Doug Miller Reflects on Vietnam R&R, Love, War and the Sad News from Kent State
ASHLAND COUNTY — In this day in history, Vietnam veteran Doug Miller again shares a deeply personal memory from his tour of duty in Vietnam, one that began with anticipation, love and a long-awaited reunion, but also carried the emotional weight of war, separation and tragedy back home in Ohio.
During a tour of duty in Vietnam, Miller said every service member was given a one-week rest and recuperation period, commonly known as R&R. There were several destinations to choose from, including Bangkok, Hong Kong, Taipei, Tokyo, Sydney and Hawaii.
For Miller, the choice was simple.
He had married his wife in June of 1969, shortly before leaving for Vietnam. After spending nine months in-country, there was no doubt where he wanted to go.
Honolulu.
Miller flew out of Da Nang on Friday, May 1, 1970, aboard an aircraft filled with servicemen from all branches of the military. After arriving in Honolulu, the group was taken by bus to the R&R center at Fort DeRussy, located near Waikiki Beach.
There, the men were given identification cards and told their wives and dependents would be waiting for them.
For Miller, the anticipation grew with every passing moment.
“I have to say that the anticipation of seeing her for the first time in nine months was mounting as we got closer to the center,” Miller recalled.
As the servicemen exited the bus, someone shouted that they had 144 hours before they would have to return to Vietnam.
For Miller, the clock was already ticking.
Inside the lobby, he found his wife waiting for him. After what he jokingly described as a few minutes of “reintroducing ourselves again,” the couple went to rent a car, only to quickly learn they were not old enough.
Both were 20 years old.
Miller said it struck him as odd. He was old enough to serve in a war zone, but not old enough to rent a vehicle for a few days in Hawaii.
So, as many soldiers learned to do, they improvised, adapted and overcame.
They took a taxi.
The couple had reservations at the Hilton Hawaiian Beach Resort on Waikiki Beach. Miller remembers it as a great location, though he admits he does not remember much about the hotel itself.
“Looking back, I don’t think we left our room for the first two days,” Miller said with humor. “Sorry, something about catching up for lost time.”
But even in paradise, Vietnam was not far from him.
Miller said it felt strange to change out of his military khaki uniform and put on civilian clothes for the first time in quite a while. Since the Ala Moana International Shopping Mall was nearby, he and his wife decided to walk there.
On the way back, he experienced a moment that showed just how deeply combat had affected him.
A construction worker suddenly started a jackhammer to break up the roadway. Without thinking, Miller dropped to the ground, seeking cover from what his instincts told him was machine gun fire.
Those instincts may have kept him alive in the jungle.
On a street in Honolulu, they created a moment of embarrassment and heartbreak.
“I looked up at my wife, and I remembered the look on her face,” Miller said. “I tried to explain what had occurred, but I just couldn’t find the right words.”
The couple returned to the hotel, and Miller said he does not believe they left again until it was time for him to go back.
Then, on May 4, 1970, while watching the news from their hotel room, Miller saw reports coming out of Kent State University in Ohio.
Kent was only about 60 miles from his hometown of New Philadelphia. Miller had been there before, and many of his high school friends had gone to college there.
At the time, protests against the Vietnam War were taking place across the country. Miller said he had mixed emotions about the protests back home. But when news came that college students protesting the war had been shot, he was left with a heavy sadness.
“That’s not what we should be doing,” Miller said.
For a young soldier on R&R from Vietnam, the news hit close to home, both geographically and emotionally.
On May 7, 1970, Miller and his wife said their goodbyes. They kissed, not knowing what the next three months would bring.
The flight back to Vietnam, Miller said, was nothing like the flight to Hawaii.
There was no excitement. No anticipation. Only the return to war.
Fortunately, Miller said, in the end, things worked out for them.
But his memory of those 144 hours remains a powerful reminder of the emotional toll carried by those who served, the joy of reunion, the pain of separation, the instincts that followed them home, and the sadness of watching a divided nation struggle with the war from thousands of miles away.
