WE R THE 2ND GENERATION Danielle K. Reyes

WE R THE 2ND GENERATION: Danielle K. Reyes I am the 2nd Generation Agent Or...:

DANIELLE K. REYES I AM THE 2ND GENERATION AGENT ORANGE VICTIM DIOXIN SURVIVOR This is a pretty accurate account of what happened to my ...

Hearing My New Daughter Voice 1967 VN

© James J Alonzo

Back in the 1960’s There was a volunteer group of Ham operators known as MARS, offered to make calls in the USA and connect them by radio (2 way air waves), and the Soldiers could call home. It cost $20.00 for three minutes, which was a lot of money back then, but still there were long lines, to access the phones.

December 1, 1967, The red cross had stopped by at my base camp to inform me on my daughter’s birth and told me I had a child born that day. So the next chance I had, I drove to Saigon, 21 miles away, where the nearest MARS Station was. I waited in line for over two hours.

“Merry Christmas, Nanci? Over.”

“Jamie, is it you? Are you home?”

“You have to say OVER, when you’re finished talking honey. OVER”

“OK, over.”

“No, I’m still in Nam. I’m calling over radio phone from Saigon; they call it the MARS program*. I only have three minutes. I love you, OVER”

“Jamie, I love you too, OVER.”

“How is the family?” I shot off as much sentences as I could, because twenty dollars gave me only three minutes. “Tell them I love them and I miss them. How is the Baby? I am so proud of you. I love you, OVER”

“Oh Jamie,” Hearing the urgency in my voice, “every one is well and I will tell them, OVER.”

“I am so proud of you having the baby without me there. Is She there with you now? OVER.“

“She’s sleeping Jamie. OVER”

“Sleeping, Oh God, I wish I could hear my daughter! OVER.”

“I’ll go get her and bring her to the phone. OVER“

“OK. OVER.”

I could hear Nanci put the phone down and heard her talking to the baby. I was hoping that maybe I could at least hear her coo or something. Then I heard Nanci pick up the phone.

“Jamie, she is in my arms now, but she’s still sound asleep. OVER”

“One minute remaining” crackled the operator over the phone line, reminding us this call was about to end.

“Nanci there is so little time, please wake her up, so I can hear my baby. OVER”

“Come on Sherri, Daddy’s on the phone wake up,” I could hear Nanci trying to wake Sherri, “Jamie, she’s sound asleep, I just shook her a little and she won’t wake up. OVER”

“Oh Sweetie,” I said crying, ”Please wake her up. OVER”

“Ok,” Nanci said, then I heard Sherri started to cry, and I thought my God, what a beautiful sound.

“Oh Baby, she sounds beautiful, and loud! What a set of lungs! OVER”

“I pinched her bottom, I hope she will forgive me. OVER”

“30 Seconds remaining,” crackled the operator.

“Nanci I love you, and I will be home in six months, I promise! OVER.”

“I love you too, Jamie, be careful, ok? OVER.”

“Yeah, I will. I love you! OVER”

“END OF CALL,” said the operator.

*MARS - Military Affiliate Radio System - provided for a fee, ($20.00), unless you were of the Officer Corp, then no charge. Real time contact with families back in the land of the free during the Vietnam war, as it continues to do today for other servicemen and women overseas.

This was pre-Internet days and used HF radio to run "Phone Patches" where the serviceman in Vietnam could 'connect' through a MARS radio station with a MARS station in the U.S., who would then make the connection through a phone line to the family. Thus, 'Phone Patch'.

Mars operators on both sides of the Pacific' who provided the link between servicemen and families. Operators were required to monitor each call, for stuff folks weren't supposed to say, and more importantly flip the transmit/receive switch, a routine where the operator listened to what anybody said, and when they heard, "OVER" the operator would flip the switch. Watching the 3 minute time limit, or translating if the freq was going "down", was more the focus of the call.


© Copyright 2011 James J Alonzo All rights reserved.
James J Alonzo has granted Agent Orange Legacy its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.

What Is A Viet Nam Vet (author unknown)

It is not an easy question to adequately answer because not all Viet Nam Vets will fall into a description given by one person.

Let me begin by stating some facts about the Viet Nam Vet and then you will understand the complexity of trying to accurately describe him or her.

