If you’re American and old enough to remember the Vietnam War, there’s a good chance you have a POW bracelet somewhere in your stash of possessions. I stumbled across mine a couple of months ago while I was looking for something else. Since it adorned my wrist for years (as the wear testified), I remembered the name and date well: Lt. Col. Newk Grubb, 1-26-66.
I always connected Lt. Col. Grubb to my father. Not surprising, I guess, since my father served in Vietnam the year after he was captured–and the date on the bracelet happened to be my dad’s birthday.
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Flash Backs
I have peculiar recollections of the Vietnam War, compared to most. I remember crossing the days off the calendar until my dad came home. I remember going to Newark Airport in my pajamas to greet him upon his arrival–and wondering who that strange man kissing my mom was. I remember living in an apartment filled to the ceiling with boxes of soap collected for Vietnamese orphans. (Local townsfolk had kindly gathered it, forgetting that someone had to pay to ship it–which my Nana eventually did). I remember spending Christmas day roller-skating in the Pentagon when my dad was duty officer. And I remember my father having to go to Dover to identify my cousin, Dominic Scatuorchio, who was shot down in a helicopter in 1970. Continue reading