The yard was my responsibility and putting off raking the leaves and pine needles wasn’t going to make them go away. It was the fall of 1968 and my dad was serving a combat tour flying the C-123 out of an airbase in Thailand known as Nakom Phenom or NKP for short.

I turned 10 years old that year and began playing the trumpet in the fourth grade at Sealy Elementary School in Tallahassee, Fla. My teacher was Mrs. Hauseman and, boy, did she like to teach. In fact I can proudly claim now that if it hadn’t been for her, I probably would never have gotten out of the fourth grade. You see for some reason she just insisted that I learn how to do long division. Boy, did I hate long division! I do recall with fond memory how good lunch was and how much fun I had during recess. My report card actually reflects how well I excelled at both of those activities.

The raking really wasn’t such a big deal because I would always look forward to having a huge pile to run and jump into. Afterwards, what was even more fun was setting the pile of pine needles and leaves on fire. I would drag the pile down into the ditch along side the road and throw a match in and watch them burn. The flame would then settle into a kind of smoldering heap and late in the evenings as the air began to chill the smoke from that pile of burning leaves would linger becoming suspended just above the ground. What a fragrance.

Around supper time, my mom would give a shout that supper was ready. Walter Cronkite used to come on the evening news right at supper time and occasionally we would get to watch the news while we ate. I knew the news created an unsettled feeling for my mom back then because in those days there were nightly reports of how many servicemen were killed that day in Vietnam.

Besides the news, watching television back in those days was simple; you only had the three major networks. “The Beverly Hillbillies” was the number one show on TV along with “The Glenn Campbell Good Time Hour.” Hot Wheels cars had just been invented and you could buy a balsa-wood airplane for a quarter. If you splurged, by spending a dime more, you could get one with a wind-up propeller!

If you were caught sitting around the house, mom would always find “something” for us kids to do. So we didn’t stay in the house. We stayed out and about not coming home until it was dark outside. I used to love catching lightning bugs! I also used to love when the county bug spray truck would come around, spewing all that white smoke out the back as he made his way up and down our street. Now you want to talk about fun?

That was the greatest stuff in the world to get out and run around in! Probably wouldn’t advise that today!

One day, I remember getting on the school bus as usual and riding down Highway 27 to my school. When we got there, apparently some kind of commotion had occurred because our gym teacher and a few other teachers didn’t show up to work that day.

I recall with vivid clarity even today why they didn’t show up and that was 41 years ago. They were not at school because they were participating in an anti-Vietnam War protest and rally. In wonder, I asked myself: How could these “teachers” oppose what my dad was doing? How could anyone be against what my dad and all of the other veterans who were proudly serving their country in the air, on the land, and on the sea in Vietnam were doing?

I have come to realize that many of our Vietnam veterans were overlooked back then and treated quite disrespectfully. I’ve heard stories of returning Vietnam veterans who were spit on and called terrible names by a small segment of our population. It angers me even more today when I think about how many veterans never enjoyed the support I experienced during my tour in Afghanistan and now as I serve in Iraq.

By the grace of God, my father returned home to us in 1969. There were men he served with who did not. 58,148 Americans were killed in Vietnam. The average age of those killed — 23 years old. There were also approximately 304,000 Vietnam veterans who were wounded in battle mostly suffering amputations or other severe injuries. Dad never talked very much about his experiences in Vietnam unless I specifically asked him to share with me what it was like.

My father passed away exactly two weeks after our nation was attacked by terrorists on Sept. 11, 2001. Hanging on the wall in my mother’s home is a display containing the decorations he earned during a 23-year career as an Air Force officer. Over the china cabinet is the shadow box containing the American flag presented to my mom and the 21 shell casings from the 21-gun salute rendered at his funeral.

The American military was not defeated in Vietnam and will not be defeated today.

As our nation continues to face conflicts on far-away battlefields with enemies seeking to take away our freedoms, please continue to remember the thousands in uniform who are in harm’s way today all over the world. Also, someone you know whose current age is around 55 to 65 or older may be a Vietnam War veteran. We still have time to thank them. Let them know how proud you are of their service and commitment to their country. A job well done, good and faithful servant.

Go Air Force, Marine Corps, Army, Navy and Coast Guard both active, guard and reserves. I’d love to hear from all of the Vietnam veterans out there. Please write.

Lt Col GS Laffitte Camp Bucca, 887 ESFS, APO AE 09375; or e-mail greg.laffitte@gmail.com