War and (Inner) Peace:

Exploring the Prevalence of Vietnam War Memoirs

Madeline Troha

Brown University

Professor Beverly Haviland

AMST1905X: Public Memory

          Novelist John Gregory Dunne once remarked, “what is astonishing about the social history of the Vietnam War is not how many people avoided it, but how many people could not and did not.” Tim O’Brien and Philip Caputo are two of these men who could not escape the trauma of the Vietnam War. Both men fought in the war, and both men subsequently wrote memoirs on their experiences. But why? This is the question I seek to address throughout this paper.

          There are multiple facts of this question that must be addressed in order to formulate a comprehensive answer. First, I will touch upon the theories on narration and the author in relation to the reader in order to explain the dynamics of narration in non-fiction. Second, I will look at both psychological and theoretical approaches that support the concept of writing as a coping mechanism. Here, I will explore the role of the ‘witness’ in this therapeutic process. Finally, I will analyze two distinct Vietnam war memoirs written by veterans: If I Die in a Combat Zone by Tim O’Brien and A Rumor of War by Philip Caputo. Not only will I look at what the authors write, but I will look at how they write in order to understand the reasoning behind their authorship in the first place. After exploring each step in the narrating process, I hope to reach a conclusion to this question and be able to explain the prevalence of memoirs in the years following the Vietnam War.

THEORETICAL FRAMEWORK

          In order to understand the reasons why one would want to write a memoir, one must first understand the dynamics of narration. Two academic works, The Implied Reader by Wolfgang Iser and Somebody Telling Somebody Else by James Phelan, seek to address these dynamics. Iser analyzes to whom an author is intending to write versus who is actually reading the work. Phelan then expounds upon this theory. He creates a model for non-fiction narratives, and he describes two tropes that are commonly used in narration that are present in many war memoirs: underreporting and deficient narration. By examining these two theorists, one will acquire the information necessary to understand what narration is and to whom the author is writing. After this analysis is complete, one may go beyond general non-fiction and will be able to apply these concepts to a subset of non-fiction – memoirs, specifically those surrounding traumatic events such as war.

The Implied Reader

          There are two vital components to all narration: a reader and an author. The Implied Reader by Wolfgang Iser focuses on the former. Iser introduces the concept of the implied reader versus the actual reader in narration. The “implied reader” is the hypothetical figure who is likely to understand most of what the author has intended. This being said, most authors have a certain type of reader in mind when they write their book. This intended reader will be able to fill in any gaps in the author’s writing and will be able to comprehend the author’s literary devices. However, the implied reader is typically not the person who ends up reading the book. The person who has chosen to read the work is called the “actual reader.” The actual reader will not be able to understand all the literary devices the author uses and may not completely grasp the message the author is intending to send. Instead, the reader interprets the text in his own way, and his interpretation will be shaped by his own personal experiences and knowledge.

Somebody Telling Somebody Else

            Once the concept of readership is understood, one must address the second component of narration: the author in relation to the reader. James Phelan’s Somebody Telling Somebody Else takes Iser’s work a step further and analyzes the rhetoric of testimony and of narration in general. He defines narrative as “somebody telling somebody else on some occasion for some purpose that something happened.”[1] As with all narrations, this is the case in the Vietnam war memoirs I will analyze later in this research. He asserts that there is an archetype called the narrative communication model that illustrates exactly who is speaking to whom in non-fiction works. Below is a depiction of this model:

Real author à [implied author à narrator à narratee à implied reader] à real reader

In the case of the war memoirs, the reader assumes that he is the real reader and that the real author is, in this particular research, either Tim O’Brien or Philip Caputo himself. However, this is not always the case. In non-fiction narratives, Phelan argues that the narrator is usually the implied author. This means that the narrator is able to look back at the experience he is recalling while giving additional commentary he has available to him now that he is physically removed from the situation. In the case of one story he is studying, Phelan asserts that the one who is narrating is able to point out the “magical thinking” of the one who is experiencing the situation and accept this as a coping mechanism being used to deal with death.[2] Although the book he mentions is not a war memoir, it directly applies to both O’Brien’s and Caputo’s works. From his current standpoint – the position from which he is writing the book – the veteran narrator is able to articulate what happened and see connections between events that he may not have recognized while he was going through the event himself. This position of the implied author contributes greatly to the writing of these two memoirs and their ability to communicate the lessons they have learned in the time since the trauma. 

