Missing-in-Action: A Case Unresolved (Vietnam War)

Discussion in 'Past Life Memories' started by landsend, Aug 30, 2018.

  1. landsend

    landsend Senior Registered

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    (Continued)
    I sent another email to see if J’s son was available to chat now. He pretty much replied straight away saying that he was available, and then we began to arrange time/date to chat online. In the end, it was that easy.

    We arranged to chat for beginning of December (via text chat). Telephone chat had been an option, but to be honest, the thought of trying to explain myself over the telephone with this very sensitive matter terrified me. I also dislike my voice, and always have done, so I didn’t want him hearing my voice. There is an element of – embarrassment – of who I am, now. I guess that’s probably all in my head, but still. Explaining myself via text is a lot easier for me. I actually pre-planned what I was going to say on a piece of paper. It was important to not mess up. Talking via chat had the added benefit that we would have a transcript of the conversation to look back on/share.

    We talked online four days before J’s birthdate. It was a year on from first opening to all this.

    I did not sleep the night before, had some Dutch courage to help me along on the day. I was nervous as heck, even if it was just a text chat. I couldn’t quite believe what I was doing. I mean, it felt like I’d been waiting a long, long time to talk to him. And I’m not just talking about the past year. It’s hard to rationalise the feeling.

    The conversation went pretty well. I told him the truth as I knew it, without bombarding him. That I’d had a series of vivid ‘dreams’ following finding his dad’s case, one of which was his dad’s wedding day.

    He told me my perceptions of the wedding didn’t seem far off, and asked me me to relay it to him again, which I did. The details of the dress, the pregnancy, the brother being his best man/in the Navy, and finally his dad feeling overwhelmed to the point he appeared to faint/feel faint. That it all appeared to me in Dec 2016, a year ago.

    I also relayed my subsequent research to him, including the dates I found the newspaper clippings (April and June 2017).

    He told me in return that his mother was pregnant with himself at the time of the wedding, and that his dad’s brother was in the Navy and probably his best man. He also said there probably would have been a lot of emotions at the wedding, considering the circumstances. He didn’t have any knowledge if his dad collapsed at the alter or not. Considering I was unsure of that part too, I was curious to see what happened there.

    I sent him the photograph of the wedding dress I’d found in a newspaper clippings so he could see how my perceptions matched. Also noted that I’d found in the same clipping mentioned that his dad’s brother was his best man. He mentioned to me that his dad’s brother had passed away some of years ago now, but he had mentioned the wedding event briefly to him after they reconnected. They kept in touch then until his uncle passed away.

    He admitted that it all matched and was pretty amazing. Then, naturally, he got curious about these other dreams I’d had.

    I had to explain to him then that the reason I’d looked into the Vietnam war in the first place was due to two dreams I’d received (the shooting dream of 2007 & the panic attack I’d undergone in 2012). Then I explained that these dreams, and others I’d received since could possibly pertain to his father, too. I said then that I’d written them all up in a document, and could send them to him. They totalled, at that time, about 39. I think he was pretty flabbergasted at that. But he wanted to see the document. I was waiting for his approval before sending the doc, and there it was.

    So, we left the conversation at that. I promised to send him the doc, and we agreed to meet virtually again and chat about it in a weeks time.
     
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  2. landsend

    landsend Senior Registered

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    (Continued)

    After talking to J’s son, I was left feeling like I’d been run over by a freight train. Pretty intense, to say the least. And well, I’d promised to send that document to him, so there was no backing out now.

    I sent it, and heard nothing from him for a week. I had no clue what he thought of all that I’d chronicled. Again was incredibly nervous to talk to him. I mean for all I knew what I’d chronicled to him was absolute nonsense – maybe even offensive. On the flip side, maybe some of it had truth. I’m not sure what terrified me more. On one hand, if it was just drivel, my mind could say gloat and say, see, told you, you’re just a complete whacko, time to go see the shrink. On the other hand, if some of the things were real, or did pertain to real events then – well, I didn’t even think about how that might affect me.

    So, we talked as planned, a week on. He revealed to me he’d shared the document with his sister. Great. He’d also been talking to his mother. Even better. (My heart was thumping so hard when I heard him say these things – it seems his mother was still living, and he’d discussed this with her).

    I was feeling a bit embarrassed by it all. What was chronicled in the document was intensely personal, even after making it as impersonal as possible. It was kinda like revealing your diary to the world. But I had to put those personal feelings to one side just to get to the bottom of this.

    He confessed his mother’s memory wasn’t what it used to be, and she had repressed a lot of those early memories. He said she didn’t recall her groom collapsing at the altar. I believe that. It’s not something you would just forget. I wasn’t sure on the collapsing, so I guess it was an internal feeling more than an external event. Funny in this life I was terrified too of collapsing on my wedding day… but we were given seats during the ceremony.

    Other things, he said, stood out in the doc I’d sent to him.

    All in all I think there was about six or seven things he could confirm for me because they related to him/his childhood. He pretty much confirmed all of these things related to real events.

    Here’s a few of those from the original document – with my recall, vs. the real event:


    Knife Incident

    • My recall: I recalled that once, the eldest son had gotten a hold of his dad’s knife, and had cut his hand/finger. I remember his face being so red, he was crying hysterically, and his sister being there and crying hysterically. I couldn't figure out why the parents weren't watching him at the time, and why or how he had gotten a hold of this knife. I saw this recall over and over, a little boy holding his hand like he’d cut it. I tried to figure out why – was he outside playing in the dirt? I tried to see how he’d gotten the knife. Had he gone through the cupboards and found it? I couldn’t figure it out, how he would have gotten it. I just presumed he’d known of a place his dad kept a knife, considering I don’t believe his dad would have left one lying around.

    • I also didn't know where the other boy (the baby) was. I figured that his parents had been arguing at the time, which is why they hadn't been watching them -- there was a sense of an argument. The strong point was he got a hold of his dad’s knife, he cut himself, his sister was there, parents were not present, and there was an argument that followed blaming (his dad) for leaving a knife within reachable distance. Lots of guilt and blaming.

