On Letters Home
I found them in an old blue binder, one of those flimsy ones with a cheap vinyl cover. All the letters I sent to my family while I was in the service from 1966 through 1969. I had no idea my mother had kept them. As I re-read them, I was surprised by a number of things: back then I had very poor penmanship although it was much more legible than it is now; I initially wrote in cursive, something that one sees very little of these days; I was naive at the beginning of my Vietnam tour, cynical and somewhat bitter at the end; except for several letters sent berating the anti-war protesters back home after we Khe Sanh defenders got infamous on the covers of Time and Life and Newsweek, for the most part, I shined my parents on about what was going on in the places I was located in Vietnam.
Here is an excerpt from a letter I wrote on March 28, 1967, the day I got to Danang, Vietnam:
“Instead of getting 3-4 weeks of jungle training in Okinawa, we got 60 hours of shots, blood donating, plus work parties. We got here at 3:30 this morning via Continental Airlines. We’ve just been sitting around in the filth and heat and humidity–getting sticky and dirty…”
Or this from November 17, 1967:
“I got a new pair of jungle boots today–my other pair, 5-1/2 months old, were literally falling apart at the seams.”
On January 8, 1968 I wrote:
“By the time you receive this letter I should have only about 90 days left in country.”
On February 26, 1968:
“A newsman from NBC got my picture the other day. Look for my flick on TV.”
On March 10, 1968, I wrote a diatribe, what I described at the time as “podium pounding” that included deleterious comments about the North Vietnamese and about the war protesters at home. Some of the more plain vanilla narrative from that letter follows:
“…we aren’t sitting around waiting to die, we are sitting around waiting for the time we can go home because we are alive and are going to live because it takes more than 16,000 (the real number of NVA was closer to 40,000)…idiots to beat 5000 (the real number of US personnel–USMC, Navy, Army, Air Force and South Vietnamese allies was closer to 6000) Marines face to face…”
As I read these letters I reflected on how long it took for letters to get delivered from my family and friends to me while I was at Khe Sanh, and vice versa, how long it took for mine to get home. It usually took weeks for correspondence to get from back-in-the-real-world (as we called it) to me in the bush. Oftentimes letters and packages got lost. Mail was our lifeline from the “real world.” It helped keep our morale up, helped stiffen our spines.

© Ken Rodgers 2014
Now, troops overseas can communicate almost instantly with the folks back home. Besides the old method—the mail—one can telephone, email, Skype, video teleconference and instant message. Same results, I think, but the immediacy of it all, I suspect, makes those direct contacts pretty common should a warrior choose it to be so.
Back in my day, you could go to Danang and wait in line in the middle of the night to call home. I only knew of one or two Marines who took advantage of the service. Most of the time I was mired in the bush and Danang was a long ways off, and when in Danang I was going somewhere, to a school or on R&R or to raise some hell at China Beach.
Think about how it must have been for Caesar’s legionnaires back in 53 BC. Correspondence must have taken months, if it happened at all, and once a warrior tromped off to Gaul, he may never be heard from again.
For most of us, family ties are strong and the memories of home and thoughts of returning there are a powerful bond that help Marines keep their spirits up and allows them to function whether it be on watch, on a work party or in battle.
While we fought in Vietnam, our loved ones needed our letters. We needed theirs.
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Your story reminds of an incident with our Plt Cmdr Lt Dillon. It was early Feb and he called me into his hooch. He had rec’d a letter from my mother simply marked 2nd Plt Cmdr, B Co 1/26. It was full of stamps and blank sheets of paper with a note that said. “Please tell my son to write once in awhile.” Remember postage3 was FREE in the Nam. It would be over 40 years, well after her passing, that I got a phone call from a retired Engineer who lived in Texas. He was a small boy in 1968 and friends with my brother. He told me how he would be sitting in front of the TV watching the news with my brother and my mother was just on the edge of her chair every night. It wasn’t until then that I fully understood the agony of those family members who sit and wait for anything, especially a letter from their child.
I really like this anecdote, especially the part about finally understanding what it was like for our parents and family and friends here in the States. Sometimes I went over a month without writing letters and I suspect my parents were distraught. (But they never would have said so.)
Ken Rodgers
I am inspired by your findings. Suprisingly enough my grandmother game me all the letters sent home from Vietnam from my father. They are all in order and still in mailing envelopes identical to yours. My name is Robert graham. You have my email and thanks for your service.
Thanks for the note. There is probably a treasure trove of memories and insights in those letters.