Jack Randall was born November 9th, 1948 at 7:00am to Mollie and Eddie Randall. Mollie and Eddie worked hard to renovate the barn behind Mollie’s parent’s house. They dug a trench from the well to the barn, ran a drain line to a septic tank and drain-field, built a raised plank floor over the barn’s original dirt floor, built a staircase to the loft replacing the ladder, and as time and money permitted, put in a bathroom, kitchen and bedroom on the main floor and a nursery in the loft. They heated the barn with a woodstove as best they could but the old barn was drafty and winters were cold no matter how much wood they burned. Darrell made them some furniture and Mollie’s father framed in the rooms.
Eddie became an accountant for the mill and Mollie continued to work part-time as a maternity nurse. Their combined income was sufficient to take care of their basic needs but they had very little extra at the end of the month. They budgeted carefully and tried to put a little away each month for a camping vacation and emergency needs. But Eddie was in constant pain. Every time he moved his shoulder, he felt a sharp pain in the joint.
Jack went to Hellgate High and graduated in 1966 just as the new Sentinel High School was completed and the Vietnam war was raging. Jack had worked every summer in the mill and planned to continue working in the mill just as his father and grandfather had done. In August of 1966, he received his draft notice and like his father and grandfather before him, he joined the Army. He didn’t understand the dynamics that had led America into the war, but he believed in America and was proud to defend America’s freedoms, even if doing so was in a far-away land. Jack considered himself a patriot and though he heard about hippie draft dodgers and the protests, he was convinced the protests were inspired and funded by communists who were bent on destroying America from within. He detested them. They were traitors but he was going to Vietnam to fight for freedom. He believed in the domino theory, that if Vietnam fell to the communists, then so would Laos, Cambodia, Thailand, Indonesia, Malaya, and eventually the world. The right thing to do was to make a stand in Vietnam to stop the spread of communism and the enslavement of the human race. He was proud to serve his country.
Jack returned home in 1968. The war in Vietnam had taken its toll. He was no longer the happy-go-lucky boy he had once been. He helped his father with chores, but otherwise stayed in his room. He was sullen and angry. The only times he went out of town was to buy pot. He smoked pot regularly while he was in Nam and constantly once he returned home. He was high all of the time. When he ran out of money, he stole money from his parents. He obtained some marijuana seeds and started a grow garden off an old logging road. He consumed most of what he grew, but he also sold some to students at the University of Montana. The money Jack made from selling pot he used to buy beer in the local bars. He invariably would get into a fight and get tossed out or arrested for being drunk and disorderly. The local cops were sympathetic and would put him in a cell for the night to sober up and cool off.
Mollie pleaded with Eddie to intervene. “Eddie, he won’t talk to me. He just gets angry and walks away. I don’t know what to do with him. I can’t stand it any longer. I don’t know what happened over there, but he won’t talk to me about it. Every time I bring up the war, he shuts down and walks away. He’s either high or drunk all of the time. He can’t go on this way. He needs help. You need to help him. You’ve been through this before. You understand what a soldier goes through. I’m sorry, but I simply can’t relate and he won’t talk to me. You have to do something!” Eventually, Eddie had had enough. “Jack, let’s you and me go get a beer.” “What the fuck for?” “Can’t a father buy his son a beer once in a while? Let’s head down to Harold’s Club and grab a cool one.” “Fine.”
As they entered Harold’s Club, Eddie called out, “Hey Maude, bring us a pitcher and two glasses please.” “Cheers, son.” “Whatever.” “Look Jack, you can’t keep on this way. I’ve been to war, I know it is hell, but, Jesus Christ, it’s over for you. You’re home. You’re all in one piece. I won’t say you are lucky, because no one who fights in a war comes home without some wounds. Some are physical and some aren’t. But no one escapes war without scars. What happened over there?” “I don’t want to talk about it.” “Somehow or another you have to come to terms with it.” “Fuck you. I can’t tell you what happened over there. I can’t tell anyone. I should just fuckin’ kill myself. What happened in Nam is just fucked up. If this is all you wanted, was to come down here to try to get me to confess about what the fuck happened in Vietnam then I’m done.” Jack slammed his schooner down on the table, grabbed his jacket and turned to leave.
