13 August 2004
Steven T. Banko III
It's time to wipe the spit off my face again
In February of 1969, I was deemed fit to travel and was allowed to go home on convalescent leave from Ft. Devans Army Hospital. While I might have been "fit" physically, my mind was a muddled stew of rage and guilt and relief. On Dec. 3, 1968, I had been part of a 107-man rifle company that air assaulted into a sea of elephant grass surrounded by jungle near the banks of the Song Be (Be River). At 10:30 a,m.. the shooting started. At 3:30 p.m., it stopped and my rifle company had ceased to exist. Almost 75% of the company was killed or wounded. We were ambushed by an estimated 400 soldiers of the 368th Viet Cong battalion. When helicopter gunships came to assist, their rockets turned the elephant grass into an inferno that consumed munitions, water, and many of our wounded. I left the field with two bullets in my leg where my knee cap had been, with dozens of shrapnel wounds from their mortars and rocket propelled grenades and our burning ammunition, and with serious burns to both hands. Therapy for my leg was almost as painful as the bullets that ravaged it. But I had made it. I had survived. I had lived when so many others had died and now I was left to deal with the physical scars of my wounds and the emotional devastation of my guilt. I might have thought that I was prepared for anything that might happen to me in the future. I was wrong.As I walked through the concourse at the Greyhound Terminal in Boston, heading for Logan Airport, I was only vaguely aware of the movement I caught off to my right. I became acutely aware when I felt the splash of spittle on my cheek. A teenaged girl in an army field jacket adorned with flowers had just spit in my face and her young faced was contorted with her contempt as she snarled "The VC should have finished you off, you bastard." I didn't let on at the time, but that young girl wounded me more painfully than any bullet or bomb could have. If not for her and for my country, what was my pain and suffering and anguish for? I was violated and abandoned by the people I thought I was serving. And it's happening again.
I hoped that might be the end of the betrayal but it continued when I enrolled in college and was kicked out of a class for being a veteran. It was manifest in the hostility of my generation and the apathy of "the Greatest Generation." We were weaned on the World War II heroics of John Wayne only to choke on a war in Vietnam we were told had no heroes. We feasted on the noble rhetoric of John F. Kennedy only to gag on the blathering nonsense of Jane Fonda.. We offered our blind allegiance to our nation in the tradition of our fathers only to find ourselves outcasts on the fringe of the American Dream we mortgaged with our blood. We were told that courage, duty, and honor were the benchmarks of citizenship. When did that change? When did vested self-interest become the order of the day?
If there has been a positive legacy of the Vietnam experience, one might have thought it would be found in the lessons we taught America in how not to treat returning warriors. The presidential campaign of 2004 has taught us, though, that such a legacy is a dream unfulfilled.
I can feel all the indignity of that young girl's spittle again in the perfidious rhetoric emanating not just from political hacks trying to make combat heroism a liability in a time of war, but from veterans themselves, spitting in the faces of such heroism. Can there be any greater hypocrisy than that of one who went to the greatest lengths to avoid wartime service in his own generation now calling into question the honorable service of someone who accepted the responsibility of military service willingly? Are there no limits to the "blame the victim" mentality that pervades our national psyche? Is there nothing beyond the reach of the partisan venom being spewed across the country these days? How can this country sit by pathetically and let Dick Cheney, the prince of draft deferments, sound off on John Kerry? Maybe now that Sen. Tom Harkin has demonstrated the backbone to question the chickenhawks others will follow suit, but it's not likely. courage is not found in abundance at any level of government these days.
When I came home from Vietnam, battered in body and tattered in spirit, I didn't agree with the protests of the Vietnam Veterans Against the War and John Kerry as its founder. My own service and my own decorations deluded me into believing the only justification for my participation in the war was the righteousness of the war itself. I could not embrace the notion that my service had been wasted on a misguided mission. But I never questioned the right of warriors to speak out against the war. I never doubted the sincerity of those who had bled to call for an end to the bloodshed. I never sought to impugn the integrity of those who disagreed with me. What gives the chickenhawks the right to do it now?
First, it was Bob Kerrey, a Medal of Honor recipient, who was singled out, accused of war atrocities. Then it was former POW John McCain whose service was denigrated in 2000. Next, it was Max Cleland’s turn. Being a triple amputee and bonafide hero was still not enough to keep his patriotism from being trashed by a chickenhawk. Now, it’s John Kerry. What message does this send to our current soldiers, sailors, airmen, Marines and Coast Guardsmen? When do we, as a people, say “Enough!”?
It doesn't seem too long ago that veterans around the country were rising up in anger at the notion of a president who avoided military service in Vietnam. Today, the same veterans are standing shoulder to shoulder with a flock of chickenhawks who did the same thing.
It's time to wipe the spit off my face again.
For his service in Vietnam, Steven T. Banko III was awarded two Silver Stars, four Bronze Stars, the Air Medal and four Purple Hearts. He has long been active in veteran's affairs, both in Buffalo and nationally.
Copyright 2004 by Buffalo Report, Inc.