    • Correlations: There was an incident with a knife when he (the eldest son) was about five years old. He cut his finger, trying to close the knife up (must have been a switchblade). His mom and dad were not present. His mom had gone to pick up his dad from the nearby base at the time, and had taken his baby brother with her. So both parents were not present, and their baby brother was not in the house. His sister was at home with him at the time. He recalls getting a hold of the knife from a cupboard, playing with it (inside the house), cutting himself, trying to bandage himself up, and his parents coming back and finding him a bloody mess. He says it was his dad's knife. He doesn't recall what happened afterwards, but he suspects that an argument was not out of question.
    Metal Chopper / Final Deployment

    • My recall: I recall the eldest son sitting on his dad’s knee, it was around Christmas time. He had something in his hand, or his dad was showing him something. He had the biggest smile as his dad showed him what appeared to be a die-cast chopper (an AH-1G), which was a replica of the one J had trained to fly. J was showing him the parts, pointing to him where the guns and rockets were.

      I also had another memory, which I adjoined to this one, which was of his dad sitting at a desk and gluing the parts of a model together -- a plane, or an helicopter. I didn't know if I his dad had given this model to his son as a present, perhaps as a Christmas present.

    • Finally also had this image of the two boys running around the (very big) dining table in the kitchen/diner with helicopters in their hands (I've not mentioned that to the son as of yet, so unsure of the accuracy).

      Next, I'm aware that J and his family are saying Grace at the table. They are having what feels like a final meal before he was deployed. The feeling between J and his wife is icy, and very formal. There's tension in the air.

    • Correlations:

    • Before his dad deployed for the final time to Vietnam, J’s son recalls staying up late to put together some models with his dad. Before deploying, his dad pointed to a box in the closet which contained a model airliner that he had put together for him for his birthday (which was in January).

      The son confirmed there was tensions before his dad deployed in Dec 1968.

      The son also inherited a model replica diecast AH-1G helicopter that belonged to his father. He believes that his dad had two such models, one of which he took with him on his final deployment to Vietnam.

    Girl with Pigtails / Boy with Cowboy outfit

    • My recall:
      I recalled a little girl of about five sporting pigtails, a full fringe and a blue dress with a lace round collar that had white detailing. The little girl seemed to have a small animal or teddy in her hands. She was asking her dad ‘Daddy, daddy, when are you coming home?’ And he told her joking that he was already home.

      I also had an impression of one of the boys dressed in a cowboy outfit, seeing his whole face light up in a smile wearing a cowboy hat, and having two toy pistols and holsters. I recalled that he had blonde hair*, big blue eyes, and he reminded me of my present son (but his face was different, and my son never had a dress up cowboy outfit).

    • Correlations:
      The daughter confirmed that she wore her hair frequently in pigtails, and that they (both the boys) had cowboy outfits. They provided a photograph where the youngest boy was smiling, dressed up in a cowboy outfit, with pistols and holsters and cowboy boots. But the boys did not have blonde hair.

      *The blonde hair – I thought I’d merged this detail with my present son, who does have blonde hair. But possibly relates to something that I had seen since (Sep 2018).

    Other confirmations from that second conversation included impressions I had from very early childhood – that J’s dad was drinking liquor from a glass and listening to music. J’s son said that his grandfather and his wife did enjoy having an after work cocktail. And there was a memory of the family playing together in snow – J’s son said that his sister recalled an incident like that.

    There was one memory that bothered me a lot, that J did not mention in that second conversation. It was not a pleasant memory. It involved J’s wife, and their relationship following his dad coming back from his first tour of Vietnam. There was details of the house the family lived in/owned that I wanted to touch on, but we did not discuss that issue in that conversation.
     
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  3. landsend

    landsend Senior Registered

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    (Continued)

    Now J’s son wanted to know more about my recollection of the capture of his dad. Considering what I’d seen regarding family life was pretty accurate, reason says that some of what I’d seen regarding his dad’s capture could be accurate, too.

    And, he asked the million dollar question. Why did I think this was all coming to me, considering I had no prior connections to Vietnam war, or his family? He wanted to know if I’d also had these impressions about other people, too, or just his dad.

    I tried to explain, very gently, that I couldn’t logically explain it, and that this had only happened with his father. That I could connect the memories of his father even before I’d known of his case.

    I didn’t want to mention the R word. After all, I didn’t know what beliefs they held, and didn’t want to place my viewpoint on them. Most of all, I did not want to claim I had once been their father in another life. It was just not my place to claim anything. I felt I just had to explain what I had seen and experienced. I did not expect the family to reach the same conclusion as me, that I had once lived as their father. That was not the main reason I’d contacted them. I really, deeply, just wanted to help resolve their father’s missing-in-action case. If sharing what I knew helped do that, and helped resolve some of those long held feelings of wondering what had happened to him, then I had gone above and beyond my goal.

    Also there was another factor in this. It wasn’t just personal. It was about the MIA/POW issue following the Vietnam war. If what I was seeing was true, then, it shows that men were left behind following the war. The government lied to get out of Vietnam as quickly as possible. And some of those men that survived the Communist takeover may have been sent on, some to Eastern bloc countries, and then repatriated to the US.

    But I still had my question. The question I’d asked waking up all those years ago from that dream, holding my side. Seeing my birthmark. Why was I shot?

    Had I tried to get the truth out, and had it gone horribly wrong? Or was it something equally unfortunate, but more 'innocent'?

    I thought I’d answered ‘who’ I was. But then, if I came back to the US in a witness type protection program, then, who, really, was I that day I was shot?

    At this point I couldn't believe those things I'd seen regarding coming back to the US. But it never answered those questions, and didn't answer why that dream had come to me before all of this had occurred. In fact, I realise, if I had not had that dream back then, but rather had it later, I would not believe it. It would be a whole lot easier to dismiss.
     
    Last edited: Sep 21, 2018
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  4. There and back again

    There and back again Senior Member

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    My opining about this country will forever be jaded but chances are that by coming here you won't be noticed nor will this Orwellian government even care as much worse has been exposed over the decades and even recently there has been trickles in the news about ongoing biological weapons research being conducted by the US in other nations. You don't have much to worry about other than the usual travel issues and potential family drama but nothing too bad.
     
  5. landsend

    landsend Senior Registered

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    Be that as it may, US gov has kept a tight lid on this issue throughout the years. They have their reasons for doing so, some of which are undisclosed for the likes of me and you. They practically waited for this issue to die a natural death. Yet, the families of those who are missing are the ones who suffer for not knowing.

