Vietnam Vet Remembrance
Vietnam Vet Remembrance
By Dominic Certo
In Vietnam, I was a combat corpsman assigned to the battlefield with the 7th Marines. I recall leaping out of a helicopter to rejoin my platoon and feeling the ground rise up to meet me like a brick wall, gravity pulling me down into brutal bloody fighting. At 18, I experienced fear as unbridled anxiety, confusion and inner conflict, repeatedly having to make the same choice — “fight or flight.” I was motivated reflexively to fight and aid, almost like a body on automatic pilot, due to my training. But the enemy was hidden by the jungle and attacking with frenzy from every direction. In the blinding swirling chaos, I could clearly hear the screams of warriors engaging each other and deadly weaponry.
In that moment of raw truth, I was suddenly aware that all the glamour, of pretended valor from celluloid heroes like John Wayne – was the farthest thing from reality. What kind of shattered glory remained to the Marine right in front of me, riddled with bullets, covered in blood, crying like a child, his eyes focused on my own, his lips begging me not to let him die? It was a cruel revelation for a young idealistic man — forced to face the real world seconds before death or life with his limbs blown off.
At the time, coming home from active duty on the battlefield was like readjusting to a culture that bore no resemblance to the one I’d just departed. Scornful, self-righteous, spoiled people, so smug and so certain of their own politically correct vision of the world, began a process of “redefining” who – and what — I had become. Lucky to be alive, I was a vet home from an unpopular war – an inglorious tainted “anti-hero,” shamed and shunned like I had some form of deadly plague. I found myself fighting a new war on two fronts, inside and outside myself, protecting and defending my own core identity. My strategy was to join a group of positive-thinking vets and to rely upon the institutions I’d fought to defend — government, business and citizenry.
But once again, a new arena of combat emerged. Naively continuing to believe in the system and its ideals as an intact structural entity was a mistake, because as with all things human, there are cracks and broken parts. How many countless veterans never found a responsive VA ready, willing, and able to treat their bouts of depression, anxiety, hopelessness, PTSD, plus other, more complicated disorders and medical conditions? How many broken men were abandoned and left to their own devices to make the pain stop, even to the point of committing suicide? Didn’t anybody care that every day, 22 combat vets killed themselves — almost one every hour? In many cases, drugs and poison were the preferred methods to end it all for aging soldiers who were, on average, 60 years old; an age when they are forgotten, ignored and considered beyond repair, and coincidentally, the average age of the Vietnam combat vet.
For me, the solution was to fight my way to the top of my field in business. I wanted more for myself and my family, so I toiled away to build a company that served the public, while providing an environment of growth and comfort for my family and employees. Believing in the system I had fought to defend and its proven methods of continued growth, I entered the high finance, public investment world. There, the Svengalis of Wall Street used their talents to lure new talent onto their teams, playing by a questionable set of rules. Unfortunately, those rules had the same raw elements as war, filled with confusion, chaos, and a “take no prisoners” attitude. Those at the top, as in war, were overseers to the inevitable conflicts, enjoying the spoils, but rarely participating in the shedding of blood.
In my case, taking the company public was supported by my family, employees and combat brothers. We created a company that grew from one restaurant to 50 and, for 20 years, was profitable and supportive of the individuals and their families who’d made it all possible. It was a Cinderella story – except with a tragic ending. Too many individuals in the toilet of the investment community prided themselves on redefining the rules and exploiting the system. They viewed the public arena as an easy staging area to run clever schemes and create wealth for themselves, ignoring the fabric and intentions of rules in place. Too many of them benefitted from one-upmanship and exploitation of the system.
While the comradery of my brothers-in-arms and my supportive family made the loss of a lifetime of work bearable, it did not make it acceptable. As in combat, there are elements of loss that never make sense, questioning the very essence of the struggle. While there is nefarious competition in business, humankind must abide by the rules of convention for common good and learn to avoid the temptation for undeserved greed and power.
DOMINIC CERTO, KSJ is the author of Gold in the Coffins, which is the CIPA 2015 EVVY winner for best Mystery/Detective-Thriller. He is a decorated war veteran who served with the 7th Marines in Vietnam, receiving numerous medals of valor. Veterans’ issues are close to his heart, and as an advisory board member of Operation Homefront, Certo works with the non-profit to offer stability for military families by providing food, housing, and ongoing support. One of Certo’s sons is currently in the military, and has served Afghanistan and Iraq with the Blue Angels.
Category: Blog
