Descriptive Essay: My First Vietnam War

When I started out, it was a beautiful day in Michigan. I left Muskegon as the sky became full of many small cumulus clouds. The green of the corn fields seemed striking as jungle foliage. Feeling better than I had since my discharge, I felt excited. As I drove the I-96, I listened to a Grateful Dead tape, and I remembered my Uncle Galway’s funeral. As I looked into his casket, my uncle seemed lost between the satin upholstery on the sides of his box. His handle bar moustache and square chin reminded me of pictures of middleweight boxers from the Gay 90’s. On the wall of his favorite bar were the pictures of local boxers. They were Poles, Irish, and Welsh fighters, and only in the memories of my uncle and his friends, did these men exist
As I entered the slow lane, I began to experience a series of short but intense periods of sweating. I knew my nightmares were upon me when I felt these hot flashes. I clenched my teeth on the stem of my pipe and tried to think of something pleasant. I hated the jungle’s heat. Upon my return stateside, I believed my blood carried the jungle’s heat. It would surface unexpectedly, and it brought with it the misery of war. Although I hated the jungle like I hated the war, there was a beauty to the jungle, and I remembered one particular morning. Some colorful birds were coming out of the foliage. It wasn’t the monsoon season, and the sun with the multicolored birds mingled among the plants. The world seemed so beautiful, but we were on patrol, and when we entered the tall grass lining a stream, the day’s heat made me feel sick and sticky with sweat. Then, my platoon came across the dead villagers. I had dreamt the previous night that I heard a couple men yell at their children. In the dream they were directing the boys to run. On the following day, the villagers’ bodies were real. On the ground some men covered the boys with their bloody bodies. It was as if the men’s last action was to protect their sons, but not one