Reflective Essay: Death Of A Vietnamese Soldier

It was a cold day with light flurries, but my pipe and the weather seemed to have a calming effect on me. I couldn’t help thinking about the Roman soldiers. Being a soldier in a foreign land prompted evil behavior, but that was war. I was glad to be away from Nam and all the trapping of war: the killing, the bullying of women and children. I was thinking about my mistreatment of the Vietnamese women when I realized that I had reached the sidewalk in front of our house. My aunt and uncle were pulling up to the curb. I emptied the bowl of my pipe by knocking it against the gate post. Then, I opened the car door. My aunt began to cry. “I’ve had so many bad dreams about you. I was worried you wouldn’t return,” she said. “I’m alive and well,” I said, “Merry Christmas.” As we went inside the house, Uncle Galway and I carried the …show more content…
I can smell it on you,” she said, and with the palm of her hand, she signaled me not to argue but to listen. “If you medicate yourself without guidance, you will end up like your father.” She went onto to tell me that my father drinking made the tone on his sax harsh. His tone prevented him from playing for more than a local band. The lack of musical success angered him, and he took his wrath out on my mother and me. She told me that war causes men to beat their wives and children because it sanctifies killing, and killing in war is just murder by another name. The question is what you do when the war brings the hate out in you. You can’t burry it when you come back, so you learn to hate your countrymen because they are black or Jewish or a communist. Politicians and preachers are good at directing your hate toward your neighbors. “I don’t hate anyone,” I said. “Not now, but wait until your nightmares influence your feelings,” she told me. “How did you know about them?” I blurted. “I know many things,” she said, “We’ll talk later after the two drinkers fall asleep, but now its time for coffee and