January 1968

Joe,

I know I haven’t written in a while. I’ve been writing every day in the diary. I’m going to give it to you just as soon as I get home, but I need to talk about today. I’m sitting at the bottom of Hill 1000 and I want to explain. I need someone to understand.

Hill 1000. I’m down here at the bottom, but I’m supposed to be up at the top. Up there with my platoon where the war is raging. But it’s over now. Today is the final day of the war for me. No matter how it all turns out. I’m finished.

It started back in September. That was the first time we took Hill 1000. It’s 1000 feet from top to bottom. Now we’re here again. The lieutenant joked that it’s probably only 998 feet from all the napalm we dumped on it 4 months ago. Coming back didn’t sit well with any of us, but what choice do we have?

Last week was the second time. The zoomies screeched overhead to drop their artillery. The enemy was dug in so deep that the bombs never seemed to bother them. The little people…they always find a way. The arty bothered us though. It’s called "danger close". The artillery is dropped almost on top of us. The ground shook so bad. We burrowed in as close and deep as we could.

The radio went off again and I gave it to my lieutenant. He told them about Mitchell being down with a snake bite. Apparently they didn’t care. Even my LT looked disgusted. He informed us that we were moving out. Up the hill. All the way to the summit.

MOVE, MOVE, MOVE, GO, GO, GO, GET IT DONE, GET IT DONE! I think they yell at us so we won’t think about what we’re doing and where we’re going. The lieutenant keeps ordering us to move up, to go forward. And amazingly, we do. I don’t know why we obey, but we always do. We moved steadily up and into the hail of bullets and frags exploding around us.

We are like sheep being led to the slaughter, and as sheep before their shearers are silent, we too do not open our mouths. It’s biblical, Joe. We follow blindly.

I monitored the radio and heard the orders given calmly from a slick that’s hovering safely above the insanity. Orders to move up. Another fifty meters, another twenty meters, ten more meters. My lieutenant tries to be cautious but the brass wants action. The radio blares out orders at him. Take the hill! What are we waiting for? Take the fucking hill! And we do, Joe. We do.

When we get to the top there’s no one there. No one. Not even a body. I figure they’re around somewhere…laughing at us.

When we got back to the base I went a little nuts. I need a reason for the dead and the wounded. Don’t we owe them that much? I got into it with Lieutenant Goldman. I’ve told you about him, my CO. I like him, I really do and I respect him. But I can see that the LT doesn’t believe in this anymore than the rest of us do. I’m not sure if recognizing the insanity makes him a better man…or a worse one. I know it’s not the lieutenant’s fault, but I really need someone to blame, and he’s convenient. I got into it with another lieutenant as well. I’m barely holding it together.

The next morning they pinned a medal on my chest. The Army Commendation Medal for Valor. Translation: for killing someone. I stood at attention like a good soldier while the Colonel pinned it on and then I snapped off a great salute.

That was last week. Where are we this week? You guessed it, back on Hill 1000 for the third time. Bleeding and dying on it again. They’ll never stop, Joe. NEVER. So today, I stopped it.

A guy died in my arms, McNair. I held him as he took his last breath, but that didn’t slow me down any, no sir! I still kept obeying and moving forward, upward toward the slaughter.

But the head…

The head rolled off of a gurney and bounced a few feet down the hill. It was sheared clean off by our own artillery. By Tac Air. The Tac Air that I called in. I’m just an RTO, I have no authority, but I said the words into the radio. The result is this head. And now I’m finished with it. With all of it -- Forever.

I took off my gear and told the lieutenant I was done. He told me I was ruining my life. He was trying to help but I’m beyond all that now. Next Sergeant Anderson intervened and tried to convince me that I just needed a break. He could talk the LT into giving me a break. That’s my sergeant. He’s always trying to fix everything. Not realizing that some things are beyond repair. The LT finally gave up and ordered me down the hill.

So here I am at the bottom of Hill 1000 when I’m supposed to be up on the top. I’m not sure what the army will do to me for this. It’s so hard to care. Don’t ever come here, Joe. Go to Canada, or even go to jail if you have to, but please promise me you’ll never come here.

I’ll be home soon. One way or another I’ll be home. Don’t tell Mom any of this. Just tell her I said I’m fine.

Love,

Roger