Are you THAT Liz?

by Liz Creech


This is Terry. At the risk of sounding strange, I'd like to know if this is the same Liz Creech that wrote to me while I was in Vietnam. I was a friend of Ralph Vitchs' and am trying to locate his mom if she is still alive. Please call me collect if you are that Liz."

My God, I said to myself as my heart pounded and my excitement rose. I can't believe it! It sent me back into a flood of bitter-sweet memories of those days.

The memories start with the glue that stuck us all together. The glue was a big, jolly, wonderful character named Ralph. We had been high school buddies. We double dated and cried on each other's shoulders about our latest love loss. He came by the house before he left. They had just put up one of those giant slides in town. When I come back, I promise we'll ride on that slide all day. I told him I would definitely hold him to that promise.

Well, Ralph went off to war. In my first letter I had complained of boredom. He let me have it! You don't realize how good you have it. America is the greatest He lightened up and promised to buy that damn slide when he came home. I felt so stupid for complaining.

Ralph was very soft hearted for all his crude joking and acting like nothing bothered him. He asked me to write a medic buddy of his, then a guy who doesn't get much mail. Next, it was one who was feeling down because he was fighting with his wife. I dutifully wrote each one as he asked. I was blessed with letters from such interesting fellows as "Boxie, & Razor Blade, and others. Ralph would say what a nice guy this one was or how good looking that one was, etc. Ralph mentioned such simple pleasures like cotton candy at the fair or the arrival of the Easter Bunny. He also praised an everyday commodity we hardly gave a thought to Happiness is Dry Crap paper!

Ralph called me Lizzie Poo and signed Ralphie and also promised we'd celebrate our 21st birthday together. He told me of how some pals made the worst birthday of my life a little better. The guys got all the pound cake and C-rations together and I had a little birthday party with pound cake and peaches. We are all like brothers over here. The little gesture from his buddies meant so much to him. He ended his letter with God is alive! In the meantime guys were writing me about their life over there; their fears, loneliness and home sickness. Ralph had me sending pictures to cheer them up and collecting stuff to send them batteries for a radio, toilet paper, food etc. From that distance he was still advising me about how to cope with my everyday problems, like boys and reassuring me how great I was. We were a lot alike really; sensitive, caring and tempermental.

Some of the letters talked about how scared he was. He was trying to get transferred out of the field. He shared how it felt to be wet, dirty, eating C-rations and having no rest.

Doing night runs are the worst. Ralph was depressed. I tried to cheer him up but he was dealing with more than I would ever be able to understand or fix. They ALL were. During his depression he made sure to tell me not to tell his family about how down he was. He told me not to tell them about losing people. Each loss hit him hard though. He would still always try to end on a positive note like, Your knight in armor loves you dearly.

Ralph lamented about watching his buddies killed, killing and coming close to death himself. Why do people riot, war and hate each other' I wish it were different. He also mentioned he had accepted Christ and that seemed to help him through. One of his wishes regarded wanting an old girlfriend to forgive him. He felt so bad about mistakes he had made and dumb things he had done. I wondered how many guys there played out those harsh words or jealous outbursts or whatever, over and over while out in the field. He kept encouraging me to write some of the single guys so that I might have a new fella when they got home. [Was he taking care of me or them?] He was always taking care of somebody! Remember how aggressive I used to be with girls? Well, after a year of hating, killing, seeing buddies get killed and eating C-rations, I'll be so shy I won't know how to act anymore! I guess I'll have to turn to you for help.

On May 22, 1969, he wrote me he that had received the box I sent. I had loaded it with all I could think of that he had asked for including a little plastic camera. The camera was to replace one of my new found friend's his camera had stopped a bullet. They appreciated the humor. He also stated he was back in the field with his buddies and questioned who will help us when we need help? As was typical of him he ended joking about some girl's panties he had lost over there and boy, did he miss them! This was the last letter I was to receive from Ralph. It had a tender P.S. on the back that I will always cherish How come you and I never thought of being in love? Strange how when you lose someone, you realize how very much you did love them and how much you will miss them.

Ralph's family and I got many letters of condolences from the guys. We sat around reading each others letters as a way; I think, of still feeling connected to Ralph. Comments from Terry like It's a hard way to grow up and suddenly 22 seems very old were making us realize how difficult it was on those who remained also. The guys tried to console us; they promised to keep writing and to come visit when the war was over. Terry told me of one of my pen pals being shot. It's not enough to kill him but he will get to go home. He also picked up where Ralph left off in asking me to keep writing the guys. He also asked that I keep up my visits to Ralph's mom because she would really need me now.

I was devastated by Ralph's death. At 20 years old it seemed life was so unfair to give me and others such a kick in the butt! I went to the beach for the weekend, got drunk on slow gin [lousy way to go] and cried for three days. Several of my friends came out to be with me and to share Ralph stories. They were always goofy and funny tales about a clown we all loved and sometimes wanted to strangle because he could be so irritating. He often teased us unmercifully. We would never get to ride that slide!

Reeling back to the present I immediately called Terry back. I was thrilled to actually hear the voice of a pen pal from 25 years ago. Terry, I squealed, this is Liz. I'm so glad you found me. Lucky for me I had gone back to my maiden name after my divorce and had moved back home. Needless to say, we talked a good three hours that day. We still hadn't scratched the surface about all the things that had happened over the last 25 years. He also shared some funny typical Ralph stories from their time together. We are at least back in touch. I guess what I learned are the bonds one makes when they are young , at war and in crisis are ones that never die. I was so blessed to have Ralph in my life and to have the experiences he produced for me by writing those guys so far from home.

This May 25th (1994,) will be 25 years since Ralph was killed. It seemed fitting, especially after being remembered so fondly by his friend, to honor Ralph's memory with an accounting of his impact. We've all grown and matured and gone on. Somehow, though, I don't think anyone who ever met Ralph could have forgotten him quickly or easily. He had that kind of effect on people. The greatest honor we can give him is to remember him. Those of us that knew him could never forget all he gave us. The picture I will always keep in my mind is Ralph smiling real big while he held a puppy they had in their camp.

That was Ralph ALWAYS looking after the lost.

Liz

Ralph and his puppy

Ralph Vitch

and his friend.