Welcome Home Moments

The GOOD The BAD The NOT

By Ken DeHaas

2/1 H&S 70-71

Late March of 1971

On my way back to the world. All too soon I’d be the fuc*ing new guy once again. Transported from Okinawa to Travis AFB, California by way of a rickety airplane courtesy of Flying Tiger Airlines. Seeing as I had a window seat, was ceaselessly gazing out the window with my newly acquired 1000 yard stare. What a far out spectacle assaulted my homeward bound eyes! Beaucoup birds, of all species, in a horizontal formation with their beaks fanatically fastened to the backside of the wing. Hundreds of wings flapping in a frenzied mission. Obviously our feathered allies were all too aware of the decrepit structural integrity of our ride home and were doing their best to help us brothers get “HOME”. Thanks for your good intentions. Mind your own business next time.

Made it safely to Travis Air Force Base

After beaucoup red tape I found myself on board a much more dependable commercial airliner. The final leg of my triumphant return was in play. Got a seat with a porthole once again. But I was feeling way too contemplative and retrospective to care much about the world outside my head and the snarled thoughts inside. Not to mention the rapidly intensifying tempest in my gut, that was sure to be a raging typhoon by the time I set down in New York. This homecoming scenario was played out in my mind countless times. I faithfully kept my short timers calendar up to date like a good little Marine grunt. Longed for my family, friends and the places I used to know with a fervor that seemed somehow unnatural. Now, just a few hours from the world, and all that I could think of was how deeply I missed my family back in the Nam.

As I got closer and closer to my home my heart began to race in extreme apprehension. My thoughts began to ricochet off the walls of my skull like the balls in a pinball machine gone amok. In an effort to restore a semblance of tranquility to my churning spirit I took out a clear cellophane bag from the back pocket of the seat in front of me. Inside was a pair of blue plastic disposable headphones. I’m thinking, what the hell some righteous sounds might help. So I plugged them in and sat back awaiting the 1^st track. Oh Yeah! “Spinning Wheel” by Blood, Sweat and Tears. Music to match my mood.

Maybe 15 to 20 minutes before touchdown our pilot’s voice came across the cabin speaker with the announcement that, due to unfavorable weather conditions, we would be unable to land at Elmira / Corning Regional Airport. Seeing as my hometown is Elmira, N.Y. this was not the best news. He informed us that we would be landing in Williamsport, PA instead, which is 94 miles from Elmira. I assumed that my mom would be waiting for me at the Elmira Airport.

About 3 weeks before I left Nam I sent her a letter with the good news that her oldest son was on his way home from the war. The portable stairs were wheeled up to the plane’s exit hatch and locked in place. As I tentatively descended the steps, an icy wind driven drizzle escorted me. I was wearing my winter green uniform complete with overcoat. And yet I was so very, very cold. Colder than I ever remember being. As my newly spit shined shoes hit the stateside deck, that bizarre sensation of déjà vu enveloped me.

The experience of setting boot in Danang many months ago and setting shoe in Pennsylvania many months later was eerily close to being same, same. Anyway, made my way across the slick tarmac to a phone booth. I figured I’d call the house just in case mom hadn’t left yet. Much to my surprise she answered the phone. Before I could utter a word, she asked how I was managing to call her from Vietnam. I called her months before by way of MARS, (Military Affiliate Radio Systems). At the end of every sentence the speaker had to say “over”. So she was perplexed by this normal phone call from the other side of the world. What the hell was going on? I replied by declaring that I wasn’t in Nam. I was home.

This turned into a really odd conversation, the bottom line being she never got my letter. As far as my mom knew I was still humping a radio in the jungle. Towards the end of our conversation I noticed an old man in a trench coat and fedora patiently standing outside the phone booth in the rain. He looked to be 70 years old. Every few seconds I’d see him peer my way through wire rim glasses. Decided to end my call so that poor old fella could get out of the chilly drizzle and make his call. I opened the glass door with “sorry I took so long” poised on my lips. He greeted me with a question. “Are you just coming home from Vietnam?” I was a little wary about answering his inquiry. After all, had heard and read more than my fair share of Nam Vet welcome home incidents.

After a brief pause I responded to his inquiry with a hearty “Yes Sir”. At that, he offered his hand to me and as we firmly clasped hands I instinctively knew that he was a warrior from a past time. Through rain spattered glasses we held each others eyes. Then he said to me “I just wanted to say thank you son”. I replied with “Thank you sir. You’re very welcome”. Not ashamed to say that there was some mist in my eyes, and it sure wasn’t rain related. One more heart felt hand clasp and then we parted ways. He to his car. Me to the airport terminal. Till my last breath I’ll never, ever forget that old warrior and his poignant Welcome home.

Had me a burger, fries and a coke. Now I’m just pacing, waiting for my mom. Seemed an eternity, but at long last there she was. I met her just shy of the terminal door. We hugged, did the kiss on the cheek deal. Nice to see you Kenny. Nice to see you mom. A few steps behind her was Howard, her current boyfriend. We shook hands, that was all. We stuffed my sea bag into the trunk of the car and headed out to good ole Elmira, my former stomping grounds. Then, out of the blue my mom asks “You didn’t do drugs over there, did you?” I was totally caught off guard. We had barely said hello.

How about “How are you doing Kenny?” Or “Did you get shot at?” Or “Did many of your friends and brothers get wounded or killed?” In a heart beat I responded with “Hell yes I did drugs”. “And I’ll be doing more”. She was appalled at this reply. But what the hell. I did my tour of duty with a 4.8 pro / conduct rating. In all fairness to my mom, us Vietnam vets were portrayed by the media as doped up baby killers. So not true! I love you mom. Now you know the truth.