Singh Ciao Suuan? Singh Ciao Jgunng?

So far we’ve sifted through 30 4 x 4 meter units and still no sign of the good Lt. I keep trying to keep in mind that he is an Air Force Lieutenant so naturally he’s not going to be where he’s supposed to be. It is very hot and dry out here. Last night a most amazing lightning and thunder storm started at one a.m. I think everyone was just laying in bed waiting for the rain to start falling on the tarp, but it never happened. Even the marsh that we’ve been wallowing through is drying up. I think we’re all getting to the point that we really need to find something. It feels like we’ve come so far to be here and worked so hard already… really the Lt needs to meet us part of the way. It’s not even half way, I think we’ve come far more than half of the way for him. All he needs to do is send a femur up through the ground or something… maybe send out some sort of signal. I think everyone has started talking to him when it’s their turn to dig. Today was my turn and I sure had a lot to say. The workers are really antsy to find him too. While we were digging we came across a piece of burnt wood that had whitish parts and was kind of shaped like a chunk of bone or a tooth. The workers got all excited and frankly I got a little excited too. But it turned out to be nothing. I’ve started saying "Hello Bone?, Hello Tooth?" in Vietnamese to all the buckets of dirt and the workers have started doing the same. It’s quite the little site out here.

I can’t help but think about what the war here was like. I look out across this field and think of the crash and how the copilot ran for his life only to be captured. When the witness that buried our guy comes out here I try to imagine that this man took him and put him in the ground. Forty years later the Americans return and everyone is friends now. There’s an older woman that calls me daughter and countless other bonds that mean a lot to both sides. But nothing really has changed here since the war. These are the same people that we fought. The same people are helping us sift through tons of dirt, dust, clay and rock looking for our lost. It’s impossible not to compare this place to Iraq. I wonder if Iraq will find a way to behave in a civilized manner in the next forty years. I wonder if in forty years our descendents will be in Iraq giggling with the descendents of the roadside bombers over the graves of our lost. I can’t help but wonder if the Lieutenant would be appalled or relieved that the American’s and Vietnamese are becoming friends as they search for him. Honestly, 40 years puts a war into a bizarre perspective.

Oh, but on a good note – I made it out to the field and the projectile is now wayyyy out of the way of the field and the school. I did it without any approval or telling anyone. I just did it. I know that I owe my allegiance to the U.S. and whatever their mission is. But frankly I don’t care. Even more important than that is a responsibility that I know I have and will have to live with long after my service time. Needless to say, I don’t care what happens when one of the chuckle heads realizes that the round isn’t in the field anymore. :) Guess they should have known better than to send my hippie ass through EOD school!