            Phelan goes on to highlight two common tropes present in non-fiction writing that are clearly evident in both Vietnam memoirs, specifically O’Brien’s work. The first is the notion of underreporting. This occurs when “one deliberately creat[es] ethical distance between implied author and character narrator and invit[es] the audience to wonder what exactly happened in that scene/situation.”[3] O’Brien consistently uses this tactic to avoid detailing the specific atrocities or traumatic experiences he faced in Vietnam; by not retelling the story, he does not have to relive it himself. The second trope is the concept of deficient narration. This appears when “author, narrator, and authorial audience align, but the actual audience views all three of them as off-kilter.”[4] In O’Brien’s book, this narration manifests itself when the reader sees a seemingly random shift from first-person to second-person narration without warning. This paper will later analyze the reasons for these tropes and the significance of their presence in O’Brien’s war memoir and others similar to it.

FROM “HOW?” TO “WHY?”

            In both memoirs, O’Brien and Caputo are recalling their experience while interweaving their current thoughts and opinions of the Vietnam War. Additionally, considering that both books have been widely distributed across multiple countries since their publication, various people have read their books – all approaching the work with their own unique backgrounds, experiences, and opinions. Thus, according to Phelan and Iser’s work, in both memoirs the author would be considered the “implied author” while the reader would be seen as the “actual reader.”

            After recognizing these relationships between the author and the reader, one begins to understand how narration is transcribed. But this understanding begs a supplemental question: why? Why does the author feel compelled to write about this specific subject? In this research, why are these two Vietnam veterans recalling their most traumatic experience, only to have it read by people whom they do not know? The answer to this question is not simple, nor is it universal. However, based on by evidence from psychological studies and Dr. Dori Laub, I attest that the writing of a traumatic event, such as war, not only allows the author to begin to cope with his trauma, but it gives him an audience with whom he can share this experience. This aforementioned evidence will be analyzed further in the following section.

WRITING AS A COPING MECHANISM

          According to numerous psychological studies, writing about trauma is beneficial for the victim on both emotional and physical levels. A study conducted by psychologist James W. Pennebaker in 1988 concluded that those who participated in writing sessions in which they were instructed to write about a traumatic event in their lives reported more positive moods and fewer illnesses than those who did not write.[5] A follow-up study by the same psychologist was led at the Dallas Memorial Center for Holocaust Studies and found that Holocaust survivors who disclosed about their trauma in-depth experienced better health the following year.[6] Then, in 1999, two psychologists conducted a study on group of patients experiencing physical ailments in which they asked the patients to record the most stressful event of their lives. After four months, the group that recorded their trauma showed clinical improvement in the severity of their symptoms.[7] All three of these studies prove that writing can be a successful means of coping with trauma.

          Theoretical research also links writing with the improvement of trauma. In work by Anderson and MacCurdy, “writing itself is therapy – survivors can heal themselves through the writing process.”[8] Others take this a step further and claim that not only does writing document the recovery process, but it actively facilitates it.[9] This notion of writing as a step in the healing process can be directly linked to one’s experience in war, and, thus, the writing of war memoirs. What experience is more traumatic than risking one’s own life on a daily basis, only to return home scorned? 

          While it is not physical trauma these authors are alleviating, they are assuaging emotional and psychological damage that has been festering within them since they first experienced the trauma. Author Jennifer Sinor asserts, "telling war stories…is primarily an act of testimony, a public ritual of healing. Through the act of telling, the stories, and hence the ones behind the stories, are remembered, are honored. Those who tell their own stories begin to heal.”[10] Through the writing of memoirs, authors such as O’Brien and Caputo are able to articulate their pain and share it with others in the hopes that it may lessen some of their own suffering. While the author is the one who suffered the trauma and is now expressing it, the witness is not a passive bystander that remains unaffected by the matter. Dr. Dori Laub’s theories on the role of the witness in this healing process further establish why war memoirs may be necessary for the veteran’s full recovery.

