My Birth and My Death

[Rocky]

Today marks the day I died and the day I was born. . . today marks the beginning of a life's journey that is still moving forward, although, there are those repeated steps back in time that make like today different than I ever expected life to be. On this day, in 1967, I along with the men in my unit, Bravo Company, 4th BN, 173rd Airborne Brigade (Sep) stood at the base of Hill 875, Dak To, Vietnam and, unknowingly, started our future in the face. We did not know, then, that we were facing an enemy more than 4 times our size that was dug in and well armed; we didn't know then that most of the guys we were with that day would soon be dead or so badly wounded that we would never see them again once they left the battle field; we didn't know, then ,that some of us would die that day but remain among the living in the body of a man; we didn't know, then, that some of us, some 42 years later, would be sitting at a computer writing about this day, this week, and having it consume our every thought; we didn't know, then,. . . .

No, we didn't know, then, that in the year of 2009 that we few survivors would look back on this day, this week, in such awe and still wonder how, why, we made it out alive. . . we didn't know, then, that some would come to wish that they had not made it out alive and sit this day an ponder suicide just from the shear pain of the memories. Yet, as I write this, somewhere, in some town or city, somewhere in America today, a survivor from Hill 875 and the Battles of Dak To, or some other equally as horrible a memory, sits and thinks about taking his own life.

Today, as the beginning of the horror of Hill 875 begins in "Anniversary Memory", which seems to be stronger and more alive than everyday day, 365 days as year, memory, I think about all those who survived the Hill and wonder if they too are sitting and thinking about the Hill, the brothers we lost, and life as we know it today. . . yet, I don't wonder for I know they are thinking about it just as am I. I know that they, like I, feel the emptiness, the confusion, the utter loss of self, in a sense, the lack of wholeness and purpose. The reality, in my opinion, is that at this moment, and each person has their own defining moment, I died and was born, simultaneously, as it manifest itself in a burst of gunfire and explosions, a thunderours roar of combat urupting. The person that I was, even though I was not a cherrie by this time having already survived the battles for Hill 830 and 823, was no more and a new person was given life, reality, awareness, the person I am today, who, at times is a total stranger to me. I know I am not alone in this realization, if it is a realization and not just another random thought of my jumbled psyche. Who knows just like who knows where I am going with this, why I am writing it. . . ? Just the ramblings of one lost in bad memories at present and laying it on your becase you may understand. . . .