Fifty years ago, the Vietnam War raged both in Vietnam and here at home. As a military brat just beginning to sense the passions sweeping through the adult world, I didn’t know what to make of what we saw each night on the evening news.
I saw how intently my parents followed the news of the war. And I was old enough to recognize that some of the men on TV and in newspaper photos wore the same uniform as my dad, and that once in a while Mom and Dad would be shaken by news that someone they knew or had served with, someone with a family like ours, had been reported killed in action or missing in action.
A lot of things have changed since then, and I understand some of it a lot better. Some of it I don’t.