Ghost Warriors
		by: TJ McGinley Tiger Force Recon 1/327/101st Abn. Div. Vietnam 1968-1969© Copyright 2009

This article originally appeared on the following website:  http://www.war-stories.com/ and is printed here with the permission of the author.

In November of 1968, I was walking slack for 1/327/101st Airborne Divisions recon team  “Tiger Force,” in the jungle covered mountains of the Central Highlands, about 50 miles west of Hue, South Vietnam.  John Gertsch was walking point that day when we came across a well-used trail.  Gertsch stopped and put his left fist up, which meant that everyone stop and be perfectly quiet.  Then he spread his hand out in an open gesture, which meant, quietly, get down and pay attention.  We did.  Gertsch and I checked the trail for tracks and any another other signs of enemy activity.  We found fresh prints and reported back to the lieutenant, who told us to set up an ambush.

Within 15 minutes, a small patrol of six NVA appeared on the trail.  We waited until they were in the right spot, made sure there were no more NVA behind them and then opened fire.  Afterward, we cleared the trail, cleaned up any evidence that we were there and left the area.  One of the NVA soldiers was an officer and was carrying maps and paperwork.  We walked to a suitable site and requested a helicopter to pick-up and take the NVA paperwork to the rear to be analyzed.

We hiked for another hour and set up a night defensive position.  Early in the evening, Gertsch, Zeke, Campos and I, quietly discussed the day’s events before taking our defensive positions.  As I sat in silence, just listening to the jungle, I reflected back on just how I got to be in this elite unit of sky soldiers.

When the United States first started sending significant numbers of troops to Vietnam, we were using WWII tactics., which didn’t work against the North Vietnamese, who were waging guerrilla warfare, and it soon became apparent that superior firepower and company-sized units were ineffective.  A group of 180 men moving through the jungle are loud, the noise carrying for miles and allowing the enemy time to react to our presence.

Late in 1965, a young and highly decorated Lt. Col. in the 101st Airborne Division, David Hackworth convinced his superiors we would have a greater success using smaller, well-armed, camouflaged units that could move quietly through the jungle. The first of these groups comprised from hand-picked, experienced volunteers from the First Brigade of the 101st.  They became known as Tiger Force.

I was the second of nine children, four of which were the draft age in 1967.  The oldest was in the Marines already; one was in military school, and another was about to graduate from high school.  I’d just graduated and had no plans for college.  Besides, I felt if I went to Vietnam the chances of my brothers going would be slim.  It worked, I went, and everybody else stayed home.

I arrived in Bien Hoa, Vietnam, on April 4, 1968, and spent a month or so in additional training in the 90th replacement.  Afterward, we flew north to Camp Eagle where I spent a single night before I took the first of countless helicopter rides along with a few other new guys and me, we were “Cherries” going to the firebase, Veghel.

The replacements and I spent one-hour there then walked out through the jungle to meet my company on a hilltop overlooking the mountains and valleys of the Central Highlands.   Little did I know that walking through some of the most difficult and remote terrains in South Vietnam would be what I did for the next fourteen months.

Vietnam was divided into three zones. The northern zone was I Corps which consisted of battle grounds like the DMZ, The Rock Pile, Khe Sanh and the closest supply routes from North Vietnam into the south, the A-Shau Valley. I Corps was manned by conventional large scale, well armed, well trained and well resupplied NVA Regular Army Divisions. Farther south, II and III Corps were dominated by enemy units called the Viet Cong that used more of a guerrilla warfare tactic.

2 Squad, 2 Platoon, C Co. 1/327/101 1968

Because I was unmarried, I was assigned the job of walking point for Charlie Company, 1st/327, 101st Airborne Division, a line company with roughly 120 men.  During the month of May 1968, we operated in an area fifty miles west of Hue know as the Ruong-Ruong Valley.  During a daily patrol, we discovered something that illustrated how determined our enemy was.  We walked into a natural cathedral fashioned by an eighty-foot canopy, covering a 300-yard diameter clearing, and surrounded on three sides by a river.  The overhead foliage is camouflaging it from the air.

In its center, we found one of the largest caches of enemy weapons ever found during the Vietnam War.  The inventory included five Chinese 85mm Howitzers, several crew-served anti-aircraft guns, hundreds of rifles, mortars, anti-tank weapons and in the surrounding jungle, 58 Russian trucks filled with misc. equipment.  When the officers reviewed a topographical map, they could trace the enemy’s route to transport the weapons from Laos, through the A-Shau Valley and into the Ruong-Ruong where we found them.

Above Photo: 85 Howitzers in the Roung-Roung Valley 1968

Under normal circumstances, we never stayed in one location longer than one night but with all this enemy weaponry to protect we were told to do something I had never done before — dig in.  I wasn’t much of a believer in foxholes. I preferred the idea of silence and camouflage over digging a hole. However, this time, my excavation was six feet long, four feet wide, and two feet deep.

I felt that they knew exactly where I was in this hole, and regardless of how deep I could dig it, it wouldn’t do me any good.

Humpin the trail

On our second day at this site, we heard that a friendly unit would penetrate the perimeter at our sector.  From out of the jungle came the most impressive group of soldiers I had seen to date, Tiger Force, clad in French camouflage fatigues, and carrying sawed-off shotguns and AK47s.  None of them wore a helmet; these men had a look of people who meant business.  I had walked point long enough and knew that a helmet was a detriment in the ability to hear, so I never wore one.

Tiger Force camped with us that night, and their quiet confidence and field expertise drew me in like a magnet.  I knew at that moment, that if I were going to spend the next several months in the jungle, I wanted to be with people who knew what they were doing and this unit of about thirty men had that effect on me.  In the morning, I discovered that the Tigers had vanished, slipping silently into the jungle while we slept.

Charlie Company stayed at the site until all the weapons had been either removed or destroyed. Afterward, we continued our mission and headed west toward Laos. When we reached the border, we turned north. The NVA used The A-Shua Valley as an important supply route to funnel weapons and supplies, such as what we found in the Ruong-Ruong Valley.  At certain times of the year, the rains prevented Americans from moving into this valley because aircraft wouldn’t be able to support them.  The enemy used this time and weather to their advantage.  Our objective was to protect a corps of engineers who were planting a minefield across the western entrance to the valley off the Ho Chi Min trail from Laos.

Ashau Valley

On The first of June 1968, we were on a mountain overlooking Laos to our west and the A Shau to the east. That afternoon we witnessed the single most spectacular display of firepower I had ever seen. We watched a B-52 strike along the center of the valley.

B-52 Arc Light Mission

We could not hear the planes or the bombs as they fell, but the explosions were incredible to watch.  We were about 10 miles away, and felt the percussion, and then heard shrapnel flying through the trees above us. Those who were not lying on the ground – suddenly became a part of it.  The barrage threw trees and debris hundreds of feet into the air, the blasts, continuous without any time elapsing between detonations.

Our commander was Tom Kinane, who had an uncanny ability to look at a topographical map and knew where the enemy was.  He also informed us that getting past the fortifications around the Valley would be the most dangerous part of our mission.  He was right!   There were semi-permanent NVA complexes both above and below ground on several of the high ridges.  It was between two of these fortifications that my squad walked into an ambush while on patrol.  Within two minutes, nine of the eleven men were wounded.  Only the man at the rear of the column and myself were not wounded.

All the enemy had to do to stop the advance of the Americans was to wound a few of us, and everything would grind to a halt.   They knew that we would cut a hole in the jungle to accommodate medevac helicopters.  This gave the NVA time to regroup and better prepare for the advancing Americans.

By the morning of June 3rd, we had worked our way to a point high on a ridge facing north.  To the west was the Laotian border, to the east, open terrain of the valley floor and just ahead of us to the north on the other side of the entrance to the valley was a large mountain.  The U.S. military identified it was Hill 937; the Vietnamese called it Dong Ap Bai, and a year later Senator Ted Kennedy called it “Hamburger Hill”.

We descended from the south down the mountain to the floor of the AShua Valley.  Once there, our objective changed from exploring jungle covered mountains – most of which were virgin – never seeing humans prior to our visit, to protecting a unit of engineers on one of the most heavily used NVA infiltration routes into the south. The engineers needed somebody to watch over them as they laid a minefield across the northern entrance to the valley.  The valley floor comprised of 8-foot high Elephant grass but no dense jungle or cover, so it was imperative that this operation wrap up as quickly as possible.

Elephant Grass – each strand has razor sharp edges

Orders soon came around requiring the 1/327 to find out if there was any enemy activity on Hill 937.  Delta Company led the way followed by Charlie Company in support.  Once on the valley floor, our personal security evaporated.  For the first time in months, large groups of men have totally exposed themselves with without a canopy, jungle, and no place to hide in this enemy stronghold.

Finally, we reached the other side of the valley and started our ascent up Hill 937.  Soon Delta Company began receiving fire from somewhere to our front.  It wasn’t long before we encountered reinforced bunkers, heavy machine gun fire, and mortar rounds from what seemed like every direction, way more fire power than we’d experienced to date.  Our orders were to find out if there was enemy activity up there, not to take the hill.  As soon as we confirmed that the hill was occupied, we pulled back and returned to our sanctuary on the other side of the valley floor where we called the Air Force to deal with the mountain stronghold.  By the time we returned to our overlook position, the entire battalion was on the valley floor protecting the engineers.

For the next three hours, jets dropped napalm, 250-pound bombs, and what seemed like everything except nukes on this hill – green tracers from NVA anti-aircraft guns chased the aircraft across the sky.  Never have I seen such bold action taken by the enemy as I did that day.  This hill was different from all the mountains we had explored so far because of its strategic location, guarding the Laotian border and the entrance to the valley.  To our north and southwest, massive mountains bordered the valley, the Laotian border was to our west – we finally realized that we were standing in the middle of the Ho-Chi-Minh Trail.

Hill 937 before the major battle and assault

Time was crucial, and we knew we were being watched from the surrounding mountains.  The engineers finished their job just before nightfall, and now it was time to leave.   As we prepared to move out incoming mortar rounds began falling on us from the surrounding mountains, and then artillery fire landed from somewhere in Laos. We had to move, and the only direction open to us was south, straight down the center of the valley.

Ashau Valley 

It was my turn to walk point,  and without a moment’s delay, we took off at a rather fast pace. It was getting dark fast, and we moved quickly through the elephant grass, suffering and getting cut to ribbons by the razor-sharp blades.  However, it was much quicker than trying to cut our way through the dense jungle.  We slowed down after an hour when coming across crumpled barbed wire and rotting sand bags.  I knew we had found the abandoned Green Beret camp that was overrun by the NVA in 1966.  The discovery put me in my place, and I realized what I was doing and where I was – walking point through one of the most dangerous locations on the planet in 1968, the A-Shau Valley in the middle of the night.

TJ McGinley.

I encountered two separate groups of NVA soldiers during our march. Americans seldom moved at night, so our adversaries didn’t know just what to do when I appeared out of the vegetation.  They ran! Not wanting to broadcast our location, we didn’t give chase or expel many rounds at the fleeing enemy.  I didn’t know the size of the force we had encountered, and they didn’t know how many of us there were. It was an instantaneous mutual understanding among adversaries in this very odd situation, to leave well enough alone.  Firefights raged all through the valley as the NVA probed encamped units of Americans in the dark of night.

We slowed our pace now that we were out of range of the artillery that pursued us. After what seemed like weeks the most beautiful dawn that I can remember unfolded. We had radioed ahead to an American unit to be expecting our approach from the north. What they saw must have resembled a scene from a Steven King novel. From out of the early morning mist came a unit of ghost soldiers.

Ashau Valley shrouded in fog during early morning recon.

The elephant grass, which we mostly ignored, had cut us to shreds. We were completely out of food, low on ammo, water, and strength. We had been up for 48 hours straight and the last eight we had walked, at night, through ten miles of one of the most enemy infested locations in all of South Vietnam.

Later that day the First Brigade of the 101st was extracted from the AShau Valley after being in the jungle of the Central Highland for more than three months.

During their five-day stand-down at Camp Eagle, several members of Charlie Company including myself decided to join Tiger Force.  It was in this elite group of paratroopers that I first met men who could “out-Indian” the Indians.  This recon team consisted of about 30 well-seasoned, handpicked volunteers.

Left Photo: Zeke Blevins, John Toberman, Dave Fields and TJ McGinley.
Right Photo: Sparks, Rader Rick, Zeke Blevins, and Stan Parker

Under the command of Lt. Fred Raymond, John Gertsch, Dave Fields, and others, Tiger Force worked with a smoothness and efficiency that even surprised the enemy.

Tigers ran recon for the First Brigade and would be the unit called on if one of the line companies was in trouble or needed help. But our specialty was ambush and recon.

Gertsch, as he was known, was a master in the field, teaching all who were near the ways of the jungle and how to use it to our advantage.  In his words, “how to be there, but not be there.”  When there was any fighting going on, you could find John diving into it doing what had to be done to get his fellow paratroopers out of danger with no thought for his safety.

One day we were hit and pinned down by a well-planned NVA ambush. Gertsch was on point.  Instead of pulling back, John crawled forward alone. The NVA didn’t see him until he came up in the middle of their perimeter. Before we knew what happened, Gertsch had killed most of them and returned with three prisoners.

Tiger Force 1968

Another time John led the Tigers on a two-day hunt through the AShau Valley chasing a PT-76 NVA tank. Nobody stopped us to ask what we’d do if we caught up with it. The tank made it back across the Laos border before we caught it. Gertsch stomped where angels and devils feared to tread.

Tiger Force had seen more action than any other unit in the Division. And John was the best of the best.  Anyone who’d been wounded twice by claymores, and still walked point, had more nerve than any one man deserved.

John was ending his third consecutive tour with Tigers when he was chosen as “Soldier of the Year” and asked to represent the 101st Airborne Division at an annual reunion in Fort Campbell, KY.  John knew Tiger Force was heading back into the notorious AShau Valley and knew that they needed his experience for this dangerous mission. He made a decision to stay in-country and help his unit on this mission. As it turned out, that decision became costly for all of us.

Tiger Force was choppered into the AShau Valley on July 17, 1969, and ambushed two days later. The platoon leader was hit and wounded severely, Gertsch moved forward and then dragged him to a sheltered position. John assumed command of the heavily engaged platoon and led his men in a fierce counterattack that forced the enemy to withdraw and managed to recover two wounded comrades.  A short time later, Tigers were attacked again. John charged forward firing as he advanced. Together, John and the other Tigers forced the enemy to withdraw a second time.

Some time later his platoon came under attack for the third time, this time by a company sized NVA element.  John suffered a severe wound during the onslaught, he continued to fight and noticed a medic treating a wounded officer.  Realizing that both men were in imminent danger of being killed, John rushed forward and positioned himself between them and the enemy.  He continued to provide cover fire while others moved the wounded officer to safety.  John, however, was mortally wounded.

John Gertsch, July 1968.

By the end of the Vietnam conflict, Tiger Force had seen more combat than any other unit in the 1st Brigade of the 101st ABD becoming one of the highest decorated units of its size in the military at that time.  Sixty percent of its members earned the Bronze Star with “V” device for valor, thirty percent received Silver Stars, and two Tigers received The Congressional Medal of Honor.

Lt. James Gardner, C.O. of Tiger Force KIA Feb. 7, 1966, was awarded a Purple Heart,  three Bronze Stars, two Silver Stars and The Congressional Medal of Honor.

My mentor and good friend John Gertsch was KIA in the AShau on June 19, 1969. In all, John was awarded three Purple Hearts, three Bronze Stars with “V” device, five Silver Stars, and for his actions on July 19, John was awarded The Congressional Medal of Honor.

David Hackworth briefs Gen. Julian Ewell (right)

Our commander and founder, Col. David Hackworth died at his home on May 14, 2007.  David participated in every conflict the U.S. fought WWII through Vietnam.  David earned eight Purple Hearts, eight Bronze Stars, ten Silver Stars, and two Distinguished Service Crosses and was nominated for The Congressional Medal of Honor three times.

