Brken Promises Again

Happy Birthday

Today is my birthday. I don’ normally celebrate my birthday, and today is no exception. I might make an exception next year. There are a few birthday, however, I remember very well. I cherish the memory of the birthday when my sisters from Missouri came to visit, and I will never forget God sending me a total eclipse for a birthday present a few years ago. The one I remember the best, however, was my 28th when I was flying special operations in Viet Nam. We had flown a pretty hairy mission, and I went back to my hootch knowing I wouldn’t relax for a while. Weaver, one of our young crew members, met me as I came out of the shower. He was 18 going on forty, and had a big smile on his face while carrying a fifth of whiskey. He said, ‘No one should spend their birthday alone.” We drank the bottle, slept it off, and went back to work.

Our first priority mission was to support the Special Forces Camps. They were scattered up in the mountains and were sanctuaries where tribesmen could be protected against insurgents. A couple years after my birthday, we began pulling out of Viet Nam. Our politicians had convinced our nation that the war was unwinnable, and undermined the national resolve to continue. The first casualties were the mountain tribes. As we closed down the Special Forces Camps, the North Vietnamese would move in and eradicate the entire tribe. The only individuals to survive were those who scattered and hid out in the jungle.

As we continued to withdraw, the same thing happened to rest of the country. I was stationed at Phu Cat air base. When we left, the base was occupied by North Vietnamese troops. All those who had dealings with the Americans were punished; many were killed. I wonder what happened to the woman who cleaned our hooch. Did she survive. I recall she had a young child. What happed to him or to her family.

The pictures of the last days as we pulled out of Saigon are iconic. The panic of those who we had promised to protect is well documented. The old news coverage shows them hanging on to trucks and even grabbing the skids of helicopters as they took off and left our friends to their fate. As I watched the new coverage, I was ashamed. I thought our country was equally ashamed and would never let it happed again. But I was wrong.

It doesn’t matter to me who is at fault. It doesn’t matter that President Biden miscalculated, and the Taliban takeover was much more rapid than he expected. What does mater is that, once again, we have abandoned our allies. We promised they would be protected. It doesn’t matter whether it was Trump, Obama, or Bush who made the promise. We, the United States of America, promised to protect them, and I am ashamed for our nation.

Frank Watson is a retired Air Force Colonel and long-time resident of Eastern Washington. He has been a free-lance columnist for over 20 years.