James Nicholas “Nick” Rowe was born on February 8, 1938 in McAllen, Texas, to Lee Delavan and Florence [nee Survillo] Rowe, a Russian immigrant who had lived through the Bolshevik Revolution. His older brother, Richard, attended West Point in preparation for a military career. Tragically, Richard died just prior to graduation. Richard’s classmates invited the family to attend the graduation in Richard’s honor, and the ceremony so inspired six-year-old Nick that he vowed to fulfill Richard’s unfinished military destiny.

Rowe qualified as a U.S. Special Forces officer and in July 1963 was sent to Vietnam as the executive and intelligence officer of a 12-man team assigned 6-month’s temporary duty that would end in mid-December 1963. His team’s camp, Detachment A-23, was built deep in the U Minh Forest on the site of a former French fort in Tan Phu, Thoi Binh District in the Mekong Delta region of South Vietnam.Their primary mission was to work with their South Vietnamese Special Forces counterparts to organize and train Civilian Irregular Defense Group (CIDG) strikers to kill and capture VC in an area. The camp’s isolated location in the midst of a known heavy enemy presence made it vulnerable to attack, and the close proximity came with a cost: when it was time to return stateside, all but two of the team’s original 12 members had been wounded in combat, five of them from a single mortar airburst above their sleeping quarters during only their second night in-country.On October 28, 1963, U.S. Army Military Assistance Advisory Group intelligence adviser Capt. Humbert R. “Rocky” Versace met with the Thoi Binh district chief and learned that an irregular platoon of VC (Viet Cong) had moved into the small hamlet of Le Coeur with the intent of establishing a VC command post there.  The possibility that it would be used to direct attacks against the Tan Phu Special Forces Camp approximately eight kilometers southeast of the hamlet was unacceptable. After meeting with the district chief, Capt. Versace made a liaison visit to Special Forces Team A-23 stationed at Tan Phu Special Forces Camp.

This year, the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Fund held a Memorial Day Student Video Contest asking the question, “How did Vietnam Change Our Country?”.  Each high-school student was tasked with interviewing Vietnam Veterans and putting together a video presentation which answered the question.  Student videos were uploaded on the VVMF website and three finalists selected – viewers were then prompted to select a winner for 2016.  The students and VVMF used social media and word of mouth to promote the event, encouraging people to vote for the best video, of course, each student strongly promoted their own.

Besides the wording here, this article includes four videos – each less than 5-minutes.  The first is from the VVMF and talks briefly about the Vietnam War Memorial and the future learning museum.  The next three are individual projects from the finalists – the last one received the most votes and was designated the winner for 2016.  Personally, I’d have a hard time choosing a winner, because I thought they were all excellent.

Congratulations Elise, Lindsay and Lydia on your submissions and for keeping The Vietnam War “out there” as a reminder to all that America sent the best they had to fight in the Vietnam War and America should never forget their sacrifices.

These are great  – I hope you agree!

Lindsay Daly, Montrose, PA

Lydia Prislovsky, Kerrville, TX

Elise Lutz, Wake Forest, NC

For more information about the VVMF, please visit their website:  http://www.vvmf.org/teaching-the-vietnam-era

The Vietnam War was noticeably different than all other wars in American history.  Unlike World War II, Vietnam was fought in one place by mostly American soldiers.  Warfare was guerrilla-style in the jungle, not on battlefields. The Vietnam War was the biggest event of our generation. It was also the first war in American history, so accessible to reporters that they flocked to Southeast Asia in droves for a chance to be break the biggest story ever to come out of the war.

For many female reporters, they tried everything to get their employers to send them to Vietnam to cover the war. Being denied, many went on their own as freelancers paying their own way. War being an equal opportunity employer, scores of women joined the procession of men traveling as war correspondents during the 1960’s and early 1970’s.

High on the list of great unanswered questions is whether women and men, apart from physique, really differ all that much. For journalists, a spin-off question is how news coverage changes, if at all, as women more fully integrate the field.

The women were gutsy risk-takers lusting for adventures in the jungles of Southeast Asia. Together, they transformed the role of women as war correspondents from something unheard of to being the norm.

Once on the scene, the women correspondents and their work didn’t seem – at least at first glimpse – all that different from their male colleagues.

They braved unspeakable dangers, not only from shrapnel and gunfire but also from leeches and parasites, blisters and swollen limbs, fever and malaria, exhaustion and emotional upheaval, to cover every kind of story from battlefields to street uprisings.

Military records indicate that upwards of 300 women were accredited to cover the war in the decade between 1965 and 1975. Of those 300, a total of about 70 women are identifiable as correspondents by their published or broadcast reports about the war. And their work won practically every prize in the book, from Polk Awards (Emerson, Dickey Chapelle and photographer Catherine Leroy) to the Emmy (Trotta) to the Pulitzer (FitzGerald).

