My special story of the Vietnam war took place sometime between 1966 and 1972. I don’t remember the exact date, but I remember the range because I was a student, first in college and later in medical school, and also during that period my father was serving in the Maine Legislature.
My father was a World War 2 veteran. He really believed in America’s entry into that war and had volunteered to serve. He ended up in the South Pacific, where he developed a horror of the realities of war. Almost from the moment we entered the war in Vietnam, he thought it was mistake and thought perhaps he could save lives by expressing his concerns. And he was surprised when his patriotism and love of his country was questioned because of his beliefs.
My father’s method of protest was to go each Sunday to the green in Brunswick and stand quietly along the edge of the green holding up anti-war signs with one or two other peace protestors. It was always a very small group and when I was back in Maine for vacations, I would join the protest.
One Sunday we were standing out there as usual and two Brunswick police officers walked by. As they did, one said to the other, “Damn Communists”. I felt my heart stop. I didn’t know how my father might respond because everyone in our little group heard the remark. My father stepped out of line and called “Sir, I need to speak with you”. The officers stopped. My father said: “I want you to understand that I am a World War 2 veteran, and I am no communist. I am here because I love my country as much as you do. I hope you will apologize to me or I will report you to your Superior”. I am pleased to say that the officer did apologize and I was never prouder of my father.