Journal of American
Studies of Turkey
A Patriot After All: The Story of a Chicano Vietnam Vet
by Juan Ramírez. (1999), 192 pages, $16.95.Available from:
University of New Mexico Press
María
Teresa Márquez
In
the 1850s and 1860s, Rafael Chacón, a Nuevo
Mexicano, [person from New Mexico] was in the Union Army, fought in the
American Civil War and returned to his homeland to write Memorias [Memoirs] (later reconstructed as Legacy of Honor: The Life of Rafael Chacón, a Nineteenth Century New
Mexican by Jacqueline Meketa). In this “Memoirs” he vividly recorded his
war experiences, the personal sacrifices he made, and the racism existing at
that time. He detailed the discrimination he suffered in the Union Army during
and after the Civil War—which, ironically, was fought to liberate fellow
Americans from the chains of slavery in the bloodiest war in U.S. history.
Chacón’s Memorias will be one example
of many novels that will address the issue of the Chicano experience in war.[1]
In this review article I want to offer an overview of the literature focusing
on the war in Vietnam and in particular center my attention on the excellent
novel written by Juan Ramírez, a Vietnam veteran: A Patriot After All: The Story of a Chicano Vietnam Vet (1999).
Chacón’s autobiography, cited above,
foreshadows the double consciousness and conflicted loyalties that will appear
in subsequent Chicano history and literature as is evident in the Vietnam
novels that have recently appeared written by Mexican Americans. After World
War II many Chicano veterans returned from the war with a strong commitment to
change the prevailing conditions of social, economic, and political
discrimination extant in the United States. Sabine Ulibarrí’s memoir, Mayhem Was Our Business: Memorias de un
veterano, records his experiences as a bombardier and recalls how the
veterans of his generation refused to further tolerate the conditions which had
existed for years. This new awareness on the part of returned Mexican American
war veterans in effect changed the course of American history. As Ulibarrí
poignantly states in his memoir:
[T]hey laid the foundation for social,
political and educational enfranchisement…. A generation literally baptized by
fire would leave an enduring legacy, and their experiences would touch the
lives of many: We, who went to war didn’t return the same. Not only were we
changed, but we in turn have affected and changed all the people related to us.
War is not something you hang in the closet (3).
Two generations later, the Vietnam
War would sear the American consciousness and conscious as images from this
conflict were seen on television screens throughout the nation. While Americans
knew the daily body counts of the enemy killed, the horrors the young soldiers
were suffering were not in any count. Only after Ronald Reagan became president
did the veterans of “the war without order and purpose” began to write their
ordeal (Melling 49). The silence of the 1960s and 1970s was broken and the
literature about the Vietnam War surfaced to form an important chapter in
American literature. Yet, a review of the literature greatly contradicts the
reality of who participated in the war. The more than 1,000 literary works and
over 400 critical texts focus mostly on white and African American soldiers and
thus mislead one to think that only these two racial groups of American
military men fought in Vietnam (Loeb 95). Indeed, texts by and about Chicano
soldiers form no more than a small part of the literature. Some notable
examples are: An Accidental Soldier: Memoir of a Mestizo
in Vietnam (2003), which provides a vivid account of a young Chicano’s loss
of innocence. Aztlan and Viet Nam
(1999) is an anthology of poems, short stories, and other literary works that
highlight the contradictions that challenged the traditionally patriotic
Mexican American families and the grassroots opposition. Dogs From Illusion (1994) is a novel that portrays a raw, harsh
picture of war and The Drug Hazed WAR in
Southeast Asia: A Soldier’s Extraordinary Experience in the Killing Fields of South Vietnam
(1998) is the autobiography of a young Chicano’s experience in the war. Humidity Moon (1999) encompasses a
collection of short stories regarding the horrors of war in the jungles of
Vietnam. Interrogations (1999) offers
us a collection of poems about the realities of the Vietnam War and the young
men who lost their lives while Shifting
Loyalties (1995) narrates the lives of five Chicanos before, during, and
after the Vietnam War, and their attempts at adjusting back into normal life. Soldados: Chicanos in Vietnam: Narratives of
the Viet Nam War (1990) are stories of Chicanos who bravely and fiercely
fought in the war yet were invisible in films, newspapers, television programs,
and in war footage.
Some Chicanos penned their autobiographies in order to provide
readers with a different view of the sounds, sights, and smells of the
realities of the Vietnam War. It is a little known fact that the first American
prisoner of war was a Mexican American, whose plane was shot down while on a
mission over Vietnam. Two outstanding novels Chained Eagle (1989) and Code
of Conduct (1991) by Everett Alvarez chronicle his survival in prison for
eight and one half years and the beatings and torture he suffered there. He
credited his spirit of survival to his parents and grandparents who endured
many years as migrant workers in California. Roy Benavídez, a former Green
Beret, recorded his experiences in The
Three Wars of Roy Benavídez (1986), The
Last Medal of Honor (1990), and Medal
of Honor: A Vietnam Warrior’s Story
(1995). In 1981, Benavídez was awarded the Medal of Honor for his bravery under
enemy fire and for disregarding his own safety. He remains one of the most
decorated soldiers who fought in Vietnam.