Being a war correspondent was often considered the most dangerous form of journalism, yet, female correspondents got close enough to the action to provide written accounts, photos, or film footage. These factors produced military coverage the likes of which had never been seen or anticipated, with explicit coverage of the human suffering produced by the war available right in the living rooms of everyday people.

Here’s a brief glimpse of several female journalists who humped the bush alongside infantry soldiers on their quest for the big story:

Dickey Chapelle – (March 14, 1919 – November 4, 1965).

American photojournalist known for her work as a war correspondent from World War II through the Vietnam War. She was a writer for the National Observer and spent much of her time on patrols with the Marines. Chapelle was killed on November 4, 1965 while on patrol with a Marine platoon during Operation Black Ferret, a search and destroy operation 16 km south of Chu Lai, Quang Ngai Province, I Corps. The lieutenant in front of her kicked a tripwire boobytrap, consisting of a mortar shell with a hand grenade attached to the top of it. Chapelle was hit in the neck by a piece of shrapnel which severed her carotid artery; she died soon after.

Her last moments were captured in a photograph by Henri Huet.  Her body was returned to the U.S. with an honor guard consisting of six Marines, and she was given full Marine burial.  She became the first female war correspondent to be killed in Vietnam, as well as the first American female reporter to be killed in action.

Jurate Kazickas paid for her one-way ticket to Saigon with the $500 prize money she won on a television quiz show, Password. Kazickas traveled to Vietnam in 1967 at the age of 24 as a freelance journalist.

When she landed in Vietnam, she got her press card and explored the country. Kazickas travelled on military planes, ships, and aircraft carriers without a problem.  While the older generals were less inclined to take her or any other woman along with them into combat, the younger 18-20 year-old soldiers were happy to have a woman reporter by their side. Kazickas didn’t know what she wanted to write about when she first arrived in Vietnam.  She knew that she didn’t want to follow the big stories, so she wrote about the impact of Dear John letters on soldiers.  Kazickas soon found the confidence to write what she wanted and spent her time with patrols on the front line of combat writing about what it was like to risk your life.  She said she tried to carry her own weight when she was with the patrols.

Jurate Kazickas witnessed the carnage of Con Thien in July 1967 and was later wounded at Khe Sanh during an artillery attack; she still carries a piece of shrapnel in her derriere. After sustaining a “humiliating” wound to her buttocks, Kazickas was sent back to the United States. The military did not send her flowers. In fact, a general commented, “She got what she asked for.”

Denby Fawcett, a 26-year-old filing battlefield stories for the Honolulu Advertiser in 1967, unwittingly became the focus of a tug-of-war between women and the military. Even though women in Vietnam easily got press credentials, they were not always welcomed on the front lines of combat, especially early in the war.

She once traveled out to a remote army base in the Central Highlands. Gen. William Westmoreland, commanding officer for U.S. troops, helicoptered into the base on short notice to boost morale of the troops, who had just suffered 64 casualties. As he mingled with the soldiers, Westmoreland did a double-take: there was Fawcett, a woman he recognized from back home. Her mother, Suzanne, played tennis back in Honolulu with Westmoreland’s wife, Kitsy. The general asked Fawcett how long she had been there. Several days, she replied.

Fawcett later learned that the seemingly casual encounter led Westmoreland to decide that women should no longer be allowed to stay overnight in the field. For the women war correspondents, such a directive would have been career death since it often was impossible to get to a battle location for a story and then back to Saigon the same day. Fawcett, now a political reporter for KITV-TV in Honolulu.

Catherine Leroy (1945 – 8 July 2006) was a French-born photojournalist and war photographer, whose stark images of battle illustrated the story of the Vietnam War in the pages of Life magazine and other publications

On arrival in Saigon, Leroy met the photographer Horst Faas, bureau chief of the Associated Press. A year later she became the first accredited journalist to participate in a combat parachute jump, joining the 173rd Airborne Brigade in Operation Junction City. Two weeks after the battle for Hill 881, she was wounded with a Marine unit near the demilitarized zone. In 1968, during the Tet Offensive, Leroy was captured by the North Vietnamese Army. She managed to talk her way out and emerged as the first newsperson to take photos of North Vietnamese Army Regulars behind their own lines. The story made the cover of Life Magazine.

Catherine was brought up in a convent in Paris. She was moved by images of war she had seen in Paris Match, and decided she wanted to travel to Vietnam to “give war a human face.” At the age of 21 booked a one-way ticket to Laos in 1966, with just one Leica M2 and $100 in her pocket.

Her most famous photo, Corpsman In Anguish, (1967) at the Wayback Machine (archived December 3, 2007) was one of three taken in quick succession portraying U.S. Navy Corpsman Vernon Wike. In the pictures, the sailor is crouched in tall grass during the battle for Hill 881 near Khe Sanh. He is cradling his shot comrade while smoke from the battle rises into the air behind them. In the first frame, Wike has two hands on his friends chest, trying to staunch the wound. In the second, he is trying to find a heartbeat. In the third frame, “Corpsman In Anguish”, he has just realized the man is dead.