    If the government has some answers to some missing men, why not release the info now?

    Take into account some of those who created a smokescreen are still there, still benefiting from the truth of this issue being buried. Some of them are prominent politicians. One recently passed on and was in the news even here, hailed a war hero. If the truth had come fully out, pretty sure he would not have held such a highly regarded position.

    Like the war in Vietnam, most folks want to just ignore the issue and pretend it never happened. But it did happen.

    At the moment I’m receiving fragments that there may be a potential way of proving my previous self came back to US. It’s early days though and still trying to verify that info/put together the fragments. I’m just beginning to accept he did come back.

     
    Last edited: Oct 3, 2018
  6. landsend

    landsend Senior Registered

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    Part Thirteen

    Talking to J’s son left me feeling very strange. It was a combination of emotions. Grief, pain, shame, mixed with a sense of relief and joy at being able to reconnect and resolve the issue at hand. Mostly I felt a lot of shame. Shame at having left that life unresolved, and shame at who I am presently. Of course this was all internal. Perhaps in some ways I was and am still punishing myself for what happened in that life. As for my present life shame – part of that relates to my being born female. I wasn’t even aware just how ashamed and at odds with having been born in this body and situation I was until I started talking with J’s son. But these were old feelings, stemming back to my childhood. The teenage feelings I had of being dropped into a foreign body, and country started to make more sense. It is, at its core, a state of denial and displacement of who I am now.

    We continued to arrange to chat every so often to discuss some of the more intimate and personal details of my recollections. We also discussed details of his dad’s case to see if, and how my recollections lined up with the case details. After a while, J’s son mentioned to me reincarnation as an answer to why I was receiving all this info, and why I seemed so intimately connected despite us not having any family connection. He sent me a radio show discussing Bob’s Snow’s case of a policeman who recalled the life of artist Carol Beckwith. I’d heard of that case before, but not looked too deeply into it. Well, after that conversation, I opened up to him and told him that I can pinpoint many of these feelings further back, back to my teenage years and childhood. I told him that reincarnation was the explanation that I also felt was most likely. He had discussed this with his sister and his mother, and they both agreed with that conclusion. I found that surprising, considering the Catholic upbringing(s) – but it also was a bit of a relief to hear. I did not want to cause the family any offence, or any strife. It was one of my major worries, hence why I did not feel right to impose my feelings about reincarnation on them until it was mentioned to me by them.

    One of the things that bothered me the most from my recollections was the rocky relations I saw between J and his wife, especially following J’s return from his first tour of Vietnam.

    One of the most intense reoccurring memories was of seeing J return home, presumably after being out and getting drunk. It appeared he may have been away for some time. Below I’ll detail aspects of the memory, and then detail correlations of the memory that I’ve been able to confirm via the son. This memory was one of the first memories I received in December 2016.

    23 Dec 2016
    I am in between tours ‘Stateside’. This is somewhere South.
    I’d been drinking out somewhere, on my own. Inside my car, it’s a more modern car than the one I’ve seen before (in the wedding memory). It’s got a long shape, more boxy in appearance, unsure about the colour but the steering wheel appeared a beige colour.
    I pull up on the curb outside the place we were staying. I’m so drunk I should not be driving. It’s evening, still daylight. Maybe around midday, 5 o’clock. The house is a one story bungalow. My feelings were that it was not the best place, not too big, but there was room for the kids. The street was otherwise quiet, with houses of a similar description. Sub-urban. The front drive was long, room for one car despite me not parking on the drive (perhaps because J had been drinking he could not focus enough to park on the drive). The drive as I walked up it had a very slight slope, grass to the right side. There is a side entrance that leads to the kitchen, and you could walk round to the yard from the side.

    I question why I was out drinking when it appeared early. There’s pain there. Feelings that someone, perhaps another serviceman, had died during the war. Whatever it is, it’s too painful to think about, hence why I turned to drink for comfort. There was a feeling of absolute loneliness, despair. Numbness.
    I walk up the long driveway, and enter the house via the kitchen side door. I guess that’s because I felt guilty having been gone, and having been drinking. When I enter the kitchen I see my wife. Think she may have already seen me approaching since she was not surprised to see me. At first, she ignores me. She’s wearing a white sheath dress with a geometric pattern,the pattern has a bold black outline of triangles filled with block colours. She may have been at a table in the kitchen, it looked like a small square linoleum table in the kitchen area. The expression on her face is of person severely depressed.

    The kitchen/diner was open plan. The kitchen led through to another room, which I assumed was used as the dining room. The ambience of the place looks brown in colour, dim, as if we had blinds or net curtains and wood panelling on the walls. The general ambience adds to the depressing oppressive feeling that’s been building up. The tension is so thick you could cut a knife with it.

    Finally, she says something, or I do. Either way, an argument ensures, a heated argument. I’m unsure to the extent of this argument, but all I saw that it wasn’t pretty and the kids may have been present to witness it. I see a dining area with a big dominating wooden table and chairs. I’m not sure if this a memory of this house, or a different house and if I’m mixing the two memories of different houses and different drunken arguments. I was having trouble controlling the anger when drunk. I’m repressing all my experiences of war with drink. I’m not even sure how much the kids saw, and how much happened behind closed doors.


    Whatever happened, either thoughts of things that J wanted to do, or real events that he did do under a drunken stupor, I’m deeply ashamed to witness in the present. It was clear to me J needed help, but what help was available then? Aside to the fact that J was too proud to ever admit or ask for help, there was no such thing as post-traumatic stress disorder in the 60’s.
    I plucked up the courage to ask J’s son about the details of this imagery, considering he had ignored it in our previous conversation. He confirmed to me that he could relate that imagery to a series of incidents. He also confirmed that his fathers and mothers marriage was turbulent.

    In other conversations, we discussed the house. The house my recollection seemed to pertain to was the property the family lived in the longest, and which they owned. That was the general feeling I had since I had felt the location was in that area. J’s son sent me the address of the place so I could check it out for myself.

    We discussed the house. It was a single story house, with a long frontage, grass to the right side, a space to park at the front. You could get to the yard from the front. The kitchen was open plan, a kitchen diner.
    I asked if there was a side entrance, considering I had seen his dad enter via a door to get to the kitchen. He was not sure on that detail at the time, but I insisted that’s what I had seen. After inquiring with his mother she said there had been a side entrance that led through the garage, and from the garage there was a door that led to the kitchen.