The Drug Hazed WAR in
Southeast Asia (1998) is Jay Dee Ruybal’s portrayal of his life
during and after the war and his efforts to overcome his dependency on the
drugs that numbed his fears while as a combat soldier. An Accidental Solider: Memoir of a Mestizo Vietnam (2003) is Manny
García’s account of the horrors of war; he recounts how he killed before he was
yet a man and before he had learned to love a woman. In order to survive,
García learned to shut off his emotions and feelings. Conflicting sentiments of
patriotism, doubts, and skepticism characterize the literature. Yet, in spite
of the racism, discrimination, and other injustices suffered, these young
soldiers were patriotic during and after the war.
Of particular interest among the
above group of narratives focusing on the Vietnam War is the novel A Patriot After All: The Story of a Chicano
Vietnam Vet (1999). The novel is written by Juan Ramírez and details his
journey towards an understanding of the social, cultural, and historical forces
that shaped his life as a Chicano growing up in California, and as a Marine
fighting in Vietnam. Ramírez’s autobiography covers three important stages of
his life: childhood and family, loss of innocence and the search for identity,
and readjustment to civilian life.
The young and idealistic Juan
Ramírez joined the Marine Corps after graduating from high school. Like so many
other Chicanos who were not encouraged to further their education, he enlisted
because it was expected of him and was part of his family’s history. Ramírez
father and several of his uncles had served in World War II, while another
uncle had served in the Korean Conflict. The father had been in the Navy, where
he suffered maltreatment and discrimination. Still, the elder Ramírez was proud
of his military service. However, when he returned home honorably discharged,
he became disillusioned and hurt because American society refused to accord
veterans of color equal treatment, regardless of their patriotism and loyalty.
His father’s bitterly, sad experience prompted young Ramírez’s growing
self-awareness and his recognition of ethnic and class differences in the
United States. This also led to his acceptance of his bi-national and
bicultural identity:
I am undeniably of Mexican descent. I am
also without a doubt American even as much as I am denied that designation by
mainstream America. I am also, by some definition, Chicano. I…can truly say
that I am none of the above, yet I am a composite of all of the above. I am a
composite of many characteristics (179).
Ramírez’s self-awareness and ambivalence is similar to what
Arnold Krupat describes as “betweenness” (125). In Ethnocriticism: Ethnography, History, Literature (1992), Krupat
argues that “betweenness” is a position of power from which to shape difference
as a positive characteristic. He suggests “betweenness” should not be accepted
as condemnation, but rather as an impulse to present oneself “as not entirely
Other nor yet the same” (125). Thus, Ramírez’s biculturality allows him to
enter “a contact zone between cultures” where he can translate his difference
or “home culture” for those not of his background (Reed-Danahay 127). Deborah
Reed-Danahay argues that border crossings and translations of ethnicity form
life histories as simultaneously ethnography and autobiography (127).
Juan Ramírez’s family history extends back to several
generations of raíces mexicanas
[Mexican roots] and more recently to
American roots. As with many Mexican families who came to the United States as
immigrants in the early 1900s, Ramírez’s family crossed the border as displaced
persons, fleeing the Mexican Revolution. His grandparents’ and later, his
parents’ quest for the American Dream meant having to negotiate the zone which
Arnold Krupat argues is where cultures of unequal material power must deal with
each other; where identities are not stable, but stand on shifting grounds (5).
Believing that assimilation into American society would be a shield against
discrimination and racism, Ramírez’s parents refused to teach him Spanish. The
prohibition to speak Spanish in the schools only heightened his awareness of a
separate Mexican identity. These early experiences led to Ramírez’s later
understanding of “the existing power dynamics and the complex process of
domination” (Motzafi-Haller 217). Pnina Motzafi-Haller notes that there always
exists a link between a writer’s positioning in society and history and the
kind of comprehension such personal background forms (217).
Juan Ramírez’s disillusionment at the discrimination practiced
by the commanding officers in boot camp and Vietnam further shaped his
understanding of the process of domination in American society. These
recognitions caused great psychological tensions and difficulties. No longer
willing to accept without question values such as duty and loyalty to his
country, in light of the realities of Vietnam, he goes AWOL and returns to the
United States. Ramírez, however, fails to achieve some sense of normalcy and
direction in his home life and decides to return to Vietnam. He goes AWOL a
second time and lands in jail. Going AWOL was prompted by an increasing
emotional instability that was ignored by his superiors and medical staff.
