The human cost of war, and those who pay it
Vietnam was a hard war to come home from. My dad was told to change into civilian clothes as soon as possible after the flight home in order to avoid some of the abuse that returning Vietnam veterans were put through by an ungrateful public. He went on with his life, never mentioning to anyone the fact that he had spent a year overseas in the army. In the mid 1980’s he saw an announcement and invitation for a special dinner for Vietnam veterans, hosted by the Vietnamese refugee population in the state where we lived. Immediately he was skeptical and didn’t want to attend, thinking that there must be some sort of deception involved, but my mom insisted that he go and take the whole family with him. Attending that dinner was an intense emotional experience for him, as he had been home from the war for over a decade and this was the first time anyone had thanked him for serving. Because of this I make it a point to thank all of the veterans who come to my clinic.
There is a long tradition of military service in my family. Sylvanus Sanderson fought in the American Revolution. Henry Sanderson marched in the Mormon Battalion in the Mexican-American War. My great-grandpa George Sanderson fought in World War I, and his son Ivan served in World War II. My dad served in Vietnam. All of these veterans in my family were members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, with the exception of Sylvanus, who died around the time the Church was organized (and before photography was widely available).