A Summer Day

Last night I awoke to the sounds of thunder. I was recalling a small part of a summer day a long time ago. As if it was yesterday as I remember it was the height of the war that summer of ‘69. It seems to be bits and pieces of time that have been locked away for forty years. Names and places are not clear to me at this time, so I’ll do my best to remember.

 

The team of 8 recon Marines consisted of young, tough, bronzed warriors with an attitude, a gung ho bunch of Marines from the 1^st Recon Battalion.  Bravo Company, 2^nd Platoon. Team name “call sign” unknown at this time. I can’t recall the team’s name for this mission but the team names that come to mind are Blue Spruce, Cayenne, Panama Hat and Albrook that I worked with from time to time. My team was getting briefed by 1^st Lt. Riley, his name I can recall. 1^st Lt. Brian Riley sticks in my mind because I felt I was responsible for his death and that been playing on my mind all this years. You see as the pointman for this small team of marines. I was responsible for finding and clearing the areas of all the booby traps, mines and all other devices that can wreak havoc on my brothers of my team. As a scout I took my job seriously all the time and on all my missions. It so happened by faith maybe luck, I considered my self to be very lucky in life and at that time in the years of ‘68 and ‘69. But my good friend Lance Corporal Herman Jonse, I’ll call him Jonsey for short. Yes my good friend Jonsey of Bravo Company, at the time had just returned from R&R “rest and recuperation” in Australia where he met Margaret his wife to be. Margaret what can I say about Margaret, but she was a peach, a down to earth woman and I thought Jonsey was the luckiest guy on earth. But at the time I was a dumb kid and I had no plans to go on R&R. As I told my friend I’m saving for a brand new car. And I can recall that car today that I was saving for, it was a green 1969 Chevy with white racing stripes.

 

A new ’69 Chevy Chevelle SS “Super Sport” with a 396 high performance engine with a Holley carburetor, chrome wheels with Goodyear F70-14 polyglass tires and this car had a Delco AM radio.

 

Well to make a story short Jonsey talked me into going to Australia for a week and yes to meet his wife to be. I can recall that time in Australia and meeting Margaret one of the best vacation, I ever had and thanks to Jonsey and Margaret that R&R to Australia April 8^th through April 15^th, 1969 maybe saved my life who knows. Only one week, but your life can end in a week. When I returned to the Battalion on April 16^th I found out that my team had been lost to a mine or some kind of booby trap. And 1^st Lt. Riley had taking the brunt of it all and my replacement at point and our radioman was medivaced and I did not hear from them again. So I felt responsible at the time not protecting my team on that mission, so that 1^st Lt. Brian Riley was the Marine leading this mission on this summer day. He was giving the briefing the night before this mission.  I recall parts of the mission and the high probability of making contact deep in enemy controlled territory.  I recall that this didn’t seem to bother me at that time been that I had been on plenty of patrol about 20 missions in all to date and because of my experience at that time as a scout. This was to be only one more mission to me.

 

As I think back on this now. Why is this one mission constantly on my mind? After forty years, why is this summer day on my mind. I seem to be reliving this day over and over in my mind. Like a movie that comes to mind “Ground Hog Day”. Where Bill Murray is living Ground Hog Day over and over and it seems to never end for him until he can get it right.

 

As I’m writing this down for the first time, it seems to be playing out and starting to come back to me a little clearer. Each time I sit down to write now my time line 1968-1969 is becoming clearer to me. I stumbled across the 1^st Reconnaissance website on June 3^rd, 2008. I was on ebay comparing prices, with inventory on hand in my mall that day and looking for inventory to purchase for my Antique business. I don’t know to this day why I keyed in Recon. I keyed in Recon it seemed to pop into my mind. But I was surprised to see all the items listed under Recon on Ebay that day. I don’t know maybe curiosity at that time. But I switched from Ebay to my search engine and keyed in 1^st Recon Battalion, Yes I keyed in 1^st Recon Battalion that changed everything for me. Up to this point in time I thought I sealed the memories away for good. That click of my mouse and up popped the 1^st Reconnaissance Battalion’s website. Oh my God, I don’t believe it, my old unit in Nam.  At the same time a peaceful feeling came over me like running into an old friend yes like running into a friend. This feeling is hard to describe for me. I can recall that day I arrived at 1^st Recon in Vietnam as a green know it all rookie marine with an attitude and gung ho at the same time. I was going to win the war by myself. I can look back today on this and laugh at myself. What a dumb kid I must have been then. Only moments after arriving that day, reality set in and I learn quickly that I was in hell or some where close. Yes I can recall the day I arrived at 1^st Recon, it was Saturday July 7^th, 1968. As one of their replacements for one of those brave men KIA “killed in action” on Hill 200 a month earlier on June 3^rd, 1968.  I spent the remaining part of June 3^rd, 2008 reading stores on the Battalion website. I realized that what once was sealed away in my mind is now racing through my mind like a wild fire out of control. This would go on for weeks before I started writing it down. Working as a pointman I’ll call it a scout from time to time, as a boy I like to play an old scout, you know like the one out of an old movie of the wide west or some times I played an Indian scout “Native American scout” from the cavalry. You can see my point so time to time I will call it a scout and not a pointman. I’m just a dumb kid playing cowboys and Indians as my mother would say. I also worked as a M79 grenadier on my earlier missions for Bravo Company. Until two weeks shy of going home for good I was hospitalized in Yokahama on July 9^th, 1969 and release from Active Duty on August 19^th, 1969.

 

I can recall that time in August of ‘69 when I return home and encounter the Anti-War demonstrator for the first time. My opinion at the time was that many Americans thought the war in Vietnam was wrong and the veterans of the war was baby killers and most Americans hated the veteran at that time in my opinion. I can recall the words Baby Killers for the fighting men and maybe women too. But returning home it played on my mind at that time in ‘69. I never talked about the war at that time I just sealed it away.

 

But I did not intentionally kill innocent civilians or babies and you can take that to the bank. I am proud of serving in the Marine Corps my opinion will not chance. I’m proud to be a recon marine and that you can take to the also. Like most of us who served in Vietnam in my opinion went there with a different attitude. I never questioned whether, morally or politically. We should have been in Vietnam. We were told and I believed that we were helping a county to stave off communism and upholding the ideals of our way of life. As for the year of 1968 I missed that anti-war demonstrator as a member of the armed forces from December 7^th,1967 I didn’t know about it, I didn’t heard about it, an I didn’t know why maybe I why so focus on going to war that I blank out the world around me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I participated in the counter offensive phases five and six plus the Tet 1969 Counter Offensive and the summer and fall campaign.

So four out of the seventeen campaigns that were designated for the war in Vietnam I participated in and each is a story of their own.

 

Vietnam Campaigns:

 

1. Vietnam Advisory                                   03/15/1962 - 03/07/1965

2. Vietnam Defend                                     03/08/1965 - 12/24/1965 3. Vietnam Counter Offensive                    12/25/1965 - 06/30/1966

4. Vietnam Counter Offensive Phase 2      07/01/1966 - 05/31/1967

5. Vietnam Counter Offensive Phase 3      06/01/1967 - 01/29/1968

6. Tel Counter Offensive                            01/30/1968 - 04/01/1968

7. Vietnam Counter Offensive Phase 4      04/02/1968 - 06/30/1968

8. Vietnam Counter Offensive Phase 5      07/01/1968 - 11/01/1968

9. Vietnam Counter Offensive Phase 6      11/02/1968 - 02/22/1969

10. Tet 1969 Counter Offensive                 02/23/1969 - 06/08/1969

11. Vietnam Summer - Fall                         06/09/1969 - 10/31/1969

12. Vietnam Winter - Spring                       11/01/1970 - 06/30/1970

13. Sanctuary Counter Offensive               05/01/1970 - 06/30/1970

14. Vietnam Counter Offensive Phase 7    07/01/1970 - 06/30/1971

15. Consolidation 1                                    07/01/1971 - 11/30/1971

16. Consolidation 2                                    12/01/1971 - 03/29/1972

17. Vietnam Craze Fire                              03/30/1972 - 01/28/1973

 

The military build continued steadily to 267,000 in 1966 and to peak strength of 543,000 US troops in early that summer of 1969 and was then to fall away equally as fast.

 

The Marines of the 1^st and 3^rd divisions were deployed in 1 corps in central Vietnam. This map locates the four military corps areas in South Vietnam. The 1^st Marine Division and the 1^st reconnaissance Battalion operated in Corps 1 at the time I was in Vietnam.

 

Map of the four military corps

 

 

The Marines of the 1^st and 3^rd divisions of the Marine Corps were deployed in the first corps in central Vietnam. Composed together of up to eight marine infantry Regiments, they were heavier in infantry strength and digging in for protracted combat such as at Khe Sanh. With the continuous fighting and regular patrolling in mine infested populated areas they took more casualties than in the noted actions of World War 2.

Provinces of South Vietnam

 

The American ground units, with their enormous firepower, ranged widely in search of the communist forces. During the course of the war, the communist units frequently challenged the large US units, particularly indecency of base areas, but generally tried to pick places and timing of their own choosing. They depended heavily thus on the use of sanctuaries in the forests and over the border in Cambodia and Laos.

The Americans never lost a major battle, but the communists kept the blood flowing such that some of 50,000+ US personnel died during the war and 300,000 US personnel wounded during the war. Out of this the 1^st Marines Division lost 00,000. Out of this 1^st Reconnaissance Battalion lost 244 and out of this 1^st Recon Bravo Company lost 45.

During the war it was in the summer of ‘69 when President Nixon had announced immediate but gradual withdrawal of US troops Now at a Peak of 543,000 and after all the dead to date and 260,000 wounded so far and about the seem time. I was being sent to Yokahama, Japan and then home.

 

Anti Communist Forces

       

South Vietnam        US             South Korea         Australia

 

     

  Philippines      New Zealand      Khmer Republic      Thailand

   

 Kingdom of Laos

   Anti Communist Forces

    Casualties and Losses

 

                                 Dead            Wounded          Missing

South Vietnam        220,357          1,170,000

U.S.                          58,159              305,000           2,000

South Korea               4,407                11,000

Thailand                     1,351             unknown

Philippines                 1,000              unknown

Australia                       520                   2,400            

New Zealand                  37                      187

 

Total-Anti Forces   285,831           1,488,587           2,000

 

 

 

 

Communist Forces

     

 North Vietnam     Viet Cong          P.R. China         Soviet Union

   

   North Korea              Pathel Lao          Khmer Rouge 

 

Communist Forces

 Casualties and Losses

 

 

                                                 Dead/Missing     Wounded

North Vietnam & Viet Cong           1,176,000          600,000             People’s Republic of China                  1,446              4,200

Soviet Union                                    unknown         unknown

 

Total-Communist Forces               1,177,446          604,200

 

 

South Vietnamese Civilian Dead    1,581,000        Unknown

Cambodian Civilian Dead                  700,000        Unknown

Laotian Civilian Dead                           50,000        Unknown

 

Total-Civilian Dead                         2,331,000         Unknown

 

Looking back on this today the number of military and civilian deaths are over 3,794,000 and over 2,092,500 military wounded and 2,000 U.S. military missing to date. Number of civilians wounded and missing in this war cooo total over 2,000,000 in my opppp I will say that this was a vvvv bloody war and I accept the fact today that I wwww home as a vvv lucked marine. But at the time I could not accept the face that I would be going home as a disabled veteran but looking back on this today with the numbers of over 7,000,000 deaths and wounded from this war. Yes I’m vvv lucked to have made it home in one piece and it was clear to me that that time in ‘69 I would not be the last GI to die in Num.

 

• Cost of Wars

Figures are from the Congressional Research Service, courtesy of The Washington Post, 10 Sept 2003":

• American Revolution: $3.2 billion.
• War of 1812: $1 billion.
• Mexican War: $1.8 billion.
• Civil War: $50 billion Union, $21.8 billion Confederacy.
• Spanish-American War: $6.5 billion.
• World War I: $588 billion.
• World War II: $4.8 trillion.
• Korean War: $408 billion.
• Vietnam War: $584 billion.
• Persian Gulf War of 1991: $82 billion. Contributions from U.S. allies ended up covering more than 90 percent of this war's costs.
• Operation Iraqi Freedom: $197 billion, as of March 2006.

 

Cause Of Casualty Hostile & Non-hostile (Percentage):

Gun shot or small arms fire ---- 31.8

Drowning and burns ---------- 3.0

Misadventure (Friendly fire) -- 2.3

Vehicle crashes ------------ 2.0

Multiple frag wounds grenades, mines, bombs, booby traps -- 27.4

Aircraft crashes ---------- 14.7

Illness, also malaria, hepatitis, heart attack, stroke -- 1.6

Arty or rocket fire -------- 8.4

Suicide ---------------- 0.7

Accidental self-destruction, intentional homicide, accidental
homicide, other accidents. -- 5.8

Other, unknown, not reported -- 2.0

 

VIETNAM CASUALTIES BY AGE - ENLISTED

 

ARMY Age 17-19 --   5521 (39.7) 17-21 --   11509 (82.8)

17-24 -- 13028 (93.7) 17-29 -- 13522 (97.3) 30+ -- 376 (2.7)  

USMC Age 17-19-- 5521 (39.7) 17-21-- 11509 (82.8)
17-24--   13028 (93.7) 17-29--   13522 (97.3)30+--   376 (2.7)

 

NAVY Age 17-19--   219 (11.3%) 17-21-- 981 (50.8%)
17-24--  1477 (76.5%) 17-29--  1676 (86.8%) 30+-- 253 (13.2%)

 

        AIR FORCE Age 17-19-- 34 (3.7%) 17-21 -- 211 (23.2%)
        17-24 --   375 (41.3%) 17-29 --   498 (55.0%) 30+ --   408 (45.0%)

 

 

 

 

 

( ) = Percentage, direct combat related casualties

 

 

 

Vietnam Casualties by Age - Officer

 

 

 

 

 

 

DEATHS PER 100,000 POPULATION
(based on 1970 US Population)

 

 

Statistical Abstract of 1970

 

Protestants were representative from all areas of the country but slightly less so from outside the South where they were more likely to be college candidates. Officers of all services, by tradition largely Protestant, remained so in V'nam sustaining casualties on about a 5 to 2 ratio.

Protestants in the 10's of millions are no longer members or have simply always considered themselves as vaguely Protestant. This is quite specifically apparent in the Protestant denominational breakout from the DoD database where 16640 of 37483 (44.3% ) listed their religious preference as simply Protestant with no specific denomination. Of those Protestant casualties who did list a denomination, the Baptists were the largest (25.6%) followed by Methodists (10.8%), Lutherans (6.0%) & Presbyterians (3.4%). Percentages shown are of the Protestant total.

If we use the religious preference percentages we can see that Catholics were over-represented -almost 29.0% against a natl preference of 25% In the genl population, while Protestants were slightly under-represented- 64.4 of the V'nam casualties against a natl preference of 67.0%. The low Jewish representation was probably due, in large part, to the high rate of under-graduate & post-graduate matriculation among young Jewish males, estimated at 2 to 3 times that of Protestant & Catholic 17-24 year olds nationwide.

Black casualties were over 85% Protestant. If the 7115 enlisted blacks are removed from the enlisted casualty universe then the white preferences become 60.2% for Protestants & 33% for Catholics.

Other includes Hindu, Thai, Buddhist & Muslim casualties.

 

Vietnam Casualties By Volunteer or Drafted, Enlisted

 

It may come as a surprise to some that 63.3% of all V'nam enlisted casualties were volunteer. If ofcrs are added then almost 70% of those who died in V'nam were volunteers. Of course, the Marine, Navy & Air Corps enlisted personnel were, with the exception of a small percentage of USMC, all volunteer & as it turned out almost 50% of Army enlisted casualties were also volunteer.

The draft policy at the time of the V'nam War was called the Universal Mili Training & Service Act. Since its adoption in 1951 at the time of the Korean War, it had been renewed by Congress every 4 years. It called for the registration of all 18-26 year old males with induction to take place at 18 1/2 if so ordered by the local draft board. The draftee, if found mentally & physically fit, would be inducted for a period of 2 years, to be followed by another 2 year period in the active reserves & a subsequent 2 years in the inactive reserves.

The draft was specifically designed to trigger volunteer enlistments before age 18 1/2 had been reached. Volunteers were allowed to enlist as early as age 17 (with parental consent) & were required to serve for 3 years on active duty followed by 3 years as inactive reservists.

But the volunteer prog looked promising to the potential draftee because it allowed him to select his branch of service & receive specialized training if he qualified. He was able to fulfill his mili obligation immediately & he would be required to serve only another 3 years in the inactive reserves.

It becomes clear then why almost 65% of enlisted casualties were volunteers & 1/3d of these were 17-19 years of age & over 2/3ds were 17 to 21.

Data and anaylsis compiled by William F. Abbott from figures obtained shortly after the construction of the Vietnam War Memorial

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A. Geographic By Region: Deaths per 100000 pop.
B. Age
C. By State (Highest)
D. By State (Lowest)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Vietnam Casualties by Race, Ethnicity and Natl Origin

 

Of all enlisted men who died in V'nam, blacks made up 14.1% of the total. This came at a time when they made up 11.0% of the young male population nationwide. If we add officer casualties to enlisted then the black percentage is reduced to 12.5% of all casualties.

Of the 7262 blacks who died, 6, 955 or 96% were Army and Marine enlisted men. The combination of our selective service policies, our AFQT testing of both drafted and volunteers, the need for skilled enlisted men in many areas of the armed forces, all conspired to assign blacks in greater numbers to the combat units of the Army and Marine Corps. Early in the war, when blacks made up about 11.0% of our V'nam force, black casualties soared to over 20% of the total (1965, 1966). Black leaders protested and Pres Johnson ordered that black participation should be cut back in the combat units. As a result, the black casualty rate was cut to 11.5% by 1969.

The DoD database contains no info on Hispanic-Amer casualties. Hispanics can be of any race, but the 1980 census revealed that only 2.6% regard themselves as black. In a massive sampling of the database we were able to establish that between 5.0 and 6.0> had Hispanic surnames. These were Mexican, Puerto Rican, Cuban and other Latino-Americans with ancestries based in Central and South Amer. The 1970 census which we are using as our V'nam era population base, estimated Hispanic-Americans at 4.5% of the US population.

Thus we think it is safe to say that Hispanic-Americans were over-represented among V'nam casualties-an estimated 5.5% of the casualties against 4.5% of the 1970 population. These casualties came largely from California and Texas with lesser numbers from Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona, Florida and New York and some from many states across the country.

During the V'nam war, the Navy and Air Force became substantially white enclaves. Of the 4953 Navy and Air Force casualties, both officer and enlisted, 4, 736 or 96% were white.

Officer casualties of all branches were overwhelmingly white. Of the 7877 officer casualties, 7595 or 96.4% were white, 147 or 1.8% were black; 24 or .3% were Asian, 7 or .08% were Amer Indian and 104 (1.3%) were unidentified by race.

In terms of natl origin/ancestries our massive sampling of the database reveals that Americans of Italian, French Canadian, Polish and other Southern and Eastern European surnames made up about 10% of the casualties. These casualties came largely from the Northeast and North Central regions, many from the traditionally patriotic working class neighborhoods.

It becomes apparent that the remaining 70% of V'nam enlisted casualties were of English/Scottish/Welsh, German, Irish, and Scandinavian-Amer ancestries, more from the South and Mid-West than the other regions, many from the small towns with a family military tradition.

The officer corps has always drawn heavily on English, German, Irish and Scandinavian-Amer ancestries from lower-middle and middle class white collar homes with other large percentages from ambitious blue-collar and career military families. By region, officer casualties came more from the South and West (4.1 per 100000 population) to 3-5 from the Northeast and North Central.

 

Casualties by Country in SouthEast Asia

 

It should be noted that 2502 or 4.3% of all casualties took place outside of South V'nam. 70% of these were Navy and Air Force personnel, most of them the pilots and crewmen who flew the recon and bombing sorties into North V'nam, Laos and Thailand.

