My father loves and cares for us like a farmer loves and cares for his crops. He got me my favourite bike because I enjoy riding it, yet he gets irritated when he sees me driving recklessly on highways with risky traffic. My father bestowed onto me the greatest gift somebody could bestow upon another person: his faith in me. He instructs me to behave nicely, talk politely with elders and friends, help those in need, and never say anything negative about anyone because he wants me to grow wise in the future. My father is my dearest buddy, and I am so grateful for him he is God’s greatest gift to me. He sings a lovely tune to me every night before I go to sleep. He also encourages me to learn new things every day. He assists me with my homework, teaches me life lessons such as how to treat others with respect, and takes me to swimming and karate classes. On weekends, we spend hours playing games together. He inspires me to do things I may be afraid of, in an attempt to get over my fear and to emerge victorious. He is always there to support me at my school tournaments. He puts in a lot of effort to provide for our family. My father is my role model because of his commitment to his career. He is also extremely well-organized and keeps everything in order. When dad finds either my sister or me doing nothing and just idling our time during the holidays, he assigns us some chore or another. But, at our core, we enjoy teasing and playing with one another. In fact, there are occasions when we simply argue over who gets to watch television. My father enjoys watching classic movies whenever he has free time. He is a dedicated and industrious individual. In reality, I’ve never regretted following his advice because it has always shown to be effective. All of my significant life decisions have been guided by my father. He’s the first person I think of when I’m under any difficulties. In my life, my father is a hero, guide and someone I can always look up to. FitzGerald was simply, maddeningly, omitted from the memoirs of the novelist Ward Just, her wartime lover. Leroy also attempted to write her story, but gave up in anger. Webb wrote about her experience in captivity, she never published a longer memoir about her life. Going public with those experiences at the time would have brought them ridicule and denial. I found private notes these women wrote to themselves about the sting of slights, the unwanted advances, the compromises they made. These three women paid their own way to war, arrived with no jobs, no role models and no safety net. In the mid-1960s, newsrooms largely confined female reporters to the women’s-news section. Webb Frances FitzGerald, an American journalist and the author of “Fire in the Lake,” a seminal book on the war and Catherine Leroy, a French photographer. Male journalists who wrote memoirs about their time during the war either left out the women or belittled their accomplishments, no matter how many awards the women had won.Īs I set about reporting a book about the accomplishments of the women who preceded me in Vietnam, I focused on Ms. Hers is not the only one.įor self-protection as well as the cultural conditions of the era, the women of the Vietnam War did not tell their stories. Although filmmakers in Hollywood promised to tell her story, in the United States today her name barely registers with anyone I talk to. An Agence France-Press prize for journalists working in “perilous or difficult conditions” in Asia was named in her honor. When she came out alive, her story was front-page news. She was captured by the North Vietnamese in Cambodia in 1971 and held for 23 days. Webb rose to become bureau chief for United Press International in the war zone, covering more battles than most of her male colleagues. Kate Webb, a revered combat reporter, taught me how to measure a bomb crater with my feet when we covered the carpet bombing of Cambodia. I arrived late in January 1973 and profited from the opening they made, and the example they set, by focusing on the humane questions of war. I know because I was there learning from them. The war’s most famous chroniclers - David Halberstam, Neil Sheehan and Malcolm Browne - were young men, all.īut women journalists were there, too, reporting the war and risking their lives to bring back the story. Continue reading the main storVietnam, the 10-year American fiasco that foreshadowed the disastrous forever wars of today, was written into history as it happened.
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