Ken Williamson
Vietnam Veteran
Ken Williamson is a 1960 graduate of Norwood High School, a 1966 graduate
of Ohio University and served with the 815th Combat Engineers, 937 Group,
in Pleiku, Vietnam and the 26th Public Information Unit in Saigon in 1969.
Ken has a beautiful photographic display entitled, Vietnam Revisited.
This exhibit features photo essays, feature stories, and portraits from
his service in 1969, plus photography and poetry completed during a return
trip to Vietnam in February, 1998. Many of the recent photographs
were taken at the same locations as those in 1969. Ken is also a
wonderful poet. Some of his poems are shared on this page.
Please respect the copyright of Ken's poetry.
The Rain, My Mother and Common Sense
"You don't have enough common sense
to get in out of the rain...
you're going to get wet",
my Mother would announce.
I was only seven.
exploring a child's adventure.
Playing in the rain
with my friends.
Small, shallow areas
in the pavement
would fill
with water.
Our feet made huge splashes
as we purposely
took aim
in the puddles.
Our mission
splashing
ourselves
and each other.
The rain ran down my face,
dripped off my nose,
filled my ears,
and cooled my body.
When the summer shower was over,
and the puddles were gone,
I put on dry clothes
and enjoyed the sweet smell of the air.
Today,
49 years later,
I sometimes work in my garden
in the rain.
The water runs down my face
drips off my nose
and fills my ears
transporting my mind
to Vietnam
and a different adventure.
The smells return
mildew
and the uniform that never dried.
Fear and loneliness.
The sarge never said:
"Son, git out of the rain,
you're gonna git wet".
And where was the
common sense
in that?
Written by Ken Williamson
Copyright, 1998, Ken Williamson
All Rights Reserved
Faces
Faces.
Check the eyes.
Smiles exchanged.
No words.
Thirty years later
No VC...
a new generation.
Trust is hesitant to show its face to me.
Written by Ken Williamson
In Vietnam, February 19, 1998
Copyright, 1998, Ken Williamson
All rights reserved
Cu Chi, 1998
The tunnels of CuChi...
I felt the spirits of darkness, of death,
and heard the battle cries
echo across the barren trails.
All the trees were young.
Those who died
here
were infants, too.
Young men in an old jungle.
Napalm, Agent Orange and bombs...
When they were all gone
the trees had disappeared.
The tunnels kept the secrets
and the jungle floor is barren.
I heard
their whispers
and cries
in the cool February breezes.
Written by Ken Williamson
CuChi, February 21, 1998
Copyright, 1998, Ken Williamson
All rights reserved
Return to Highway QL-19
No mine sweeps to wait for.
No ambushes to expect.
The air was quiet,
except for the horns of vehicles
demanding their space.
Put the pedal to the metal.
Memories of fear and death
fading with each passing mile.
Rice and coffee
Corn and more rice.
Children going to school.
Electric wires overhead.
The dreaded ribbon of asphalt...QL-19
was dragging me into the present.
Written by Ken Williamson
Vietnam, February 23, 1998
Copyright, 1998, Ken Williamson
All rights reserved
Peace At Last
I returned to Vietnam in search of treasures lost.
I looked into the eyes of the people
and found a friendly spirit.
Had I discovered myself again?
I returned to the battleground in search of youth gone by.
The smells, the sounds, the feelings.
All I found were echoes
and spirits screaming through the silence.
I returned to Vietnam
to find something I left behind.
The map didn't match the terrain.
The treasure of peace had not been lost.
Ken Williamson
Written in Saigon
February 21, 1998
Copyright, 1998, Ken Williamson
All rights reserved