The Cambodian invasion launched in 1970 to interdict North V'nam supplies on the Ho Chi Minh trail was largely an Army op resulting in 459 Army casualties - 88.0% of the 521 total casualties.

20% of all officer casualties in all the 4 services took place outside of South V'nam.

55% of all Navy and Air Force officer casualties came as the result of action outside of South V'nam.

On the V'nam Vets Memorial Wall a plus sign (+) indicates that the casualty is missing in action (MIA). There were 1300 casualties who were and are listed as MIA. The great majority of these men were Air Force and Navy pilots who were shot down in all the countries of So'east Asia that are shown above.

 

 

 

Vietnam Casualties
A. Enlisted
B. Officer

 

The marital status of 1091 enlisted casualties (2.1%) was unknown.

The USMC, youngest of all the enlisted men, had the lowest percentage of married men. Air Force enlisted men, older and with longer service, had a majority of married men.

The marital status of 108 officer casualties (1.3%) was unknown.

Officers, generally older with longer service and greater means, had a 60% married rate among its casualties. Almost 3-quarters of all Air Force officers were married. Over 70% of all Air Force casualties were married men.

 

Vietnam Casualties By Medal of Honor Winners-Posthumous

 

Of the 204 Medals of Honor awarded during the V'nam War, 149, or 73% were awarded posthumously.

80% of the posthumous Medals of Honor were awarded to enlisted men. Whites accounted for 87% of the Medals of Honor, Blacks 11% and Asians were awarded 3%. 10 of the awards were given to men with Hispanic surnames.

50% of the posthumous Medals of Honor were awarded to men 18 to 21, 72% to men 18 to 24 and 88% to men 18 to 29.

Protestants were awarded 64% of the posthumous Medals of Honor, 30% went to Catholics and 1 to a Buddhist. 9 men had no religious preference or it was unknown/unreported.

102 of the Medals of Honor were awarded posthumously to single men and 47 of the men were married.

 

Casualties by US States of the Union
Based on 1970 US Census

 

 

 

Vietnam Casualties by Most Common Surname
these 100 surnames total 11417 or 20% of the Vietnam dead

 

Adams – 112 Alien – 121 Anderson – 178 Bailey – 56 Baker -- 119
Barnes – 66 Bell – 75 Bennett – 68 Brooks – 65 Brown -- 383
Bryant – 50 Burns – 52 Butler – 54 Campbell – 94 Carter -- 108
Clark(e) – 170 Coleman – 50 Collins – 79 Cook(e) – 99 Cooper -- 62
Cox – 75 Davis – 298 Ellis – 56 Evans – 98 Ferguson – 51 Ford -- 54
Foster – 75 Garcia – 102 Gonzalez(s) 85 Good – 100 Graham -- 61
Gray – 82 Green(e) – 161 Hall – 111 Hamilton – 67 Harris -- 138
Harrison – 51 Hayes – 59 Hernandez(s)53 Hill – 119 Howard -- 61
Hughes – 66 Jackson – 178 James – 60 Jenkins – 66 Johnson -- 526
Jones – 350 Kelly – 61 King – 111 Lee – 98 Lewis – 115 Long -- 69
Lopez – 58 Martin – 175 Miller – 282 Mitchell – 104 Moore -- 205
Morgan – 84 Morris – 77 Murphy – 82 Myers – 51 Nelson -- 119
Parker – 92 Patterson 55 Perry – 61 Peterson – 86 Phillips -- 94
Pierce – 50 Powell – 62 Price – 67 Reed – 71 Richardson 71
Roberts – 95 Robinson – 116 Rodriguez(s)82 Rogers – 75 Ross -- 70
Russell – 58 Sanders – 59 Scott – 123 Simmons – 54 Smith -- 667
Stewart – 80 Sullivan – 61 Taylor – 201 Thomas – 185

Thompson – 182 Turner – 85 Walker – 128 Wallace – 56

Ward – 73 Watson – 73 West – 58 White – 172 Williams -- 406
Wilson – 210 Woods – 52 Wright – 134 Young – 122

 

As 1 walks the Vietnam Vet Memorial Wall, 1 is constantly impressed by the recurrence of the same surnames. The names are listed chronologically by date of death, but the Memorial Directory lists the names in alphabetical order. Here are the most frequently listed:

 

A. Vietnam Casualties by Education - Enlisted
B. AFQT and "Project 100,000"
C. Channeling

 

 

 

The DoD database provides no civilian or military educational levels for the Vietnam Casualties. However, the DOD dies provide general levels for all enlisted men across all services during the Vietnam era.

We have taken an average for the years 1966, 1968, and 1971 for entering white and black enlisted men with the following result:

Estimates of some college for enlisted men range up to 10, conducted less that 1% for college graduates.

Most of the young Amer enlisted men who served in V'nam were not likely college prospects at the time they entered the service. Those who could have qualified for college probably did not have the funds or the motivation. Many of the 17 and 18 year olds were simply late in maturing, were struggling through or dropping out of high school, or if high school graduates were testing poorly for college entrance. Yet, as it turned out, the percentage of V'nam vets who applied for the GI Bill was higher than either World War II or the Korean War.

AFQT and "Project 100,000"

The Armed Forces Qualifications Test (AFQT) was given to all enlisted entrants in all branches whether volunteer or drafted. These aptitude scores were used to classify entrants into 4 categories and their subsequent assignments in the indiv services.

The scores fluctuated somewhat during the war but again we have taken the average of scores for entering enlisted men for the years 1966, 1968 and 1971:

The scores reflect the fact that although 60% of entering blacks were high school graduates, they still did not test well on the AFQT aptitude examination. The indiv services, striving to form their most effective units, would often assign the highest aptitude entrants (categories I and II, and higher range III) to further specialized training and eventually to the skilled, the technical and administrative units. Categories III and IV, for both whites and blacks, were more often assigned to the combat units where most of the casualties took place.

Lower end category IV's (scoring below 20) were usually rejected for service. But many in the Johnson Admin, including SecDef Robert Mcnamara, had decided in 1966 that opportunities for many of these men were being denied, that the lower category IV's would somehow benefit from the traditional and remedial training in the service and then be able to compete successfully when they retd to civilian life.

The prog was called "Project 100000" and in the years from 1966 to 1971, 336, 000 draftees and volunteers from lower end category IV's were phased into the service. More than 40% were minorities, 50% were from the Southern region and the average reading ability was at the 6th grade level. Most of these men were assigned to combat units in the Army or to food service, transportation and supply. Social scientists have disagreed over the success or failure of this prog. The most recent study by the Human Resources Research Org (HumRRO), found that the category IV peers who had not entered the military were often better off in terms of employment status, educational achievement and income.

Many high ranking military men (including Genl Westmoreland) opposed this pro gram feeling that the effectiveness of some units was reduced and that fellow soldiers were sometimes put in greater jeopardy. Of the 336, 111 men who were phased into the service (mostly the Army) under "Project 100000", 2, 072 were killed. This amounted to 4.1 a of all enlisted casualties in V'nam.

Channeling

Channeling was an official publication of the Selective Service System issued in Jul of 1965 and was sent to all local draft boards. It sought to justify the deferment of college bound young men, undergraduates and post graduate students as being in the larger natl interest "The Selective Service System has the responsibility to deliver manpower to the armed forces in such a manner as to reduce to a minimum any adverse effect upon the natl health, safety, interest and progress."

The channeling philosophy continued in the armed forces themselves through the AFQT process: where the men of higher intelligence and ski a s(Category I and II) were more likely to be assigned to the non-combat units.

 

Enlisted V'nam Casualties by Rank

 

Data compiled William F. Abbott from figures obtained shortly after the construction of the Vietnam War Memorial

Casualties by Branch of Service

 

The figures show that of 2100000 men and women who served in V'nam, 58,152 or 2.7% were killed. The 66% casualties Army suffered the most, 38,179 or of all casualties. As a branch of the US forces, however, the Marine percentage Corps lost the highest of its own men (5.0%) which in turn accounted for 25.5% of all casualties.

 

1. Almost all of the 6600 commissioned officers who died in V'nam were graduates of the service academies, the college ROTC or OCS programs.

2. The major service academies and other military colleges provided close to 900 of the V'nam officer casualties:

 

 

THE NAMES ON THE WALL: A CLOSER LOOK
by William F Abbott, Vietnam Veteran

 

"...In honor of the men and women of the Armed Forces the US who served in the V'nam War. The names of those who gave their lives and of those who remain missing are inscribed in the order they were taken from us." --
Inscription at the beginning of The Wall.

The names are etched onto the 2 rising black marble walls that meet at a vortex of 125 degrees 10 feet above ground level. It is intended that the shining surface will reflect the sun, the ground and those who stand before it. The names are listed chronologically by date of death -the 1st to last- and as 1 walks The Wall slowly, examining the ineffably Amer names, 1 is struck by the same recurring surnames. How many Smiths can there possibly be who died in V'nam? There were 667. How many Andersons? 178. Garcias? 102. Murphys? 82. Jenkins? 66. 1 wants to know more about these

AMERICANS. WHO WERE THEY?

A new DoD database computer tape released through the Nat'l Archives allows researchers for the 1st time to take a much closer look at our 58,152 V'nam casualties.

2,100,000 served in V'nam in the years from 1964-73. This was exactly 24% of the 8444000 who were in the active Armed Forces during those years, but only 8% of the 26000000 Americans who were eligible for military service. The vast majority of Americans who were eligible by age but did not serve in the Armed Forces were exempted by reason of physical, mental, psychiatric, or moral failure; or they were given status deferments because they were college students, fathers, teachers, engineers, or conscientious objectors. Others were simply ineligible by age phasing, high lottery number, or they joined the Reserves or Nat'l Guard. Still others, a small number relatively, refused to register for the draft; some went to Canada or Sweden, few were actually prosecuted, and most were eventually pardoned by Pres Carter's ExecOrd in 1977.

The DoD database shows that of 2100000 men and women who served in V'nam, 58152 or 2.7% were killed. The Army suffered the most casualties, 38179 or 66% of all casualties. As a branch, however, the USMC lost the highest percentage of its own men (5%) which in turn accounted for 25.5% of all casualties.

8 women were killed in V'nam - 5 Army Lieutenants, 1 Army Capt, 1 Army LtCol and 1 USAF Capt. All were nurses, all were single and all but 1 were in their twenties. An estimated 11000 women served in V'nam.

In this rpt we will speak of casualties as the 58152 who died in V'nam, but it should be emphasized that there were 153303 who were wounded seriously enough to be hospitalized and recorded by branch of service. Thus, there were 211455 killed and wounded or 1 in every 10 Americans who served in V'nam. The Army as a branch had 134982 killed or wounded (9.5%), but the Marines suffered 66227 killed and wounded or almost 1 in every 4 Marines who served.

AGE and RACE OF ENLISTED MEN

Since the days of Alexander the Great and the Caesars of Rome it has always been the young, inexperienced, low-ranking enlisted man (the dog-face of WW2, the grunt of V'nam) who has taken the brunt of combat casualties.

V'nam was no different and the DoD percentages reveal that nearly 75% of Army enlisted casualties were Privates or Corporals. The USMC losses were skewed even more to the lower ranks- 91% were Pvts or Cpls. If the 2 branches are combined then 80% of the Army and Marine enlisted casualties were Privates or Cpls-grades E1-E4. Although it is a truism that the young die in war, 1 is still unprepared for the fact that 40% of Marine enlisted casualties in V'nam were teenagers that over 16% of Army enlisted casualties were also teenagers and that nearly 1/4 of all enlisted casualties in V'nam were in the same 17-19 year age group. If the demographic is expanded to 17-21 then we find that 83% of Marine enlisted casualties, 65% of Army enlisted casualties, and nearly 70% of all enlisted casualties were 21 or under. Only the Navy with 50% of its enlisted casualties over 21 and the USAF with 75% over 21 showed an older more experienced age demographic.

[Footnote: USCG casualties are included in the Navy totals. Of the 8000 Coastguardsmen who served in V'nam, 7 were killed and 59 wounded.]

No other Amer war has presented such a young profile in combat. These young men were trained quickly, shipped to V'nam quickly and died quickly - many within a few weeks or months of arriving in V'nam.

Given the draft policies, the hard sell recruitment, the severe escalations from month to month, the refusal by Pres Johnson to call up the older Reserves or Natl Guard, it could not have been otherwise. The burden of combat fell on the very available non-college bound young. The civ and military men who formed the policy did not see it necessarily as a disadvantage. The very young are considered by many to be preferred combat material. Despite their inexperience they are thought to accept discipline readily, they do not, in most cases, carry the burdens of wife or children, they are at their peak physically and, perhaps more importantly, many of them probably do not yet fully understand their own mortality, and are therefore less likely to be timid in combat and, as in all Amer wars, it is the very young who are the most willing to volunteer.

VOLUNTEER OR DRAFTED-ENLISTED MEN

It may come as a surprise to some that 63.3% of all V'nam enlisted casualties were volunteer. If officers are added then almost 70% of those who died were volunteers. Of course, the Marine, Navy and Air Corps enlisted personnel were, with the exception of a small number of Marines, all volunteer, but as it turned out almost 50% of Army enlisted casualties were also volunteer. It should be noted, however, that the draft was specifically designed to "trigger" volunteer enlistments. The draft policy at the time of the V'nam Mar was called the Universal Military Training and Service Act. Since its adoption in 1951 at the time of the Korean War, it had been renewed by Congress every 4 years. It called for the registration of all 18-26 year old males with induction to take place at 18 1/2 if so ordered by the local draft board. The draftee, if found mentally and physically fit, would be inducted for a period of 2 year, to be followed by another 2 year period in the active reserves and a subsequent 2 years in the inactive reserves. But recruiters could point out that the volunteer could enlist as early as age 17 (with parental consent) that he was allowed to select his branch of service that he would receive specialized training if he qualified; that he could request a specific overseas assignment; and that his 3 year enlistment satisfied his military obligation immediately, to be followed by another 3 years in the inactive reserves. Sad to say that many of these recruitment promises were fudged in 1 way or another and many of these young men found themselves shipped directly to V'nam after basic training.

1 additional factor, often overlooked, that entered into volunteer enlistment was military tradition, or put in another way, the influence of fathers, grandfathers, brothers, uncles and other men in the extended family who had served in previous 20th century wars. In these families, no matter what was thought of the legitimacy of the V'nam War itself, it was considered unpatriotic and indeed reprehensible to avoid active duty by requesting a status deferment, enlisting in the Reserves or Natl Guard or seeking out a "draft counselor" for advice on how to avoid the draft. This, of course, was 1 of the great and abiding agonies of the V'nam War, causing repercussions Within families that have lasted to this day.

AGE and RANK OF OFFICERS

The training for Amer officers beginning with the 3 service academies, the other military colleges, the extensive ROTC prog and the Officer Candidate School (OCS) is thought by many foreign military authorities to be the best in the world. Officer casualties in V'nam, including Warrant Officers, numbered 7874 or 13.5% of all casualties. The Army lost the greatest number of officers, 4635 or 59% of all officer casualties.

[Footnote: With few exceptions, almost all of the 6600 commissioned officers who died in V'nam were graduates of the service academies, the college ROTC or OCS programs. The major service academies and other military colleges provided close to 900 of the V'nam officer casualties: US Military Academy (278); USAF Academy (205); US Naval Academy (130); Texas AandM (112); The Citadel (66); Virginia Military Institute (43); Virginia Polytechnic Institute (26); Norwich Univ'y (19)]

91% of these Army officers were either Warrant Officers, 2nd Lieutenants, 1st Lieutenants or Captains. This was a reflection of the Warrant Officer role as a chopper pilot (of the 1277 Warrant Officer casualties, 95% were Army chopper pilots), and that of the young Lieutenants and Captains as combat platoon leaders or company cmdrs. The same profile holds true for the USMC where 87% of all officer casualties (821 of 938) were either WO, Lts or Capts. Army and Marine officer fatalities in V'nam were also quite young. Fully 50% were in the 17-24 year age group and, astonishingly, there were 764 Army officer casualties (16%) who were 21 or younger. Quite a different profile emerges amongst the Navy and USAF officer corps. The USAF lost the highest percentage of officers. Of 2590 USAF casualties, officer and enlisted, 1674 or 65% were officers. Many of them, as experienced pilots, were older (2/3ds were 30 or older) and many were high-ranking, almost 50% were Majors, LtCols, Colonels and 3 were Genls. The Navy had a similar profile - 55% of its 622 officer casualties were 30 years of age or older and 45 a were ranked at LtCmdr or above when they died. It should be added that 55% of all Navy and USAF officer casualties came as a result of the recon and bombing sorties into N.V'nam, Laos, Thailand and Cambodia. As a result it was mainly the families of Navy and USAF pilots who suffered the great agony of the POW and MIA experience that came out of the V'nam War.

MAKEUP OF FORCES

The makeup of our combat forces in V'nam has long been the subject of controversy among civ and military social scientists. The feeling is that the poor, the under-educated, the minorities made up the vast majority of the combat arms in V'nam. Farther, it is felt by some that this was the very antithesis of what we stand for as a democracy; a shameful corruption of our values and our historical sense of fairness and social justice. There is some truth to this but it will be instructive to look at the DoD database for what it reveals in terms of race, ethnicity, nat'l origin, religious preference and casualties by US geographic areas.

Race, Religion, Ethnicity and National Origin Of all enlisted men who died in V'nam, blacks made up 14.1% of the total. This came at a time when blacks made up 11% of the young male population nationwide. However, if we add officer casualties to the total then this over- representation is reduced to 12.5% of all casualties. Of the 7262 blacks who died, 6955 or 96% were Army and Marine enlisted men. The combination of our selective service policies, our skills and aptitude testing of both volunteers and draftees (in which blacks scored notice ably lower) all conspired to assign blacks in greater numbers to the combat units of the Army and USMC.

Early in the war, when blacks made up about 11% of our V'nam force, black casualties soared to over 20% of the total (1965 and 1966). Black leaders, including Martin Luther King, protested and Pres Johnson ordered that black participation in the combat units should be cut back. As a result, the black casualty rated was reduced to 11.5% by 1969.

During the V'nam War, the Navy and USAF became substantially white enclaves. Of the 4953 Navy and USAF casualties, both officer and enlisted, 4736 or 96% were white. Officer casualties of all branches were overwhelmingly white. Of the 7877 officer casualties, 7595 or 96.4% were white; 147 or 1.8% were black; 24 or .03% were Asian; 7 or .08% were Naive Amer and 104 or 1.3% were unidentified by race.

The DoD database contains no information on Hispanic-Amer casualties. Hispanics can be of any race, but the 1980 census revealed that only 2.6% regard themselves as black. In a massive sampling of the database we were able to establish that between 5.0 and 6.0% had identifiable Hispanic surnames. These were Mexican, Puerto Rican, Cuban and other Latino-Americans with ancestries based in Central and South Amer. They came largely from California and Texas with lesser numbers from Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona, Florida and NY and a few from many states across the country The 1970 census which we are using as our V'nam era population base, estimated Hispanic-Americans at 4.5% of the US population. Thus we think it is safe to say Hispanic-Americans were over-represented among V'nam casualties - an estimated 5.5% of the dead against 4.5% of the 1970 population. The Territory of Puerto Rico suffered 345 V'nam dead.

In terms of nat'l origin ancestries our extensive sampling of the database reveals that Americans of French Canadian, Polish, Italian and other Southern and Eastern European surnames made up about 10% of the V'nam casualties. These casualties came largely from the Northeast and North Central regions, many from the traditionally patriotic, Catholic working class neighborhoods.

[Footnote: The DoD database listed precise religious preferences for the V'nam casualties. Protestants were 64.4% (37483), Catholics were 28.9% (16806). Less than 1% (.08%) were Jewish, Hindu, That, Buddhist or Muslim and 5.7% listed no religious preference or it was unknown. Blacks were exactly 85% Protestant. Officers of all services, by tradition largely Protestant, remained so during the V'nam War, sustaining casualties on a 5 to 2 ratio.]