Testimony

            Unlike the previous two academic works, Laub does not discuss the importance of diction in narration; instead, he looks at why the process of narrating is necessary for those who have experienced trauma. In two chapters of the book Testimony: Crises of Witnessing in Literature, Psychoanalysis, and History, Laub examines the role of the witness in the retelling of traumatic events. There are two types of witnesses that are essential to the relaying of a traumatic event: the internal witness and the external witness. In chapter two, Laub focuses on the external witness. The role of such a witness – someone outside of one’s own mind – is necessary as a coping mechanism to deal with one’s suffering. As Laub eloquently elaborates, “bearing witness to trauma is, in fact, a process that includes the listener. For the testimonial process to take place, there needs to be a bonding, the intimate and total presence of an other – in the position of one who hears. Testimonies…cannot take place in solitude.”[11]

Thus, in order for one to disclose their own trauma, there has to be someone else there to listen. And this listener is a necessary component in the coping process. When a victim trusts you to hear his traumatic experience, “the listener to trauma comes to be a participant and a co-owner of the traumatic event: through his very listening, he comes to partially experience the trauma in himself.”[12] In this way, the victim feels as though he has a companion in the journey of trauma – someone to share his or her experiences without judgement.

          When analyzing war memoirs, this theory is crucial. The only way a veteran is able to relate his past trauma and experiences is if he feels that he is not alone. Without a listener, without someone “who can hear the anguish of one’s memories and thus affirm and recognize their realness,” the victim may never be able to address his past.[13] In the case of Vietnam veterans, the role of the external witness is vital to their testimony. After the war, veterans returned home to a society that scorned them, that threw them onto the street. By having someone who will listen to his pain and go on this intense journey into the past with him, the veteran may feel accepted and as though, finally, someone can see what he went through in the jungles of Vietnam.

Laub considers the telling of one’s trauma “a therapeutic process of constructing a narrative, of reconstructing history and essentially re-externalizing the event” necessary in order for the trauma victim to ever recover.[14] By telling his story to someone else, the victim transfers the story onto the listener and is then able to see the event from an outsider’s perspective. Once this is done, the victim is able to process the experience and accept it as his own. This is exactly what Caputo, O’Brien, and many other Vietnam veterans are trying to accomplish through their war memoirs. By writing down what they experienced – by knowing that people are listening to their trauma – they may begin to deal with the pain that has lingered within them since the war. Just as Peter Covino writes, these memoirs, “…help writers look 'at causes and consequences' of trauma, thus enabling them to transform themselves from victims to survivors.”[15]

          In chapter three, Laub goes on to discuss why victims may be reluctant to reiterate their trauma. One common trope visible in Vietnam War literature is the notion that one cannot understand what the soldiers went through unless they themselves were in the war. Laub asserts that this is applicable to many other traumatic events as well, including the Holocaust. In all trauma, “survivors often claim that they experience the feeling of belonging to a ‘secret order’ that is sworn to silence.”[16] That is why most testimonies, including these war memoirs, occur years after the traumatic event. In their time away from the event, victims may feel “that the rest of the world will never know the real truth, the one that involved the destruction of their humanity.”[17]                   Therefore, for Vietnam veterans, the testimony is a means of reclaiming oneself. It is a means of retaliating against the stereotypes society created of the Vietnam soldier: a deranged, psychotic, killing machine. By testifying to their own experiences, not only are the veterans helping to reclaim themselves, but they are helping to reclaim an entire community of soldiers. They are attempting to explain what happened and what they were forced to do, and they set out to prove that few soldiers actually fit the stereotype of the brutal Vietnam soldier that permeates popular culture. The memoirs by Caputo and O’Brien are another attempt at ridding the reader of this stereotype, as well as enlightening the reader to the harsh realities of war and of the lack of control many soldiers had over their own actions in Vietnam. 

