My Review of Hue: 1968 by Mark Bowden

Hue 1968: A Turning Point of the American War in Vietnam by Mark Bowden
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

"Hue: 1968" is a first class account of one of the pivotal battles of U.S. involvement in the Vietnam War. Mark Bowden dissects the battle beautifully, interviewing combatants and civilians from all sides, where they were available, to reconstruct the battle, from the period before hostilities, when the North Vietnamese prepared to enter the city, through the final recapture. He spends an appropriate amount of time on General William Westmoreland's inept handling of the situation, and his misinterpretation of North Vietnamese intentions. The General was so convinced that the North's major target was Khe Sanh that he refused to belief that the Hue attack was anything other than a minor feint. As a result, he discounted reports of heavy enemy strength in Hue, feeding Marine strength in piecemeal. This self delusion ran down the chain of command through the brigade commander level. The result was hundreds more Marine dead than necessary.

Hue was one of THE major battles of the war, fought under the radar of the the American command in Vietnam, and the American public. This book covers the personal stories of over 100 participants, and gives the reader a clear view from ground level.

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Bachelor Buttons

Roadside Bachelor Buttons

Line my route,

I chat with them through the day,

Pedaling a blue path through summer.

Valentines Day – 2017

For My Rose

Wear a smile,

That I can’t see

In the moonless dark.

Do not tell me you love me,

Just wear a white sweater,

While Orion rains stars

Down upon us.

No need to tell me of love,

Just hold my hand,

And help me gaze,

Upward,

Until we kiss,

By the Rose garden,

Under a crystalline sky,

Hand in hand,

Cheek to cheek,

‘Til the end.

Riding Through A Dead Place

On 10 May 16

Homage to the remains of Connecticut

Racing south

Through an aged land,

On a train that can't tell time,

Crumbled rocks that once were foundries,

Skeletons that once were mills,

Now tagged and painted

Bright as clowns,

Mock my childhood memories.

Memories of hosts of men,

And women too,

Who once punched clocks.

They fashioned things,

They loaded trucks,

That now are still,

Rusted out,

Or shipped where they were useful,

To China or Brazil.

A lonely stack

Stands by itself,

In a field of trash,

And crumbs of brick.

On its side a long dead name,

Spelled with care in a long dead time,

Laid into it,

Brick by brick,

By long dead hands,

As if to last

Forever.

Its work has now gone far away,

Its peoples' hearts are stilled,

And now it rests forever cold,

A sentinel to vanished toil.

The pride that built that stack of bricks,

And laid that name so proudly in,

Has vanished with its kiln.

We don't know why the stack was spared,

While the mill was turned to dust,

The stack,

A man made fossil,

Bears witness to another time,

A Proof that once real things were made,

Right here,

Where now they don't make much,

And each day less and less.

God bless the Nutmeg State

That used to be.

Free trade?

It isn't really free.

SHIVA

Mourn me not
Avenge me.
Their children bear their stain
Even yet.
My soul will not sleep,
Until the last knot
Is untied.

14 February 2016

Of all the places you can never touch,

My heart is not one of them,

For it is yours.

I love you,

For who you are.

May our hearts entwine,

‘Til the end of time,

In that special place,

Where lovers kiss,

And no one bothers,

Or notices.

Have you noticed,

Our kisses fill the air,

With smiles?

I seldom notice;

I am too busy kissing you.

Happy Valentine’s Day

To my Favorite Rose,

Your Misch.

A Most Unusual Year

The warm winter rain,

Kisses snowy fields,

Drawing up

White cotton fog.