SGT John Podlaski, U.S. Army (1970-1971)

What I miss from my time in the service.

Remember when we were younger, we had lots of friends. Although we had our favorites and best friend – it was a crushing blow when our family had to move to another location. We lost that best friend – never to be seen again. However, we met new friends, and with some, a lasting relationship.

When I was in Vietnam, I was assigned to a squad of soldiers in one of the infantry platoons. Although the size should be a dozen or so soldiers, we generally ran with eight soldiers. We spent 24 hours a day with one another and got to know each other rather well. Oftentimes, we shared intricate secrets that we kept to ourselves for many years. Trust was never questioned. Was it possible to have eight besties?

As a tight-knit group, we all suffered the same maladies. We carried, sometimes, unbearable weight on our shoulders, fought the elements, insects, and enemies together, humped through the jungles, and wore ourselves out.  Nobody was different. We took care of one-another to ensure we all made it through the day.

We developed a strong bond. A camaraderie. I would do anything for any of them – as they would do for me. When we visited the firebases or rear areas for a short reprieve, we generally stayed together and kept to ourselves. Eight besties celebrating life.

When one of us was injured, killed, or left the group to go home, it was a sad day. Like a piece of our heart was ripped out. It hurt! The rest of us leaned on one another to make it through the next few days. The support was always there, and none of us could escape into ourselves and abandon the others.  They would not let you!

When it came time for me to leave the group and return home, a new sadness crept into my subconscious. I was not only leaving my eight besties behind; many, I would never hear from or see again, but I was going to miss that togetherness. That camaraderie. I was alone, again.

Over the years, I developed new besties, but the feeling I experienced in Vietnam never returned. That is until 1986 when I joined the Vietnam Veterans of America. I was part of the inaugural Color Guard and am now part of another “squad”. We shared past experiences and developed a close relationship with each other. However, we were all married and had families, so when we parted for the day, we had other responsibilities and priorities. That same level of togetherness and camaraderie with my new VVA squad members was never the same and never will be.

Read the Military Memories of our Runner-Ups.