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- Written by Stephen Kopfinger Stephen Kopfinger
I thought Vietnam was the conflict / But it was just the seed / Buried, taking root / Spreading like a weed.
For Vietnam veteran Mike Groff, writing words such as these in poetic form helps him cope with his memories of the war.
Memories like the uncertainty of where the enemy was coming from in a jungle setting. Memories of seeing a friend die. Memories of outsize insects and scorpions. And then came decades of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).
“I saw all kinds of stuff,” says Groff, who today lives in his Central Pennsylvania hometown with his wife, Janet.
Groff served as a specialist, 4th class, in the 1st Cavalry Division of the United States Army. That meant Groff was an Army machine gunner, and he was in the thick of things, even if he didn’t always know where he was.
Groff was in Vietnam from February or early March 1968 (he’s not quite sure of just when he arrived) before he was shot and wounded in his right arm in June of that year.
That was a time he remembers well.
“We were ambushed when I got hit,” Groff says. He was helping two buddies when it happened.
To this day, says his wife, Groff “has no feeling in the right side of his hand.” She becomes emotional when discussing the subject.
Yet during Groff’s brief time overseas, he experienced more than he cared to.
“We had three days of in-country training,” Groff remembers of his arrival in Vietnam. “Then we went out [to fight]. We dealt mostly with the NVA (North Vietnamese Army) and some Viet Cong,” the enemy force known for its stealth.
Past conflicts often had some kind of front—defined areas of battle. In Vietnam, “the whole thing was a front,” Groff sums up.
The enemy could be anywhere, at any time. He recalls a fellow soldier who was “shot from a tree.”
Groff tried to retrieve the fallen man’s gun.
“I couldn’t get the weapon out of his hands. I had heard about death grips, but …” Groff’s voice trails off.
Adding to the uncertainty of Groff’s surroundings was not knowing just where he was half of the time.
“They picked us up and they dropped us down,” he said of the aircraft, which shuttled troops all over the field. “Sometimes, they would land us in rice paddies. I flew all over the place.”
It was overwhelming for a boy from Central Pennsylvania. Groff says he was naïve.
That hometown connection, however, provokes a smile from Groff as he recalls one tasty memory in the middle of jungle country. It was a Lebanon baloney that arrived in a care package. His fellow soldiers delighted in devouring it.
“That 5-pound Lebanon baloney would not last long!” Groff laughs.
He also remembers another rare treat in steamy Vietnam.
“We had a sergeant who brought us ice cream.”
Less pleasant was dealing with leeches; they were everywhere, Groff remembers, as was dysentery. And there were scorpions.
But that was nothing compared to the death, destruction, and constant anxiety that continued to take its toll on Groff after he got home. What we now abbreviate as PTSD crept into his mind. It’s a subject that wasn’t acknowledged then as much as it is today.
“I would have nightmares,” Groff says. “For 40 years, I got three or four hours of sleep a night.”
As with many veterans of various conflicts, Groff didn’t talk much about his experiences after he returned to the States. In retrospect, he realizes “it wasn’t good to hold it in. It did more damage … It was Janet who got me to see somebody.”
Groff found some solace in work, when he became a certified public accountant.
“He was always busy helping somebody else,” his wife says.
But there were still PTSD demons to be dealt with. Groff turned to the written word, in the form of poetry.
One work, simply titled “PTSD,” compares the disorder taking root in his head, like a weed, which “[dominates] my subconscious / Until the time was right / To break through the surface / The start of sleepless nights.”
Groff has visited the Washington, D.C., Vietnam Veterans Memorial, which many simply call “The Wall.” It was a long time until he could do that. But the memorial did inspire another poem, titled “Tears by the Wall,” which notes the emotions of the American people about the war.
“This war was viewed with such disdain / That many said they died in vain / I was there, I saw some fall / I fought with those named on this wall.”
For his own service, Groff was awarded the Silver Star, the Air Medal, and a Good Conduct Medal, among other honors.
Today, Groff keeps busy as treasurer at Vietnam Veterans of America, Chapter 542, in Harrisburg.
“We have a good chapter,” he says.
But Groff’s thoughts turn toward today’s military forces serving in places such as Iraq and Afghanistan. Groff feels he’s been thanked enough.
“Let’s concentrate on today’s guys,” he says.