    I also mentioned the wood panelling. He wasn’t sure on that, but it wasn’t out of question. As for the dominating wooden table, again, his mother confirmed they did own a big dominating table such as that.
    The son had trouble remembering how the house had been, since the family had lived some time there after his father’s disappearance and they had remodelled parts of it (the kitchen/garage).

    Sometime later I googled the house and saw it was up for rent so could check out photos for myself. Sure enough could see there was a door in the kitchen that probably led to the garage, the door was in the part of the kitchen I had envisioned myself entering (the upper left corner). The kitchen was open plan and led to another room which was probably now used as a dining/living area. And the walls had been painted white, but you could see the unmistakable lines of wood panelling underneath.

    My perception of the house seemed to check out.

    13840772-rental-1f2sjgw-o.jpg

    Kitchen w/ side door to garage/utility and wood panelling.


    13840772-rental-1slbw5c-o.jpg

    Front aspect of house, drive and grass to side.
     
    Last edited: Oct 7, 2018
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  7. landsend

    landsend Senior Registered

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    (Continued)


    Many months later (and recently), I had several visions during meditation that detailed further the aspects of J and his wife’s marriage. What I saw would have been one of the main reasons for the arguments. I pretty much dismissed this, because I was not happy with what I saw. I also had been in terrible mood prior to seeing the imagery, I was in one of my low periods, hence why I felt the need to meditate. The visions were basically outlining the extents of J’s infidelity. Other aspects involved the manner in which he committed these acts of infidelity. But I was able to confirm one of these visions. I mentioned it to the son because I recall him saying one of these incidents had occurred at someone else’s house – and I saw that the children were present to witness what happened.

    4 Jun 2018
    I see myself walking into a diner, a local place, somewhere in the town I live with my wife and kids. This is again in between tours, sometime after the first tour of Vietnam. I know this because I’m wearing my stateside uniform, possibly even my beret. I was not ashamed of who I was, and down here in the South most folks are accepting of the war. But I didn’t care if they were or not. I wore my uniform with pride.

    As I walk into the diner, a waitress looks at me. Recognition flashes on her features. She’s a very pretty woman, with brown curly hair, blue eyes. She looks a bit like the singer ‘Loretta Lynn’, and I associate that name with her, either because Loretta is her name, or she just looks very much like her. She stops doing whatever she was doing and runs up to me to embrace me.

    She pulls back, and tells me she hasn’t seen me in such a long time. Presumably she means before Vietnam. So it seems that this woman is known to me from before. I’m not sure how long before. She asks me how I am, how have I been.
    I’m unsure about the extent of my feelings for this woman, but I do find her attractive. Either way, we plan to meet later that day when she gets off work. I say to her that I’d come by her place later.

    Later, I pull up outside her place. It’s a one story house with a long front/drive, and there appears to be trees and bushes around the back. The feeling I get is that the house is in a similar area to where I live, but far enough away not to rouse suspicions. I also do not know if this woman is also married, but her husband is out. Considering the house looked like a typical family home, it seemed likely.
    I go inside the house, and well, you can imagine the rest. Except, during, or perhaps after the act, someone starts knocking on the front door, pretty frantically too. Then she starts calling, can hear her voice muffled but hysterical through the door, even here in the bedroom. It’s my wife. She’s calling my name and telling me she knows that I’m in here.

    Well, I rush to get dressed. I tell Loretta to hide (how ironic, he who did not want to hide, now telling her to hide?) but she says she has nothing to hide. I have this impression of looking through the bedroom door, down a hallway to the front door. Could see the impression of my wife – maybe there was frosted glass, or a blinds in the window I could look through?

    Either way, I could see that she had parked on the drive. I could not understand how she had gotten here, considering I had taken the car. So I assume she borrowed someone’s car to get here, and, what’s more, she had bought the kids in tow. They were in the back of the car.

    And I was pretty furious that she’d done that, that she had bought the kids along. There was so much anger that I envisioned what I could do if I opened the door to her. It wasn’t pretty. I’m not sure if I did do that, or if I just imagined it.


    The guilt and thoughts and anger of this imagery forced my present self to open my eyes.

    I did not write that down straight away. I dismissed it, and then, following discussing it with my husband, decided to force myself to write it down.
    Later, in conversation with the son, I decided to bring it up, just in case it had any truth to it. I was honestly not sure. I wasn’t sure I wanted there to be any truth to it. But I was sure the son would know about it, considering in the vision he was in the back of the car. And I felt I needed to know the truth of what happened.

    Well, I relayed the events to him, including the thoughts/imagery of what happened if his dad had opened the door. It seems that an event like this did indeed happen. Their mother had found a note with an address on it (presumably in an article of their dad’s clothing?). So she borrowed a car, and drove to the address with the kids in the back of the car. The house was one story, and had a long drive. Their mother had then got out, and knocked frantically on the door, hysterically calling for their dad to show himself. But, their dad did not show himself. Apparently the woman came to the door eventually, and, according to the son, their dad went out the back and ran off to hide.

    I could see why J would do that. If no one saw him, he could deny he was ever there at all. And retaliating with anger was not the best thing to do. But still, in my present eyes, it was cowardly. It was an act of betrayal, and the least he could’ve done is own up to it and face the consequences. But of course, life’s never so black and white. Everyone needs loving sometimes, and, considering how things were between J and his wife, love was not at the forefront of their marriage.

    I can see that J was suppressing so many things. It’s difficult to articulate, even now with a lifetime in between. Perhaps I’m still in denial.
     
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  8. landsend

    landsend Senior Registered

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    Cars and other curiosities
    -----------------------------

    Sometime later me and J’s son were discussing another aspect of these visions, which was of his dad’s love of cars. If you recall, I’d seen the car in the memory of the wedding, and also, I had just the general feeling of this car – way back, before I’d even read about J’s case. The car I saw was red, possibly with a white panel. It seemed to have that combination of those colours, anyway. It was retro looking, I didn’t know the make but assumed it may have been a Chevy (a 1950’s Chevy – similar to the Chevy Bel-air). My knowledge of American cars of any era is lacking and Chevy was one of the few brands I knew from the various movies and songs etc. I had the feeling that J had this car back when he started dating his wife-to-be, and possibly before. He was very fond of that car.

