My Friend Died for Bill Clinton : Vietnam: Who can forget the abuse heaped on men who fought by men who ducked?

A friend of mine died for Bill Clinton.

Twenty-four years ago, Gerny was killed in Vietnam. A blond, towheaded Marine, he was stationed with ground troops deep in the mountains not far from Khe Sahn. On his five-day R & R to Hawaii he married his girl; a few weeks later he was dead. He was walking point the day he died. He caught a round in the throat and when I first crawled to his side there wasn’t much blood. He was laying on his back, mouth open, eyes open, with only something white hanging from where part of his neck used to be.

Our squad was pinned down that day and through the night, taking fire and throwing rounds into the jungle, firing back at an enemy we couldn’t see. Gerny, meanwhile, lay quietly. When morning came, I helped carry him up the mountain. Hours later, we blew down some trees to make a landing zone. A chopper came and lifted him away.

I loved the friend I briefly knew. I thought of him each fall throughout the years. I thought of him during the anti-war demonstrations when veterans were hated and through the Persian Gulf when they were loved. I thought of him at night sitting in my reading chair or whenever I walked alone through a park. I thought of his face and how he saved me. One night when it was dangerous, I fell asleep on guard duty. He woke me and never told the other guys what I had done. That’s why when he died, I felt I had to carry him.

Now the hard part. This is the kind of thinking most folks won’t do. See, Gerny died for us all. Only when Gerny died not many cared. Back then, the protesters often shamed him or blamed him. Years later, we built a wall full of names that makes people cry and nobody understands exactly why.

Maybe it’s more complicated than that, but I won’t vote for a man who was a part of shaming Gerny. I won’t vote for a man who tricked his way out of carrying him and won’t cry for him or say he’s sorry Gerny died. And I won’t vote for a man who doesn’t show respect, remorse or appreciation that Gerny took a bullet in the throat one day.

He died for us. Gerny did.

That’s the way I see it. Semper Fi, Gerny.