Fred Raymond is still in the military. He works for the Department of Veterans Affairs and holds the rank of Major General. Fred still has the respect of all who had the honor of serving under him. Being a member of this elite unit of Ghost Warriors was the pinnacle of my brief time in the military. TJ McGinley Tiger Force Recon 1/327 – 101st Abn. Div. Vietnam ’68-’69

Author TJ McGinely is an active member of War-Stories

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My friend, Duke Barrett is the author of  “The Wall of Broken Dreams” and had recently posted this story on one of the Facebook Veteran Groups. It is posted below with his permission – I pulled various pictures from my collection and added them to help visualize the story.

With veterans day just around the corner, I was compelled to post this essay I wrote of a day in the life of an infantryman.  I recently had the honor of partaking in “The 50th Commemoration of the Vietnam War” ceremony this past April at Ft. Irwin, Ca. Having done so, this well-meaning event couldn’t help but stir up a few old, and I mean old, lasting memories. Here, below, is but one.

Good manners require that I be cordial to all visitors but one in particular, the one from the deepest recesses of my mind, the one who makes a number of unannounced visits, the one I find most annoying and treat it as such. Let’s call that visitor a “lasting memory,” and seared into my being or not, to that blast from the past, so to speak, I say “enough already.” Call me rude.

Allow me to explain. Many years ago, June 23rd, 1966 I was part of an undermanned reconnaissance platoon of the 1/8 Cavalry, of the 1st Air Cavalry Division, Airborne. We had just been airlifted into the immediate area surrounding the city of Tuy Hoa, South Vietnam, along the picturesque South China Sea. Our mission was to assist an overwhelmed 101st Airborne Division who were locked into some heavy fighting with a large number of Viet Cong and North Vietnamese Army regulars in the hills surrounding Tuy Hoa. This hardened and highly trained unit of paratroopers had only recently been engaged in some intense close-order combat at Dak To, north of Kontum, where we too had just completed operations.

As our platoon anxiously awaited orders just inside the relatively secure perimeter of the 101’s fire support base, my buddy Frank and I reminisced about life “back in the world.” I remember telling Frank how I’d rather be home for my sister’s birthday, that particular day of June 22nd, rather than chasing bad guys through the jungles of Vietnam. Well as luck would have it, our orders were just as we’d expected. No birthday celebrations for you Mr. Barrett. How’s bout another reconnaissance patrol into an area ripe with North Vietnamese Army troops first thing in the morning on a nearby hillside? “Hey, that’s cool,” I thought. I mean, that’s what we do; we’re paratroopers. Who in their right mind would pass up an opportunity like this? Home is overrated. On a positive note, at least this patrol was going to put us on a hillside that led to a mountain top where It could be a little less jungle-like, a wee bit less humid and maybe even cooler, like, you know, only in the high 90’s. Life can be good at times.

Just after dark we settled in our temporary accommodations for a good nights rest as visions of NVA danced in our heads. At the dawn’s early light on June 23rd, following a night’s rest, we rolled out of our beds, took hot showers, had breakfast and coffee and then turned in our room keys as we checked out at the front desk. (I kid) Actually, as soon as we woke up we rolled out of our poncho liners, which like us, were on the damp ground, grabbed our weapons, checked our gear for large insects and snakes, saddled up and boarded the waiting choppers for the short flight to the Army Special Forces compound on the nearby hillside. Call us grunts.

Immediately upon our arrival at the SF compound we linked up with a squad from another brigade with the sole intention of beefing up our anemic numbers. The attached squad came from the “blues” an elite element of the 1/9 Cavalry, of our division reconnaissance company. The 1/9 Cav saw more combat than any other fighting unit in all of Vietnam, and that’s a fact. Great! This could be seen as either a good sign or a bad sign depending on one’s perspective. It turned out to be not so good. Action was the word of the day.

As our reinforced reconnaissance platoon left the compound and headed farther up the hillside as ordered, we made enemy contact only minutes following our departure. The designated point squad for this patrol happened to be our third squad and in short order they killed three NVA soldiers who were at the trails edge in what appeared to be a futile and fruitless search for water. A thorough search of the enemy corpses for intelligence purposes yielded little if any information and so off we went again. The trail, more or less an animal trail soon turned into an extremely wide trail. That, you all, is not cool. I didn’t understand why we were walking on that trail as our recon platoon and patrols usually operated on the sides of any given trail, especially a wide and obviously used trail. Chances of even more contact soon became apparent by the significant numbers of freshly dug foxholes and como wire adjacent to this South Vietnamese version of a mountain freeway. The million dollar question was just how many troops did these foxholes and wire constitute?

Our platoon sergeant, Sergeant Blease, a hardened Korean War survivor of the “Battle of Pork Chop Hill” soon realized that we’d stumbled upon something far larger than our relatively small number of troops were manned and equipped to handle, prompting him to call for air-support in the form of helicopter gun-ships. In no time they arrived and peppered the ground to our immediate fore with rockets and M-60 machine-gun fire. In the process of this strike, a hot expended shell casing fired from an M-60 machine gun went down the back of my fatigue shirt. It burned like hell and pissed me off. Call me an ingrate.

1/8 Cav. Airborne Delta Recon at Bong Son, Oct. 66-Duke center front, Sergeant “Rock” Musial, combat legend, center standing. Some of these men were lost between 12/66 and Valentine’s Day 67

Shortly afterward Sergeant Blease ordered a more stealth like recon of the immediate area and summoned my buddy Frank, a Davy Crockett re-incarnate, for this undertaking. Frank, a God- fearing, guitar pickin,’ good ole country boy from North Carolina, was ordered to scout the real estate that lie ahead and given the opportunity to pick one good man to go with him. As luck would have it, he picked me, and I’m sure it was because we were best of friends. Opposites attract, I was a city guy, a “rock ‘n’ roller,” Frank, well, he chewed tobacco. My question, is that any way to treat a friend?

So off we went, quietly and cautiously, and I mean cautiously, for about a hundred yards up a trail that was abundant in thin trees that provided little cover. Due to the encounters we’d already experienced this day, we had a gut-feeling that we’d soon have our hands full, of action that is. Call us seers.

Approaching some broken foliage just off of the trail, I can still picture Frank slowly pulling back a branch from a bush, motioning to me with his finger pointed downward, indicating a target, slowly lifting his M-16 rifle and firing a short burst of rounds into the dug-in enemy position. That’s when things got heated.

You know that old saying “monkey see-monkey do?” Well, that was pretty much my role in this close encounter of the worst kind. Frank pointed and fired. Then I fired. He threw a grenade, and I threw a grenade. Then we both fired into the enemy position with Frank putting another head shot on the remaining pith-helmeted NVA gunner, momentarily silencing the enemy position. Not to be outdone, I fired my weapon and tore apart tree limbs and the like. In a split-second, a full fusillade of withering, angry automatic weapons fire poured down on us like monsoon rains. Well assured that they now harbored even more ill intentions towards us, we high-tailed it, or, as they say, in-country, “di-di mau’d” back down the trail, much less cautious and stealth like than our recent approach.

In our tactical retreat to the rear, we rolled, jumped and somehow outfoxed the speeding projectiles intent on maiming us as they flew between our legs, whizzed past our ears, under our arms and kicked up dirt and debris all around us. The foliage along our escape route became a victim of the high-powered rounds intended for our demise and nearly caused an environmental forestry disaster.

I must emphasize an important point here. If it were not for Frank’s keen eye and innate survival skills, it is highly likely that our platoon would have walked right into that well concealed and camouflaged L-shaped ambush and at a minimum; we’d have been torn to shreds if not annihilated. I came to this conclusion as the intelligence debriefing days later informed us that we had encountered an enemy regiment. That’s like thirty-seven good guys vs. five hundred or more enemy. Not particularly good odds, even for a bunch of cocksure paratroopers. Incidentally, as a result of this action, Frank was awarded a well-deserved Bronze Star with “V” device.” The “V” is for Valor.

For the rest of the day things only got worse. The third squad had again been ordered up and told to make yet another recon of the trail in spite of Frank’s warning of the impending perils that lay ahead. As feared by Frank and I, in no time another fusillade was withered upon our brothers, taking down both the point man and squad leader. The two of them, Private Raymond and Staff Sergeant John L., were then used as live bait as the surviving members took cover. The survivors immediately regrouped and launched a heroic but futile attempt at rescue only to be driven back by an overwhelming force. In the interim the two dying troopers that lay on the trail bled-out.

The enemy had been attempting to surround us for some time and had it not been for some dog-eat-dog fighting, they may have succeeded. The NVA probed us from all directions and never succeeded at figuring out just how “small” in numbers we were. The close in air support certainly hindered their effort as well but came with a price to both sides. A short-round rocket fired from one of our supporting gunships landed in our midst, killing a “cherry,” a newly assigned NCO. This poor guy, Sergeant Honorario, never knew what hit him. He took a large piece of shrapnel to the chest which opened him up like a can of c-rats. Others were wounded as well, including my buddy Frank and my squad leader, Staff Sergeant Grimm. The concussion from the exploding rocket threw us all as if we were nothing more than ingredients in a tossed salad. In the melee, Frank took shrapnel or a bullet to the upper arm and, as a result, he was momentarily incapacitated, much to my chagrin. Our attached squad from 1/9 suffered two casualties as the NVA again attempted to flank our position immediately following the explosion that knocked us down but not out.
Following the deadly blast of friendly fire, those of us from the second squad who were at a minimum, disoriented but unscathed, cleared our heads and waited for the ringing in our ears to stop as we took up a defensive position at the trails head. Void of any cover whatsoever, like a large tree, stump or a culvert, our position were entirely at the mercy of our NVA tormentors.

Virtually pinned down by the NVA machine guns, we waited nervously for a full-on frontal attack. Hundreds, if not thousands of hostile rounds were fired at us all afternoon and miraculously they missed their intended target. “Combat 101,” in regard to any firefight situation with an enemy, dictates the elimination of any crew-served weapons, such as mortars and machine guns, and the North Vietnamese were applying this lesson to the best of their ability. Our task for the remaining daylight hours was to observe the trail and stop any unwelcome intruders from entering our perimeter.

Protected only by my army issued helmet and an M-16 rifle, I positioned myself next to our M-60 machine gunner, Specialist Steve, and laid in anxious wait. With our gunner being to my immediate left, the expended cartridges fired from his weapon would fly past me and land to my immediate right, creating a mess of white hot, hollow cylinders. Incoming rounds fired at us by the NVA swept in motion from right to left, hitting the expended cartridges that were only inches from my head. These empty cartridges then flew up and about, made a tingling sound while airborne and crashed harmlessly back onto the jungle floor. Try as I may count the number of times that I covered my head with my bony left hand in a ridiculous attempt to stop the bullets from penetrating my helmet and head, strained my already challenged mathematical abilities.
After some hours of this torture and the seemingly bleak situation that had paid a visit upon us, I began to believe that we may survive this day, if not only to suffer another. Think positive. The NVA never realized our weakened state but soon came to understand our resolve as we beat back some probes. As hard as it was to believe, the enemy machine guns stuck to their fields of fire. Not once did they ever make an adjustment. I mean had they moved their gun another foot or so in our direction, they may have well brought about an unfavorable ending in our quest for survival. I for one am eternally grateful for their taking a position and sticking to it. No flip-flopping here.

Fortunately for us, headquarters were well aware of our dire situation and ordered a nearby company, from the second battalion of the seventh cavalry to re-enforce us. They air-assaulted into a landing zone in our vicinity late that afternoon. For reasons unbeknownst to us, the NVA withdrew from their fighting positions and disappeared into the vast jungle. As re-enforcements moved in to link up with us, they too lost a couple of good men and in turn killed some the NVA, which were plentiful in numbers around the contested area.

I had been alerted to watch and listen for “friendlies” that were to approach from the same direction the bad guys had been determined to assault us from.  As an end to a nightmare or an answer to a prayer, the point man from the 2/7 Cav, followed by the rest of his company, arrived at dusk, as per schedule. I’ve got to tell you that in all of my life I’ve never been so damn happy to see anyone as I was when I laid eyes on that weary and dirty infantryman. I kick myself time and time again for not getting that troopers name. To say thank you is hardly sufficient. I mean, what can you say? To that trooper and his band of brothers, speaking for the entire recon platoon I say, “Gentlemen, we thank you from the bottom of our hearts.” Call us grateful.

Shortly after our brief rendezvous with the seventh, we licked our wounds, gathered up our dead and wounded and headed for another landing zone for extraction of our casualties, under the cover of darkness. All along the way that evening and early morning, we could hear voices of the enemy who were apparently close by. In the darkness of a fully canopied jungle, we couldn’t see a thing and prayed that the NVA could not hear us. It was anything but easy carrying the dead, in the dead of night, on make-shift stretchers, as the bodies would get caught up on “wait a minute” vines, all but stopping our movement, but we prevailed. At daybreak, hungry, worn and weary, we arrived at our objective, the LZ, where we set up a perimeter and waited for the med-evac chopper to evacuate our casualties.

Being both tired and famished following an especially long day and night, we were left to wonder when the division was going to send us a re-supply chopper. You know, like food and water. That would have hit the spot. Instead, division ordered us to run another recon patrol of the immediate area. I’m convinced those back in the rear calling the shots believed us young troopers to be every bit as fit and hydrated as young camels. Well, we then reluctantly but dutifully moved out on yet another patrol. Surprisingly, at this point of the mission, morale had yet to peak.

Only a little more than a couple of clicks from the LZ, our luck began to change for the better, in the form of Divine Intervention. Yeah, that’s right. Miraculously, a lone chicken sent from Heaven above or maybe Tuy Hoa or even more probable, from the recently ravaged and abandoned village we had just come upon. As we readied to scout out the village, the chicken unwisely let his presence be known by clucking even louder than the refreshing sounds of the nearby enemy-body laden creek where we refilled our canteens. Following a thorough recon of the village, the chicken became our main point of focus. Suffice it to say that the poor scrawny little chicken didn’t stand a chance. As stated previously, life can be good at times. You know, like when you catch a break or a chicken. Call us thirsty. Call us hungry. Call us Vietnam Vets.

If you like to read more about Duke Barrett’s book, then visit him on its website:   http://www.dukesbrokendreams.com/

Here is the address of Duke’s blog which is filled with additional stories like the one you just read:  https://eldorado90.wordpress.com/

Also, Duke has recently put together a great 5-min. slide show video with pictures of the war (some personal) and set to music from Jimmy Ruffin. Click here to see it on YouTube   https://youtu.be/ISLKU_MQ83o/

Thank you for taking the time to view this article!  Don’t miss out on the many other articles, pictures and videos available to you on this website (see below).

If you enjoyed this article and want to learn more about the Vietnam War – subscribe to this blog and get each new post delivered to your email or feed reader.   A directory, to the right of each article, lists all my published posts in chronological order – links are live – just click and read.  If you’d rather sample every post by scrolling through the many pages, then click on the Cherries title at the top of this page to land on the blog’s main page…most recent posts are first – a navigation bar at the bottom of every page aids readers in moving between pages.

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POSTED 9:00 PM, NOVEMBER 11, 2015 on WGN-TV, BY SARAH JINDRA, UPDATED AT 10:10PM, NOVEMBER 11, 2015

About a decade after the Vietnam War ended, cities across the country began hosting “Welcome Home” parades for Vietnam veterans.  while fighting in the trenches of Vietnam, many young Americans saw things they didn’t want to see and did things they didn’t want to do.

The song “We Gotta Get Out of This Place,” by The Animals became their anthem.  And they lived for the moment they got to get back on the plane and leave Vietnam.

“Oh my God, we survived. And when the plane took off, we all cheered. It was a big, big thing,” recalls Vietnam veteran, John Podlaski.

Podlaski is one of the lucky soldiers who made it out.  He was finally able to take a deep breath and return to the country he served.

But he returned to protests and flag burning, aimed not just at the government for its involvement in the war, but at him too.