Liz Trotta – Born 28 March 1937. When she began her journalism career in 1965, she was relegated to articles classified as “topics of women’s interest.” These assignments included reporting on the wedding dress of Lynda Bird Johnson, President Lyndon Johnson’s daughter, in 1967. Trotta fought the typecasting of female reporters and ended up, through sheer tenacity, covering the fighting front for CBS News during the Vietnam War in 1968. She was the first U.S. female journalist to be assigned to report on tough news stories and battlefront war coverage.

She is the winner of three Emmy Awards for television broadcasting and two Overseas Press Club Awards, worked in the early twenty-first century in syndicated news broadcasting.

Kate Webb – (24 March 1943 – 13 May 2007) was a New Zealand-born Australian war correspondent. UPI sent her to Cambodia in early 1970 where she took over the bureau chief’s job after her predecessor, Frank Frosch, was gunned down and savagely beaten in a Viet Cong ambush that October. Pulitzer Prize-winning UPI photographer Kyoichi Sawada was also killed with Frosch.

Ms. Webb became part of an international story when she was taken hostage April 7, 1971. At the time, she and five Asian reporters were driving on the main artery between the capital city of Phnom Penh and Kompong Som, a deep-water port on the Gulf of Thailand.

Finding themselves surprised by a sudden outburst of air and artillery fire, they abandoned their car and fled to the woods for safety. Webb was captured, along with a Japanese journalist and four Cambodians, by North Vietnamese troops in Cambodia. Along with her colleagues, she spent three weeks traipsing through the jungle from dusk to dawn, her feet cut and covered in suppurating sores. Interrogations and propaganda lessons punctuated the march. Webb says she survived by learning about the intricacies of the Japanese tea ceremony and standing on her head, to the consternation of the guards and fellow prisoners. But, she writes: “As strange as being a prisoner is, coming out, something I have not until now tried to write about, is traumatic.

They emerged muddy, leech-ridden and exhausted but otherwise unharmed. Ms. Webb said she most feared the low-level flights of U.S. aircraft, wondering whether they would drop a bomb load on them.

“It was very, very lonely. I had no girlfriends. No one visited me in the hospital. I was the lowest of the low, a 24-year-old girl bopping around.

But I knew I was part of one of the most profound, important events in American history. It was a real privilege. I never took it lightly.”

She later found out that she had been reported killed. A body had been found and ‘identified’, so her family held a memorial service. She also found it bizzarre when reading her own obit in the paper.

In the context of journalism history, these 70-odd women who covered the Vietnam War debunked the notion that women had no place on the battlefield. Thanks to their accomplishments in Southeast Asia, the women correspondents who are now routinely assigned to cover conflicts in the Persian Gulf, Yugoslavia, Albania and countries throughout Africa are no longer considered, “girl reporters.”

Vietnam War correspondents

Print-Journalists:

W. Apple – Peter Arnett – Michael Birch – Peter Braestrup – Malcolm Browne – Wilfred Burchett – Dickey Chapelle – Robert Elegant – Gloria Emerson – Bernard Fall – Frances FitzGerald – Sylvana Foa – Joseph Galloway – Martha Gellhorn – Al Gore – David Halberstam – Michael Herr – Seymour Hersh – Marguerite Higgins – Takeshi Kaikō – Stanley Karnow – Donald Kirk – Steve Kroft – John Pilge – Gareth Porter – John Sack – Murray Sayle – Jonathan Schell – Sydney Schanberg – Neil Sheehan – Alexander Shimkin – John Steinbeck IV – Matthew V. Storin – Richard Tregaskis – Kate Webb

Photo-Journalists:

Eddie Adams – David Burnett – Larry Burrows – Robert Capa – Gilles Caron – Dickey Chapelle – Charles Chellapah – Neil Davis – David Douglas Duncan – Charles Eggleston – Horst Faas – Sean Flynn-Chas Gerretsen – Barbara Gluck – Philip Jones Griffiths – Dirck Halstead – Henri Huet – David Hume Kennerly – Catherine Leroy – Don McCullin – Co Rentmeester – Tim Page – Toshio Sakai – Kyoichi Sawada – Dick Swanson – Dana Stone – Shigeru Tamura – Neal Ulevich – Nick Ut

Broadcast Journalists:

Martin Bell – Ed Bradley – Charles Collingwood – Walter Cronkite – Murray Fromson – Bernard Kalb – Peter Kalischer – Douglas Kiker – Steve Kroft – Charles Kuralt – George Lewis – Ike Pappas – Julian Pettifer – Bill Plante – Dan Rather – Clete Roberts – Morley Safer – Bob Simon – Richard Threlkeld – Joe Schlesinger

Several female correspondents talked about their motivations for going to Vietnam and answered questions from the audience during this April 2000 special on C-Span.

http://www.c-span.org/video/?156457-1/women-correspondents-vietnam

Here is a list of 65 journalists who were either killed or captured (MIA) during the war:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_journalists_killed_and_missing_in_the_Vietnam_War

Also, don’t forget to check out the promotion for my new book, “When Can I Stop Running?” Click HERE for more info. 