When Ramírez first arrived in Vietnam, he had expected to be
fighting Communism, an important mission and ideal: “It was America’s duty to
defend the free world, and so Americans had to make sacrifices in order to
carry out [this] noble goal” (50). Instead Ramírez saw destruction of lives and
property and maltreatment of Vietnamese people. The realities of war did not
match what he had expected nor did he feel like John Wayne’s character in the
movie, “Sands of Iowa Jima:” “Nothing in my training, my education…prepared me
for the reality of this war I had entered” (43).
The
trauma of war leads to a loss of innocence and a sense of self-division in Ramírez.
Jeff Loeb argues that what formerly was believed to be a whole self was now a
fragmented being: “Most narrators, several years removed from their experiences
in Vietnam, are compelled to see themselves as previously whole, but broken by
those experiences…. It is, however, the broken self that does the writing and
telling about the trauma….”(100). From this particular “betweenness,” Ramírez
attempts to create the whole person he was before the trauma of Vietnam. His
reference to John Wayne, a popular cultural icon, represents his concept of
wholeness.
In the end, Juan Ramírez, recognizes
that not all of his identity problems were a result of his Vietnam experiences,
but more from his cultural and national environments. His literary journey
forced him to examine his identity and to come to terms with who he is and what
he is. But most important, Ramírez’s story honors his comrades and fellow
Chicanos who fought in the war and suffered the highest casualty rates among
the soldiers who served in that war. A
Patriot After All is a testament not only to the courage and determination
of one man, but part of a greater story and a story of many chapters still to
be written.
Alvarez,
Everett Jr. and Anthony S. Pitch. Chained Eagle. New York: Fine, 1989.
----- with Samuel Schreiner Jr. Code
of Conduct. New York: Fine, 1991.
Benavídez,
Roy P. with John R. Craig. Medal of Honor: A Vietnam Warrior’s Story.
Washington: Brassey’s, 1995.
-----
and Oscar Griffin. The Three Wars of Roy Benavídez. San Antonio, TX:
Corona, 1986.
Billac,
Pete. The Last Medal of Honor: The True Story of Green Beret Sergeant Roy P.
Benavídez and His Six-Hour Battle in Hell. New York: Swan, 1990.
Cano,
Daniel. Shifting Loyalties. Houston, TX: Arte Público, 1995.
García,
Manny. An Accidental Soldier: Memoir of a Mestizo in Vietnam.
Albuquerque: U of New Mexico P, 2003.
Krupat,
Arnold. Ethnocriticism: Ethnography, History, Literature. Berkeley: U of
California P, 1992.
Loeb,
Jeff. “Childhood’s End: Self Recovery in the Autobiography of the Vietnam War.”
American Studies 37 (1996): 95-116.
Mariscal,
George, ed. Aztlán and Vietnam: Chicano and Chicana Experiences of the War.
Berkeley: U of California P, 1999.
Melling,
Philip H. Vietnam in American Literature. Boston: Twyane, 1990.
Motzafi-Haller,
Pnina. “Writing Birthright: On Native Anthropologists and the Politics of
Representation.” Auto/Ethnography: Rewriting the Self and the Social.
Ed. Deborah E. Reed-Danahay (Oxford: Berg, 1997) 195-222.
Padilla,
Genaro. My History, Not Yours. Wisconsin: U of Wisconsin P, 1993.
Quintana, Leroy V. Interrogations. Chevy
Chase, MD: Burning City, 1990.
Ramírez,
Juan. A Patriot After All: The Story of a Chicano Vietnam Vet.
Albuquerque, NM: U of New Mexico P, 1999.
Reed-Danahay,
Deborah, ed. Auto/Ethnography: Rewriting the Self and the Social.
Oxford: Berg, 1977.
Rodriguez,
Michael W. Humidity Moon: Short Stories of the Vietnam War. San Antonio,
TX: Pecan Grove, 1998.
Ruybal,
Jay Dee. The Drug Hazed WAR in Southeast Asia. Albuquerque, NM: Creative
Designs, 1998.
Trujillo,
Charley B. Dogs of Illusion. San José, CA: Chusma, 1994.
-----,
Ed. Soldados: Chicanos in Viet Nam, Narratives of the Viet Nam War. San
José, CA: Chusma, 1990.
Ulibarrí,
Sabine R. Mayhem Was Our Business: Memorias de un veterano. Tempe: AZ:
Bilingual P, 1997.
[1] Genaro Padilla in
his groundbreaking book My History, Not
Yours: The Formation of Mexican American Autobiography, was one of the
first scholars to document not only the maltreatment Chacón suffered while he
served the Union cause, but also the injustices inflicted on tens of thousands
of Mexicanos during the period of Manifest Destiny in the American invasion of
their homeland. Padilla concludes that these injustices and their far-reaching
consequences influenced the concept and writing of Memorias: “Having lived on the surface of two distinct plates of
social experience-one-cultural, the other national recalling such events
produce a distension of consciousness in which contradictory loyalties grate
against each other, creating immense psychological pressure…” (164).