June 25 More About Max

This letter from June 25th is the last letter from June. And wouldn’t you know it, I start off talking about cookies. I’m telling ya, my cookie obsession must be a Viet Nam leftover. Anyway, here goes: “Dear mom, dad, Steve, and Sue. Ok mom, I’m going to say this once and then I don’t want to hear any more about it. Your cookies are always eaten and appreciated. They have never become stale. I received Mrs. Kenny’s package and it also was appreciated. Mrs. Parker’s stuff has all come through ok. I don’t remember if I thanked them or not. Monsoon season is getting into full swing and it’s more difficult to find time to write. As you can probably tell, this stationary I’m using is damp. It’s very difficult to keep anything dry. And now it’s beginning to rain again. We’re out in the field 15 days and back at the LZ for 5. That’s when we get our packages. I need more stationary (no envelopes) and some more Bic pens. Also I could use another pair of fingernail clippers and a church key can opener as the ones I have now have gotten pretty rusty.

“You can’t expect me to send you pictures if you don’t send me any, right? Actually, if I had any I would send them home. The pics you sent of the ones I took were lost when I lost my album a couple of months ago. Sorry, combat loss, you know.

“Max (John Maxson) was 20 years old when he was killed. He was married, but due to bad blood mixture his first and only child died in childbirth. John used to carry around a small tape recorder and he and his wife would exchange tapes. John didn’t go to college, but he had a good job as a civilian and had a promising future. Well, he was foolish and lost his life because of it and damn near cost me mine.” I apologize for that last statement to any of John’s family who read this. It’s hard to write about grief, regret and survivor’s guilt shortly after the attack. There is a lot of emotion packed into parts of this letter. Back to it; “When we went into Tay Ninh for a one day breather after our hellacious week, a newspaper reporter wanted to talk to me about what happened, but I didn’t want to talk about it, so we didn’t get together. So it looks like I’m sort of a half ass hero whether I want to be or not. I was put in for a Bronze Star, but that won’t bring Max or our old Lt back. And even though I was put in for it, it doesn’t mean that I’ll get it.

“Another thing I wanted to say, I don’t want to hear any more about Terry’s tough life in the Army, and I don’t want to hear about his stupid brother. If that lifer bastard ever came to this company, I’d be over the hill before he could introduce himself. I think I told you the LZ was hit hard. 6 killed and about 40 wounded. But my outgoing mail was blown away, three of my letters – one to you, one to somebody else, and another to somebody else. I don’t even remember who I wrote. Oh well, back to the LZ in a couple of days. My poor feet are rotting away. Otherwise I’m in good shape.

“Let me know what you decide to do concerning Natraj’s Tailors and Hong Kong so I can write to them and let them know. I really appreciate all you’ve done for me since I’ve been here, and I’m sure we’ll all get along well when I get home. Sometimes I get the feeling that Rob wishes he was over here.” My brother Rob was a Marine and stationed in DC at the time. “I don’t know why. I just get that feeling.

“Steve, sorry about you losing the hair battle. People bitch about the government taking away their rights – little by little, but the ‘family institution’ also plays a part in removing the rights of an individual. I can already see dad’s arguments on that as I’ve heard them before and he does have a point. But if you’ve got a belief, stick to it.

“ Dad, I feel like I would like to work for you or with you. It’s too early to say now, but I feel like I’d like to help you get Seal Master really going.” I did try this when I got out. I worked for him for one summer and decided instead that it was time for me to go back to school. Seal Master was a company that water proofed brick bldgs, ie; schools, the phone company, etc. It was a really good product and the work was hard and long and messy. “Money is always the problem and to really develop something you’ve got to be loaded yourself or get backers. Sometimes you have to swallow pride and give a little. But I’ve got a lot of faith in you. I’ve seen what you’ve been capable of doing in the past – and like you’ve always told mom, ‘You’ve got a roof over your head and your eating so stop worrying.’ You have no idea how much I’ve come to appreciate those two basic necessities. After you’ve been rained on every night with little or no shelter and you’ve been forced to eat canned and dehydrated food for 7 months on end, you appreciate things you’ve taken for granted in the past.

“I’ve caused you all a lot of problems in the past and I hope I can make these up to you in the future. But it’s my life and I’m going to have to live it on my own. I’m optimistic about my future (if I can get out of this mess) and although my beliefs on many subjects are different from yours, I think I’ll be happy – and you won’t be ashamed to call me your son. You’ve helped me a lot since I’ve been here – things I couldn’t take care of myself without a lot of hassle, and I’m grateful.

“I’ve received a letter from John – and he’s back on the ‘good guy’ list. Susan (from Texas) also tells me that Ray wants to know why I haven’t written him in the last two months – so it seems I owe him letter and he’s not at fault. I’m going to try to catch up on my letter writing back at the LZ this time. Guess that’s it for now. Take care all, Love Dave.”

A couple of things here. I can’t believe that I was actually giving my dad advice. Mostly I remember he and I butting heads whenever we were together. At times it was quiet fuming and at others loud and/or threatening. A year or two before he died my sister asked me to come home and take care of him while she looked for competent full time live in care. I think we patched up our relationship pretty well, although he would still call me a “stoopid bastid” on occasion. What a character, right?

I also wish I could remember thoughts, feelings an events surrounding Max’s death. I understand he received the Silver Star posthumously. He deserved it. My gut tells me he was trying to save our Lt when he was shot.

On a lighter note, Ray was a friend from Fort Worth best remembered for the phrase “More beer!” immediately after hurling an empty beer can at the living room wall where we’d briefly lived together before I got drafted. I’ve been asked about the days, weeks, and months leading up to me being drafted. That would be another blog. I recently received a stack of letters from the Jennifer that I mention in some of my letters. Through a bizarre series of events, we have again been in contact with each other, and she saved all the letters I wrote to her before and during Viet Nam. She gave them to me, but I have not read them yet. More about this later. I am also adding several more pictures with Max in them. The next letter is from July 2^nd. The envelope also contains a letter to me from Brenda Lee from Hong Kong. Shall I include it? We’ll see next Monday, June 13^th. Happy trails!