Final Reflections

This semester my perspective on what it means to be a soldier and/or a veteran of war shifted and evolved enormously. I was forced to interrogate my mistrust of these figures and think critically about the many forces and systems of power, which factor into bringing an act of [organized] violence into fruition.  Not only did I gain greater empathy for soldiers and veterans, but I expanded upon my definitions for both terms taking into consideration how “the war at home” claims and shapes lives in a very real sense.

As I mentioned in one of my earlier posts, I feel like the Vietnam Era had been this surreal cluster of historical events and imagery hanging over my head for most of my life. A swarm of constantly nagging voices from that generation accusing my own of not understanding the gravity and righteousness of it all or being comparatively apathetic. I had a hunch it was not that simple and after taking this class I am able to truly articulate why. The historical climate of the Vietnam War Era was unique and not uniformly united: good vs. bad. What conflict ever is, right? Class and opportunity played an important role in who participated in the protests and who was chosen to go overseas to defend it. Although the scene may have appeared to be the Man vs. the People protesting within the U.S., many of the nation’s people were being puppeted and/or disposed of in Vietnam. Much more was distinct including media coverage and the repercussions of the draft.  Finally that cluster has been untangled and illuminated. I understand the climate of the war profoundly better. I know see protest language like “baby killer” as equally problematic as the U.S. government’s rhetoric about the ‘savageness of communist Indochina’.

Looking back on my very first post, I think that this class has in fact been an important reminder that “being a college senior does not mean that I have any less to learn”.  I have been shocked, angered, and moved.  All of which indicate to me that something important has happened.

The experience of Latin@s in the U.S. during the 20^th century

 I found the book Gods Go Begging to be incredibly useful in thinking about the experience of Latin@s during the 20^th century and today. It touched upon the crisis of identity and desire for belonging inherent in the concept of Latin America as well as the complex role of Chican@s/Latin@s in the overlapping Vietnam War and Civil Rights Movement.  I found the characters of Jesse and the Padre to be instrumental to the readers’ understanding of Latinidad. One of the most important details of the Chicano/Latino experience of the Vietnam War that has stuck with me has to do with the soldier/veteran’s struggle to reckon with the various similarities between the Vietnamese farmer and Latino campesino. Not only did they share skin tones and labor routines, but they were often both killed or victimized in their struggle for national belonging. Learning about the Latin@ experience during the Vietnam Era went hand in hand with learning that it is not a singular uniform entity and neither is it unlike that of many other people of color or underprivileged/targeted folk.

The film “Hearts and Minds” had an incredible emotional impact on me. After watching it, I felt like I’d been run over by a truck. I drifted to my 10pm rehearsal nauseous and disconnected from the world as if underwater. Suddenly I was revisiting pieces of my oral history interview in my head, wishing I had prodded further in response to certain comments or observations he had made and wondering whether there was something grittier and greater just under the surface. But beyond that, it made me feel devastated.  Listening to the wailing of a grieving Vietnamese rural farmer father who had seen his entire family annihilated in a matter of minutes by a foreign bomb was almost intolerable when juxtaposed with a clip of a white U.S. politician sitting calmly by a lake explaining that the Vietnamese “do not value life the way we do.” As Gods Go Begging seemed to suggest, we have gone to great lengths to estrange ourselves from one another, but we have more in common than we can possibly imagine.

Oral history and its methods

 This class encouraged me to consider how oral history differed from other types of historical research and what the advantages and disadvantages of its methods were. I learned that although oral history privileges the individual’s voice and contributions it does not necessarily allow them to construct how they are represented as well. The oral historian still plays an active role in not only listening to the narrator but considering which themes from their story would be significant to the intended audience. This understanding greatly informed my grasp and use of interviewing and historical reading techniques. I realized that there is no magic formula, which strikes a balance between making the narrator feel comfortable and enabled and shaping the stories into a thematic narrative. Rather, each interview and each situation requires its own active negotiating. I think that the excerpt from “Freedom Flyers” that we read for class really shed light on this concept for me. Although one of my initial reactions was to be critical of how Moye used pieces of the Tuskegee airmen’s stories to serve his own argument, I later realized that perhaps this wasn’t such a bad thing. Moye had done the work of grounding their anecdotes in an in-depth historical context of racial tension and social change, which ultimately emphasized the larger significance of their life experiences. Isn’t that what history ought to do? Represent a myriad of voices and tie them to something larger. Make them count.

