yes, I’m going to talk about it.
If you’re under 50, you probably have a cognitive understanding of the war. And maybe sick of those of us who went through it. All I want to do here is try and impart the visceral emotive impact of the war. Not from a political viewpoint or from someone who was there, but from the home front and how this war was just behind your eyes, like the disembodied spirit of a deceased loved one………that you never had closure on. And you knew that closure would not happen..
I’m sure some think WHY? Why do these old people go on about this fecking war?
The framework is essential to understand.
First, in the sixties there was usually only one TV in the house. And men were the boss–always….. so men ruled the TV. Second–there were 3 stations–no UHF, No Fox. Third–the men who ruled were from Brokow’s ‘Greatest Generation’–either WWII vets or men who grew up in that ‘wave the flag of glory’ era.
TV news was expanding. The top 3 were competing vigorously, just like today. No one in the US Armed Forces knew what to do with all these newsmen (men only) shipping overseas. This war was televised, and I say that with no trite anachronisms. Totally new ground in broadcasting. Since nobody knew what they should and should not be letting the cameras see, tv was constantly sending pictures back as the big 3 fought for new stories– ie, more viewers.
What they sent back was red–blood everywhere. Screaming men. trucks full of GIs wounded or dead, medics holding bottles, blood soaked bandages, civilians screaming over dead bodies with flies, dead children. There was no such thing as restraint. This was new ground for television as a media, new for the military and the US Government. No one, and I mean fucking no one, could have comprehended that television was going to make this war a daily program that changed cultures and our collective consciousness.
Every night, fathers turned on the TV and there was blood, bullets, and bombs. The 6 O’clock news was full, sometimes they ran hour long specials about events, like during the horrific Tet Offensive. Men never turned it off–we were all macho, rah rah, the US is king of all nations. We’ll crush these commie [insert racial slur here].
So my generation watched in horror–what in God’s name did that asshole in the White House get us into? Daddies watched it to cheer on our men in green; surely this will be over soon. We’re the greatest country in the world. We don’t fail.
You had no choice, except to turn off the TV. But you didn’t. You could not look away.
Today, all the murders and mass shootings, the blood and gore is blurred. How would you feel if every night, the news showed dead or wounded people being dragged out of churches, schools, etc? People screaming in agony, holding wounds that are gushing. Day after day.
Numbing, destructive assaults.
That was Nam.
This record was not played on the radio near me. I could never play it when daddy was home. I looked at it and giggled–this was my little secret. Turned a lot of kids on to this version in high school. The ragtime piano just makes the whole thing work. Don’t you just love satire when you can almost taste it?