Basura: I was nicknamed ‘Mad Dog’ just like Mr. Mattis

“All wars of any appreciable length have a secularizing effect upon engaged societies, a diminution of the authority of old religious and moral values and a parallel elevation of new utilitarian, hedonistic, or pragmatic values . . . ”   — Nisbet, Robert. The Present Age: Progress and Anarchy in Modern America                  

Robert Nisbet, in The Present Age: Progress and Anarchy in Modern America, describes a diminution of old religious/moral values, and parallel elevation of utilitarian, hedonistic, pragmatic values. I think I understand his point.

I felt that, as a warrior (serving in Vietnam), I was no longer human in the same way I had been. My concerns became very fundamental. Abraham Maslow, in speaking of the hierarchy of needs, showed us a pyramid. I found, in war, the concerns were very basic, with little room for the more ethereal stuff. I didn’t read. I wasn’t attuned to the arts. Disputes were more prevalent than debates.

On a recent trip out of state, I made time to visit an old buddy I was stationed with for some months, before Vietnam. We both went into war. I was wounded and came back early. He stayed in country for his 13 months. Prior to going to war, he had ambition to become a Southern Baptist minister. He wouldn’t drink alcohol, wouldn’t use foul language, and never missed attending church.

Despite our vast differences, we became friends, and remain so. Our wives are friends now; they speak sometimes of what they refer to as a sisterhood of women with Vietnam vets (WWVV? What kind of sorority might that be?). They’ve heard the stories. They’ve known the thrashing during sleep, and the nightmares. My friend and I lost track of each other, and didn’t communicate from 1967 until something like 40 years later.

He did not pursue the ministry. He did not remain a teetotaler. “I never touched a drop of alcohol,” he told me, “until Vietnam. The Marine Corps taught me how to drink.” He learned some new vocabulary, too. His language was always befitting a clergyman – until war.

He remains very troubled by the death in combat of a mutual friend. He continues to hold significant guilt for doing what the military wanted him to do. He’s had what appears to be a good life. He had a fine career, has a long, loving marriage, two kids, a grandchild, many friends, and material comfort. He is an active member of his church, and sings every Sunday in the choir.

But the war still bothers him, regularly and severely. I do find that with counseling I am able to speak about it – maybe write a little about it too. For a time a history professor invited me to speak to his classes about my war experience. I found that, while I liked doing it, it stirred up a lot of bad sediment, before and after. I decided the cost wasn’t worth it.

There are things I’ve gained from having served in the military. The GI Bill paid my way through Grand Valley. My home loan was guaranteed by the Veterans’ Administration. I picked up lots of stories. While my late brother-in-law was initially troubled to think his little sister was going out with a Vietnam veteran who served in the Marine Corps, he eventually got used to me.

Andy liked to josh with me about the Corps being a department of the U.S. Navy, where he had so proudly served. “Yeah, it is,” I told him. “The Men’s Department.” Our military experience was something we shared, and talked about many times over the years. I wore my Purple Heart lapel pin when I attended his funeral, with full military honors, earlier this year.

There was a time my nickname was “Mad Dog.” I can date that to 1966. If I ever meet the nominee for Secretary of Defense, I’ll ask him when he first came to bear that name. I’ll gladly cede it to him, though, even if he came by it later than I.