During the height of the war the average number of Americans in Viet Nam was about 500,000. It is said a total of 2.6 million Americans served in Viet Nam.

Of that 500,000 only 50,000 were in actual combat. (Usually about 10%.)
This fact indicates how difficult it would be to give a comprehensive description of a Viet Nam Vet.

So what I will attempt to do is give you some statistics about combat vets and let you draw your own conclusions.

We lost almost 59,000 men and women during the 16 years of Viet Nam. As of 5 years after the war was officially over, we had 150,000 Viet Nam Vets that had committed suicide.

The suicide rate for Viet Nam Vets is 86% higher than the national average of peers of the same age group.

70% of all one car accidents is Viet Nam Vets (was it really an accident).
60% of all Viet Nam Vets have serious emotional problems.

Between 50 and 60% have a history of alcohol and drug abuse.

The unemployment rate for Viet Nam Vets is double the national average.
The divorce rate for Viet Nam Vets is almost 3 times as many as the national average.

About 25% of all incarcerated people are Viet Nam Vets. (Most are non-violent crimes).

56% of all homeless Americans are veterans, 44% are Viet Nam Vets.

These are stats you don't hear about unless you are trying to find them out.

What you do hear is that a Viet Nam Vet is a bearded, motorcycle gang member with psychological disorders and violent tendencies.

They are anti-social and a threat to our way of life. Although this may be true of some it by no means describes 98% of them.

Normally you would never know he was a Viet Nam Vet because he or she would never share that with you.

He or she normally is a man or woman working next to you that does his or her job and goes home. He is in every area of this society and usually out performs others in the same field.

He may have been on the same job 20 years but chances are that he has held numerous jobs and probably will never achieve enough time on one to draw any retirement benefits.

On the surface he looks like anyone else but underneath is a complex man of deep feelings and emotions. He may be physically there but mentally he could be one of the MIAs (Missing in America).

He maybe emotionally isolated and may even be physically removed from the routine of everyday life that most of us endure with ambivalence.

He is a POW of a war that he doesn't even realize is still raging inside of him. He may look good on the outside but there's a numbness inside that doesn't allow him to have feelings like normal men and women. His family witnesses him die daily but when confronted he will deny that he has a problem.

Afterward he feels so guilty that he just gets drunk and stares at the TV for hours and hours not really seeing anything except the recesses of his mind. He usually has difficulty with authority and constantly criticizes the governmental figures.

He may cry a lot or be cold as ice. He can usually handle any crises that comes up with a cool that is never there at Christmas dinner. He may disappear for days without warning and act like nothing happened when he returns.

His sleep is never without labor and it is dangerous to wake him suddenly. He usually is obsessed with guns and weapons of all kinds and is never without protection.

If he meets another Viet Nam Vet it's almost like they automatically connect on a frequency that no one else is privy to. They may talk for hours about the war but he would never mention one word about it to his own family.

Life generally leaves him confused and scared though he won't admit it and he avoids any talk of therapy like the plague. If he does go to therapy it takes Forever to get him to talk because he doesn't trust anyone.

He usually has Great ideas and plans but they never materialize because of his unknown fears
prevent him from carrying them out.

As I said this is by no means a comprehensive view of a Viet Nam Vet but it gives you an idea of what many Viet Nam Vets face on a daily basis. God willing we will be able to reach a greater number of them and help them to make the adjustments necessary to cope with life on much better terms.

If you know a Viet Nam Vet please thank him or her for the sacrifice he or she made and is still making and welcome him or her home at last.

John And Nancy (VN)

(C). James J Alonzo

They were children, and they were in love, and having met four years prior at the local 4H picnic in rural Iowa. John and Nancy dated all through high school, went to the prom, and graduated from high school. So now John and Nancy were planning on marrying, having a family and working their own family farm.

Unfortunately John got his draft notice, and they decided the wedding was to be cancelled till he got back from serving his country. The Army wanted him, John didn't resist, his country at war was calling him, and many other young men. America was counting on them to fight in a funny little country called Viet Nam.

So he went to train, to serve, to fight, and learn to kill. When he should of been home, loving Nancy, having children, working the farm, and settling down. It just didn’t seem right that his country told him to leave his young sweetheart for the war.

