Thirty men and boys left Anderson to die in Vietnam, never to come home again.

Another 3,000 or so young Andersonians, almost all men, would have served during the dozen or so years of the war, from the mid-’60s to 1975. A few hundred would have come home suffering the physical wounds of battle; all the rest returned with only the mental scars war leaves behind for her many minions.

I was one of those boys who left Anderson for that war, drafted in 1965 after three and a half years at Anderson College. I spent two years in Vietnam, ending my second tour in January 1971, and came home physically unscathed, but knowing at some level that I would never fully leave behind that beautiful country, or her people, or that ugly, awesome, evil, righteous, vicious, cruel, just war. As privates and generals have both observed, “war is hell” and “war is beautiful,” often at the same time.

Now I am going back to Vietnam, for the first time in 36 years this week, and I want to share that experience with my hometown, Anderson, the place that helped make me what I was when I first left for war. My daughter, born while I was studying Vietnamese in Monterey, Calif. (I had married my college sweetheart after I was drafted), will be going with me.

Those 30 boys from Anderson will be with me too. I knew none of them personally. I recognized family names, and had gone to high school with the older brother of one soldier, but did not know the brother well at all. Since the war, I have met both mothers and wives of other men lost in the war, and so appreciate as much as one can what the families of our 30 boys went through.

I also lost comrades-in-arms to the war, fellow soldiers and friends, American, Vietnamese and Montagnard alike, men I respected and cared about. And after 1975, I lost touch with my Vietnamese counterparts and their families, people who had become friends more than just allies.

Now, as American men and women are once again dying in poorly understood wars, this time in the Middle East, (Anderson and Madison County have lost several men in Iraq and Afghanistan) it seems an especially good time to share that old war, especially with my old hometown.

As I noted above, Vietnam is a most beautiful country. The coastline, especially from Nha Trang to Danang and Hue (and Ha Long Bay near Hanoi, so I hear and will soon find out) is spectacular. Stunning white beaches, crystal blue and green ocean, palm trees and verdant, deep-green-crowned mountain ridges pushing into the ocean. I remember being surprised by the beauty of the bright green rice paddies checkerboard between the ocean and the highlands as I flew into Saigon for the first time, that thought pushing aside for a moment all the unanswered questions attendant to flying into one’s first live war.

So I will bring my old hometown, and my high school and college classmates, and the souls of her 30 lost sons, with me as I go back. I hope to share the beauty and promise of Vietnam today (shirts and jackets made in Vietnam are on sale in Wal-Mart and Target) and remember my old hometown as she moves from GM and Delco/Delphi to Nestlé. Through the pages of the paper I delivered as a boy, I’ll give you a look at that old war, and the new Vietnam emerging today, and perhaps bring home both peace and closure for me and those 30 families.

Please join me, Anderson, one and all.

Burris will return from Vietnam Sept. 17 and once again share his emotional experience with a column that will be featured in the People & Places section.

Any local residents, old friends, or family and friends of the 30 men lost to the war can e-mail Burris at jburris155@aol.com. He will have e-mail access during his trip.