Out of the last three years of my military service, two and a half were spent on Guam (Arclight TDY), Ubon, and three bases in Viet Nam.  I had witnessed the very beginnings of the Vietnamization program when I first arrived at TSN.  Patrolling through the sectors where the Vietnamese were taking over the perimeter defense, it was plain to see, that our Government was "throwing in the towel".  Most of these posts wouldn't even respond ,snoozing in the cool of the night, when our track vehicle drove by.  Not that it was an excuse, but most of the Vietnamese conscripts were paid so poorly that the story was that many had day time jobs to make ends meet.  I often wondered which of these guys were perhaps part time Viet Cong. Driving by the morgue and seeing the new arrival of body bags was also part of our nightly patrol.

I volunteered to go up to Tuy Hoa, and then was transferred to Phan Rang, after the Army took over, for my last six months.  The latter two bases hadn't begun "Vietnamization " but plans were being made to implement it at Phan Rang as I was leaving in May of '71.  I was often haunted by the idea of who would be the last US soldier to pay the ultimate price for the war our government was deciding not to win.  This notion alienated me to "the world" and I lost belief in many of the institutions that just a few years earlier I volunteered to serve.

I had been discharged at Fort.Lewis (why not McChord?) and flew back home to Denver, met with the family but wanted to share my excitement of this new freedom with someone who could relate.  A SAFESIDE team member that I drove "track" for at Tuy Hoa was stationed at Lowry and on my second day back I went out to his apartment and drank beer most of the night.  My sister lived some 40 blocks west of him on West Colfax and I turned down the offer for a ride because I wanted to take a long reflective stroll taking in this new reality.

It was a beautiful fresh sunny day in early June and I had a day or two of stubble growing, had my shirt off and maybe my shoes.  There was a vendor selling cantaloupe that upon seeing, I immediately had a craving for and I bought a small bag.  I was feeling on top of the world when a police patrol car stopped abruptly next to me and the two officers jumped out and asked what I had in the bag and needed to see some ID.  With my serenity dashed, I said," Look, I just got back from Nam and I don't need being f---ked with".  As the officers were waiting for a background check on me, one started asking where I was at in Nam, and I said "Don't trouble yourself with small talk fella.  You are here hoping to find something on me so you can throw my ass in jail".  After the check came back showing that I wasn't the mad bomber with my bag of cantaloupe, one of the officers apologized but the damage was done and my mistrust with the system deepened.

I felt like the Stranger in a Strange Land for many years.  I was active in Viet Nam protests but couldn't stand most of those protesting the war-our reasons and experiences were so different.  Their protests I felt were in vogue, fashionable, hip, and mine an obligation.

My major in College changed every semester and I just couldn't find a "fit".   Eventually, thanks to a girlfriend, I signed up for the Peace Corps and went to the Philippines.  The intent was to help and I like to think that I did, but the simplicity and the graciousness of these "poor farmers" helped heal my heart which allowed me to get on with my life.  They were some of the richest of the poorest people I've ever met.