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… through the thick of hell
Extracts from Hidden Enemy : PTSD A Puzzle That Doesn't Fit, as told by Oscar Muñoz to Jessey Muñoz
Chapter 13
Shame: The lurking enemy
When I got home, my life was similar to the jungles of Nam, with different enemies or forces trying to overpower me. Similar to the Viet Cong, whom I never saw even after we shot them, the lurking enemies in my life stayed hidden. Different enemies that came from different directions entered my life and lingered there for years. I tried to confront them many times but they were far-reaching. They troubled my soul like a cancer that lies quiet yet spreads slowly over time. One day I got the courage to face one of my enemies. It was perhaps that discipline that I had practiced years before that helped me stand with my bayonet in hand, armed and ready. Ready I stood.
The first enemy I faced was the stigma of being a Vietnam vet. It didn’t turn out the way I had imagined when I was in Vietnam. I had always thought that a returning soldier would be hailed a hero. I never got the parade or that hero’s welcome that I had anticipated. There were no ten foot banners saying, “Welcome home, Marine.” nor banners that hailed the words,“Gracias soldado.” The unpopularity of the war was fueled by the media and the returning war vets only added to the fuel.
Our American public saw it first hand - the pictures, the deaths, the controversy, the riots, the draped coffins, the politicians, the anti-war activists, and more deaths. There was no hero’s welcome for any soldier. In fact, my Captain told returning soldiers not to wear their uniforms in public because that would only bring attention to our service in the unpopular war. I fought a war for a country that was divided. Many of my buddies died for a country that was divided. And now, I felt divided. So I did not tell anyone. I kept it hidden for years. I remained in a depressing world because I could not share who I really was. I stood there in the middle of nowhere; nevertheless,
I could not find the courage to face the enemy of being a Vietnam vet. I did not want to be known as the baby killer. The war in the jungle never ended. Even friends and acquaintances would murmur, “Es veterano de Vietnam.” The negative stigma of being a Vietnam vet was prevalent in those days and still is to this very day.
Was I really a bad guy?
The stereotypes of the Vietnam veterans continued for years. Oftentimes, I felt belittled because I could not be myself and to add to the misery I was also a Latino returning from war. I could not stand up and say “I am Oscar Munoz, Lance Corporal in the U.S. Marines.” That is part of my life. That is me. Yet, I could not stand proud of the fact that I had served in the Marine Corps.
Chapter 14
It was my duty
When my tour of Vietnam ended in February 1970, I was given some R & R from the Corps in the beautiful Hawaiian Islands and the wonderful city of Sydney Australia. I thought that life outside Vietnam was like this—calm, beautiful and care-free. What a perfect life to live. Yet when I got home, reality hit me and the life of poverty I left was waiting for me.
I had no identity. There was no place that recognized my life as a soldier. Even the local veteran posts were not all inclusive. Hispanics were barred from entering or joining the local veterans’ posts.
It was not until later in my life when I was working as a realtor that I finally came out and voiced my participation in the war. The office secretary, whom I had known for years, asked me if I had served in the military. I responded and told her that I had been a Marine and had served in Vietnam.
Her reaction took me aback. “No, you are not one of them?”
One of them! Who was I supposed to be? By her response I knew that she had stereotyped all Vietnam vets. I felt that dagger truly pierce my side. I could not deny that I had served as a Marine. I could not deny that I had killed some men. But that was my duty and the duty of any combat soldier. American combat soldiers were not ordered to kill or injure civilians during battle. I took no pleasure in killing my fellow man. Yet we knew that a Viet Cong or any NVA with a weapon would defend his life, too.
I took no pleasure in seeing my brother lying next to me crying for a superior being to spare his life. There was no pleasure in red stained jungle foliage and no pleasure in bodies in bags. It was not my war. It was not even our war; but we fought because we served the United States of America. All combat servicemen fought because it was our duty.
Those returning combat vets got the brunt of the blame for the unpopular war. We were looked upon as the ones who started the war and the ones who did not bring home a victory. Regardless of how we felt, the majority of Americans were fed up with the politics of the war and we became the punching bag. The media portrayed the war as a waste of life and money.
Walter Cronkite questioned our involvement in Vietnam and soon other news producers and journalists spoke against the war because the U.S. government and military lied about the progress of the war. So the media made the war look as if it was out of control and that the U.S. involvement had no purpose. The media also portrayed soldiers as men who would kill anyone who got in the way, even children and babies. This, of course, enraged the public and thus made the war seem useless and insignificant.
The public also saw the enragement of other public figures. These public stars did not hesitate to voice their opinions. In particular, Jane Fonda’s travels to North Vietnam during the war and those infamous photos did not prove favorable for the U.S. soldiers. I suppose many others protested the war. But regardless, we were soldiers following orders.
Its unpopularity made its way into popular music. Singers and bands voiced their disapproval of the unpopular war through the lyrics they wrote and sang. Even lyrics that had no intention of being antiwar made their way into popular war movies about Vietnam.
Its portrayal made those who fought upset because they gave their lives for the United States. Where was the pride in being an American? What about all the young men who gave their lives; who will hear their voices now? That fear made me outwardly want to forget that I had served in Vietnam.
