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Military service had been a long-standing tradition in my family, and so the Navy ROC program seemed like a normal and natural thing to do. Furthermore, I'd been having difficulty deciding on a major, which implied some sort of career choice. Since I had absolutely no idea what I was going to do when I graduated from º¬Ðß²ÝÑо¿ÊÒ, I figured that a few years of military service would buy me the time I needed to make my career decision.

At the time I joined the ROC program in 1966, Vietnam was but a blip on the horizon. But two years later, in 1968, the war had escalated to the point where it was on everyone’s mind. I found myself in a bind. I had completed two summers at Navy Officer Candidate School and was due to be commissioned in June at graduation—but, like nearly everyone else in our class, I was deeply conflicted about the justification for the war. I was excited and proud to be commissioned soon, but I was also concerned that our government had not been giving us the full picture about Vietnam. Was the war really winnable?

And, if it was not, then what the heck were we doing there? Was the potential benefit of halting the spread of communism in Southeast Asia really worth the cost? I began to have serious doubts.

In early May, two officers from the Office of Naval Intelligence visited me at the Senior Center. They knew that I was to be commissioned the following month, and they expressed their concern about the antiwar demonstrations being held on the º¬Ðß²ÝÑо¿ÊÒ campus. They wanted me to provide the names of those involved. I told them that I had no idea since I had not attended any of the demonstrations. They gave me their business cards and asked me to report to them if I had any information in the future. I politely nodded, but I was so angry about their visit that after they left I ripped up their cards and threw them into the waste basket. I felt that they had no right to come onto our private college campus and ask me to spy on my own classmates.

The Vietnam War divided our country, but amazingly it did not divide our class. Those of us who served in uniform respected the views of those who did not. We respected their right to disagree with our government because many of us in uniform also disagreed. The only difference was we were less vocal.

I often wonder if more of us had possessed the courage to stand up and speak out against the war whether many lives could have been saved. In his memoirs, Robert McNamara admitted that he and President Johnson had concluded by 1968 that the war could not be won militarily. For God's sake, why didn't they tell us? After I finished my tour in Vietnam with the Naval Advisory Group in 1971, I concluded the same thing. But by then it was too late. The damage had been done, too many lives had been lost, and trust in our own government had been irrevocably damaged.

To this day I remain quite bitter about the Vietnam War.

It may sound like a paradox to say this, but while I respect those of us who served in uniform (and particularly those of us who served in-country), I have equal respect for those classmates who, for reasons of their own, chose not to serve.

This story first appears in the Fall 2018 issue of º¬Ðß²ÝÑо¿ÊÒ Magazine.

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