I scooted up to my computer desk that April afternoon in 2016 and logged on to Ancestry.com. At 66 years old and retired from my job as an engineer, I figured I could use another hobby besides golf. The previous year, I\u2019d mentioned to my wife, Debbie, that I was curious about my family tree. She\u2019d hopped on that idea (apparently I\u2019m hard to buy for) and given me a DNA kit for Christmas.<\/p>\n
I\u2019d sent in a small vial of saliva. The initial results showed I had British and Nordic ancestry. I wasn\u2019t surprised. Dad\u2019s heritage was Scandinavian, and Mom\u2019s was mostly British. Now I had new e-mails, automatically generated, showing who else on Ancestry .com might be related to me. I scrolled through the results.<\/p>\n
Most of the people listed were distant relatives\u2014cousins I\u2019d never met who\u2019d also submitted DNA samples. But one message knocked the breath out of me. We have found a very high probability of a father-son relationship between you and Son Vo.<\/em><\/p>\n I stared at the monitor and reminded myself to breathe. A name like that could mean only one thing: Vietnam. A time in my life I\u2019d spent the past 46 years trying to forget.<\/p>\n I\u2019d done well enough in high school to earn a scholarship to North Dakota State in the fall of 1967. But I wasn\u2019t mature enough to handle the freedom of being away from home for the first time. I partied too much, studied too little and blew my scholarship. My hardworking parents couldn\u2019t afford to pay for my education.<\/p>\n The draft was in full swing. I thought about signing up. Dad had been a Marine, and I had three uncles who\u2019d served in World War II. A cousin of mine had been killed in Vietnam earlier that year. I could enlist in the Army, then go back to college on the G.I. Bill. If I volunteered to serve in Vietnam, the Army would knock five months off the tour. So in January of 1969, I went to basic training at Fort Lewis, Washington.<\/p>\n I wanted to be on the front lines and thought I\u2019d signed up to be a medic. Somehow I marked the wrong box and ended up as a preventive medicine specialist. I did my advanced training in San Antonio. We flew out to Vietnam in July 1969, the day after Neil Armstrong took his first steps on the moon. My first six months in country, I was assigned to Bien Hoa Air Base. Conditions were usually primitive on the Saigon-area firebases, where the Army set up artillery in the jungle to support infantry patrols. During the rainy season, we tried to make it better for our troops by flying missions to spray the bases for flies, mosquitoes and other disease-carrying insects. I became known as the mosquito man, examining bloodsucking pests in the lab and determining whether they carried malaria. I was proud of the work we did.<\/p>\n Then I was transferred to Long Binh, the main Army post, some 20 miles outside Saigon. My assignment was on the night shift, inspecting retrograde cargo going back to the U.S. I hated it. I felt dead tired all the time, and it was stressful dealing with other soldiers who were dead tired.<\/p>\n News from the States filtered to us troops. We heard about demonstrations and rioting, how so many Americans objected to the war. We soldiers began to feel that people back home didn\u2019t support us or appreciate how we were putting our lives on the line for our country. In my case, depression took hold.<\/p>\n My only escape was Saigon. Sometimes I was lucky enough to make a delivery there. The city was alive. I had every third or fourth weekend off, and my buddies and I would go to our favorite haunts. We blew off steam, drinking, partying, doing our best to try to forget the war.<\/p>\n Thirteen months later, I was back in North Dakota. There was no hero\u2019s welcome at the airport or anywhere else. Dad gave me back my old job as a laborer and truck driver for his house-moving company. After a month, I moved out of my parents\u2019 house so I could be alone. A few months later, I moved away from my hometown altogether. I just didn\u2019t fit in anymore. Being around people made me jumpy. I had panic attacks. Was I losing it?<\/p>\n I\u2019d joined the Army as a confident young man. Watching peace rallies and protesters on the nightly news, I lost my self-assurance, my conviction that I\u2019d done the right thing by enlisting. I\u2019d given up almost two years and risked my life only to discover that the general public thought this was a war we shouldn\u2019t be fighting. My parents and family were proud, but I had a sense that they too wondered if the war was worth the price.<\/p>\n My brother tried to get me to start a band with him. We both sang and played a couple of instruments, a talent that came from our dad, who could play anything with strings. We\u2019d had a band in high school. Now I was too nervous to even get onstage.<\/p>\n Hoping a change of scenery would help, I moved to Kansas to work in the oil fields. I met a woman and we married. I returned to North Dakota State to get a degree in engineering, then landed a job in Alabama, where we settled down. We had four wonderful children, but things fell apart. We divorced after 13 years.<\/p>\n My depression deepened. Suicidal thoughts scared me into seeking help. I was diagnosed with PTSD<\/a> and got treatment. Slowly I began to feel like myself again. Then, in 1988, I met Debbie. Like me, she was divorced and had children. We fell in love and married. These 28 years I\u2019d had with her and our blended family\u2014my four kids and her two sons\u2014had been the best. I had put Vietnam behind me: a dark, wasted time in my life.