Vietnam: The Long Journey HomeA New Documentary from Lou Reda Productions
Reviewed by Robert Vaughn
Robert Vaughan is a retired Army Warrant Officer (CW-3) with three tours in Vietnam where he was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross, the Air Medal with the V for valor, the Bronze Star, the Distinguished Service Medal, and the Purple Heart.
It is often difficult to discern where art leaves off and reality begins. Then, as you think about it, you realize there is no line of demarcation. Art is, and always has been, the heart and soul of reality, and never has this been more evident than in the documentary film, “Vietnam – The Long Journey Home.†This masterpiece of storytelling, presented by Lou Reda productions, captures the raw emotion of one of the most tumultuous period of our history, and will stand as a hallmark for all future documentaries dealing with Vietnam.
In this film, we learn that not all the wounds are visible. There are no Purple Hearts given to soldiers who have scarred souls. For too many, the nightmares have not gone away, not only for those who fought the war…but for their families, the wives and children who are still dealing with the consequences.
Lou Reda has produced a film of tremendous impact. I say this, not as an opinion, but as an observation, validated by the fact that I am a Vietnam Veteran with three tours “in country.†Archival footage from Lou Reda’s massive film library shows images of battles fought in the jungles of Vietnam, juxtaposed against the shrill, VC-flag-waving protesters in the streets at home. We see young men going to war as wide-eyed innocents; then returning – alone – with the “thousand-yard stare†of bloodied veterans who must face their own demons. But the real power of the film is in the powerful, and gut-wrenching interviews of these same men today, as they struggle to heal their emotional wounds and put the nightmares behind them.
Since its dedication in 1982, the Vietnam Wall has been our most visible symbol. But the truth is that, for most of us, the wall is so traumatic that we can only manage one visit. I’m sure you have seen us there, standing at the head of the incline, our faces taut with trepidation and repressed memories, our eyes brimming with tears, as we summon the courage to walk down into that hollow to commune with absent comrades. When we speak, if we speak at all, it is in a quiet whisper, for we are in a hallowed place. We reach up with trembling fingers to touch a name, and at the moment we touch it, that person is as alive and as real to us as the last time we shared a can of C-rations, or ducked under the whopping blades of a helicopter, or slapped at mosquitoes in the sweltering Vietnam nights.
For forty years now, the coded greeting among Vietnam Veterans has been “Welcome Home, Brother.†That is because there were no bands to greet us, no welcome home parades – not even a Congressional “Thank You†when the peace accords were signed in 1973, and all American combat operations ceased. But, at long last, there was some closure of sorts in the summer of 2005, when over 20,000 Vietnam Veterans gathered in Branson, Missouri for the homecoming we never received.
We are gray haired now, most with a slight paunch, many of us still carrying the wounds in body and spirit we received from that terribly divisive war. But for a few days last summer we renewed acquaintances with friends we had not seen in forty years. And during those few days of homecoming, we were young again, wearing flak jackets and carrying M-16s, drinking warm beer and sharing stories of events that are as fresh in our minds as if they had occurred last night.
The homecoming was a catharsis for those of us who served our country, honorably, bravely, proudly, only to come home to an unappreciative nation. This “must see†film, will be a catharsis for the rest of the country. And as a Vietnam Veteran, I say, in all sincerity, “Thank you Lou Reda, for this magnificent documentary.â€