Hi Everybody!

Here we are, a little more than six years since publishing my first book, “Cherries – A Vietnam War Novel” –  a well-received addition to the many Vietnam War novels out there.  On Amazon, this book has ranked in the top 100 of its category since inception and averages 4.75 stars from 220+ posted reader reviews while the audiobook version was chosen, “The Best Audiobook of 2012” by PageOneLit.com. 

Now, I’m proud to announce that my second book is now available and waiting for readers to snatch up copies.  I have my fingers crossed and hoping for similar results. There will, however, not be an audiobook in the foreseeable future. 

Book description:

When Can I Stop Running?

John Podlaski’s encore Vietnam War novel brings back John (‘Polack’) Kowalski, the central character in ‘Cherries’, and introduces us to Louis (‘LG’) Gladwell, his irrepressible black friend. Polack and LG are a ‘Salt and Pepper’ team, best buddies and brothers in a way that only those who have fought side-by-side in a war can ever truly understand. 

The year is 1970, and the story follows the two soldiers – impressionable Detroit teenagers – during their long night in a Listening Post (‘LP’), some 500 meters beyond the bunker line of the new firebase. Their assignment as a “human early warning system”, is to listen for enemy activity and forewarn the base of any potential dangers. As they were new to the “Iron Triangle” and its reputation, little did they know that units before them lost dozens of soldiers in this nightly high-risk task and referred to those assigned as “bait for the enemy” and “sacrificial lambs”. 

Sitting in the pitch black tropical jungle – with visibility at less than two feet – John’s imagination takes hold throughout the agonizing night, and at times, transports him back to some of his most vivid childhood memories – innocent, but equally terrifying at the time. 

As kids, we instinctively run as fast as we can to escape imaginary or perceived danger, but as soldiers, men are trained to conquer their fears and develop the confidence to stand their ground and fight. Running is not an option. 

In ‘When Can I Stop Running?‘ the author juxtaposes his nightmarish hours in the bush with some of his most heart-pounding childhood escapades. Readers will relate to the humorous childish antics with amusement; military veterans will find themselves relating to both of the entertaining and compelling recollections.

Book trailer:

As a special incentive to those of you who have viewed this article – I am offering the first 50 buyers of my new book a free digital copy of my first book, “Cherries – A Vietnam War Novel.”  I have 32 Amazon codes and 18 Smashwords codes in hand.  All emails will arrive in my “new mail box”, and the first 50 listed in sequence by time stamp will be awarded the free copies.  I am not responsible if the address you use is deemed spam and not entered into the correct mailbox. 

Here’s what you must do:  Order “When Can I Stop Running?” from one of the locations below.  Note the confirmation number of your purchase, and send the last 7 numbers and where you bought it in an email to: “john.podlaski@gmail.com”.  I’ll respond to your email and send you the direct link and special gift code that you’ll submit during check-out when purchasing “Cherries…”.  When all copies are dispersed, I’ll list all winners at the bottom of this article.  Good luck!  Thank you all for your participation!

As of 7/15, these are the names of people who have contacted me and received  a free digital copy of “Cherries…”:

Mike Goldstein
Forest Rittgers
Dwayne Robinson
Wendel Parrish
Brett Price

This leaves 27 copies in Amazon and 18 in Smashwords.  Don’t miss out!

Book ordering information:

Dolby Digital electronic version (e-book)…

Amazon Kindle & printed copy:  https://www.amazon.com/When-Can-I-Stop-Running-ebook/dp/B01H9BESNC

Apple and other e-reader formats:

Smashwords:  https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/632451

Book Tango:  http://bookstore.bookcountry.com/Products/SKU-001102662/When-Can-I-Stop-Running.aspx

Google Play:  https://play.google.com/store/books/details/John_Podlaski_When_Can_I_Stop_Running?id=ijiGDAAAQBAJ

Printed Book:

CreateSpace:  https://www.createspace.com/6357590

Personally autographed printed copy:  Contact me via email (john.podlaski@gmail.com)

This has turned out to be longer then I expected, but I think it’s all good and you’ll like it…

Today, I want to focus on the American “straight leg” infantryman during the Vietnam War.  I’m not including Mechanized  units, Seals, Special Forces, LRRPs, SOG, Recon, Rangers or similar groups because of their special operations. I welcome all submissions from this group for future publication – contact me via email. What was it like for these young grunts to hump through the countryside carrying a rucksack and other supplies weighing half as much as they did?  What all did they carry? Was it more difficult to hump in one area of the country versus another? Did it get easier over time?

