40 years after the war Vietnam veteran shares personal narrative of pain and redemption

CJ Dablo
Staff Writer
A week before the Memorial Day holiday weekend, Army veteran Richard Burton recalled the days when he was a young kid just out of high school and drafted to serve in Vietnam. It’s been 40 years since Saigon fell and the U.S. withdrew its presence from that country, but the painful memories of that conflict in Southeast Asia had left their mark on Burton and many other men and women who served in the armed forces.

On a late Tuesday afternoon at a coffee shop near Long Beach’s Bixby Park, the 68-year-old eagerly flipped open a scrapbook full of clippings and pictures from his Army days.
He reached for a picture that’s dated 1968— a younger Burton with hair cropped down to a government-issue crew cut. Attired in baggy Army fatigues, he stood in front of a helicopter and squinted in the sunshine. At the time, he was about 21 and stationed in Vietnam’s Central Highlands.
He served in the 17th Air Cavalry in various roles. He piloted the helicopters, maintained them and even fired the guns sometimes. He recalled the blasts of rockets and mortar fire that would awaken him any time between 2am and 4am.
He remembered the friends who lost their lives. Back then, he said, they didn’t often make any announcements when there was a casualty. They’d simply clean out a locker when it would happen. That’s how he would know.
There were protestors stateside who criticized America’s role in the war and threw tomatoes at Burton and the other soldiers in Oakland as they were about to board their ship, Burton said. The lack of support and the memories of combat took their toll on him when his tour of duty finished.
“It was bitter for a long time,” Burton said. “A long time. I think a lot of us were stuck. And some of the soldiers! from [the] Vietnam era [were] really stuck. They don’t know what to do. You can see it!.still homeless, still with addictions.”

Those dark feelings didn’t easily leave Burton. Shortly after his military service, Burton said he tried to seek counseling and request medical services from the local Veterans Administration (VA) Long Beach Medical Center, but he was rejected. He was told at the time that his injuries weren’t service-connected.
“I didn’t know what to do,” Burton said. “I wasn’t sleeping well!every time a door slammed, I’d jump five feet in the air. I just needed some counseling.”
Eventually he adjusted to civilian life. He had worked in the golf industry and owned a sporting-goods store. Later he bought a pool business and eventually retired.
Help finally came in 2004 when he badly hurt his foot after stepping on the plug of his daughter’s hair dryer on the floor. In pain, he took another chance and showed up at the VA hospital. This time, it wasn’t a problem for him to sign up for medical benefits.
He said that for 26 years he never went to the doctor because he couldn’t afford it. Up until that time, Burton didn’t know that he could get any services from the VA.
Grateful, he began to freely donate his time to the VA. Shortly after he retired from his business, he began to volunteer to help transport patients in wheelchairs and gurneys to their clinic appointments. Soon he signed up to work with the youth who were also donating their time. He started to feel like a father to those kids.
While Burton acknowledged that he didn’t seek formal counseling through the VA, he described how the time spent volunteering felt therapeutic. He saw how other soldiers struggled with the same sadness that he had felt following Vietnam, and he emphasized how he wanted to help.
“I do not ever want our veterans to be treated like we were treated when we came home,” he said. “Never.”
That warm afternoon, Burton squinted in the sun and pushed his black thin-rimmed glasses back onto his face before he posed for a photograph. He still cuts his hair in a close crop. He easily chuckled at himself, declaring he had so many stories to tell.
Not all of them were sad tales from his days in Vietnam. He remembered seeing comedian Bob Hope perform for the troops and catching a glimpse of actress Raquel Welch in a jeep painted pink by the soldiers. He remembered building a makeshift Christmas tree there in Vietnam.
He had a lot of critical things to say about the war that is estimated to have claimed nearly 60,000 American lives, but he is also the man who eventually found purpose and healing among fellow soldiers, wheeling one at a time across the hospital floor.