    Talking with the son he confirmed that his dad did have a car that he had tricked out when he was younger. He wasn’t sure how it was, but his sister managed to find a photograph and identified it as a 1954 Buick Roadmaster. It was most likely red (picture is black & white), and it has a white side panel. The son recalls that it was red.
    1956_chevrolet_bel_air-pic-8787325356275187825.jpeg IMG_2565.JPG
    What I'd narrowed the car down to ['56 Chevy Belair] vs. What the car actually was [ '54 Buick Roadmaster ]
     
    Last edited: Oct 21, 2018
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  9. landsend

    landsend Senior Registered

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    I also saw another car, a more angular car which came later, I assume he traded in the 50’s model for something more modern and functional with the kids. I had no idea what type of car that was either, but thought it looked a bit like a Chevy Impala. Colour of this one was more ambiguous, I saw the steering wheel was a beige colour, outside seemed to have a metallic look, it was a dark colour, sometimes seemed an orange/gold shade, but I wasn’t sure. I think it depended on the light how it looked, it was that sort of paintwork.

    As for the second car, the son confirmed that his dad did trade in the Buick for something more practical. In this case it was a Ford ‘63 Galaxie. It was a pretty angular looking car, but still quite sporty and attractive. The son relayed that this car was most likely a burgundy shade. Again the photo he sent me was black and white.
    1963-chevrolet-impala-4-door-4.jpg fordgalaxie.jpg
    Left: What I narrowed the car to ['63 Chevy Impala] Right: What the car actually was ['63 Ford Galaxie]

    This memory of the car dates way back to my childhood. When I was very young I had a recurrent fantasy of driving around a retro-looking red car. I would often think about it when waking up. I used to think that I’d like to drive a car like that when I was older. It’s quite possible I was tapping into these memories from my life as J.

    On a further note relating to my childhood. I managed to acquire a photo of me doing my little march (I'm about 2 years old in this photograph -- out of shot is my mother and Aunt looking at me strutting away -- I was looking at them in photo). I looked up US Army regulations for marching. My arms appear relaxed with hand cupped and thumbs pointing downward. Heel hitting the ground first, and alternating legs/arms. The distancing for the legs/arms for US Army seems about right, too, but then I'm no expert so may be wrong there. I recall doing this whenever out and about with family on longer walks, but it was not every time we were out walking. When it did occur, I'd go off into my own little world, and marching was quite natural for me to do. I grew out of the habit as the years went by, along with my other curious habits, such as singing the country songs and also recalling the red car.

    marching1.JPG
    Me... two yrs old, marching
     
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  10. glia21

    glia21 explorer21

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    Hi landsend,
    I have a great interest in your story and want to thank you for sharing it. Your experiences have some similiarities to mine since in contrast to my PL I´m also born female this time, have three kids and live in a foreign country. I did have a yearning to meet my PL son J from an early age on, so I´m eager to read about your conversations with J´s son. This will not happen to me but I´m glad it turns out so right for you :)
    I have not much time right now, but will write later.
    Keep on writing!
     
  11. landsend

    landsend Senior Registered

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    Glia,

    Thanks for the message. Would like to hear more about your experiences, too. The matter of contacting family members is a sensitive issue, done largely on my part for the reason that things were left so unresolved. It is one of the oddest sensations, and definitely not for the faint hearted. Brings up many, many repressed feelings to say the least.
     
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  12. landsend

    landsend Senior Registered

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    Just want to note something here before continuing with the posts. A vivid dream I had last night prompted me to recall this. Since I can remember and growing up (from a young child up until I was a teenager), I would have recurrent thoughts about a nuclear war. I would sit and fantasise for long periods of time about what would happen if a nuclear bomb was to fall where I was. The aspects of these fantasises were very detailed, I'd reflect on how there would be nothing left, how we would effectively feel nothing, visions of bodies and skeletons disintegrating to dust -- in one moment it could all be gone. I'd feel the fear about 'the bomb' dropping on me, on all of us, and feel the anticipation of the threat. As a child, I recall this Albert Einstein quote leaving a lasting impression: 'I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones.'

    I discussed this recently in conversation with my husband. I thought that these were quite normal thoughts, and thought that perhaps other people would think these thoughts, too. Not so... at least not for my generation (I was a 90s child), and being born in Europe makes it that little bit more odd. It's only in discussing it with my husband that I realised that these thoughts could correlate to the past, specifically my previous life as 'J'.

    When I was trying to locate 'J's identity, one of the reoccurring images was myself sitting at some sort of primitive computer, with lots of dials, lights. I was, at the time, very dismissive of what I was seeing because at that point I was getting so much information that I thought couldn't possibly all correlate to one person.

    In my research of 'J', I came across the following. 'J' joined the Army in 1958, after graduating highschool. This was during the Cold War, when the threat of nuclear warfare was very real (as outlined in the brilliant movie by Kubrick 'Dr. Strangelove'). Back then, there was no such thing as ICBMs (Intercontinental Ballistic Missiles), to drop a nuke, you had to send huge bomber planes. In my research, I've discovered that America had a nuclear threat system in place. It was sort of like an hierarchy where they would try to shoot the bombers out of the sky before they reached mainland US. They had radars strategically placed and manned by personnel, that would send out a warning if a threat was perceived. This warning would be sent to all the missile bases across US/Canada.
    The bases across the US were usually strategically placed to be near big cities and populous areas, or areas that they perceived the Russians would target.
    The missile bases across the US were really the last resort. If any of the planes got through, they would be the last ones to stop a nuclear bomb from falling and causing outright destruction.

    Well, turns out that 'J' in the early 60s worked on one of these missile bases as a specialist. This was before he trained to be an officer. I've asked the son to see if he knows exactly what his dad was doing on the base, but he doesn't know unfortunately. From what I've read, it seems these bases held NIKE missiles and utilised radar technology. The radar technology was run by computers which were sophisticated for the times. The bases were split into three parts -- an area for the missiles/radar technology, and a barracks for the personnel.

    'J' met his wife in the town where the base was located, and they went on to purchase the family home there. He also was deployed to Germany in 61 to a missile base there which had a similar purpose.
     