First, I want to state that this article is not all-inclusive of every infantryman who fought during the many years of war. This explanation is only from my perspective but will most likely hold true for many who humped in that country with me.

Okay. Most Grunts never had a permanent home and had to carry everything with them out on missions. Most personal items not needed for everyday use were usually left behind in a duffel and stored in the supply room at the unit’s basecamp (civvies for R&R, electronic equipment, suitcase, etc). In my case, Cu Chi in the south and Phu Bai in the north.

Everything else that mattered was lugged inside of a metal ammo can under the rucksack. Letters from home, writing paper and pens, wallet, money, camera, toilet paper, pictures, paperback books, magazines, and diaries are just some examples of what we wanted nearby and protected from the elements.

Our rucksack and ammo can were secured to a curved aluminum frame with quick-release shoulder straps and a wide strap extending across the bottom which rested against the small of our backs.

Everyone carried a green towel draped across their shoulders; it collected sweat from our dripping heads and necks, wiped salty sweat from stinging eyes and used as a cushion under the straps of the ruck frame.

The first day of a mission or after a resupply was a bitch because this is when our equipment weighed the most, then lessened over the remaining days as supplies were expended (mostly just food and water). Resupply in the bush occurred every 3-4 days, but sometimes, had to be extended to 5-6 days because of poor weather or other unforeseen circumstances. Those were the times that we ran out of food and/or water and had to make do with what was available. Everyone shared what collectively remained…nobody bitched about it or hoarded.

C-Ration meals weighed the most; each can was slightly larger than a can of Campbell’s soup or canned vegetables. When you consider eating 9-12 meals, in addition to cans of fruit, crackers, and other snacks, the combined volume and weight forced many of us to skimp on meals (try gathering 15-20 cans together the next time you’re in the supermarket to see what I mean). As a result of this decision, breakfast might only be hot cocoa, coffee or a can of eggs or maybe just pound cake, lunch might be some crackers and peanut butter, fruit cake or a can of fruit, then splurging at dinner with meat, potatoes and desert along with a steaming hot coffee or cocoa. Near the end of my tour, we were introduced to freeze-dried LRRP meals that weighed very little in comparison but required extra water to hydrate and prepare the meals. All in all, LRRP meals offered a nice variety and allowed the grunts a different menu and weight displacement. It should also be noted here that us grunts lost a lot of weight during our year in the war, most of us came home weighing in somewhere between 135# – 165#. I also lost seven inches around my waist.

Now that we have our meal plans decided and food packed away for the next few days, our water needs are next. The summer months, March – October, were difficult for us in that we had to have enough water to last until the next resupply. On average, each man carried (4) quart canteens – 1 or 2 were usually filled with Kool-Aide or Tang orange juice which were plentiful and shared among the troops when packages arrived from home. Those areas of operation that had rivers and streams were also good sources for water, but needed to be purified with iodine tablets first and then wait a couple of hours before drinking. These are the canteens that were usually converted to one of the special drinks as the taste of treated water was terrible…you also have to look past the color of the water as none of these streams and rivers were pure as melted snow on the Rockies – more of an algae green or coffee brown.  After purification, the sediment settles on the bottom, and when shaking the canteen or drinking too fast caused spitting episodes when the particles snuck through our gritted teeth. Note that four quarts or water weigh about 8 – 10 lbs.

During the monsoon season, there was ample water no matter where you were in country. Bomb craters were in abundance and usually filled with water that was 10 – 15 ft. deep; we’d designate one for bathing and another for drinking water, banana leaves and ponchos also helped collect rain water during the storms, so we could get by with just 1 or 2 canteens and our canteen cup.

Bomb Crater at the beginning of Monsoon season

Bomb crater completely filled during monsoon season

Food and water now taken care of, lets add the supplies needed to fight our little war. Poncho liners (quilted blankets of polyester and cotton) were usually stuffed into our rucks at that point to help keep the C-Ration cans secure and cushioned.

Then we packed (2) trip flares with wire and stakes, (1) Claymore mine, firing device and 50’ of wire with attached blasting cap, and a 100-round link of M60 ammo (some draped the belt of ammo around the outside of the rucksack instead of carrying it inside). Certain individuals also carried rolls of detonation cord and blasting caps in their rucksacks which were used to daisy chain Claymore mines or wrap around a tree to knock it down for a Medivac to land. This was about all we could fit into the bulging ruck; the top of the rucksack had a draw string that when pulled, collapses the top to a smaller diameter. Before securing the straps of the ruck cover, we’d stick (2) signal flares on top and under the straps so they stayed in place when closing up the pack.

