The experiences of combat veterans often share many similarities — courage under fire, bonds forged in adversity, and the lifelong echoes of war. Yet, the story of those who served in Vietnam stands apart. For many of us, returning home did not mean returning to gratitude or understanding. Instead, it meant facing a nation divided, a society that often confused the warrior with the war. The Vietnam veteran’s story is not just one of battlefields and bravery, but also of resilience — the kind of resilience required to rebuild one’s life when the welcome home was silence. It leads to an important question: where did we fail the others?
From 1970 to 1971, I served in the 2nd Battalion, 502nd Infantry Regiment of the 101st Airborne Division — the “O-Deuce” of the “Screaming Eagles.” As an 11 Bravo infantryman, I walked the jungles and rice paddies of Vietnam, facing not only the enemy in front of us but also the uncertainty of what awaited us when we came home. We were young — many of us barely out of our teens — doing what our country asked of us, believing in duty and service. But when the fighting ended, and the uniform came off, many of us found that our country wasn’t ready to accept us back.
When I was drafted, I was a high school dropout with little direction. Like many veterans, I wrestled with the question of who I was beyond the uniform. But I made a choice — to push forward, to redefine what my service meant in civilian life. I pursued my education, eventually earning a Bachelor’s Degree in Business and Education. That decision became the turning point of my life. It opened doors I never imagined possible, allowing me to rise through the corporate world and ultimately serve as Chief Information Officer in several organizations. It wasn’t an easy path, but it proved something I had already learned in Vietnam: perseverance and lifelong learning are the proper tools of survival.
Yet, not every veteran was afforded the same opportunity or support. Many of my brothers in arms struggled in silence — haunted by memories, dismissed by employers, and misunderstood by their communities. The nation’s failure was not only in how it waged the war, but in how it treated those who fought it. We were trained for combat but not prepared for rejection. The systems of care and recognition we have today — counseling, job programs, and veteran advocacy — came largely because Vietnam veterans refused to be forgotten. We demanded better not only for ourselves, but for every generation that would follow.
Looking back, I realize that our strength was never just in surviving the battlefield — it was in surviving the return. We learned that service doesn’t end when the war does; it continues in the way we live, lead, and lift others. The question “Where did we fail the others?” still lingers, but perhaps the answer lies in our ongoing effort to ensure that no veteran ever faces the kind of isolation we did.
Today, I share my story not for sympathy, but for understanding. The Vietnam experience should serve as both a warning and a lesson. We cannot change the past, but we can honor it by ensuring that every man and woman who serves is met with the gratitude, care, and dignity they deserve. Our country must remember — the accurate measure of patriotism isn’t just how we send our soldiers to war, but how we welcome them home.
One of the best reflections on how many felt is encapsulated in the dialogue for Rambo: First Blood, written by Sylvester Stallone. He encapsulates what many felt when they returned to the ‘WORLD.”
