The Vietnam War lasted from November 1, 1955, to April 30, 1975. Today, many Americans are not aware of the sacrifices made by the millions of US troops during that war. In May of 2012, President Barack Obama announced March 29, as Vietnam Veterans Day.

The intention of this day is to recognize the efforts of nearly 9 million U.S. soldiers – men and women alike - for their acts of valor. Furthermore, in 2017, President Trump signed the Vietnam War Veterans Recognition Act which formally recognizes the Vietnam veterans under US law and formally adds March 29th to the list of days when the American flag should be flown.

The Anonymous Soldier

I’m 90 years old now, with none of the energy in my limbs that I had before. Old age is strange; you have plenty of free time, but you know it’s running out. I can’t help but think back to the time when I was 30–strong and resolute. That was also the time I had the misfortune of fighting in the Vietnam War.

Of all my life experiences, ‘Nam taught me the most about life and how to live. I lost many friends in the time I spent in the Vietnamese jungles, and I don’t think I’ve recovered from the experience.

American troops were herded off to Vietnam in the 60s to fight a war for reasons that didn’t matter to us. Some days there would be no fighting. Other days there was hardly a person left alive. We’d wait in ditches for hours to avoid the enemy. There was really no telling when we’d be ambushed.

As Operation Rolling Thunder began, our days were punctuated with explosions, gun discharges, and death. Bodies fell around us as we crouched in trenches with tar on our faces. The American flag flashed on every uniform and flew high all around me yet; I longed for home. That is, until Pinkville.

The official name is My Lai Massacre. But we called it Pinkville—and I still remember how Pinkville ran red with blood.

Despite my efforts to forget the death and tragedy, I still remember one thing from that day: the American flag, grey and red from the ash and blood of fallen civilians. As I walked past it, it moved ever so slightly. I lifted it to reveal a little, perhaps four years old, Vietnamese boy. He was scared, clutching to the stars-and-stripes desperately. I tried to pull it from him, but he wouldn’t let go. And then I heard troops coming in our direction—and covered the boy with the flag again.

They ignored me, a lone soldier standing beside a fallen American flag, and went on with their order for the day. The symbolic significance of the life that the American flag had saved that day struck a chord. Freedom. Liberty. Equality. Justice for all. Standing up for the weak and the helpless—all that the American flag represented was plain and proper in front of me.

I did not rest until I had gotten the little boy to safety. I don’t know what happened to him afterward. If I went to Vietnam today, I wouldn’t know him. But I know that every June 14, when the flag is hoisted high, I look upon it and remember the greatest thing I’d ever done: save a life because that’s what this flag means to me. It means humanity.

In Conclusion

Even though the Vietnam War lasted too long and too many lives were lost because of it, there is no question about the bravery and the firm resolution of bringing peace in Vietnam all American soldiers harbored in their hearts. In regards to the tragedies that did happen during that battle and the war in general, it does not negate the good that American soldiers accomplished as shown in this story.

Thank you to all of our Vietnam veterans for your bravery and all your sacrifices!