“It was a heck of an experience or account,” says Podlaski, “to see the tomatoes coming at you, raising their fists and they’re hollering at you.  Everybody was kind of embarrassed. I don’t want to go out and show myself.  To become a Vietnam vet, from that point on, it was kind of a secret. You kind of just took it in the closet and left it. You didn’t want anyone to know.”

Radio personality, Bob Leonard felt the same way when he came back from Vietnam.

“When I came home, people started spitting at me and calling me a baby killer,” says Leonard. “By about the 4^th or 5^th person who said baby killer and spit at me, I had had enough.”

Leonard grew out his hair and moved to Puerto Rico.  For the next 16 years, he denied serving in Vietnam, even after moving back to the U.S.  But that all changed in Chicago on June 13, 1986.

On that day, Leonard agreed to help host a “Welcome Home” parade for Vietnam veterans. Parade organizers in Chicago found out he was a Vietnam veteran and asked him to help host. He agreed and says that day changed his life.

“Everything changed,” says Leonard.  “My whole mindset changed. From that point on, it was OK to be a veteran.”

While some veterans felt the parade was too little too late, 125,000 thought it was just what they needed to finally be thanked and to feel welcome home.

As Leonard hosted, Podlaski marched in the parade.  He later wrote a book about his experience in Vietnam to help others understand what they went through.  Watching the parade broadcast today is still emotional.

“A lot of people didn’t go,” says Podlaski.  “It was 15 years too late. ‘Don’t welcome me home today, because I don’t wanna hear it.’  But for me, I was thrilled to death.”

During the parade broadcast, President Reagan made a statement to those watching, acknowledging the long overdue welcome home. “Clearly the welcome home received by many of our brave men and women who served in Vietnam was less than they deserved.  And that’s putting it mildly. Today, however, Americans are making up for that.”

The scars of war, emotional and physical, were on display that day.  As was the stark reminder, that some Veterans never even got to choose whether to attend a parade.

For more Information on “Cherries,” by John Podlaski: https://cherrieswriter.wordpress.com/

And this is a link to our commercial-free hour-long documentary that aired on most Tribune stations beginning last weekend:  http://salutingourvietnamveterans.com/

IF YOU ARE INTESTED IN VIEWING THE PARADE, SEGMENTS ARE AVAILABLE ON YOUTUBE.  HERE’S THE DIRECT LINKS:

PART 1: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KlOlHExChT8

PART 2: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9z5QMWVBHLs

PART 3: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uWRUJ0PeZ-w

PART 4: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9OpKzFJqRgU

PART 5: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u8mEG3Ffp7M

 Thank you for taking the time to view this article!  Don’t miss out on the many other articles, pictures and videos available to you on this website (see below).

If you enjoyed this article and want to learn more about the Vietnam War – subscribe to this blog and get each new post delivered to your email or feed reader.   A directory, to the right of each article, lists all my published posts in chronological order – links are live – just click and read.  If you’d rather sample every post by scrolling through the many pages, then click on the Cherries title at the top of this page to land on the blog’s main page…most recent posts are first – a navigation bar at the bottom of every page aids readers in moving between pages.

I’ve created a poll to help identify my website audience – before leaving, can you please click HERE and choose the one item best describing you.  Thank you in advance!

Neil Sheehan is a former correspondent for The New York Times, and the author of “A Bright Shining Lie: John Paul Vann and America in Vietnam.”  This article was published by Neil Sheehan – Nov. 13, 2015.

A wounded American soldier returning to the X-ray landing zone in the Ia Drang Valley, South Vietnam, November 15, 1965. Credit Neil Sheehan/The New York Times

A FEW weeks ago, an archivist at The New York Times discovered a small trove of photographs I’d taken 50 years ago while covering the first major clash of the Vietnam War between the American and North Vietnamese Armies. Though I had written about the battle for The Times, and later in my book “A Bright Shining Lie,” I’d completely forgotten about the photographs. Seeing them brought back a cascade of memories of one of my most extraordinary days as a young war correspondent.

It was Nov. 15, 1965, in the valley of the Ia Drang in the wild mountains of the Central Highlands of South Vietnam. That spring, the Saigon government had begun collapsing under the combined blows of the Vietcong guerrillas and the regular North Vietnamese Army units infiltrating down the Ho Chi Minh Trail through Laos. To save his Vietnamese protégés, President Lyndon B. Johnson had launched what became the big American War in Vietnam. The combined military might of the United States — the infantry of the Army and the Marines, the warplanes of the Air Force and the Navy’s carrier fleets — was arriving as fast as it could be assembled.

American soldiers guarding North Vietnamese prisoners near the Ia Drang Valley in South Vietnam, November 15, 1965. Credit Neil Sheehan/The New York Times

The lavish shelling and bombing by the Americans was taking a horrendous toll on the peasantry. Much farther north up the Central Coast, on Nov. 14, I had found a fishing village in which as many as 600 civilians were reported to have been killed by fire from American aircraft and Navy destroyers.

That evening, I telephoned The Times’s Saigon bureau to let them know what I would be writing. Charlie Mohr, the other reporter in the bureau and my boss, told me to head back up to Pleiku, the principal town and major air base in the Highlands, right away. The “Air Cav,” as the Army’s newest division was called, was apparently in a hell of a fight with N.V.A. units near there.

The First Cavalry Division (Air Mobile) was the Army’s revolutionary division. The troops of the Air Cav rode into battle in “slick ship” helicopters escorted by “gunships” fitted with superfast-firing machine guns and “rocket ships” that loosed barrages of 2.75 inch air-to-ground rockets from side-fitted pods.

American soldiers guarding North Vietnamese prisoners in the Ia Drang Valley in South Vietnam, November 15, 1965. Credit Neil Sheehan/The New York Times

Down the coast I hitchhiked through the night of the 14th on transport planes to the port of Qui Nhon, and then over the mountains to Pleiku. Except for some sensible restrictions, such as not writing about future operations, in those years reporters were free to cover the war wherever the fighting took us. There were no control gimmicks such as “embedding” a reporter with a single unit.

I was used to the quiet of the South Vietnamese Army headquarters at night. Pleiku Air Base was bedlam. Radios chattered loudly and the Army’s new CH-47 “Chinook” cargo helicopters clattered down to fetch another load of shells for the artillery that boomed and flashed through the darkness to the south.

The next morning I reached the artillery position about five miles from a clearing where the battle was taking place. Peter Arnett, an old friend and comrade reporter of many battles, had landed in another helicopter a few minutes earlier. The morning was crisp but the gunners were stripped to the waist, slamming shells into howitzers and sending the high explosive hurtling toward the enemy as fast as they could close the breeches and jerk the firing lanyards. “Battalion Rear” headquarters consisted of a major in a tent with a radio tuned to the main battalion radio in the clearing. It was my third year in Vietnam and Peter had been covering war somewhat longer. We had stayed alive by exercising a certain amount of caution. We asked the major what was happening. He said there was a lot of shooting going on at the clearing. We decided to wait five or 10 minutes in the hope there might be a lull. Time up, we went back to the major. Still bad, he said.

David Halberstam (left), Malcolm Browne, and Neil Sheehan—1963.

Peter and I looked at each other. We knew we had to get in there. “Screw it!” we yelled and ran to the nearest helicopter and leapt on. Despite the risk, the Air Cav pilots were continuing to fly ammunition into the clearing and lift out the wounded. The pilots of our helicopters took the machine up to about 2,500 feet to get their bearings on “X-ray,” as the clearing had been code named. The scene below was terrifying, a circle of hell full of bursting artillery shells and the bombs and napalm of the jet fighters that were stacked up over the clearing and called in one after another to swoop down and unload their cargoes of death. The napalm canisters were a handsome silvery color. They tumbled end over end until they hit and burst into flame. One wondered how the Vietnamese could stand it.

War correspondent Peter Arnett talking with a soldier in South Vietnam Oct. 1965. (AP Photo)

Our pilots suddenly dropped down and dashed in over the treetops, “flaring” the rotors as soon as they were in the clearing, which had the effect of braking the machine in midair. Reporters were expected to make themselves useful. Peter and I tossed out the cartons of ammunition and helped to lift in a couple of stretchers with wounded men as a bullet thwacked into the fuselage and others buzzed by our ears through the open doors. Then we leapt out and ran for one of the man-high anthills that rose, like silent sentinels, among the trees at the edge of the clearing.

Lt. Col. Harold Moore Jr., the battalion commander, known as Hal, had established his command post beside one. “By God, they sent us over here to kill Communists and that’s what we’re doing,” he shouted exultantly. Colonel Moore was a tall, blue-eyed Kentuckian who had learned the trade of an infantryman at West Point and during the Korean War. His emotions were soaring at having just broken a three-and-a-quarter hour assault on the perimeter. But the Vietnamese were not gone. The survivors of the assault had hidden in the treetops, in clumps of high elephant grass, and had burrowed into the anthills. Whenever anyone moved, perhaps to carry a wounded man to the clearing for evacuation, one of them would cut loose with a Soviet-designed AK-47 automatic assault rifle and more of Colonel Moore’s men would be killed or wounded before the sniper could be located.

IT always galls me when I hear or read of the men who fought the Second World War as “the greatest generation.” On the first day of the battle, Nov. 14, Colonel Moore assigned his C (“Charlie”) Company the south and southwest sides of the perimeter. They had taken few casualties because the brunt of the assault had fallen elsewhere. None of the officers and men of the company had ever seen serious combat before. Shortly after dawn the next morning, hundreds of North Vietnamese soldiers, in loosefitting khaki fatigues that blended well with the terrain, rose out of the elephant grass and rushed C Company’s foxhole line, seeking to overwhelm it. When the fight was over, Charlie Company had ceased to exist. Of the approximately 100 men who had seen daybreak, fewer than 40 were not wounded. There were gaps in the foxhole line where the dead and wounded lay. But the North Vietnamese attackers never managed to break through that line in sufficient numbers to threaten the battalion position, because the men of C Company, First Battalion, Seventh Cavalry, fought and died like the young lions they were.

They, and so many others who fought in Vietnam, were as great as any generation that preceded them. Their misfortune was to draw a bad war, an unnecessary war, a mistake by American politicians and statesmen, for which they paid.

Here’s the direct link for Neil’s book on Amazon:  http://www.amazon.com/Bright-Shining-Lie-America-Vietnam-ebook/dp/B002ZW7EHS/ref=sr_1_

Thank you for taking the time to view this article!  Don’t miss out on the many other stories, pictures and videos available to you on this website (see below).

If you enjoyed this article and wanted to learn more about the Vietnam War – subscribe to this blog and get each new post delivered to your email or feed reader.   A directory, to the right of each article, lists all my published posts in chronological order – links are alive – just click and read.  If you’d rather sample every post by scrolling through the many pages, then click on the Cherries title at the top of this page to land on the blog’s main page…most recent posts are first – a navigation bar at the bottom of every page aids readers in moving between pages.

I’ve created a poll to help identify my website audience – before leaving, can you please click HERE and choose the one item best describing you.  Thank you in advance!

Here’s another guest article by TJ McGinley “Free Bird”, who gives us a look at his rebellious side while serving in Vietnam.  As an infantry soldier who spent most of his time living in the jungle, periodic stand-downs in a base camp were cherished and offered an outlet for these grunts to rest and blow off steam.  Keep in mind that they are still teenagers and do what boys do every chance they can – but sometimes, they get caught.

In August of 2003, my wife and I attended a reunion of the guys I was with in Vietnam.  Suzanne was a little stunned at the number of people that confronted me with the statement; “I remember you, I was in jail with you.” To her, it sounded as if I spent most, if not all, of my time in Vietnam in a jail cell.

The way the military handled soldiers in a war zone who did something inappropriate was if the perpetrator had a job in the rear they would threaten them with a trip out to the field, which was normally an effective way of keeping “REMFs” (Rear Echelon Military Forces) in line. This acronym referenced those soldiers who had jobs that kept them in the rear areas with the gear.  Combat soldiers often referenced them as Pogues or “Rear Echelon Mother F*ckers.”  When it came time to threaten a Boony Rat, a slang word when referencing infantry soldiers, it didn’t apply since they were returning to the bush anyway within a day or so.  The brass was tasked them with finding a different solution.

They concluded that justice was appropriate to both groups if there were to take away a stripe from the “perp.”  For example, if you were a sergeant the brass would bust you to a corporal, which meant less rank, less money, and less responsibility.

Another roadblock occurred when confronting a perp who was getting out of the Army as soon as he returned to the states.  He could care less about rank, and the threat held no merit.  Now, what?

Their last tactic to punish a rabble rouser of this caliber was to evaluate his personnel file for any recorded misdeeds.  If he were consistently in trouble, no matter how many accolades are noted, they’d pull his medical records and hold on to them, thereby, preventing him from boarding the airplane home.  Now the only way out of the country was to face a Court-Marshal for his misdeeds.

In Vietnam, a soldier in the field did not need rank to have the respect of his comrades; instead, his experience was what mattered.  Of course, you did what your commanders asked of you, but because of your experience, or time in the field, they would do just that – ask.

You couldn’t do much to find trouble in the field.  If you screwed up, your actions could get you killed, and take others with you.  In the bush, you are surrounded by well-armed people that do not want to die because of a screw-up.  So you kept your act together!. However, NOBODY messed with you and gave you a hard time, not even the officers.

Now and then, for one reason or another, you could get out of the field by getting wounded, killed, R&R and so on.  Every so often at the end of an operation, the military would pull the entire unit out of the field and hold what was called a stand-down.

That’s where we went back to the main base camp, put down our firearms, took showers, ate real food, watched movies, and most importantly, tried to get some real sleep on beds with mattresses.

I think I experienced two maybe three of these stand-downs in the 14 months I served in Vietnam.

After spending three months in the jungle, our unit was pulled to the rear, and I experienced my first stand-down.

On the second day, a few of my friends and I decided to visit the nearby town without a pass and see what kind of mischief we could find.  Just before leaving the base camp, one of the guys retrieved an army issue 45 cal. Automatic pistol from his rucksack, handing it to me so I’d have a weapon to carry.  I stuck it into the waistband of my trousers and covered it with my fatigue jacket before leaving.

The Bust

When we got into town, a young boy approached us saying, “MP no find, MP no find.”  We presumed this was hugely important in successfully completing our mission and followed the boy.  He took us to a small house where we sat in the dining area and for the next hour and enjoyed the company of the local ladies.

Not long after we were completely broke, the little boy reappeared in a panic screaming, “MP coming, MP coming.”  Must have been his way of telling us that it was time to leave.  We jumped up and made a dash to the back door and found an MP there blocking the doorway.  It was like a scene from the Keystone Cops; we were falling all over ourselves while changing directions and hurried to the other end of the house.

Once we made it outside to the front yard, we found ourselves surrounded by MPs.  They searched us and confiscated the pistol, then charged us with being AWOL from the base, loitering in a well-known house of prostitution, and possession of a firearm.

As my squad and I sat in a cell, waiting for a representative from our unit to claim us, an MP approached the cell and called my name. He handcuffed me and then led me to his superior’s desk.  The 45 sat on a white piece of paper looking like an object they just pulled out of an archeological dig.  The young, new, totally inexperienced, officer behind the desk asked me if the weapon belonged to me.  I told him it was a loan.  He said that if I had tried to fire the pistol, it would have blown up in my hand.  Being the smartass that I am, I told him to return the weapon, and I’d move to the other side of the room and point it at his head.  If he is correct, I will lose my hand, but if he’s wrong, he will lose his head.  He didn’t see the humor in it, so in addition to the other charges, a charge of insubordination was added under my name.

After about an hour the guard returned to the cell, handcuffed all of us and ordered us all to move out. A young 1^st Lieutenant, we have never seen before, and one of our grunt brothers stood next to the desk.  The grunt said to his accompanied officer, “Sir this is your second squad”!

We all grind a bit. The MPs unhandcuffed all of us then we jumped on the back of a truck and returned to our base camp, two MP’s followed us in a jeep with all the paperwork.

