We Gott’a Get Out of This Place, If It’s The Last Thing We Ever Do

We Gott’a Get Out of This Place, If It’s The Last Thing We Ever Do

Memories of a welder in Vietnam, is a story that I started about twenty years ago. The problem now is, twenty years ago I was writing the story in my mind, recalling and enjoying the memories of a Seabee welder. This was about thirty years after Vietnam, at that time I was still burning welding rods, splicing bridge piling. For some time, welding on bridges had become almost automatic, something not needing much mental attention. Some days I would just let my thoughts wander back to Vietnam. My closest friends could be counted on one hand. Of these I could remember, first and last names, where they were from before Vietnam, and a lot about their background. As I was welding those bridges, my memories of some other friends on the other hand, were not as sharp. So I would just work on it, sometimes hours on end. Some of these details would quite often drift back. But now it is over fifty years. Memories of my first hand friends are still there. Unfortunately, some of the details that drifted back, twenty years ago, have since drifted away.

My mom kept the letters I sent home. These were tucked away, in an unused upstairs bedroom, of our old farmhouse. These letters are quoted throughout my story and will be identified in italics. Matching up my pictures, taken in Vietnam with the letters has been a very satisfying trip down memory lane.

~ Gerald Fenske 

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