To be called a veteran in the 1960’s or even the 1970’s was a disturbing title in the eyes of mainstream society.

The homecoming that veterans of the Vietnam War received was nasty and unjust, according to former infantrymen Rick Dimas.

“They spit on me and called me a baby killer,” he said. The burden of safeguarding freedom existed in the heart of many, but for some it was an everyday reality.

It was impossible to avoid the topic of war.

It was everywhere; on the radio, in the news, on the streets. Everyone knew that a battle was taking place in Vietnam, but not everyone truly understood what came with that battle.

“You didn’t know if you were going to get your legs blown off or walk into an ambush,” former infantry squad leader Joseph Amaes said.

“Dealing with 120-degree weather during the day and 50 degrees at night, a soldier could find himself always suffering in elements.” Amaes recollects the still nights where a single movement could give away his location.

He entered the war effort because of the draft. Like many other soldiers he was scared and was forced to leave a life of comfort behind.

The life he had grown to love and embrace was over.

No more new car, and the everyday civilian job he had worked so hard for was irrelevant now. Next stop was Fort Lewis in Tacoma, Washington, where he would be trained to be a point man and be stationed in Vietnam.

“Kill or be killed” was the mindset in the war zone several veterans shared.

There was a 90 percent guarantee, they said, that you would either be wounded or killed before you reached your end of service.

The worst thing about war for Amaes was losing his comrades. In two months he witnessed 31 deaths. For other veterans the worst part was having to see the civilians that were in the middle of their war zone. However, in a war everything is the worst part.

“I held my friend in my arms the day he died, a 19 year old kid calling for his mother,” Dimas said.
Though the battle was over in the jungles of Vietnam, a greater battle was occurring in the hearts and minds of these men. Post-traumatic stress disorder was the problem for many.

War memories never fade.

Good or bad, war shapes an individual and becomes part of who he is for the rest of his life.
Unfortunately, the transition to civilian life was very hard for some of these veterans.

Witnessing deaths and traumatic experiences first-hand at a very young age caused paralysis in the way they would think and live.

Dimas struggled with an alcohol and drug addiction that held him back for a few years. His motivation at the time was to keep his mind going. For if his mind was busy or sidetracked on drugs or alcohol he would not be forced to deal with the memories of Vietnam. Forgetting the unforgettable was his purpose.
Veterans like Amaes felt like respect was lost in society because of the discrimination he faced.

He struggled to find work because of his identification with the military so the only job he could find was working in the fields. He was also dealing with depression and PTSD upon his homecoming.

“I wasn’t innocent no more,” he said. “I couldn’t be around people that were happy. All the sadness, trauma, and death got to me. It’s a lot different going to a funeral and mourning than picking up human pieces here and there.”

Amaes was eventually notified of the GI Bill and the benefits he had because of his service. With the GI Bill he was able to attend Delta Community College and earned an Associate of Arts degree.

When asked if he would change anything about his time served in the military, Amaes smiled and said, “I wouldn’t change anything. I made it, thank God. I accomplished it. I’ve done the ultimate sacrifice.”