SHELL ROCK - He wasn't eager to go. But in 1969 as a healthy, 18-year-old American male, Ed Wubbena reasoned a tour in Vietnam was inevitable. He signed on with the Army, reasoning the sooner he put in his time, the sooner he could get back home, marry his girl and build a life.

It was a difficult 12 months, recalls Carla Wubbena, Ed's wife of 39 years. She waited for letters, saving and savoring every one.

"It was hard for him over there. It was a hard time for me back here because you don't know," she said. "You don't know if they're going to come back."

This month, the Wubbenas and their son, Chris, will visit Vietnam. Ed, who says he struggles with post-traumatic stress disorder, approaches the adventure with mixed feelings.

"I'm hoping we can get some closure, that I can get some closure to it."

Wubbena, 59, wants to reconcile his past, create good memories and inspire other veterans to face their demons. He has been encouraged by a friendship with Nga Nguyen, 20, a foreign exchange student from north Vietnam he met at Wartburg College.

Wubbena wants to see the country in a new light and build new relationships.

What he saw and felt as a young soldier fuels vivid nightmares and intrusive flashbacks. Vietnam, he adds, accompanies him every day.

He is excited and nervous and isn't sure what issues might arise.

"I keep thinking this can't hurt anyone anymore."

Forgetting, he learned, just doesn't work, at least not for him. The 364 days he spent in Vietnam proved a defining year in his life.

Targets

Wubbena shipped out Feb. 7, 1969, assigned to an artillery airlift unit with the 1st Infantry Division, dubbed the Big Red One. He spent weeks at a time in the jungle. He would be dropped at a location and help send smoke signals to guide U.S. helicopters delivering artillery. In that job, he says he felt vulnerable. Later, he served as an assistant gunner.

"Usually once we got hit, we'd move out."

He felt like a constant target and had too many close calls to count. Perhaps once a month, he would return to base camp and attempt to decompress.

But base camp wasn't entirely secure either.

"There were no safe places in Vietnam," he said.

Even during war, though, lighter moments developed. Wubbena recalls a monkey fond of eating cigarettes, and a story about getting his hand stuck in a howitzer has been retold many times.

But darker memories persist: living in a state of constant stress, constantly exposed to death and the fear of it, the sight of bodies along a road after a firing campaign.

"It was a mess on both sides," Wubbena said.

Coming home produced hurt as well. Carla Wubbena remembers some veterans returned to a country that cared little for the United State's involvement in Vietnam and understood it even less. Military personnel served as targets for this angst and were subjected to taunts.

For years, Wubbena refused to talk about his experiences. Not with Carla. Not with anybody.

About six years ago, Terrence Lindell, a history professor at Wartburg College, asked Wubbena if he would talk about the war with his students. Wubbena agreed "just to get him off my back" but is now a regular guest speaker. He also shares his story with high school students, veterans and community groups.

Carla and Ed Wubbena work in Wartburg's maintenance department. Because Wubbena is a familiar figure on campus, Lindell says he humanizes a time in history that younger generations know little about.

"The Vietnam War was, in many respects, a traumatic experience for Americans on a whole variety of levels," Lindell added. "I think it's important that we understand that, how the Vietnam conflict helped shape us."

Unfortunately, what knowledge students do have about the conflict in Southeast Asia often comes from Hollywood, which tends to universally depict veterans of the war as "damaged individuals who never really adjusted," Lindell said.

Wubbena, Lindell believes, is an example of how veterans - though at times adversely affected by the war - picked up their lives and moved on.

Changed man

When Wubbena prepared to give that first speech, he asked his son, Chris, to help organize his thoughts. It was the first time Wubbena opened up about his war experiences.

Chris marvels at the transformation since then. He has always known is father to be, above all else, honest, and a man who tells you what he thinks but is always polite. According to his son, Wubbena maintains a strong work ethic and tries to find happiness in all situations. He counts each birthday as a bonus.

Some days, though, memories of the war seemed to loom like a dark cloud over his father, Chris said.

"We knew that he went to Vietnam and we knew that he had his hard days. Things don't work out some days because of it," Chris said.

Chris Wubbena previously taught at the University of Northern Iowa and now is an assistant art professor at Southeast Missouri State University. He wanted to help his father and other veterans and their children, and it was Chris who first asked whether his father would like to return to Vietnam.

Ed surprised his son by agreeing.

Chris is planning a collaborative, multimedia art project, titled 'Speaking while Listening,' about his father's journey. A show is already scheduled at a gallery in Missouri.

Fueling Chris' enthusiasm for the project is the realization art has already become a source of common ground for the Wubbenas and their host family in Vietnam. The Wubbenas will stay with Nguyen's relatives. Beyond that, Nguyen's uncle is an artist and her grandfather once served as president of the Vietnam Fine Arts Association.

The war created the reason for Ed's trip and Chris' art project, but the conflict isn't intended to be the focus. He hopes through sculpture, etchings and audio and video recordings to portray Vietnam as a country, not a battlefield.

For Ed Wubbena, returning to Vietnam represents something like the last piece of a puzzle slowly coming together, Chris said.

"He's kind of been opening up a little bit at a time but this is kind of … the final door."