I DEROS'd from Đà Nàng Air Base in 3 July 1966. My four years of USAF
were at an end. One day I was patrolling with Blackie 129X, my K-9, in
Đà Nàng's ammo dump... and a few days later, cruising through old
high school hang outs in California. No debrief. No war. No more Vietnam. Just a dream that began and ended with a sudden startling wake up,
as if I were falling asleep on post... and being wide awake
I had the feeling that I couldn't find my uniform and I wasn't
ready. I also didn't realize it at the time that the dream was actually a small part of a more complex issue of feeling guilty that JB died and I lived, and was eventual part-solution to a haunting dream that would linger for a generation. Decades passed, and the war and dream continued.
One long weekend my three brothers asked me to
go hunting with them. Sounded like fun, so I said okay, and went out
and bought a set of cammies. Went hunting. It was fun.
Later, when I was home, I cleaned out my garage and found my old Air Force blue duffel bag, still latched-up tight. I opened it and pulled out all the old uniforms, a pair of VC sandals made from old tires, belt buckles, old jump-boots leather-cracked beyond hope. At the bottom of the duffel bag was my Vietnam helmet and the last uniform I wore at Đà Nàng Air Base.
I hung that uniform in the closet---and rarely had the dream again.
The helmet is right beside my uniform, which is still hanging in the closet today.
