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Opinion: All This Holiday Cheer Reminds Me of My Dead Buddies Back in ‘Nam

Sad Vietnam vet A Guest Editorial by Bruce Rogers, Vietnam War Purple Heart Recipient

Rogers taking comfort with a bronze statue

When I was a kid, man, I loved the holidays. They were the best time of year around my house, and I used to wake up at 5 a.m. on Christmas morning, tear down those steps, and wait patiently for my brothers and sisters to shuffle down with our parents so we could tear open our presents from Santa.

But my childhood was stolen from me by an evil succubus whore named Vietnam, and now the holidays only remind me of my dead buddies, blasted to smithereens in the hellish rice patties of Southeast Asia.

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, “Bruce, Vietnam was over and done with over thirty years ago, can’t you just let it go and have some eggnog with the wife and grandkids?”

The answer is a resounding no, you commie fuck-head. Ever wake up to the sound of artillery fire on the day your Savior was born, and then celebrate that day by eating cold Spam and locusts? Didn’t think so. I bet your ass went to Yale on daddy’s dollar and now wants us to bring our troops home from this noble campaign we got over there in the sand dunes of Mortaritaville, right when the tide is about to turn on those towel-wearing scat-munchers.

Sometimes we would fry up the holiday Spam, when we could find a cheap-ass stove, or when we were shacking up with some diseased, slanty-eyed hooker in Saigon. Yeah. Some fucking holiday.

But I digress.

The holidays are a horrible time for any veteran. All we want to do is reflect and tell the story of our M-16 jamming right during the Tet Offensive for the 739th time, but even our relatives from out of town are more concerned with their new socks, Japanese electronics, and Britney-fucking-Spears.

So this year, when you’re trying on those new flannel pajamas, remember ol’ Bruce here. I shot countless women and children from long range so you could enjoy this goddamn holiday, and the least you could do is honor my dead buddies by lighting a candle. Or buying me a beer. After all, we deserve as much.

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