Presenting and analyzing historical research

Oddly, it was not so much what the veteran I interviewed did tell me about his war experiences that made an impression on me, but rather what he didn’t say at all. It was reading between the lines and understanding the significance of his deep breaths, tone changes, and pauses that had the biggest effect on me. Because although he may have been quite accustomed to telling his story and had an idea of how he wanted to represent himself, I knew better than to assume he had that part of his life neatly tied up in a bow. Although Adame used the term ‘Chicano’ to describe his ethnicity, he made no mention to a Chicano rights movement or how he might fit within that struggle even though he returned to East LA in the heat of it all. He did not see it as part of his story or at least the one he wanted to tell, so who am I to tell him otherwise? But the theme was there under the surface. It was in the outrage he expressed when mistaken for a Black man while stationed in Louisiana and in a letter he wrote to a local newspaper about what a true Chicano soldier ought to be like.

Completing the blog assignment was difficult. I felt a great responsibility to represent Adame accurately while also compellingly. As I listened through the recording of the interview in search of clips to fit under the various sub-themes, I kept re-discovering interesting pieces that I felt needed to be included. Some because of how Adame told the story (born storyteller that he is) and others because I felt they illuminated something important about the time period or the logic behind war. It was a struggle to exclude certain elements of the story, but I hope I arrived at a final product that will engage our audience and serve “my veteran” well.

Our bodies, Our stories, The Struggle We’re Apart of

Alfredo Véa’s book Gods Go Begging explores the concepts of meaning and purpose in self-awareness. Véa suggests that a consciousness and embrace of the complexity of our body, our history, our culture and our environment provides us with a rootedness in the space we occupy and therefore a meaningful role in the narrative of which we are a part. Conversely, if we are made to feel alone and insignificant through a loss of ownership or agency over our own bodies, we engage in a self-perpetuating cycle of violence which is stripped of purpose or substance. This phenomenon is described artfully in the chapter, “The Ballet Rose” in which Jesse and Eddy climb Potrero hill to visit the poor and violent neighborhood of the projects above.  Before the climb, Eddy relates the warning he’d heard from the paramedics and ambulance drivers who had nicknamed the spot Tourette’s hill: “The closer you get to the top of this terrain, the less control you’ll have over your faculties, your senses, even your conscience” (166). As they progress, the men find this to be true,  their bodies “convulsing uncontrollably,” and expletives spewing from their mouths as they move. At the top of the hill, the people there are guarded, skeptical, and effectively deadened by the assault of icons, advertisements, and other false hopes upon their bodies. This scene is meant to dramatize the link between bodily awareness/control and violence and estrangement and in so doing, expose their signifiance.

On the flip side, understanding ourselves as part of a greater struggle or purpose restores our humanity and allows the artificially constructed barriers within ourselves and between one another to dissolve so that we are able to see “the face of the enemy as if in a mirror” (287). To illustrate the power of this connection, Véa introduces the concept of ‘supposing’ or questioning the world as an indicator of hope and foundation for spiritual faith. Véa suggests that hope is the most radical weapon one can possess because if you are able to see yourself outside of the misery you are caught up in then you will feel compelled to move beyond it.

To develop this theme, Véa draws a close parallel between the war in Vietnam (as experienced by Jesse and the Chaplain) and the “war at home”. Just as the commanding generals did not want to disclose the news of Martin Luther King’s death to the black combat soldiers for fear that it would dishearten them to the point of a strike or unified rebellion, the systematic inequality at work in the poor neighborhoods of San Francisco strives to maintain this form of estrangement . The generals understood that knowledge was intimately connected with unity, solidarity, and therefore, resistance; an understanding that Jesse utilizes in his efforts to educate Calvin and liberate him from his self-imprisonment so that he may understand his place in history and the value of his thoughts and actions. Through this discussion, readers are introduced to the ‘threat’ or power of those who possess and use “words of immovable purpose”(289) and their transformative capacity. The love between Persephone and Mai and their willful perserverance despite sadness and trauma demonstrates a hope formed from a shared struggle.  Similarly, both Calvin and the Chaplain are liberated when they are able to see their respective hills (that of Potrero and the one on the Laotian border) not as isolated instances of trauma and grief but as reminiscent of the struggles experienced by many.

