Bert Bachino

“If I don’t shoot him, he’ll shoot back at me,” were the lyrics the band sang in Lambeau Field’s parking lot. Under normal circumstances, there’d be a healthy spirit of competition in Lambeau’s air before the Packers kickoff. Beers would be cracked open alongside friends and coals would warm for brats as fans waited in anticipation. Over a weekend in late May, the spirit around Lambeau was a mix of joy, emotion, and, as one Vietnam Veteran’s wife said, “Healing.”

The next tune that played was “So Long, It’s Been Good to Know You,” but the lyrics had been changed to welcome veterans home. “We were never welcomed home, and it’s about time. I wish this would have happened years ago,” one leather-clad vet commented. “We remember our comrades who didn’t come back. They gave their lives so we would be free.”

Other veterans attending the event had a different perspective. Bert Bachino who served in the Second Corps in Vietnam said, “Too little, too late,” and was quick to point out what we’ve forgotten. “There is a cart here today that they used to stack bodies on like logs. Bodies with holes in them, and you had to pound them on the chest to make sure they were dead.” For the weekend of LZ Lambeau, the cart was staged with green supply crates and a neatly pressed military uniform hanging from the rafters. Little kids played with chalk near the cart in the motor pool exhibit, and bystanders quickly glanced, took photographs, and moved on to look at a barrack replica. Paint now covers the dried and forgotten blood.

“Yes, the well-functioning vets are here, but what about the ones that aren’t well adjusted and they’re homeless on the street?” questioned Bert. A new singer took the stage and paused to point out the sound of helicopters overhead. “You hear what that is? It’s the sign of hope!” she shouted.

“B-52 pilots were isolated. They never saw what happened: the misery, the stench, the flies. No one remembers this stuff. It’s terrible what we did to their country,” Bert explains. “When you kill people, it comes back to haunt you.”

The beer tent was flowing with camaraderie, guitars were shouting, and LZ Lambeau t-shirts were for sale. Bert walked away with his wife, taking part in the festivities but not forgetting the consequences and victims of war.

Written and Photographed by Tiffany Schreiber

This entry was posted on Thursday, June 10th, 2010 at 01:05 and is filed under Essays, Quotes, and Notes, T.Schreiber and tagged with LZ Lambeau, Tiffany Schreiber, Wisconsin Public Television, Wisconsin Vietnam War Stories. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.