Readers Remember

On the night of Jan. 31, 1968, I was stationed in a military high-rise in downtown Saigon. Shortly before midnight I was jerked awake by the sound of a fierce firefight erupting three stories below. I dove under the bed for cover. Then I heard children laughing. Crawling on my belly out onto the balcony, I peered over the edge. The street was filled with hundreds of people hurling firecrackers, noisily celebrating the new year. In the morning I kicked my way to work through piles of lilac paper, laughing at my fear.

The next evening I slept a deep sleep, awakening at 7 a.m. to something unutterably strange. The normal tumult of the Saigon morning had been replaced by silence. I rushed to the balcony. Our street was completely deserted. Looking up from the guard post below, an MP screamed, “Get your flak jacket on, troop, we’re under siege!”

Angry columns of thick black smoke roiled the horizon. I had slept like a baby through the murderous chaos of the launching of the Tet Offensive.

Staff Sgt. Roger Steffens, U.S. Army Retired

Echo Park

*

It was a Sunday afternoon in 1938. I was home with my younger brother, George, and my father, listening to music on the radio. I was 14. My mother and older brother, Stan, had gone to the local movie.

Suddenly there was a news flash that we were being invaded by Martians! An announcer said people were fleeing their homes. My father said maybe we should get Mom and Stan home so we can all be together. George started to whimper. Then at the half hour station break, I realized it was just a story. It was “The War of the Worlds” and we laughed to think how gullible we were!

GLORIA S. LUBLINER

La Mirada