Tom Glenn's Blog, page 116

The Sad Month of April (4)

Continuing my series of posts about why April is a sad month for me as I remember the fall of Vietnam forty-five years ago:

On 21 April 1975, as I strove to get my forty-three subordinates and their wives and children safely out of Saigon before the North Vietnamese attacked the city, the North Vietnamese seized the last bastion standing between them and Saigon. The story, as told by Wikipedia, is brief and bitter:

“The Battle of Xuân Lộc (: Trận Xuân Lộc) was the last major battle of the Vietnam War. From the beginning of 1975, People’s Army of Vietnam (PAVN) [that is, the North Vietnamese] forces swept through the northern provinces of South Vietnam virtually unopposed. In the Central Highlands, South Vietnam’s II Corps was completely destroyed, whilst attempting to evacuate to the Mekong Delta region. In the cities of Huế and Đà Nẵng, ARVN [that is, Army of the Republic of Vietnam, South Vietnam] units simply dissolved without putting up resistance. The devastating defeats suffered by the Army of the Republic of Vietnam (ARVN) prompted South Vietnam’s National Assembly to question President Nguyễn Văn Thiệu‘s handling of the war, thereby placing him under tremendous pressure to resign.

“The ARVN committed almost all their remaining mobile forces, especially the 18th Division, under Brigadier general Lê Minh Đảo, to the defence of the strategic crossroads town of Xuân Lộc, hoping to stall the PAVN advance. The battle was fought between 9 and 21 April 1975, and ended when the town of Xuân Lộc was captured by the PAVN 4th Army Corps led by Major general Hoàng Cầm. This was the ARVN III Corps‘ last defensive line east of South Vietnam’s capital, Saigon. The line connected the city of Bình Dương,  Biên Hòa Air Base, Vũng Tàu, Long An and the lynchpin centered on the strategic town of Xuân Lộc, where the South Vietnamese Joint General Staff committed the nation’s final reserve forces in Saigon’s defense. In the last-ditch effort to save South Vietnam, Thiệu ordered the 18th Infantry Division to hold Xuân Lộc at all costs. The PAVN 4th Army Corps, on the other hand, was ordered to capture Xuân Lộc in order to open the gateway to Saigon. During the initial stages of the battle, the 18th Division managed to beat off early attempts by the PAVN to capture the town, forcing PAVN commanders to change their battle plan. However, on 19 April 1975, Đảo’s forces were ordered to withdraw after Xuân Lộc was almost completely isolated, with all remaining units badly mauled. This defeat also marked the end of Thiệu’s political career, as he resigned on 21 April 1975.

“Once Xuân Lộc fell on 21 April 1975, the PAVN battled with the last remaining elements of III Corps Armored Task Force, remnants of the 18th Infantry Division and depleted Marine, Airborne and  Battalions in a fighting retreat that lasted nine days, until they reached Saigon and PAVN armored columns crashed throughout the gates of South Vietnam’s Presidential Palace on 30 April 1975, effectively ending the war.”

During that last nine days, I succeeded in evacuating all my subordinates and their families. I escaped under fire on the night of 29 April 1975. Those terrible days are burned into my memory.

Publishing a Novel During the Lockdown

My newest novel, Secretocracy, was officially published by Adelaide Books on 30 March 2020. Under ordinary circumstances, by now I’d be in the middle of readings, presentations, and book signings—so busy I’d barely have time to sleep. But because of the covid-19 pandemic, nothing is happening. Bookstores are closed. So are venues at which I’d normally be asked to speak. Now, more than three weeks after the book’s publication, I have yet to do a reading and haven’t autographed a single copy.

Nor have I received copies of the book. I understand they’ve been shipped, but they haven’t arrived. Friends have asked to buy autographed copies. I ask them to wait.

Even online booksellers, other than Amazon, are not yet offering Secretocracy for sale. I ordered a copy from Amazon as soon as the book appeared on the site, but was informed that shipment has been delayed. You can order Secretocracy from Amazon at https://www.amazon.com/Secretocracy-novel-Tom-Glenn/dp/1951896963/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=tom+glenn+secretocracy&qid=1586034840&s=books&sr=1-1 but be prepared for delays.

