June 1968 Vietnam

My oldest son was born while I was in Vietnam. I left the States in October of 1967 and he was born on June 27, 1968. We had been through the "TET" offensive and had again taken control of the country. Mail was being delivered almost daily now, on the 30th of June I received a letter from Sharon. She was living in Chicago with two other girls and on the 27th she had set a letter to me on the kitchen table to be mailed. Before she could mail it she was taken to the hospital and delivered our first born, Bob jr. One of the two girls had mailed the letter for her, and on the outside of the envelope on the back were these words. "Congrats, Baby Boy". I sat on my cot in the 100+ degree tent and just stared at the words. I have loved only one woman all my life, I have been to war, I have watched my own father die just days after introducing him to my newborn daughter. I have looked death right in the eye and not backed down, I have seen a lot and done a lot, I have decided to die rather than live and changed my mind at the very last second. I have never faced the mixture of emotions that swirled through my mind and body, since that day in June 1968. I had just been married, and returned to a battle zone, where at any moment in time, something irreversible could happen. Sharon and I had created a human being, a baby boy, that I could not see until I returned to the United States. There was a lump in my throat and a feeling of fear, joy, concern, wonder, sorrow and loneliness. My heart was racing, my body was tired, I needed to open the envelope but my hands were shaking. The raw emotion in this news was overwhelming me.

There was a song by Bobby Bare, called Detroit City, and the lyrics went like this.
Last night I went to sleep in Detroit City. (Vietnam) And I dreamed about those cotton fields and home, I dreamed about my mother, dear old papa, sister and brother, And I dreamed about that girl, who's been waiting' for so long, I want to go home, I want to go home, Oh Lord, I want to go home!

The inside of the letter had no hint of a son, things were normal at home. Sharon was getting ready to go to work, she worked at a Doctor's office, an OB GYN, so no worry's there. It was in fact the Dr. that delivered my son. I did not even know if she had named him after me or named him at all. When I finally came to my senses I realized that there is something that has to be done. Probably every new father in the world had something to do at a time like this, so to shirk my duty would be a shame. I had to go buy a round of beer (or two) at the enlisted mans club.

It was a war zone, but at the same time, the Red Cross was there and it was their job to notify soldiers of births, deaths or any notable event from home. It was July 1st when they looked me up, I did not know that it was their job to notify us of births, I had witnessed the "death in the family" message delivered to a fellow soldier. It was not a pretty thing to witness a nineteen, year, old, soldier cry. Now, I did know that my Father was in ill health, from the letters from home, but he was supposed to be on the mend. So when the man in civilian clothes introduced himself as an agent from the Red Cross, with news from home, I was not prepared for his message. He handed me a telegram and said I have some good news from home for you, I wanted to kiss him when he told me the details of the birth, Mother and son doing fine. To this day I regret not keeping the letter and the telegram, also for not kissing the man that brought the news. I might have been sent home sooner!

Soon pictures and letters started pouring in from home, every one wanting to give me the news first. The first letter from Sharon was one to remember, I could feel her glowing 12,000 miles away. She acted as if she had done this thing all by herself, I helped some! They say that the job of a soldier is tough, NOT SO! The people that we leave behind, whether they be brothers, sisters, or mother and father, they have to live daily without knowing the circumstances or condition of their soldier, that has got be hard. Now I know from having my own son in harms way what a parent goes through. Now If you care to multiply that worry, ten fold, you could come close to that of an expectant, newlywed, first time, mother, 300 miles from her own home, and her soldier husband 12,000 miles from her side. It is my belief that an expectant, mother, or any mother can and will do what needs to be done, regardless of any obstacle.

Copyright © 2008 Bob Taylor