Vietnam Generation

Today, I finished reading Tim O'Brien's book, The Things They Carried, and not just the short story by the same name that is frequently anthologized. I finished the last story in an overhot, muggy, solarium attached to the student union cafeteria; even though the food was somewhat bland, which I suppose is typical of most cafeterias, I was engrossed in the story.

I am not one of those people fascinated by the machismo of war, or the amped up conceptions of manliness that frequently go with it. When I worked at a printed circuit board factory, a coworker encouraged me to sign up with the National Guard saying it was "just like camp, only you get to blow up stuff." He told me how he and fellow soldiers blew a large crater into one of our national forests by using a little too much C4 to clear out a dead and fallen over log. I forget what the purpose of clearing out the logs were, but I wonder if he still thinks the National Guard is like camp because, almost assuredly, he is currently on duty in Iraq.

The fascination for me comes from two places: first, the (unwilling) extreme experience of pain and terror, and the various ways that are developed to cope with that, and second, the connection of the Vietnam War and my parent's generation. The War has significantly shaped them, but in ways - while I can feel - I don't really understand.