IF I DIE IN A COMBAT ZONE

What He Writes

          If I Die in a Combat Zone, Box Me Up and Ship Me Home is a 1973 memoir by Tim O’Brien that focuses on his time in the army during the Vietnam War. Unlike Caputo, O’Brien frequently debated the morality of the war and of his service in the marines long before he was drafted. He contemplated his moral obligation to abstain from killing with the army chaplain, and, at one moment, he almost deserted his service. However, as was the case with many soldiers, O’Brien felt like he had a social contract in which he had to fight for his country in order to avoid embarrassment and humiliation for both him and his family.[18] This contract also served to maintain the equilibrium of society, and O’Brien believed he could not disturb that balance. To combat this moral conundrum, he and a friend from basic training would write each other letters in an effort to “form a coalition of resistance” and “preserve their own souls.”[19] O’Brien arrived in Vietnam in 1969 and remained there until he finished his tour of duty in 1970.

          This memoir is unlike any of those I have read before. The narration is straightforward and without frills, almost making it seem like an objective account. He does include various conversations between him and fellow officers, but rarely does he include any more detail than the dialogue itself. He seldom mentions his own personal emotions, how he responds to certain situations or officers, or what is going through his mind at any moment. Even when he recounts his past, the description seems superficial: minimal adjectives and no embellishments, just facts. Perhaps this is a tactic by O’Brien aimed at remaining detached from the situations of his past. By not providing detailed accounts of the events, he does not force himself to relive the war.

          More interesting than what O’Brien does not describe is what he does choose to describe. There are four separate topics in which O’Brien seems to delve into vivid detail. The first of those is physical movements. On page 34, O’Brien recalls exactly how he and his fellow officers were walking, how their legs were robotically moving. This could be because, for some reason, he recalls these events most specifically. However, I am doubtful of this considering the later events in Vietnam would likely overshadow these seemingly meaningless instances. Instead, I assert that, by focusing on arbitrary physical movements, O’Brien is directing the conversation away from himself, away from his individuality, and away from his emotions. If he talks about physical objects, such as legs, then it releases him from the burden of talking about the emotional or psychological changes that were also occurring at that same time. Perhaps walking was one of the few exercises in which he partook that had no ethical qualms surrounding it.

          The second topic in which O’Brien allows himself to go into detail is instances of American brutality. He perfectly recreates a situation in which a US military officer throws a milk carton at an old, blind Vietnamese man, causing him to bleed.[20] He painstakingly illustrates a dying Vietnamese woman who was accidentally murdered by a US soldier, thinking it was a Viet Cong fighter.[21] He reconstructs a scene in which, when his battalion threw grenades into a foxhole trying to force out Viet Cong, one soldier is pulled out dead and the other is struggling to survive.[22] Although these situations are incredibly graphic, they are not exaggerated or embellished in any way. The descriptions are short, brief, and succinct. Regardless, their mere presence implies that O’Brien is attempting to depict the mistakes of the American soldiers. He does not want to comply with the classic stereotype of the moral soldier that was prevalent after the World Wars, and he does not want to mislead his readers. Instead, he attempts to give an accurate depiction of war and the atrocities of which man is capable – of the harsh realness of war that readers do not want to see, but, in his opinion, need to see in order to understand the trauma this event has caused him and many others.

          The third subject to which O’Brien pays close attention to is his own dreams. At one point in the book, he rehashes a dream he once had when he was fourteen years old, and the description goes on for a full page. Like the other topics, this dream could be a way to prevent talking about emotions or inner thoughts. But I believe that it is included for two other reasons. First, as T.J. Lustig argues, this dream exemplifies the need for metaphor in O’Brien’s story.[23] O’Brien somehow has to relate his war experiences to those of the common man, and the telling of this dream is his way of reminding the reader that he is not a mysterious killing robot; he has dreams and thoughts just like everyone else. Secondly, the nightmare may also serve as a foreshadowing of the events to come. He dreams of being in prison, of being chased by captors, of running away in the cold, hard rain, and of being led back into the captor’s arms. This plot is eerily reminiscent of his situation in Vietnam. Here he is, in a foreign land, running from an unknown enemy as gunfire hails all around him. As far as he runs, even towards the place of safety, he can never escape; he is always brought back into this hell.[24] This is Vietnam for O’Brien. He tries to escape, tries to run towards safety, and, yet, he never actually makes it. Even when he leaves Vietnam, he can never escape the hell of what he experienced; mentally, he cannot be free again. In this description, the reader learns more about O’Brien’s sentiments toward the war and his feeling of entrapment than O’Brien ever articulates himself.

