Loon - Jack McLean [3]
In 1950, we were brought into war on the Korean peninsula to combat Communism for the first time. It ended in a divided stalemate three years later. Three years after that, at the Geneva Convention, the remote Southeast Asian country of Vietnam was similarly divided after the defeat of the French colonialists. There was a growing resolve throughout the decade that Communism was evil and must be fought at every turn.
The United States and the Soviet Union built atomic bombs in staggering numbers and aimed them at each other. We maintained huge numbers of troops in Germany, Japan, and Korea to deter the looming threat. To maintain the troop levels, a compulsory draft required all boys in good physical health of eighteen years and older to serve a minimum of two years in the military. Those in school, whether high school or college, were deferred until they graduated or dropped out. That was the law. It applied to all and had been in place since before we were born. From an early age, consequently, we all knew we would have to serve. Yet, in spite of the threat, we grew up with privilege that was unimagined even a generation before. Many became the first in their families to attend college.
Our new generation became defined on the steps of the United States Capitol on January 20, 1961. There in the cold and the snow stood the young, vibrant John Fitzgerald Kennedy, the thirty-fifth president of the United States—his right hand gently resting on the Bible held by his wife, Jacqueline. He extolled service and sacrifice.
Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country.
Thanks to Kennedy, there was still a strong feeling that one individual could make a difference in the world. Millions of young Americans enthusiastically heeded his words and set forth to execute the Kennedy vision. My cousin Mike Ingraham became a freedom rider, one of thousands of Northerners to bus to the Southern United States in support of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., and the burgeoning civil rights movement. My brother, Don, entered the newly formed Peace Corps after college in 1964 and spent the next two years teaching school in northern Thailand.
One of the less noticed initiatives of the Kennedy administration occurred shortly after his inauguration when he quietly began to approve the deployment of American advisers to a remote corner of Southeast Asia called Vietnam. This number slowly edged upward until August 7, 1964, when, at the direction of President Johnson, Congress passed the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution, which granted the president broad discretion in Southeast Asia. The resolution was passed in response to the alleged attack on an American vessel in the Gulf of Tonkin by the North Vietnamese. By December 1965, there were nearly two hundred thousand American troops in Vietnam. Most of them were United States Marines. By the time I arrived, there were nearly half a million American ground forces in Vietnam, and President Johnson was more determined than ever to achieve an unconditional victory.
There would be no turning back.
My life was unremarkable, though it was one of privilege. Brought up in the New York City suburb of Summit, New Jersey, I learned to swim at the YMCA and attended Brayton Elementary School and Summit Junior High. Our family car was a 1956 Ford Country Squire station wagon. My parents reluctantly purchased our first television set in 1953. During the spring, I played pickup baseball at Memorial Field. My idol was Mickey Mantle. I took trumpet and piano lessons, went to dancing class, and did well in school. I had a paper route delivering the Newark Evening News. Everybody liked me, and I liked everybody.
I was a most agreeable child.
By the sixth grade I was a minor rock and roll idol in my own mind, writing music and performing at school talent shows. I had an interest in baseball, Buddy Holly, and girls.
I worshipped my brother, Don, who was six years my senior. His every move was watched,