When were returned to Camp Eagle we marched to our company commander’s tent and waited at the entrance until he gave us the word to enter.  Once inside, the MPs officially handed him our Article 15 paperwork. He skimmed through all the reports, one page at a time, then asked, “Is this all?”

The MPs answered with a snappy retort, “Yes Sir”!

Our commander, Tom Kinane, a tall, well-built man, ripped up the paperwork then said in a calm voice, “You’re all dismissed.”

While gathering our personal gear from the MPs jeep, we glared and grinned at the MPs with delight.  They drove somewhat confused, not fully understanding what had just happened.

Let’s Stop in for a Drink

Most all large base camps are comprised of a mixture of military branches–Army Infantry, Navy Seabees, Marines, etc.  Whenever coming to the rear area for a stand down,  we all carried souvenirs of enemy equipment that we collected during the mission, such as NVA belt buckles, bandoliers, helmets – the type of stuff we could take home after our tour. We stashed all the enemy weapons for ourselves then walked through the camp selling this stuff to those soldiers who had never been in the field or even saw dead enemy bodies.  These soldiers who had permanent jobs in the base camps cherished these items and paid top dollar, thereby allowing them to return home with souvenirs and bullshit war stories of their own.  Only one out of every eight Vietnam Vets saw actual combat in the field; that’s why a lot of vets won’t talk about their combat experiences–because they don’t have any!

After one of these selling trips, four of us from Tiger Force walked into a Marine bar to get a drink. Everyone there was spit-shined and polished while we wore our camouflage fatigues, grungy jungle boots, bush hats, and berets.  We carried pistols and knives both hanging from our belts.  I had a Bowie knife on one hip, and a sawed off 4-10 shotgun on the other.  The Marines freaked out when we sat at the bar.  The bartender rang a bell then informed us that we had to buy the everyone there a drink as a penalty for not taking off our hats and wearing firearms in their establishment.

We politely told the bartender where he could go, then exchanged some angry words with several of the other patrons.  Soon everyone in the bar was on their feet but unsure of what to do next since we were the only ones with weapons.  That was until the Marine MPs arrived.

They took us to the brig and never informed us of the charges.  The MPs released us the following morning and to this day, I still don’t know why we had to spend that night in jail.  We did nothing wrong!

Air Policeman

My squad was guarding the perimeter of a firebase during the monsoon rain one day when I asked a medic if he had some fun pills for my nagging headache. He gave me a couple of tablets that didn’t agree with my system. When I reported back later, I had a temperature of 103 and diagnosed with malaria. Before I could crack a smile, I was on a chopper heading for the nearest hospital.

Once there, I was placed in a long barrack with an air-conditioner in every window, and a clean bed sheet. I think they were trying to lower my temperature, I nearly froze to death!  It was very effective.  Even though I loved a clean bed, hot food, round-eyed nurses, and movies every night, freezing all day became rather uncomfortable. When the drugs the doc gave me wore off, and my temperature returned to normal, I was given my walking papers.

On the way back to my unit, I was passing through Bien Hoa Airbase when I decided to go into the Air Force snack bar, where I ran into a high school buddy of mine.  His title was Air Policeman, but all he did was sit in a tower on the air base perimeter, get stoned at night, and pull guard duty during the day. The local VC seldom did anything during the day in that part of the country. So I got a haircut, took out my earring, and became an AP. Swimming pool, tennis court, air-conditioned housing, three flavors of ice cream at dinner, movies every night, this was the life.

I never had smoked marijuana before I got to Vietnam, but in that situation, being stoned was a coping mechanism. In his living quarters on the airbase, my friend had a great stereo system with a high-quality set of earphones and all the music of the time.

It is the first time I’ve listened to music while stoned and found the experience to be like no other.  My daily routine as an AP extraordinaire soon became a habit.  I’d get stoned, put on an album, plug in the earphones, lay down, put a black sock over my eyes, crank up the volume, and come to a perfect understanding of just what the Moody Blues meant by “In Search of a Lost Cord.”  Stones, Beatles, Airplane, Cream, Dylan, Doors, you name it; I fully absorbed their music during this time.  It was paradise! After more than a month, I had a hunch that my unit missed me.  I told my friend that I would return soon and hit the road.  Needless to say, immediately upon my arrival at the base camp I was considered AWOL and sent back out to the field.

The Last Straw

During the last months of my tour in Vietnam, I started hearing about an early-out plan. If a soldier had seven months or less remaining in the service when returning to the States from an overseas tour, that soldier could extend his tour a certain amount of months and then be discharged from the Army immediately after.

I found the only place I could handle the Army’s bullsh*t was in the field while serving in Vietnam.  It was the only place where the lifers didn’t mess with you. You didn’t have to salute, there were no inspections, and soldiers didn’t have to shine boots, or say “yes sir” to anyone.  In other words, it was the one place in the Army where officers, sergeants, and privates alike treated each other with equal respect.

I knew that if I went back to a stateside unit and had to salute officers that didn’t even have a CIB, I’d be spending a lot of time in the brig. A CIB is a Combat Infantry Badge and earned when a soldier has seen combat for more than 30 days.  It’s the most coveted award in the Army and earned the hard way, by going to a combat zone and putting your ass on the line. I’d be hard pressed to salute anyone who hadn’t been in combat.

I signed up for the early-out as soon as I heard about it.  To qualify, I had to extend my Vietnam tour for two additional months, but my anxiety to get out of the Army far outweighed my anxiety to get out of Vietnam.  If I didn’t extend, I’d leave Vietnam as scheduled in April, and spend seven months at some God-forsaken military post as a PFC, then get out of the Army and go home in November, the beginning of winter. With the early-out I’d be home in June, the beginning of summer. It all worked out as planned.

The Getaway

When I left Vietnam, I had no idea what rank I was, as every time I went to the rear, I’d get busted for doing something the military deemed inappropriate.  As punishment, they took away whatever rank I had.  However, when returning to the field, the platoon leader always put me back in charge of a group of men because of my experience and immediately regained the rank I had lost in the rear the day before.

Finally on June 4, 1969, my time in hell ended.  I was in the rear area processing out when a super-striper I had confronted on numerous occasions, told me I was to be court-marshaled for all the petty things and AWOL charges I accumulated during the last fourteen months.  I was a good soldier. I followed orders.  Never ran from a fight or left a buddy behind. Therefore, I didn’t deserve this punishment with only a few days left in the military.

I proceeded with my out-processing only to find that the Army kept my medical records and wouldn’t add me to the flight manifest to go home.  So, I went to the aid station where, to my surprise, the officer in charge was one of my previous commanding officers in the field. I informed him of my predicament, and he immediately signed and released my paperwork. My flight wasn’t scheduled to leave for a couple days, so I visited my AP buddy at the airbase and caught up on much-needed sleep.

Soon I was on the Freedom Bird and bound for the states. I earned a certain respect from those who served with me in the bush. Out there, we were continuously stressed, anxious and fought the enemy almost every day. Those periodic trips to rear areas are scheduled so we could relax and unwind after spending several weeks on a mission. Those things that we considered “luxuries” are things that those who live in the rear usually took for granted.  I always wondered how they would react if the shoe were on the other foot.  I was never court-marshaled and arrived in the States with a good record and given an Honorable Discharge, which I deserved.

Back in the World

After traveling for umpteen hours, we finally touched down at an Army base in Oakland California.  It was early June, the first thing I did was to call home, telling my family that I was back in the states,  alive and well, and would be home soon.

One of my Nam buddies, Mike Morris, lived in San Francisco.  He’d pick up his Vietnam buddies after they checked out of the post, letting them stay at his house for a couple days and showing them the town before going home.

When I finished with the paperwork that officially declared me Honorably Discharged from the United States Army, I called Mike, and he informed me that he’d be there within fifteen minutes.

I stepped outside of the building and waited just inside the gate for my buddy.  Just then, a sharply dressed MP approached me and informed me that if I wore a dress uniform, the top button of my shirt had to be buttoned, and my tie needed straightening per regulations. The MP wore only one ribbon on his chest, The National Defense ribbon, which everyone earns after 90 days in the military. In other words, he obviously hadn’t been anywhere or seen anything, but I had less than five minutes left in the service and knew that now was not the time to start any trouble.  I said O.K. and straightened my tie.

Even though I had the paperwork stating I was officially out of the Army, as long as I was inside that post, I was still in their clutches, but once I passed through that gate, “that’s all she wrote”.

Three minutes later Mike pulled up next to the gate.  I picked up my small gym bag walked off the premises, gave Mike a brotherly hug, tossed my bag in the back seat and opened the passenger door. Before getting in, I said that I had one more thing to do. I turned and yelled to the MP, “Hey!”, He turned and stared at me. I took off my tie and threw it at him then gave him and the entire military a snappy final one fingered salute.  Then I got into Mikes car, and we took off into the free world.

TJ McGinley Tiger Force Recon 1/327 – 101st Abn. Div. Vietnam ’68-’69

Author TJ McGinely is an active member of War-Stories

Thank you for your service and Welcome Home Brother!  Watch for more articles by this author in the coming weeks.

Thank you for taking the time to view this article!  Don’t miss out on the many other stories, pictures and videos available to you on this website (see below).

If you enjoyed this article and wanted to learn more about the Vietnam War – subscribe to this blog and get each new post delivered to your email or feed reader.   A directory, to the right of each article, lists all my published posts in chronological order – links are alive – just click and read.  If you’d rather sample every post by scrolling through the many pages, then click on the Cherries title at the top of this page to land on the blog’s main page…most recent posts are first – a navigation bar at the bottom of every page aids readers in moving between pages.

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Interesting facts about the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier and the sentinels of the United States Infantry Regiment “Old Guard”

How many steps does the guard take during his walk across the Tomb of the Unknowns and why?
     – 21 steps.  It alludes to the 21 gun salute, which is the highest honor given any military or foreign dignitary.
How long does he hesitate after his turn north or south to begin his return walk and why?
    – 21 seconds, for the same reason as answer number one.
Why are his gloves wet?
     – His gloves are moistened to prevent his losing his grip on the rifle.
Does he carry his rifle on the same shoulder all the time, and if not, why not?
     – No, he carries the rifle on the shoulder away from the Tomb. After his march across the path, he executes an about face and moves the rifle to the outside shoulder to signify that the Guard stands between the Tomb and any possible threat.

How often are the guards changed?
     -Guard changes are dictated by the season.  During the summer months, the Guard is changed every 30 minutes, and during the winter, the Guard is changed hourly.  This practice continues 24 hours a day, and 365 days a year.

 What are the physical traits of a guard limited to?
     -For a person to apply for guard duty at the tomb he must be between 5 foot 10 inches and 6 foot 2 inches and his waist cannot exceed 30 inches.
How many sets of remains are interred within the tomb?
     – Until 1998, the tomb held the remains of four unknown soldiers.  One each from WWI, WWII, Korea and Vietnam.  The remains of the Vietnam Unknown were exhumed May 14, 1998. Based on mitochondrial DNA testing, DoD scientists identified the remains as those of Air Force 1st Lt. Michael Joseph Blassie, who was shot down near An Loc, Vietnam, in 1972. It has been decided that the crypt that contained the remains of the Vietnam Unknown will remain vacant.   The crypt cover has been replaced with one that has the inscription “Honoring and Keeping Faith with America’s Missing Servicemen, 1958-1975.”

When the Tomb Guard completes his march across the mat, in which direction does he turn and face?
     – The Guard will always turn to the east – facing the monument.

How often is the rubber mat replaced?
     – The mat is usually replaced twice per year: before Memorial Day and before Veterans Day. This is required because of the wear on the rubber mat by the special shoes worn by Tomb Guards. The sentinels have metal plates built into the soles and inner parts of their shoes to allow for a more rugged sole and to give the signature click of the heel  during maneuvers. The sentinels wear sunglasses because of the bright reflection from the marble surrounding the Tomb and the Memorial Amphitheater.  On the ground not covered by the mat, a wear pattern in the tile can be seen that corresponds to the precise steps taken during the changing of the guard. On the mat itself, footprints worn in by standing guard are also visible.

How many sentinels have been female?
     – There have been over 630 Tomb Guards awarded the badge since 1958 when we started counting. There are hundreds more from the year 1926 when the Army started guarding the Tomb. The 3rd US Infantry (The Old Guard) is the unit that has been given the duty of guarding the Tomb.  It was given this sacred duty in 1948. The Old Guard was –and still is — considered a combat unit. As an Infantry unit, females were not permitted in the ranks for many years. It wasn’t until 1994 that females were permitted to volunteer to become a Sentinel when the 289th Military Police Company was attached to the Old Guard. The MP branch is a combat support unit and includes females.In 1996, SGT Heather Johnson became the first female to earn the Tomb Guard Identification Badge. She volunteered for duty in June 1995 and earned her badge in 1996.  However, SGT Johnson was not the only female Sentinel. Since then, there have been two additional female Sentinels awarded the Tomb Guard Identification Badge. SGT Danyell Wilson earned her badge in 1997, and SSG Tonya Bell received hers in 1998.

Other requirements of the Guard:

They must commit to one-year in guarding the Tomb, live either on Ft. Meyer or off base, and in the barracks under the monument for the 24 hours he is assigned to guard duty.  He cannot drink alcohol while on duty, swear in public or disgrace the uniform or the tomb in any way.

The Tomb Guard Identification Badge, first awarded in 1957, is an honor for which a guard qualifies by “flawlessly performing his duty for several months” and passing a test, not something simply handed out to everyone who serves for a given period of time.

The shoes are specially made with very thick soles to keep the heat and cold from their feet. There are metal heel plates that extend to the top of the shoe in order to make the loud click as they come to a halt.  There are no wrinkles, folds or lint on the uniform.  Guards dress for duty in front of a full-length mirror.

The first six months of duty a Guard may do whatever they want (including watching TV) during their off-duty hours. But since any soldier wishing to become a sentinel must undergo rigorous training, including several hours a day of marching, rifle drill and uniform preparation, and every tomb sentinel is expected to be completely versed in the history of both the tomb and of Arlington National Cemetery (including knowing how to find the graves of all the prominent person buried in the cemetery), they don’t necessarily have a lot of free time to devote to recreational activities.  

All off duty time is spent studying the 175 notable people laid to rest in Arlington National Cemetery.  A guard must memorize who they are and where they are interred.  Among the notables are:  President Taft, Joe Lewis [the boxer] and Medal Of Honor recipient Audie Murphy –the most decorated soldier of World War Two and Hollywood fame.

The Sentinels Creed:

My dedication to the sacred duty is total and wholehearted.

In the responsibility bestowed on me never will I falter.

And with dignity and perseverance my standard will remain perfection.

Through the years of diligence and praise and the discomfort of the elements, I will walk my tour in humble reverence to the best of my ability.

It is he who commands the respect I protect, his bravery that made us so proud.

Surrounded by well meaning crowds by day, alone in a thoughtful peace of night, the soldier will be in honored glory rest under my internal vigilance.

Walking the mat

There is a meticulous routine that the guard follows when watching over the graves. The Tomb Guard:

Marches 21 steps south down the black mat laid across the Tomb.
Turns and faces east, toward the Tomb, for 21 seconds.
Turns and faces north, changes weapon to outside shoulder and waits 21 seconds.
Marches 21 steps down the mat.
Turns and faces east for 21 seconds.
Turns and faces south, changes weapon to outside shoulder and waits 21 seconds.
Repeats the routine until the soldier is relieved of duty at the Changing of the Guard.

Changing of the Guard

The guard change is very symbolic but also conducted in accordance with Army regulations. The relief commander or assistant relief commander, along with the oncoming guard, are both required for a guard change to take place. The relief commander orders the guard being relieved to “pass on your orders” to the oncoming guard. The guard being relieved will say to the oncoming guard, “Post and orders remain as directed.” The oncoming guard’s response is always, “Orders acknowledged.”

During changes when the public is witnessing the ceremony, the commander will inform the public that the ceremony is about to take place and that those in attendance should remain “silent and standing” throughout the entire event.