I kept the war hidden and kept my involvement in it hidden, yet its obscurity caused guilt to consume me. I felt bad that I had participated in killing others. I felt bad that I was treated as a warmonger. I felt bad that my fellow vets of other wars denied my existence as a veteran simply because Vietnam was not a real war. I felt bad that I could not help my buddy who lay with open wounds and crying in pain. I tried to comfort him for the last few minutes, but as expected for any soldier with such severe wounds, he lost his fight. I felt bad that I could not just reach out and pull that PFC to a safe and comfortable place to die in the jungle a world away.
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| Oscar Muñoz, in the Hollywood hills, with sign deploring average deaths of 22 veterans a day by suicide |
The guilt dug deep into me. It ate at me day and night. Many nights I would wake up screaming because I lived the battle again in my dreams. I lived that death, that battle, that sadness again…and again. The guilt trickled into my bed at night as a thick heavy fog choking me and consuming my being. I would wake up in fear. Why do I feel this way? Why can’t it just end? The guilt lingered for many years and stayed.
Now as I am older and as most Americans understand our involvement in Vietnam, it is time for me to say that I am not ashamed of my years of service as a Marine in the Vietnam War.
In order for me to move on, I must completely understand my role as a soldier. I must also forgive those who despised me as a soldier. I have forgiven Ms. Fonda because she has asked to be forgiven. Many soldiers still harbor resentment towards her comments. But life is forgiving and life is for learning.
I have forgiven the local VFW posts who barred us. It only gave us Hispanics a reason to create new Hispanic posts such as American Legion Post 41 in Phoenix and the VFW Post 7420 Don Diego in San Diego as well as others. I personally have friends in both these posts. These posts are open to anyone, yet they maintain that Mexican flare: bailes, comidas, and cerveza.
Chapter 23
Leading Man
When I was young, war was depicted eloquently by Hollywood. John Wayne was that nice Marine Sergeant in The Sands of Iwo Jima. John Witmer made the Marines looks courageous and brave in Halls of Montezuma. The Marines stood tall and were always the heroes. As a kid, I watched those movies on a small black and white TV set. I guess the blood, if there was any, did not leave a red stain.
As a young kid I thought that becoming a Marine would make me a hero. I would leave the ranch and be hailed as the Hispanic who made something out of his life. So I joined the Marines. I became like that Hollywood soldier. Well, I soon learned that John Wayne’s war did not compare to reality. The Marines on TV did not do what real Marines were expected to do. Hollywood used the reel to show only what they wanted by adding drama to an unrealistic storyline.
The Latino found no popular portrayal on the screen. Along with other minorities, the Hispanic was depicted as the weak individual. The Hispanic got the bullet in the head and lay dead on the battlefield. Seldom did the Hispanic lead a group of men or wear the officer’s stripes. Coming home as a Latino soldier did not help, since the minority soldier had been made out to look like a peon by popular culture depictions of the war.
When the characters died on screen, the actors got up at the end of the filming scene. Had it only been that easy, had the bullets been made out of rubber, then I would have felt better about my whole experience. Men were killed with real bullets. That was real; Hollywood got that wrong, and it got other things wrong as well in regards to the Latino soldier.
Hispanics had an important role in the Vietnam War. Hispanics made contributions. Hispanics did shed their blood for the United States of America. We did our part and served with pride, especially us Marines. Simper Fi guided us. Besides coming home as invisible veterans, we came home with pride. Hispanics received forty-three Medals of Honor and many other Hispanic Vietnam veterans have been decorated with other medals, including mine. We did not run like chickens that feared death, as portrayed by Hollywood. Many became leaders and led platoons as point man through the jungles of Nam, as I did. Even if a Medal of Honor was not pinned on me, a pat on the back from my captain saying,“You did a great job leading the men” was just as important. That, to me, has meant a lot, even to this day.
Insert Picture C23-93
I was a soldier in the U. S. Marines.
I am not a Hollywood producer, but I am a vet. It would be nice if there could be some positive portrayals in Hollywood of the roles Hispanics play in real life. I was a point man, a Marine, and I am a veteran. I am not a gardener, a maid, an illegal immigrant, a gangster, a convict, a drug smuggler, a loser, a bum on the street, a farm laborer, or the first guy who gets shot in a war movie. Cast me as a general, a president, a land owner, or a man of honor. Yes, I was a leading man. I led my men through the thick of hell.
I am proud that I served my country. I am proud to be a Marine. And I am proud to be a Latino.
Oscar andJessey Muñoz grew up together on a ranch between Chandler and Mesa, Arizona. Their mother was born in Los Angeles and their dad worked as a bracero and eventually became a U. S. citizen.
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| Oscar Muñoz |
Oscar Muñoz served in the United States Marine Corps from February 1969 to February 1970 and was honored with service medals. Hidden Enemy, based on his war experiences in Vietnam, grew out of his great interest in helping other veterans by telling his story about dealing with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Oscar and his wife, Norma, live in San Diego, California; they have three children and two grandchildren.
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| Jessey Muñoz |
Jessey Muñoz, who has self-published one poetry book and two children’s books, has been an elementary school educator for the past 35 years. Hidden Enemy is his first non-fiction book. A graduate of Brigham Young University in 1981, he earned his Masters from Pan America University in Edinburg, Texas. He and his wife, Pat, live in Texas and have three children and one grandson.
Hidden Enemy (Outskirts Press 2015) ISBN: 9781478741572, can be ordered online at Barnes and Noble, bn.com; Amazon.com, or outskirtspress.com and is also available as an e-book.