Meanwhile, as I posted several days ago, you can read about the book in the announcement of its publication at https://express-press-release.net/news/2020/04/14/643885?fbclid=IwAR17vd4FoB3HzhCP6t__l-7yN5jWHWcj23ZzDJ1Bxa9u_KJl1004K1ZRjJE

Looks like I’ll have to wait out the lockdown before I can promote Secretocracy.

An Important Distinction

Following my post on the “Vietnam Veteran” bumper sticker yesterday, I was reminded of my bitterness against those who denigrated the troops who risked their lives in defense of our country in Vietnam. I’m still angry about those who spat on us and called us butchers and baby killers. I’m more persuaded than ever that my anger is justified.

But my antagonism doesn’t extend to those who opposed our involvement in Vietnam. I agreed with those who maintained that we never should have gotten into the war in the first place, defending the French colonialists against the Vietnamese who wanted freedom and independence for their country. And I respected the arguments of those who maintained that we should not have been sacrificing our young men by the thousands to prop up a South Vietnamese government not chosen by the people. As I watched more and more deaths, I was inclined to agree.

Where the general will in the U.S. and I parted company was at the end of the war. Americans were so anxious to put Vietnam behind them that they ended our participation militarily, then went on to withdraw aid, delivering a death sentence to South Vietnam. I was among the few Americans still in Saigon when the North Vietnamese captured the city. Because of American cowardice, we abandoned many thousands of South Vietnamese. The North Vietnamese killed and imprisoned them. I still mourn the many I knew.

As I have written here before, we Americans show a dangerous inability to learn from our mistakes. We have deserted our faithful allies in Afghanistan, Iraq, and Syria, leaving them to the mercies of our enemies. What does it take for Americans to learn that it is dishonorable to forsake those who have fought by our side?

The Bumper Sticker

Sitting among the clutter on the low wall that separates my kitchen from my living room is a bumper sticker. It’s been there for years. It’s six inches long and four inches wide, oval shaped, blue in background with yellow writing. “Vietnam Veteran” is printed in inch-high letters in the middle.

I don’t remember where it came from or who gave it to me, but I’ve always known that I would never put it on my car. It would mark me as a man to be reviled.

When I came back to the states with the troops during my any trips to Vietnam between 1962 and 1975, we’d be greeted my mobs who’d spit on us and call us butchers and baby killers. After the war’s end, when I escaped under fire as Saigon fell, Americans everywhere made it clear to me that I had participated in a dishonorable war. For literally decades, I never spoke of Vietnam. It was a shameful war, and I was a disgrace to my country.

Then, five or six years ago, I was invited to an event the likes of which I had never heard of: a welcome home celebration for Vietnam veterans. I was suspicious but finally decided to attend. The place was filled with young people who hadn’t even been born when Vietnam fell. They approached me, smiling, hugged me, and said the words I had so yearned to hear for decades: “Thank you for your service. And welcome home.”

I cried.

Now the world has changed. The time has come to take pride in my service to my country. People regularly thank me for my time in Vietnam. I’ve even started wearing a small pin that proclaims me as Vietnam veteran. I write regularly about my years in Vietnam in this blog. And today, I will put that sticker on the bumper of my car.

At last I can be proud, not shamed, by my service to my country.

Weeping

At this point in my life, I’m surprised by how often tears come into my eyes. As I grieve over the loss of my friend, Su Patterson (she died on 31 March), and read of the deaths of older, more vulnerable people (like me), several times a day I weep.

Yesterday I read of Captain Douglas L. Hickok, 57, a National Guard troop who died in a Pennsylvania hospital on March 28. He contracted covid-19 while helping those infected. You can read his story at https://mail.google.com/mail/u/0/?pli=1#inbox/FMfcgxwHMsPSVCMXBJGdCjDbGtvRbtMV

I wept as I read his story.

Tears blocked my vision as I wrote about my shame for having participated in the Vietnam war. My cheeks stay wet as I remember the men who died at my side during combat. The tears flow as I recall the South Vietnamese I knew who were left behind when Vietnam fell and were killed by the North Vietnamese.