Véa’s critique of war in this book is fittingly emotional and multi-dimensional. Rather than criticize the act as if it existed in a vacuum, he exposes the humanity within it but exploring its motivations and repercussions. He applies this method both to the institutional form or war as we think of it (Vietnam) and to the violence, poverty, and trauma in our own communities so that the readers may see themselves as part of a larger battle of extraordinary purpose.

Freedom Flyers

While reading this excerpt I was struck by Moye’s unique technique of framing the comments of the narrators about their military experience during World War II in the historical context of the birth of the African American Civil Rights movement.  Focusing specifically on pilots allowed him to discuss the significance of one of the only Army Air Corps training facilities that accepted blacks, which was located in Tuskegee, Alabama and the military racial tensions that ensued. It also gave Moye an opportunity to illuminate some of the possible motivations his narrators had for pursuing pilot training based on the politics of the Military at the time and the racial climate of the country. He quotes the pilot Harvey Alexander who says,  ”I was aware of discrimination  and segregation on the ground, how things were there. But up in the air, I was free as  bird because I was in control”. This narrative of finding agency through navigation of a space (in this case, the sky) without restrictions shapes the comments given by the narrators in the prologue in which veterans describe the appeal of piloting. For example, one of the veterans, Walter Henry explains why he was so attracted to the idea of flying as opposed to on-ground combat saying, “It was such a nice, clean thought: that you could fight (for your ideals), but at the same time you didn’t have to be involved in these brawls with people with bayonets and rifles and all that sort of thing”. The first chapter goes on to describe the valuable contribution made by blacks in the military during WWII to address and work against systemic racism through the refusal to comply with certain discriminatory mandates as well as the opportunity to showcase their own talents/capabilities as servicemen. Although I enjoyed learning about his aspect of the larger historical movement for racial equality in the U.S., I am left wondering, does this piece (consciously or unconsciously) privilege the “nice, clean” contribution of policy change through military pressure over the often violently-opposed protests and street/bus demonstrations happening in the civilian realm across the country? How could Moye have avoided this? Perhaps by asking for the narrators to comment more on their perceptions of the resistance efforts happening outside the military at the time?

The Pre-interview process: How I’m gearing up for my first interview

Although I have not yet done my interview, I now have the opportunity to reflect on the readings and discussions that addressed the interview process as well as consider the advice of my fellow classmates based on their experiences.  I think the part that causes me the most anxiety is hoping that I will be a capable “captain” of the interview, making sure to touch upon the important subjects without dominating the conversation. From listening to the experiences of my classmates, I know it will be a good idea to over-prepare for the interview by waking up way before the scheduled time in order to get my thoughts together and arrive early at the agreed meeting place. I also know it is advisable to spend some time familiarizing myself with the questions beforehand so as to make my facilitation smoother. I will be sure to take Yow’s advice to be as patient, transparent, and accommodating as possible and hope that this sets my narrator at ease.  What I can’t do is take away any of the pain, anger or sadness that the veteran I interview may associate with his Vietnam experience. I cannot diminish the trauma he has been through, but only hope that he will gain something positive by telling his story.

More reflections on Recording Oral History

1) In this section, Valeria Yow strongly urges the interviewer to be honest and straightfoward in all their interactions with narrators. She stresses that it is important to be patient and willing to explain the project and its motivations as often as necessary. Making your objective clear as well as recording and using the narrators words in a truthful way so as to not misrepresent them is pivotal to the legitimacy and success of the project.  This notion struck a chord with me as an oral historian in training hoping to use in-depth interviews about delicate subject matter to write my thesis project.

2) Another important piece of advice that came up during this section of reading was about taking yourself (the interviewer) out of the story-telling/interview process as much as possible so as to allow it to unfold as genuinely as possible. Yow recommended not responding to what the narrator says with too many comments or “uh-huh’s” but rather with subtle nods to show you are listening and that they should continue.  This is really important advice because although you want to strive to make your narrator feel comfortable and establish a rapport between yourselves, you don’t want to color the story too much with your own opinions or thoughts so as to overshadow the one the narrator has to tell. I will try my best to keep this in mind while I conduct my thesis research because although I have a very specific vision of themes I am looking to cover and criticism I am looking to make, I must allow space for the narrators to shape the argument as well.

