I exist because of the Vietnam War. My dad was a doctor in residency, and my mom was a nurse. They were dating when he was drafted. He had two weeks to report to duty. They were quickly married and moved in together in Fort Benning, GA, for basic training. She wanted to be pregnant before he left in case he didn’t make it back.
He arrived in Danang in 1966 in an amphibious landing. Along with the other foreign doctors, he drew straws and, drawing the shortest straw, ended up near the Cambodian border for the first couple of months in an encampment on a rubber plantation. He and one other doctor were the medical team for a group of Green Berets who would go on search and destroy missions every day. Local Montagnards would bring fresh bread in the mornings. In the afternoons, the helicopters would return with the wounded, and he would do his best to patch them up.
Later, he was transferred to a big field hospital in Ben Hoa, which served Americans, Koreans, Australians, South Vietnamese, and POWs.
These are the pictures my dad was sending home to my mom, who was living with his family in Mexico. They hide the daily assault of sick and injured that he treated.
I was born while my dad was still serving. He first met me a few months after my birth. My mom sent him my umbilical cord. It is buried somewhere near Long Binh.
I’m still uncovering images and hope to post more as I find them.
