The War Against Moral Wounds of American Combat Soldiers ( part 1 of 2 parts )

A Report by Robert   R.  Schwarz

Note:  This article contains several interviews 

that included a retired U.S. Army general who 

fought in the Vietnam War, , an Army chaplain  

(now a parish priest ) who did four tours of duty 

in an Afghanistan war zone , and a psychologist

and social worker caring for veterans with  Post

Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) at the veteran's

hospital in Waukegan, Illinois. For their personal

security, a few individuals mentioned in this

report requested not to be identified by

name. For the sake  of narrative cohesion, this

reporter has taken a few minor liberties in

describing some scenes and dialogue. 

An update: This report was updated on 

July 19, 2022 after another interview 

with General Mukoyama, Jr. It appears

at the end of   this report.  

Part I                

            In June of 1969 in the 14th year of the Vietnam War, 150 American soldiers of Company B, 4th Battalion of the 39th Infantry, 9th Division, are led silently through the Mekong Delta jungle in search of their Vietcong enemy. Their three platoons are being led by Capt. James Hidefumi Mukoyama, Jr, who become one of the youngest major generals in the U.S. Army.

      

At the Mekong  Delta, men of Company B carry out a
a wounded buddy. Capt. Mukoyama ,  with helmet,
is at rear. ( UPI photo by Shunsuke  Akatsuka )
 

      Johnny Tidewell , a twenty-one-year-old private first class is one of the 150 men carrying 25 to 30 pounds of gear that includes hand grenades and  an M16 semi- automatic rifle. Capt. Mukoyama's weapon is  an AR15,  a modified version of  his men's rifle.    The enemy which they are about to encounter kills with the Russian-developed semi-automatic and gas-operated AK-47 (also known as the Kalashnikov).

            Since early morning Company B has been moving silently as a fan-shaped patrol with fox-like alertness; their particular enemy is   guerrillas who operate in small units of perhaps 27 men who have shed military uniforms and attack by ambush. Their strategy is simply—but always violently—to disrupt operations of larger American units in the Delta and then to  flee quickly.

            Johnny will always  remember the jungle cacophony of sudden  monkey  screeches and  bird squawks and  the wading through   Delta rice paddies and  disease-ridden swamp waters with snakes, leeches, and malarial mosquitoes.   Here and there the Vietcong has placed a human  skull with crossed bones atop it as a warning  to their own men that here is  an American  booby trap. But Company B  has discovered that some of these markers  falsely indicate  booby traps just to force an  American patrol to   detour from its  path.       Though  ten months of deployment in jungles has  hardened Capt. Mukoyama's men  to the environment, the  torrid humidity  has  become another enemy.  

          Like many soldiers facing mortal combat, Johnny is  occasionally comforted with a few seconds of  memories of better times , like those of  camping as a teen-aged  Eagle Scout or  holiday dinners with his  parents , and two brothers , and his  sister,  or pitching horseshoes at his church picnics.   

          Suddenly, Johnny overhears Captain Mukoyama tell one of his lieutenants, "tell the men the enemy is in the area".  The patrol now moves  aggressively through the dense jungle of palm trees and impenetrable walls of  bush-thickets.  Their captain would later recall that the constant  pumping of his  adrenaline  left little room  for fear or doubts about the value of this patrol mission.  Freedom is not free, Johnny once heard him say . Johnny  believed that.

                One of  the platoon point men  shouts ,"Enemy!"   No more than 50 yards ahead and caught by surprise is an encampment of  25 Vietcong guerrillas .  Both   sides begin  firing. For several seconds no human voice is  heard.  Capt. Mukoyama instinctively acts: he keeps his men advancing while he stays in contact with his platoon leaders and makes sure  all three platoons are engaged in the fight.

          Pfc Tidewell hits the ground and aims his weapon at a Viet Cong . A finger touches the trigger then, oddly, freezes for a second or two. Johnny squeezes the trigger  and sees a Viet Cong body jerk violently , then sway and fall to the ground.

            The men of Company B keep firing and advancing until they are  about 20 yards away from the guerrillas, who now  begin to retreat.  The fire fight lasts 10, maybe 15 minutes. There are no American casualties. But there are three dead  Viet Cong, one  lying  at  the feet of Capt. Mukoyama . The captain stands over his dead  enemy for a moment or two and (he will later admit to himself) without any compassion, as  if this human being was a lifeless animal. 

          "I stopped  and looked  at this body at my feet and realized  something had hardened my heart," he told me years later when I interviewed him at a coffee shop in Glenview, Illinois. It was a kind of confession for him.  He went on:   "Only moments earlier all these dead men were live   human beings , children of God ; they had families,  loved ones, emotions, and  yet I was treating them like they were bumps on a log. Then I remembered Jesus' Sermon on the Mount, where He told us to pray for our enemies. So in the middle of  all this stuff going on,  I just said a  silent prayer  for the three Vietcong and their families—and for myself. I  didn't make a big ceremony out of this. I didn't get on my knees. All of this  maybe lasted  45 seconds, but it has remained me with me for the rest of my life." 

             Today that  captain, now a retired and decorated two-star general,  will tell you or anyone , and with ageless joy on his face,  that by coming to those  painfully honest terms with himself,  he had avoided being permanently wounded— morally.  It was a grace which he admits was to shape and enrich the rest of his life.  

