Jungle Combat by Gemma M. Jablonski

Those of us who fought in the Vietnam jungles — who bled, suffered and watched our friends die — share an experience that is difficult to decipher, and whose implications are still hotly debated. It was, I am convinced, the definitive experience that has shaped the mindset of my generation. Many of us have struggled for a long time to come to terms with the legacy of Vietnam, and some of us have dealt with it better than others. In my case, it took a long time.

Committing this story to paper has helped me come to terms with the war, and to put it in focus. It has become commonplace to describe the conflict there as a defeat, but those of us who took part in it have difficulty with that. We were never bested on the battlefield. Every time the enemy stood up to challenge us, we took the worst he had to offer and returned it with interest.

It is generally held that the celebrated Tet Offensive was a great communist victory that proved to be the turning point in the war. The reality on the field was that Tet was a debacle for the Viet Cong, after which they were never again able to maintain a viable presence in the field. One more such victory, and the North Vietnamese would have likewise been reduced to impotence.

Yet we were the ones who withdrew, not because we were defeated on the battlefield, but because of a failure of will among our political leadership. For a variety of reasons, the Vietnam conflict provoked a divisive cataclysm that ripped our society apart, and shook our nation to its very foundation.

For me, the final evacuation was terrible humiliation. I thought of the brave men who had given their lives in the cause. Turning our backs and running away seemed to dishonor their sacrifice. It ran contrary to everything I had ever held fast and believed in, a betrayal of my values and heritage.

It was a long time between the evacuation of Saigon and the invasion of Iraq. In the autumn of 1990, as the events in the Persian Gulf unfolded, it seemed increasingly obvious we would become involved militarily. I had no appetite for war, but the issues seemed boldly framed in stark relief. It was as just and clear a cause as ever a nation was called upon to shoulder.

Within that context, I viewed Operation Desert Shield — later Desert Storm — as a grim but badly needed opportunity to confront the scars Vietnam had left on our national psyche. If we were ever going to deal with it, and put that earlier trauma behind us, this was the time.

At that juncture, I was no longer a strapping young Marine pilot, but a mature Reserve Marine Colonel. Though I was a member of the State legislature of Maryland, and though the legislature was then in session, I felt I had to go. So I volunteered for active duty, and was called up.

Of course, it is fitting that men like myself, who are trained and experienced in war, should accept that duty when it arises. Yet my motivation was deeper than that. It seemed to me a last opportunity to relive a transitional period in my life, a time when lines were clearly drawn and every moment seethed with intensity. Other veterans have testified that amid the horrors and deprivation of war, they somehow felt more alive than before or after. In war it is a commonplace that men removed from the most dreadful combat hurry back from their hospital beds or home leave to rejoin their comrades as quickly as they can, drawn like moths to a flame.

My particular flame had to content itself with routine support duties Stateside. The war was over before I could wrangle a combat assignment.

Still, I have gained sufficient insight into life to understand that the real battles are fought, not in trenches or around landing pads, but in legislatures and public debates. Time may have withered my ability to make lightning decisions under heavy enemy fire, but it has at the same time enhanced my capacity to recognize grand folly promoted in the guise of social progress.

The great danger facing our country today is not Asian guerillas, or nuclear missiles, but interior rot caused by civic indifference and political malpractice. As Pogo said, “We have met the enemy and he is us.” Our most formidable challenge, and one that comes soon or late to every great nation, is to reaffirm those values of sacrifice, duty, hard work and responsibility that our greatness was born of. - Col. John "Ace" Astle USMC, (Ret.)