They Would Not Let Me Bury Your Dead....and they never will

A Helicopter is outside loaded and looking for me - but I must finish this letter first; for its taken 23 years just to begin to write. I should have been scared today when I heard the blades beat the air, but I wasn't, I just knew it was friendly. The body bags I loaded seem to assure me that everything would be all right this time, and I should take them home. They just want to finally rest... and I want to cry, but cannot... I am just too angry!

Yes, I will escort all of you home and be your Honor Guard forever, if only when I am done, you let me be the boy that I was, and not the soldier I became. I will get my dress uniform ready; white combat belt, white leather band on my dress cap, white boot laces mirrored in the shine of my polished boots, and white cotton gloves over hands that are strong but shaking. Yes, I will carry you, to the place your family has chosen for you to rest. You will never have to be lonely again, for they will come back to pray... and talk... and cry... and always ask why.

We salute you with the rifle you defended with, even the one we carried over Agony and Misery Hill together, the one that would became a friend for survival. I polished it up good, and you would be very proud.... Its time now, but you knew that. How could you not hear the click of four trigger safeties snapping off at the same time?..... it makes enough noise to shatter your sleep, and I am really sorry! This will be the only time I will not reflex to take cover, but it is the only time I feel again.... Just to feel empty and numb is even more than I have felt in a long, long time. I want to be proud of all of us, but I am confused. ......... Ready!.......... Aim!........ Fire!................. my chest hurts..... and my heart aches.
Your family is crying now, and they don't even know half of the truth. No one knew that there was more than one war raging at the same time, and we are not imagining the same one now. I don't know if I could ever tell them how it really was, because then they would have to feel the same anger I live with everyday and that wouldn't be fair.
So, what do we tell them? That over fifty eight thousand boys died trying to stop someone else's winless war? Or that our people honor all American soldiers who give their lives in the name of freedom? No reason is good enough to outweigh a families grief and loss.

I cannot carry this load anymore - for I am as much terrified of the dark as I am to visit the Wall. You cannot honor the dead without honoring the living casualties, and the hell, and anguish, their families must bear everyday. The protesters, pacifists and draft dodgers are silenced now. They have a war of their own they must live with, and I'm sad for them too.
I will never be able to bury you guys as long as your memories keep visiting my sleep - and I will never forget. For as long as you stay unburied, someone has to deal with you. Maybe this country will wake up, so you can sleep. I am proud of us for living out the roll of life that was dealt to us - to laugh, and cry in the shadow of death, and moral judgement.... but there were no survivors.
I will never be able to forget, God knows I have tried, but I do want one thing back that was taken away - I want to Laugh Again - Remember That!!

Short Time Friend,
Sergeant Carl P. Priemer U.S. Army, Phu Bai, Viet Nam, 1969-1970

from "letters" by Carl P. Priemer (written 2 April 1970)