Personal Narrative: My First Vietnam War

I don’t want to die. I’ve been sitting here for eight hours in total silence in the humid jungle, sweating, itching, and waiting. I know the enemies out there, I can feel their presence. It’s only a matter of time before someone blows their cover and all hell breaks loose. It’s already been a year and three months since I volunteered. I came here so sure of who the enemy was, but after a year of being in the war, I realize I regret my decision of joining the war. I remember the ride to basic training. It was March 18th 1969. Other men and I were riding the bus to the first camp, I was trying to not think of all the bad possibilities that could happen to me during the war. I’m just hoping that these next 3 years fly by so I can come home and see my Mom and younger brother. As were riding the bus I noticed a man that turns around, that he looks very familiar as if I have met him before I wait until we got off the bus for me to talk to him and introduce myself. A little later along the ride two men had an argument about them both messing with each other’s belongings, soon that argument turned physical and they start fighting until one man missed a punch and hit another dude and then turned into an all-out brawl on the bus. I tried to avoid the fighting so I would not get in trouble on the first day.

Everyone stopped, and he said, “Why are you guys fighting each other?” there was silence in the bus… no one said a word, he after said “This is the type of fighting that we need in the war . . . we’re not the enemies the Vietnamese are, all the people that are around you now are your brothers.” He ended off with silence afterwards then sat back down. Then the bus started to move again. At that moment what the lieutenant said made me feel inspired to fight for my