A War Story

IT WAS THE LOOK on the young boy’s face that made me linger over the faded photograph. I had been enjoying the festivities of my husband’s Second Battalion, 94th Artillery annual reunion when this one image stopped me in my tracks. I touched the photographed face of a grinning Vietnamese boy who was surrounded by soldiers in the middle of a war zone.

There was something about that face.

“That face right there is one thing that still haunts me about the war,” one veteran, Tim, told me, nodding at the photo I held in my hand. Taken in 1968 on a rough artillery base in the hills of Vietnam, four American soldiers from the Second Battalion, 94th Artillery were shoulder to shoulder. They were buddies—you could tell—and in the circle of their friendship stood a boy.

They called him Pee Wee.

Pee Wee was a sharp Vietnamese kid who recognized that the Americans offered him a chance for a better life. He quickly learned English and made friends with the soldiers, convincing them to let him do their laundry. Word spread and soon the Americans were delivering truckloads of dirty laundry to Pee Wee’s village.

Three-hundred bags a week.

Pee Wee handpicked his laundry crew, paying them per bag and keeping a cut for himself. The soldiers had a soft spot for the little kid with big dreams who reminded them of what they were fighting for.

Tim brought that yellowed photo with him to the reunion. “When I left Vietnam, I always wondered what happened to Pee Wee,” Tim said, the years of regret heavy in his voice. “I’ve thought about that kid a lot over the years.”

The picture of Pee Wee was passed around to the other veterans, who each admitted their own nagging guilt about leaving Pee Wee behind. When their tour of duty was over, the Americans were happy to leave Vietnam alive.

But what happened to Pee Wee?

Then, there was movement at the door. I felt the floor shift, and the air in the room changed. Others in the hall felt it too and looked up. A new guest had arrived.

He was carefully dressed and entered the room like he had a right to be there. There was something familiar about his wide smile and determined look.

Who was this guy?

Beside me, Tim stood up, and his chair fell over. He stared at the person in the doorway, making a noise that sounded more like a wounded animal than a grown man. He stumbled across the room followed by other veterans all wearing matching faces of disbelief.

“Is it you?” Tim asked, his words soft and full of hope.

“It is me,” answered the man, throwing out his arms. “Your lost friend Pee Wee!”

War reunions are full of stories, but Pee Wee’s was particularly miraculous. While stopping for gas right off of the interstate, he spotted a man filling up who was wearing a Second Battalion, 94th Artillery hat. Pee Wee got back in his car and followed the veteran as he drove off, hoping for a chance to reconnect with the men who inspired him all those years ago.

Pee Wee shared with our group his story of harsh imprisonment following the war. Instead of growing bitter in the midst of hardship, Pee Wee became driven. He dreamed of coming to America and becoming a US citizen, and after his imprisonment, that’s what he did. He worked hard, married a good woman, and raised four college-educated children. Pee Wee was living the American Dream … exactly what those soldiers had been fighting for.

There were no dry eyes in the room as those old war buddies wrapped their arms around a little guy named Pee Wee and wept like he was their long-lost child finally home from the war. Those watching clapped and cried as the old buddies proudly posed for photos, Pee Wee standing amidst them, holding the American flag.

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This article was originally published in the March/April 2025 issue of Missouri Life.