I enlisted in the Marine

Corps on a Tuesday afternoon, Feb. 10, 1970. Two days

later, I left for boot camp and arrived at Parris Island,

S. C., on Friday the 13th. The Vietnam War was raging and

my next-door neighbor, a kid named Lonnie, had already

become an Army Ranger and had been shot to pieces. He

survived but recovery would be slow. Jimmy, a soldier,

and Joe, a Marine, would not be so fortunate. These

friends from high school would be dead at 19 and their

names inscribed on The Wall.

I hated the idea of war.

One of my favorite songs of the era said in its lyrics,

"War! What is it good for? Absolutely nothing! Say

it again!" But it was my duty to serve and, if I

were sent to Vietnam, I would go. My father was a World

War II veteran of the United States Navy and he made no

secret about what he thought of those who fled to Canada

to avoid the draft. So, if I had to go, I reasoned, I

wanted to go with the best, and, in my mind, that meant

the Marines.

The funny thing about it is

that I spent all my active duty time in the United

States. I was stationed at Parris Island, Camp LeJeune,

N. C., Fort Lee, Va., and Quantico, Va. After that, I

went home. The war was still going on, and would be until

about 1975. Somehow, I missed it all. The closest I got

to action was being assigned to the Riot Control

Battalion near Washington, D. C. and having to guard a

nuclear ammunition storage depot. Not that I complained

about it. I felt extremely fortunate to have missed

Vietnam.

The problems came later.

Over the years, I began to feel guilt at not having gone

to Southeast Asia. I began to think that, somehow, I had

shirked my duty. Perhaps, I should have volunteered. As

Viet vets came to me for counsel over

post-traumatic-stress-related issues, my guilt

intensified. I was proud to be a Marine but ashamed at

never having been in combat. I even joined Vietnam

Veterans of America, which permitted Vietnam-era veterans

to join, even if they hadn't been to Vietnam, but later

let my membership expire.

A few years ago, I

journeyed to The Wall to read the names of people who had

died in Vietnam. Strangely, I began to feel as though my

name should have been on the Wall. More guilt. More

shame.

Then the Gulf War came. We

organized prayer services for our military, wrote to men

and women in the Persian Gulf, and prayed for peace and

safety. When the war was over and the soldiers came home,

we participated in the joy and even honored two of the

men who had served on a Sunday morning. I felt even more

guilt about not being in the war.

A few years ago, I was

taking a police instructor's certification course at the

police academy. One of my classmates was a retired

sergeant major who had served two tours in Vietnam. Every

time I was with him, I felt as though I had let him down.

Finally, near the end of the two-week course, I privately

shared my thoughts with him about these matters. I

apologized to him for having let him down and expressed

my sorrow for not having served my country. He looked at

me for a long moment, put his hand on my shoulder, stared

at me intensely and finally said, "That's the

stupidest thing I've ever heard in my life!"

I was startled by his

response. He continued, "When you tell me that

story, I think of a terrible car wreck down the street at

the intersection. Cars are wrecked and burning, people

are trapped inside the flaming vehicles, body parts are

strewn about, and the shrieks and moans of the dying fill

the air. Blood is all over everything and the smell of

death fills the nostrils. Then I imagine you coming upon

that scene and saying, `Gee, I sure wish I'd been in that

car wreck!' That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard in

my life."

He looked at me for a long

moment and then his face softened. "Dave, I spent

two tours in Vietnam. The first tour wasn't too bad but

when I went back for the second, it was a disaster. The

politicians betrayed us, men died needlessly, and we lost

a winnable war. You need to understand this: Vietnam was

a car wreck."

He assured me that, because

I had enlisted and was willing to go, that I had no

reason to be ashamed. "No one who was there will

hold it against you," he said. "I appreciate

your willingness and availability. Just be grateful you

were spared. You ought to thank God," said the

sergeant major.

The truth is, I wish nobody

ever had to go. I have a son in the military and I pray

he never has to go. To all the veterans of all the wars

who had to go, "Thank you." To all those who

served and did their duty, but never had to go, well,

"Thank you, too." May God grant that our sons

and daughters never find themselves in the flaming,

horrible car wreck that is war. May they never feel guilt

for being alive.

"War! What is it good

for? Absolutely nothing!"

[Father David Epps is

rector of Christ the King Charismatic Episcopal Church.

He may be contacted at [email protected] or at P. O. Box 2192, Peachtree

City, GA 30269.]333