In 1968, my dad was drafted to fight in Vietnam. He was a year out of high school, married and father of two. I always enjoyed my dad's stories of his experience. Fifty plus years later, he recalls instances with clarity. He remembers the sweltering heat on his first day in Vietnam. He remembers seeing the dead bodies in bags. And, he also recalls the easy access to an assortment of drugs. This would lead to many soldiers coming home with drug addictions.

According to The Library of Congress Research Guides, Dr. Martin Luther King referred to the Vietnam war as a “White man’s war, a Black man’s fight”. In 1965, Black Americans were 31% of the ground combat battalions, and suffered 24% of the army’s casualties. At the same time, Black Americans were 12% of the United States population. By the time my dad was drafted, some changes had occurred which increased the odds of soldiers coming home alive.

In contrast to a number of war vets, my dad was not the gung ho soldier. He did not want to go to war and fight for a country that did not fight for us. What he was most proud of was not having to kill anyone. Ironically, his time in the military, although brief, would benefit him through today.

The photos my dad captured show the isolated moments of being in a war on foreign land.