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  13. glia21

    glia21 explorer21

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    Landsend, I envy you for your ability to talk to your husband about all of this. I´m married since more than 10 years now and I keep on telling myself to speak about it the very next day but although something pushes me to do so I never do it. Like you, I´m a bit traumatized from remembering. I had a hard time when I was in my early teens, not only trying to fit into my gender but also feeling a lot like an outcast and living in a hostile environment. I only kind of adapted in my early 20ies and today my life works quite good but the flashes/glimpses/flashbacks/dreams never stopped.
    And by now I don´t want them to, I want to solve the puzzle! :cool:

    I have had a thread on the main topics so I don´t want to repeat myself, but I want to let you know that in my PL I also changed my identity when I was in my early 30ies and lived a different life where I had to keep quiet about certain events. I´m not so good at keeping my mouth shut, I´ve never been unfortunately :rolleyes:

    I used to have a "loop" memory for more than 20 years now where I sit in a car in a suburban area and watch a house. I know my ex-wife´s in there, her name is Helen, and my teenage son J and her new husband and little girl. At this point I imagine to go in. They are eating dinner. There are many many variations of this, I´ve written down a dozen short stories of what would have happened if I had entered. I would certainly not have been welcome. I wrote down what I`d have said, what they`d have said … but I think it never happened - I drove on and I died soon after. I see myself losing control of the car. Anyway, something else happened in between and I can´t figure out what it was. That´s haunting me.
     
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  14. glia21

    glia21 explorer21

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    btw nuclear war was nothing I feared much, being a child of the late 80ies, 90ies. ;)
    I was only a bit concerned about the yugoslavia civil war since I lived nearby. :eek:
     
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  15. landsend

    landsend Senior Registered

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    Glia

    Thanks for your message. I had a read through your thread, and found it interesting, and helpful. I can see a correlation between us, I also think my past self may have been on the run at the end of his life. At least I recall him feeling paranoid and keeping a loaded gun on the passenger seat, as well as constantly checking the side mirrors whilst driving to see if he was being followed.

    Well, in the respect of telling partners it was pretty easy for me. I told him about my past life dream of being shot in the second message I sent to him (we met online ten years ago now). So he’s always known about my past life. He’s open about all these subjects and has had experiences with past life memories too. We have mutual memories of one life that we both had prior to meeting each other and which correlated.

    You could try testing the waters first with your husband, just seeing what he thinks of the subject and go from there. You may be surprised by his response. Having someone to talk about it helps a lot. My husband has been an invaluable source of support throughout this whole ordeal.
     
  16. There and back again

    There and back again Senior Member

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    I've experienced the same when it comes to out of place thought patterns growing up having went through a couple of phases where oddly it was like a rehash of the old debate of communism like how it was with the revolution then it all changed over into a Nazi phase that lasted for a couple of years then faded away. Will have to say that it is never normal for someone in the eighth grade back in the 2000s to be concerned with book burnings, censorship, and persecution ect but there I was like it was a glitch in the matrix.
     
  17. landsend

    landsend Senior Registered

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    Part Fourteen – Captivity, Abandonment - The True Cost of Freedom

    The next posts are going to outline where I am at currently. So far, I’ve tried to be as forefront and frank about how this whole experience has unfolded, and how it has affected my current life. It’s not been an easy journey by any means, and it is one that I’m still undergoing. Although at times reluctant, the journey does feel necessary to me, it is a journey I’ve been waiting to undergo for much of my life. I suffer daily with an underlying depression, one that ebbs and peaks, but nevertheless remains. I suppose that restless feeling that started me on this journey remains, as of this date of writing. At times it can be excruciating, and stops me from functioning properly in my daily life. It’s the main reason I am trying to resolve this with an urgency. I do not want to live the rest of this life feeling so unresolved, nor the next.

    It has become apparent to me that finding out the fate of John requires a full investigation in the into MIA/POW issue there in America. There may not be written evidence for what happened to John, and indeed, things may even be covered up and buried till they are forgotten about by all the people who are asking questions. I can see how, over time, this has come to be a sad but true fact. The movement that was pushing for answers throughout the 80s/90s has now reduced to a few polished websites. I have had to go back in time to web archives to find some information.

    For now, I refuse to lay down arms and say that I won’t find some evidence. I think there is evidence out there. My memories of John may be the key.

    As I dig, I have found some very odd correlations where people have said and reported things that present me thought impossible when I witnessed them as John. The question I’ve been asking myself now is how can I have seen this information, and then found at least 5 or 6 other sources saying the exact same thing? How can they all be wrong, considering these people have not banded together and decided to create some conspiracy theory, and considering this information has not come from crackpots, but from high ranking defected Generals, and other reliable sources all separate from each other?

    Perhaps the real conspiracy here not if men were left behind following America’s withdrawal from Vietnam, but that there have been people out there, including prominent political figures, who tried to debunk the whole matter as a conspiracy theory. The increasingly stark truth being revealed to me is that America withdrew to save face, no matter the cost.

    That then begs the question: What exactly happened to John, and the men left behind?
     
    Last edited: Nov 2, 2018
  18. landsend

    landsend Senior Registered

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    Post-capture memories

    To begin to understand what happened, I have to go back to the memories of the capture and subsequent captivity, and John’s case files available on the Library of Congress POW/MIA archives. I’ve had many fragments of memories, spanning from Dec 2016, up until now. I’ll focus on the ones that relate to the case files, and other correlations I’ve found through archives, books and media articles.

    First of all, the crash. John crashed during a rocket run on enemy bunkers located high up a mountainous area of Thua Thien province, Vietnam. According to after action reports and fellow ARA (Aerial Rocket Artillery) crewmates, the day was foggy, the weather marginal, forcing the pilots that day to flow precariously low. John was apparently manning the gunner position, having switched places with his co-pilot at a refuel. They came in for the rocket run, when his co-pilot reported losing control of the cyclic. The next thing he knew, John’s co-pilot woke up on the jungle floor in considerable pain. His left leg was badly mangled. There was no sign of John.