Bear in mind, that each of us also had a set of suspenders attached to an ammo belt worn around our waists. This is where we stored extra ammo magazines for our M-16’s, smoke grenades, baseball grenades, first-aid battle dressings and our canteens. This ensemble was all we wore when going out on short patrols; leaving our rucks behind with a small crew to guard them or in a day lager position where we’d spend two nights before moving on to a new destination.

C-Ration tin modified to use as stove for food and hot water.

Heating a meal of spaghetti and meatballs

Each rucksack had three pockets on the side that we used to store a variety of things. Mine held several packs of cigarettes, packages of Kool Aide, coffee, hot cocoa, sugars, powdered cream, salt/pepper, Tobasco sauce, Heinz-57 sauce, heat tabs, lighter fluid, snacks, and my cooking stove (a modified C-Ration biscuit can with holes in its side), foot powder and bug juice.

I’d roll my poncho into a small 12” long cylinder and tie it to the bottom of my ruck – just underneath the ammo can; it was used as a roof during the monsoon season and as my ground cover for sleeping at night.

Morning after the rains – drying out and eating breakfast

Still had to secure a machete and folding shovel to the ruck, and attach either a bayonet or Bowie knife to the ammo belt.

Finally, I’d add (2) cloth bandoleers of 5.56 ammo rounds crisscrossing them across my chest like Poncho Villa did his ammunition. Later in my tour, our Scout went to the local village and purchased hammocks for all of us as trees were plentiful. These were usually balled up and carried in trouser pockets or stuffed into one of the pouches on the rucksack.

Steel pot on my head, ruck on my back and M-16 in hand, we’re ready to go…total weight about 70# which forced us all to walk bent over at the waist to support the heavy load. When stopping for a short break, we’d bend over – almost 90 degrees – and allow the pack to rest on our backs thus giving our shoulders a well deserved reprieve and allow the circulation to return.  Rucks were always bobbing and shifting while humping as soldiers tried to redistribute the weight so their arms and shoulders would not go numb from the lack of circulation.  If we chose to sit during a longer break then getting back up after with a filled ruck was a comedy of errors.  We learned to rely on our buddy and pull each other up or roll onto all fours and use a tree to pull yourself up.  There was no easy way to do it!

In addition to those supplies above, (1) M72 LAW (anti-tank disposable missile) and several six-volt batteries, used for mechanical ambushes are also carried by each squad. This responsibility was split between the men and switched out daily.

The grunts below didn’t have to haul around Claymore mines, trip flares, machetes, and signal flares because of the primary weapons they carried:

Radio Telephone Operators (RTO) carried a PRC-25 radio under his rucksack which added another 25#, 2 spare batteries @ 5#, and a long range folding antenna. His total burden was still around 80#.

M60 machine gunners added 26# for the gun and 10# of belted ammo.  Usually carried a 45 cal. pistol on his belt with 3 additional magazines. However, most of us carried our “pig” by resting it on a shoulder and holding onto one of the fold down legs – switching back and forth between shoulders when one began to ache.

Assistant gunners carried an additional 300 – 500 rounds of M60 ammo 35# in addition to an M-16 and ammo bandoleers. Some of these guys also carried an extra barrel for the machine gun across the top of their rucksacks..

Thumpers or grenadiers carried a M79 grenade launcher – 10# and wore a vest holding thirty mixed rounds (High explosive (HE), White Phosphorus (WP), beehive (shotgun shells) and CS gas – estimated at 25#. Additional rounds were tucked away inside of the rucksack.

Medics and corpsmen carried field bags filled with creams, ointments, pills, 2 IV bottles and syringes, sterile bandages, powders, foot powder, salt pills, malaria pills for ever person (1 white for daily and 1 orange for Mondays). I’ve seen some carry no weapon with them to the field (Conscientious Objectors) and others who carried pistols instead of M-16’s.

***

The S-shaped country of Vietnam has a north-to-south distance of 1,650 kilometers and is about 50 kilometers wide at the narrowest point. With a coastline of 3,260 kilometers. Vietnam was divided into four zones during the war: I Corps: the northernmost area bordering Laos and the DMZ; II Corps: included the Central Highlands, sandy beaches and plateau’s filled with rice paddies which bordered Laos and Cambodia; III Corps: comprised of gentle rolling hills and wide open areas, large urban areas, rubber plantations and thick jungles that boarder the well-stocked Cambodian sanctuaries. This area also included a lone mountain which could be seen for miles in all directions (Nui Ba Den or Black Virgin Mountain); and IV Corps: a river delta laced with rivers and canals, often impassable for vehicles, soldiers used special shallow draft gun boats, floating artillery and armored transports to seek out and locate the enemy.

