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Freedom Bird

Coming home alone.

By Ken FendleyPublished 3 years ago 5 min read
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The skinny lieutenant

After nine months of combat command in Vietnam, I was called into the adjutant general’s office. The young man there said to me, “Lieutenant, you are overdue for a promotion to captain, so we have a choice to offer you. If you’ll extend six more months in country, we’ll promote you to captain ASAP, and give you your your own company to command.“

“You mentioned a choice.”

“Yes, sir. Your other option is to go home early - as soon as you can clear.”

I mulled over my choices for a nanosecond. “Goodbye,” was my reply.

I was packed and ready to leave by the next day, but I had an obligation to serve as company executive officer and pay officer for a couple of weeks before my date of return came around. The pay officer’s duty involved flying to wherever the various units were in Echo Company, and paying them promptly on payday. As a sudden “short-timer”, I was less than thrilled with the prospect of flying back out into the bush. But fly I did. Armed with a .45 caliber pistol and a briefcase full of funny money, and accompanied by an enlisted man as a bodyguard, I flew out to the fire base to take care of business. I had never before experienced a fear of flying, but this trip was terrifying. Like many short-timers, the closer the date to go home loomed, the more cautious I became. The only flight on my mind was the “Freedom Bird” back to the world. I was so short I could sit on a dime and dangle my feet. And, like other vets contemplating their rotation date, I counted down the days and marked them off on a calendar. “Ten days and a wake up.”, which translated to ten days of paranoia and apprehension, which passed like molasses in January.

Finally, the day arrived. I stood expectantly on the Tarmac, and watched the door of the “freedom bird” yawn open. As I climbed into the charter 707, I was overcome with feelings of ambivalence. I was relieved to be leaving this hell hole that was Vietnam. At the same time, I couldn’t shake the feeling of remorse, maybe even guilt, at the realization that I was abandoning my unit. I had already experienced this feeling before when I was ordered to leave my rifle platoon and assigned to command the heavy mortar platoon. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that if I didn’t leave now I might have come home in a flag draped box. During the Easter Offensive of 1972, the 196th Light Infantry Brigade sustained significant casualties. And I still ask myself, “Should I have stayed? Could I have made a difference? And what happened to those young men I left behind?”

Soon I settled into the 707, buckled up, and waited expectantly to be carried from the heat and turmoil that was Vietnam back to a home that I sometimes struggled to remember.

I don’t remember much of the flight home. I think I slept most of the way, except for looking out the window snapping a picture of Okinawa as we flew over. As with the trip over, we went back through Yakota, Japan; Anchorage, Alaska; and finally Ft. Lewis, Washington. After a few days of out processing at Ft. Lewis, the time arrived for the last two legs of my journey home.

Putting on my nicest uniform, thinking this was the last time I’d wear it, I prepared for the last of my trip back to the world. And soon it was wheels up again. But this time instead of flying over the Pacific, I was flying over home.

I deplaned in Chicago and made the arrangements for a military standby flight to Cincinnati. It would be several hours before the last leg of my journey; long hours that I spent sitting alone at O’Hare conscious of the stares and looks of distain of the passersby, an experience unique to us Vietnam vets. Unlike other wars, most Vietnam vets went over alone and came home alone. And there I sat, alone. There were no units marching through airports to the applause and adulation of grateful citizens - only a lonely vet eager to melt back into the world and resume life as he knew it the best he could.

Freedom Bird

My mother cried when I departed,

Bound for the Nam to serve Sam there.

So many gone since this war started.

She says for me a daily prayer.

I’m going home to see my mother.

She is a gem, a precious pearl.

Freedom Bird, please lift me skyward,

Back to my home, back to the world.

My Sara, baby, how I’ve missed you;

Your sunny smile, your golden hair.

I cannot wait to hug and kiss you.

I know you’re waiting for me there.

I’m going home to see my Sara.

She is my love, my only girl.

Freedom Bird, please lift me skyward,

Back to my home, back to the world.

I have two days and one more wake up

Until I board that chartered flight.

I’m leaving brothers, it’s like breakup.

Wish we could all go home tonight.

I’m headed back, I’ve done my time here.

This tour’s been one life-changing whirl.

Freedom Bird, oh won’t you take me

Back to my home, back to the world.

Five decades later I still wonder

What was our mission over there?

Why did we tear this land asunder?

The answer’s blowing in the air.

Was it in vain that we shed blood there?

Is there an answer to be found?

What do I know, I’m just a soldier

Who did his job, boots on the ground.

I daily pray for peace and freedom,

For every soul longs to be free.

If liberty is ever threatened

I’ll stand my ground, so stand with me.

This is my home, this is my country.

And freedom is our rally cry.

No tyranny will I submit to.

I will live free or I will die.

army
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About the Creator

Ken Fendley

My wife and I see things very differently. Take a stroll through our respective minds.

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