It becomes apparent that the remaining 70% of our V'nam enlisted casualties were of English/Scottish/Welsh, German, Irish, and Scandanavian-Amer ancestries, more from the south and Mid-West than the other regions, many from the small towns with a family military tradition. The officer corps has always drawn heavily on English, German, Irish and Scandanavian-Amer ancestries from-lower-middle and middle class white-collar homes with other large percentages from ambitious blue collar and, of course, career military South and West regions - 4.1 deaths per 100000 to 3.5 from the Northeast and North Central (Mid-West).

CASUALTIES BY GEOGRAPHIC REGION

As a region, the South experienced the greatest numbers of V'nam dead- nearly 34% of the total and 31.0 deaths per 100, 000 of population. This compared graphically with the Northeast region-23.5- while the West was 29.9 and the North Central (Mid-West) region stood at 28.4 deaths per 100000 of population. This uneven impact was caused by a number of factors: 1) While the South was home to some 53% of all blacks in the 1970 census almost 6% of black casualties came from the South; 2) Although we cannot be as precise we do know that a considerable majority of Hispanic-Amer casualties came from the West (California, New Mexico, Arizona, Colorado) and the South (Texas); 3) Better employment opportunities in the Northeast reduced the number of volunteers; 4) Greater college matriculation in the Northeast increased the number of status deferments for the region's 17-24 year olds; 5) More anti-war sentiment in the media and on college campuses in the Northeast and a correspondingly greater tradition of military service in the other regions. It is not surprising, for instance, that West Virginia, Montana and Oklahoma had a casualty rate almost twice that of NY, New Jersey and Connecticut.

CHANNELING

WW2 had been, for the most part, "a perfect war", clear of purpose, the forces of democracy and freedom lined up against the forces of fascism and tyranny. Our combat arms were thought to be completely classless. They drew on ever segment of Amer society. We were 1 giant Hollywood B17 bomber crew; 1 perfect socio-economic platoon storming Omaha Beach or Okinawa. All classes were drafted or volunteered and all served and died equally - although it must be noted that most blacks died separately. But with the beginning of the Cold War that perfect paradigm of purpose broke down and 1 of the features of that breakdown was the withdrawal of the educated classes from the spectrum of military service.

A kind of educational apartheid had settled over the US after WW2. Where previously a high school diploma had been an acceptable goal, now it was college and all the benefits it would bring. Early on it had been evident to Pres Johnson, his advrs and the Congress that the V'nam War could not be conducted beyond its 1st year if the draft had been truly equitable and had included combat assignments for the sons of the educationally advantaged and influential Americans from the professional and managerial classes. Congress and the Johnson Admin sought to protect our college bound and educated young men.

The "Channeling Memo" of 7-1965 instructed local draft boards to defer the college bound, undergraduates and post-graduates: "The Selective Service System has the responsibility to deliver manpower to the armed forces in such a manner as to reduce to a minimum my adverse effect upon the nat'l health, safety, interest and progress."

Many of us forget that Congress and the Amer people were mostly behind our containment effort in V'nam. The young enlisted volunteer and draftee had not had much time to form any complicated theories about our V'nam commitment. He accepted the tradition of military service passed on to him by the popular culture and by the Kennedy/Johnson containment paradigm: "Let every nation know, whether it wishes us well or ill, that we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe, to assure the survival and success of liberty." Eventually, of course, as the war dragged on and the casualties mounted our commitment was reexamined and for all the well known reasons we were-forced to conclude that the courageous wheel of communist containment that we had fashioned after WW2 had finally developed a badly broken spoke.

EDUCATION LEVELS and AFQT SCORES

Most of the young Amer enlisted men who served in V'nam were not college prospects at the time they entered the service. Those who could have qualified for college probably did not have the funds or motivation. Many of the 17- 18 year olds were simply late in maturing, they were struggling through or dropping out of high school; or, if high school graduates were testing poorly for college entrance. Yet, as it turned out, the percentage of V'nam vets who applied for the GI Bill was higher than either WW2 or Korea.

The DoD database provides no civ or military educational levels for the V'nam casualties. However, the DoD does provide genl levels for all enlisted men across all the services during the V'nam era. The figures show that on average 65% of white enlisted men and 60% of black enlisted men were high school graduates. Only 5-10% of enlisted men in the combat units were estimated to have had some college and less that 1% were college graduates.

The Armed Forces Qualification Test (AFQT) was given to all enlisted men. These aptitude scores were used to classify entrants into 4 categories and their subsequent assignments in the indiv services. On average, 43% of white enlisted entrants placed in categories I and 11 (score 65-100) and 57% in categories III and IV (score 10-64). For blacks, however, it was only 7% in categories I and II and 93% in categories III and IV. In civ life poor aptitude testing can hurt badly whether for college placement or for simple job advancement at all levels. In the military it can be somewhat more deadly. John Kennedy said that life is unfair. True enough, but many of the surviving V'nam casualty families would reply that the ultimate unfairness is death at an early age, in a land far from home, for reasons not clearly defined.

PROJECT 100,000

amounted to 4.1% of all enlisted casualties in V'nam.

Thus we can see that the channeling philosophy continued in the armed forces themselves through the AFQT process where the men scoring in the higher categories were more likely to be assigned to further specialized training and eventually to the skilled, the technical and administrative units.

CLASS and CASUALTIES

It would be wise to dispel the widely held notion that the poor served and died in V'nam while the rich stayed home. A more precise equation would be that the college bound stay ed home while the non-college bound served and died. The idea that our V'nam enlisted dead were made up largely of society's poverty stricken misfits is a terrible slander to their memory and to the solid middle class and working class families of this country who provided the vast majority of our casualties. Certainly some who died came from poor and broken families in the urban ghettos and barrios, or were from dirt-poor farm homes in the South and MidWest. and more's the pity because many of them were trying to escape and didn't make it.

Indeed, recent studies tend to refute what had been the perceived wisdom of social scientists and other commentators that our V'nam dead came overwhelmingly from the poor communities. An MIT study released in 10-1992 found that our V'nam casualties were only marginally greater from the economically lowest 50% of our communities (31 V'nam deaths per 100000 of population) when compared with the highest 50% (26 deaths per 100000 of population). The class aspects of V'nam service had to do more with the obvious unfairness of sending very young non-college candidates to serve and die while the college bound stayed home. It became particularly reprehensible when the stay-at-homes sometimes became the most visible protesters against the war often vilifying those who were serving and dying.

It is instructive to read the surviving and still continuing literature of the war - the letters home from those who died, the novels and narrative accounts of those who served in combat and retd. They often reveal a typically warm Amer family atmosphere; they will refer to older or younger siblings who are either in or on their way to college; they often show a heartbreakingly wry sense of humor with the same sensibilities of their college bound peers. It forces us to the conclusion that many of the names on The Wall were kids who just couldn't quite get it together in high school, perhaps a little late in maturing intellectually and, even had they wanted to a didn't have the resources or the guile to get into college and out of the way when the war came.

FINAL THOUGHTS

The V'nam Vets Memorial Wall is now the most popular tourist attraction in Washg'tn. The ceremony at The Wall on Memorial Day has become the single most important and unifying nat'l event honoring all our vets. What will be the evolving historical judgment for those names on The Wall? with the end of the Cold War many now believe that at its outset the V'nam War was a quite honorable extension of our ultimately successful policy of communist containment; that our effort in V'nam became flawed because of political and strategic failures having nothing to do with those who served there; and, that these young Americans were asked by 3 Presidents and 6 Congresses to give up their lives so that freedom would have a better chance everywhere in the world. As 1 stands before The Wall 1 feels that no other judgment is acceptable to their living memory.

"It was as if the black-brown earth were polished and made into an interface between the sunny world and the quiet dark world beyond that we cannot enter The names would become the memorial. There was no need to embellish." - Maya Ling Lin- Architect of The Wall

POST SCRIPT- THE ALL-VOLUNTEER FORCE

As the V'nam War wound down in the early 70's and the draft was discontinued, an important debate took place among the mili, the executive branch, the Congress and the social scientists. As we have seen the evidence showed quite conclusively that with the exception of our officer corps the college bound and educated classes had almost completely avoided serving in our V'nam combat forces. The crux of the debate on the future of our military therefore became; In a democratic society that demands justice and equality, who should serve when not all serve?

Although there were compellingly egalitarian arguments for some sort of universal military or nat'l service, they did not survive the hard-eyed appraisal of the realists in the Executive, the Congress and the mili. Realistically they looked at the whole spectrum of our young people and decided that, although many of the college bound would, and did, volunteer for the Peace Corps, or social work, or environmental remedies, or other "good works", the great majority would be so caught up in their own careers and self- interest, that we could not begin to persuade them to volunteer for the armed forces and that if we attempted to draft them as part of a natl service they would resist with all the fervor and articulation at their command.

Thus the All-Volunteer Force was born in 1973 and as expected it has had its unrepresentative moments. In the late 70's and early 80's, the Army became over 50% black and Hispanic. Gradually, however, with a combination of intelligent recruitment and raises standards the various branches have matured into something approaching a representative force. During the recent Gulf we our All-Volunteer Force was about 20-25% black, 6% Hispanic, and 11% female. Virtually all enlisted men and women were high school graduates, a fair percentage had some college, AFQT scores had improved substantially over 90 a in categories I through III), and, with the Reserve and NG call-up, the whole force was somewhat older. Should they want 1 most of the returning vets are eligible for a college education. Many will hope to stay in the military as a career ar will come out of the service with skills they could not have acquired as civilians.

The officer corps, still led by the men and women of our service academies, the ROTC and the OCS, is now more representative of our society the ever before. The Gulf war, with its thankfully few casualties, was a vital test. Political and strategic considerations of war and peace aside, the All-Volunteer Force appears to be ready for the 90's and beyond.

NOTE ON SOURCES

Most of the info in this rpt was provided by the Natl Archives in Washg'tn. The database is entitled So'east Asia, Combat Area Casualties File (CACF).

Dept of Defense, Selected Manpower Statistics, 1988-89.
Office of Ass't SecDef-Accessions.
V'nam Vets Memorial-Directory of Names.
Statistical Abstract of the US, 1970-80.
Human Resources Research Org-HumRRO.
Military History Institute, Carlisle Barracks PA
US Military Academy, US Naval Academy, US Air Force Academy
Texas AandM
The Citadel
Virginia Military Institute
Virginia Polytechnic Institute
Norwich University
"We The People" - Allen and Turner, MacMillan and Co, 1988
"Amer's V'nam Casualties Victims of a Class War?"
MIT - Arnold Barnett, Timothy Stanley, Michael Shore
Published in Ops Research, Vol.40, N0.5, Sept/Oct.1992

 

 

• (1) Includes Indian scouts, private militia, civiilians fighting with Army or Navy
• (2) Adjusted for post war related deaths
• (3) 3 combat, 148 terrorist casualties
• (4) To be adusted yearly with post-combat deaths
• [f1] 13 were victims of fragging incident, 23 Mar 2003, 101st Abn Div, 'Camp Pennsylvania', Kuwait

 

Vietnam War Statistics

Personnel

9,087,000 military personnel served on active duty during the Vietnam Era (5 August 1965-7 May 1975)

8,744,000 personnel were on active duty during the war (5 August 1964-28 
March 1973)

3,403,100 (including 514,300 offshore) personnel served in the SE Asia 
Theater (Vietnam, Laos, Cambodia, flight crews based in Thailand and sailors 
in adjacent South China Sea waters).

2,594,000 personnel served within the borders of South Vietnam
( I January 1965 - 28 March 1973)

Another 50,000 men served in Vietnam between 1960 and 1964

Of the 2.6 million, between 1 and 1.6 million (40-60%) either fought in 
combat, provided close combat support or were at least fairly regularly 
exposed to enemy attack.

7,484 women served in Vietnam, of whom 6,250 or 83.5% were nurses.

Peak troop strength in Vietnam was 543,482, on 30 April 1969.

Casualties:

Hostile deaths: 47,359

Non-hostile deaths: 10,797

Total: 58,156 (including men formerly classified as MIA and Mayaguez casualties).

Highest state death rate: West Virginia--84.1. (The national average death rate for males in 1970 was 58.9 per 100,000).

WIA: 303,704 - 153,329 required hospitalization, 50,375 who did not.

Severely disabled: 75,000, 23,214 were classified 100% disabled. 5,283 lost 
limbs, 1,081 sustained multiple amputations. Amputation or crippling wounds to the lower extremities were 300% higher than in WWII and 70% higher than in Korea. Multiple amputations occurred at the rate of 18.4% compared to 5.7% in WWII.

MIA: 2,338

POW: 766, of whom 114 died in captivity.

Draftees vs. volunteers: 25% (648,500) of total forces in country were draftees. (66% of U.S. armed forces members were drafted during WWII)
Draftees accounted for 30.4% (17,725) of combat deaths in Vietnam.

Reservists KIA: 5,977

National Guard: 6,140 served; 101 died.

Ethnic background:

88.4% of the men who actually served in Vietnam were Caucasian, 10.6% 
(275,000) were black, 1.0% belonged to other races

86.3% of the men who died in Vietnam were Caucasian (including Hispanics)
12.5% (7,241) were black.
1.2% belonged to other races

170,000 Hispanics served in Vietnam; 3,070 (5.2%) of whom died there.

86.8% of the men who were KIA were Caucasian
12.1% (5,711) were black; 1.1% belonged to other races.
14.6% (1,530) of non-combat deaths were black
34% of blacks who enlisted volunteered for the combat arms.

Overall, blacks suffered 12.5% of the deaths in Vietnam when the percentage 
of blacks of military age was 13.5% of the population.

Socioeconomic status:

76% of the men sent to Vietnam were from lower middle/working
class backgrounds
75% had family incomes above the poverty level
23% had fathers with professional, managerial, or technical occupations.
79% of the men who served in 'Nam had a high school education or better.
63% of Korean vets had completed high school upon separation from the service)

Winning & Losing:

82% of veterans who saw heavy combat strongly believe the war was lost because of a lack of political will. Nearly 75% of the general public (in 1993) agrees with that.

Age & Honorable Service:

The average age of the G.I. in 'Nam was 19 (26 for WWII) 97% of Vietnam era vets were honorably discharged.

Pride in Service:

91% of veterans of actual combat and 90% of those who saw heavy combat are proud to have served their country. 66% of Viet vets say they would serve again, if called upon. 87% of the public now holds Viet vets in high esteem.

Helicopter crew deaths accounted for 10% of ALL Vietnam deaths. Helicopter losses during Lam Son 719 (a mere two months) accounted for 10% of all helicopter losses from 1961-1975. 

Women Who Died In Vietnam:

U.S. Army

* 2nd Lt. Carol Ann Elizabeth Drazba
* 2nd Lt. Elizabeth Ann Jones

Lt. Drazba and Lt. Jones were assigned to the 3rd Field Hospital in Saigon. They died in a helicopter crash near Saigon, February 18, 1966. Drazba was from Dunmore, PA, Jones from Allendale, SC. Both were 22 years old.

* Capt. Eleanor Grace Alexander
* 1st Lt. Hedwig Diane Orlowski

Capt. Alexander of Westwood, NJ, and Lt. Orlowski of Detroit, MI, died November 30, 1967. Alexander, stationed at the 85th Evac., and Orlowski, stationed at the 67th Evac. in Qui Nhon, had been sent to a hospital in Pleiku to help out during a push. With them when their plane crashed on the return trip to Qui Nhon were two other nurses, Jerome E. Olmstead of Clintonville, WI, and Kenneth R. Shoemaker, Jr. of Owensboro, KY. Alexander was 27, Orlowski 23. Both were posthumously awarded Bronze Stars.

* 2nd Lt. Pamela Dorothy Donovan

Lt. Donovan, from Allston, MA, became seriously ill and died on July 8, 1968. She was assigned to the 85th Evac. in Qui Nhon. She was 26 years old.

* 1st Lt. Sharon Ann Lane

Lt. Lane died from shrapnel wounds when the 312th Evac. at Chu Lai was hit by rockets on June 8, 1969. From Canton, OH, she was a month short of her 26th birthday. She was posthumously awarded the Vietnamese Gallantry Cross with Palm and the Bronze Star for Heroism. In 1970, the recovery room at Fitzsimmons Army Hospital in Denver, where Lt. Lane had been assigned before going to Viet Nam, was dedicated in her honor. In 1973, Aultman Hospital in Canton, OH, where Lane had attended nursing school, erected a bronze statue of Lane. The names of 110 local servicemen killed in Vietnam are on the base of the statue.

* Lt. Col. Annie Ruth Graham, Chief Nurse at 91st Evac. Hospital, Tuy Hoa

Lt. Col. Graham, from Efland, NC, suffered a stroke in August 14, 1968 and was evacuated to Japan where she died four days later. A veteran of both World War II and Korea, she was 52.

U.S. Air Force 

* Capt. Mary Therese Klinker

Capt. Klinker, a flight nurse assigned to Clark Air Base in the Philippines, was on the C-5A Galaxy which crashed on April 4 outside Saigon while evacuating Vietnamese orphans. This is known as the Operation Babylift crash. From Lafayette, IN, she was 27. She was posthumously awarded the Airman's Medal for Heroism and the Meritorious Service Medal.

 

THE RECON CREED

 

Realizing it is my choice and my choice alone
to be a Reconnaissance Marine,
I accept all challenges involved with this profession.
Forever shall I strive to maintain the tremendous reputation
of those who went before me.

Exceeding beyond the limitations
set down by others shall be my goal.
Sacrificing personal comforts and dedicating myself
to the completion of the reconnaissance mission shall be my life.
Physical fitness, mental attitude, and high ethics --

The title of Recon Marine is my honor.

Conquering all obstacles, both large and small,
I shall never quit.
To quit, to surrender, to give up is to fail.
To be a Recon Marine is to surpass failure;
To overcome, to adapt and to do whatever it takes
to complete the mission.

On the battlefield, as in all areas of life,
I shall stand tall above the competition.
Through professional pride, integrity, and teamwork,
I shall be the example
for all Marines to emulate.

Never shall I forget the principles
I accepted to become a Recon Marine.
Honor, Perseverance, Spirit and Heart.

A Recon Marine can speak without saying a word
and achieve what others can only imagine.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1^st Reconnaissance Battalion & Attached Units KIA’S Vietnam

1st Marine Division insignia		1st Reconnaissance Battalion insignia
Active	Active	since 1937
Country	Country	United States
Branch	Branch	USMC
Type	Role	Reconnaissance
Role	Part of	1st Marine Division I Marine Expeditionary Force
Size	Garrison/HQ	Marine Corps Base Camp Pendleton
Part of	Motto	"Celer, Silens, Mortalis" "Swift, Silent, Deadly"
Garrison/HQ	Engagements
Nickname	Commanders
Motto	Current commander
Colors	Marine Corps Colors
March	"Waltzing Matilda"
Mascot	Bulldog

 

 

Vietnam War

In 1965, the 7th Marine Regiment participated in Operations Starlite and Piranha, the first major engagements for American ground troops in South Vietnam.^[20]. March 1966 saw 1st Marine Division Headquarters established at Chu Lai.^{[citation needed]} By June, the entire Division was in South Vietnam, its zone of operation—the southern two provinces of I Corps—Quang Tin and Quang Ngai.^{[citation needed]} Between March and October 1966 to May 1967, the division conducted 44 named operations. During the 1968 Tet Offensive, the division was involved in fierce fighting with both Viet Cong and North Vietnamese Army elements. It was successful in beating back enemy assaults in its operation areas. The division received it 7th Presidential Unit Citation for service from 29 March 1966 to 15 September 1967 and an 8th one for the period 16 September 1967 to 31 October 1968.^{[citation needed]}

After six hard years of combat, 1st Marine Division returned home to Camp Pendleton in 1971. In 1975, the division supported the evacuation of Saigon by providing food and temporary shelter at Camp Pendleton for Vietnamese refugees as they arrived in the United States

 

 

 

                               

The 1st Reconnaissance Battalion (1st Recon Bn) is a reconnaissance battalion in the United States Marine Corps. It falls under the 1st Marine Division and the I Marine Expeditionary Force (I MEF). 1st Recon Bn was recently reactivated, on July 5, 2000 as part of Marine Corps Commandant General James L. Jones’ mission to revitalize Marine Corps reconnaissance. Their scope of missions is broad and currently changing due to Force Reconnaissance units making a move to - Marine Corps Special Operations Command. 1st Reconnaissance Battalion currently consists of three Reconnaissance companies: Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie, with a supporting Headquarters Company. Delta company which used to fall under 1st Reconnaissance Battalion, now falls under the direct command of the I MEF commander.