It seemed like a brief moment that took him from the silence of a rural lifestyle to the raging battlefield. A jungle, hot, humid, bug and snake infested battlefield. The fighting in these engagements with the Viet Cong were always fierce and unrelenting.

Day by day John and his buddies patrolled the jungles in the "Iron Triangle" and eventually dug in every night. The tragedy and chaos of war shook John and often he saw things he wanted to forget .

There were no body armor back then, and one day John stopped a bullet as he provided cover fire on the ground for his buddies. He laid there unable to walk, when one of the medics named Decatur Johnson came to his aid. John was bleeding heavily and in a lot of pain as the medivac chopper having been radioed to get him out of there. Decatur's ebony face was wet with sweat and dirt as he hurriedly started working on John's wounds.

Decatur, after provided Immediate treatment to John's wound, realized as bullets hailed down them both, that John needed to be move to a safer area. The enemy fire was too heavy for others to help Decatur.

When the rockets or morters exploded, Decatur would cover John's body with his own. The shrapnel from the explosions was too hot and getting too close, so Decatur lifted John like a father would a baby, carrying John through the small arms fire of the enemy. Getting cover fire from his buddies. From the fire fight to the LZ (landing zone) was over 150 meters, that was as close the chopper could get near the fire fight, so when Decatur and John arrived, they dropped on the ground in a exhausted heap.

Once at the LZ, Decatur gave John some more treatment to his wound as grenades, rocket fire and bullets hailed down. After the chopper arrived, it took John and other wounded to 93rd Evac hospital at Long Binh.

Later on that day Decatur while attending to more of the wounded, caught a piece of shrapnel through his head and neck killing him instantly. No one reported the heroic deeds the medic performed, the soldiers he saved that day, and the other soldiers never mentioned it.

Most times in battles, heroic deeds are so common place, it is more like expected. The medic did his job saving lives, the machine gunner provided at great risk, cover fire, etc. That was our job, kill the enemy, stay alive and keep our buddies alive. In battle " God and country", never really came into the equation.

After Long Binh, John was sent to the Phillipines, and once stable, John was sent back home to an Iowa VA hospital to recover. John would find out years later who had saved his life.

Unable to remove the bullet from inside him the doctors left it there as a "souvenir" of the war, or a reminder, a reminder that John did his time in hell, and John's time in the hell had come to an end.

He was sent home with a severe injury, calling for a long recovery, but John felt he was sent home dead. However he was "alive", still alive to his family and his sweetheart Nancy.

The war came to an abrupt end for John, and he was still concerned for all his buddies who were still over there. John felt also guilt, guilt that he made it back home, knowing some who would not.

It was a lovely spring day, the birds singing as they began building nests for their families. The spring flowers now blooming and bending to the warm spring breezes. John and Nancy were married in a white painted church in the country and afterward moved in a little house on a small farm.

It was a small farm with a little white house, where both families had helped in buying the farm, and fixing the barn.

John found it hard to adjust back into life after the war . He asked his wife to be patient with him . At first he received some help from a few buddies who were also having problems adjusting.

John and his friends met once a week at the local VFW, and had a few drinks .
What they couldn’t face they cut with alcohol .

Without warning, one of his Nam buddies took their own life and suddenly John was thrown back into a battlefield of his mind. While he was still devastated from his friend's loss, his loving Nancy brought him the news that she was expecting their first child.

That seemed to help John stay focused, and when his disability retirement pay came through he planned to begin a vegetable garden on the little farm . He worked hard every day and vented his anger on the land toiling away in the soil.

Each month his produce was brought from the farm to the local city farmer's markets, where he made money selling Corn and carrots , cabbage and beetroot.

Even though things seemed to be going along reasonably well, Nancy didn't know John had disguised his inner war so well. He couldn’t forget the past and still tried to cut it out of his mind with alcohol and sometimes drugs.

News of another child on the way brought some renewed happiness but that was short lived as the great drought followed .

The farm soon was dry and dusty with no crop in the ground .
In despair John and Nancy took their two young children and left the land for the city in the hope of finding work .

John and his wife had noticed a big difference in the city. People were angry, their attitude were different and cold, which was a challenge but one they had to adapt to . John found a job in construction, although the work didn’t suit him he was glad of a job as many had nothing.