            The final subject that O’Brien focuses on is normal, everyday interactions while in war. On multiple occasions, he discusses how officers would attend floor shows and visit places of prostitution on a regular basis.[25] Other times, he reiterates word-for-word the dialogue between an officer and his captain for no apparent reason. Then, at the end of the book comes the moment in which O’Brien provides more detail than any other time: when he is boarding the plane, leaving Vietnam, and heading home.[26] All of these encounters seem separate and distinct from one another, but they are included in his narrative for the same reason: to humanize him and the other officers. All three instances are those that do not focus on the war. Prostitution is not solely associated with war. These conversations between officers are not necessarily about the military; they are discussions that you could hear walking along the street in New York City. Finally, a plane ride –the journey home from a far-off destination – is something almost every person has gone through once in their life. These instances are included to allow the reader to identify with both O’Brien and his comrades. It proves that, while what these soldiers are doing may seem inhuman to some, they are still human.

What He Doesn’t Write

            Unlike Caputo, O’Brien does not delve into psychological or emotional shifts. He focuses on facts, on events, and on physical descriptions. However, when one analyzes O’Brien’s work, one will find more telling information in how he writes than what he writes. One way to analyze this is through the author’s use of literary devices. Two devices O’Brien uses frequently are similes and metaphors. He uses it to compare his experiences of war and the military with everyday items: boredom with a frying pan, hunger with a stovetop, dripping blood with a bathtub.[27] Like the vivid descriptions, these literary devices are meant to humanize both O’Brien and his experience. However, their primary use is one of universality. O’Brien, like many Vietnam veterans, recognize that many people who read about this war cannot fully understand what he went through unless they were there. By comparing his military encounters with everyday items, O’Brien is allowing the reader to understand in their own terms. By relating to common experiences, he is bridging the gap between what the average citizen can and cannot comprehend about something they have never experienced themselves.

            Another interesting tactic O’Brien uses throughout his book is his seemingly random use of second-person narration. Frequently he will say things such as, “you begin to sweat… you light a cigarette… you stare at faces,” or “You start muttering to yourself. You wish you had a friend. You feel alone and sad and scared and desperate. You want to run.”[28] This is where the complexity of the narrative communication model from Phelan’s work is illustrated. When reading this book, it feels as though there is only one real author and he is directly speaking to the implied reader. However, when O’Brien addresses “you,” this distinction is not apparent. Are “you” the real reader? And is the rest of the book addressed to the implied reader? In her essay on this memoir, Marilyn Wesley claims that his use of second-person narration stems from his desperate need to engage the reader in his story. She asserts, “Through its representation of easily identifiable physical and emotional effects, [it] insists that the alien experience of war in Vietnam is directly transferable.”[29] Once again, another aspect of O’Brien’s storytelling is based upon his need to humanize himself and allow the audience to experience what he saw and how he felt in their own way.

            Finally, the most obvious literary tactic used in O’Brien’s work is what Phelan calls “underreporting.” For example, when looking back at the war, O’Brien states, “It was over. Things happened, things came to an end.”[30] This tactic is further exemplified through the gaps in the timeline of his story. In the first few chapters, there is no continuity; each chapter jumps back and forth between present and past without warning. Clearly, he is leaving out vast amounts of detail and explanation. However, just like his lack of emotional description, O’Brien’s use of underreporting allows himself some sort of distance from the event. If his story is fragmented, maybe he will not recall the events in the same manner or experience the same emotional response. By not providing descriptions of these events, he himself is not forced to re-experience the trauma all over again.