“Sit down, Jack. You can’t carry the whole world on your shoulders. You’ve got to let some of it go. Look, son, I love you. There is nothing you can tell me that will change that.” “Really, dad? Is that what you think? What if I told you I killed children? Would that change your mind? Who do you think we were fighting over there? We burned whole villages to the ground with women and children in them. Have you seen anyone burn to death dad? Have you ever smelled someone burn to death? Fuck you. Fuck everyone. We weren’t fighting for anyone’s fuckin’ freedom. We were in the middle of a civil war with gooks shooting gooks. We didn’t know who the fucking enemy was. There were eight- year-old boys with guns. This kid, couldn’t have been more than ten, stepped out of his hut with an AK-47. I shot him right in the nose. It was like shooting an overripe pumpkin. His head just exploded off his shoulders. Then his mother stepped through the door and dragged his headless body back into the hut. We dropped Agent Orange and napalm on the whole fucking country. Do you have any idea what that does to people? Jesus-fucking-Christ, you have no idea. No one does. You and gramps got shot. I wish I had been shot. I can’t live with this. I can’t live like this. I can’t sleep. I wake up screaming. You say you love me. But how can you? I don’t deserve to live. The war is fucked up. And it continues. Will Nixon end it? I doubt it. The government lies to us, dad. We will never win this war. The war will go on until Americans are finally fed up with how much it costs them. Meanwhile, the munitions makers and chemical weapons makers are making a fucking fortune. They rule this messed up country. They elect our representatives by buying the elections. There is no freedom here. There is the illusion of freedom and you and every other fucking American buy into that load of shit. Wake the fuck up. You fought the Nazis. I fought for nothing. I killed for nothing. So, how’s that dad? Is that what you wanted to hear? How does that fucking beer taste now? See ya. I’m out of here.” And with that he flipped off everyone in the bar and slammed the door.
“Where’s Jack?”, asked Mollie when Eddie returned home. “I don’t know. Our boy needs some help Mollie. I don’t know how to help him. I got him to talk and now I wish I hadn’t. Maybe it will help some. Maybe not.” “At least you got him to talk a little. That’s a start.” “He really needs a shrink Mollie. He is dealing with some really heavy stuff. Everyone experiences war differently. Others have come back from war feeling like they made a difference; that their sacrifice was worthwhile. That, yeah, they killed some people, but it was either the enemy or themselves, kind of thing. With Jack, he brings home a load of guilt that he struggles with. I tell you, Mollie, I’m afraid for him.” “You think he would hurt himself?” “I don’t know. Maybe.” “I’ll call Dr. Murray tomorrow. Maybe he can refer us to someone.” “Ok. I’ll check with the V.A. There must be other vets dealing with this.”
“Jack, I’ve checked with the VA. They have an inpatient treatment center for vets who are struggling with the same issues as you. Your mom has packed a bag for you. We are headed over there right now.” “Bullshit, you fucking cripple. You can’t make me do shit. If you want me out of the house, fine, I’ll leave. But you can’t lock me up in some institution.” “Jack, I’m not going to fight with you. You can come with me, or you can go with the officers who are waiting outside.” “What? Are they going to arrest me for being a jerk?” “No, I will file charges of theft against you and they will take you to the VA hospital and then I will drop the charges.” “You would do that? You hate me that much?” “I want you to get well. You can’t continue to live like this. You need help. You can go peacefully or you can go with a fight, but either way you are going.” “Then you better get the cops in here, because there is going to be a fucking brawl.” And at that moment, two officers came in the front door and two more came in from the back. They threw Jack to the floor, handcuffed him, pulled him to his feet and begin moving him toward the front door. “I hate you. I hate you both. I’ve killed people better than you. You better not be here when I get out.” He turned and spit at his parents as the cops shoved him out the door.
As soon as the door closed, Mollie burst out crying. “Oh lord, what have we done? Oh my God, what is to become of our son? Eddie, oh Eddie, did we do the right thing?” Eddie was fighting back tears and knew that he had to be strong for Mollie’s sake. “I don’t know Mollie. We did what we thought was right. I suppose we will know in a month or so. The way Jack was drinking, he may not have made it for another month, so we may have just saved his life. I wish I knew for sure that things were going to turn out all right. We’ll just have to wait and see. We can’t see him for a week. Then we can arrange for visits when the staff thinks he is ready. He has a lot of anger that he has to work through. I think he will be ok.” “Does he really hate us, Eddie?” “No. He is just reacting to a horrible situation. Once he gets control of his life, he will be ok. I hope.”
Dissolution 