The Vietnam War Never Ended (At Least for Me)

As a teenager in the 1980s, I was the ideal age for the onslaught of the Vietnam War-themed movies released almost rapid fire by Hollywood. There was Chuck Norris’s Missing in Action and all its sequels, Rambo of course, and then more serious fare like Platoon, Hamburger Hill, The Hanoi Hilton, and the surreal Full Metal Jacket. These were preceded by 1979’s Apocalypse Now, the best of the lot. I saw them all, and grew obsessed with the Vietnam War, in part its futility, but also with the imagery of these films.

Perhaps I’ve imagined it but it seems like there was always at least one shot in most of these movies that was in slow motion and depicted a soldier carrying a fallen comrade while sweeping orchestral music played and bullets whizzed by or a mortar exploded in a rice paddy–visceral, stimulating stuff. I identify with these celluloid scenes almost every morning that I take my toddler to school.

After parking, I lift G in his car seat in one hand and grab B’s arm and we first navigate the parking lot. In his seat, G weighs a good thirty pounds (or at least it feels like that) so I’m forced to lean him on my leg, limping like I’ve been wounded, but we keep moving. At times, B refuses to walk so I lug him under my arm, almost fully imitating this cinematic moment, except with miniature people (I try to dress my boys in camouflage as much as possible, too, so that contributes to the overall feeling).

Then we cross the street, up a walkway and in the front door. Next we hustle through a cavernous hall, down some steps and finally reach his classroom. I set G down on the floor and get B situated, we say our goodbyes, then it’s back through the same treacherous route for me and G until we get to the car and head off. Once again we’ve evaded the Viet Cong, but only until next time. Talk about futility. To quote the battle-hardened grunt whose in almost every one of these war movies, “Same shit, different day.”