A RUMOR OF WAR

What He Writes

            A Rumor of War is another memoir by a Vietnam veteran regarding his time in the war. The author is Philip Caputo: a marine who spent the years of 1965-1966 fighting in Vietnam. His story, like O’Brien’s, is remarkably unique. Instead of merely tracing the events of his time in war, Caputo delves into the deep psychological effects the war had on the soldiers through various stages of their time in Vietnam. He attests that he, as well as other young soldiers, experienced three mental and emotional shifts during the war. The first phase was one of excitement. These young men had seen how war and solders were depicted in previous wars, and they were eager for their chance to prove their courage and dedication to their country. This lasted until the young men arrived in Vietnam and became immersed in the fighting. The second phase was one of disillusionment. In this stage, the soldiers finally experienced the brutal realities of war, and, many times, they were asked to partake in the atrocities. As author Tobey Herzog observes, “Initial optimism, innocence, and missionary zeal gradually disappear in the face of the realities of Vietnam… Thereupon frustration, disillusionment, hatred, irrationality, and loss of humanity become a part of the soldier's life.”[31] Soon this savagery took a toll on the bodies and the minds of young soldiers. As they watched their friends and comrades get brutally murdered or blown up by the enemy, they began to lust for revenge. Caputo compares this distorted sense of self and the world as one in which the men stopped viewing themselves and the other soldiers as humans and solely saw themselves as amoral warriors.[32] Finally came the third phase of the transformation. At this moment, Caputo realized how deeply entrenched he had become in this war mentality and desperately attempted to pull himself out of this hole. This phase was exemplified through the moment in which Caputo, as well as the rest of his battalion, were on trial for the premeditated murders of two Vietnamese civilians after they returned home from Vietnam.

          Although, yes, it is another Vietnam War memoir, Caputo’s work differs exponentially from O’Brien’s piece for a couple reasons. First, Caputo’s book is almost twice the length of O’Brien’s. Although this may not seem significant, it does allow for much more vivid descriptions and the ability to give an in-depth description of each situation. This leads to the works’ second difference. Unlike O’Brien, Caputo never shied away from explaining in great detail how he felt at any given moment or what was going through his mind in each scenario. In part, this could be due to the distinct objectives each author had for writing his book. For O’Brien, his book seems to be a simple relaying of events that includes a basic, superficial glimpse of the Vietnam War through the lens of a soldier. Caputo, however, clearly communicates the purpose for writing his memoir in the prologue. He hopes that this book “might, perhaps, prevent the next generation from being crucified in the next war.”[33] For Caputo’s purpose, vivid imagery and illustrations achieve this goal. For O’Brien, these same components are unnecessary.

          However, this point also leads to the principle similarity between the two books. Although their objectives differ, the underlying reason for writing each memoir remains constant. While discussing the relationships developed between soldiers in the war, Caputo articulates, “it was as if in comradeship we found an affirmation of life and the means to preserve at least a vestige of our humanity.”[34] According to Laub’s theory, this is precisely what both authors are seeking from the reader. By sharing his own personal story, the author – in this case, the veteran – needs a witness. He needs someone to accompany him through his journey and to make him feel as though he is no longer alone in the experience. Both authors are desperately hoping that the reader may take up the role of their fellow comrades: someone to affirm their decisions and remind them that they are human beings, not murderous villains.

What He Doesn’t Write

            In this memoir, Caputo probes into his emotional and psychological being throughout the war. He is closely attuned to his own inner self, as well as how the war is affecting his perception of the world and how it forces him to reprioritize his morals. Given that, there is much less left unsaid than was present in O’Brien’s book. However, regardless of what the authors discuss, how he discusses it may provide additional insight into his mindset as he was writing this book. And Caputo is no exception.

            One of the literary devices that Caputo enlists in his writing is imagery. Through his vivid descriptions, the author feels as though they, too, are in those same rice patties, hearing bullets fly by their helmets, smoke clouding their vision. Caputo focuses much of his writing on these images, and it truly forces the reader to be present in that experience with him. When discussing flares, Caputo writes, “they hung briefly in the black sky, then started to drift downward on their small parachutes, swinging back and forth, making a strange, squeaking noise as they swung into the wind.”[35] Although the subject seems arbitrary, Caputo illustrates the snares in a way that allows the reader to visualize the scene perfectly. As previously articulated, by writing this memoir, Caputo is seeking a companion with whom he can share his journey. Not only that, he yearns for a reader who can understand his actions and can reaffirm that his mistakes were not his fault – that he was also a victim to the war. By painting such meticulous, sharp pictures of each place, each person, and each encounter, he is forcing the reader to experience the past just as he did.

