Putting Ghosts to Rest
 

In Vietnam, War Widow Exorcises
Three Decades of Guilt

Story by R. R. Keene

Dong Koi Mountain is one of those places where the Vietnamese do not go. It does not appear any more or less foreboding than neighboring Dong Ha Mountain and the surrounding hills of what was once Northern I Corps along the old Demilitarized Zone. But the local inhabitants believe it is haunted with the souls of unrested spirits.

As a rule, combat veterans don't put much stock in ghost stories, usually dismissing such tales as products of overactive imaginations. But every once in a while, someone will tell them of something unusual which causes them to pause. Dong Koi is one such exception.

Twenty-five years after Reserve Second Lieutenant James Glenn "Jimmy" Upchurch made the ultimate sacrifice on that mountain, his widow, Kathy, stood at its foot, trying unsuccessfully to find someone to take her up on a tour. With her was Ed Henry, a former Navy corpsman who served with the Seventh Marine Regiment at Chu Lai and who is now a guide in Vietnam with Military Historical Tours of Alexandria, Va.

"We're not allowed in that area," he told her gently, as they looked up the ridge line. "It's an ancestral area the Vietnamese don't want disturbed."

Their Vietnamese guide was less tactful. When he was asked to lead them up the ridge, his reply was a firm, "No!"

So Kathy Upchurch stood at the foot of Dong Koi Mountain and prayed.

She had been an 18-year-old college freshman when, on a blind date, she met her future husband, an upperclassman who played football for East Central State University in Ada, Okla. Jim Upchurch looked like the all-conference tackle that he was: broad-shouldered, full of youthful power and confidence and well-liked, but also a natural leader.

"He had a boy's sense of humor, direct with an easy laugh. And we became best friends," she said. "He was the first person in my life to ever fight for me," she added softly, without elaborating. He proposed on St. Valentine's Day 1965, and they were married in June. Not quite two years later, he received his draft notice on Jan. 28, 1967, his 23rd birthday.

"Things were such then that he could have gotten a waiver, but he wasn't going to do that. His grandfather had been a Marine," Kathy said. She remembers the day when Jim and his friend, Larry Beck, came through the door and said in unison, "Guess what we did today?" They had signed up for Officer Candidates School.

She still can hear that refrain today, tolling like a prophetic chorus, for both would die in Vietnam. "Guess what we did today?"

Second Lieutenant Upchurch's Basic School class graduated in August 1968, and by September he had orders to the Republic of South Vietnam. The couple had a month's leave to prepare for the separation.

Kathy had been teaching school while Jim attended OCS and TBS at Quantico, Va. They returned to his father's resort in Graford, Texas, where she would work as a back-up fry cook, cabin cleaner, boat worker and wait while Jim did his 13-month tour.

He wanted to make the Corps a career, and she really wanted to have children. But decisions on both would have to wait. After Vietnam, there would be plenty of time for such things.


http://www.mca-marines.org/Leatherneck/ghostsarch.htm

Sempers,

Roger

If I knew it would be the last time,
that I'd see you fall asleep,
I'd tuck you in more tightly
and pray the Lord, your soul to keep.

If I knew it would be the last time,
that I'd see you walk out the door,
I'd give you hugs and kisses
and call you back for more.

If I knew it would be the last time,
I'd hear your voice in praise;
I'd tape each word and action,
to recall them day by day.

If I knew it would be the last time,
I could spare that extra minute
To stop and say, "I love you,"
instead of assuming that you KNEW it.

If I knew it would be the last time,
I might not share your day,
When I'm sure you'll have so many more,
I can let this one slip away.

For surely there's always tomorrow,
to mend an oversight,
And we always get a second chance,
to make everything just right.

There will always be another day
to say "I love you dear," and certainly there's
another chance to say "I'll soon be near"

But just in case I might be wrong,
and today is all we get,
I'd like to say how much I love you;
and I hope you don't forget.

Tomorrow is promised to no-one,
young or old alike,
And today may be the last chance you get,
to hold your loved one tight.

So if you're waiting for tomorrow,
why not do it all today?
For if tomorrow never comes,
you'll surely regret this day.

That you didn't take that extra time
for a smile, a hug, a kiss
And grant someone, what turned out to be,
their one last earthly wish.

So hold your loved ones close today,
and whisper in their ear,
Tell them how much you love them
and that you'll always hold them dear

Take time to say "I'm sorry," "Please forgive me, dear,"
"Thank you, sweetheart," "I'll do better," "Everything's okay,"

And if tomorrow never comes,
surely there can be no regrets,
About this, our last day together
and the pain I can't forget.

Wazza
 

That poem should be standard issue for anyone who's job is going into harms way. Thanks mate and welcome to the files. Frank / E.Co. 1/501st Inf 101st Abn Div I Corp 1971 :D :D :cl: