tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12317392.post111653620946764842..comments2023-10-24T03:40:11.527-05:00Comments on VETSPEAK.org: DEBUNKING A SPITTING IMAGEWindbenderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11678765699760989446noreply@blogger.comBlogger5125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12317392.post-1117230487772543372005-05-27T16:48:00.000-05:002005-05-27T16:48:00.000-05:00POSTED BY NANCY MILLER SAUNDERS VIA REBELNEDThe wa...POSTED BY NANCY MILLER SAUNDERS VIA REBELNED<BR/><BR/>The way I have come to view the "spitting image" is as a metaphor for how many of you vets felt when you came home. It is good fiction, by which I mean that fiction can often convey a truth better than straight facts can. The truth here is that as the war progressed and the country turned against it, you guys became the physical embodiment of it. Accordingly, plus the fact that you tended to be sent home alone rather than with your unit, vets came home to colder and colder receptions. No parades or crowds of people welcoming you back, instead you were welcomed to accusations that you were "baby burners" and losers who couldn't win "your" war. Instead of the jobs you'd been promised would be held for you, you found yourselves in unemployment lines. And so on. A simple way to convey all of that was to say you were spit on. And though perhaps not literally, you were spit on by the nation.Windbenderhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11678765699760989446noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12317392.post-1117230079435416782005-05-27T16:41:00.000-05:002005-05-27T16:41:00.000-05:00MISCELLANEOUS POSTS MADE ON THIS TOPIC ON OTHER WE...MISCELLANEOUS POSTS MADE ON THIS TOPIC ON OTHER WEBSITES...SUBMITTED BY PEACEVET<BR/><BR/>"The way I have come to view the "spitting image" is as a metaphor for how many of you vets felt when you came home."<BR/><BR/>"Fiction can often convey a truth better than straight facts can. And<BR/>though perhaps not literally, you were spit on by the nation."<BR/><BR/>"I have noticed the vets who claim to have been spit upon seem usually<BR/>have a right wing, stabbed in the back, political outlook."<BR/><BR/>"I was barely aware of the war before I went to Vietnam, much less aware of any anti-war protests. I turned against the war while in country, so when I went looking for anti-war folks on my return - it was with a different mindset than some others..."<BR/><BR/>"I'm not sure exactly the time period served, but it was the early 70's. He was with the 101st, and they were the last Army unit to leave Vietnam. All I remember is catching commercial flights to Fort Lewis for processing to Vietnam.. At the airports and bus stations, people would stare and stay away.. We had to travel in our military uniforms.. Which upon arrival were quickly exchanged for civilian wear.. But people could still spot ya with that haircut and stay away.. We left Fort Lewis (didn't go with some unit or company or whatever, we<BR/>went alone and came home that way) on commercial planes, at military<BR/>installations.. Oriental or Tiger Airlines or something like that.. A<BR/>couple of hundred dudes dressed in jungle gear.. My flight slid off the runway in Anchorage in a snow storm. We were bussed back to the<BR/>terminal because the plane went off the runway.. We all thought we were going die in jungle gear in ice cold weather... It would've figured. At the terminal. We were treated like terminal patients with<BR/>contagious diseases... Nobody came near us.. Or made eye contact except a few other vets... Then instead of landing at Camron Bay, it was under rocket and motar attacks at the time, they diverted the flight to Da Nang.. I came home via Medivac from China Beach to Saigon to 'The World'... I don't remember the flight much except the time we hit an<BR/>air pocket over the Philippines on the way to Guam or some place and<BR/>dropped 300 feet.. I remember seeing palm trees from my gurney in<BR/>Hawaii and that's about it until I got to Fort Riley Kansas. I was<BR/>drafted out of Kansas and at the time, the military would send us guys home to the closest base, just in case you died... About a two weeks or so after getting back and I was walking again, the military wouldn't let me leave the hospital or the base.. No paper work on me.. I escaped and called Martha, come get me, she didn't know I was home, nobody did... I left weighing 165.. I got back weighing in at 125... I got into trouble for escaping and could've cared less about it.. All I<BR/>wanted was OUT!... And I still have no paper work.. One of those nasty accidental fires destroyed most of our medical records and such in Washington... And if you didn't have your own paper work filled out properly, you were and still are out of luck... Make note of this Iraq Vets... Keep your paper work up to date... Or your out of luck, unless you have proof... Like shrapnel or bullets still left in your body like<BR/>mine was and is.. Since the military didn't have any paper work on me, they stuck me in something called S-5.. Security clearance was needed and I didn't have one.. I was trouble... :) I spent some time in LBJ,<BR/>or Long Bin Jail for breaking a spook of a Majors jaw, but that's<BR/>another story.. They just needed someone in there who could make maps for the new boundaries of all the bombing ranges in North America...The Army was testing new artillery rounds, that they now use, 35 years later and needed to expand the bombing ranges.. Or in other words, they<BR/>were getting ready for today 35 years ago... I had maps from all over<BR/>the place.. I took em home along with nomenclatures books on military<BR/>equipment, showed em to all my friends.. What struck me as odd and Col.