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Obscured American: Vern the Vietnam Vet

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Linh Dinh
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They drafted a lot of African Americans from Philadelphia. You had to fill out all of these crazy papers and whatnot. They examined you and so forth. So yes, you're inducted! Ha ha!

It was a shock because I didn't know what it meant to have that happen to you.

At that time we were still involved in the Korean conflict, and there were other world conflicts, so it was very difficult to understand the significance of what I was being caught up in.

I needed to get a letter of deferment, so I got a letter to say that I had already been accepted at Penn State, but the draft board said, No, no! You got your draft notice. You're in!

I missed it by a month, but I don't regret it. It was a lesson. I had never been exposed to discrimination, so I didn't know what it was. We needed jungle training, so they sent us to Fort Polk, Louisiana, and it was an experience I would really like to forget, because Fort Polk, Louisiana was one of the dirtiest, most ignorant places I've ever experienced.

There was a town not far away called Leesville, Louisiana, and I remember taking a bus into town, and there was a guy named Vernon Castle. He was a businessman and he owned everything in town, the motion picture theater, the grocery store, his name was everywhere, and that was the first time ever in my life I saw "WHITE," and then an arrow pointing, with "COLOURED." I thought, Kiss my ass, you all can stick this town up your ass. I got back on the bus and never went back into town. I was thinking, I'm going to fight for fuckin' America and you bastards want to talk this sh*t?!

I never went back into town, never spent another dollar in Louisiana. That night, they gave us our orders on where we would be transferred, Korea or Vietnam. I got my orders. It was around Christmas time. Mine said Vietnam.

We were flown to Oakland, California, then Braniff Airlines flew us over. Coming into Saigon at night, I remember the fox holes, and the bunkers with the gunners, along the runway, protecting the aircraft. I was assigned to the 25th Infantry Division, 3rd Brigade, in Pleiku.

The 3rd Brigade had already established a base camp in Pleiku. It was called t*tty Mountain.

Later a general came and said to us, "You can't call this t*tty Mountain. From now on, we're going to call it Dragon Mountain!" He didn't want to say that over the radio. He was a p*ssy.

I was assigned to intelligence. My responsibility was to draw maps and overlays so people in the field understand where they are and where they need to go and whatnot.

I had a radio there, which was unusual, ha ha! It was for my own personal use. I listened to whatever they had in Vietnam. It wasn't music. I listened to" what was her name? Hanoi? Hanoi? Yes, Hanoi Hanah!

My name is Vernon, and my last name is Cothran, so I put VC on my helmet. Everybody else had their initials on their helmets. Colonel Shanahan came down and said, "Take that helmet off! You can't have VC on your helmet!"

There was a cook that got mad at the Colonel and cussed him out, so the old man told his staff, I want that guy to be sent to the front line, immediately. He was talking all that crap, so the old man went, "No, uh uh. Off you go!"

The first thing you learn is to keep your mouth shut, but the cook was drunk. I don't know what happened to him. I never saw him again.

Being in Vietnam, I thought about my father and my mother, because I'm here, they're there. If something happens to me, who's going to take care of them?

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Linh Dinh's Postcards from the End of America has just been published by Seven Stories Press. Tracking our deteriorating socialscape, he maintains a photo blog.


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