 

Mission

• Plan, coordinate, and conduct amphibious reconnaissance, ground reconnaissance and surveillance to observe, identify, and report enemy activity, and collect other information of military significance.
• Conduct specialized terrain reconnaissance to include: hydrography, beaches, roads, bridges, routes, urban areas, helicopter landing zones, airborne drop zones, aircraft forward operating sites, and mounted reconnaissance missions.
• When properly task organized with other forces, equipment or personnel, assist in specialized engineer, radio, mobile, and other unique reconnaissance missions.
• Infiltrate mission areas by necessary means to include: surface, subsurface and airborne operations.
• Conduct counter reconnaissance.
• Conduct Initial Terminal Guidance (ITG) for helicopters, landing craft, parachutists, air-delivery, and re-supply.
• Designate and engage selected targets with organic weapons and force fires to support battlespace shaping. This includes designation and terminal guidance of precision-guided munitions.
• Conduct post-strike reconnaissance to determine and report battle damage on a specified target or area.
• Conduct limited scale raids and ambushes.

 

Training

Potential Reconnaissance Marines in the past were screened by the receiving reconnaissance battalion and were subsequently assigned to a pre-basic reconnaissance course (Pre-BRC) program which were known as "Recon Indoc Platoon" or "Recon Training Platoon". However, due to changes made recently, Marines who wish to join the reconnaissance community must first complete the School of Infantry's Rifleman (0311) course prior to being assigned to the "MART" (Marines Awaiting Recon Training) platoon. The Marines then continue to the Basic Reconnaissance Course at the Reconnaissance Center of Excellence at School of Infantry, West aboard Camp Pendleton California.

While at this school prospective reconnaissance Marines, called "ropers" for the distinguishing sling ropes they are required to wear, receive training on mission planning, advanced patrolling, advanced radio communications, advanced land navigation, reconnaissance and surveillance techniques, calling for artillery and close air support, small boat operations, and clandestine operations.

Upon successful completion of the BRC the Marines receive the MOS designator "0321" or Reconnaissance man. They then attend S.E.R.E School, United States Army Airborne School, and Combatant Diver school.

In addition to these core courses Recon Marines will have the opportunity to attend Sniper School, Military Free Fall school, Ranger school, and H.R.S.T. master school, and Pathfinder school as slots become available.

 

 

 

 

 

                                                        

 

In August of ‘69, I also sealed the past away in a sea trunk with I call my time capsule today.

 

All my items from 1^st recon and the marine corps except for my photos, they’re collecting dust in photo albums on a shelf or two and a couple of them in my office at work. And a few medals in a case in a closet at home. The balance of the war is in this large sea trunk from the ‘30s. It’s the kind that opens up into a suite of furniture like an armoire and a chest of drawers. So I’m looking forward to opening it with the key I misplaced. But for the time I’ll be patient not to break the lock to open it. I’m thinking to myself I’m an antique dealer and this trunk is an artifact from the ‘30s. I’ll call it my time capsule for now. Forty years now it seem like yesterday for me. Each day brings back some thing new for me. I have been looking frantically for that trunk key with no luck. And I can recall that day I arrived in Nam as a replacement for one of those brave men of Hill 200. And now forty years to the day I stumbled across their story on the web as told by Doug Wolfe of team Blue Spruce. He calls his story “Thoughts of that Day”.

 

Here is Doug’s story of Hill 200,

 

Thoughts of that Day

Today is a particularly dreary, rainy day. Lookout Mountain is socked in good. It is not unusual for it to be socked in. Hell they fought the Battle above the Clouds there during the Civil War. However, today it put me in mind of another dreary, socked in ridge I was on for around 2 hours on 3 June, 1968. Known only to me as Hill 200, it was a desolate, indefensible place that somebody in the 1st Mardiv G3 shop picked off the map to insert my platoon on as an observation post & radio relay.200 was a high hump on a triple canopy ridge line running northeast to southwest. One could observe a small section of a river to the south if one looked closely and the hill wasn’t socked in as it was when I was there. Other than that, all you could observe was a lot of triple canopied high ground that surrounded the hill for approximate 320 of the 360 degrees of view. For those less trained in the fine art of surveillance than myself¼¼¼¼.You couldn’t see shit and the place was a defender’s nightmare. On 29 May, 1968 team Cayenne 3rd Platoon Bravo Company. 1st Reconnaissance Battalion (Rein) led by S/Sgt. Phil Hampton inserted on hill 200 to conduct a 6 day static OP mission & act as a radio relay for teams operating in the far reaches of the battalion comm. net. Hampton’s team was composed of his normal people operating with Cayenne, HM3 Earl Lerch, and the remainder of the platoon minus an 8 man patrol being conducted on Charlie Ridge by Team Blue Spruce, the other team in the Platoon. His patrol numbered 15 14 Marines & 1 Navy Corpsman. (HM3 Lerch)They were inserted by CH46 helicopters after fixed wing had prepped the zone and basically blown the jungle off the ridge line for about 100 meters along the spine of the ridge and about 75 meters of the sides of the finger. They immediately set to work digging 2 man positions, setting fields of fire, putting out their claymores, & laying a pitiful single strand of concertina wire on their perimeter. Only God and Phil Hampton know why a request for extraction from this position was not submitted. Maybe one was, but the 1st Recon Unit Diary shows no such request. From the insertion thru the day of the 2nd of June, the patrol was uneventful, other than 1 sighting called in on a sampan traveling upriver. The SALUTE report cited 2 male occupants dressed in black Pj’s. No packs or weapons were observed and no request for fire was submitted. The afternoon of 2 June marked a turn for the worse in the weather. The rain came and the accompanying fog started to sock the team in. the team set in for a miserable night in the mountain jungle, but what the fuck, they were getting out in the morning. On the 30th of May Team Blue Spruce had returned to Camp Reasoned from our patrol. We were debriefed, cleaned our weapons and gear, and proceeded to see who could get the drunkest on 3.2 beers. The next few days would be spent taking turns on guard duty on the battalion perimeter, going to freedom Hill PX, and getting briefed and trained up for our next mission. On the 2nd we were assigned the additional duty of acting as the Bravo Co. React team. We were briefed by our TL, Sgt. Jimmy Linn of our duties and advised that there would be no drinking. This fell on deaf ears partly because most of us were already drunk and partly because Shakey Linn was pulling on a Budweiser when he said it. Sometime around midnight we awakened by the Co. 1st Sgt. And Sgt. Linn and advised that Cayenne was in heavy contact, had reported heavy casualties, and had lost common with Grim Reaper. (The Battalion TAC calls sign) We were told to grab our shit and muster at the 3 shop for deployment to their pos. the C.O., 1st Sgt., Linn, & Doc Domino were taken in the 3 shop for briefing and the rest of us were waiting outside for word about our team in trouble. The word we were getting was that the NVA were all over the hill, Huey gunships were on station and providing cover fire, Spooky gunships were on station, but unable to work because of limited visibility due to the hill being socked in, and there was no contact with the team on the ground. We were beside ourselves and begging to be inserted immediately. We were told we would be going in as soon as a viable assessment of the situation on the ground could be made and visibility

Permitted about 0300 we received the word that S/Sgt. Hampton had came up on Grim Reaper’s push and requested emergency medivac for Doc Lerch & himself. A CH53 pilot with a lot more balls than brains landed and picked them up. It has never been made clear to me if Doc Lerch died on the medivac or shortly after landing at Charlie Med. We were advised that Hampton was seriously wounded and reported the rest of his team were dead or missing. We would be inserting as soon after daybreak as the safety of the choppers allowed. We boarded 2 CH46s just before dawn on the morning of the 3rd. The React team was composed of: Sgt. Jimmy Linn TL Cpl. James Southall ATL Cpl. J. Boland Primary radioHM3 Michael Domino Corpsman L/Cpl. Jerry Kecker M79PFC Delbert Enos Rear Point PFC Nelson Livingston Alt Radio PFC Doug Wolfe Point l/Cpl. Dave Morris M60& 2 Marines from 1st MarDiv graves regrestration who I didn’t know. I’m not sure, but believe Capn. Little, B Co. C.O. was co-coordinating the operation from the other CH46 in out flight. We sat down on the south end of the hill and I remember seeing Campanella and McAdams lying in their hole on that side of the hill. They had both been shot in the head. I could not get off the side to my security position soon enough. I could see to my right another fighting position with bodies, but could not tell who they were. I found out later they were Petey Wedemier & Patterson. If you were ever in a firefight with the NVA, you are aware that they didn’t normally leave brass piled up on the battlefield. This morning I was kneeled down in a virtual pile of AK brass. We were later told a force of approximate 30 overran the hill. Bullshit, I never saw a gook on my whole tour with over 3 mags of ammo and it was piled at least 30 to 40 yards up the whole side of the ridge. I think they were hit by at least a Sapper Co. and maybe more. Most of the claymore wires were still in position and had been cut. The claymores themselves were gone and no sign was evident that they had been blown. I was told by Phil Hampton months later that every position on the hill was hit by RPGs in the initial assault after we had been there about 15 minutes I heard a lot of excited shouting from the NE side of the hill. Jim Southall came to our side of the hill and said somebody off the side of the hill was whistling the Marine Corps Hamm and we might have survivors. PFCs Gorman, Mecedo, and L/Cpls Gonzales, Washburn, Ski (can’t remember his real name) and 1 other Marine who I have forgot his name were found in a streambed at the bottom of a cliff on that side of the hill. They had apparently been blown off the hill by the RPGs. I believe it saved their lives. All but Ski were injured to the extent they were sent home. The KIAs, along with HM3 Earl Lerch, who had been medivaced earlier, were L/Cpl. Terry Edgar, PFC Frank Huff, PFC Darrell Campanella, and PFC Gerald McAdams, PFC Peter Wedemier, & PFC Scott Patterson. I will never forget them. They are together on 60w & 61w of the Vietnam Memorial. We also recovered 1 NVA body. I have no idea why they left him. I went on several missions with Hampton after the Cayenne mission and found him to be a brave and competent leader. I never asked him about that mission several times he brought it up and I just listened that what Lookout Mountain being socked in this morning made me think of I hope the fuck it’s sunny & clear in the morning. Respectfully, Doug Wolfe

 

Looking back on this that was the first time I heard the full story on Hill 200. On what happened to Cayenne that night on Hill 200. As a replacement the only thing I was told was a small part of the story. Like the hill was over run with NVA and the team wiped out. Thanks to this story I now know the full story.

 

You see I worked that hill on three different times on OP “observation post” on seven day missions. And each time the night rolled in. What happened to team Cayenne on that night of June 3^rd, 1968 was on my mind and all my marine brothers on those missions on Hill 200. I guess it all in the timing or luck. My time on Hill 200 seemed somewhat normal. I can recall a couple incidents being up all night and calling in flares and artillery.

 

Hill 200

 

 

 

March 1969

Hill 200

 

 

 

 

      

 

 

And on Hill 200 one or two other incidents we call in napalm on one as a battalion size unit of NVA along the river moving in formatting. Besides those I had two KIA off of that hill one with a sniper rifle and one with the 50 caliber machine gun. Yes you I say I can recall Hill 200 as if it was yesterday. And Doug’s story brought back the times I worked with Blue Spruce. I can recall the nightmares and how hard it was to forget it all and move on. But thanks to a story or two, I guess your mind really doesn’t forget things like war. You might think it does, but your just fooling you self. Knowing Doug and Phil Hampton and working with Sgt. Jimmy Linn and Cpl. James Southall, I remember him as a Sgt. Not a Cpl. Maybe a promotion I worked with him from time to time. But I worked with so many marines I’m not really sure at this time of his rank.  And Doug’s story brought back memories of all those brave men of 1^st Recon. And recalling words like, Charlie Ridge, going out on patrols Boarding CH 46 helicopters, pulling down fields of fire, setting up claymore mines, putting out concertina wire, and yes the weather oh that weather what can t say but what a nightmare that can be.  Socked in for days, miserable nights in the mountain jungle, with heavy contacts of enemy moving a round you all night, gunships providing cover fire, working on react teams what a nightmare and training up for mission. Thanks Doug your story brought it all back like a runaway freight train it back on my mind. But this time I’m writing it down as for the brave men KIA on Hill 200 or sent home. I never had the honor of meeting them personally.

 

Thinking back on this summer day I’m thinking I have been in worst scrapes than this one why not one of them missions with gun ships peppering hillsides with rockets and machine gun fire. NVA or VC launched frenzied attacks with A-K 47s or small arms fire or lobbing hand grenades why not one of there missions.

 

 NVA, “The North Vietnamese Army” and also known as PAVN people’s Army of Vietnam.

 

VC, “Viet Cong” was a pejorative term meaning “communist” and was the accepted name for the armed forces of the National Liberation Front.

 

Why not one of there missions why not one of them why this mission, it seem to be playing on my mine a lot. It seems to be the one that is stuck in my mind but I went on so many that I don’t know now if I’ve just put them together in my mind. As I can recall the team seemed to be all in good sprits clowning around as usual as we waited for our ride that day.

 

 

It seemed to be a typical day, hot with a burning sun and to me that meant the mission would be a go.

 

 

 

 

 

 With in minutes we were all boarding CH46 helicopters and lifting off the LZ at base. I recall a Hoo-ya from this bunch of young Marines. I can recall being a little nervous. But this would have been normal for me. Most of our casualties come from being shot down in air by RPGs. A few that I can recall are Team Mayfly June 21^st, 1969, team Rush Act November 18, 1970, I Read they store on June 3^rd, 2008, team Albrook I had the honor of meeting them personally and working with the team a time or two. This story is about team Albrook by, Dan Vanbuskirk of Bravo Co. 68/69. Dan’s story is called my tour in Bravo Co.

 

 

 

	My tour in Bravo Company by Dan Vanbuskirk   I arrived in country in April or May and went out on a few dicey Patrols. We heard that a big patrol was coming in which the best men of each company would be picked because it was extremely dangerous involving a well built up NVA sight near what I believe Was called Yellow Brick road. Anyway it was around the Laotian/Cambodian border. What eventually transpired is that the powers that be decided to send Team Albrook out because they had a lot of experience and unfortunately many of the men were  Short timers. On that note I really pressed them to take me. I was  Turned down because I didn't have enough experience. I remember  That everyone left their wedding bands or valuables behind and wrote letters to their significant others as they did not expect to return.  Sadly they did not return. I remember well that when I first came over  A few rough things happened and I was in fistfights with some of the crusty old veterans who did not take to me too well. The men solved issues out back with fists. The really touching thing is that one of the  men came up to me the night before going out on that fateful mission  And pretty much shared his heart with me and how he wanted to come out of this war a better person. He had a desire to be caring and kind  With people. He said he saw this in me. It really shook me up and I felt very humble in his presence. He was really a damn good Recon Marine and somebody that I respected. Sometimes when we are being Our selves and people seem to dislike us. It could be different than we imagine. One thing that I got clear about as a Marine and a Recon  Marine is to be who you are and be authentic. I wasn't trying to be like everyone else. Some of the leaders or a "few Good Men" encouraged  Me to stay on my path and not change. Some of those men had  Mentored me- telling me things that I needed to hear. How to cross  open country like Charley Ridge, how to work with my M-60, how to  Stay grounded and not react in the wrong way in firefights. Sometimes when as a new guy facing exhaustion they had very tough and physical things that they did to teach me. It was okay as it was always a lesson  Well learned. Those men of Team Albrook went out the next day and  They were shot down by an RPG rocket. I know they gave their all and  I am alive today because they cared. So since I have arrived home in  The states in 69.there have not been a day that I do not remember  Them. Sometimes I go to a quiet VA graveyard and just sit quietly expressing My gratitude for them. Sometimes I ask them for advice  If I am having a challenge with depression or PTSD. I feel them telling  me to enjoy each moment, each breath, and I hear them telling me that they are in a very good place and those they have peace and love in  Their lives.    I have felt a lot of tears down my cheeks over the days, weeks, months and years. I fully understand how much I have to be grateful for and  What it means to be a warrior and cover someone’s back. I feel that I  did well on my tour it was the coming home where my war started...a  lost marriage to the woman that I loved, nightmares, flashbacks, lost  Jobs. It’s not to be regretted at all. It all builds character and makes us who we are. We will never stop being Marines. Or men who care and Fight for ones we love and what we love. Today I relate to the men on Team Albrook as an example to give what I can to the new generation. The men coming home from Iraq and Afghanistan Albrook and my Recon brothers have inspired me to be a giver not a taker. We are  Building a unique slide guitar for a Vietnam vet who has no use of his hands. He lost almost everything physically when he got in a firefight  Trying to get POWs out with the 101st Screaming Eagles in Cambodia/Laos. He shared his story with us, one that he has kept  Secret all of these years. It was heart wrenching but what a brave and selfless man he is. 'This man has shared with us his vision that any quadriplegic should be able to play a guitar if it is designed correctly.  So we learn from a few good warriors to pass it on. My dad landed on Normandy Beach on D-Day as a 101st Screaming Eagle. He never talked about the war to me. I could see his courage in  His character. As a boy, I saw how he treated all people, fairly and with respect. I once saw another man in a rage yelling at my father and my  Dad calmed the man down by not talking it personally and graciously responding to the man. Marines are about doing. Need I say more? Dan Vanbuskirk Bravo 68/69                       Team Mayfly June 21st, 1969                     Team Rush Act November 18, 1970     Our full team all 8 Marines and the helicopter crew are all most Vulnerable in the air as history has proven over time. A small team Of Recon marines are safer on the ground and moving.   The only thing I can say about the ride is the view is spectacular at times. And on this day with the wind in my face why no different as I recall as we approached our area to start our mission the areas names that come to mind at this time are              Quan Duc Valley, Happy Valley, Charlie Ridge, Hai Van Pass,  Hiep Duc Valley, Dai Loc, Thuong Duc, Bach Ma, Quang Nam,   Elephant Valley, Phu Loc Valley, or some when out of Da Nang.   I’m not entirely sure about this day. As we approach the area I recall seeing a snaking river through a valley high elevation on one side of the river and grass on the other side. As we approached it seemed to be flat ground on our side of the river with thick bush behind the grassy area. We were headed for the thick bush and a small clearing. I recall the team to be on high alert. No Hoo-ya from this bunch of Marines this time it’s all business, this is enemy controlled territory. I can recall we are all on high alert. I’m at one of the CH46 windows which have been blown out by a previous recon team. With my M16 and looking for movement on the ground, box mines or booby traps.  We approached by circled and hovered briefly as I stood ready to  return enemy fire if necessary. As gun ships over flight the LZ survey the area as the crew of the CH46 stood ready to return enemy fire. With my M16 and looking for movement on the ground, box mines or booby traps. We approached by circled and hovered briefly as I stood ready to return enemy fire if necessary. As gun ships over flight the LZ survey the area as the crew of the CH46 stood ready to return enemy fire with 50 caliber machine guns. Before we given the enemy any idea or a thought of launched an attack on us. The CH46 hovering and setting down as the chopper stirred up dirt I recall the gate of the CH46 coming down and someone maybe the 1st Lt. Shouting move, move, move, I’m at the gate as it hit the ground looking for mines or booby traps I’m the first one out. Running point I’m searching the ground for signs of booby traps and at the some time searching for the enemy movement. As the chopper stirred up dirt move off the LZ “landing zone” I recall the CH46 flying   off and circled the team and moving off in the air. Moving the team into thick bush this Recon Team of eight Marines is on the ground and moving. I can recall after my team was just inserted into the bush as the two chopper gun ships flew over us as to say good luck marines as the choppers moved off flying back to their base in Da Nang.         I realized that what once was sealed away in my mind is now racing through my mind like a wild fire out of control as I’m reading stories.          Stories from the Battalion website

That click of my mouse and up popped the 1^st Reconnaissance Battalion’s website. Oh my God, I don’t believe it, my old unit.  