            Like O’Brien, Caputo also employs the frequent use of metaphors and similes. The motivation for this, like with the previous memoir, is one of universality and humanization. By comparing sounds of war with the sounds of everyday life, it reminds the reader that the narrator was, and still is, an ordinary human being; war does not negate the basic human instincts and experiences of everyday life. Furthermore, these devices allow the reader to understand the narrator’s experiences in their own terms. While the reader may not be able to picture how heatstroke manifests itself in a soldier, they can imagine a drunk man stumbling and twirling.[36] This brings the reader in, allowing him to feel as though the experience is not as foreign as he may like to think.

            The third literary device Caputo employs is his choice of diction. Throughout the entirety of his memoir, Caputo uses relatively short, simple, common words. Each sentence is easy to understand, regardless of who may be reading the book. Like the other techniques, this, too, serves as a means of universality. By choosing familiar words and not bombarding the reader with enigmatic phrases, the reader is, perhaps unconsciously, able to comprehend the point that the author is trying to convey. The author is essentially lowering himself to the level of the average reader in an effort to acquire as many witnesses possible to accompany him on his voyage through history.

CONCLUSION

            The Vietnam War remains a contentious topic today; many veterans who fought in the jungles of Vietnam still refuse to discuss what happened in that distant country. So how do we find out about the war? Many learn through the reading of memoirs. But those who do should approach this quest with background knowledge – such as understanding the relationship between author and reader or recognizing why psychologists commonly use writing as a means of coping with trauma.

          My original question asked, “Why do Vietnam veterans partake in the writing of memoirs?” Based on my research, I conclude that both O’Brien and Caputo have written their memoirs as part of their own coping process with the trauma of war. As Wallis Wilde-Menozzi eloquently summarizes, “Memory does hide, run, bury and yet it carries, inundates, and redeems… in its way of passing on, it becomes a defiant warrior who witnesses. Once stories are freed and released, the present is altered, added to.”[37] By sharing their stories, O’Brien and Caputo are freeing themselves from the past and taking control of their future. However, in order to do this, they need an audience – someone to witness their past, to understand their decisions, and to affirm their choices. They need to know that they are not alone.

          So next time you are walking through the bookstore and you see a table filled with war memoirs, pick one up. Perhaps it will help you gain insight in some way, or perhaps not. Regardless, by simply reading one of these books, you are allowing the author to share in his experience, to recall the trauma of his past, and to move on with his life. All he needs is you to accompany him on his journey.

SOURCES

American Psychological Association. “Open Up! Writing About Trauma Reduces Stress, Aids Immunity.” APA.Org. October 23, 2003. http://www.apa.org/research/action/writing.aspx.

Caputo, Philip. A Rumor of War. New York: Holt, Rinehart, and Winston, 1977.

Covino, Peter. “The Poetics of Trauma: Intertextuality, Rhythm, and Concision in Vertigo and Writing as a Way of Healing.” In Personal Effects: Essays on Memoir, Teaching, and Culture in the Work of Louise DeSalvo. New York, NY: Forham University Press, 2014. http://www.jstor.org/stable/pdf/j.ctt13x0bjp.6.pdf.

Epstein, Renee. “Talking Dirty: Memories of War and the Vietnam War Novel.” The Massachusetts Review 34, no. 3 (1993): 457-480. http://www.jstor.org/stable/pdf/25090459.pdf.

Felman, Shoshana and Dori Laub. Testimony: Crises of Witnessing in Literature, Psychoanalysis, and History. New York, NY: Routledge, 1992.

Herzog, Tobey C. “Writing about Vietnam: A Heavy Heart-of-Darkness Trip.” College English 41, no. 6 (1980): 680-695. http://www.jstor.org/stable/pdf/375917.pdf.

Iser, Wolfgang. The Implied Reader: Patterns of Communication in Prose Fiction from Bunyan to Beckett. Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1974.

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