More interesting facts about the Tomb of the Unknown itself:

The marble for the tomb of the unknowns was furnished by the Vermont Marble Company of Danby, Vermont.  The marble is the finest and whitest of American marble, quarried from the Yule Marble Quarry located near Marble, Colorado and is called Yule marble.  The marble for the Lincoln Memorial and other famous buildings was also quarried there.

The tomb consists of seven pieces of rectangular marble:

Four pieces in the sub base weigh approximately 15 tons;
One piece in base or plinth weighs approximately 16 tons;
One piece in die weighs approximately 36 tons;
One piece in cap weighs approximately 12 tons;
Carved on the east side (the front of the tomb, which faces Washington, DC) is a composite of three figures, commemorative of the spirit of the Allies of World War One.
In the center of panel stands Victory (female).
On the right side, a male figure symbolizes Valor.
On the left side stands Peace, with her Palm branch to reward the devotion and sacrifice that went with courage to make the cause of righteousness triumphant.
The north and south sides are divided into three panels by Doric pilasters. In each panel is an inverted wreath.
On the west, or rear, panel (facing Amphitheater) is inscribed: HERE RESTS IN HONORED GLORY AN AMERICAN SOLDIER KNOWN BUT TO GOD.

The first Tomb of the Unknown Soldier was a sub base and a base or plinth.  It was slightly smaller than the present base.  This was torn away when the present tomb was started August 27, 1931.  The Tomb was completed and the area opened to the public 9:15 AM, April 9, 1932, without any ceremony.

Cost of the Tomb: $48,000

Sculptor: Thomas Hudson Jones

Architect: Lorimer Rich

Contractors: Hagerman & Harris, New York city

Inscription: author unknown

The Third Infantry Regiment at Fort Myer has the responsibility for providing ceremonial units and honor guards for state occasions, White House social functions, public celebrations and interments at Arlington National Cemetery and standing all very formal sentry watch at the Tomb of the Unknowns.

The public is familiar with the precision of what is called “walking post” at the Tomb.  There are roped off galleries where visitors can form to observe the troopers and their measured step and almost mechanically, silent rifle shoulder changes.  They are relieved every hour in a very formal drill that has to be seen to be believed.

Some people think that when the cemetery is closed to the public in the evening that the show stops.  First, to the men who are dedicated to this work, it is no show.  It is a “Charge of Honor.”  The formality and precision continued uninterrupted all night.  During the night time, the drill of relief and measured step of the on duty sentry remained unchanged from the daylight hours. 

To these men, these special men, the continuity of this post is the key to honor and respect shown to these honored dead, symbolic of all unaccounted for American Combat dead.  The study rhythmic step in rain, sleet, snow, hail, heat and cold must be uninterrupted.  Uninterrupted is the most important part of the honor shown.

When Hurricane Isabel came through this area it tore the hell out of everything.  They had thousands of trees down, power outages, traffic signals out, roads filled with downed limbs and “gear adrift” debris, flooding, and the place looked like it had been the impact area of an offshore bombardment.

The Regimental Commander of the U.S. Third Infantry sent word to the night time sentry detail to secure the post and seek shelter from the high winds, to ensure their personal safety.

THEY DISOBEYED THE ORDER!

During winds that turned over vehicles and turned debris into projectiles, the measured step continued.  One fellow said, “I’ve got buddies getting shot at in Iraq who would kick my butt if word got to them that we let them down.  I sure as hell have no intention of spending my Army career being known as the damned idiot who couldn’t stand a little light breeze and shirked his duty.”  Then he said something in response to a female reporter’s question regarding silly purposeless personal risk… “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.  It’s an enlisted man’s thing.”  God bless the rascal…In a time in our nation’s history when spin and total BS seem to have become the accepted coin-of-the-realm, their beat hearts – the enlisted hearts as we all knew and were so damned proud to be a part of –that fully understand that devotion to duty is not a part time occupation.  While we slept, we were represented by some damn fine men who fully understood their post orders and proudly went about their assigned responsibilities unseen, unrecognized and in the finest tradition of American Enlisted man.  Folks, there’s hope.  The spirit that George S. Patton, Arleigh Burke, and Jimmy Doolittle left us… survives.

On the ABC evening news, it was reported that because of the dangers from Hurricane Isabel approaching Washington, DC, the military members assigned the duty of guarding the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier were given permission to suspend the assignment.  They refused, “No way, sir!”

Soaked to the skin, marching in the pelting rain of a tropical storm, they said that guarding the Tomb was not just an assignment; it was the highest honor that can be afforded to a service person.  The tomb has been patrolled continuously, 24/7, since 1930.

Very, very proud of our soldiers in uniform!

Much of the above information obtained from Wikipedia, tombguard.org, and Snopes.com

In closing, here is a video showing the changing of the guard:

 Thank you for taking the time to view this article!  Don’t miss out on the many other stories, pictures and videos available to you on this website (see below).

If you enjoyed this article and wanted to learn more about the Vietnam War – subscribe to this blog and get each new post delivered to your email or feed reader.   A directory, to the right of each article, lists all my published posts in chronological order – links are alive – just click and read.  If you’d rather sample every post by scrolling through the many pages, then click on the Cherries title at the top of this page to land on the blog’s main page…most recent posts are first – a navigation bar at the bottom of every page aids readers in moving between pages.

I’ve created a poll to help identify my website audience – before leaving, can you please click HERE and choose the one item best describing you.  Thank you in advance!

“Looking at the pictures put me right back into the jungle as if I were a 21-year-old soldier again”

When Christopher Gaynor returned home from the Vietnam War, on Feb. 6, 1968, he didn’t leave with memories alone. He had spent his 13 months in the field artillery creating pictures, too. Untrained but inspired by combat photographers, he brought one of the era’s ubiquitous Brownie cameras—before investing $94 in an Asahi Pentax SLR—to record his experience. To develop each roll of film, he took it to the Post Exchange on the base camp, they mailed it to Kodak for processing, Kodak mailed it back to Vietnam and, finally, Gaynor mailed the pictures home.

But the world he encountered when he got back to the United States wasn’t exactly ready to look at them, and neither was he. The anti-war movement was strong and attitudes toward veterans were, he found, hostile. Before the year was up, he decided to leave the country. He spent the following years in England and Spain, and didn’t return until the year the war ended, which happened 40 years ago this month on April 30, 1975.“I put [the photos] in a box, a box from Lavoris mouthwash. I didn’t look at them, I put them in the box, sealed it up, and they stayed in that box until 2007,” Gaynor, now 70, recalled. “I didn’t want to deal with it.”

Even after his return to the United States, decades passed before he decided that he should do something with that box. In 2007, he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease, which he thinks is related to his exposure to Agent Orange during the war, and facing an illness motivated him to think about his legacy. At the time, the VFW post on Vashon Island, Wash.—where Gaynor still lives with his husband—was sponsoring a Boy Scout troop; one of the troop members wanted to scan Gaynor’s photos as part of his Eagle Scout project. Though Gaynor admits that his expectations for the results were low, he went along with the idea.

To say that he’s glad he did would be an understatement.

“I looked at them and they all came alive again,” he said. “It was completely overwhelming. All my buddies from 40 years previously [were] looking at me from these pictures, even the guys who weren’t with us anymore. Looking at the pictures put me right back into the jungle as if I were a 21-year-old soldier again.”

Gaynor notes that most of his photos, some of which can be seen above, aren’t of the dramatic scenes familiar from war photography. Rather, he captured the off times, with soldiers relaxing, playing ball, hanging out. It was portraiture, not fighting scenes, that brought back the memories.

And it wasn’t just a matter of remembering moments long buried. After opening the box, Gaynor began to investigate his own memories, digging out the letters he had sent home. He started to talk about his experiences and began to get more involved in the VFW and the American Legion. (He is the only openly gay officer of the American Legion of whom he knows, he said.) He reached out to younger veterans who had been in Iraq and Afghanistan. He established relationship with the families of his friends who had died in Vietnam. He became a consultant on the Vietnam-reenactor documentary In Country, which is out on video on demand on April 28. Though he does not want to make any money from the images, he tried to get his exposure for his photos in order to help other veterans connect with their memories, self-publishing a book of his photos and letters from the war.

The memories and images that had been buried for decades became the opposite of hidden, motivating Gaynor to reorganize his life around a new mission.

“It’s a difficult emotional stress [to revisit that time] but I had to do it,” he says. “Finding the pictures completely changed my life. There are no words to describe how it affected me. They’ve continued to reward me and live on.”

Infusion, 1967: “Soldiers of the 9th Infantry Division (red, white and blue unit patches) based at Bearcat (Camp Martin Cox) are trucked to a waiting Caribou aircraft for the flight to their new units.” All quotes in this caption and the ones that follow come from photographer Christopher Gaynor.

Mama San, 1967: “A term used by GIs in Vietnam for any older Vietnamese woman. In this case she was supervising ‘sandbag dollies,’ younger Vietnamese women who were working at the base camp in Dau Tieng.”

Floating Poker Game, 1967: “My buddy and fellow Team Chief, Sgt. Dick Jackson (holding beer can) separates the troops from their pay.”

Kiwis and Aussies, 1967

 

Change Up, 1967: “‘Mummy’ at bat while my buddy Perry (back to camera) looks on.”

Convoy, 1967: “My buddy Sgt. Dick Jackson (with glasses and camera) checks out the crush of villagers as our convoy slows to a crawl. Anyone in this crowd (including children) might toss a grenade into a truck.”

Bunker, 1967: “Troops of the 77th Field Artillery, 25th Infantry Division hunker down in a partially completed bunker to escape the mayhem of 3,600 of our own 105mm Howitzer rounds light off at knee level in all directions. The enemy was watching all this, but could not attack us.”

The Odd Couple, 1967: “My buddies Lynch and Cork share a morning ritual at Camp Bearcat (Camp Martin Cox).”

LZ, 1967: “Bell UH-1 Iroquois (Huey “Slick”) helicopter makes a quick troop drop at a Fire Support Base near the Cambodian border without touching down.”

Operation, 1967: “2nd Battalion, 77th Field Artillery, 25th Infantry Division assembles at the Dau Tieng airfield in preparation for a major combat operation near the Cambodian border.”

The Wasteland, 1967: “9th Infantry Division soldier burns the remaining twigs after our Bearcat Base Camp was sprayed heavily with Agent Orange to kill the jungle vegetation and then bulldozed into a desert wasteland.”

Triple Deuce, 1967: “Troops of the 2nd Battalion, 22nd Infantry Regiment (mechanized) get squared away to move on a Search and Destroy mission into “The Rubber” (the Michelin Plantation).”

Richard Thomas Jackson, 1967: “My ‘brother’, my buddy, my friend. Dick was killed in action January 6, 1968, he was just 20 years old.”

Núi Bà Đen, 1967: “The Black Virgin Mountain looms in the background as our convoy of the 2nd Battalion, 77th Field Artillery Regiment, 4th Infantry Division crosses the Saigon River heading North West to Loc Ninh to support our infantry units from an artillery Fire Support Base.”

Caribou, 1967: “Troops of the 9th Infantry Division prepare to board a C-7 Caribou at Camp Bearcat for the flight to Dau Tieng base camp in III Corps.”

Thank you, Christopher Gaynor, for sharing this article.  Thank you for your service!  Welcome Home Brother!

Anybody else have a similar experience?  Let us know in the comment section below.

US Vietnam Veteran Died With No Family to Lay Him to Rest.  Just Watch What Happens on the Day of His Funeral.  Posted in TheBlaze.com on Dec. 18, 2015  by Dave Urbanski

James Beavers, a staff sergeant with the U.S. Army during Vietnam, died a few days before Thanksgiving at the age of 74.

Sadly, no relatives of his could be found after three weeks of searching.

While a Ft. Wayne, Indiana, funeral home — D.O. McComb and Sons — came through big and provided services and a burial with full military honors Thursday, the question remained: Who would show up?

Well, once word regarding Beavers’ passing made its way across the social media universe, WANE-TV reported that thousands showed up to pay their respects at the funeral home.

And very few attendees ever met Staff Sgt. Beavers.

Veteran David Alderman, 38, traveled 900 miles from Moore, Oklahoma: “Heard it on the Internet and just paying my respects to another veteran,” he told WANE.

“I found it across Facebook, and I felt I needed to be here because it’s a brother in arms,” Ryan Masten, a veteran from Battle Creek, Michigan, told the station. “Doesn’t matter what war or who it is — it’s family,”

While mail was coming in from faraway places like Hawaii and even Nigeria, the Indiana Patriot Guard got together and stood shoulder-to-shoulder outside the chapel, keeping a solemn watch.  

Click the link below to watch the Indiana early afternoon news video:

http://up.anv.bz/latest/anvload.html?key=eyJtIjoiTElOIiwicCI6ImRlZmF1bHQiLCJ2IjoiNzUzMjMyIiwicGx1Z2lucyI6eyJkZnAiOnsiY2xpZW50U2lkZSI6eyJhZFRhZ1VybCI6Imh0dHA6Ly9wdWJhZHMuZy5kb3VibGVjbGljay5uZXQvZ2FtcGFkL2Fkcz9zej0xeDEwMDAmaXU9LzU2NzgvbGluLldBTkUvbmV3cy9sb2NhbC92ZXRlcmFucy1mdW5lcmFsLWRvZXNudC1tYXR0ZXItd2hhdC13YXItb3Itd2hvLWl0LWlzLWl0cy1mYW1pbHkvZGV0YWlsJmNpdV9zenM9MzAweDI1MCZnZGZwX3JlcT0xJmVudj12cCZvdXRwdXQ9eG1sX3Zhc3QyJmFkX3J1bGU9MSJ9fSwiYW5hbHl0aWNzIjp7InBkYiI6IjYyMzk5NTkyIn0sIm9tbml0dXJlIjp7InByb2ZpbGUiOiJMSU4iLCJhY2NvdW50IjoiZHBzZHBzd2FuZSxkcHNnbG9iYWwiLCJ0cmFja2luZ1NlcnZlciI6ImxpbnR2LjEyMi4ybzcubmV0In19fQ

“Doesn’t matter that he doesn’t have any family members that are known. What matters is that we’re here today to show him that respect,” Senior Chaplain for the Indiana Patriot Guard Pat Brase told WANE. “We’re honored to be here. People take time out of their days to do this. There are still a lot of patriotic people in this country and we’re glad to stand … shoulder-to-shoulder with them today.”

What’s more, Brase told the station he believes Beavers’ story can help other veterans who may be struggling since their time in the service.

“I think it comes from … how the Vietnam veterans were treated when they came home,” Brase added. “There’s folks that are still trying to heal from their experience … And in some way I hope that this can be a healing experience for some of them today.”

Inside the funeral home the line stretched, down a hallway and through the main seating area, with veterans from far and wide approaching Beavers’ flag-draped casket and offering salutes.

“When one falls, it’s good to come around and recognize them,” Jack Van Burk, who serves in Security Forces for the Air Force, told WANE.

Aimmie Jenkins and her husband both serve in the military, and she brought her 11-year-old son, Andy, to Beavers’ service because she wanted him to see the outpouring of support for himself.

“We have each other’s backs. We’re each other’s battle buddies. We’re going to be here for each other regardless of the situations,” Jenkins told WANE. “Whether it’s a stick of butter, a T-shirt that you need to borrow, or a funeral for a person you don’t know, we’re going to be there for you.”

Richard Griswold was one of the few who attended Thursday’s services who actually met Beavers — and his encounter a few years back left a lasting impression.

“I kind of had a hunch it would turn out this good,” Griswold told WANE. “He was an awesome fella that I can remember, spoke to me real kind and everything. It makes my life whole and complete knowing that he did what he did for our country.”

A representative from the Vietnam Veterans of America during the funeral home service perhaps said it best.

“It was said James didn’t have a family,” he noted. “Based on the audience here today, I believe he does have a family — and that is all of us.”  

Click on the link below to watch the Indiana late day news video for a final wrap-up:

http://up.anv.bz/latest/anvload.html?key=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

Thank you for taking the time to view this article!  Don’t miss out on the many other stories, pictures and videos available to you on this website (see below).