    Back in 2012 I had a spontaneous flashback that resulted in an horrific panic attack. In the flashback, I was above a dense jungle area, the jungle appeared on fire, and there was smoke/fog in the air when I began to have the sensation of spinning out of control, followed by pure, unadulterated fear. At the time I did not relate this to a shoot down incident. I had no clue what was going on. I did not even perceive I was in an helicopter, at the time, even though I had a birds-eye view of the jungle below.

    bachmamountainrange.jpeg
    Densely forested mountain range in area of chopper crash

    Seeing what happened next is equally confusing, and panic inducing. It has come back to me a couple of times since, most strongly in Dec 2016, and then again in May 2017. I recalled the moment before the shoot down. Certain numbers kept being repeated, he seemed to be talking over the radio relaying those numbers. The actual crash is a blur – did he pass out in this moment? There’s sheer panic, then ‘coming to’ in the cockpit. It was ever increasing panic from then on. It was also hyper alertness, where every single second counted. There is a vividness to the imagery, and also a black tar that seems to seep around me when I recall the imagery. Panic rises through me, it’s tangible in my head. A sick feeling cripples me. Then there was an awareness of one of his legs, the left leg, an injury perhaps. The injury was not so bad that he could not walk.

    I see that John got out of the cockpit, and then attended to his co-pilot whom he thought dead. He pulled him out and realised he wasn’t, but then realised he would die pretty quick if no one found him. He had no time to mess around. He pretty much again was trying to find his bearings (the numbers repeat), and then he looked at his watch to see which way would be the best to head. A south-westerly direction stood out, or he became aware that the enemy was in that general direction. Perhaps he heard vegetation being snapped/voices. His immediate reaction was to head for a water source of some kind, and he went off into the dense vegetation.

    Looking at after action reports, and reading the thoughts of those who served with John, as well as his co-pilot, the conclusion was that he got away.

    When the chopper crashed into the jungle mountainside, it broke up in several pieces. The main wreckage was located several hundred metres from the main rotor. When the ground search and rescue (SAR) teams came in, they mistook the rotor for the main wreckage and swept that area instead. This delayed the search of the immediate area of the main wreckage by a day.

    The main wreckage was located 24 hours after the crash during an aerial search. John’s co-pilot was found beside the wreckage and extracted alive. During the aerial search, not long after John’s helicopter went down, another helicopter was shot down whilst searching during the bad weather. All three men on board were unfortunately killed. Prior to that, there had been another shoot down of a craft some months before in the same general area, killing those on board. That gives an idea really of how well defended that particular area was, and how much NVA/VC presence was in that particular spot.

    When they did finally examine the wreckage, John’s part of the cockpit was seen to be relatively intact. His seatbelt was undone, and placed neatly aside suggesting he had left the cockpit of his own will. No traces of blood were found in his part of the cockpit, suggesting minimal injuries. Similarly, his helmet was found nearby and no traces of blood were found.

    Equipment and survival gear was found scattered about the wreckage. It seems that he got out, and left in a hurry. Some that served with John said he may have led the enemy away to save his co-pilots life. At some point, I do believe the VC/NVA reached the wreckage, and John may have been alerted to them prior to running. John’s co-pilot reported having his watch and bi-fold misplaced, as well as there being sandal footprints on the ground around the wreckage. Most likely they left John’s co-pilot, who was badly injured, for dead, and then went in pursuit of John. The fact that enemy outposts were later found abandoned nearby further confirms this line of thinking.

    Further examination of the after action reports revealed military co-ordinates of the crash area, the search, and the mission that John was on prior to being shot down. I was able to obtain a military map of the area from the Texas Tech University Vietnam archives. A quick search on the internet, and I was able to read up on how to plot military co-ordinates. I then went and pulled all the co-ordinates I could get, and started plotting them out so I could get a sense of the area myself.

    Screenshot from 2018-11-02 12-03-58.png
    Area of crash wrt bunker location

    According to the reports, John was attacking a bunker complex located above a valley. This point is south-west of where the chopper crashed, roughly 8 o’clock, which is what I feel he was looking at on his watch when trying to find his bearings following the crash. The bunker was above a valley, there was a river below. Considering that, I find it unlikely he headed in that direction. There was another stream in a north-westerly direction. Most likely that’s where he headed.

    What’s more interesting is that the numbers I was repeating back in December 2016 correlate for the general area of the crash. This makes me feel that John, being in the gunner/navigator position, knew exactly where he was on the maps, and had visualised a map of the area prior to flying out.
     
    Last edited: Nov 2, 2018
  19. landsend

    landsend Senior Registered

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    (Continued)

    Now, this is where the available reports of what happened dry up, and get confusing. There are some reports of an helicopter being shot down in the area that John was shot down, reported by Vietnamese witnesses. These type of reports are known as ‘hearsay’ reports. Investigators have been looking into John’s case all these years, going back and forward to interview so-called witnesses. After John was declared presumed dead in 1977, looking for burial sites near the crash site is the main line of investigation that has been taken.

    Some of these witnesses report capturing a pilot, that he resisted arrest and was shot in his left arm. Other witnesses describe a man with a leg injury. One of the witnesses said that because of his injury they had to carry the pilot on a stretcher to Regional Headquarters where he would be processed. The witness reported that whilst crossing a river, the pilot slipped and fell, and subsequently died. They apparently buried the man along the river bed. Investigators excavated the area of the supposed burial and found nothing, no trace of remains, no personal artefacts. Nada. According to a leading investigator, it was extremely unusual to not find any personal artefacts at a burial site.

    Recently (Sep 2018), I examined that particular witness report myself and found that the witness’s memory itself was under question, it was noted that the witness had possibly suffered an head injury during the war and his memory may not be accurate.

    As I started looking in depth at the case, particularly at that witness testimony, I was hit with a sense of deja vu. Parts of the testimony resonated with me, particularly the account of the river incident where supposedly the witnesses had reported the prisoner had fallen, hit his head and died.

    Later, I decided to meditate on it, and the following came to me:

    Sep 12 2018 -

    I’m in a densely forested area, dense jungle. I’m aware that this is not long after being captured and taken prisoner. I was with a small group of Vietnamese, maybe 4-5 men.

    We are near a river in the jungle, there is more light here with a break from the vegetation. I’m on my knees, hands tied back, and one of the guys has me by the nape of my neck. He’s dunking me into the water, repeatedly thrusting my head into the depths of the river. I can see the water blurry through my open eyes. I try not to inhale the water. Every time he lifts me to the surface, I gasp for breath. He keeps me under longer than he should. I’m not sure how many times he does this, seems to go on for a long time. I’m aware of three guys, the guy whose doing the dunking, another man behind him and to his right, and a man on his left who has a rifle pointed in my direction. They’re standing in the shallow depths of the river near to where I am. In the shallow water there are small jagged rocks. From my vantage I can see in my peripheral visions the legs of the guy on the left, and the gun pointing at me. I note that the rifle is similar to the AK-47, it is a Chinese copy of that rifle (Type 56).