Each day John would come home from work but never talked about his work and just sat quietly in his corner, watching TV, especially when the news was covering the Viet Nam War.

Memories still haunted him and he was troubled with regular flashbacks of the awful events that he had experienced during the war. The nights sweats, and nightmares were always his companion every time he tried to sleep.

The children had grown up fast and were now at school, so they were noticing their father's weird behavior.

Some nights John would wake to the sounds of bombs exploding in his head, bullets whizzing by his ears. As Nancy slept John crept out of bed, consciously unchained by the shackles of a nightmare that haunted him night and day.

Bathed in sweat he let the moment pass like a miniature death before returning to bed where he could not move an inch in a relaxed state. And when he drifted off to sleep chained again to the nightmares that he knew so well.

By the time the kids were in high school they had noticed the photographs of their Dad in army uniform. They found an old suitcase with sketches of the war Jack had drawn, however there
were no details of where and when, the children who were now young adults were intrigued.

Each time they asked questions about the war, they were met with silence and a stern warning look. They learned that there would be no information about the men in the photos or the sketches of places and what it was all about. John most times would just walk away and eventually the children stopped asking questions about the war .

The truth of it was John was still in the jungle and still fighting the battles every day of his life. Somehow he wanted to protect his kids from that experience, and by keeping quiet he thought that might help. He stuck to that throughout their growing years.

At times in the past, they didn’t know why their Dad got angry and smashed things around the house . Nancy made excuses for John and yet couldn’t understand herself what he was going through, She tried to get him help but he always said he was ok .

It came to a head one day when John hit her in fit of rage . Nancy was taken to the hospital . Suspicions arose as Nancy, blacken eyed and bruised, she wept in the ambulance. The doctor in emergency room spoke to her and asked some questions about what was going on.

The sad thing was that Nancy had become "the victim of a victim" and that is the worst kind of victim there is, however she still made excuses for John.

As time went on there were more and more angry outbursts and more Nancy visits to the doctor and hospital .

Eventually Nancy did explain to her doctor what was happening at home . At first the police made a visit. This was followed up by local church groups and then the doctor made a home visit and spoke in private to John.

After a brief consultation John agreed to take some medication, the doctor gave John a list of phone numbers and people to contact at any time should he need to speak to somebody. There was also another list handed to Nancy

For a while the medication seemed to help and apart from being drowsy John was more able to cope with things .

When the medication ran out John didn’t bother to renew the prescription and things soon returned to the way they were. He still had refused to go to the PTSD clinics.

Still unable to talk about his experience in the war John tried to cut it with more alcohol and drugs.

He tried, sometimes successfully, to shut the world out, however his wife and kids finally left him. They could take no more and John soon became a recluse, his marriage was finished.
It was too late, his kids and wife had enough of becoming targets for John's abuse and anger.

Alone and afraid John began to question his own existence. One day he stood in front of a mirror and spat at the man looking back at him. Everything he had was gone.

That evening, after careful planning, John stood on a chair under a tree with a rope suspended from its main branch. When He kicked the chair from underneath his feet, the limb broke from his weight! John finally had realized maybe he had been given a second chance.

He had once been a fighter, and knew with each personal victory there often came a cost. John realized he didn't fight hard enough for his family.

The biggest price he ever paid was losing his wife and kids to a war that wounded his body and his mind. He realized that he was a warrior, so he knew he had to make a stand .
His thoughts now focused on his children, wanting to see them and know what would become of them . He realised how much his wife had gone through and slowly but surely John started to get his life together again by going back to VA Hospital and the veterans PTSD program.

He visited the doctor and went back on medication. The doctor gave him some other ideas and contacts for counseling. He started therapy and joined a war veterans group.

With each step to recovery John grew stronger and faced his fears alone, taking on self discipline, showing up to work on time, keeping his cool.

With his new ability to listen to others who had gone through the same experiences as he did, he now realized he was not alone. All this lead to a healing process over time. A year passed and John was feeling more human, more in control and more in harmony with his life.

During this reconstruction period, a few years had passed. He didn't try to contact his wife or children, he wasn't ready, because it was difficult for him. He had questioned himself, 'what if they reject me? do I deserve it?'

One Christmas John received a card from his kids, one from his daughter, who was getting married, and one from his wife. Through his teared up eyes, he read a return address on the envelopes, and John decided he would show up at the door.