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Tunnel rats were US, Australian and Newzelander soldiers who went inside Viet Cong (VC) tunnels to kill any VC inside, gather any Intel, recover arms and finally demolish the tunnels by planting explosives.Their unofficial motto was ” Non gratum anus rodentum” in Latin. It meant ” Not worth a rat’s @ss”. Tunnel ratting required nerves of steel

Originally the tunnels were started during the war against the French, but which were rapidly expanded upon when the American’s arrived. They were constructed by volunteer village laborers using simple hoe’s and baskets. The Laterite clay in which the tunnels were dug has a dull reddish appearance and dries rock hard during the dry season. During the wet season it is very soft and much easier to work. Because of the very nature of the Laterite clay’s ability to dry rock hard it made a very good (if a somewhat difficult substance to work) soil in which to carve out a tunnel.

The passages themselves were not cut in dead straight lines, rather they were made with corners that had between a 60 – degree and a 120 – degree angle to them. In other words, the corners were constructed with no less than a 60 – degree angle and no more than a 120 – degree angle. This made shooting in a straight line impossible and helped to deflect explosive blasts from grenades that might be thrown down.

 

The tunnel systems (where the water table permitted) had several levels, each level was separated by a watertight trap door which would seal the rest of the system against gas, flooding, etc. The trap doors themselves were virtually undetectable and could fool a person into believing that the tunnel finished in a dead end, when in reality it led into a huge system of other passages. These passages would lead to underground ammo dumps, kitchens, air raid shelters, hospitals, store rooms, workshops, latrines, and even theatres for the performances of political plays.

The VC also dragged the bodies of their dead comrades underground in order to intern them in temporary graves when it became impossible to bury them above ground due to the presence of American/Australian troops. Once they had been dragged underground they were buried in the fetus position in the tunnel walls and covered with a thin layer of clay.

The common practice to deny tunnels to the enemy in US forces was to seal the entrances or throw tear gas inside to force the occupants of the tunnels out.

When the US forces started a massive search and destroy operation against VC (Viet Cong) in the Bo Ho woods, Northwest of Saigon, they suffered serious casualties but the enemy usually disappeared when the US forces gave a chase. It then appeared that the VC used complex tunnel systems for movements and ambushes.

Sergeant Sweetheart Green of the Australian army gave the VC a chase by entering their tunnels.

Upon detecting a tunnel entrance, soldiers would check the surrounding area of any booby traps and disarm them if found and a grenade would be thrown inside the tunnel entrance.

Then the point man would be lowered head first into the tunnel held by his feet by his comrades. He would be holding a pistol in his right hand and a flashlight in left hand. He would see for any enemy and feel the walls and ground for any booby traps and mines. He would be secured by a rope so that he may be pulled out in case of any emergency. The second man would then come inside.

The point man would constantly look for booby traps and enemy activity while the second man would note the soil and amount of overburden which would be later required in demolition calculations.

They would sense for the enemy and alert to movements and sounds like cocking of weapon or sound of grenade pin being pulled.

The primary mission was to kill the enemies and troops were instructed not to fire 5-6 shots in a row as it would tell the enemy that tunnel rats were about to reload.

They would then search the tunnel for S2 intelligence, maps and documents and would recover any arms and ammunition found in tunnels.

After searching the tunnel and getting out, they would get in again with C4 explosive charges which would be placed at tunnel bends and at strong points in calculated amounts. After getting out and at a safe distance, they would detonate the charges and hence demolish the tunnel.

One can’t imagine the feeling of crawling into a tiny hole, not knowing who is in there, where it leads and what dangers lie beyond each turn. We have the utmost respect and admiration for those bad a$$ enough to have been tunnel rats!

Below is an interview with a tunnel rat that quickly will help you realize the reality they faced.

If you would like to read another article on this blog relating to Tunnel Rats then click on the following link:  http://wp.me/pRiEw-op

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 Long before Chris Kyle penned “American Sniper,” Carlos Hathcock was already a legend.

There was no more welcomed sound of to a wounded soilder in Vietnam than the whop-whop-whop of the “dustoff Huey” coming to get them out of hell. Anyone that has ever flown in a Dustoff Huey will never forget that heavenly sound

Without a doubt the Dustoff Medics witnessed more of the brutality of war than anyone. It took men with incredible courage to face the quantity of wounds and injuries they faced many times in a day. Shot at, sniped at, under mortar and heavy arms fire, they ran through mine fields to get to the wounded. Some of the most heroic men in the war.

The Vietnam War posed a unique logistical challenge to the military leaders. The war was fought in triple canopy jungle terrain and bad weather, there were constant guerilla attacks and the front line changed from day to day. Often vehicles traveling on the roads were subject to landmines, ambushes and poor road conditions, and some of the areas where heavy fighting took place were so remote there were no roads. All of these factors posed one major problem for the military. How do they transport the wounded safely and in a timely manner to the aid stations and hospitals for proper medical care? The Army’s medical branch decided to revisit an idea that came about in the Korean War – a helicopter ambulance corps. An idea that was implemented with so much success in Vietnam that in most cases a wounded soldier would be in a hospital receiving medical care within 35 minutes of being wounded.

In April of 1962, the 57th Medical Detachment (Helicopter Ambulance) arrived in Vietnam with five UH-1 “Huey” helicopters. They took the call sign Dustoff. Over time the number of medevac detachments grew in Vietnam until the entire country had coverage and Dustoff became the universal call sign for all medevac missions.

A Dustoff crew consisted of four people: two pilots, a medic and a crew chief. Usually, one pilot would fly the helicopter while the other acted as the aircraft commander. The commander would navigate, monitor all of the radio transmissions, talk to the unit requesting the medevac and would take over flying if the pilot were injured. The medic kept the helicopter stocked with the necessary medical supplies and the crew chief would maintain the helicopter in top working condition. They would both load the patients onto the helicopter and the medic would administer any necessary medical treatment on the way to the hospital, often with the help of the crew chief. The medic and crew chief would stay with a particular helicopter while the pilots were interchangeable between helicopters. These crews saved many lives and were universally respected by all of the soldiers in the war.

Here is a selection of images of the Dustoff men:

Lieutenant Tuell and Capt. Howard Elliot pilot a helicopter in Dustoff operation, May 1970

This story originally posted on “War History Online, Nov. 5, 2015

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 Guest article by Nathan Nguyen

During the North Vietnamese Army’s surprise 1968 Tet Offensive, a fierce battle raged in the city of Hue. Pitting North Vietnamese Army regulars and Vietcong against South Vietnamese Army troops and U.S. Marines, the month-long battle ended in defeat for the attackers. This photograph from February 6, 1968, shows D.R. Howe treating the wounds of Private First Class David A. Crum of H Co., 2nd Bn, 5th Marines.

The corpsman in the picture is Doc Dennis Howie of Hotel 2/5. He was later medevaced after as his squad leader puts it, “mind went south”. The man being treated is David Crum. This was the first time he was wounded. He was wounded two more times before the end of the battle. The man in back talking on the radio is T.J. Walker. After the squad leader, Lance Corporal Robert Meadows was medevaced on Feb 3, he took command of the squad from 1st Platoon Hotel 2/5 until L.Cpl Meadows returned on Feb. 11

The Battle of Huế (also called the Siege of Huế), which took place from January 30 until March 3, 1968 was one of the bloodiest and longest battles of the Vietnam War. In February 1968 in the South Vietnamese city of Huế, eleven battalions of the Army of the Republic of Vietnam, two U.S. Army battalions, and three understrength U.S. Marine Corps battalions, for a total of 16 battalions, defeated 10 battalions of the People’s Army of Vietnam and the Viet Cong.

To start off the Vietnamese New Year —Tết— the Viet Cong and North Vietnamese Army (NVA) took the South Vietnamese, U.S. and allies mostly by surprise when they attacked by night various command and control centers in the northern half of South Vietnam.

Rear Adm. Kenneth L. Veth, Commander, U.S. Naval Forces, Vietnam (COMNAVFORV), remembered during a 1977 interview, “The first thing we knew about it was when we were all waked up (sic) in the middle of the night, and all hell broke loose in the way of gunfire and explosions.”

“Almost every spot that was an open piece of ground was under fire,” said U.S. Marine (then) Captain Myron Harrington, in a 1981 interview with the WGBH Educational Foundation. “You were almost in the face-to-face, eyeball-to-eyeball confrontation with the NVA. (…) As a result of their being so entrenched and utilizing the concrete type of buildings that we were running across, it required us to bring maximum fire power at our disposal to eliminate them.” Capt. Myron Harrington, added: “Street fighting was an entirely new experience for everyone in that company. Our last Marine Corps experience in street fighting had been in 1950 in Seoul, Korea. There were very few Marines left on active duty and those who were would have been too senior to participate in the Battle of Hue.“

Interview from a vet during the battle for Hue. He was the one who medevaced Doc Howie (the medic in the hue photo)…

Hotel 2/5 was one of the last companies to arrive in Hue. They had gone to Hue by truck on Route 1. They were close to Hue when the lead truck hit a box mine. Meadows vividly remembers that there was a Lt. that just came from Khe Sanh and on his first day back was sent with the convoy to Hue. He flew up into the air and fell back down through the bed of the truck. Meadows took his squad around and didn’t realize that the Lt. was there until he came around the truck. Meadows stated that the flames were too intense, and he knew the Lt was dead, so he continued. Once arriving in Hue, Hotel 2/5 set up CP on the second floor of Hue University in the library. Meadows remembers clearing out the chemistry room since he “shot up all of the beakers.” Once in the library, Capt. Christmas told him that he wanted him to take his squad down to a yacht club.
Being a hillbilly from Kentucky, he asked, “What in the hell is a Yacht Club?”

04 Feb 1968, Hue, South Vietnam — 2/4/1968-Hue, South Viet Nam: U.S. Marines keeping low because of intense sniper fire battle communist units which seized two-thirds of the ancient imperial Capital. The Marines were pinned don behind this wall near the old citadel and radioed for support. U.S. spokesmen reported that leathernecks hauled down the North Vietnamese flag after seven days of fighting and recaptured the city. — Image by © Bettmann/CORBIS

Christmas replied a building where they had the boats and stuff. Just go straight down Le Loi St. Meadows didn’t want to take his squad because they were low on men, so he asked for volunteers. About ten guys volunteered, and they started stripping off all nonessentials, just ammo, and grenades. He also tried to motivate his men.

In his words, he said, “All right, you first five sons of bitches are gonna die. You next five sons of bitches are going to get wounded. I’m the only one who’s gonna make it down that street.”

Just as they were about to go, Christmas called Meadows upstairs and told him to delay. I believe it was the next morning, and they were about to advance again when Christmas called Meadows upstairs again and said that they were going to postpone the attack and that his squad was to support Foxtrot Co. during their assault on the treasury building.

Again Meadows asked, “What the hell is a treasury?”

Christmas simply replied, “Where they make all of the money Meadows.”

Christmas wanted them to get on the roof, but there weren’t any staircases, so they shimmied up about 20 ft using lead pipes to get up on top of the roof. They used ropes to bring up 3.5 in rocket launchers and for an hour, they rained fire on the treasury which was to their bottom left. Meadows estimated that the roof was about 80 feet long and 8 ft wide. Well after awhile, two black guys in the squad, Pal and Smith, were firing an RPG through a crack in the wall about 3 ft wide. An NVA got an RPG right through the crack, and it exploded in the corner, blinding both men and cutting one of their throats. He pulled them off to the side where they lowered them down using ropes. He turned around just in time to see his RTO get shot, so he helped him out of his radio and lowered him down. Then a Lt.Myers told him to get the civilian off the roof. Apparently there was a Marine Sgt. who was a photographer and later helped write several Vietnam films. As he was moving toward the photographer, a mortar round landed and nearly knocked him off the roof, but it just knocked him out and put some shrapnel into him.

When he woke up, he was strapped to a stretcher and was being taken off a helicopter at Phu Bai. In the operating room they cut off his fatigues and by looking at his reflection, he saw that he head a head wound. He said that if he hadn’t been knocked out, he would’ve refused the medevac. So just about as they were going to operate on him, the NVA started hitting the base with everything they had. 120s, 122 rockets, etc. The nurses and doctors ran off leaving him still strapped to the stretcher on the table along with several other men. He saw Pal rip out the IVs from his arm and run butt naked to one of the bunkers. He said he couldn’t blame him.

As he was lying there, he wondered how he his mama was going to believe that he died in a hospital, strapped to a stretcher unable to move. Out of nowhere, a corpsman came back (by the way he would love to know his name) and started putting people under beds and on the floor. He went over to Meadows and flipped him over onto the floor with the stretcher still attached to him. He said that the attack lasted for about 20 minutes. That was how he ended February 3, 1968.

Parts of this article were also published on Argunners.com under the title, “Behind the Battle of Hue Photo” on Feb. 7, 2016. 

This article is not considered an all-inclusive account of the battle for Hue.  However, in fairness, I’d like to point out that in addition to the Marines and 1st ARVN Division fighting against an estimated 14 battalions of enemy soldiers within the city, the 1st and 3d Brigades, 1st Cavalry Division, and the 2d Brigade, 101st Airborne Division also participated in the battle for Hue during the 1968 Tet Offensive.

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Two generations ago, Americans went to a strange land to fight a strange war. In many ways this war’s rules were much like the French & Indian War more than 200 years before. In this war, a small group of soldiers met a people who would have been at home in the Americas of 1750. These people were the Dega (Montagnard).

Montagnards are the indigenous people of the Central Highlands of Vietnam, and translates to mean “Mountain People” in French, a carryover from the French Colonial period in Vietnam.  This group of people seldom had contact with the Vietnamese people in the lowlands and few even understood their customs or spoke the language.  In 1958, the five prominent tribes united against the Vietnamese, but more for political reasons than militarily.

They were not Vietnamese. They differed in language, culture and religion, and pushed out of the fertile lowlands into the central Highlands.  In these mountains, they wanted freedom to continue their hunting and primitive farming lifestyle. They wanted to be left alone. This couldn’t and didn’t happen.

Their homelands were of strategic value and these people were excellent warriors. Each of the warring sides sought their allegiance but the Montagnards chose to ally themselves with the Americans. and fought side-by-side for more than ten years.

The RVN government agreed to let the U.S. Special Forces (Green Berets) start training the Montagnard tribal militias in village defense and border patrolling.  What the SF soldiers found in the mountains of Vietnam was a group of people unparalleled in fierce fighting skills, personal courage, and loyalty to allies.

By December 1963, 43,000 Montagnard defenders guarded the area around the first camp, Buon Enao, from the Viet Cong, while 18,000 Montagnards were enlisted in mobile strike forces, which were deployed by air to spots where conflict broke out.  In 1962, the population of the Mountain People in the Central Highlands was estimated to number as many as one million.

In 1967, the Viet Cong slaughtered 252 Yards in the village of Dak Son, home to 2,000 Highlanders, known as the Đắk Sơn massacre, in revenge for their support and allegiance with South Vietnam.

American Vietnam vets have given endless accounts of the Montagnards’ heroism and loyalty. One such veteran was George Clark, a former staff sergeant in 5th Special Forces Group during the Vietnam War, who also went on to serve as a master sergeant in the Marine Corps. “My team was getting lit up in the middle of a hot zone,” Clark recalled, “and I had gone down, as I had taken two bullets. And the ’Yards [short for Montagnard] on my team jumped on my body to protect me from getting wounded. They are the bravest, most loyal, and fiercest fighters I have ever seen. …”

Clark was one of a number of SF soldiers assigned to work with the Montagnard tribesmen, assigned to one of the mixed SF/Montagnard reconnaissance teams. “The first ’Yards I met in 1967, well, they kind of looked at me like I was a tourist; they literally taught me, instead of the other way around,” Clark recalled. “They knew what was dangerous in the jungle, they knew what to eat in the jungle, it was a give and take situation but first I had to earn their respect. We on the recon teams would go in ahead of the battalions … and flush out the enemy … so in essence we were the bait.”

