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The Spokesman-Review Newspaper
Spokane, Washington  Est. May 19, 1883

The Books Are Not Closed On Cost Of This War

Sara Hartnett Special To Roundtable

Until recently, I was unaware of who Robert McNamara was. Lately, I have seen him on television, heard him on the radio, and read about him in newspapers and magazines. I now know he is the former secretary of Defense, the “architect” of the Vietnam war, and the author of a book, “In Retrospect: The Lessons and Tragedy of the Vietnam War.”

In his book, McNamara says the war was a mistake and that it was unwinnable. He reached this conclusion early on in the war. “We were wrong, terribly wrong,” he says.

I have strong feelings about this admission.

As a result of the war, the government has determined that my father is 100 percent mentally disabled. My emotional relationship with him is nonexistent.

From what I am told, my father was a normal American young man before going to Vietnam. Upon his return, he was mentally a different person. The government has determined he is too ill to function in society. He was permanently scarred and incapable of adjusting to his surroundings. To this day he is exactly the same, with no recovery in sight.

An average day for him consists of watching television and smoking cigarettes. He is constantly bombarded with thoughts of war with only short pauses of clarity. This is the state of mind he will suffer with for life.

I can vividly recall the first time I met my father. At the age of 12, I was unaware of the horrors of the world.

It was a warm spring afternoon when my mom and I drove to see him. I had been told my father was ill; however, I was completely unprepared to make his acquaintance. As we pulled up in front of his small, wellkept house, I felt overloaded. I cannot recall a time when I felt so nervous and uncomfortable.

I stood on his doorstep examining his mailbox as if it would reveal some clues about who my father was. I waited for him to answer the door, and I was completely amazed to see my own brown eyes staring back at me. I was a near genetic copy of his features.

My father was polite but overwhelmed with excitement and nervousness.

I sat and shared with him for the first time what my life was like.

It was difficult for me to discuss 12 years of my life in such a short time. I talked about swimming, riding my bike, playing with my brother, and what it was like to be a sixth-grader.

In response, my father nervously smoked like a dragon and rambled on about Vietnam. He would blurt out obsessively about how one day he was going to get those bastards!

To this day I am not entirely sure of who he was talking about. As I reflect on the experience, it is funny and sad at the same time.

The time I spent with my father was important to me because I needed to know him. At the same time, it was unfulfilling because he couldn’t relate to me as his child.

My father is truly a kind man surrounded by fear and uncertainty. All of his ambitious plans are consumed by confusion.

I have seen him a handful of times, each encounter consisting of the same basic conversation. My love for him is immense, but dealing with him has been, and is still, the most painful issue in my life.

Overall, I have come to terms with my father’s condition. I still ask: “Why did this have to happen to my dad?”

I would have loved to have the emotional, social, and financial benefits of having a father.

I now know from his book that before my dad was drafted, McNamara admitted the war was unwinnable. But he continued to support Lyndon B. Johnson by acting as his chief architect of war. He called upon thousands of American troops to fight a war that he knew was pointless.

The American people were greatly misled in several ways. The body counts were inflated. There were exaggerated reports of military success and misleading justifications of our involvement. All the while, our troops were not allowed to fight according to standard military principles. The war could have been won, but there was inadequate support for the troops from the president and his gang.

Twenty years later, McNamara claims the war was a mistake. Was my father’s life really destroyed by a mistake?

The Vietnam Memorial now stands in honor of the men who died 20 years ago fighting for their country. The turmoil and pain is still being dealt with by veterans and their families.

MEMO: Sara Hartnett, 20, is a student at Spokane Falls Community College. This column is adapted from an essay she wrote for her English class.

Sara Hartnett, 20, is a student at Spokane Falls Community College. This column is adapted from an essay she wrote for her English class.