Not knowing if his wife and kids would give him another chance, he prayed hoping that it would be the best chance he had. He took a chance, and with a head filled with New Years resolutions and his arms full of presents, he knocked on the door.

“Merry Christmas. “,He said.

Nancy stood there and looked at him for a few moments, trying to read John. During that silence, he felt like a he was being cut in two.

“Are you well John?",She asked.

"I'm much better sweetheart. I love you!"

“The doctor called me a few weeks ago", Nancy smiled, "He was telling me about how well you are doing."

" How are you ?”, he asked.

“I’m doing ok," she smiled, taking John's hand, "There’s talk of a wedding, and we were wondering if you will give your daughter away. So you better come in .“



© Copyright 2011 James J Alonzo All rights reserved.
James J Alonzo has granted Agent Orange Legacy its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.

I Was Told I was Wrong To Go To Viet Nam

(C) James J Alonzo


My step father that raised me was a heavy handed parent back in the 1950's & early 1960's.

In today's times he would of been arrested for child abuse. He also was heavy handed with my mother but that ended when I was 16 years old. He never hit her again. However my mother loved him so in the interest of peace and harmony I did my best.

1978, Some years after I had been back from Viet Nam we did try and find ways to move closer in the last two years of my step-father’s life. He had been diagnosed with cancer, and it was Terminal.

There were few things we had in common. However, One of them was boxing. We both loved the sport, so I would take him to the ‘fights’ when he asked.

He had never served in War, as I did in Vietnam. But we never really talked about my experiences until one day, when we were on our way to the boxing fights at the city auditorium; we stopped at a diner to have a snack.

All of a sudden the conversation became very serious, when out of the blue he said,

“You know you were wrong to go to Viet Nam!!”

“ What?“ I was shocked, “This is coming from the man that was "Joe Patriot" and used to tell me that it was an honor to serve my country?”

“You know,” He continued, “you’re not the Jimmy I knew before. The Jimmy I knew before died in Viet Nam!”

I first ignored his hypocrisy, but I couldn‘t forgive the cruelty of his statement. I told him something I had felt for a very long time but had never said it out loud.

“Fuck you! You’re an asshole! I can't believe the media likes to say you’re from the “ greatest generation.”

He didn't say anything, just looked at me in kind of a very strange way.

" You know yours was the last generation that grew up believing there was a man in the moon, so how great is that?" I said in anger.

His was the last generation that grew up in rural communities untouched by modern technology, unknowing of all that is going on in the world.

I grew up in the information age, knowing everything, seeing everything, watching history unfold in front of my well-worn TV eyes.

His was the last generation that grew up having the full American dream intact; mine was the generation who saw the American dream tarnished by exposed lies, the high taxes, Assassinations, Watergate and other political, and business corruption.

Finally, and this was when it got very serious, I told him that his generation was a generation who was able to come home after fighting in a war not only knowing what you did was necessary but everyone around you knew it too.

My generation; part of us fought in a war we did not understand and when we came home, we were demonstrated against, spit on, yelled at, shunned, and left alone, by the other part of our generation.

We were denigrated by being emulated in movies and other media programs as drunks, druggies, mentally unstable killers.

We had no justification, no heroes, no protection of the heart, and no treatment for the one wound no one could see.

And his generation,,,,not only sent us to this war, they didn't support us when we came back!

We were left on our own to figure it out by ourselves, and many of us, unable to deal with the reality of what we did and what we saw, did the logical thing to survive– the only thing we could do to survive– we buried it.

We buried it in the deep place with in ourselves, inside where no one could see, no one could touch, and no one could hurt. Some buried it so deep they withdrew from the world around us and have never been able to reenter.

It was one of the most interesting and sad conversations I ever had with my step-father.

He argued with me on every point except the last– and when we got to that point, he looked at me and said, quietly, and simply,

“You’re right.”

And there was a very long pause after he said that – neither one of us said anything, nor when we both had tears in our eyes. My stepfather tears, I knew of no explanation, maybe because his stepson had been hurt and there was nothing he could do about it.

Moreover, me, I had tears in my eyes because it was the first time I had admitted aloud to someone I too had been emotionally wounded in ‘Nam. I guess It caught us both off guard. It was one of the few times that I felt kind of close to my stepfather. I am sure it was because we had shared a deep and significantly personal moment.

