In Memoriam

“Gotta get down to it, Soldiers are cutting us down

Should have been done long ago

What if you knew her, and found her dead on the ground

How can you run when you know?”

“Ohio” by Crosby, Stills & Nash

Trying to finish unpacking from a recent move, I first came upon a box that held the last saved treasures of my past; my L.P.N. name tag from my first career as a nurse, the mouthpiece from the french horn I played from 3rd through 12th grade, (not my idea), an old small luggage lock with the key inserted, a small silver unicorn, the Indian nickel I had been looking for, some papers, a choker from when that was in style, (and might still be usable in certain situations), and the P.O.W bracelet I wore. Later while sorting through my picture boxes, I would find the letter that gave me the permission to remove that bracelet and put it away, realizing how much resolve, courage and resilience it took one individual in order to allow me to perform that one simple act.

I was a child of the sixties and seventies and we were deep in revolution, a changing of the guard so to speak, and it wasn’t just one thing, it was generational, cultural, social, political. It was the Environmental movement, Women’s rights, the Antiwar movement, Watergate scandal, Conservative backlash, Hippies, music, fashion and LSD. It was tumultuous and chaotic, loud and threatening. Multiple forces pushed against the establishment and the establishment holding the line as long as they could. And you felt it, you heard it, consumed it and lived it. My earliest recollection of any event that occurred beyond the confines of my childhood home was the assasination of John F. Kennedy; they sent us home from school. I was young and remembered coming into the house and finding it dark, blinds closed and my mother crying. Odd. I didn’t comprehend what was happening but I felt the heaviness, the pure sadness, and this feeling was only validated further by my mother’s demonstration of an emotion she was pretty much devoid of. But as the world mourned and the only conversations, news reports and television coverage was of our slain president and his wife’s bloody dress, I came to know that it was a very terrible tragedy and unforgivable loss.

One and one-half years later, we entered the Vietnam war, but it wasn’t until five years later when four students at Kent State University, participating in an anti-war protest, were killed by the Ohio National Guard who opened fire on them, that the state of the union was really brought home to me and maybe to a great many others in this country. America was so deeply divided; those that supported the war, patriots that believed in fighting for democracy and freedom and supported the government and then those that opposed the war, the younger generation, living their daily mantra of “peace and love” and “love the one you’re with”. They did not believe in war, did not want to be in war and protested, allowing their voices to be heard, much to the chagrin of the older generation who fought for their country and believed that everyone was responsible to support and defend; to be patriotic. There was draft dodging, burning of the American flag and so much more, that added insult to injury.

From the war front, there were atrocities and horrific stories of the Viet Cong. Agent Orange, a chemical defoliant, was used to reduce dense forest and destroy food sources for the enemy but it also caused severe illness to our troops. The statistics of casualties, defeats and wins were sanitized for the American public, until the lies could no longer be contained and over 10,000 troops died from non-combative causes alone. Those that returned, could not face the atrocities that they had seen and endured, their bodies mutilated, facing an epidemic of drug addiction, lack of support from their own country, and then there were those that didn’t return or were taken prisoner.

Our Prisoners of War, or P.O.Ws, were captured and severely tortured with inhumane methods outlined in and against the Geneva Convention, which North Korea had signed but never upheld. Many died of malnutrition or disease, forced to carry out slave labor on starvation diets. Over 80% were air crew personnel of the Air Force, Navy and Marine Corp. In order to increase awareness of the plight of Americans being held prisoner, missing or unaccounted for, an organization began to offer POW MIA bracelets, which you could request, with the commitment that you would wear the bracelet you received until the person whose name was inscribed on it, either returned or was accounted for.

Captain Harold D. Monlux, United States Air Force. Married with two children. Taken prisoner on November 11, 1966. He was a prisoner of war in Hanoi, North Vietnam for six years and four months. I received and wore my bracelet for Captain Monlux for four of the six years plus that he was held; I never removed it until I received his letter sometime in the spring of 1972, after his return home. I was so thankful and relieved that he had come home but actually surprised that he elected to remain in the Air Force, where he continued until retiring after twenty years. He passed away in 2005 at the age of 63.

On this memorial day, I remember and am so deeply grateful for Captain Monlux and the many men and women responsible for defending the rights that we all have, especially in these United States of America. Whether I agree with war or not, everyday there are people all over this world, that have taken an oath, put on their uniform and gear, and show up to uphold the freedoms that we seem to be so in disarray about these days. And as history would tell us, this too shall pass.

For those who are interested in having more of an insight of this war and its aftermath, I highly recommend the film, “Born on the Fourth of July”, by Oliver Stone, starring Tom Cruise.