Who were they, you ask? They were the "baby boomers" - from small, country towns, from big cities, from everywhere in between. The were Southern boys, born and bred, taught to say "Yes m'am" and "No m'am" and to respect their teachers, preachers, policemen and the elderly. They were young and innocent - fresh out of high school and just beginning college or their first job and most had never traveled outside the South.
While aware of the larger picture of world events, they were more in tune with home-town happenings. Some had played football or basketball, some only wanted to be farmers, and some were more at home in the Chemistry lab than anywhwere else.
"Muscle" cars were the rage - Mustangs, GTO's, SS409's - and cruising with their friends was the thing to do. The local hangout was their destination and it generally looked like "Indians circling a wagon train" by 8:00 on a Friday night. Their radios were always tuned to their favorite stations where the Beatles were sure that "She Loves You", the Supremes wanted you to "Come See About Me", the Beach Boys admonished you to "Be True to Your School", and Roy Orbison sang about a "Pretty Woman". They danced to "Wooly Bully", "Louie Louie", "My Girl" and "The Loco-motion" and knew all the moves to the "Watusi" and the "Mashed Potato".
Their favorite TV shows were "Bonanza" and "Gomer Pyle"; "Lucy" was still the funniest show on the networks and "the Duke" was still their hero. Life was good!
Then, these young men began to notice that all was not well with their world. Martin Luther King, Jr. delivered his "I have a dream" speech. JFK was killed by a sniper's bullet and Lyndon Johnson became the new president. "The Gulf of Tonkin" began to be discussed on the nightly news and places like Viet Nam, Laos and Cambodia became household words.
The call to arms went out and, as in times before, young men answered. Some were drafted but many, many more volunteered and by the end of 1965, the world had been irrepairably altered for these "Georgia boys". They were going to learn to be soldiers.
They were tired and miserable and homesick - it was called "boot camp". After the drill instructers had finished with them, they were loaded onto planes and sent far, far away - to a steamy, wet world called Viet Nam - where "jungle rot" was no longer a phrase you used jokingly and "the enemy" looked just like everyone else.
It was a time of horror and misery for these young men. They spent most of their days wading through a bug-infested jungle - never sure what the next moment might bring, ever anxious, ever watchful and whenever they got back to camp, it was the letters and music from home that kept them going.
They will never forget the things they saw and did but for most, the "madness" finally ended and they were able to go back home.
They grow older now - these "not-so-young-anymore" Georgia men - they have homes and jobs and families - they go about the business of living.
But for 43 young Georgians, life did not get better!
They never got to go home - in fact, they are still there - in Viet Nam, in Laos, in Cambodia - in a prison or in an unmarked grave
Isaiah 40:31
Each man's name is linked to his loss information.
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