 

I spent the remaining part of June 3^rd, 2008 reading stores on the Battalion website. I realized that what once was sealed away in my mind is now racing through my mind like a wild fire.

 

Story #1

 

Letter

 

By David Snider

Delta Company 68/69

 

The story below is a reprint of a letter to Joe Kuchta, brother of Empire State team member John Kuchta. John was killed in February of 1969.

 

Joe was trying to gain information on a Walther P-38 that was returned to him with John's personal effects.

 

Patrol members were Lt. Mann, Cpl. O'Campo, Cpl. Mundorf, L/cpl. Kuchta, L/cpl. Contraras, L/cpl. Cuenca, L/cpl. Martinez, "Doc" Snider, and L/cpl. Molina.

Patrol insert Jan. 7 69

The then current members of Mayfly/Vesper Bells and Empire State had always operated in the mountains and this patrol was the first time that we were asked to operate in the lowlands, specifically in the rice paddies. Dodge City in the Arizona Territory was probably the worst patrol area we could have drawn. It was a huge area and was heavily populated with VC and frontline NVA. The area had numerous villas and contained the famous Go Noi Island. You are aware that the patrol was comprised of Marines from both teams. The most seasoned were chosen for this patrol due to the different nature. I recall that we were told that we were the forward elements of a regimental sized operation, operating about 2-3 days in front of the op. However, I noticed in the patrol papers that we were used in support of the 1st Marines without specifically mentioning an operation name.

We originally were supposed to walk in after fording a river. We were trucked out of Camp Reasoned in covered 6X. We carried an m-60 (Molina) with 1000 rounds of ammo (I humped 300 rounds for him), Cuenca carried the M-79 as well as his M-16 along with 40 rounds of HE. I truly remember these amounts of ammo because afterwards we were astounded that we had not 60 rounds or 79 rounds left. We managed to fire them all up. The rest of us carried M-16’s with anywhere from 20 to 30 magazines apiece. I carried 27, 4 magazine pouches and 7 in a bandoleer. We also carried 4 frag grenades each and each a claymore mine. I do not recall the 4 laaws mentioned. When we got to the river we had to sit around most of the afternoon, as we were not supposed to kick off until nightfall. This was another change from our usual patterns, as we were going to move across the paddies at night and lager up during the days. Our mission was to find and map all bunker systems, enemy concentrations, ammo stashes, etc. When we were fragged for the patrol, we all felt that it was something out of a Hollywood grade “B” movie. It certainly was a different snooping and pooping than we were accustomed to.

Long about dusk we started out and immediately met with failure. There had been recent rain and the river was swollen. Our point, I think it was O’Campo, went under and we had a devil of a time pulling him out. We dinked up and down the river looking for a better place to ford, but were unsuccessful. We radioed back to Bn and they came out and picked us up. The next day we were trucked out to a ROK camp (Republic of Korea). The Koreans were super friendly to us and treated us well as we again waited for nightfall. They gave us Kim Chi, which is fermented cabbage that is extremely hot, as in peppers. If I recall, it had a milky juice. I must admit that I didn’t have the courage to try more than a mouthful. We again waited until nightfall to start the patrol. I want to say that it was after 9 when we kicked of. As a diversion, the ROK’s had a fireX from their lines and we snuck out and headed towards Dodge City. The first night out, several clicks from the ROK’s, and I’m surprised this wasn’t mentioned in the patrol notes; Ocampo hit a trip flare on one of the paddy dikes. We all froze and used good discipline until it burned out. We were scared shitless, but nothing came of it. Apparently, it was an old grunt trip flare that was never taken in. We found numerous bunker complexes, fighting holes and bivouac areas. This was the first time any of us had seen this type of fortifications. We were amazed. During the day, we holed up on small hillocks (unsure of spelling, but the little rises in the paddies that were usually concave inside). It seemed that everywhere we looked we say VC or NVA. Many were dressed in what appeared to be new uniforms. They had web gear and their equipment well taken care of. The physical appearance suggested that they were well fed and rested. Certainly they walked around the area without fear.

On the morning when we first made contact, I was asleep when I heard the M-60 clatter. Molina was standing up firing the 60 from the hip. We had been in a 50% watch and the other watch members started opening up with their 16’s. When I got to the beam of the hillock, I could see 2 NVA running like the devil around 50 meters away. I recall that they were beating feet towards a tree line just to the front of our position. All 8 of us were shooting and I swear we did not kill one of them. I can only think that Lt. Mann was doing the body count thing. But then again, memories are dangerous things.

Following this initial contact, we called Bn and told them of the contact and asked for an emergency extraction. We were told that all choppers were tied up supporting the ground operation behind us and that we should just change our position. We proceeded to move approximately 2-300 meters across open paddies and away from the tree line the NVA escaped into. We found another hillock to hide in which was shaped like a peanut shell. The hillock was concave and ringed with small scrub trees. There was nothing in the center of it. I, Molina, Marinez and Mann were at the end closest to where we had come from. John and the rest of the team were at the other end. After being there for about 1-2 hours, John’s end of the hill erupted in firing. Someone called for me to get my ass over there. I crawled to their end and slid down the side of the hill into the paddy. I crawled over to where John and one of the other team members were crouched over 3 bodies. One was already dead, I recall that his chest was totally ripped open, but two more were alive. Later we were told by John that these three just waltzed across the paddy and into our position. I immediately started to work on the two wounded, they were both officers and we were excited about taking them as prisoners. During this time Mann again was calling for an emergency extraction and was again told that it was not possible. I rolled one of the NVA officers over to look for other wounds and he was lying on the P-38. As was our custom, the shooter gets first dibs on any captured weapons. I recovered the pistol and handed it to John. I remember thinking to myself then that “what in the hell was a gook officer carrying a Nazi weapon”? I wasn’t thinking too well or too worldly to remember that area had known war for centuries and that WWII wasn’t that long ago. I got both of the NVA patched; IV’s started and moved them to the center of the hillock. About an hour after this we started taking fire from the tree line we had originally vacated. It was sparse at first, but soon picked up in volume and tempo. Again, I distinctly remember Mann calling for an emergency extraction and being denied. He called for a fire mission but was told that we were too far out and that there were no batteries that could reach us. This is no shit Joe, I can’t figure out to this day how we were “too far out”. Who knows? Mann was now getting mad and screaming at the radio. We started returning fire to the tree line just to keep their heads down. About an hour after this, I now think it was late afternoon, 1500 - 1600 hrs, the amount of incoming was terrific. The tree limbs and leaves were falling down around us; some of the trees were cut down by the incoming. Mann was getting near to a panic and was demanding extraction. Again we were told that there were not any choppers available for use, as they were all being used to ferry 1st Marines into battle and picking up their medivac. We were told that there were no gun ships available for support either. I remember Mann yelling something over the radio to the effect that they didn’t give a fuck about us and were going to get us all killed.

Sometime later, we were told that they had gotten us air support, 2 OVH-10 Broncos were available. These were neat planes used by the USMC to do spotting. They were slick aircraft with twin tails. In a way they reminded me of the WWII P-38 Lightning. One would be on station and then be replaced by the other. In this way they could rearm and refuel.

The Broncos saved our bacon. They alternated on station for several hours. There were several attempts by the NVA to come across the paddy and it was the Broncos that kept them in line. The planes were equipped with WP rockets and 60’s. Dusk was soon upon us and would be totally dark in 20 - 30 minutes when we were told to saddle up for an extraction. We were told that 2 CH-46’s were 10 - 15 minutes out and would be accompanied by 2 Huey guns. When we saw one of the 46’s start their spiral in, we fired up all of our claymores, we weren’t going to recover them or leave them and we headed to the paddy. We had the two NVA in ponchos, I was carrying one with Cuenca, but don’t remember who was carrying the other one. The pilot landed about 50 meters from us and we took off for him. It was about this time that all hell broke loose as the gooks tried to down the chopper. The amount of fire was tremendous. It was then that they fired RPG’s at the chopper, impacting between the bird and us. This was when 4 of us were wounded with shrapnel. None of us were wounded seriously. The fire was so heavy that all of a sudden we heard the engines change pitch and the 46 pulled up and away. We were within 20 meters of the damned thing when this happened. After we were safely out we talked about our feelings when we saw our savior take off. The general consensus was that we all accepted our death at that point. There we were standing out in the middle of a rice paddy with an estimated company of NVA shooting us up. I remember thinking that I was not going to be killed with out taking some of them with me. The scene was total chaos. We were standing in the middle of the paddy screaming obscenities at the NVA, laughing hysterically and having a great old’ time firing our weapons for all we were worth. I remember Cuenca standing to my left and almost walking into my fire. He turned and looked at me with a stupid grin on his face as my rounds were inches from him. I placed my 16 on the NVA’s head, put it on auto and put an entire magazine into him. The muzzle flash lit up the area and I can still see the red and gray of his brain splattering and blowing into the air. Later I had to throw my trousers away as I was totally splattered with blood and pieces of brain. I regret today, that I wasted him, but at the time it seemed appropriate.

As this was going on, and I’m sure it wasn’t the hours that it seemed, the two gunships swung into position and opened fire on the tree line. They were hanging about 50’ off the deck, not moving, firing everything they had. The 46 rolled in behind them and set down close to us once more. We ran to the bird and the crewmembers jumped off and helped pull us aboard. We started firing our weapons out the windows and I swear the gooks were trying to come across the paddy even with the fire from the gunships. They were definitely pissed and wanted our asses. As our chopper pulled up, it had to fly over the tree line. The muzzle flashes were unreal and seemed like there were thousands firing at us. I know that is not true, but sure seemed that way.

We went to the Danang Naval Hospital and dropped off our last prisoner. We then went to Camp Reasoned and were debriefed. We captured two rucks that the NVA were carrying that were full of maps of the Danang area showing all the military units and their call signs. The amount of Intel carried by those officers was extraordinary and also scary. They had overlays of all the unit positions, call signs, bunkers, machine gun towers. In February 69, the Danang area and specifically the air base were hit by sappers and numerous planes and tank farms were destroyed. This was also the same night that Division headquarters and 11th Engineers were overrun. I was assigned to 1st Med at that time and responded to the Engineers to extract the wounded. It was our opinion that the Intel we captured was linked to this offensive.

After the debriefing, us 4 wounded were taken to 1st Med for treatment of our wounds. I and one other were kept for two days due to infections.

Andy Androes, radioman of Mayfly/Vesper Bells had the original roster of that patrol. He would make a sheet with their names, service numbers, weapon numbers, etc. so that if he had to report any WIA, KIA, lost weapons, he would have all the pertinent info. If you recall, Andy was the fellow with me in Philadelphia. I will add the sheets of his notes for this patrol and the patrol he was on that was operating with John’s team when John was killed. There is a 3rd patrol sheet showing a patrol into the Garden of Eden also dated 1/1/69. Vesper Bells was originally slated for this patrol and was totally made up of Vesper Bells Marines. This patrol was cancelled and the new patrol for Dodge City was put together, again as I previously mentioned with more seasoned troops. You will notice that on the cancelled sheet my name does not appear. I had already received my orders transferring me to 1st Med. When they changed the patrol to Dodge City I volunteered to go with it because no other corpsmen were available to go out with them. I wasn’t going to have my team in Dodge City without medical help. The missing name was L/cpl Molina. Also, if you look again at the patrol notes and do the math, it doesn’t add up. Mann lists one POW, which we had, and two KIA. These were the two KIA from the 2nd encounter. If we killed one of the dinks from the first encounter, Mann would have claimed 3 confirmed.

Joe, I hope this meets your needs. I did not embellish anything intentionally this is how I remembered it. I look forward to hearing the final outcome of this journey and hope that you can finally reach some peace as to John’s record. He was a good Marine I would and did trust him with my life.

Semper Fi and Pax, Dave

 

Story #2

 

DaNang Rocket Attack

 

By Will Aalbertsberg

1^st Force 66/68

 

I was wondering if your book is finished and if not may have a short story you could use. I don't remember all involved but it happened on 7-18-67 I believe. Simple guard duty on the hill overlooking Reasoned that you drove to by going around the PX and then up. I believe it was the first use of 122mm rockets in the Da Nang area and they hit the Air Force base. At first we thought it was two jets flying over low and crashed and we called it in. More rockets followed right after the NVA saw it was a hit. This all took place after midnight and the camp was woke up and patrols ready to be sent out. We marked the launch site and snoopy was called in and gave them hell. At sun up the patrols found many more rockets in the lake next to where they were fired from. I believe the Air Force lost 38 men in the attack. It just shows that in a war zone even simple base guard duty is important to the protection of our troops and not to be taken lightly. It was right after the rocket attack that they decided to build a tower up on the mountain for better observation and keep us safe from a tiger that liked to surprise us at times.

Sgt. William Aalbertsberg 1st Force 9/66-7/68

 

 

Story #3

 

The Year 1968

 

By John Bowcock

1^st Force 1968

 

The year was 1968 and as a nineteen-year-old Marine in Vietnam, I encountered many things that are still fresh in my mind. It was as if they happened yesterday. The first trip firm Da Nang to Phu Bai, then the fight in Hue City, and the many first-hand accounts of bravery by other Marines. It was January and I had just arrived “in-country”. My first stop was Da Nang, where I was assigned to First Force Recon and convoyed to Phu Bai. We were ambushed continually along the way to Phu Bai, but took no casualties. Upon arriving in Phu Bai, Force Recon was assigned to Task Force XRAY. The job was implanting electronic sensors to detect the enemy. These electronic devices would also broadcast information as far as fifty miles through relays. While doing this they encountered contact with the enemy on our patrols near Hue City in the era just prior to the 1968 Tet. These reports were generally ignored and caused no excitement to the Big Brass. Then one day we convoyed to Coa beach so that the teams could conduct rubber boat training. On the way to the beach in are two-truck convoy we encountered a roadblock, and were ambushed, then radioed that we were in enemy contact. It was difficult to believe that we were right in Hue City itself, and that this was happening to us. We had regarded Hue as Libertyville. We were all fighting for our lives then the fighting stopped. After that day in Hue City, things continued much the same. I went on recon missions with eight Marines and one helluva platoon sergeant and made contact with The VC almost every time we drove highway 1 from Phu Bai to the Lanco Bridge. During the next several months, I witnessed many numerous acts of bravery. From what I can remember, some of the honors earned were one Navy Cross, Ten Silver Stars, twenty-four Bronze Stars, and numerous other awards of valor. This also told me of the caliber of men that I served with. Our Unit strength was only one hundred twenty-five men, and we had sixty men from Company “C”, First Force Recon Battalion, but we were a force to be reckoned with. In looking back at that year, there are still stories to be told or written about. But, what I will always remember is my trip from Da Nang to Phu Bai, the fighting in Hue City, and my fellow Marines and their many individual acts of bravery and aggressive fighting spirit. Is it really possible that all of these things happened in the short span of one year? Could this be only 1968? One would have had to be there and experience firsthand in order to understand how long one year can really be.

 

                                     

 

 

 

 

Story #4

 

Purple Heart #2

 

By Leonel Perez

Charlie Company 66/67

 

This was to be a short patrol, just two days. My team mostly took care of the rear, but on this day my team was put up front as point. The idea of running point didn’t thrill me one bit. I had one man up front running point and I was close behind him with my map and compass keeping us on course. We were going up a small hill, a heavy grass area, about 5 to 6 feet high. I was checking out our course when my pointman stopped, got down and signal me up. I stopped the rest of the patrol and worked my way up to my point man to see what was up. He said that he kept seeing something in the grass that would shine at times when the sun would hit it just so, but wasn’t sure yet of what it was. I moved just passed him to take a look, when I saw, what looked like a trip wire running thru the grass. All that came to my mind was “Oh Shit, lets get our Asses out of here!” I told him that we were going to work our way back the same way we came in, to follow me. I stepped back passed him to lead the way out, and “Bang” I stepped on the boobie trap. When it blew all I remember was a loud dull explosion and the smell of black power and smoke. I felt vary light and the sky was spinning. I guess that I was in the air only a few seconds, but it seemed like forever. Then I hit the ground hard and rolled down the hill towards a tree line and finally came to a stop. Thru all of this I still didn’t feel any pain. I just lay there on my back with most of the wind knock out of me. Still no real pain, but I knew I was hit, and hurt bad, but how bad I didn’t know yet. I tried to move, but couldn’t move my legs. I tried like hell to get myself up, when I finally managed to sit up. That’s when I think I really lost it. I still remember seeing from my knees down all red with blood, my right foot just split open and a large hole in my left leg. I could hear someone screaming, than I realized it was “me.” I guess that was when panic and shock hit me. I finally got some kind of control of myself. What came to mind next was getting the hell out of here. Then I hear movement around me, and that’s when I really got scare. I started looking around and reaching for my weapon. “No weapon” then I started to panic again. All I could think of was that I’m not going to let those Mothers get a hold of me, and drag my ass off and cut me all up, no way in hell!! I pulled a frag from my belt and started to pull the pin as I held it against my chest. If those “Mother’s” came out to get me I was taking them all to “hell” with me. As I lay there, scare as hell, ready to meet my maker, I said my good-byes to my parents and my brother. Just than, like a whisper from heaven I heard my name being called out, very softly. I don’t know as of this day that came out to get me, but “bless” him who ever he was. He call my name again, I tried to look back, but I couldn’t see who it was, he just said give me the frag, took it away from me, then he grabbed me by the back of my pack and dragged me up the hill, where I saw Lt. King and the corpsman. I could hear the radioman calling for a medivac chopper. The pain, the fear all started to really set in; all I wanted to do was go “home”. I still remember the corpsman, telling me, as he was getting ready to give me a morphine shot that I was going to feel a small prick from the needle. All that came to mind was “f¼k the needle, give me the shot, it’s really starting to hurt like hell! Lt. King stood with me until the chopper came. Off and on with the morphine working on me someone kept asking me, what happen to my point man? I remember seeing him as they found him and brought him in with large bloody holes in both his legs. Then I would fade off and wake back up again. If I remember right I believe that I told the Lt. that I could hear the choppers coming, he said that they weren’t hear yet. And then long and behold there they were, like “Angles” coming from heaven! Then I thought I heard the radioman talking with the choppers that they might have to bring me up on a cable. I remember asking Lt. King to “please” make the chopper land. “Lt. King, you’re alright”, he had the chopper land! Then I remember being picked up and put into a chopper. The gunner looked at me with an “Oh shit” look on his face. The next thing I know I’m in a field hospital with the doctors getting me ready for surgery. They gave me a spinal, then they lay me my on my back. They put this white sheet in front of me, so I couldn’t see my legs. Then this one doctor looked at me and said, “Hey Marine, how are you doing, do you know what happens when you step on these things?” I just looked at him, and I knew for sure that I had lost both my legs. He said that my left leg was going to be “OK” but I did loose my right foot, but you will walk again on your own. Believe it or not, I feared the worst; these were words that put my world back together again. I just said “Thank You” They put the gas mask over my face; I closed my eyes and went into a long peaceful sleep. I made it; I was going “Home”

Cpl. Leonel R. Perez 1st Recon Charlie Co

 

 

Story #5

 

 

MASTER GUNNERY SERGEANT LENNIE P. MILLER, USMC

 

By Leonel Miller

Delta / Echo Company 67/68

 

When asked to write about my career as a Reconnaissance Marine, I contemplated what it was that I wanted to tell. There are so many fond memories and equally as many stories that can be told about that time in my life. I hold dear to me, not only the experience of being a Recon Marine, but with those with whom I had the pleasure to observe and to serve side by side with. But with all stories, there must be a beginning and an end. For the purpose of this writing, I will begin where it all started. Camp Pendleton, California!