So now that the soldier was loaded up to seek out the enemy, this is what he faced…

I Corps encompassed a narrow portion of the country (10,000 sq. miles) and favored the enemy. The western portion of the zone was filled with rugged jungle covered mountains that hid enemy supply bases and camps, east of the mountains, a narrow rolling piedmont quickly gives way to a flat, wet coastal plain much of which is covered by rice paddies and beyond which lie beaches of the South China Sea.

The western mountains were enemy strongholds for much of the war and Americans and their allies fought pitched battles against a trained military forces from the north – The North Vietnamese Army (NVA) who could use artillery against the Americans from both Laos and North Vietnam.  Major battles include Khe Sahn, Battle of Hue during the Tet Offensive, Hamburger Hill and the Ashau Valley among others. These mountains were treacherous and, at times, took days to climb – I remember having to tie myself to trees at night so I wouldn’t roll downhill. Climbing also took its toll on the soldiers ranging from heat stroke and exhaustion to sprains and back injuries from falls.

II Corps encompasses rugged mountains with dense forests that are broken by a rolling plateau from Pleiku to Ban Me Thuot. Tracked vehicle movement and helicopter landings here were severely limited. Poor weather and the great distance from supply centers were important limiting factors. Enemy forces in the highlands were mainly regular units of the North Vietnamese Army. Noted major battles included Dak To, An Khe, Happy Valley, Pleiku and Firebase MaryAnn to name a few.

III Corps included Saigon and a dense countryside that was riddled with many supply routes from the Ho Chi Minh trail and staging areas in Cambodia. It is also an area filled with hundreds of miles of tunnels, underground hospitals and enemy staging areas.

In fact, the 25^th Division main basecamp, Cu Chi, sat atop one of the most infamous tunnel complexes of the war – not discovered until after the war ended. Usually, Americans fought pitched battles against the VC and local militia fighters who blended in with farmers during the day or worked in the large cities, towns or even in the military basecamps. After the 1968 TET offensive, VC units within this area were almost decimated and NVA soldiers soon began filling in the ranks on many of the units operating here. some major battles occurred in the Iron Triangle, Tay Ninh, An Loc, Michelin Rubber Plantation, Hobo Woods, and on Nui Ba Den.

War Zone III was well suited for tracked vehicle movement, and resulted in many main force battles.

IV Corps: The Mekong Delta, covering about 40,000 square kilometers, is a low-level plain not more than three meters above sea level at any point and is crisscrossed by a maze of canals and rivers.

Arms and supplies were ferried to entrenched VC soldiers via sampans and other small boats.

I don’t know much about this area and welcome articles or commentary from those of you who lived and fought through this area. This includes Army as well as Navy brown water forces and PBR crews.

The heat, humidity, monsoonal rain and groundwater meant that uniformed GIs were almost constantly drenched with water or sweat.

Vietnam’s wildlife posed its own dangers. American soldiers encountered malarial mosquitoes, leeches, ticks, fire ants and 30 different kinds of venomous snake. One historian estimates between 150 and 300 US personnel died in Vietnam from the effects of snakebite.

I was bitten by a Banded Krait and wouldn’t have survived had I not been pulled out the jungle by a Medivac and rushed to the 93^rd Evac. In Long Binh.

Annual rainfall is substantial in all regions and torrential in some, ranging from 47.2 to 118.1 in. Nearly 90% of the precipitation occurs during the summer. The average annual temperature is generally higher in the plains than in the mountains and plateaus. Temperatures range from a low of 41 °F in December and January, the coolest months, to more than 98.6 °F in August, the hottest month. Humidity is always high and near 100%.

Jungle terrain is extremely difficult to hump through. Foliage grows so close together and thick that point men exhaust themselves by cutting a small corridor through the dense vegetation for those following. When cutting trails, point was rotated every half hour between 3 or 4 men; it was also a time when that soldier was most vulnerable. His entire focus was in clearing a path and not looking for enemy soldiers. You already know that they are carrying a lot of weight and have to bulldoze their way through the bush.

Wait-a-minute vines with thick thorns latched onto rucksacks or around outstretched arms requiring the soldier to stop and have the guy behind him unsnag him so the column could continue. Exposed roots stuck out of the ground and caused soldiers to trip and sustain ankle or foot injuries. Sometimes, the hedgerows and bamboo thickets were so thick, only a small crawl space could be created. Soldiers removed their rucks and either pushed or pulled them through while crawling on their bellies. Now keep in mind that enemy soldiers are everywhere, booby traps are plentiful – even in the most obscure of areas, and insects are feasting on the sweaty, moving bounty. Oh, I forgot, some of this thick jungle terrain covers the mountains, so in addition to hacking a path, each soldier had to climb and then help pull up the man behind him.