As a boy and young man, I was taught that men don’t cry; only women do. So my weeping shames me.

But it shouldn’t. I know now that strong, good, noble men weep in the face of tragedy. It is right and proper that we should.

So let the weeping come. With the pandemic and the economic collapse it has brought on, it is the time for weeping.

The Sad Month of April (3)

Continuing posts on my memories of the fall of Saigon in April 1975:

Forty-five years ago today, 17 April 1975, I was hunkered down in my office at Tan Son Nhat, on the northern edge of Saigon, doing my frantic best to evacuate all my men and their wives and children before the North Vietnamese took Saigon. I knew the final collapse was only weeks away. The guys left in my comm center brought me reports of the fall of Phnom Penh, the capital of the Khmer Republic (Cambodia), to the Khmer Rouge, the Cambodian communists allied to North Vietnam. In the days that followed, those of us still left in Saigon read the grim reports from Phnom Penh. Captured Khmer Republic officials and members of the military were taken to the Olympic Stadium where they forced to write confessions prior to their executions, some by beheading, some by firing squad.

For the first time in my life, I learned what terror tasted like.

My Life in April 2020

As I write on Easter Thursday morning, the death toll from the covid-19 pandemic is approaching 30,000. The Trump administration continues to fumble in overwhelming incompetence. It’s going to get worse before it gets better. And I’m a prime target for the pandemic: of advanced age and minus one lung lobe (due to cancer). Worst of all, I’m mourning the loss of my friend and partner, Su Patterson, who died on 31 March.

And I’m isolated. I can’t meet with friends or colleagues. I can’t socialize. I can’t even come within six feet of other human beings. At a time of intense grieving, I must manage completely on my own.

For all that, I know I’ll get through it. I’ve always been a loner. As a child of six, with an alcoholic mother and a father never home who ended up in prison, my well-being was up to me. I learned of necessity to be self-dependent. I came to distrust others who might let me down.

It worked. Better than that, during my thirteen years in an out of Vietnam, my self-reliance saved my life many times. My assignments after 1975, when Vietnam fell, were equally challenging—though I can’t talk about them because they’re still classified.

In sum, at one of the worst times of my life, when I am grieving over the loss of someone most dear to me, it is up to me and me alone. I can do it. I always have.

EPR Announces Secretocracy Publication

Express Press Release (EPR) has just issued a notice that Adelaide Books of New York published my newest novel, Secretocracy, on 30 March. You can read the announcement at https://express-press-release.net/news/2020/04/14/643885?fbclid=IwAR17vd4FoB3HzhCP6t__l-7yN5jWHWcj23ZzDJ1Bxa9u_KJl1004K1ZRjJE

Su Patterson

I mentioned here almost two weeks ago that Su Patterson died at age 91 on 31 March 2020. I said nothing further about it. My readers deserve an explanation.

For the past twenty-plus years, Su and I were friends and partners. We would spend at least one day together each week. For years, I cooked dinner for her every Friday night, always sure to have what she most enjoyed. For the last year or so, as her health declined, my time with her was more taking care of her than being her companion. Last August, she collapsed with an attack of vascular dementia. I got her to the hospital in an ambulance. She was gradually recovering when she collapsed again a few weeks ago. This time, she continued to deteriorate, became unconscious, and finally died.

To say I am grieving is an understatement. And the solitude required by the pandemic makes it worse. I know I’ll get through this. I always do. But I felt I needed to explain all this to my readers.

Trump’s Promises Not Kept

On 13 March, President Trump promised a series of steps to combat the coronavirus pandemic. At this writing, a month later, those promises remain unkept. The pandemic rages ahead with little action by the federal government to oppose it. See the NPR report at https://www.npr.org/2020/04/13/832797592/a-month-after-emergency-declaration-trumps-promises-largely-unfulfilled

Of all of Trump’s failures, this is the worst. It is literally costing lives. According to the New York Times on 13 April: “Hundreds more Americans are likely to die of the virus again today. For that, the president bears substantial blame.”