I was in Infantry Training School and we were all called to the parade deck to listen to a representative from Reconnaissance School. He was there to locate volunteers for these so-called elite Marine Corps Special Force. I say so-called because we had heard very little about Recon back then. We knew there was such a unit but had very little understanding of what their mission was and how they performed it.

SSgt Robert E. Pinkard was the representative who gave us the presentation. Pinkard had a voice of sand and you had to listen carefully to hear him. He stood impeccably dressed in his heavily starched utilities and began with a 15-minute dissertation on what reconnaissance was and how they worked. I could not help thinking that this sounds like a tough bunch of guys with difficult missions. We learned that Reconnaissance Marines worked behind enemy lines in small teams. We also were told that they went to scuba school and even jump out of perfectly good airplanes. Pinkard told us that many of their missions were covert and that they were the eyes and the ears of the infantry. I found all this interesting but had no desire to do anything other than be an Infantry Marine. The more he said, the less interested I became. My desire to be an Infantry Marine was fueled by the death of my childhood friend, Reavis Montrey, who was killed on November 1, 1965.

Reavis was not a school buddy but a friend who I played baseball against all my life. Reavis was destined to be a Hall of Fame pitcher in the Major Leagues. His record for as long as I can recall was remarkable. He pitched more no-hitters than any kid in St. Louis during his high school years. A fierce competitor all of his life, it made sense that he would join the toughest military organization. It didn’t make sense that he gave up a full-ride scholarship at Missouri University to trade a baseball for a rifle.

When the message of Reavis’ death arrived, I was devastated. I kept thinking, what a waste of talent and human life. After his death, I began to research heavily on Vietnam. I became obsessed with knowing all that I could. I wanted to know all I could about how a guy with so much ability could allow himself to get into such a position to cost him his life and career.

The more that I learned about Vietnam, the more I wanted to go. I wanted very badly to walk in the footsteps of Reavis. The decision came easily as my entire family had once served in the Marines. My Great Grandfather, Grandfather, Uncle’s on both sides and cousin all served as Marines. I had no choice. I would have easily been banished to a life of exile had I enlisted into another branch. In June 1966, I walked into the Marine Corps Recruiting Office and enlisted as an Infantry Marine. I left for boot camp in September of that same year. This was my first step to being an Infantry Marine and going to Vietnam. So here I was standing listening to so guy talking about how being something I never wanted to be in the first place.

As Staff Sergeant Pinkard gave us his pitch, my good friend, Harry Governick came unglued with envy of this Recon thing. Every minute or two Harry would nudge me and say, “Hey Lennie, this shit sounds great. Let’s volunteer!” I would simply reply with a look at Harry, with eyes that could kill. I kept telling him to shut up and let’s just be satisfied with being infantry Marines. But no, that was not good enough for Harry. He had to have more. Harry’s taunting kept up and I kept ignoring his silliness. Eventually, Pinkard was finished with his sales pitch and it was time to answer questions from the Battalion standing there listening. It appeared that the enthusiasm was declining with every question that was being asked. This shit seemed dangerous and not many guys were willing to push the envelope. Except for Harry, that is. Harry’s pursuit of this challenge was not to be denied! Harry and I had met at the Processing Station in St. Louis and signed up on the buddy program. I knew that if Harry was going to do this, he was going to drag me along!!

Finally, Pinkard was at the point where he was having those interested fall in where he outlined an imaginary circle. One, then two, then five and finally he had about 20 Marines willing to take the plunge. This was not enough and so he continued to answer questions. Harry, now in a fever pitch, said he was going with or without me. At that moment, a Marine asks Pinkard what the life expectancy was for a Recon Marine in a “hot landing zone.” Pinkard replied, “The life expectancy for a Recon Marine in a hot landing zone is about 2 minutes and 36 seconds,” he said laughingly. A split second prior to that, I agreed with Harry that we would go together. I made the first step and Harry was behind me to my left. When I heard the question and the answer, I was no more than a few steps from my original spot. I stopped like I had been shot and absolutely froze in stride. I wanted to retreat gracefully and so I turned to find Harry still in place. Staff Sergeant Pinkard had seen my move towards the circle and flagged me to turn back around and go to the circle. I told him that I had changed my mind and he would not allow me the retreat I desperately wanted. Harry was locked in his position and a bulldozer would not have moved him at that moment. So Harry stayed in the grunts and I was forcibly pulled to Recon School at Camp Horno. I didn’t talk to Harry again for 34 years! By the way, Harry spent 3 months in country and was wounded, medically discharged and became an actor in Hollywood.

I finally arrived in Danang, Vietnam in March of 1967 after enduring the most physical challenge of my life in Recon School. By this time, I was well indoctrinated to the new direction and was ready to take up whatever missions the Marine Corps assigned me. I was assigned to “Bravo Company”, commanded by the infamous Capt King Dixon. Fortunately, for me, I was assigned to the best of the best, “Dunn’s Raiders.” Dunns Raider’s was led by then Capt. John Dunn, a former enlisted Marine who had won a battlefield commission. Under his direction, was Sgt Ray Taylor, who was to be my first patrol leader and I was his new M-60 Machine Gunner. In retrospect, I could not have had any better.

Taylor was from New Jersey and had that Jersey accent. His reputation was renowned as a great patrol leader. Ray made me feel at home with my new surroundings and introduced me to the rest of the team, “Bull Rush.” My first impression was that they were a team of rag-tags. One of the first I met was a Marine named Willard Smith. Willard appeared half Chinese and half American. When I met Willard, he was sitting atop a cot crouched like a Vietnamese, smoking a cigarette and holding it in the most awkward manner I had ever seen. He spoke methodical and had extraordinary vocabulary. I could tell he was well educated. The next guy I met was like a big teddy bear. His name David Gugich another man who seemed very well educated and more mature than most. David was always the guy who spoke ethics and talked a lot about the real life issues. The man who made perhaps the greatest impact on me was from New York. Tony Velez was my mentor! In of the first conversations with him he told me in no uncertain term, stick with him, do what he said and I would not only survive, but be as good as they get. Over the next three month, I stuck to Tony like super glue, did what he said and I survived. Whether I lived up to his expectations in the bush, I will never know. I tried to find Tony many years later and couldn’t locate him. In 1996 I found Ray Taylor and discovered that Tony had killed himself after a long on the job injury as a New York policeman. I never got the chance to say “thanks.”

My time with “Bull Rush” was interrupted after three months when the Battalion was reorganized and many were sent to “Delta” company to fill their ranks. I was one of those to go. I was now considered a Veteran of the bush and so they felt my service would be better served as a machine gunner there. Sgt Taylor and his band of warriors were the best I had ever served with. His leadership and those in the team carried me along way. In many ways, when I became a patrol leader, I fashioned myself after Taylor’s leadership style.

In July 1967, I was assigned to Delta Company, 3rd Platoon (Antifreeze and Melody Time) as their machine gunner. I ended up walking point early on and then back to the gun. I really enjoyed the machine gun. Maybe it was a security issue having a couple thousand rounds of ammo to fight with. I must admit it really got heavy at times!

When I got to “Delta 3”, I was the vet and most of the new blood looked up at me with adoration. Gunnery Sergeant Everett Cannon was the patrol leader. Gunny was a typical country fellow but had tremendous respect for the enemy. He was a careful man and one who enjoyed his men. Our patrols were always well rehearsed to the point we all knew exactly what, when, where and how before we stepped on a chopper. Cannon did not like making contact with Charlie. We were always a team that avoided contact rather than exploit it. Once we were moving up a hill and behind us was a long valley where there was a trail. Our point man observed movement and the Gunny moved us quickly up the slope of the hill, where he stopped us and had us lay flat on our backs while the VC move past us. Originally we thought that it was only about 5-10 VC but as it turned out it was about 75. We laid on the side of the hill with trees between up our crotch so we would not move. It took almost a half hour for them to get by us before we could move. Easily, the Gunny could have engaged the enemy and we probably could have beaten them. But the Gunny decided to let them go and called fixed wing aircraft and artillery in on them. In the end, we killed about 40 of the VC and the others took off to the winds, totally disorganized. The VC never did know where the team was!

My tenure with Delta was a good one. I met many wonderful men and unquestionably some of the greatest warriors in our history. Many of them decorated for their valorous deeds in combat. Names like, Lt. Andy Finlayson, Lt. Peter Badger, Lt. Lenyar Little, Lt. Bill McClusky, Lt. Paul Young and Capt. J.P. Cahill. Each of these men was some of the finest in the battalion. I also had the privilege of serving with Eli Smith, Donald Pack, Danny Thompson (the best point man ever), Bob Hooks, Joe Clark, Pappy, Dan Landry, Bill Smallwood, Bill Rash, John Tepper, John Willis, “Doc” Stomp (best Corpsman ever), Porter, Joshua Israel Butler, Hugh Leighton Turk III, Bob Silvia (shortround), Heads, Glen Ray Hicks, Melvin Riley, Lizinski, Murdoch, Mike Hvranek, Ervin Lovell, Cobb, Faulkner, Phillips, Mike Leonard, Tony Hutchins, Scott Smith, and Skip Bachman (best radio man ever). I cannot recall one patrol where I felt in any danger with these guys around me. I trusted them unconditionally. I knew in my heart that we would all fight to the bitter end if the situation arose.

One of my most vivid memories was when we were on an area reconnaissance during the monsoon season. It rained miserably day and night for days. We were all soaked to the bone, with leeches doing all they could to find a spot anywhere on our bodies. It rained so hard, we could not use a match to burn them off and we had no lighter fluid to put on them. Miserable may be understating the condition! As we set in at night, it continued to rain and so we picked a partner to be with. I picked Joshua Butler, a burly black guy from New Jersey. Josh was our radio operator and he and I put our two shelter halves together and our wet poncho’s inside of the shelter halves. Then we climbed in together like lovers and literally hugged to keep warm. I kept telling him how bad he stunk and he kept worrying about my sexual orientation! I promise I never even tried to kiss him!! Besides, I was married and had absolutely no interest in an interracial relationship. Josh became one of my closest friends on and off the field of battle. I have not seen Josh in all this time since Vietnam. I hope someday we can get together and share some laughs from yesterday.

Perhaps one of the funniest times involved Skip Bachman another of the radio operators. We were on an area reconnaissance mission to blow a small bridge that was being used for a supply route. On the way to the objective, a VC force, much larger than our own, hit us. Instead of staying in a fight, we made contact briefly and began running to where we had safe cover, concealment and the ability to establish a good fight. The terrain did not provide a lot of what we needed, so we kept hitting and running, calling in fixed wing and gun-ships to help deter the VC from aggressing. All that we did was not working. The VC was relentless and so Gunny Cannon decided to get us the hell out of there. We had already been compromised and so the mission was a dead issue. The Gunny called for 46’s to come and get us out but we had to find a landing zone for the choppers. This was when I kept thinking back to Infantry Training School and why Harry froze on me. I kept thinking, “2minutes and 36 seconds!” Shit, this is not the way I am going to die! I refuse to die this way.

We finally located a suitable landing zone and the fixed wing and gun-ships were doing their best to keeping the VC off of us. All of the patrol was engaged with the VC and still trying to manage to get to the LZ. The choppers had begun making their way in under extraordinary conditions and the Marines in the perimeter began loading one at a time, all the while firing. Skip Bachman had his radio in one hand and his M-16 in the other. Skip was burning it up and jumped into the chopper with me right behind him. Once we got aboard the choppers, we discovered that the windows had not been broken out. Shit, it was a brand new CH46! Who in the hell sent us a new chopper and especially did not have the insight to take out the windows. Especially in a combat zone!

Once on the choppers, we busted out the windows and began returning fire to the hostile forces that were all over us. The chopper lifted off as the gun-ships powdered the enemy and we were all firing through the portholes of the chopper. As we flew out of range, Bachman turned towards me and looked at me with amazement. In one move he reached up to his war-belt and pulled out his K-Bar and started cutting away my tiger striped utility pants. I reached down to move his hand and screamed at him to stop cutting my pant leg. He just pushed me away and said I had been shot because I was bleeding through my trousers. I kept screaming at him not to worry about it and stop cutting my trousers. Everything I did, he fought until he had my tiger striped trousers totally cut from my leg. Once the pant was cut away, Bachman finally saw that I had not been shot but fell getting on the chopper and had a bad cut from the threshold of the chopper door! I was pissed off that he had just cut away and ruined a brand new pair of light nylon tiger striped utilities. Skip promised to buy me another pair. He never did! Skip and I got together in 1989 on his birthday for the first time since Vietnam. We got drunk and laughed all night long! We are still friends and talk quite often.

The guys I met in Delta were truly all team players. Everyone wanted to participate in our combat missions. The administrative clerks in the office and supply guys as well. One of the guys who worked in the supply shack was Glen Ray Hicks. Glen was from Oklahoma. Glen was married and wanted to get out on patrol just once. He bugged me all the time about doing something besides being a supply chief. I kept telling him that he needed to do what he was doing and not worry about what anyone would think of his once he got back to the states. This wasn’t good enough for Glen though. He worked his way onto a patrol and was later killed. I was called to identify his body along with John Rizzo!

In the late fall of 1967, I was once again transferred to another company. This time to the new and reorganized “Echo” Company The necessity for recon’s services, seem to escalate and so we had to form another company. A goodly number of us were sent back to Okinawa to under-go jump school as the Corps was planning to execute some night jumps for it missions. This time I was there to help form the company and worked in the rear for a time and in the communication shack. I was no longer going out on area reconnaissance patrols and my duties were isolated to stationary observation posts. On these patrols we would take 12-15 Marines to a stationary point on a hill and do surveillance for current or future infantry operations. I enjoyed the stationary OP but did not like being a sitting target for 7 days and 6 nights. We were generally well equipped with beans and bullets in the event of a major uprising where we had to fight to defend the hill. It was like being in the Alamo without walls!

Echo Company was led by, Capt. Pete Badger. The Sergeant Major was Maurice Jacques. Jacques was a tough Marines Marine. Tattoos up and down his upper extremity and looked like the kind of guy you would not want to meet in a bar. Hard to the core but he loved his Marines with every ounce of his Marine Corps blood. As it turned out, there was not a Recon Marine in his company that would give his life for Jacques. Anytime we had casualties, you may have well placed a dagger into his heart. He took it bad when we lost a Marine.

The reorganization of Echo Company again robbed the other companies of their talent. But when they did that, arguably they put together one of the finest companies in recon. Echo truly had the best of the best, in not only the Platoon Commanders and Patrol leaders, the most seasoned radio operators, machine gunners and point men as well. Echo Company was prepared to for any mission that was assigned to them.

Staff Sergeant Bill Rash was one of the patrol leaders who lost his life fighting for his country. I knew Bill very well and thought of him as a leader and overall good person. He was not the kind of guy who made notice of his talent. He was the “quiet man” of the Company. In retrospect he reminded me of the Gary Cooper type.

Bill had been scheduled to take a team out to “flip flop” with my team. The mission was southwest of the An Hoa valley. Bill and I spoke about the patrol and felt that it was a good mission and one that had the ability to present some excitement. The mission was to provide intelligence on enemy movement on both sides of our position. There were two long and wide valleys that seemed to fork together. Heavy cover and mountainous terrain outlined the valleys. The hill we were to occupy was where the valley’s separated like a fork so the view was very open. The hill also presented a problem we spoke about and that was the fact that we were very much exposed. Except to the rear of our position where the terrain climbed more than 100 feet in elevation and was all dense forest/jungle. This we felt was an easy route for the VC to take in getting to the hill. Both of us however, felt that we could defend the hill should that occur.

That same evening we both went to the outdoor theatre for a re-run of a movie. I told Bill that I had received my mission order and was leaving the day after tomorrow. We had small talk for a few minutes, settled into the movie and met up later at the club for a hot Ballantines Beer. In between the time the movie was over and I went to the club, a young PFC approached me from H&S Company named Scott Gary Smith. PFC Smith was a supply clerk with H&S Battalion. He walked up to me and asked if I was Sgt Miller from St. Louis? I told him that I was from St. Louis and he asked me what school I graduated from. I replied, “Berkeley High School.” He looked at with amazement and said that he too graduated from Berkeley in 1966. Needless to say, I was taken aback that 15,000 miles from home, I run into a guy who graduated from the same high school.

Scott had told me that he had arrived a short time before and was the supply clerk for H&S he was not happy that he was in supply and wanted to go out on a patrol with me so he could feel like he had done something besides dish out bean and bullets. He really had a burning desire to serve in the field. By this time, I had run 30 plus patrols and had a fairly good reputation and so coming from the same neighborhood, Smith felt that I would see his point of view and let him go along. I thought for a minute or two and then told him that I would not entertain his request. I explained that if I was to take him with me and we got into a serious firefight and he were to get killed; I would have to go home with that on my conscience. I felt strongly that it was not in his or my best interest no matter how much he wanted to serve. I did offer him an alternative in that I was on my way to the club to meet SSgt Bill Rash who was going on a stationary observation post and was flip flopping with my team. PFC Smith came with me to the club and we got together with Bill Rash. Always the nice guy, Bill offered him a spot on his team. PC Smith was like a kid with a new toy. He was as happy as they get to have the chance to go on a patrol and thanked me every time he saw me for the next day and a half!

Our call sign was “Scandinavia.” The team was 12 men strong and we headed for the objective where we were to remain for 7 days to provide intelligence for the grunts that were soon going to be running an operation.

Our time on the hill was not without incident. On the outer edge of the valley was about an 80-acre clump of jungle mass with heavy cover. In the late evening we sighted what we believed was a tank that had come from out of the tree line and made a couple turns (for no apparent reason) and returned to inside the cover. We had a BC scope and kept monitoring the area where the tank emerged to the edge of the tree line and then back again. I called in to our base “Grim Reaper” and gave them the information we had had on the possibility of the tank. Grim Reaper’s reply was not what we had expected. They said we were “nuts” and no intelligence supported the claim of the VC having tanks in the area. I got the feeling they thought we were smoking dope! None of us were! Grim Reaper kept telling us that we were seeing a Water Buffalo but I know what we were seeing even into the night the tank moved in and out as though it knew we knew it was there and were taunting us.

The next morning we called Grim Reaper to again report the sighting and wanted fixed wing to come in and do their thing. Grim Reaper finally conceded that something may be there and so they sent out fixed wing, which we directed and then we followed that up with artillery that virtually leveled everything in its path. Needless to say, from our vantage point, we could not see anything that resembled a tank or even a water buffalo. It just didn’t make sense!

The sighting was on the second day of the mission. We were to be there for 7 days but the monsoon season was preventing us from getting off the hill. Each time the choppers would come out, the heavy fog would preclude them from getting in to the Landing Zone. Even if we would get a small hole in the clouds and fog, it would close up as fast as it came. Our food and water supply was limited and so getting off the hill started to be a concern on the 9th day. We ended up being there for 12 days! It got to the point that we were eating anything we could find: old c-rations that were molded and some bugs was all we had. We were out of smokes and so that really mad us cranky.

