I returned from Vietnam in March, 1968  about four weeks earlier than my planned rotation to go to Honolulu to testify at the trial of the thugs who robbed us on Diamond Head while I was there on R&R in October, 1967.  This story is documented below (Can you tell me why you wrote those serial numbers down?) so I won’t dwell on it here other than to say thank you to them for probably saving my life.

One of the most beautiful sights in my life was seeing the Golden Gate Bridge in its “redsplendent” glory as our plane landed in San Francisco.  Shortly I was on my way to Kennedy Airport in New York.  I had a good break between leaving Vietnam and arriving at home for good.  There are few who understand what it means to be fighting a war one day and going home a few days later.  I had survived and I knew that I had changed in many ways.  Even fewer understand that the trauma of war doesn’t go away.  It is always there along with the tears on Veteran’s Day.  No one who tasted blood in combat is ever again the same person.  I had to reconcile that.  One of the great advantages of an education is that you know you have to climb that mountain.  Suddenly, I was at Kennedy and there was my wife Susan and my parents.  I cannot adequately describe my emotions other than a delicious release of tension, overwhelming joy, and a combination of love and lust.

My 20 days at home before reporting to my next duty station were filled with joy of being with my wife and having a profoundly heightened sense of appreciation for what we have in America.  The air was fresh and clean.  Food was plentiful and wonderful.  We took a few days to go to Martha’s Vineyard to see old friends.  I bought a 1968 candy apple red Mustang with a V-8 engine and all the options possible.  I rejoiced when Lyndon Johnson announced his decision not to run for a second term as President.  Just as quickly, I was on a plane heading south to Camp LeJeune, NC where I was sent to the 2^nd Battalion, 8^th Marine Regiment.  This turned out to be one of the biggest shocks of the summer!

When I reported aboard, the First Sergeant told me that I was to be sent to the US Naval Base in Guantanamo Bay, Cuba to serve out my enlistment.  2/8 was missioned with the defense of the Naval Base.  Most returning Vietnam Veterans arriving at Camp LeJeune with short periods remaining on their enlistment were sent to Cuba.  However, the heat stroke that I had suffered in Vietnam resulted in a restriction in my medical record for serving in high heat.  They also discovered my documented organizational skills so I was retained at Camp LeJeune where I set up the first, organized Legal & Joins Office for the Battalion.  The Company Captain, Adjutant, and First Sergeant were all actually shocked at how quickly and efficient I made the process of joining 2/8 for incoming Marines.  I was able to tell Susan to come to Camp LeJeune when she was done teaching.

Life as the Sergeant-in-charge of the Legal & Joins Office was a lot more interesting than I expected.  Because we were in Headquarters, we had strict adherence to military discipline, grooming and clothing standards, frequent inspections, and total formality.  Woe came to those who thought they could flaunt regulations because “they had been in the Nam”.  As these transgressors faced non-judicial punishment, they quickly learned that infractions were met with loss of rank, loss of pay, and loss of privileges.  I was kept busy documenting these proceedings while joining 20 to 40 Marines a week.

It became my responsibility to tell incoming Marines that they were going to Cuba.  As Marines, most of them took the news in a professional but resigned manner and got on with their lives.  However, there were exceptions.  Some would lose their temper and shout at me while some would be very sarcastic and somewhat threatening.  I learned very quickly how to become firm and hard.  Since I outranked most of them, it wasn’t a problem to intimidate them into compliance.  I soon got a reputation for toughness but being fair which I carried with me for the rest of my working life.

Susan and I were very happy in our little apartment just off the Base.  We had crazy neighbors, all of whom were veterans of some of the worst fighting in the Vietnam War.  We all got along very well because we all could relate with each other so our time there was a pleasure.

1968 was a watershed year in American history.  The Civil Rights movement had burgeoned into an unstoppable force for change.  The protests against the conflict in Vietnam intensified.  Washington was in an uproar as the Presidential campaign was fought.  Two American Leaders were assassinated that summer.  Dr. Martin Luther King died in Tennessee while Robert Kennedy was killed in California.  Both of those deaths resulted in incredible escalations of protests, demonstrations, and civil disobedience.

Camp LeJeune was very much impacted by the swirling winds of history.  There were protests by black Marines in support of civil rights which were crushed by a Military worried about maintaining discipline.  Protestors against the war appeared in Jacksonville but were dealt with equally harshly by a population largely sympathetic to the military.  There was always an underlying racial tension everywhere or so it seemed.  I can’t really recall much racial strife in Vietnam because we were fighting and frankly there was no room for any kind of problem if you wanted to stay alive.  However, back on Base, the climate changed and not for the better.  There were frequent fights between Whites and Blacks.  Military discipline was applied very strictly.

My workload in Legal went up with the tensions.  We had at least three NJPs a week.  In addition to the punishments such a loss of rank and pay, a fight would land you in Cuba immediately and a guaranteed miserable time for the rest of your enlistment.   It broke my heart when one of my best buddies from Vietnam, an African American from Arkansas, gave me a cold shoulder when he checked in to 2/8.  It was an ugly time for everyone.

In August, I was granted leave to spend a week on Martha’s Vineyard with my parents at their cottage in Oak Bluffs on the Methodist Campground.  During our week there, the Campground held its Grand Illumination when the small Victorian gingerbread houses are covered with illuminated Japanese lanterns.  Thousands of people swirled through the magical moment.  I sat on our porch in my Marine Corps Dress Blues.  Everyone who walked by were respectful which surprised me given the tenor of the times.

During the summer, I completed the process for applying to a US Agency.  The process was long, vetting took months, and, at the end of the summer, wasn’t yet complete.  As the vetting ground forward, other opportunities started to open up from places that I had not anticipated.  I was torn among finishing Grad School; joining a US Government Agency; or, joining the business world (which I ultimately chose).

September came and went seemingly as quickly as the last several months.  On 1 October, I was called to the Battalion Colonel’s Office.  While I stood at attention, he offered me a commission as a second lieutenant.  I respectfully asked for a day to “discuss it with my wife”.  My request was granted.  That evening, Susan and I “talked about it, laughed about it, and forgot about it”.  The next morning I respectfully declined the opportunity to a very unhappy Battalion Commander.  On 2 October, we drove out of the Base and into the next phase of our lives.   At that point in time I was done with the Military but how things can change.

This concludes my series on the SUMMER OF 19XX.  I wrote these pieces to show one young man’s challenges in the mid-1960’s.  More than a few of us had to make life and relationship changing decisions while faced with the spectre of the Beast otherwise known as Vietnam.  During this time, there was no volunteer military so your life was dictated by a local Draft Board tasked with filling quotas.  I was fortunate enough to have had two very excellent professors in College that helped me through the process of making some of the hard decisions that needed to be made.  They showed me the future and they were right.