Maimed, with a piece of him lost forever in Southeast Asia, his uniform a target of spittle, Franks took the pain but never gave in. It was Franks, wearing an artificial leg, the first amputee to serve as an active-duty general since the Civil War, who commanded 1,400 tanks in the main attack against the Iraqis in Desert Storm. For many of those bloodied in the absurdity of Vietnam, the end was not the shameful evacuation atop the embassy roof in what was Saigon 25 years ago today. The final battle was fought in the trackless Arabian desert by warriors who carried the ghost of Vietnam in their rucksacks, warriors who knew firsthand the grim business of killing, bleeding and dying. It may be of no consolation to the 58,202 names on a black granite wall, or to the scores of thousands who were crippled, castrated or emotionally scarred in America's longest war, but because of the carnage and blunders in the most divisive war since Appomattox, the combat casualties, though each individually tragic, were so few in Desert Storm.
Soldiers have a ritual on the eve of battle when they look inside and make peace with themselves.
No need to take excess baggage with you into eternity. Would that we could all exorcise Vietnam. Vietnam was America's black hole. It sucked in lives, souls, such a huge chunk of the public treasury that it brought the economy to its knees. It swallowed our innocence, replacing a blind faith with at minimum a healthy skepticism.