    Not sure why this is occurring, but it appears they may be doing this as a punishment. Most likely I had taken advantage of the vulnerability of the river crossing and tried to escape.

    Just at the moment I think they’re going to drown me, another more senior guy comes along to tell them to stop. The dunking guy lets go of me, and I fall over, exhausted, coughing and gasping for air. I can hear the senior guy shouting in rapid Vietnamese. Maybe he was reprimanding them for almost killing me. Either way, the senior guy comes over to me to examine me. He says something to me in Vietnamese that I can’t discern – it seems he’s attempting in his Vietnamese way to say my last name, as well as trying to ask me if I’m hurt. He seems to be referring to the left side of my head, it appears to be bleeding fresh blood. That injury was not there during the crash.


    Another vision showed me these men again, in particular the guy who was doing the dunking. He appeared very young, perhaps still a teenager, much less a man than a boy. His immaturity, and cruelness struck me. I think half of it was an act, to show he was tough, the other half was inherited bitterness from the war. Most likely he’d lost people he’d loved in the war. Most Vietnamese people had. Who knows what this kid had seen and done to make him the way he was.

    Again, I’m in a dense jungle area, apparently resting. Even though I’m resting I have my hands tied back, and can only sit on my haunches. There’s the same captors here as from the river crossing incident.

    I’m staring at one of the men, who appears little more than a boy, in truth. Perhaps he was eighteen. He was sitting against the base of the tree, watching me. He had in his hands a silver revolver, perhaps a Colt. I’m aware that it’s my pistol, taken from my person upon capture. He’s twirling it around his finger, playing with it like it’s a toy, opening the barrel, in general just horsing around with it. There’s a feeling of great annoyance at what he’s doing, but I’m powerless to do anything about it.

    He then points the pistol at me, says something like ‘John Wayne – American John Wayne’. At this point I was terrified, and the annoyance turns to fury. I had no clue what he would do.

    Without warning, he pulls the trigger of the gun. The gun ‘clicks’. I had no clue if he knew if it was loaded or not, I assume he knew it wasn’t but I’m not sure. The guy seemed to find the whole ordeal funny. He had great satisfaction of having that power over me. I tried not to give him the satisfaction of seeing my fear, or fury. In truth, I was terrified and mortified by the whole ordeal.
     
    Last edited: Nov 2, 2018
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  20. landsend

    landsend Senior Registered

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    Other visions during that meditation pointed toward being paraded through mountain villages on the back of an oxcart. One of the incidents was remarkably similar to an incident that occurred to me in my present life when I was a teenager. During high school, like many folks who didn’t fit in, I had a bad time. But I now realise, looking back, that I was bullied. At the time I didn’t constitute it as bullying, because I had erroneously thought that to be bullied you had to be physically punched, or kicked. I think that form of bullying, although still terrible, would have felt more understandable to me-- because at least I could have justified to myself why I felt so powerless, and terrible. At the time I did not realise that people can be horrifically cruel and damaging without physical blows. I didn’t realise that people could make you feel worthless without raising a fist.

    I’ll describe what happened to John:

    I’m on the back of some sort of cart, we are moving through a mountain village. My hands and legs are tied back, and I’m here, partially hidden by sacks of rice. We are moving through the center of the village, it’s a clearing on a plateau, the jungle has been cleared back here. I can see the blue outline of a ridge line in the distance. The village really is nothing more than a couple of huts.

    I can see the people of the village following us through the gaps of the wooden cart. As we move through, I hear them shouting what sounds like ‘America’, or ‘Americal’ – maybe a pidgin way of saying American. Obviously my presence here is an exciting event, and the whole village has turned out to see me.

    The cart slows down, maybe stops. I don’t know if I’m taken from the cart, or if the people reach through the gaps to touch me. They touch me, my arms, my legs, my combat fatigues (clothes I was shot down in), and I’m powerless to stop them with my hands tied back. I see a woman’s face, she looks about twenty, she’s young with liquid black intense eyes, so full with hate are her eyes. She touches my face, like I’m nothing, wiping her fingers across my cheek she says something to me that sounds like ‘Nuoc Ni’. I can not hear the second word, but the first word clearly sounds like ‘Nuoc’.


    Straight away following that vision, I spoke her words into Google Translate. It bought up ‘Nước Mỹ’ – apparently Vietnamese for America. Of course I had no clue during the vision. I do not speak Vietnamese. And I believe John at that point only had a vague understanding of Vietnamese. I was surprised it correlated, but the vision had been so clear that deep down, it didn’t surprise me. But it did disturb me, nevertheless.

    Perhaps more surprising was the event of my teenage years, of which this vision bought back to me.
    There was a girl in my high school who was always particularly cruel to me, one of a group of girls, including so called friends, who would sometimes take turns to belittle me. There’s one occasion that stands out to me – although this may have occurred more than once. I recall us standing at break time together. The girls started taking it in turn to start touching my face, without my permission, and making comments about my appearance. I recall standing there, absolutely paralysed, apparently powerless to do anything. I’ve looked back on this event of my life and asked myself why I didn’t say something to them, why didn’t I retaliate? One of the girls who did it was apparently a friend. Other events that happened I did retaliate – but not in this moment.

    One girl for years when I looked back on this event reminded me of a Vietnamese person. She was of south Asian descent, from India. She had these big black eyes, black hair, a flat round face. I recall her running her fingers across my cheeks, and being stricken by it.

    Their comments about my appearance, them touching my face, me being powerless – it was an event that affected me profoundly and to this day when I look back on it, it brings tears to my eyes. Tears of shame, mostly. I used to ask myself why this happened. Why did they do this to me? Why didn’t I do something, tell them to stop? Why did I feel so powerless?

    I used to say to myself that I deserved it. I deserved that treatment. I used to say to myself I was being punished for something that I had done—something that I had done a long, long time ago. Being barely thirteen and having those thoughts, it made no sense. It made no sense to me then why I was carrying so much pain, for something so little.
     

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