Well, everyone is talking about Vietnam and, as if you would be interested,

let me share my Vietnam story. It's a story of some joy and deep

regret.

I was a draftee. Not too many 22-year-olds were dying to get into the

Army, much less go to Vietnam. I sorta', kinda' evaded the

draft for a year by changing draft boards, first working in Birmingham

and then working in Columbus, Georgia. Finally, however, Uncle Sam cornered

me in Columbus and put me on a bus to Fort Jackson, South Carolina.

After basic training on Tank Hill at Fort Jackson, I was assigned to

Fort Bliss, Texas as an information specialist (since I had experience

as a journalist). Well, I didn't want to go to Fort Bliss, especially

since a wonderful military installation was located in my home town of

Columbus. With a two week leave after basic, I went home determined to

use one of my many contacts to get diverted to Fort Benning so I could

live with Mama. Fort Bliss was not where I wanted to go.

As I was waiting to meet with one of Columbus' bank presidents,

his secretary, Mary Futch, asked me, "Have you thought about calling

Colonel Hatcher?" Well, I had not thought of calling him even though

we carried the same last name, although not related to our knowledge.

He and I had worked together at a distance in Columbus governmental affairs.

He was deputy post commander and post liaison to Columbus city government

and I was a staff reporter for the local newspaper.

Well, upon Mary's suggestion, I picked up the phone and called

Col. Hatcher. Naturally, being John Hatcher, I was put through to him

immediately. I asked him the favor of being diverted from Fort Bliss

to Fort Benning. He said if his installation had need of my Mode of Service

(MOS), there was a good chance of getting diverted.

Long story short: I was diverted the very next day and assigned to the

Allied Student Training Division, a support company for foreign officers

in training at Fort Benning. I was assigned to write a monthly newspaper

featuring the various officers in training.

I had it made in the shade. I had an eight to five, five days a week

job. I only pulled KP twice, if my memory serves me well. I got off one

hour early every day for physical training. I actually learned to run

while in the Army.

The Vietnamese officers were some of the most precious and sensitive

of all. I remember Major Quang. Although skilled in infantry, he was

a loving Christian and loved to play the violin. On more than one occasion,

I invited him to our church to play the violin and afterwards to have

Sunday dinner with my mother and me. My Vietnam memories are limited

to joyful friendships that ended after nine months. Major Quang was a

sweet, precious man and I wanted to believe all Vietnamese people were

just like him.

(Drum roll) One fateful day I got orders to go to Vietnam. It was an

MOS levy. They wanted a writer at the war front. I did not want to go.

My company did not want me to go. They submitted an impact statement

pleading the case that I was more needed in the Army's information

program at Fort Benning than I would be needed in Vietnam.

(Drum roll) A couple weeks later, I was visiting my pastor and wife.

A call came from Mama. She had just received the word that I had been

taken off the levy and would remain at Fort Benning.

Happy? You better believe I was happy. I served out my time at Fort

Benning living at home with Mama, eight to five.

However, 32 years later, I carry some deep regrets. Perhaps I should

have taken the assignment to Fort Bliss. It certainly would have enlarged

my world. And undoubtedly, I regret the successful efforts to get out

of going to Vietnam. I missed a part of American history. I missed serving

my country where the action was.

So, I suppose I could never run for office since all these strings were

pulled for me. But today I wish no one had pulled any strings. I wish

I had taken what had been dealt me straight up. On this side of my Vietnam

memories I lay claim to Romans 8:28 - "We know that God causes

all things to work together for good, to those who love him and are called

according to his purpose."

Our lives could run every day on the fuel of regret if we would allow

such. What's best is to be a child of God and live for him. He then

takes all our regrets, mistakes, and failures and wondrously brings something

good out of them.

That's my Vietnam story.

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