A Prologue, to a Book I am writing. Tell me what you think.?
Blood Stripe
Prologue
When a man or woman goes to war, their families go with Them. – Michelle Obama
For hundreds of years Americans have marched off to war. Starting with the American Revolution up to the conflict today in Iraq and Afghanistan. This book will focus primarily on the war in Vietnam, and the families that survived with the returning Veteran. Only because it is the experience I know, as the son of a career Marine. Vietnam offered Americans a unique perspective during this time. It was the first televised war in History.
Most nights during that conflict, a well known Anchorman Walter Cronkite would open the nightly news with the numbers of dead and wounded, it would be prominently displayed on the television screen and he would read them, then proceed with the headlines of the day.
As a young boy with a father in Vietnam, I may have not showed the concern the moment merited, but I did pay attention, and I watched as my mother also sat with me. “Do you think dad was killed or wounded mom?” I would ask. For some I thought he was fighting Germans. I thought Germans were always the enemy, the old black and white John Wayne movies may have played a part with my innocent perspective of that.
American servicemen and women of all wars sacrifice, they have agreed, if need be, to give their lives in order to preserve the freedom and democracy of our society. Most have no idea what military life will be like until they enlist. Some have families they take with them to their duty stations, others marry and have children during their tours. Not much has been said about the families left behind, when the man or woman receives orders to deploy to a war zone or foreign duty station. During this unpopular war veterans came home and were not treated as victors. They were not given parades and airport welcomes and marching bands. In some cases they were spat upon and received some of the most vile insults one can endure.
Most veterans may have been greeted by families, then tried to acclimate themselves back into a civil society. Some veterans saw things no human should have to see, endured pain no human should have to experience. Injured physically and sometimes mentally they suffered. Many did so in silence and kept it to themselves.
They came home to wives and children that accepted them home. Children one or two years old that did not recognize their parent. Wives that had not touched their husbands or head the sound of his voice for over a year, or a dad that had seen only pictures of his son or daughter before the introduction at home.
That Soldier, Sailor, Airman, or Marine, would want to return to some normalcy, and get back to the job of raising a family. This would no doubt create problems with a wife that had been the head of the household for a great deal of time, and now would be the second mate.
I remember being at the airport with my mom. I was tired, and it was very late at night. I knew my dad was coming home and I wanted to be part of it. My mom ran when she saw him, hugging him as he kissed her. I ran to him and he picked me up. In his crisp Marine uniform he piked me up and I threw my arms around him. I could smell a mix of alcohol and cologne on him, that was fine for me. His buddies began shaking hands and saying goodbye’s to each other, the crowd started to thin, and they put me in the back seat of the car. I remembered little else until morning.
What I woke up to is the story I will tell, a story of love, confusion, and sometimes even abuse.
Many of the wives and children lived with the effects of war. Long after the protesters had dropped their signs, and the North Vietnamese took control of that country. Dependants of these Veterans lived with, and supported them. The Veteran has numerous, although sometimes questionable resources of which they can get relief. The Veterans Administration provides services long after the uniform has been hung in the closet for good. With the exception of the rather embarrassing exposure at the Veterans Hospital in Washington DC, the services have improved over the years.
This story will not be told from the perspective of a wife, but as the son of a Marine. A Marine that served this country for twenty years. Traveling across the country from city to city, wherever the Corps had decided to place him. I came along, with my family. This is the story of the Military Dependant, or brat, as some like to refer to them. I like thousands of other children over the years, lived a different life t
If you’re telling a story, narrarate, but not in a way that you actually say "this book will be about…" Books often require the reader to temporarily suspend their disbelief. By throwing in this statement, you take away from that. It makes it more of an introduction rather than a part of your story. What you want is a prologue, so try to begin with something like:
For hundreds of years Americans have marched off to war… From the American Revolution to the conflict today in Iraq and Afghanistan, everyone’s concept of war is different… And we have all been affected by it. My own experience began with the war in Vietnam…
And lead on from there. That’s just a suggestion, but you don’t have to take it.
You have excellent material, and will be a great author when you refine your skills [not that you're not now, we could just all stand for some improvement, huh? 
] You’re doing a wonderful job and I’m already finding myself sucked into the story. Keep at it and good luck!
