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I don't remember the war itself. My first clear childhood memory of any world event was the fall of Saigon in 1975.
The last choppers taking off, or being pushed into the sea.
I remember feeling bad for all those scared people running for their lives down roads to try to find safety somewhere. I was too young then to understand why all that was happening.
The consequences of defeat.
I watched this and openly wept. I can't think about this without being both angry and prone to rage. In the immortal words of Elmer Keith: Hell, I was there!
Please, don't get me started.