inyati13
Well-known member
Vietnam kicked America in the guts. I saw my dad cry at the funeral of his youngest sister’s son, Johnny Becker. Johnny was shot down in the helicopter he flew. I watched my brother Henry fly off to Vietnam and I saw mom and dad cry as we walked back to the car.
Tommy Miller was a boy a year older than my brother Henry. He was always in trouble. He gave us our first cigarette to smoke (I never smoked after that, it almost killed me). He was the first one I heard talk ornery. He dropped out of high school. He lived on the farm down the hill from us. He was a woods colt. His Uncle took him to raise. His Uncle was Sheryl Miller (I know that is a female name).
Tommy Miller got drafted. The money he earned in the service he sent to Sheryl and his wife, Serena to save so he could buy a car. Tommy came home on furlough before being sent to Vietnam. He got a ride to the end of the road and was walking back the gravel road to see Sheryl and Serena. The house was empty when he got there. He walked up the hill to our old farm house. He sat down at the table and cried to mom and dad. He said he told Sheryl he was coming home and they were not even there to greet him.
To add insult to injury, Sheryl had spent every penny Tommy had ever sent home. He finished his service and the next time he returned. The first place he came to was our old farm house. I saw him about 5 times after that. He always gave me a beer. He worked as a butcher at a slaughter house in Cincinnati. Then he drove a truck. But he was never sober. I ask dad when I came back to KY in 2010 if he ever heard from Tommy. He said he would come and see them once in a blue moon. He had kidney problems and was on dialysis. He died somewhere up in Ohio is all dad knew.
Tommy Miller was a boy a year older than my brother Henry. He was always in trouble. He gave us our first cigarette to smoke (I never smoked after that, it almost killed me). He was the first one I heard talk ornery. He dropped out of high school. He lived on the farm down the hill from us. He was a woods colt. His Uncle took him to raise. His Uncle was Sheryl Miller (I know that is a female name).
Tommy Miller got drafted. The money he earned in the service he sent to Sheryl and his wife, Serena to save so he could buy a car. Tommy came home on furlough before being sent to Vietnam. He got a ride to the end of the road and was walking back the gravel road to see Sheryl and Serena. The house was empty when he got there. He walked up the hill to our old farm house. He sat down at the table and cried to mom and dad. He said he told Sheryl he was coming home and they were not even there to greet him.
To add insult to injury, Sheryl had spent every penny Tommy had ever sent home. He finished his service and the next time he returned. The first place he came to was our old farm house. I saw him about 5 times after that. He always gave me a beer. He worked as a butcher at a slaughter house in Cincinnati. Then he drove a truck. But he was never sober. I ask dad when I came back to KY in 2010 if he ever heard from Tommy. He said he would come and see them once in a blue moon. He had kidney problems and was on dialysis. He died somewhere up in Ohio is all dad knew.
