Visions of War (Vietnam)

The draft card came in the mail. His unsuspecting mother walked down the front path to the mailbox, the sun glistening down on a perfect spring day. She was humming a tune she had heard on the radio the other day on her drive down to the grocery store. It was a song from her younger days by a singer she and her friends had swooned over in their prime. She smiled at the memory, blissfully unaware of the heartbreak she would feel when she opened the metal cover. The hinges on the mailbox gave a sharp squeak as the light from above cascaded down onto a pile of crisp envelopes. She grabbed the mail, shutting the door to the box, and returning back to the cream-colored house her husband had purchased for her after his return from the war. It had been the house in which all three of her children had been raised and where she hoped to visit with small grandchildren one day. Her fingers deftly flipped through the mail, sorting them in between separate fingers. A smile flashed on her face when she saw her son's name, but the look of pride soon vanished upon spotting the return address. The time had finally come.

 His name was Denny Harding. His age: 22. He was a college student and an athlete, plenty used to hard work and discipline, but so unused to the horrors outside the little Midwestern town he was raised in. Some of his friends had gone off to college in faraway states, eager to put as much distance between themselves and their families as possible. Denny felt the drive for independence, but also recognized the advantages staying close to home would have.

Every weekend he drove back to the little house on Crestwood Street. The smell of burgers and hotdogs on the grill wafting through the air from the backyard. He'd walk along the side of the house and pushing open the gate, he'd find his father with a spatula in his hand and one arm around the waist of his mother. They were an old-fashioned couple, but it was nice to see their love when all he witnessed at school was an overabundance of raging hormones. The family dog, Tex, a golden retriever of the age of five would gallop across the freshly cut lawn to greet him. A scream from the swing set would signal the approach of his baby sister Sally as she begged to be tossed in the air. She was still young, twelve years his junior, but no matter how heavy he claimed she was getting he would never let her down. His brother approached in a quieter manner, but Henry was older than Sally and felt her antics to be below his level of maturity. Henry loved to point out that he wasn't simply fourteen; he was fourteen and three quarters. He was a bit of trouble for his mother, but a single look from his father put him in his place.

Denny had always looked forward to the trips back home, and more than regretted the Sunday evenings when he left. School was a burden, a burden, his father reminded him, which would result in a better future. He was a senior that year. Times had changed dramatically in the five years since President Kennedy was shot. A war was raging in the east and economic hardship was on the brink. Worldly worries did not concern Denny as he was trapped on campus. When he went home on the weekends, he’d notice an extra wrinkle from worry in his mother’s face or a new patch of gray in his father’s hair. To them, the events going on welcomed them every morning on their doorstep. The paper was filled with gruesome stories that caused them to frown and shake their head in disappointment. They use to say how different things had been back in their day. His father would normally catch him up on the news on the weekends, pulling Denny aside so not to upset the others. It came as a surprise then when Denny received a phone call from his father one Wednesday afternoon.

“Denny, I need you to come home. We’ve had some news.”

“Can it wait until Friday, dad? I’ve got a test tomorrow that I’m studying for.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “I think it would be best for you to hear it now.”

“And you can’t tell me over the phone?” Denny asked, hoping it would be something quick. He glanced around at his fellow students laden with books and thought of his history book lying open on his bed.

“No, son.”

Denny sighed. “I’ll be home in about an hour.”

“We’ll…see you then.”

There was a click as the line disconnected.

He sat in the living room, staring at the paper he held in his hands.

Order To Report For Induction

 

The President of the United States,

To Dennis Michael Harding

1278 Crestwood Street

Waukegan, IL 45406

 

Greeting:

You are hereby ordered for induction into the Armed Forces of the United States, and to report at Chicago North Shore & Milwaukee Railroad, Edison Court Station, Waukegan, Illinois

on March 11, 1968 at 8:14 A.M.

for forwarding to an Armed Forces Induction Station.

The letter went on to give an important notice, but the information Denny needed he had already read. He could hear his mother sobbing in the other room and his father sat across from him at the kitchen table with a weary face. Denny’s blue eyes drifted to the doorway where his brother stood with the strangest look. He seemed to be fighting back tears and shock at the same time. The three men heard Sally talking to her mother.

“Mommy? Why are you crying? What’s wrong?”

Denny looked back at his father. “I have to get back to the campus.  I’ll need to give them notice and pack my things.” He stood up and his father followed suit.

“Bring your things back here. I’ll drive you there.”

“You have to work dad; I’ll be fine.”

“No. I needed a day off anyway. Next Monday will be fine.”

Nothing more was said as Denny exited the kitchen and walked by the living room. His mother’s sobs had subsided, but he didn’t dare walk in incase he made it worse again. Feeling numb, he opened the front door and walked out.