- Things They Carried, Tim O'Brien

I have never been able to ask my father that question. Truthfully, I would not know how to respond if he answered yes. My father, in the prime of his life, was a fighter pilot for the Americans-trying to salvage his homeland, Saigon. He risked his life, his family's life, and his unfulfilled dreams to fly a plane and fight a fight that he would never discuss again. He steadfastly maintains his silence, a testament to the horrors he witnessed. However, I long to ask him about his days as a solider.

For me, the Vietnam War has always been a mystery. What I have learned about it stems from a textbook or glimpses of documentaries. While it was my father who participated in the war, I am also affected by the consequences of his participation. The War may have ended twenty years ago, but the memories that my father and many other soldiers, Vietnamese and American alike, still haunt them. Their silence or inability to express these haunting images resonates in the relationship with their children. From a generation who found the war inexplicable to a generation who finds the enduring frustration inexplicable, the War is still a magnetic force that guides the actions and emotions of its players.

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From a generation who found the war inexplicable to a generation who finds the enduring frustration inexplicable, the War is still a magnetic force that guides the actions and emotions of its players.

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In a recent Dateline special, an American Vietnam veteran finally revealed his painful reminder of his soldiering days. While fighting in a small North Vietnamese town, he killed a Viet Cong soldier. For some unexplainable reason, he decided to look at the soldier's identification papers and found a picture of the man's daughter. He kept that picture in his wallet for over 20 years. It was only four years ago that he decided he would return that picture to its rightful owner. He boarded a plane to Vietnam, full of fears and regrets, to give the man's daughter the only picture of her dead father. What would make this man keep a painful physical reminder of the horrors he saw and the sin he committed? The anguish affected his family. His wife could not penetrate the emotional shield he used to protect himself from the guilt. Ironically, he would have two girls-another reminder of his sin.

His daughters never knew that he kept a dirty secret in his wallet. All they knew was that he was never emotionally available. There was something sad about their father, something that he kept from them. Even after their father revealed the picture, they were upset about the lost times they could have shared. That picture took the place of hugs and kisses, of a carefree and loving father, but most of all, the presence of a father who had nothing to hide. For them, the Vietnam War severed more than their family. It severed the possibility of a family.

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