My Life Between the Dimensions

The Di An Diary--Memoirs From The Vietnam War  Part Two: "I Am Dagger Zulu" Author's Preface :   I was part of the reactionary forces inserted as a response to the TET Offensive beginning  January 30, 1968.and officially ending September 23, 1968.  Almost 17,000 American lives were lost in 1968 alone (over 87,000 wounded), the highest count by far of any year in the war.  Of the total  number of Americans killed in the war over almost 20 years, officially documented as 58,479, 28,679 were killed in 1968-1969 during my time there in the TOC and field. Almost half of all lives lost in a 20 year war occurred in that one year span ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Specialist 4th Class Keith Ragan Spring of 1968 upon arrival at Di An forward base camp . I went by "cattle car" the next morning after receiving my orders to report to the “Big Red One” in Di An. My ride ...

The Di An Diary--Memoirs From The Vietnam War Part One: You Are In The Army Now   That First Haircut in Basic.  You are in the Army now! "I was drafted in 12 Sep 1967 into the U.S. Army while working to save enough money to re-enter college. I was bused from the Arcade Theater in Paducah to Ft. Knox, Kentucky where I completed basic training, and AIT (Advanced Individual Training). I also attended and completed the curriculum at the 1st United States Army NCO Academy at Ft. Knox upon the recommendation of my Platoon Sergeant, Raymond Davis. At the Academy I was selected as platoon leader by my drill instructors. First to dress, then fall out the rest.  Platoon Sergeant Keith Ragan at 1st U.S. Army NCO Academy, Fort Knox, Ky.  December 1967. My AIT was designated as Signal Corps, in the field of communications and security. I was ranked first in my class and among four that were selected from a class of approximately sixty to end AIT early based on class rank,...

For 45 years I would not talk about my military service.  Not with my sons who asked me about it a number of times over the years.  Not with my closest friends. I used to see gray haired men in the fast food establishments having breakfast with a cluster of friends, all with their caps denoting military service, and I would just nod my appreciation and smile at the thought that one day this would probably be me. But, I never bought or wore a cap with military designation throughout the greater part of my adult life.  And I never had any desire to reminisce at all.  For some strange reason in the past couple of years, I have bought several of caps bearing the emblem of my branch of service and theater of service.  A few years ago, when my brother Ken and I would take one of our road trips, I began to bring up some of the memories and he would suffer several minutes of my trip back into the late 1960’s.  Two years ago I finally gave some insight to my s...

If my time on earth had a portal allowing access to my “happy places” of a full and long life, this certainly would be one of mine.  Cross Key was only perhaps a 30 minute drive south from my home West of Homestead, Florida, and it connected the mainland to Key Largo and access to all the small tracts of land making up the Florida Keys all the way to Key West.  It was a place from which to launch a boat from a primitive ramp into the  backcountry cuts and creeks of Florida Bay and escape into isolation from the crazy stress of a Miami workplace.  It was the ancient home of the Calusa and Tequesta, and it remained as then, still. I usually would go alone at this time of day, slipping the 17’ Dolphin open fisherman from the trailer two or three hours before sunset, and motor through channels and cuts between small keys until arriving at about 45  minutes from the ramp to the mouth of a creek already teeming with baitfish and shrimp and the accompanying swirl...

COMING HOME TO THE CIVILIAN WORKPLACE Thoughts of a Returning Soldier Spring 1969 I appreciate the time you are affording me to interview for a job that I need to get back to normalcy and civilian life and to be a financial contributor to a new marriage.  But, it is really depressing that you could be any one of the dozen other talking faces that have interviewed me already.   No work you say?  Not enough experience?  Or maybe you could find something for a few hours a week? Can’t you at least act as if I am not disrupting your day and time?   How can anyone with a brain and heart not appreciate the value of a soldier returning to civilian life from responsibilities in a war?  You cannot compare what your life has taught you, revealed to you, challenged you, to that person if you have not lived and experienced it, too.  We do not know how to fail, because to do so has meant forfeit of life and purpose, our own and those that depended...

THE LIFE AND DEATH OF MY FIRST CAR "The Fridge" Estes Lane, McCracken County, KY 1962 Getting a driver’s license was an anticipated rite of passage for everyone of teen-aged years in the 1960’s.  A passage into independence, freedom, exploration, and everything cool.  And of course, for me at least, the anticipation had a little something to do with girls. Who am I kidding?  It had a lot to do with girls. My first car was one Dad got for me at a cost of fifty dollars.  It was a tank of car, and I don’t know if that was Dad’s way of protecting my skinny and rambunctious teen self, or it was just the cheapest thing he could find and afford.  It was a two tone, green 1954 Oldsmobile 88 four door, 324 block, Rocket V-8 with the four speed automatic transmission, the best I can recall. The paint was faded and dull which helped the overall appearance some.  A little rust. Elvis would look like Steve Buscemi on a bad hair day in the car. I didn't i...