By the time we were taken off the hill we had been probed by the VC two or three times. It seemed like half hearted attempts to just keep us on our toes. We figured that either they did not have enough troops to mount a serious assault or they were just trying to get us to move off the hill and begin running. Neither was going to happen! If there was to be a fight, we were ready, willing and able. When the choppers came in to pick us up and drop off Staff Sergeant Rash and his crew, there was not enough time to discuss anything. The intelligence reports were enough to alert Bill that we had a sighting and that we were probed. I was hopeful that he would be on his toes. As the crews changed I met Bill and simply shook his hand and gave him the thumbs up. I saw Scott Smith, the young PFC who I hooked up on the patrol. He was grinning from ear to ear. The two crews exchanged position and we went on back to the dry warm area in the rear where we ate everything we could find. It was good to be back! That evening, we all settled in to read and to write letters back home. About 10:30 p.m. a runner from the communication shack ran into the hooch to tell us that Rash’s crew had just been hit by a large number of VC. Five hours earlier we had left the same battleground and we all looked at each other with enormous concern. I ran to the com shack to hear what was going on and met there the Battalion Commander, Company Commander and Sergeant Major Jacques. Bill Smallwood and I were standing there listening to the fight as it was going on. The Battalion Commander looked at me and asked me what the terrain looked like and I drew him a diagram of the hill and where I thought the attack was coming from. I tried hard in my mind to visualize what was going on there. In the back of my mind was the thought of PFC Smith, who I had sent out with Bill Rash. We monitored the communications for nearly two hours glued to the radio communications. The ensuing battle seemed to be getting worse and not better. Obviously the VC had a sizable force and had done well in their own battle planning well in advance before launching the attack sandbag bunkers were the only cover on the hill and so I knew that a fight like this one did not sound good especially when you are outnumbered 4-1. By the time 0100 rolled around, the team was taking a beating. Several were wounded and things looked liked they were going to be overrun. The message traffic was slow to come in and the radio operator tried hard to keep us informed as to who was wounded and who was dead. Finally the message had come in that PFC Smith was a fatality. I was so busy talking on the radio that I could not display any emotion. I think my heart sunk to my feet when his name was decoded. Then as if Smith death wasn’t enough, it came in that Bill Rash had been killed. My disappointment turned to anger then to rage. Sergeant Major Jacques, face burnt red, picked up a chair a flung it across the room and broke it in pieces. “We have to get out there now. We have to get a reactionary force ready to go,” the Sergeant Major said. The Battalion CO concurred and Jacques left to assemble the reactionary force for Echo Company. At 0430, we were all on the launching pad waiting to go. Everyone wanted to get on the reactionary force. People from every company wanted terribly to be included. We all wanted to get some ass! The choppers arrived and we were off to the hill. We all knew what to anticipate. The hill had been overrun and just how many dead or wounded, we had no idea. The communications had been cut off for the most part! The Gun ships and the 46’s with the reactionary force arrived to the hill as the daylight hours approached. As we touched down, we made our exit and laid down a perimeter of security while Corpsman attended to the wounded and we began a survey of the damage. The VC had left the hill as though they simply rolled over the Marines position, killing and wounding everything in their path. Sgt John Tepper was the patrol leader with Rash dead. Like everything else on the hill, he was a mess. You could see the anguish in his face and just how exhausted he was. In one of the bunkers was PFC Smith, his body burned with C-4. PFC Henry was shot up badly and later had part of his leg removed. Sgt. Kiester was missing from the hill and was found hiding of the hillside in some bushes and Rash laid dead from a piece of metal from an exploding grenade that was the size of a pin hole in his heart. Bill Rash was trying to put the American Flag up when he was hit. They had position the flag and evidently fell during the fight. This fight was tough for all of us. It was tough on my team because just hours before we had left that same hill. It was tough because we lost some close friends and fellow Marines. It was tough for me because I had sent a young man who had no reason to go to the field other than for the honor of going! Echo Company was also a proving ground for young Lieutenants. My team “Scandinavia” was scheduled for another observation post on Hill 425. The mission was to do like all other OP’s and observe any enemy movement. The hill we were atop was accessible from 3 sides only. One side was a sheer cliff for nearly 300 feet to a valley. To the west, opposite of the cliff, was a long finger that went to the high ground. The north and the south were gradual slopes that led to the valley below. On this patrol, I had to break in a new Lt. Named Lenyar Little. He was southern fellow who looked studious, worn the dark birth control glasses and had the appearance of a professor more than that of a Marine. Our mission on 425 was Lt. Little’s birthday. I could tell he was frightened to be heading on his first patrol. I was the patrol leader and he was my shadow. That is how we broke in the new guys, letting them go out with another seasoned Officer or enlisted patrol leader. On the hill, we had 10 Marines and all combat worthy vets except for Lt. Little. While there, we ended up observing the VC running arms and ammunition from the south to the north on a major travel route. They were smart because they had women and children among them for cover. This presented problems for us, as we could not call artillery in on them or fixed wing. There was absolutely nothing we could do except let them move their goods without interruption. Then we got the idea to go ahead and call in artillery and walk it in on them, hoping that when the rounds began to fall, that the VC would head one way and the civilians would run into a separate direction to get away from the hostile fire. It was a decision made purely on speculation! I called the artillery battery, “Lung Point Kilo” to do the shooting. We started the artillery rounds away from the VC and civilians at some 200 meters and started walking them in one at a time. We did not want to fire for effect until we knew for certain that the VC and civilians would separate. As the rounds grew closer, the hunch paid off and the civilians did all they could to separate themselves from the VC? We fired for effect and made an idea turn into a successful shoot. Over the next several days we played the same game day in and day out. They never seem to get the hint that we were not going after the civilians. In the seven days, we killed more than 125 VC. However, what we did was piss them off and when they discovered where we were, they came after us with all they could muster. Just at dark, the VC began penetrating our perimeter with grenades and then small arms fire. We had no idea that they were this close. We did observe a small patrol coming in from the southwest but felt they were a reconnaissance team sent to see how many men we had and the hill and what firepower we had. We were all on alert because of the situation and so the VC made no surprise on our position. As time went on into the evening, the confrontation escalated into a full-blown assault by the VC. We estimated some 15 VC making their best effort to get on top of us. Our position was well fortified though with sandbag bunkers and well made fighting holes so we felt that it would take an assault of far more than 15 VC to pull us from our fighting positions. The assault on our hill carried on for several hours in what I felt was more probing than an all out push to pull us from our fighting holes. The VC seemed to be disorganized at time, not knowing what kind of firepower to throw at us I had called for gun-ships and had “Puff the Magic Dragon” to help deter any heavy onslaught from the VC. It seemed to keep them off of us for a time but then they gave us all they had. I had Puff dropping its guns to within 15 meters of our position. The gun-ships were giving it their best effort but the attack was beginning to become much more intensified. Then as though somebody called a cease fire, the VC halted their attack on us. Our thoughts were that the VC had been whipped to submission but we knew better. There seem to be total calm. Our Corpsman Doc Peters, scurried about the hill. Many times in total disregard for his safety, patching up, to the best of his ability, those who were wounded. I felt the need to be extracted as soon as possible, given that we had been compromised, so I called into Grim Reaper for choppers to come and take us from the hill. Lt. Little seemed delighted that we were going to get off the hill and back to our safe little houches. I made my way around the hill taking a survey of the damages and what resources we had left. Everything except the machine gun position was in place. The gunner and three others were wounded including me. The spray of shrapnel had hit me in the lower leg and foot. Of coarse when it happened I thought my leg had been blown off! I didn’t even realize that I had been hit for a minute or two and then I felt the pain. I could see the blood but it was not as bad as I was thinking it was. In other words, I was being a big whiner. The blow was enough to knock me down but no enough to keep me there. Shortly thereafter, we heard a moaning coming from about 20 meters outside the bunker where the machine gun had been set up. It sounded like a wounded VC and it sounded as though he was in bad condition. I sat behind the bunker and listened to his groans for about ten minutes hoping they would end but they didn’t. I decided to take L/Cpl Cobb and we would go out and retrieve the wounded VC. Cobb took the M-49 grenade launcher and I had a shotgun. We cautiously worked our way to the VC. We could hear him very clearly but we did not want him to hear us. We also considered this may be a trap and so we were especially careful. Cobb and I finally got to a point where we could see the wounded VC. He was laying face down and we thought for sure he was hiding a grenade or weapon beneath his body. It was dark so we could not see a lot. All we could see is the VC and no weapons. We stopped for a minute and watched him for perhaps 2 minutes and through hand signals decided that he was not worth risking our safety and more than he already had. We began to track backwards and all of a sudden we heard a “thud” on the ground next to our feet. It was a chi-com grenade. Cobb and I could not move. Our feet were frozen! The grenade did not go off. It was a dud!! Needless to say, we praised the Lord for days after that. I bet it took a week for our eyes to get back to their normal size! Suddenly the VC started another attack. This time they were to the opposite side of the hill and there was no way to defend with artillery because I would have to shoot directly over our heads. Puff and the gun-ships had left because the grunts were taking a beating elsewhere and they had to support them. Fixed wing was sent in for us and so we were limited to artillery and fixed wing. The problem with fixed wing is that they can’t get as close as Puff or gun-ships so I elected to use artillery. As it turned out, we had to shoot in a line from the south to the north, directly over our position. The problem was that if a short round were to hit, it could have taken all of us out. I discussed briefly the situation with the Lt. In fact, I think I told him what we were going to do and he was not a happy man. He ordered me to withhold doing that and wanted us to use small arms fire to repel the VC’s attack! The Lt. recanted his displeasure when we saw that things were escalating to a point where we could easily be over-run. I was not willing to sacrifice our position and was more willing to kill my own guys than to have the VC kill us. I did not want to give them the satisfaction! I called Lunga Point Kilo, our artillery battery for a fire mission. They could not shoot for us because they were already overwhelmed working with the grunts. I kept thinking that this is bull-shit. We are up here on this hill, getting our asses handed to us and they can’t send us gun-ships, Puff and now artillery! Lunga Point Kilo did give me a frequency for another battery that was operated by the Army. Oh well you do what you have to do I thought I called the battery and the were pleased to help us. I gave them the fire mission and ask them to fire one round of WP for range. The round came in and was about 200 meters out from us. I then began to walk the artillery in on top of the attacking VC. I dropped 50 meters at a time until they rounds were within 50 meters of our position. Each time a round came in over our heads, it felt like you could reach up and snag it with a catcher’s mit! The Lt. was livid hunkering down in his fighting hole. He kept saying he was going to get killed on his birthday and by his own people! At times, even in combat, people have to have a sense of humor. The Army battery was doing a great job and the VC were being held but now I wanted to get off this hill while we could all still climb on a chopper. I called for our extraction and was informed once again; they had no choppers available or gun-ships. Now we were really screwed. I called the artillery battery and told them of our situation and that I may need fire for several more hours. They were willing to help us but told me they may be able to get me an Army extraction unit out to get us off the hill. Within a minute or two they gave me a frequency to call and without hesitation, the Army asked my coordinates. They were sending out enough choppers to get us off the hill! Perhaps a half hour went by and I got the call from the Army pilots. They had 5 Huey’s on the way and two gun-ships as their escort service. As they neared the hill, they asked for the situation and I briefed them. I halted the artillery fire and the next thing I knew, we were watching the gun-ships work the VC over. The lead chopper requested smoke and we popped the designated color. The VC were really giving us all they could give us and the Army gun-ships and Marines on the ground were all fighting giving the VC every bit in return. Under heavy fire, the choppers came in one at a time until we were all off the hill. The gun-ships worked like I had never seen any work in the past. These guys put on a display that was absolutely incredible. The pilots were no more than 23-25 years old. In November 1968, my time had come to go home. Twenty-one months of Vietnam was enough. I look back in retrospect and I don’t feel that anything I did was any different than that of any the men with whom I served with. There were many who gave their lives for a common cause and many who gave their lives for their fellow man. There are so many stories of valor and so many more stories of absolutely common men who challenged their limits. Reconnaissance Marines are a special breed of men that few know about. They need not boast of their deeds, nor do they expect recognition and decorations. Recon Marines, as I know them, are as modest about their exploits as they were covert in that time. Recon was a place where the tough were made tougher and a place where the camaraderie is life-long. I miss the closeness of that day. I have not experienced anything like it since and regrettably, will never again. For those of us who returned home, we will all remember those who did not, forever. Their names and their faces are frozen and etched in our memories. Their service and their last devotion of duty should always be that ember that burns forever in our hearts. Over the past 34 years, my service to the Marine Corps has been a special time. I have loved every minute I have had the privilege to wear this uniform. If I am to be judged for my service, I would like to be judged for my life as a Reconnaissance Marine and no more. It was that time in my life that has left its greatest mark. I hope in some way, I have been a sound advocate of the Vietnam Veteran in these years since Vietnam. I carry the belief that for each of us who served in Vietnam, history will judge us fairly. I also believe that when we close our eyes for the final time, it is the highest authority that will judge our service to our country. To that end, I will end my story with a quote from a speech I did in Vincennes, Indiana in July, 1967 before the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Moving Wall “While our fallen comrades have raised to the greater Glory we who are the survivors of Vietnam must march in lock step. We must show the world that our greatest Glory still lies ahead.” MGySgt Lennie Miller, USMC 6/97

Lennie Miller Master Gunnery Sergeant United States Marine Corps Vietnam March 1967-November 1968 1st Recon Bn, Bravo, Delta and Echo Companies

 

 

Story #6

 

Master Gunnery Sergeant Lennie Miller's Retirement Articles

 

A Warriors Thought

 

By Manel Garicia

Delta Company 67/69

 

I don’t know how he got me, I just know he did. I was only eighteen and still a virgin. I didn’t know much about the world but I knew what it felt like to feel, to trust, to love, to be happy and cool to hang out with the “vatos” (guys), to cruise and flirt with the “jainas” (chicks) on a Saturday night. It was heaven.

I knew that no matter how much I tried to ignore him, he would eventually find me. He liked guys my age. He was so smooth that one day I fell right for his old bullshit, “come on over, “ese” (dude), let’s see what kind of “huevos” (balls)¼ you’ve got,” he whispered. “If the wimpy Tony could go and come back, so could,” I uttered to myself.

So I got ready for him, even though deep down inside I hoped that the day would never come. In six months I was in this backyard ready to kick some butt. It was the biggest yard I had ever seen. I knew he was watching me but again I pretended to ignore him. I didn’t have to go far to see the faces of other dudes who had seen him, smelled him and felt him. They looked into my eyes and somehow I knew what they were wondering. Was I, or wasn’t I going to make it. As the days went by, I challenged him “come on¼ do it! Do it now while I’m fresh.” He ignored me. The place was packed. Whites, Okies, Blacks, and more vatos like me. All of us had one taught in mind, “to make it.” That’s when I came to the realization that sooner or later he would find me. And if he did, so what¼I was getting tired of playing his stupid game. Besides by know I was starting to get a little cocky. I was ready.

Every day I would look for him and every day I would hear of someone else getting it. I would see their names and wondered what it like was. I would visualize the pain and sorrow their loves ones would have to go through. And I would hold my breath, because I knew I had to be strong. This went on until one day he let his presence known my zapping our leader in the head. I held back my tears until I could no longer stand to see his wounded body. As I looked away I saw more beds filled with wounded warriors all looking at my direction. I looked towards the sky and wondered if this is the way it had to be. I knew I couldn’t ask for any favors, all I wanted was to be strong; tears began to drip, so I quickly left not wanting anyone to see a Marine cry.

Suddenly there he was! “Please God, I’ll do anything¼don’t let him get me. Let me dream another night.” I got my wish that night but his signal was loud and clear; he would be back for more. I pleaded with God some more, “give me courage.” And then it happened, “this bastard can’t hurt me, and if he did, so what,” I was pumped up! Maybe I’ll go back early, (like my leader) or to heaven¼where all good warriors go. The next day he came bright an early, holy shit! He’s coming right at me. Face to face, my time had come. “I got to give it to him¼no, maybe I can talk my way out,” I murmured to myself. “Pura Madre!” (Bullshit) I’ll give it to him like he would me! Yea, all the way¼more, more, and more” I was winning, it was thick, and it was hot. It felt so good; I closed my eyes and hollered”tenga cabron!” And then it was over. “Where did he go?” I wondered. I knew I had just whipped him. I felt him, I saw him. The BASTARD faked me out. He put someone else in his place. My legs begin to wobble, “stop it dammit! Stay in control, I’m in control, I’m all right,” I kept saying.

I knew after that day that I was nothing to him. I was only one body out of thousands he could have, anytime and anywhere. This was his playground. As each day went by, I went along hoping he would forget my face. But I was ready just in case. I read some more names, and I wondered once again, how? How did he do it?

Finally the time arrived when I could go home. He was letting me go. As I walked to my plane, I saw the new faces that had come to play. They looked at me and I looked away, I didn’t want to know who they were or how they looked. I just went home and wondered how many he would spare. I did my best to screen him from my life, but every now and then, I feel his mighty sword penetrate me hard and slow. He has marked me for life. I know him and he knows me. Semper Fi

Manuel G. Garcia 1st Marine Division, 1st Reconnaissance Battalion Delta Company - Empire State December 27, 1967 to January 20, 1969

Story #7

 

 

5 Minutes ‘Til Forever

 

By Gary Husar

Alpha & Delta Companies 66/67

 

In '63, John Kennedy, lay rotting in his grave. Some say he died, before his time, but he never had to see, how it came to be, that a dollar wouldn't even buy a dime! 5 Minutes 'Til Forever and forever's a long time dead; a man stood with a rifle, and aimed it at the President's head. 5 Minutes 'Til Forever, 5 Minutes more to live; soon people would sadly say: How much more does a man have to give?

At 17, I first wore the Green, of the proud, of a few good men; tho' a man I wasn't yet, then.

On a LST, a thought came to me, of Kennedy, and '63; and proudly I then stood for my flag, praying silently I wouldn't come home in a damn body bag. No one said to me, we weren't fighting for old' Liberty, 'til long after I was there. You'd think someone, somewhere would care, and that Americans are fighting and dying over there!

My one thought was in staying alive . . . and the year was '65. 5 Minutes 'Til Forever, and forever's a long time dead. 5 Minutes from a place called Chu Lai, as young men silently prepare themselves to fight ... and die? The Viet Nam War, Oriental Whore, and the thoughts that ran thru a young man's head 5 Minutes 'Til Forever and forever's a long time dead. The heat of Hell, and the rains always fell; alone in an unfriendly land; a man has to prove he's a man, by doing the best that he can! Well, at least I'm now getting a darn good tan! Who said war is Hell? Ask that of the Marine who just fell . . . dead. This place is beginning to smell . . . bad.

With a map on the wall in the kitchen, while half of America is bit chin' and saying we shouldn't be there, they watch the 6 o'clock news, 'cause they have a son over there. Deadly hush envelopes the room, and their faces foretell of the gloom of doom, as the man names a place called Chu Lai; there's a tear in one father's eye, afraid that his son would soon die. A real man would never cry! But, dammit, 18 are just too young to die! Dad shakes his head once more, as they hear of the blood, death and gore, of these young men who died all alone. God, but he wished his son just would come back safely home! 'Cause Dad's seen it all once before, in a thing called the Second World War. 5 Minutes 'Til Forever, and forever's a long time dead. With a gun in my hand, here we take a stand, in the heat we wait in ambush, and I crouch down behind this small bush. Down the trail walks the shadow of a man, a walk straight into Hell not his plan; but no one can see, what holds destiny, not him, not you, bro, and not me! Booby-traps made of bamboo sticks, and the year is '66.

I line up the sights, and my muscles are tight, I dare not breathe at all, as the hammer's about to fall. Sweat runs down the crack of my ass . . . everything happened so fast! The outcome only time will tell. .. . And he lay in the dirt where he fell . . . dead as Hell! When the Reaper came, he didn't have my name, and I earned my 'steak and eggs' that day, with a man now dead but a few feet away. Thank God, I heard some dude say, it wasn't me today. The real world seemed a very, very long way away. Back in the rear with the gear, you just can't hide your fear, in a bottle of Black Label beer, and think back without shedding a tear. What the hell am I doing here? 5 Minutes 'Til Forever, and forever's a long time dead. Now there's Agent Orange . . . nothing rhymes with orange, but somehow that just seems to fit, 'cause this whole damn mess here is a big crock of--I'm still told there's a God in His Heaven, and the year is now '67.

As I step from the plane, in the sunny California rain, I've 'field-stripped' my last cigarette. My throat is dry, there's a tear in my eye . . . I'm home and without a regret. What's a man suppose to do, when he played by the rule, but the rules are constantly changed? First a beer, then a girl, and give living a whirl! Then a shrink if I'm not yet over the brink, and have my fool head re-arranged being back, home in 'The World' again feels really strange. 5 Minutes 'Til Forever, and forever's a long time dead, but I'm not dead yet, Fred.

Marines are still going thru Heaven's Gate, and the year is '68.

Too many dead before their time, and the year is '69. And no matter what you may hear, you just can't drown your fear at the bottom of a Blue Ribbon beer. 5 Minutes 'Til Forever, and forever's a long time dead.