The Darkness of War

1) In his poem, “The Darkness of War” Juan Carlos Heredia claims that it is not in the “yelling,” “smoke,” “charred flesh,” and “uncontrollable devastation” that his hell as a vietnam veteran exists, but rather in continuing to live after it is over with extreme guilt, sadness, and confusion. This sentiment seems to ring true for many of the veterans who gave their testimony for this book.  They are greatly weighed down by their struggle to reckon with the intense and inexplicable ruination of Vietnam, which blurred the lines of their morality and  their definitions of humanity. One man describes the small treats he  gave to a young Vietnamese girl whose village and family had been devastated. He characterizes his frustration as “my inability to meet a goal that I thought would make more humane, more human” (156). This excerpt demonstrates the veteran struggle to understand their role in the atrocity of vietnam and to somehow recapture a sense of humanity or innocence, which they felt they had lost somewhere along the way. Heredia goes on to say that veterans with survivor’s guilt “exist in the silence/hollowed within/numbed by it,” meaning that they are psychologically and emotionally imprisoned by their trauma and feel they have no voice or agency with which to articulate or address it.

2) The theme of darkness was also applied throughout many of the testimonies to the feeling of not knowing; of having countless unanswered questions and the resulting sense of fear and powerlessness this created.  Several veterans described long pitch black nights of ambush, in which they could not see but only wait to hear the sound of gun fire and explosions, unsure of whether they would be killed in the next moment. This suspension in a perceived state of smallness amidst large harsh and perplexing forces becomes a defining element of the Vietnam experience. One veteran described this perpetual darkness as having “no sense of the future anymore. There’s no way for you to structure it, because death is just something you’re resigned to now” (155). This quote demonstrates the way that many veterans are trapped by the trauma of war and do not know how to reconcile this with their civilian life upon returning to their homes in the United States. They have trouble envisioning and pursuing a life that exists separate from the jungle setting of intense suffering and loss. Because of this, they retreat into drug abuse or violence, which help them to hide from the pain.

Vietnam Veteranos: An old story told in a brand new way

1) Oh, the government bureaucracy! A pattern that emerged from this collection of oral histories was a seemingly enormous disconnect between the army recruits/soldiers themselves and the government/nation orchestrating the war. Often these veterans asked themselves; ‘what the hell am I doing here?’ especially when confronting a particularly harsh reality of war. In the section that detailed the complicated process of applying for Conscientious Objector Status, the reader got a clear look at how the government looked to intimidate new soldiers with red tape, extraneous processes, and intimidation so as to prevent them from questioning the army’s operation as much as possible. There was also discussion of the ways in which the government sought to project images and ideas about the atmosphere of Vietnam that differed so drastically from the the truth. Motivations of family honor, duty to one’s country, heroism, etc dissolved in the unforgiving and at-times illogical environment of war in the jungle. This coupled by the lack of support offered to those returning to “normality” reveals the startling gap between glorified propaganda and true purpose.

2) The haughtiness of hippies. My generation is constantly accused of being a bunch of apathetic lazy bums in comparison to our parents’ generation of devoted activists. “Just look at the vietnam war protests,” they tell us, “now there was a group of young people standing up for what was right.” I may disagree and commiserate with my friends and peers about this time-worn argument, but some of it has certainly still seeped under my skin and forced me to question whether we are somehow less righteous. The articles and accounts we have read or watched so far in this class have completely turned that concept on its head. Suddenly I have a much more complex picture of right vs. wrong in the context of the Vietnam War. When reading about activists who spat on, threw tomatoes at, and verbally abused veterans coming home from intense trauma I find myself wanting to shake them and shout “Don’t you understand how simplistically you are viewing this issue? These people have witnessed something so earth shattering that no one can erase. Ask yourself how they ended up there in the first place. Question not only this war, but how our country wages war in the first place.” This was one of the things that struck me most about Vietnam Veteranos. Many of the vets were deeply engaged in trying to understand the multiple feelings they had regarding the war and the overlapping civil rights movement while being offered virtually no support by the society they re-entered. Their stories revealed the challenges and lack of resources of working class people of color in a tyrannical system with no regard for their individualities or backgrounds. Many felt used or duped by the government having realized that corporate interests far overshadowed a moral/political interest in affecting change in Vietnam. Flower power just doesn’t seem to address the extent of these problems.