Dry Rain (A Quick Story on Vietnam)

("It never rains on the Army," 1971-1984 )"Papa," the tiny ten-year old boy said, "what was conflict like after all of the folks in America started hating the GI's for likely to Vietnam throughout the 60s and 70s?"The father didn't answer right away. He lay at the kitchen table, moved his coffee cup so it was not in the way, and his child was fully apparent to him, his military dress vegetables in the wardrobe, set aside forever."One time I was in San Francisco Bay Area, performing as a designer, doing quite well, back in 1971, not a father yet, you may already know, but thinking of becoming one someday, as was a few of my friends, all of us inside our early twenties. Then three-months later, I was training to kill people over in South East Asia, taking some military lively duty classes, and I really didn't know yet what was what-that was when they had the draft, in '69. They often told us in the Army, 'Keep going, it never rains on the Army, should you feel damp, it is an illusion...!"The child didn't answer the father. The sit down elsewhere sat still on the table and didn't shake while they both moved their arms and forearms often about on the table some, viewed each other. He pulled out his wallet; there was a blurry old picture inside, now thirteen-years old. The cold two faces on the image were of two attractive and fresh and water soaked soldiers. And he knew-as he showed the picture to his boy-the other face which he had not seen for a, extremely long time, and would never see face-to-face again, and actually did not want to see on the photograph, the face he'd once seen everyday in war, only a little older face than his, and neither his nor the other soldier's face were triumphal while they were supposed to have appeared, had been blotted out forever on the face of the earth; one of the several destructions of the war, of individual anguish and spilt blood."The boy said, "You both look tired!""What son?" the father said. "What did you say?""Tired father, you seem therefore tired...!" repeated the boy."When we came upon the rice fields, we couldn't see very well before us, the rain was so heavy, coming down like nissan livina 1.6 acenta and dogs, the total area was soaked with rain beneath us, above us, all around us-it was a hard roaring, never silent severe rain, it rinsed everything, presented us in postponement, everything was shadows, we were planning to withdraw, and the Vietcong rushed upward in soundless inflexibility of the rain, and the sergeant in the picture tumbled backwards and was looking up in to the sky as if he'd still glass eyes.""I believed it didn't rain on the Army, pa?" said the tiny boy."Is that what I said?" Responded the father.No: 565 (1-11-2009) oo