Today the factory closed down; isn’t a job I this whole damn town, or nowhere for miles around. I’ve a wife and a child; last winter was mild; but what happens come next year? It’s the damn future that I now have to fear. 5 Minutes ‘Til Forever, and forever’s a long time dead. “We don’t need you here anymore.” Never felt this way before. A new decade, any more promises made; the year they come and they go. All too often, much too slow I’m not sure of the year anymore; wish I could sell my body like an effendi whore, at least my family could eat, like before!

‘69 or ‘79 or 1982, on the wings of time it all flew. The good times that we knew, are just memories that make you feel blue. 5 Minutes ‘Til Forever, and forever’s a long time dead. Isn’t had a job for so long, done forgot what color they are! I’ve two hands and a back that’s strong . . . The house is now long gone; and yesterday they took the damn car! Damn it, I think they’ve now gone too far.

There’s a long black “V” in Washington, D.C. dedicated now to their memory. Those men gave all that they could give, but, what of those of U.S. who lived? What’s the future now hold, for you and for me, bro, now that we’re now backing with our family? I sit in a room full of blue; and the year is 1982.

Then came the time, when food stamps were the next thing in line. The cold wind blew: it was about then that I knew that this man was about out of time. A man I be, but no gonads on me; medals I have in a drawer; but they don’t cash in medals at the grocery store. Said I’d starve before I’d go to the store, with a booklet of that “funny money.” But she came to me, and quite tactfully, said: Don’t worry, I’ll go, honey. Food Stamp is as good as money, to me. 5 Minutes ‘Til Forever, and forever’s a long time dead. How she did it I’ll never know, the damn gas bill continues to grow; couldn’t touch it with a ten foot pole. They going to shut it off? She answers me, no. I don’t think I’ll ever again be me; and the year is ‘83.

And I heard my son say, to his mother one day, that when he became a man, to be like his daddy was his plan. The smile of pride soon faded and died; the rest of his plan, you see, was not to have to work . . . just liked me! 5 Minutes ‘Til Forever, and forever’s a long time dead. A man all alone with a gun, a gun pointed at his own head. 5 Minutes ‘Til Forever, 5 Minutes more to live; I have nothing more to give . . ..In ‘63, John Kennedy . . . But, she was by my side, saying: “Swallow you damn foolish pride!” With a tear in her eye she said, “If you die, who’s gong to take care of our son? ‘Because they won’t be burying just one . . . Things are bound to improve, maybe we ought to move? But, my God, don’t do this to me! If not for yourself . . . think of your son, and me. Honey, put the gun back on the shelf.”

There isn’t a gun in our home anymore; often I stand and look out the front door; it might not be as good as before; but I’ve got my wife, and my son . . . ‘Because she wouldn’t let me use that damn gun. I thank God each day, in my own way do I pray, that someday it’ll be like before. But, for now, we’ll hang in there, a little while more . . . at least. 5 Minutes ‘Til Forever, but, forever need no mean dead! I keep hearing the words that she said: “Who’s going to take care of our son? ‘Cause they won’t be burying just one; don’t you see?”

My God, don’t do this to me!

It wasn’t always easy for Vietnam Veterans to come back “Home” back to “The World” again after having served in ‘Nam. For one thing, we didn’t all sudden come back to the States en mass like at the end of World War Two. We drifted back, alone, when our individual “Tour of Duty” was over. And, to what kind of reception did we return? Were we hailed as heroes?

Hell no! We were spat on and called horrible things like “Baby Killers.” And, our own fellow Americans--literally our peers--were publicly protesting our involvement in Vietnam. What the hell was going on here? We go over there, we risk our lives, and limbs, and a helluva lot of us bleed, and some 58,000 plus were to damn die, and for why, to come home and be spat on?

 

Story #8

 

TRAUMA

 

By Michael Harder

Alpha Company 1967

I arrived in Vietnam in mid August 1967. I was sent to 1^st Recon and began a two week Recon training. It was mostly physical – running miles and miles with a full pack and weapon, rappelling, etc. I came in second out of 52. I was then sent down to Chu Lai to join Alpha Co. I was shot out on the insertion of my first patrol – it was very exciting. I did two OP patrols in Chu Lai, and then we moved back up to DaNang. I was sent to Demo School for a week, and then went on my first real roving patrol. I loved the jungle, it was incredibly beautiful. I loved sneaking around like John Wayne. On October 15, 1967 we were inserted in the late afternoon into a place called Elephant Valley. We usually went with 10 guys, but we had a bunch of new guys in the Company, and were told to take them to get experience. There were 19 of us trying to be swift, silent and deadly in the jungle. We humped for a while and then set in for the night. The following day we humped incredibly difficult terrain. We don’t walk on trails, so with 19 guys breaking through the jungle, we were not exactly quiet. In the afternoon we spotted 5 VC, so we moved around this finger to avoid them. We then crossed this very well used wide trail. There was no way we could cover our trail with 19 guys. We moved into this valley and set in a 360 harbor site in late afternoon. We normally just sit for about a half-hour and listen before we take off our packs. I noticed a small camouflaged lean-to just in front of my position. Two guys go to check it out. An AK goes off on the other side of the perimeter, and then two guys open up and then quiet. We could hear them moving around us. Then about 30 feet away from me I see 4 gooks walking on line, I reach over and get Kelco’s attention. He says “well shoot them”. I open up on full automatic. All I remember today is the surprised look on the gooks face, and him falling over. Then everyone opens up and there are rounds flying everywhere. I was so excited that I was yelling, “I got him, I got him.” I am rolling around on the ground trying to get another magazine out of the pouch. But, I put too many in there and it was stuck. Rounds were hitting the rotten log in front of me and debris got in my eyes. I could here the rounds hitting leaves. It got quiet again and no one was hurt. We threw CS gas and broke contact. We moved about 500 meters up this ridge line and set in for the night. We called in artillery and an air strike. We set claymores out and were on 100% alert. I could here movement during the night, but no contact was made. At first light we moved off the ridge in kind of a gully to go down to the rice paddies for extraction. I think I was number 3 off the hill. We got about 100 yards down and the tail-end Charlie opened up on automatic. I remember turning to my right and hesitating, just looking for movement. Cpl Lothian yelled “fire.” Then everyone was firing on full automatic. We set up in a 360 and called COC. It got quiet again. The Gunny wants to move downhill to be extracted, but HQ wants him to assault the hill. We know they are up there. The Gunny argues, but this f¼.ing Maj. Timmons threatens him with court marshal if he doesn’t go back up the hill. Cpl Lowthian tells me to stay behind and set off two claymores facing downhill when we move out. After we begin to move out, I wait until Lowthian signals me and I blow the claymores. I am trying to catch up when Sgt Young is almost to the top of the hill. He opens fire, and then we started taking machine gun and automatic weapons fire from three sides. All hell broke loose, it was complete bedlam. Everyone is firing and yelling and trying to move back downhill and get in a 360. It seems like it is all in slow motion. I am looking right at the Gunny shot in the neck with the Doc holding him trying to stop the blood. There is a big hole in his neck and blood is just pumping out. The Gunny is trying to talk, but is just blowing bubbles. The Doc had the look that said the Gunny would be dead soon. Everyone is yelling obscenities and the gooks are yelling back at us. Wright is sobbing “Oh lord, Collier is dead, Oh lord collier is dead.” Collier had taken my position in the column, I should be the one dead. I am standing firing my M-16 on full auto to the left. I can see muzzle flashes coming from the bushes. The smell of gunpowder is overwhelming. Someone yells at me to get down. Rauch, the radioman is right next to me one arm’s length away. He was from San Francisco. He was calling the COC one minute, and then when I looked back at him he was staring with a hole in his head. His eyes were open with a blank stare. He wore glasses and was just staring at me. Guys were yelling for the Doc. Things slowed down a little, and then I saw a grenade coming in slow motion out of the trees above. It had a wooden handle and was smoking. People were yelling and diving out of the way. More grenades started dropping in. Hancock is screaming at me to get the radio to him. He is hit in the right side bad with shrapnel. Rauch’s legs are blown off. I cut the radio pack off of Rauch and give it to Hancock. He is screaming hysterically into the radio “We are going to be overrun.” I was completely shocked. I looked around, and all I could see was bodies of dead and wounded. It finally dawned on me that I was going to die. I took my K-bar out and stuck it in the ground next to me. I thought this was it. At this point I made a deal with the god that I grew up with – get me out of this one, and I will go back to church. All they had to do was keep coming then and it would have been all over – but they didn’t. Firing became more sporadic, but you could see the gooks moving around really clear. Doc Mecurio is walking around patching guys up like nothing is going on. He seems to be moving in slow motion standing up in the middle of a firefight with rounds going everywhere – he never got a scratch. He tells me to help Basco. He has a hole in his chest under his left arm with clear gooey shit oozing out. He seems OK, so I put a bandage on him, and he keeps shooting. We haven’t been able to get any gunships or Medevac because of the weather. We can hear the gunships, but they can’t see us because it’s raining and the canopy is thick. Cpl Lothian is now in charge, and he is calling in arty on our position. The gooks stay real close to us, so there really isn’t a choice. Shrapnel is flying through the perimeter. An RPG comes right through the middle of the perimeter, and doesn’t hit anything. A machine gun is keeping us down low. At this point there are only six of us not wounded. Things were slowing down a little, and we had been pinned down for about 6 hours. I was out of ammo, and the Doc collected magazines from the dead and wounded and passed them around to us. The weather started to clear, and Lowthian signaled our position with an air panel because we were out of smoke. The gunships began strafing, some of it coming into our perimeter, so we called them off. A medevac chopper hovered and lowered a jungle penetrate for four of the worst WIA’s. I was later told that the helicopter took 8 hits from a .50 cal while trying to get in. Once the weather cleared, the firing slowed way down. We were told that they were sending a company of grunts to save our ass. It had been quiet for about an hour when I heard something directly below me. Someone yelled Marines, and then the grunts came up to us. I remember feeling completely exhausted, and just kind of sitting there staring off in shock. The grunts formed a perimeter around us, and began checking for gooks and blood trails. I remember getting up and walking uphill to one of my kills. There was a couple of grunts kind of standing around him. I went up to check the body and cut some ears. I remember stripping him and checking his pockets. He had some money, a lighter, and a picture of a woman holding the hand of a young little girl maybe five years old. I stared at the picture for a minute or so and then I put it back in his pocket. I then took out my K-bar and the grunts said “Yeah, get some.” I knelt down and put my knife to his left ear. Then I just looked at him and noticed he had a fresh haircut. I stood up and walked away. Those few moments changed my life forever. It was starting to get dark, so the grunts put us in the middle of their column and we moved out down a trail that was close by. We walked all night. I remember feeling so tired I could barely walk. In the middle of the night the point man opened up on three gooks coming up the trail. I remember just sitting down in the middle of the trail – I didn’t give a shit anymore – it just didn’t matter. We got down to the rice paddies about mid morning. Helicopters took the rest of the wounded and the dead bodies. The bodies were stacked on top of each other. Rauch’s legs were on top of him, and my buddy Covington sat next to them. The five of us not wounded got a ride out down the river in an Amtrak. We then hitched a ride on a 6x. Along the way we came across a truck with some donut dollies on the side of the road. They had milk and cake. I remember just stuffing the cake into my mouth by the handful. The donut dollies were just smiling and looking at us not saying a word. Then one of them got this strange look of either disgust or shock on her face looking at me. I kind of looked around and then looked at my hands that were stuffing the cake into my mouth. They were caked with dried blood. I felt like an animal¼¼.

I feel really sad when I think that just going through this event was not enough. I am so tired of thinking about it for the last 38 years it just doesn’t seem right……... Michael Harder Team Texas Pete Alpha 3rd Plt. Aug. 67 May 69

 

Story #9

 

A Reunion to Remember

 

By Micheal Holmes

Delta Company 66/67

 

Group of Vietnam veterans rediscovers bonds that can't be broken

By Micheal R. Holmes Special to Empire Life Jan. 14, 1990

In early 1988 I was at the Pentagon on a writing assignment for the Department of the Navy. On an impulse that was half whim and half hope, I dialed a number and reached out to touch Ronald E. Benoit, Captain, United States Marine Corps, Retired. Ron Benoit was my Recon Team commander in Vietnam in 1966 and 1967. He took me and a group of other teenage boys deep into the jungle and tried to keep us alive while we did things that still keep some of us awake and screaming into the dark. Ron couldn't save us all, but he tried.

Our job was reconnaissance. A small group of us would get on a helicopter at our home base in Chu Lai and fly west for a while. We'd get dropped off deep in the bush, as we called it, and sneak around for several days, hiding or moving at night and looking for whatever the people who directed our lives wanted us to find. To enter the bush on patrol was to enter a place so strange and twisted that our experiences often approached the mystical. The bush was hostile, it was foreign, and it was very dangerous.

At the least, a patrol meant walking bent over for day at a time, not speaking above a whisper. Besides the men and women who waited to kill you and the deadly little surprises they buried in the ground, it meant poisonous snakes, gorillas, tigers and small, slimy gray things that fastened themselves to your body and sucked your blood. In the summer the bush meant heat stroke that could kill you standing up. In the monsoon seasons it meant "immersion foot" so bad you could almost hear your toes rot. At all times it meant bad food, stale water and body odors so foul they'd hang in the air like a stain. And for me, it meant fear.

I was afraid my entire time in Vietnam. Sometimes, at night, in the jungle, I was so terrified that I'd hallucinate in vivid, shimmering colors. I saw Jesus once, with long hair and flowing robes, standing right in the middle of the trail. He was smiling sadly and shaking his head.

Another time I took a step and everything disappeared - the guy in front of me, the jungle, everything. I stood on the shore of a vast ocean that stretched off into a cloud bank and actually took three or four steps out into the water before everything got green and leafy again. .

Everybody knew I was afraid, too. You don't know all there is to know about someone you serve in combat with, but you do know everything about part of them. But I did my job and anyway, the hallucinations were a lot less weird than what some of the guys were into. Some would catch and cook rats. Once I saw a dried ear thrown into a mess tin of scrambled eggs. There was also your basic stuff like sticking the ace of spades into a dead guy's mouth. But my friend, J.J. who went crazy with only 10 days left, really summed it all up.

J.J. was a short, fat guy with a big wide smile like the entrance to a fun house. J.J. refused to look into mirrors. He'd shave by sense of touch, and once shot a metal mirror off a pole with a .45 automatic. He would explain himself with a small, quiet laugh: "If I can't see myself," he'd say, "then I'm not here."

That was the thing about the bush. It was' always there. You had always just come back from there, were on your way there, or couldn't stop thinking about there. The bush was an absolute, and absolutes are almost impossible to come by anymore, at least in this country. That's why, I think, so many of us are still there.

It's sure as hell where I was when I heard Ron Benoit's voice on the phone. His voice hadn't changed in 22 years, and he said "Mike?" and I said "Lieutenant?" and he laughed and said "Call me Ron" and I couldn't call him anything because I smelled the green, wet bush again and heard the thump-thump-thump of a Huey gunship and the tears were starting to come so I just made a kind of choking sound and then just sat there and stared into a hole in the air that was a thousand miles deep.

Then we talked. And among 10,000 other things we talked about a reunion. I was skeptical. I told him I didn't think we could locate enough of the guys. "I can find a few," Ron said, "and maybe I've got way of finding more. Anyhow, there was the thing with Charlie down in Louisiana. His lawyer found a few of the men through that. I've still got their addresses."

Charlie had come to the team, gone on a few patrols, seen some bad stuff, gotten wounded and gone home to Texas. He got married, settled down then started having problems. His wife left him and took the children to her brother's house in Louisiana, Charlie went after her. When his brother-in-law met him at the door with a gun, Charlie pulled his own and shot him dead right there on the doorstep. He was arrested and found not guilty by reason of insanity. The insanity was Vietnam, and Ron and some of the guys had gone down there to testify.

"Well," I said, "maybe we can get the ball rolling." I said that, but to me it was like raising the Titanic. The possibility was there, but the reality was down so deep and who knew what the years had eroded. Anyhow I'd thought and hoped and remembered all those years, but that didn't mean anyone else had. But a seed had been planted. Sometimes you just have to believe because even if it doesn't come true, believing is the right thing to do. I came back to Spokane a few days later. Time passed and I thought about it, but it was ashes from a cold fire. Then one day Ron called me and said, "I think I've found Darrell up in Minnesota." I'd seen Darrell get his third Purple Heart when Charles, another Charles, hit a trip wire on point.

It was a setup the VC liked to use where the trip wire ran across the trail and then snaked back, unseen in the grass, to a booby trap about 30 feet behind it. This would get more people because it'd blow up about, the middle of the column.

That's what it did, and it got several of us, as well as setting off a CS gas grenade which confused things even more. Anyhow, Willie and I crawled over to Darrell, who was lying still on his stomach. We thought he was dead, but we rolled him over anyway to make sure. His face was black with burns, but he opened both eyes and grinned and held up three fingers for three Purple Hearts, which meant he was going home. And Willie and I said, "All right!"

So I called that number and Darrell was still alive and real and he said, "Hell yes, man! Hell yes I'll be there, just say when and where, and, hell yes, I'll be there!" In his big Minnesota Swede accent he said that and a bell rang, and man, it started. That was our omen that was our sign. From then on we could do no wrong and Ron would find names and I'd call or write and at first there'd be disbelief and then a guy would say, "Hell yes, man! Hell yes, I'll be there!"

Nine months went by. My wife Melissa and daughter Michal had picked out clothes for the trip and I had the plane tickets hidden in my sock drawer. The reunion was to be in Washington, D.C., in the last part of August 1989, some 22 years since we'd seen one another. It was a long way to travel for some of us, but the symbolism was so obvious, and of course The Wall - the Vietnam Memorial - was there, so everybody agreed it was the only place.

On the first day of the reunion, we were talking to Ron and his wife Barbara down in the hotel lobby. And then Tim Fonderlin was there, introducing his wife Diane and son Shane, who could have passed for Tim last time I saw him. Timmy was older and had a beard, but he still had that kind of quiet self-possession that made him one of the best natural bush leaders I ever saw.

Willie Ridgeway was there, too, still in the Marine Corps but a first sergeant now with 24 years of service behind him. He had a gravel voice and gimlet eye like the former drill instructor that he was, but he was still Willie.

We moved into the bar filled with overstuffed chairs and open to the lobby and we talked and laughed in short nervous bursts that gradually slowed down and flattened out as we settled into this strange new feeling.

As we were talking, a tall, white-haired guy in a designer tennis outfit walked in, went up to the bar and sat down. He ordered a beer and sat there looking at us. Ron was talking about something when suddenly the guy got up, walked over and stood in the middle of our little group. He looked at Ron. "Is that Ron Benoit?" he asked, and choked on the word "Benoit." Benoit nodded and stood up slowly.

"Who're you?" he, asked with a kind of wonder in his voice.

"I'm Danny Thompson," the man said, and then lurched forward with his arms out.

"Jesus Christ," somebody said, and it was probably me.

Ron tried to step back, but a table blocked him and suddenly the man was hugging him and crying and Ron was trying to hug him back but it happened too fast so he stopped and just stood there. Then the moment swept us all up and Barbara Benoit was crying and Tim and I had Danny around the shoulders.

So Danny came into our little circle with his white hair and young old face. "Click-click," he said "Click-click." Ron nodded and they talked about it.

Danny was out in the bush as a radio operator with a new lieutenant after Ron and I were blown up it was night time and the VC was all around them in the dark. Danny could hear the soft rustling noises as they got into position and he whispered into his radio that it wasn't safe to talk any longer.

Ron was helping with the radio net back in a rear area. "I understand you are surrounded," he transmitted. "If that's so click your hand set once."

"Click-click"

"1 understand you are about to get overrun. Is that' so, "click-your handset again."

"Click-click"

Then the VC opened up and rushed forward out of the dark, firing into the team. The new lieutenant was shot dead and an AK-47 round took the radio out and that was the last anyone heard of Danny and the other guys until the survivors were found a day or so later.

So that day passed and ended, and the next morning we turned the hospitality suite into a time capsule.