From where I stand…

Jonathan Nelson
Special Contributor

I am gay, but the ogre who occupies the White House is attacking more than just the LGBTQI community. He is attacking the non-whites, the “different,” the vulnerable and the voiceless.

And we — our LGBTQ community — is their ally.

So, this is my story:

I was a combat infantry officer in Vietnam. I tell you this not for any “Thank you for your service” comments, but so you know why I feel compelled to speak up and speak out at the travesty that is happening to our country.

I was drafted into the Army after I graduated from college. I didn’t want to go and tried everything I could to get out of serving, but nothing worked. So, there I was — 24, newly married and in training to fight, kill and survive.

I’m going to tell you of an incident of which I rarely speak so you’ll understand.

I was new in country, yet to see any “action,”, when I arrived at district headquarters. As I walked toward the building, in my starched, unsoiled fatigues, carrying my yet-to-be-fired M-16, this captain was approaching me. He was needle thin, with dead eyes and flat expression. He just kept looking at me as he approached — unnerving me.

He stopped me, and I could see a skull-and-crossbones insignia patch on his shoulder. Without smiling or offering any greeting whatsoever, he told me to follow him.

We stopped at his jeep, which had a tarp covering the back seat. Suddenly, with one, swift movement, he threw back the tarp.

There, in the back seat, was a dead Vietnamese soldier. His eyes were still partially open, and his ears had been sliced off as souvenirs, trophies of the kill.

Later I would learn he was a Viet Cong, the enemy. Yet, at that moment, he looked so young, this lifeless boy. A strange feeling came over me, one of profound sorrow at his death. I realized how weird my feeling was. We were at war, and he was the enemy.

And yet…

What I saw during the rest of my tour was a war being lost and the knowledge that the people — farmers, shop keepers and the like — would lose their freedoms. And there was nothing — absolutely nothing — I could do.

I was helpless. And the people of Vietnam lost.

At the end, when my plane ascended from what was then called Saigon, taking me home, I quietly sobbed, so full of anger, rage and sorrow for those I left behind and the futility of it all.

One of the lessons I learned from my time there is how precious life is and how precious, but fleeting, freedom can be. I see what’s being done to our country by this evil viper and his all-too-willing followers, and I know we are in a war for the soul of this country.

We have a Senate and Congress too terrified to cross him. He has, so far, managed to compel the three separate branches of government to his will.

Retribution, revenge, withering freedoms and oppression of the voiceless — these are his overriding goals. The only impediment from him being a dictator is our Constitution, and that may not last.

This country is sick, as sick as the one who occupies the White House.

But I will never give up. I will never give in. Because I remember Vietnam — all of it.

And even if you were not there to remember Vietnam, you shouldn’t ever give up either.