<\/p>\n Now a simple DNA test showed I\u2019d left not only memories behind me but a son. I stood up from my computer desk and paced, trying to picture the streets of Saigon, the people I\u2019d met. I\u2019d been only 20 back then and single. So young. So naive. I\u2019d had a few brief relationships. But there was no one whose name or face I could remember.<\/p>\n I found Debbie in the kitchen. \u201cYou need to see this e-mail I got from the ancestry site.\u201d<\/p>\n I sat at my computer desk again, Debbie peering over my shoulder.<\/p>\n \u201cHow do you feel about it, Bob?\u201d she whispered.<\/p>\n I was an engineer. I trusted science. \u201cDNA doesn\u2019t lie.\u201d<\/p>\n We looked up the name Son Vo <\/em>on Facebook. There were several. A 45-year-old professional musician in California caught my eye. Is that him? <\/em>I stared at the profile photo of a dark-haired man on stage with a guitar. I checked the birthday listed on his page. He was born in 1971, five months after I\u2019d come home. It was entirely possible he was my son. But how did he end up in the U.S.?<\/p>\n My mind swirled with questions. Should I contact him?<\/a> He would have gotten the same automatically generated e-mail that I did about a father\/son connection. Had he looked me up on Facebook too? Did he want to meet? To have a relationship? Was he angry? Would he understand about the circumstances, that I didn\u2019t even know I\u2019d gotten someone pregnant?<\/em><\/p>\n Debbie and I talked about it. We decided to let Son Vo make the first move. If he wanted a relationship, he could e-mail me through Ancestry.com.<\/p>\n A few weeks went by. I heard nothing. But there wasn\u2019t a day that passed that I didn\u2019t wonder about the son I never knew.<\/p>\n Then in May, I got an e-mail. Son wrote that he was surprised \u201cabout our DNA match and my high likelihood of being your child (son) from Vietnam\u2026I just want to say hello and welcome you to contact me anytime you please. Or not. I\u2019m not looking for anything. I do think it would be very interesting to communicate.\u201d<\/p>\n I responded immediately, my fingers flying across the keyboard. \u201cI wasn\u2019t sure you\u2019d want to hear from me. I am just as surprised as you are but eager to find out more about you.\u201d I told him a little bit about myself and what I\u2019d done in the years since Vietnam, then signed off: \u201cI truly hope that you\u2019ve had a good life.\u201d<\/p>\n We e-mailed back and forth. Son told me his mother had married an American in 1973 and they\u2019d emigrated from Vietnam when he was four\u2014just two weeks before the fall of Saigon. Three years later, his mom had died of a brain tumor. Son went into the foster care system. He said he\u2019d yearned to find me his whole life but didn\u2019t have enough information. About a year before, he\u2019d finally given up the search. His wife, Julie, had bought him the DNA kit. He never dreamed he\u2019d actually stumble upon me.<\/p>\n After a couple weeks of e-mailing, I suggested a phone call. We both were extremely nervous, so there were a lot of awkward silences. Then Son mentioned that he played the bass. I told him that I used to play the bass too and that my dad had always wanted to be a country singer. From there, the conversation flowed.<\/p>\n I invited Son and his wife to come to Huntsville for Fourth of July weekend. That Friday, July 1, 2016, Debbie and I sat in the car, waiting in the arrivals lane at the airport for Son and Julie. What if we don\u2019t hit it off in person? <\/em>I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants.<\/p>\n I recognized Son right away from his photos on Facebook and from the guitar slung across his back. The moment I saw him, I was flooded with joy.<\/p>\n I got out of the car. Though I\u2019m normally a pretty reserved guy, I opened my arms wide, and we hugged right there on the sidewalk.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m so sorry I wasn\u2019t there for you when you were growing up,\u201d I said. \u201cI missed out on having a son, and you missed out on having a dad.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI understand,\u201d Son said, looking me right in the eye. \u201cThere wasn\u2019t anything you could have done about it.\u201d<\/p>\n I took Son to meet his half-siblings\u2014Mandy, James, Audrey and Justin\u2014and their families. With his easygoing nature and great sense of humor, Son hit it off with everyone.<\/p>\n \u201cOh my goodness, your noses look like they\u2019ve been cloned,\u201d Audrey exclaimed, looking at Son and me.<\/p>\n \u201cAnd you both have the same cadence to your speech,\u201d Mandy said.<\/p>\n A little later, Son pulled out his guitar for an impromptu jam session. I marveled at his confidence and talent. I\u2019d always wished that my kids shared my love of music. I was so glad that here I had one who did. We even sang harmonies together, and Son said he could hear his own voice in mine.<\/p>\n All these years, I\u2019d thought of my service in Vietnam as a dark period, a negative experience. But sitting next to my newfound son and hearing my voice join with his, I was finally able to lay those feelings to rest. Something good had <\/em>come out of my time in Vietnam, something amazing.<\/p>\n