730 and a Wakey

Awatched pot never boils? Naturally it does - it's just that the watching makes the wait seem endless. So it is for Frank and many others, who wait, watch, and tediously count off the 730 seemingly everlasting days that constitute the term of National Service. For Frank, at least, his earlier, naive enthusiasm for, and ready involvement in the calling has all but disappeared, to be replaced by nagging self-doubts. What had felt, sounded and seemed so unquestionably right at the start of 1967, was soon tainted by resentment, helplessness, insecurity, homesickness, and a loss of confidence about why he was there and what he was doing in Vietnam by mid-1968. Inside the enclosed boundaries of 1ALSG and Vung Tau, the world has shrunk rather than widened, and life has become a succession of attempts to find diversions to fill the interminable hours of boredom that would provide some relief from the repetitive and mind-numbing tasks of a soldier in a war zone, but not really at war with anyone but his own demons and uncertainties. Why do governments always send children who can't be expected to know any better, to fight their political battles?