Updated: Jun 28, 2019
Phu Cat 06-18-69 Re-Visited
I had gone to the ball-park to exercise. I can manage one trip around this half mile circle. Ladies softball was in full swing and had most parking spaces taken. I finally pulled to a stop and just like that the sky opened up and rain by the buckets ended women softball for the day.
But lately I've been enjoying all the rain, the storms, the winds and lightning, all of it brings pure joy. The air is energized and the trees are happy. I know it's a result of pulling duty during monsoon season in Vietnam. I was already accustomed to heavy rains, from living in Florida, and I've survived Hurricanes. I got married in a Hurricane up in Pennsylvania in 1972. I love the rainy nights.
This rain was falling in long sheets, driven by fierce winds. People were running for shelter, which meant their cars for the most part. I was fascinated by the noise and rhythm, as large drops pounded the roof of the cab and I watched as strong winds moved rain about the parking lot at thirty to forty miles per hour, I hadn't seen such a downpour since Vietnam, and I couldn't see a thing and the truck shook from the gale-like winds. I disappeared in the cab of my truck.
You, reader need to know, I started writing this blog entry three days ago. Five days now?! Not and easy subject for me!
Now, for the rest of the story.
I experienced a first ever flash-back, in that rain storm and I was suddenly back at Phu Cat walking a dog in unimaginable rain, really, I was back walking post in Vietnam. As I set on my bucket, with torrential rains gushing every where, I became focused, and just like that, the rain stopped. On top of the clouds set a full-blown, full moon revealing a brand new, full moon. That's when I saw me and Virginia in bed. In that flash of a second or two, it hit me hard the high price Agent Orange has suffered our marriage.
I'm also, back in my truck now, and not a soul is left in the ballpark, just me and the rain. The micro-flashback left me with a picture I will try and explain to you, I call it, 'love denied'! It took three days off, not writing, just thinking, but a lot of thinking!
This is what I come up with;
I can't hold my wife's hand without razor sharp spikes (fire ants) starting the process of pain release until my hands hurts so much that I have to pull away from her. Same for most parts of my body. I sleep with a pillow between legs, to keep chin bones from touching. This is ten years later. Their has been no love making, Agent Orange took that away also. Sometimes the pain from touching doesn't materialize for days or weeks at a time. You start feeling (sort-of) good for a change. But, as soon as I rollover and wrap my arm over her, invariable, I can feel the pain returning. I compare the nerve damage cause by Agent Orange to fire-ants. Ten years later, I can bump a leg and just under the skin I can feel the heat rising, waiting, ever-ready to eat flesh.
I call Vietnam Veterans, "the walking dead"!
I am so glad to be able to tell this story. It has to be told and retold. A true story about betrayal. A country in denial. Citizens who turn their backs to a Holocaust right before there eyes. How do you not see our deaths as more than a tragedy. The disgrace of America is deafening. Pathetic. True!
Do not forget Noble Bride, be your warrior/Husbands voice. Speak up, find your voice. Don't quit. Find your voice!!?
As I set in the truck I was totally engulfed in a deluge of water and I begin to cry buckets as the realization hit me about my little 'tell-all' of 'love denied', to my wife. With 2 million dead warriors, most had wives. And all these wives have suffered and done without for so long, that they don't remember what love making was like. When pain stands between you and the pleasures of touching, not love making but, just to be able to return the feelings of being able to hold your loved one. Agent Orange took that.
Agent Orange has reared its ugly head and a third generation is being infected. These are life threatening events and its all a big secret. My hope is these woman, all Agent Orange survivors, join together and tell their stories until this country admits genocide. Until this country is so ashamed of the big-fake, the big-lie, fed up with murder of the Warrior Class, this is no way for a government to treat its citizens. America must learn something from this genocide. It can happen to you, also. The 1%'s eats the very flesh of its own, laughing all the way to the bank!
I'll close this blog by asking the 'Brides of Warriors' to write their stories. How lives are forever turned up-side-down as they are witnesses to the brutality and misery of another Agent Orange murder. If you please and want to share your story with me, all I ask is a brief summation of the facts. and I'll get back to you, Send Too: Jimmie Moore, P.O. Box 55055, Jacksonville, FL. 32216.
WRITE FINDYOURVOICE WRITE FINDYOURVOICE WRITE FIND YOUR VOICE WRITE