It didn’t take Clark long to earn the loyalty of his Montagnard charges. He and his recon unit had gotten themselves into a couple of heated skirmishes on the northern RVN border, had been picked up by a Navy patrol boat, and were on their way out of the area when they ran into another enemy ambush. The crossfire panicked the young patrol boat helmsman, causing him to hit an embankment and send a highly respected Montagnard leader flying onto shore into the middle of a minefield. Without thinking Clark leapt out of the boat, determined to retrieve his teammate, and managed to make his way back to the boat, getting both himself and the Montagnard warrior back alive.

“I had to disarm numerous mines as I went,” Clark recalled, “inching my way over multiple trip wires, all while bullets were whizzing past, as by now the enemy had pretty good positioning on us, as you can imagine. When word of the rescue got out, the ’Yards just went berserk; they couldn’t believe one of us had went in and saved one of them. When the ’Yards see you do something like that. … They will follow you to hell and back. And you only get that by standing beside them and going into the fight with them. …”

Clark was one of many special operations warriors who fought alongside the formidable Montagnard people during the Vietnam War. All of them remember the Montagnards with respect and friendship

During these years, the Americans who knew the Montagnards formed strong attachments to them as individuals and as a people. When these Americans, both military and civilian, left Vietnam, their attachment to these people came home with them, but the “Yards” were left behind. They were left alone to face the full fury of the North Vietnamese Army.

In 1975, thousands of Yards fled to Cambodia after the fall of Saigon to the North Vietnamese Army, fearing that the new government would launch reprisals against them because they had aided the U.S. Army.  Roughly 200,000 Montagnard people perished by 1975.

According to the political anthropologist Walker Connor, The SRV Vice Minister of Culture proclaimed in 1976: “It is necessary to eradicate all outmoded customs while gradually bringing the new culture to each ethnic minority. The state has the duty to  bring new progressive culture to these people in order to build a new culture with socialist objectives and Vietnamese National Characteristics”. All Bibles and reading materials written in the Montagnard languages were burned after the Communist took over. The trival languages could not be taught in schools and today many Montagnard children only peak Vietnamese. Ancestral homelands have been seized, religion is prohibited and traditinal Montagnard villages dont exist any longer.

The Americans who worked with the “Yards” in the Highlands understood the price they would pay, and as a result they were the first to welcome them to their new life in America. Those Montagnards who finally made it to the security of America had fought their way through Cambodia and Laos to camps in Thailand. Very few of those who left Vietnam made it to safety so a welcoming celebration was in order.

The U.S. military resettled some Yards in the United States, primarily in North Carolina, but these evacuees numbered less than 2,000. In addition, the Vietnamese government has steadily displaced thousands of villagers from Vietnam’s central highlands, to use the fertile land for coffee plantations.  Today, the Montagnard population in the Vietnam Highlands is estimated at 500,000.

Information for this article was collected from “Defense Media Network”, Wikepedia, YouTube and “Save the Montagnard People” (STMP), a nonprofit organization of veterans and others who try to bring these refugees into settlements in North Carolina.  More info. on STMP can be found here:  http://montagnards.org/home

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The Medal of Honor is the highest military decoration presented by the United States government to a member of its armed forces. The recipients must have distinguished themselves at the risk of their own life above and beyond the call of duty in action against an enemy of the United States. Due to the nature of this medal, it is commonly presented posthumously.

During the years of the Vietnam War (1955 – 1975) the United States awarded 257 Medals Of Honor to soldiers from that conflict: 171 U.S. Army, 15 U.S. Navy, 57 U.S. Marine Corps, and 14 U.S. Air Force.

In 2011, NBC anchor Brian Williams collected 117  stirring videos about the Medal of Honor recipients that featuring excerpts from their oral histories along with archival footage; his collection spans WWII, Korea and Vietnam and are all combined on YouTube.  I’ve pulled all the videos relating to the Vietnam War (56) and have them posted below and in one place – none are longer than 12 minutes.  I’ve listed them chronologically by date of action even though the MOH was awarded at a later date…in the case of “Too Tall” Freeman – a much later date!  Please keep in mind that this list is not all inclusive and I am not aware of the criteria used to record these interviews.  The attached archival footage is used as a visual aid and may or may not represent the action taken by the recipient.  All in all, there’s several hours of viewing and a chance for you to learn more about these Heroes.

To start, I’ve included the author’s short introduction video about the MOH which also includes previews of those recipients in the collection.  Enjoy!

On July 6, 1964, Captain Roger Donlon rallied his men and led the defense of his camp, despite serious wounds, while under fierce attack near Nam Dong, South Vietnam. Donlon was awarded the Medal of Honor on December 5, 1964—making him the first recipient of the Medal during the Vietnam War.

Second Lieutenant Walter “Joe” Marm, Jr., led an attack against a heavily fortified enemy force on November 14, 1965, personally knocking out several positions in the Ia Drang Valley, South Vietnam. He was presented with the Medal of Honor on December 19, 1966, and three years later volunteered for a second tour of duty in Vietnam.

Major Bruce Crandall made over 20 flights into intense enemy fire during a battle in the Ia Drang Valley, South Vietnam, in November 1965, evacuating 70 wounded and delivering ammunition. The battle was later dramatized in the film We Were Soldiers. On February 26, 2007, Crandall received the Medal of Honor.

On November 14, 1965, Captain Ed Freeman made repeated flights into the Ia Drang Valley under intense fire to bring in supplies and evacuate the wounded. Due to a statute of limitations being lifted, Freeman was awarded the Medal of Honor on July 16, 2001.

On December 18, 1965, Harvey “Barney” Barnum, Jr., took control when his unit commander was killed in Quang Tin Province, South Vietnam, directing a counterattack and a withdrawal. He was presented with the Medal of Honor on February 27, 1967, but it would take years for the fragments of that day to come together in his memory.

Army medic Alfred Rascon, himself injured, tended to the wounded while under devastating fire in Long Khanh Province on March 16, 1966. On February 8, 2000, after a reevaluation of his recommendation prompted by the men in his battalion, Rascon received the Medal of Honor.

On March 28, 1966, Navy corpsman Robert Ingram tended to wounded Marines and held off the enemy under intense fire in Quang Ngai Province, South Vietnam. With the help of the men of his company, who insisted that his recommendation be reevaluated, Ingram received the Medal of Honor on July 10, 1998.

On June 19, 1966, just two weeks after arriving in Vietnam, First Lieutenant Ronald Ray led his unit in a rescue of trapped soldiers in the Ia Drang Valley, South Vietnam. He then covered his men from an exploding grenade. He spent six months recuperating from his injuries, and was presented with the Medal of Honor on May 14, 1970.

In July 1966, Staff Sergeant John McGinty III covered a Marine withdrawal in Quang Tri Province, South Vietnam. Although wounded, he defended the troops against an overwhelming enemy force. President Johnson presented McGinty with the Medal of Honor on March 12, 1968.

In July 1966, Captain Robert Modrzejewski led a defense against a fierce enemy counterattack in Quanq Tri Province, South Vietnam, calling in artillery and air on his own position. He was awarded the Medal of Honor for his actions on March 12, 1968.

After his unit was ambushed near the Demilitarized Zone on July 24, 1966, Lance Corporal Richard Pittman destroyed numerous enemy positions. He was awarded the Medal of Honor on May 14, 1968.

On August 8, 1966, Captain Howard Lee came to the rescue of a besieged Marine unit near Cam Lo, South Vietnam. Though wounded himself, he took charge of the unit and led a successful defense. On October 25, 1967, he received the Medal of Honor.

In November 1966, Captain Robert Foley led a fight to rescue a besieged American unit, single-handedly destroying several enemy positions near Quan Dau Tieng, South Vietnam. As a result of the recommendations of his soldiers, Foley was awarded the Medal of Honor on May 1, 1968.

Private First Class John Baker, Jr., destroyed six enemy bunkers and saved eight comrades during a firefight to relieve a besieged unit in Tay Ninh Province, South Vietnam, on November 5, 1966. On May 1, 1968, President Johnson awarded him the Medal of Honor.

When his fellow pilot crashed in the A Shau Valley on March 10, 1966, Major Bernard Fisher knew that a rescue chopper wouldn’t reach him in time, so Fisher called off the rescue and landed on the debris-littered runway himself. He made it back with the other pilot and, on January 19, 1967, became the first airman in Vietnam to receive the Medal of Honor.

Specialist Charles Hagemeister took charge of his platoon after an ambush in Binh Dinh Province, South Vietnam, on March 20, 1967, tending to the wounded and destroying enemy positions. On May 14, 1968, Hagemeister was awarded the Medal of Honor.

On March 21, 1967, First Sergeant David McNerney, himself seriously wounded, took command of his unit under intense fire and directed artillery and air support during an attack in Polei Doc, South Vietnam. President Johnson presented him with the Medal of Honor on September 19, 1968.

On April 19, 1967, Major Leo Thorsness destroyed at least one enemy plane while leading a desperate rescue attempt of a downed crew member. Two weeks later he was shot down and taken prisoner over North Vietnam. After six years of captivity and torture, Thorsness received the Medal of Honor on October 15, 1973.

Trying to break through a Vietcong stranglehold near Duc Pho, South Vietnam, on April 25, 1967, Specialist Ken Stumpf charged forward to rescue three of his men pinned down by intense fire. He was awarded the Medal of Honor by President Johnson on September 19, 1968.

On May 2, 1967, after his unit came to the rescue of another unit that had been ambushed, Private First Class Leonard Keller seized the initiative, destroying enemy positions near the Ap Bac Zone in South Vietnam. Keller was awarded the Medal of Honor at the White House on September 19, 1968.

On November 18, 1967, Private First Class Sammy Davis, wounded and under intense enemy fire, crossed a river to rescue three wounded soldiers near Cai Lay, Vietnam. On November 19, 1968, Davis received the Medal of Honor. The footage from that day as well as Davis’s citation were used as source materials for the film Forrest Gump.

On November 9, 1967, First Lieutenant James Taylor pulled wounded men from exploding vehicles while establishing an evacuation site and a resupply effort near Que Son, South Vietnam. Taylor was awarded the Medal of Honor on November 19, 1968.

After coming to the rescue of an ambushed American unit on December 15, 1967, Specialist Allen Lynch dragged wounded soldiers to safety while under fire near My An, Binh Dinh, South Vietnam. On May 14, 1970, President Nixon presented Lynch with the Medal of Honor.

Under intense fire in early 1968, Staff Sergeant Drew Dix led the liberation of Chau Phu, rescuing indigenous forces and a U.S. nurse. He was presented with the Medal of Honor by President Johnson on January 16, 1969—making him the fourth recipient from his small hometown of Pueblo, Colorado.

Dustoff helicopter pilot Patrick Brady made multiple evacuations of wounded soldiers in bad weather and intense fire near Chu Lai, South Vietnam, on January 6, 1968. He received the Medal of Honor on October 9, 1969.

On January 8, 1968, helicopter door gunner Gary Wetzel was seriously wounded when his chopper was shot down near Ap Dong An, South Vietnam, and he was hit by a homemade grenade. Despite his injuries, Wetzel destroyed a key enemy position while evacuating the wounded. He received the Medal of Honor from President Johnson on November 19, 1968.

On January 10, 1968, Army medic Clarence Sasser, himself injured, moved from wounded soldier to wounded soldier in a fierce firefight in the Mekong Delta, South Vietnam. The Medal of Honor was presented to him by President Nixon on March 7, 1969.

On January 31, 1968, at the beginning of the Tet Offensive, Chief Warrant Officer Frederick Ferguson flew his helicopter through intense fire to rescue trapped Americans in Hue, South Vietnam. He was awarded the Medal of Honor on May 17, 1969.

Under heavy fire on February 22, 1969, Specialist George Lang led his squad in destroying several enemy positions attacking the American force in Kien Hoa Province, South Vietnam. Lang’s spine was severed by shrapnel during the attack, leaving him a paraplegic. He was awarded the Medal of Honor on March 2, 1971.

In March 1968, Captain Paul Bucha personally directed the successful defense of his besieged unit near Phuoc Vinh, South Vietnam, until they could safely withdraw. He received the Medal of Honor on May 14, 1970.

Although seriously wounded, First Lieutenant Jack Jacobs dragged 13 fellow soldiers to safety after an ambush in Kien Phong Province, South Vietnam, on March 9, 1968. He was awarded the Medal of Honor on October 9, 1969

Captain James Livingston personally led a Marine assault against a heavily defended enemy on May 1, 1968, overrunning their positions in Dai Do, Vietnam. Livingston was awarded the Medal of Honor on May 14, 1970.

On May 2, 1968, after three days of intense fighting in the village of Dai Do, Vietnam, Captain Jay Vargas rescued a fellow Marine and dragged his wounded battalion commander over a hundred yards to an evacuation point, firing at the enemy as he went. He received the Medal of Honor on May 14, 1970

On May 12, 1968, Lieutenant Colonel Joe Jackson flew his transport aircraft into a besieged Special Forces camp at Kham Duc, South Vietnam, rescuing three combat controllers. President Johnson awarded the Medal of Honor to Jackson on January 16, 1969.

On May 16, 1968, Navy corpsman Donald Ballard threw himself on a grenade to save the wounded men he was treating in Quang Tri Province, South Vietnam. Thankfully, the grenade had a defective fuse and only exploded when, after a few moments without an explosion, he threw it into the air. Ballard received the Medal of Honor on May 14, 1970.

Staff Sergeant Nicky Bacon led assaults on numerous enemy bunkers to relieve a unit under fierce attack near Tam Ky, South Vietnam, on August 26, 1968. Bacon received the Medal of Honor from President Nixon on November 24, 1969.

While on long-range reconnaissance patrols deep into enemy territory on November 26, 1968, Special Operations helicopter pilot James Fleming rescued a surrounded patrol in Cambodia under heavy fire. Fleming received the Medal of Honor at the White House on May 14, 1970.

Despite serious wounds, on December 28, 1968, Sergeant First Class Robert Howard directed his Special Forces troops against a superior enemy force in South Vietnam. Howard received the Medal of Honor from President Nixon on March 2, 1971.

On January 11, 1969, First Lieutenant Harold Fritz repelled an enemy ambush under withering crossfire near Quan Loi, South Vietnam, leading the defense until reinforcements arrived. On March 2, 1971, Fritz received the Medal of Honor.

While seriously wounded, First Lieutenant Wesley Fox led his company in a direct attack against a superior enemy force in the A Shau Valley, South Vietnam, on February 21-22, 1969. He received the Medal of Honor on March 2, 1971.

Despite serious wounds, Lieutenant Joseph “Bob” Kerrey led his Navy SEAL team on a daring attack into enemy territory on March 14, 1969 near Nha Trang Bay, South Vietnam. Kerrey was awarded the Medal of Honor on May 14, 1970, and went on to become the governor of Nebraska and, later, a U.S. senator

On June 15, 1969 Lieutenant Thomas Kelley’s riverine boats were attacked in Kien Hoa Province, South Vietnam. Despite being seriously wounded, he continued to direct the battle. President Nixon awarded Kelley the Medal of Honor on May 14, 1970.

Under fire in A Shau Valley, South Vietnam, on July 11, 1969, Specialist Gordon Roberts destroyed three enemy bunkers while relieving a pinned-down unit and evacuating wounded. He received the Medal of Honor on March 2, 1971.

On October 2, 1969, dustoff helicopter pilot Michael Novosel made repeated trips without air cover or fire support to save 29 wounded soldiers under constant enemy fire in Kien Tuong Province, South Vietnam. On June 15, 1971, he was awarded the Medal of Honor.

On February 10, 1970, Specialist John Baca dove on a grenade thrown near his firing position in Phuoc Long Province, South Vietnam, saving his fellow soldiers. Baca received the Medal of Honor on June 15, 1971. He returned to Vietnam in 1990 and worked alongside former enemy soldiers to build a United States–Vietnam friendship clinic.