In June 1969 , Capt. Jim Mukoyama outside
"Fire Support Base Danger" at My Tho ,
Viet Nam.. He will  later be promoted to a
a major general. 

           Johnny did not come to terms with his role in the violence of that day. For years, he would not because he could not. Until…

…Twenty-Three Years Later

          Years later, Johnny  Tidewell, then   age  43 ,  is sitting with his wife in  a private visitors'  room at the Captain James A. Lovell Federal Health Care Center in North Chicago.  They are waiting for a clinical psychologist. Johnny's wife drove her husband here last night after he had told her—for the third time in two months— that  he did not want  to live any more . "I just don't want to be a human anymore," he would mumble  to her. This time , considering how his erratic behavior had intensified over the last year, she believed him. What bothered her most was that neither she nor he could offer any reasonable explanation for  his depression and occasional emotional flare-ups in front of their two teenage sons . She sensed that something horrible  inside him was hiding  , something he wanted to stay hidden  even from himself. "Father scares me," one of the sons told her.   

          The psychologist, Dr. Ambrose , entered the room carrying Johnny's  data chart  which Johnny's  wife had given him just an hour earlier.  Upon seeing the psychologist, the wife  managed a  feint but sincere smile, seemingly to tell herself  she was married to  a man who, despite the chronic  darkness around  his eyes, was still handsome and vigorous by nature.

          "So, the psychologist said, "tell me what's going on."

          "You tell him, dear, you know more than  I do,  "Johnny said.

          She went through a list of her husband's symptoms , often hesitating as if she were in court making a confession for a crime for which  her  husband was wrongly convicted. 

          "Well, for a long time," she began, "Johnny's  been getting anxious over nothing. And he is often sad for no reason…He doesn’t trust his driving. And —"

          "— I lost my teaching position at the college," Johnny interrupted.

          " He had been drinking wine , much more than he ever did. Then he'd sleep too late the next morning."

          "How much more? " Dr. Ambrose asked.

          "Maybe three glasses at lunch and then also  at dinner," the wife said. 

    The psychologist looked at his chart for a  long moment .  "I see you served our  country in Viet Nam , Johnny."

          Johnny grew restless and on edge.

          Dr. Ambrose drew Johnny into a conversation about his combat experience. Johnny, now quite tense, told him little. He turned to his wife and said almost in a whisper, "I think I'd like to go home, Dear."

           Obviously weighing his words carefully, Dr.  Ambrose  paused for a long moment before leaning towards Johnny and saying: " Mr. Tidewell, I believe you have a post-traumatic stress disorder, something for which a hundred or more ex-servicemen are being treated here. "

          "What in the hell is that?" Johnny's  wife said,  raising her  voice  and losing  her composure .

          The room became still. Then Dr. Ambrose said warmly, "Let's find out—together." He pulled his chair close to Johnny, saying,  " Johnny , if you don’t mind, let's talk a bit about you having to shoot that  enemy soldier. "

          Johnny stiffened, then jolted up from his chair, shouting, " But I didn't HAVE  to kill him!  I didn't have to !  He wasn't even aiming at me!"

          Johnny's wife quickly placed a caressing palm on the back of  her husband's neck. "Johnny, Dear ,  he was the enemy and you were an American soldier!"

          Johnny walked slowly to a window,  gazed up to the sky,  and  struggling with words that had obviously  been imprisoned in him  for years and now were being set free, exclaimed, Oh, my God,  I murdered a man!" He then turned  and rushed towards the door.

          "Where are you going, Johnny?" his wife cried out.

          " I have to vomit, " he replied, and left.

          Johnny's wife began to weep. Dr. Ambrose put an arm on her shoulder and said, "Let's keep your husband here a month, maybe two. Don't worry, I'm sure we can make things right again for Johnny. Johnny's wife slowly and firmly  nodded her consent.   

  Dr. Ambrose repeated his words of encouragement,  this time  intoned with obvious  confidence.

" Yes," Johnny's  wife said  in an affirming tone. "My  husband is  strong."

End of Part One 

[ Next Sunday, July 31: What

you likely don't know about the

thousands of retired and active

U.S. service men still suffering

from the moral wounds of war. ] 

                                     The Mukoyamas in their backyard of the

                                      home the General designed 
UPDATE:  Today, a few days from his78th birthday, James H. Mukoyama , Jr. lives a very active civilian life with his wife of  more than 50 years, Kyung Ja ( "K.J." ) , of Korean descent, in the upper-middleclass  Chicago suburb of Glenview.  When asked what he does for fun, he laughed and mentioned a list of volunteer activities that included Military Outreach USA, a faith-based organization he founded; it  cares for veterans with moral wounds  [ www.militaryoutreachusa.org  ] and provides free resources and education to houses of worship . He also is an executive board member of "Friends of Fisher House Illinois [ www.fofhil.org], which provides help and healing for military families . He also is an active member of a small,  Christian  men's  group . Then there is an autobiography he has recent completed . 

    When asked what he believed is the most important--or best --freedom, the General said: "It's personal choice...My idea of freedom is for individuals to make choices in their life about what is right, what is wrong, and what are correct actions and what are incorrect actions ..."  When I replied that this kind of freedom is abused so much world-wide, the General replied, "Well, that's why we have the Ten Commandments. " 

    

All comments are welcome.

rrschwarz71@comcast.net

© 2019, 2020, 2022 Robert R. Schwarz