<BR/>McPhearson, the only officer I had to answer too at the time, was the<BR/>fact that most bombing ranges in North America were located on ancient<BR/>Indian lands, Sacred spots... Back then.. Bombs were being dropped on<BR/>the ranges 24/7... Keeping the spirits at bay I'd say..... Ghost<BR/>Dancing... I was never spit upon, just avoided and I liked it like<BR/>that.. Leave me alone..,GR, 101st Airborne Peace, is not a four<BR/>letter word.Windbenderhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11678765699760989446noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12317392.post-1117227922470921902005-05-27T16:05:00.000-05:002005-05-27T16:05:00.000-05:00POSTED BY DWAYNE KNOX VIA REBELNEDThis article rai...POSTED BY DWAYNE KNOX VIA REBELNED<BR/><BR/>This article raises some good questions. As it points out - and as I remember - we were processed thru a military installation. I did catch a commercial flight wearing my new Class A's (issued there I guess. I sure as hell didn't take them to 'nam with me). And I'm sure the time period of a vet's return would have had much to do with the way he was received. The Vietnam War was our longest war, the public's perceptions of the war changed greatly over those 10 years, and affected the<BR/>way returning vets were received. I know at lest one 'nam vet who claims was spit upon. But I know other 'nam vets who say they were called losers and thrown out of VFW halls.Windbenderhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11678765699760989446noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12317392.post-1117226602717230602005-05-27T15:43:00.000-05:002005-05-27T15:43:00.000-05:00SUBMITTED BY BTXUSA VIA REBELNED from Oleostrut Co...SUBMITTED BY BTXUSA VIA REBELNED from Oleostrut Coffeehouse<BR/><BR/>http://www.veteransforpeace.org/Dr_Redwood_interviews_CLine_091704.htm<BR/><BR/>Cline: "The other thing is, that I don't care what anyone says about them [Vietnam era antiwar protestors] spitting on us, that's all b.s. I was active in the peace movement at that time and I never witnessed any such thing, or anything vaguely approaching it. Nor would it ever have occurred to me, or any of the activists I knew, to even think of doing such a thing. We wanted to reach out to the military and in many cases we did just that. We understood you were our brothers. It's all an urban myth, a postwar revisionist urban myth. There was animosity between veterans who were<BR/>pro-war and protestors, no question about it. Those<BR/>were turbulent times. But the idea that people were spitting on us is nonsense, man."Windbenderhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11678765699760989446noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12317392.post-1116721938618630662005-05-21T19:32:00.000-05:002005-05-21T19:32:00.000-05:00I'm of the mind that the story of all of the spitt...I'm of the mind that the story of all of the spitting and other Very Unwelcome Homes were what we now call an "urban Legend", circulated by the government to create disunity between the returning veterans, the students and other young people showing discontent with the war. I believe that it was intended to build resentment and mistrust amongst what were potential allies during the increasing anti-war student activity in the early years. The ol' FBI COINTEL tactics; designed to drive wedges amongst any factions, or even couples, who might offer any support or commitment to the ant-war movement. I'm not a bit surprised that Lembcke couldn't find a single documented incident of this type of behavior. I can't prove my theory, but then; Jerry has exaustively researched, and found that niether can the right (or anybody else) prove or document that any such thing ever happened...how 'bout the rest of you out there; what do you remember?<BR/><BR/>On the other hand, there were rumors circulating while I served in Vietnam , especially at the close of my second tour in 1968; that students, Hippies, commies, and other activists were confronting G.I.s at airports and calling them "Baby Killers" and other derogatory names, and getting in their faces as they tried to wend their way through various airports to once again be with their families and loved ones after the nightmare of Vietnam. At the time,this was reputed to be a widespread practice. Guys who were "short" were actually talking openly about smuggling back grenades to roll into the crowds of screaming, threatening, hippies and commies who, it was said, would be waiting for them when they landed back in The World and tried to rejoin their families.<BR/><BR/>I came home twice. First tour ended in 1966, and I was flown in non-stop from the Nam on Continental Airlines to El Toro, MCAS,in Southern California. We landed in the middle of the night, and there was no-one around with the exception of Marine Corps personnel, customs agents checking luggage, and a few families lucky enough to somehow know when we were going to land. I had to take a taxi to San Clemente before I saw the face of anyone who cared that I, particulaly, had returned to the world.<BR/><BR/>Was there a valid reason for sneaking us back in like that, or was it designed to reinforce the paranoia and make it appear as if they were protecting us from the radical anti-war protestors? <BR/><BR/>My second Homecoming was quite different, but equally as bizarre. When the 27th Marine Regiment which I had come from Kanohe Bay, Hawaii, was withdrawn(not really, just the Colors and second tour guys and short-timers...everyone else who came with the 27th Marine Regiment were transferred out to other units, remaining in-country)from Nam in Sept,1968, we returned as a unit. Upon our return, we were brought in to the San Diego Marine Corps Recruit Depot (adjacent to the San Diego airport..just taxied right on in). We were given Dress Greens, and M-16s, and had to march as a unit, under Colors, in a Welcome Home Parade right down Broadway Blvd., in Downtown San Diego. It was beyond weird; there was virtually no-one on the sidewalks as we marched...America had turned their backs on us and didn't acknowledge us. As Nancy Miller Saunders has written; the Spitting became a metaphor for that perpetual act of disavowel. After the "Parade", we returned to MCRD, turned in our M-16s, and were "released" to our waiting families. They had been on the airfield tarmac and Recruit Depot Drill Field for the entire duration of this farcical excercise designed to prove that the troops were indeed Coming Home, at last...this was 1968...what a sad, sad and sorry joke; on us, and the American people.Windbenderhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11678765699760989446noreply@blogger.com