so I did, and it was kind of funny to my parents. I was only repeating what I had heard.
The nun asked my parents to translate what I had said, but in English, it lost its meaning. My parents translated, but it had no meaning.
A few days later, the nun told the class that there were eleven commandments. It was kind of strange to hear the nun say there were eleven commandments because all along, we had been taught only ten. She stated there are eleven commandments; the eleventh commandment is, “Thou shall not speak Spanish on school grounds.” It seemed to me that it was her problem and hers alone. A thought erupted in my mind as to why should I be blamed for her ignorance. I was trying my best to learn English. I attended the nun school for three years only, and soon after this confrontation, I transferred to the Penasco Independent Schools.
Early Childhood and Adolescence in Northern New Mexico
Growing up in Northern New Mexico was a blessing, although we didn’t appreciate it when we were young. We took everything for granted, I suppose, because we didn’t know any better. We had many chores, and our time was of great value. We didn’t have time to be bored. We all spoke fluent Spanish with close ties to the Catholic Church and la famila. We had farm animals to feed and attend to, a garden in the summer, pasture land to cultivate, as well as making sure we had plenty of wood for the cold winter months. In my family, everyone had a certain chore to attend to since we were self-sufficient. The boys took care of the outside chores, and the girls took care of the home chores.
At the age of seven, I had a responsibility assigned to me other than the chores at home in the summer: it was to take care of the fifty plus sheep my father had. My older brother and I had to herd the sheep to the nearby mountains where my father and grandfather owned property. There we had to make sure the sheep had enough grazing for the day. Lucky for us, as the day got warmer, the sheep would take to the shade, and that gave us some leisure time. We would leave the house at seven in the morning, and we would not return till late in the evening about seven o’clock. After a while, the sheep got accustomed to the travel, and so did we. I recall going through a pair of leather shoes in about a month; we did a lot of walking.
We were a close-knit family. La famila was very important. My grandfather and grandmother lived next door to our house, and since my grandparents lived alone, I spent most of my spare time with my grandfather. I enjoyed hanging out with my grandfather. He was very articulate, and he took the time to talk to people in the community.
He knew what was happening in local affairs as well as county and state. I recall every evening after supper, he would read the newspaper page by page to the end. He was always encouraging me to do well and was always praising me for doing it. As I entered high school, I moved in with my grandparents since my older sister who lived with them had left the house. I was my grandfather’s chauffeur, and he was my mentor. Although I didn’t have a driver’s license, I was allowed to drive, provided an adult sibling was present. Once in high school, I took driver’s education, and I got my license.
Although my time was well occupied during the day, I still had time to participate and join the Cub Scouts. Our meeting were held in the late evenings. After being a Cub Scout, I later moved up the ranks to Boy Scout, and finally Explorer Scout. Our scout meetings were held in the evenings, so I was able to participate. I recall my grandfather taking me to Taos, New Mexico, to JCPenney, and he bought me my Boy Scout uniform, and I was so thankful and appreciative. That meant the world to me. During the time I was a member of the Boy Scouts of America, we participated in several Boy Scout camperies at the county and state level. In one particular State Boy Scout campery, our Troop 512 took the state championship in Cuba, New Mexico. We competed with Boy Scouts from all over the state. We had all our merit badges to be Eagle Scouts. We knew the practical as well as the theory of scouting. We were survivors at an early stage in life.
After my brother graduated from high school, the herd of sheep was reduced to just a few, and cattle replaced the sheep. I was in charge of attending to sixty plus cattle during spring break and after school and in the winter months. I had to make sure they were fed every day before going to school and after school in the evening. Never a dull moment, and our morals and value were high.
My father had all the farm implements that go along with the farm to be self-sufficient. We would cut and bale hay for people in the neighborhood. I learned to drive a tractor at an early age, along with all the implements. We would cut and gather timothy hay in the fall, along with other crops, and store them for the winter months.
Every day before going to school and after school, I had to make sure all the animals got fed. Being raised in a farm in Northern New Mexico, we had different farm animals as well as different crops.
Attending Penasco High School until graduation in 1968, I was a C average student; and when evaluation came around, the majority of the schoolteachers stated that I was not college material. It seemed to me at the time that the only students that were encouraged to attend college were the sons and daughters of schoolteachers. I was not encouraged to attend college, and perhaps the mines would be the best choice. There was only one schoolteacher, Mr. Elias Fidel, that suggested that college was the best way to go. He had been in a previous war himself and had gotten an education through the GI Bill and had hope for all students to attend college.
The spring after I graduated, I had the opportunity to go work in Lake Tahoe, California, for an outfit called Champion Construction Co. The company did trailblazing and refurbishing old forest service trails. It was labor work, and jobs were scarce at the time. I worked through the summer and saved enough money to pay tuition for a semester in college, so in September, I registered at NMHU, Las Vegas, New Mexico. I successfully completed the first semester. Although I was considered not to be college material, I took the same classes that my classmates from Penasco High School were taking as freshmen, and I had the same grade they did, even though they were A and B students. I came home for Christmas vacation, and during the break, I didn’t know if I was going back to college. I couldn’t afford to pay for college, so I decided to join the US Marine Corps and hopefully continue the pursuit of a college degree after I had done my duty to God and my county and to protect freedom.
Enlistment in the United States Marine Corps
It was January 13, 1969, that I joined the US Marine Corps along with four other friends from the nearby communities. This is a story that is brutally open and honest. Vietnam is the secret world, the inner sanctum of a warrior, a place unknown to most, a hidden world seldom spoken of to the uninitiated, yet a time-honored world in which we live every moment of every year. War after war, there will always be warriors, and all warriors share the same battleground, and we are caught in two very different and conflicting worlds. As we became Marines, each of us left behind the comforts and safety of our country to travel halfway around the world to experience the horrors of war, and yet within it, we found the true meaning of trust, honor, friendship, and loss. As our tours of duty ended, we returned back to the world only to find our torment continuing with the painful memories of how life once was, and yet could never be the same again. Due to my own military background, I have kept my primary focus on learning how to deal with post-traumatic stress and have learned that we all combat Vietnam veterans have one thing in common. This story recounts many of my own experiences, beginning as a Marine combat rifleman with India Company, Third Battalion, Fifth Marines in and around An Hoa, South Vietnam. As I got in country, I had to quickly learn first to survive combat and, for fifty years, have learned to survive life. To accept dishonor, accept the fact that my valor was stolen by my company commander. Where necessary, I use harsh language, which was common among us in Southeast Asia.
For those of you who have love ones and friends, I hope that you have taken the time to understand what we have gone through and understand that we have come back to the “world” from war forever changed. A new day out in the “bush” was a blessing and never knowing what the rest of the day brought forth. Each
