"Absolutely. It gave people a real view of warfare." Bonnie hesitated
before saying, "The message was diminished by the delay in it becoming
public, and subsequently lost when the public shunned the returning
veterans, as if warfare for Americans should somehow be cleaner than it is
for other countries. For the powers that be, it hammered home the need for
the sanitizing of their end of their wars." She shook her head slowly.
"Canada is no different—no army is clean. They all kill civilians, they all
kill prisoners, and they all kill each other if they are pissed at someone in a
place without rules."
I knew this was all true, so I said nothing.
"Are you aware of the number of Vietnam veteran suicides?"
"Possibly more than those killed in action, as many as sixty thousand.
Why?"
"It‘s much more than that," she said with her eyes closed. Then
looking at me, "They were thrown away when they came home, leaving
them with no way to feel justified in their actions, or compensated for their
personal losses. In other words, left alone the momentum of their acts and
years of indoctrination manifest in the only way it could; it killed them."
"I can see that," I said, nodding intellectually.
"You haven't been moved by the scope of that tragedy, because you
can't see how you are little different from them." She reached over to take
both of my hands in hers. "You were practicing killing yourself when I
came along."
"You don‘t have to threaten me into continuing with this," I said,
sliding mine away to finally look at the bill, as if I was disinterested.
"You don‘t have to interpret a logical comment as a threat, but your
view of a hazardous world—even here—demands that you do. Now,"
Bonnie said, leaning back, "Can you tell me what Americans might have
metaphorically seen in themselves at Kent State?"
Having no idea where we were heading, I took a few moments to
organize what little I knew. Finally, I said, "They killed four young people
who were no physical threat to anyone. In fact," I said, as the thought
arrived, "they were killed for exercising a right upon which the nation was
founded."
"Describe their physical and geographical status?" she said, her
growing grin making no sense to me.
"As far as I know, they were young whites being educated more or
less in the heartland." The weight of the event struck me. "They
represented the American dream—innocence acting on the unalterable
expectation of prospering in a sa fer, freer society for what they were
doing. A couple shots killed the illusions."
