The Return of Pete Margolian

The Return of Pete Margolian

Suzanne Marsh

I was seventeen the summer of 1967. That time of my life is now just a bittersweet memory. The war in Vietnam was raging, each day the toll rose of soldiers that were either killed in action or missing in action. Pete, told me he was going to enlist and do his two years rather than wait to be drafted. That was the beginning of the end for us. Pete, was so handsome, with dark brown eyes and blond hair, I could just picture him in an Army green uniform. I was laying out in the sun when the wooden gate creaked open, there stood Pete, with a strange look on his freckled face:

“The notice came this morning, I have to report to Fort Dix, New Jersey in ten days.”

I stood up to my full height of five feet nothing, tears began to fill my blue eyes. This could not be happening. Two nights ago we began to talk about our future together, now Vietnam was entering our lives. He walked back to get his car, a 1965 blue mustang. I ran upstairs to my bedroom to throw on a pair of jean shorts and a T shirt. Grabbed my tennis shoes and was back downstairs waiting for Pete. We drove around silently, his hand on mine. I sensed that he had something on his mind but waited patiently for him to begin. He, sighed:

“I am going to take you home now, I have something I have to do. Would you like to go

to see The Graduate? I hear it is a cool movie. We can go to Bocce's for pizza, if that is

okay. Since this is going to have to be our last date until I come home I want to make

it special.”

I nodded, I still felt weepy but crying was not going to alter the fact that Vietnam was looming closer every day. I showered, teased my mousey brown hair and put on Pete's favorite dress, a pink shirt waist. I was ready and waiting for Pete at five o'clock, right on the dot, he knocked on the door. My feet felt like they were dead weight. Pete, spoke with my dad for a few minutes then we left. I loved The Graduate, the music was phenomenal. We held hands and kissed during the movie. Then Pete took me to a small abandoned stone chapel, that had once been The Chapel of Saint Thomas. Pete, took my hand and pulled me into the chapel, closing the door behind us. He reached his hand into his jeans pocket:

“I bought this today; it is a pre-engagement ring. I want to marry you but we are too young and

the chances are good I will be going to Vietnam. So, I am asking you to wait for me. Do

you remember that part of William Wordsworth poem that we used to recite?”

I nodded yes, as we took each others hand:

“What though the radiance which was once so bright; be ever taken from our sight.

Though nothing can bring back the splendor in the grass, or glory in the flower.

Grieve not, but find strength in what remains behind.”

We made love that one time, there in that small chapel. We considered ourselves man and wife until Pete returned. Pete wrote me daily from Fort Dix, then he received his orders for Advanced Infantry Training (AIT) at Fort Polk, Louisiana, the stepping stone to Vietnam. He came home for Christmas leave then in early January he shipped out for Vietnam.

Vietnam January, 1968

Pete, marched along through the countryside. He had been in country less than two weeks when his orders sent him to 196^th Light Infantry Brigade. He heard rumors about a battle taking place in Hue. He was ready he told himself. Then the bullets began to fly. His M16 burst fire at the enemy, although he was not sure that these women and children were Vietcong, but when the fire power ceased he saw men, women and children with guns and ammunition. Fear enveloped him, he thought of Lisa, his girl/wife at home. The platoon sergeant motioned them to move out. The jungle was thick with vines and undergrowth. Pete followed in the footsteps of the guy in front of him. The company hunkered down for the night. The next morning, a Chinook helicopter loaded his platoon with his squad were whisked away. The rumor was they were headed for Khe Sanh in Quang Tri Province, South Vietnam. The importance of holding Khe Sanh was simple, it was roughly eight to ten miles to Laos, the Vietcong used it to escape into Laos. The Chinook landed with Huey's flying close by, guns at the ready.

Pete jumped off and followed his friend Private Jason Mallory. Pete's squad headed into the jungle, the sergeant motioning them not to talk. Pete carried his M16 with precision, along with his backpack. Suddenly, hundreds of black pajamas and weapons struck. The firefight lasted for what seemed an eternity. Pete and Jason buddied up, trying to get some sleep but staying alert at the same time. In Vietnam sleep was a word not an action, at least if you wanted to stay alive. Pete dozed off, when he heard the rustle of a branch. He poked Jason, as they began to fire into the jungle. Pete and Jason were both taken Prisoners of War. They were forced marched toward the Vietcong camp.

February, 1968

The black desk phone rang, on a Sunday morning, just after mom, dad and I returned from church. Dad answered the phone, his face turned white. Mom rushed to him thinking he was having a heart attack, he wasn't. Tears welled in his eyes as he began:

“Lisa, that was Tillie Mongolian, the Army just notified her that Pete is a Prisoner of War.

She has no other details.”

I fainted then. When I came to, mom was chaffing my wrists. I thought I would never see Pete again.

January, 1980

I married in 1975 after all hope of Pete coming home were gone. My husband and I had been married for five years. I still had not given up hope that one day Pete would come home. Then on a cold January day, I went over to see mom and dad, there standing on the street was a walking skeleton with features that resembled Pete, but this skeleton could not be Pete or could it? I watched from the front porch to see where the skeleton walked to. He appeared, to enter Pete's home, except the Margolian's had sold their home shortly after the news about Pete arrived. To many memories.

Several days later, I saw the skeleton, once again. He smiled, the same smile Pete had. Was I loosing my mind? He continued to walk away. I went home to Bill, my husband and told him about the skeleton and that I thought it could be Pete. Bill, asked where the skeleton man went. I told him into the Margolian's old home. Even to me this sounded like wishful thinking, until the doorbell rang.

I opened it and there stood Pete, a mere skeleton of his former self, smiling at me. Pete, then turned and walked away into the fog of the early morning.