Terry D. Sutherland
DRINKING ALONE
Terry and Randy: Dak To area of the Central Highlands of South Vietnam ~ November 18, 1967Thoughts strangled by your hand
Before they turn to tears
Listen to a sixty’s band
Recount those war torn years
Thumb through ragged photographs
Of wasted youth in green
The men now in local epitaphs
They’ll never again be seen
Another pull from the bottle of Beam
Another smoke put out
Put off sleep so you don’t dream
Cast off any doubt
Fear that the light will come
And bring another day
Think of what your life’s become
It’s like an off screen play
Turn up the sound on “Three Dog Night”
Sing along with the “Rolling Stones”
Think about the bar room fights
Drink to your life alone
How different would you life have been
If it weren’t for the Asian War
You wouldn’t drink every bourbon blend
And become such a social bore
©Copyright April 19, 2007 by Terry D. Sutherland
Author’s Note: The photograph was taken the morning of November 18, 1967, in the Dak To area of the Central Highlands of South Vietnam. I am the one sitting in the jeep eating what appears to be pound cake from a C Ration meal. My friend Randy is sitting in his lawn chair next to the jeep. We had just pulled into this area minutes before the photo was taken. This area would become the Forward Command Post of the 173d Airborne Brigade. The photo is significant because Randy and I were both from Montana. It was contrary to the laws of probability to have two people from sparsely populated Montana in the same at the same time in the same unit and company, but it happened. Randy and became good friends having a lot in common by virtue of the state we were from. Some of you may recall that one of the bloodiest battles in the war took place in the hills that you see in the background of the photo. The Battle for Hill 875 started in the early morning hours of the 19th of November and ended 5 days later on Thanksgiving Day. Two of our under strength battalions faced the 174th NVA Regiment (one of the four NVA Regiments of the 1st NVA Division located in this area). We lost 158 of our Sky Soldiers KIA, 411 wounded, and 33 missing in that battle.
Randy had been in Vietnam 6 months longer than I. When his year was up I had another six months to go. Randy extended his tour for another six months, went back to the US on leave, but did not return to the 173d Airborne. He got a job as a door gunner on Huey in another unit. When my year was up, I extended my tour for another 6 months, but returned to my job in the 173d Airborne.
After Randy was discharged he came to Bozeman, Montana to attend Montana State University. When I was discharged I did the same. When I came to Bozeman, I looked Randy up hoping to continue our friendship. Randy had changed and was not interested in remembering or renewing our friendship. We both stayed in Bozeman; Randy married and went to work for the State Highway Department. I went to work for the city as a Firefighter and also married. I saw Randy periodically in one bar or another when we had our monthly Firefighter’s meeting and went out for beers afterward. It occurred to me finally that it wasn’t coincidence that I saw Randy in the bar each month. He was there every night. Randy’s wife finally left him after twenty some years of drinking. In May 1993, Randy checked himself in to the VA Hospital in Helena and died of liver failure on May 30, 1993. He was 47. His ex-wife and widow, works here at the University in Media and Theater Arts. I gave her the photos that I had of her husband and she had them written to a CD. I have this one as the background on my computer here at work. The poem “Drinking Alone” was written while I was thinking of Randy.
Terry D. Sutherland: April 20, 2007