We never talked about that conversation again, but I remember that moment of sharing, with one whom I had never really shared anything with, my step-father.

© Copyright 2011 James J Alonzo All rights reserved.
James J Alonzo has granted Agent Orange Legacy its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.

Living with Agent Orange - Kennie Thompson; Vietnam veteran. member of AO Legacy and Agent Orange Victim - Warning: Graphic Images

Story written by Sharon L. Perry, Founder & Kennie Thompson

Kennie Thompson served his country for 20 years. He enlisted in the Air Force, June of 1959 and retired in August of 1979. Kennie went to Vietnam in June of 1966 and returned July of 1967 and was stationed 280 miles north of Saigon at Phan Rang. Also during his military career Kennie had a 4 year tour at RAF Alconbury, England.

Kennie was also stationed and/or had temporary duty in Korea, Formosa (Taiwan), Philippines, Okinawa Japan, and numerous other exotic ports of call throughout the Pacific. Also assigned to Minot, N. Dak, Dover, Del., Alexander, La.....many, many different places.

Little did Kennie know after his stint in Nam he was carrying some heavy baggage, fully loaded apparently. It didn't make itself known until some 40 years later. When agent orange finally reared it's ugly head. It hit Kenny hard!! Today Kennie is a disabled veteran with a 100% disability rating.


The above picture was taken of Kennie when he was 26 or 27 years old. It was just before Kennie left Phan Rang for Cannon Air Force Base in Clovis, New Mexico, for another fighter squadron. The living quarters were in the process of being built and the men had to live in tents until then. Kennie carried his guitar everywhere he went.

Kennie played himself to sleep every night with the guitar across his chest and when he could no longer stay awake he'd place his guitar under his cot. One night, Kennie was awakened, with a strange thump/twang noise, he sat up, reached under his cot and grabbed his guitar. The neck decided to depart from the body of the guitar. The strings were hanging, drooped between the neck and body...Kennie was crushed. It was like his best friend ran off leaving him all alone.

Kennie's struggle with agent orange has been a very difficult one. One I might add has been very difficult for me to comprehend while working on his story. Just beware that the following picture is a very graphic example of what Kennie has had to endure in service to his country.


Kenny posted this picture on facebook because all the other guys were posting pictures of their tattoos they got in Nam. Kennie noted that he didn't get any tattoos but he has this scar which is a reminder of his time in Vietnam some 40 years earlier. As a result of Kennie's exposure to agent orange he later was diagnosed with cancer of the larynx also known as throat cancer.

Kennie had a total laryngectomy. Kennie says his "arm looks a bunch better now and it will last as long as a tat." This was one of the places where skin, muscle, tendon and other things were harvested from to rebuild his esophagus.

This is the stoma, or hole Kennie breathes through (view above pic). It's totally separate from the tube that liquid and food travel to his stomach. You can't see it in this pic but he has a V shaped scar that runs from one ear, down to the stoma and back to the other ear. While that flap was pulled aside for the removing and rebuilding his esophagus and larynx, they removed his thyroid gland and lymph nodes.

On facebook, Kennie wrote recently, "Then, besides the other scars I just got this new one...not as drastic but it'll still keep the memories alive...wonder where it'll show up next?" The stitches on Kennie's lower lip were from a knot/bump which also turned out to be cancer and had to be removed (see above pic).

Kennie also has prostate cancer and diabetes. Fortunately, the prostate cancer numbers dropped a little with his last test. As a result his status changed to watchful waiting. The Diabetes, another famous AO item as Kennie puts it, is fortunately, being treated with medication.

This is a picture of Kennie Thompson in true form, playing the bagpipes. Kennie played the pipes all over New England and Canada for years. Kennie loved playing the bagpipes and would often play on his deck, facing the woods, entertaining the wildlife and maybe an odd ear off in the distance. Kennie was also a Shriner and proud member of the Anah Temple Highlanders.

Once the laryngectomy was complete Kennie could no longer play the bagpipes. It tore at his heart to never be able to play again.

"The sound of pipes playing now causes me to experience chill bumps and tears...it was so much a part of who I was, what I did, what I loved doing. Tugs at the heartstrings." Kennie Thompson


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