On March 11, 1970, Staff Sergeant Allan Kellogg, Jr., was commanding a 14-man squad in Quang Nam Province, South Vietnam. After covering a grenade that exploded and seriously wounded him, he resumed control of his men and led them to the Marine company they had been awaiting. He received the Medal of Honor on October 15, 1973.

Special Forces medic Gary Beikirch treated wounded indigenous and U.S. soldiers under intense fire in the Kontum Province, South Vietnam, on April 1, 1970. He was presented with the Medal of Honor on October 15, 1973.

Sergeant First Class Gary Littrell took charge of a South Vietnamese ranger unit on April 4, 1970. For the next four days, he directed its defense and evacuation under fire in Kontum Province, South Vietnam. President Nixon awarded him with the Medal of Honor on October 15, 1973.

On March 23, 1971, Specialist Michael Fitzmaurice jumped on an enemy sapper charge in Khe Sanh, South Vietnam, saving the lives of his fellow GIs. He then continued to fight with serious wounds. He was hospitalized for the next 13 months, but on October 15, 1973 he traveled to the White House, where he was awarded the Medal of Honor.

On March 31, 1971, First Lieutenant Brian Thacker covered the withdrawal of his unit after a massive enemy attack in Kontum Province, South Vietnam, calling artillery in on his own position. He was cut off from his comrades and remained hidden for the next eight days without food or water. On October 15, 1973, President Nixon presented him with the Medal of Honor.

Staff Sergeant Jon Cavaiani organized and led an aggressive defense when his force came under fierce attack near Khe Sanh, South Vietnam, on June 4-5, 1971. He evaded capture for 11 days, but was eventually taken as a POW. When he was released in 1973, he heard that he had been recommended for the Medal of Honor. It was awarded to him on December 12, 1974.

In April 1972, Navy SEAL Thomas Norris led a daring rescue effort to retrieve downed American airmen in Quanq Tri Province, South Vietnam. When the rescue was finally declassified, Norris’s actions were reviewed and he was awarded the Medal of Honor on March 6, 1976.

On October 31, 1972, Navy SEAL Michael Thornton was on a mission near the Cua Viet River Base in South Vietnam. In the course of a five-hour firefight, Thornton, himself injured, carried two wounded comrades to safety. On October 15, 1973, Thornton received the Medal of Honor. One of his injured comrades, Lieutenant Thomas Norris, received the award three years later.

Shot down on a secret mission during the Vietnam War, Major George “Bud” Day was captured and resisted severe torture as a POW in the “Hanoi Hilton” from 1967 to 1973. Three years after his release, on March 6, 1976, Day was presented with the Medal of Honor along with fellow POW Admiral James Stockdale.

During eight years of imprisonment in North Vietnam, including three years of solitary confinement, Captain James Stockdale was a symbol of defiance, organizing the other POWs and refusing to serve as a tool for Vietnamese propaganda. Stockdale received the Medal of Honor three years after his release, on March 6, 1976.

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In August, 1970, when I served with the 25th Division Wolfhounds outside of Dau Tieng near the Black Virgin Mountain, our company once spotted a blond caucasian male with a squad of NVA soldiers. He was hatless and wore green fatigues but we couldn’t spot an ammo vest or weapon. We didn’t fire at him thinking that he may be a prisoner(?) and didn’t want to hit him so we lit up those behind him.  However, when the led started flying, he didn’t try to escape his captors(?), and instead, took off running with them. I’ve later heard that Russia had sent over military advisors to North Vietnam, but I seriously doubt any of them had ventured that far south and actually accompanied a ground unit. Never did find the blonde guy – dead or alive and God knows we looked for him.   Anybody witness or hear of something similar?  Who was this mysterious White Cong , White VC, or Super Charlie?

***

Another of the unsolved stories of the Vietnam War has to do with persistent reports that two Americans, one Caucasian and one dark-complexioned — nicknamed Salt and Pepper — were seen on many occasions operating with PAVN forces in I Corps.

Reports of Salt and Pepper span several years, are focused in a fairly small area of I Corps, and all reports are quite similar.  The consistency of these reports is enough to convince US intelligence that something was going on there.  I was never part of any of the work done on Salt and Pepper.  Most of that was done during the war and, when I arrived in DIA, there was only the file (a large file) and we were not working on it, though I did read through it.

The bottom line is that there was never any firm identification established of Salt and Pepper.  Most reports come from members of US combat units who report that, in the midst of a firefight, they observed a “black guy and a white guy” with the PAVN.  Others report seeing only the white guy, others only the black guy.  Some reports claim that one or the other of Salt and Pepper called out.   People who claimed to have seen Salt and Pepper were shown photographs of missing Americans.  While many guys picked out photos, there was no consistency to the selected photos sufficient to identify one guy as Salt or Pepper.

The reports consistently identified:

Salt as white; 5 feet 10 inches to 6 feet; dark hair; medium to slender build.

Pepper as African-American or Hispanic; 5 feet 6 inches or so; black hair; medium build.

So, who were Salt and Pepper?

Could have been American deserters.

Could have been French colonial troops or Legionnaires.  There were (are) some of those who stayed in Vietnam after the French withdrawl

Could have been from some third country serving as observers or advisors.

Other theories?

***

In looking through the internet, I’ve been unsuccessful in finding any information to support either of the above theories.  I did find that of over 4,000 deserters during the Vietnam War Era, only 249 soldiers actually deserted while in-country.  Many of them have come forward, but some remain as MIA.  When amnesty was declared, many of these former soldiers turned themselves in.  Dozens have chosen to remain in other countries outside of the U.S. since receiving citizenship during that time.  Yet a handful remain hiding within the U.S..  A few have been found and charged, the latest, a man in the state of Georgia, who was arrested while filing for his social security pension and Medicare.  Personally, I will never forgive any of them!

Here is a copy of the newspaper article referencing our experience with the blonde soldier:

Vol 5 No. 31                TROPIC LIGHTNING NEWS                August 17, 1970

Caucasian Seen With Foe

By SGT DAN DAVIS

FSB LYNCH – A male blonde Caucasian was spotted among a group of enemy soldiers by the Wolfhounds of Alfa Company, 1st Battalion, 27th Infantry near here recently.

As the point element of Charlie Company, a scout dog and handler from the 66th Scout Dog Platoon, approached a small clearing, the animal alerted to the presence of the enemy.  The team moved to the edge of the clearing and spotted two enemy moving away from them and slightly across their path.

The handler opened fire and wounded one of them, causing him to drop his AK-47 and run into the woods.
Following heavy blood trails and numerous other visual signs, the Wolfhounds spotted another group of six to eight NVA soldiers – this time with an unusual addition.

One of the men was a blonde Caucasian.

“I was ready to fire,” said Staff Sergeant Joseph Burnett of Tryon, N.C., who was near the front of the Wolfhound element.  “But I saw this blonde guy in the middle.  “They were in line and heading away from us, about to go into the woods,” Burnett continued.  “I figured the guy must be a prisoner, and I didn’t want to shoot him.  So I engaged those behind him.  He didn’t seem to try to escape but ran with the rest of the NVA into the woodline where we lost them.”

Along with the one rifle, the enemy left behind five rucksacks containing medical supplies and clothing.
The identity of the stranger remains a mystery.

***

Information for this article obtained from:

MIA Facts site – http://www.miafacts.org/aa.htm

Tropic Lightning News – http://www.25thida.org/TLN/tln5-31.htm

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If you enjoyed this article and wanted to learn more about the Vietnam War – subscribe to this blog and get each new post delivered to your email or feed reader.   A directory, to the right of each article, lists all my published posts in chronological order – links are alive – just click and read.  If you’d rather sample every post by scrolling through the many pages, then click on the Cherries title at the top of this page to land on the blog’s main page…most recent posts are first – a navigation bar at the bottom of every page aids readers in moving between pages.

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Bruce Fletcher’s oil on canvas “Long Tan Action.”

In 1965, Australia already had a presence in Vietnam, but under US control. The 1^st Royal Australian Regiment (RAR) had served as the 3^rd Battalion of the American 173^rd Airborne Brigade, which created tensions. Wanting greater control, Australia sent over a Task Force on 14 June 1966. These joined up with the 1^st RAR after having seen action in Malaya.

The R&R arriving at Tan Son Nhut Airport in 1966

A major point of contention was that the Australians were not used to the attrition warfare that Americans preferred. Believing that the guerrilla tactics they had mastered in the jungles of Malaya would be more efficient, they set up base in the province of Phuc Tuy because it was a well-known Viet Cong stronghold.

Phuc Tuy also had a port that would allow them to ship troops in and out. And after a reconnaissance of the area, it was decided that the terrain would be ideal for the veterans of the Malayan Campaign.

The site they chose was at Nui Dat, a hill that commanded the center of the province. Its location ensured that if the VC wanted to get to the rest of the populace, they would first have to pass through the Australian position.

The Australian base at Nui Dat in Phuc Tuy Province

In charge of the Task Force was Brigadier David Jackson. To secure their position and to ensure they knew friend from foe, Jackson imposed a 4,000-meter exclusion zone around the base called Line Alpha.

This meant expelling all the locals within the zone so that if they did encounter any Vietnamese, they’d know they were dealing with the VC. And to make sure the residents stayed out, all villages within the exclusion zone were destroyed.

By August 1966, the base was barely three months old and still not entirely readied. Knowing this and hoping to dislodge this very inconveniently located enemy base the VC attacked.

Brigadier Oliver David Jackson

The Australians had picked up VC radio transmissions, but sweeps of the surrounding area found nothing. Just before midnight on August 16, Nui Dat was attacked by mortar fire and recoilless rifles. The Australians responded with counter-battery fire. The firing continued till the next morning then stopped.

The location where the VC had fired from was discovered by a sweep of three companies. Though abandoned, they did find clothes and bloodstains, proving that their return fire had hit some targets.

The Australians, now feeling secure in their new base, flew in a rock band into Nui Dat on August 18. At 11:15 AM that same day, D Company left the base toward the rubber plantation at Long Tan some 2,500 meters away, reaching it at around 1 PM to relieve B Company. After having lunch together, B Company returned to base, while a small detachment of D Company left the campground to patrol the area.

It should be understood that the VC are different from the North Vietnamese Army. The former were a guerrilla force based in South Vietnam who were sympathetic to the communist cause, many of whom wore the traditional black clothing of farmers. The NVA, however, were North Vietnamese professional soldiers who wore green uniforms.

 

To the left are actors in NVA uniforms. To the right is a depiction of a VC guerilla in black.

At around 3:40 PM, the detachment came across a group of six to eight Vietnamese men wearing green uniforms. They didn’t see the Australians till Platoon Sergeant Bob Buick fired, hitting one. The rest wisely scattered.

Though the encounter was reported to base, the Australians didn’t immediately realize what they were up against. They were no longer just facing the VC 275^thRegiment and the VC D445 Provincial Mobile Battalion, they were now up against at least one NVA battalion (as of 2015, the Vietnamese government remains secretive about the details).

VC soldiers of the D445 Battalion

Shortly after resuming the advance, at 16:08 the platoon came under small-arms and rocket-propelled grenade fire from a flank after drawing ahead of the other platoons and was isolated. Pinned down, they called for artillery support as a monsoon rain began, reducing visibility. Beginning as an encounter battle, heavy fighting ensued as the advancing battalions of the Viet Cong 275th Regiment attempted to encircle and destroy the Australians. After less than 20 minutes more than a third of 11 Platoon had become casualties, while the platoon commander was killed soon after.

Their base responded by heavily shelling the VC positions, but Air support was out of the question. Nor did those at Nui Dat want to call on the Americans. They still didn’t understand that the VC and the NVA were starting to flank D Company from different sides as they made their way toward the base.

10 Platoon moved up on the left in support but was repulsed. With D Company facing a much larger force, 12 Platoon tried to push up on the right at 17:15. Fighting off an attack on their right before pushing forward another 110 yd they sustained increasing casualties after clashing with several groups moving around their western flank to form a cut-off prior to a frontal assault.

Opening a path to 11 Platoon yet unable to advance further, they threw smoke to mark their location. Nearly out of ammunition, at 18:00 two UH-1B Iroquois from No. 9 Squadron RAAF arrived overhead to resupply D Company. Meanwhile, the survivors from 11 Platoon withdrew to 12 Platoon during a lull, suffering further losses. Still heavily engaged, both platoons then moved back to the company position covered by artillery.

U.S. Army Bell UH-1D Iroquois

By 18:10 D Company had reformed but was still in danger of being overrun. A Company, 6 RAR was dispatched in M113 armored personnel carriers from 3 Troop, 1st APC Squadron to reinforce them. Meanwhile, B Company headquarters and one platoon were still returning to base and were also ordered to assist. Leaving Nui Dat at 17:55, the carriers moved east, crossing a swollen creek before encountering elements of D445 Battalion attempting to outflank D Company and assault it from the rear. The Viet Cong were caught by surprise as the cavalry crashed into their flank and with darkness falling they broke through while B Company entered the position at 19:00.

Arriving at a crucial point, the relief force turned the tide of the battle. The Viet Cong had been massing for another assault that would have likely destroyed D Company, yet the firepower and mobility of the armor broke their will, forcing them to withdraw. Continuing past D Company the relief force assaulted the Viet Cong, before moving back to the company position at 19:10.

The artillery had been almost constant throughout and proved critical in ensuring the survival of D Company. By 19:15 the firing had ceased and the Australians waited for another attack. However, after no counter-attack occurred they prepared to withdraw 820 yd west. With the dead and wounded loaded onto the carriers D Company left at 22:45 while B and Company departed on foot. A landing zone was then established by the cavalry with the evacuation of the casualties finally completed after midnight. Forming a defensive position ready to repulse an expected attack they remained overnight, enduring the cold and heavy rain.

Members of the Royal New Zealand Artillery (RNZA) firing an M2A2 Howitzer

The Australians returned in strength the next day, sweeping the area and locating a large number of Viet Cong dead. Although initially believing they had suffered a major defeat, as the scale of the Viet Cong’s losses were revealed it became clear they had won a significant victory. Two wounded Viet Cong were killed after they moved to engage the Australians, while three were captured. The bodies of the missing from 11 Platoon were also located. Two men had survived despite their wounds, having spent the night in close proximity to the Viet Cong as they attempted to evacuate their own casualties.

Due to the likely presence of a sizeable force nearby the Australians remained cautious as they searched for the Viet Cong. Over the next two days they continued to clear the battlefield, uncovering more dead as they did so. Yet with 1 ATF lacking the resources to pursue the withdrawing force, the operation ended on 21 August. Heavily outnumbered but supported by strong artillery fire, D Company held off a regimental assault before a relief force of cavalry and infantry fought their way through and forced the Viet Cong to withdraw.

Eighteen Australians were killed and 24 wounded, while the Viet Cong lost at least 245 dead which were found over the days that followed. A decisive Australian victory, Long Tan proved a major local setback for the Viet Cong, indefinitely forestalling an imminent movement against Nui Dat and establishing the task force’s dominance over the province.

Although there were other large-scale encounters in later years, 1 ATF was not fundamentally challenged again.

The Australian Memorial at Long Tan

Unfortunately, Australia used the Imperial honors system, which limited the number of medals it could give out. This policy resulted in veterans receiving mere commendations, or nothing at all. This problem was finally resolved in 2008, a process that continued till 2011 when 6 RAR received a Unit Citation for Gallantry.

Battle of Long Tan Part of the Vietnam War Date 18 August 1966 Location Long Tan, Phuoc Tuy Province, South Vietnam Result Decisive Australian victory Belligerents  Australia  New Zealand  United States Viet Cong  North Vietnam Commanders and leaders Harry Smith Nguyen Thanh Hong Nguyen Thoi Bung Bui Quang Chanh Units involved D Coy, 6 RAR 5th Division 275th Regt D445 Bn Strength 108 men 1,500–2,500 men Casualties and losses 18 killed 24 wounded 245 killed 350 wounded (estimate) 3 captured

Thank you, Pram Vet, for providing the link to this 1.5 hr. documentary about the battle at Long Tan.