Biography

Brad Kennedy shipped over to Vietnam with the 11th (US) Armored Cavalry Regiment in August 1966. There, he ‘rode with the Blackhorse’ all over War Zones C and D as an artillery surveyor, a machine gunner, a track commander, and, for the last several months of his tour of duty, a forward observer. He was released from active duty upon his return by air to San Francisco on July 28, 1967, eight days shy of two full years from his induction.

Vietnam has been in his head and heart ever since. At the beginning of 1968 and for the next several years, Kennedy spoke in public about his war experiences as a member of Vietnam Veterans Against the War, including on local radio and television.

In April 1968 he was asked by the Robert F. Kennedy presidential campaign to form a national organization of Vietnam veterans to give political cover to the candidate in case he was red-baited for his anti-war stance. In August of that year, after the candidate’s assassination and amid hippie hair and love beads, the author in suit and tie lobbied delegates and political bosses in the Hilton during the Democratic National Convention, along with dozens of other Vietnam Veterans for McCarthy. There he witnessed firsthand the clubbing and gassing of demonstrators and innocent bystanders in the street.

“It is true the police rioted, but it is also true they endured tremendous provocation before they did so,” Kennedy says. “The Illinois National Guard showed tremendous discipline in standing its ground and performing its duty.”

Although limiting his participation in protests and demonstrations after he married, Kennedy did manage to find himself on his first wedding anniversary—Christmas Eve 1971—sleeping on a slab of ice at Valley Forge, Pa. to protest the war. “Fortunately, when I made it home,” he recalls, “my reception was less chilly.”

In the early 1970’s Kennedy worked briefly on one of President Lyndon Johnson’s Great Society programs—the Law Enforcement Assistance Administration (LEAA)—before embarking in 1973 on what is now a 33-year career as a builder. Burning the midnight oil for decades, he produced Betrayal: Will Stone in Vietnam, the culmination of a soldier’s experiences and an older man’s seasoned wisdom as he reflects on an era whose themes are extant today.

The novel uses realistic portrayal of gripping experiences to lay bare the souls of its principal characters. Like most serious writers of his day, Kennedy eschews the superhero treatment of those who fought and died in Vietnam. Often affecting, at times amusing, and in the end hair-raising, Betrayal always entertains. It constitutes a devastating critique of the national psychology that indulges military adventurism, and shows that people can lower themselves only so far before they permanently alter their character.

“I am a firm believer that just as nonfiction can convey truth, so can fiction,” Kennedy says. “How much in either case is determined by the intent of the writer as well as by his skill.”

Recurrent in his writing—both in novels and essays—are an acknowledgment of the complexity of issues and the human motivations that drive them, and the need to deal with that complexity with open-mindedness and resolve.

Today Kennedy, who holds a bachelor’s degree in history from Lafayette College, is a guest lecturer addressing college students on the realities of the Vietnam War and an Iraq War panelist for Gannett Newspapers, a body which has met regularly since before the March 2003 invasion to analyze and comment upon important developments in Iraq and at home.

His essay Seeing John Kerry In My Mirror, bridging the era of his youth and today, was published in Intervention Magazine in September 2004 during the Kerry/Bush presidential campaign.

Kennedy lives with Barbara, his wife of 36 years, in New Jersey, where they raised their son and foster children. He and his wife enjoy the company of their two granddaughters.

Currently, Kennedy is scheming out a fictional work that will encompass today’s political and economic landscape the way Betrayal does that of the Vietnam era. “I’ll keep writing about war,” he says, “as long as the obituary writers do.”