baby killer.” The fact was, most of us were peace loving citizens that answered the call of duty when required and just wanted to get back home alive. Many of us Nam vets have absolutely no respect for President Jimmy Carter, who granted amnesty to those who fled to Canada to avoid military service. Carter turned guys like me into a bunch of unappreciated chumps. I understand why some people fled to Canada, but they should have lived out the consequences of their decision as refugees in Canada. There are untold thousands of drafted GIs who came back injured in body and mind, and 57,000 whose names are on a wall in Washington D. C. who put on their big-boy pants and served their country against their will, gave the ultimate sacrifice, and didn’t make it back alive.

Mine is only one story out of thousands. I’m sure there are many thousand stories worse than mine. I’m certain PTSD has been severely under-diagnosed in Vietnam vets. Guerilla warfare, where you don’t know who your enemy is but he is all around you, and you never know when or where he might strike, wears heavily on your mind. It’s easy for paranoia to set in.

I hadn’t given much thought to this until I wrote this chapter because I have been trying to forget for 50 years that I was ever in Nam, but I now realize that I came close to potential death several times by just about every method you could in war, but came out without a scratch. I escaped bullets flying around when we drove into a fire fight. I survived being mortared on a helipad at a special forces outpost that had been shot at all night and day before. I survived a scorpion sting. I missed out on running over a road mine and getting ambushed on the road by minutes. I survived what I thought was a sure helicopter crash in the Delta. And, I survived a close call with potential friendly fire during an ambush mission. All without a scratch. Truly, God was watching over me while I was losing my faith. I know Mom was praying for me. I’m pretty sure Dad was, too. In fact, I think he made sort of a deal with God. The week I came home from Nam, Dad quit smoking, cold turkey.”