Humping through rice paddies is an experience in itself. They are filled with water and human waste to fertilize the rice stalks. Stepping through the thigh-high water in ankle deep muck is extremely difficult. The muddy bottom sucks on the boots making it very hard to pull them up and clear to move another step. This continues until they’re back on solid ground…I’ve heard of soldiers humping through paddies for entire days at a time. The main danger to soldiers is that they remain exposed during this time with the only protection being the surrounding dikes, which might not be nearby if fired upon. VC snipers often harassed patrols from the nearby wood line which caused further hardship to the soldier who had to dive into the much for cover. It’s an extreme cardio workout!

Open flat areas and valleys usually have head-high elephant grass growing wild everywhere which also conceals anyone moving about. This stuff is similar to the palm fronds we get at Easter. This grass is almost the same texture except for the edges which are razor sharp and have small thorns. They’ll bend and move with the flow, but leave cuts on all exposed skin that are prone to serious infection.

Humping through the Delta area meant that soldiers trudged through water and swamps for most of their day. I do know that World War II landing crafts transported patrols along the waterways to some solid ground to search for the enemy. It is also said that 40% of the country’s population resides in the Delta area. Homes and villages are built on stilts and line the ever present waterways.

In closing, I have to say that humping was a real challenge no matter where in country you happen to be following the guy in front of you. No one area was more favorable than the other and each offered these young soldiers opportunities to see nature at its best. In I Corps, we came upon huge caves and many waterfalls, old church ruins in the middle of nowhere, and the ancient city of Hue. In III Corps, we discovered tunnel complexes and underground hospitals that took our breath away, discovered beaches with pristine sand and emerald water (Vung Tau), and witnessed the oddity of the Black Virgin Mountain on the landscape.

Did it get easier over time? Some say it did while others say no. I can attest that the first several weeks were the most difficult of my life in Vietnam. If you saw the movie, Platoon, remember Charlie Sheen’s character who passed out on his first patrol? It was like that everyday! We were all on a quest to reach our destination without passing out! If the word “Zombie” would have existed back then, it may have been used to describe us at the end of the day.  If we ran into the enemy…well, that’s another story for another time.

Looking back, I’m amazed that we were able to do what we did. In fact, I can also say most honestly that I was in the best physical condition of my life during that year in Vietnam. No Regerts! I’d do it again if I were forty years younger. What about you other grunts – did I nail it?

Also, don’t forget to check out the promotion for my new book, “When Can I Stop Running?” If you haven’t read my first book, “Cherries…”, there’s a free e-book waiting for you.  Click HERE for instructions. 

Support to South Vietnam

The war in Vietnam was a much larger event than most people realized.  For starters, forty nations provided assistance to South Vietnam ranging from economic and technical assistance to educational and humanitarian contributions.  Hundreds of civilians from countries around the world worked in Vietnam as doctors, teachers and technical specialists.  Eight Free-World nations also provided military assistance:  The United States, the Republic of Korea, Thailand, Australia, New Zealand, the Philippines, the Republic of China, and Spain – their flags flew proudly alongside the colors of the Republic of Vietnam at the Free-World headquarters in Saigon.  The military contributions of these nations included combat troops, army medical teams, and individual political warfare advisers. Most people think that the United States, Australia and Korea were the only allied troops fighting in that war.  So let’s take a look at each of them…

The Republic of Korea

They started landing troops in the RVN during September and October 1965.  By the end of 1966, RoK had the second largest foreign military force in Vietnam behind the U.S. 

They also did not come to advise anyone. They came to fight against the NVA and VC. 

The Capital Division, affectionately called by the Americans the Tiger Division, arrived at Qui Nhon during November 1965, initially with two regiments. The area was chosen, among other reasons, because it was not populated and would therefore not take agricultural land away from the local inhabitants. It was, moreover, high ground that would not be adversely affected by the rains. These circumstances would give the Koreans an opportunity to spread out their command post as much as they wished and allow the first troop units some training in operating against the enemy.The Capital “Tiger” Division was responsible for Binh Dinh Province, while the 9th “White Horse” Division was responsible for Phu Yen, Khanh Hoa and Ninh Thuan provinces, all in II Corps. The Blue Dragon Marine Brigade was positioned at Cam Ran Bay, in southeastern Khan Hoa Province, then moved to Tuy Hoa, then moved to I Corps. Presented by Shukhevych in Open Diary.

By June of 1966 the Capital Division controlled all the area north of Qui Nhon to the east of Highway 1 and up to the base of Phu Cat Mountain. It extended its control also to the north and south of Highway 19 up to the pass leading into An Khe. Working south along Highway 1 down toward Tuy Hoa and within the province of Binh Dinh, the Capital Division sent out reconnaissance parties and carried out small operations as far south as the border between Binh Dinh and Phu Yen.

Soldiers of the ROK White Horse Division in Vietnam.

South Korean Marine

During the Vietnam War, the Republic of Korea sent more combat troops to South Vietnam than any other American ally.  At their peak, they had close to 50,000 boots on the ground with over 300,000 served through 1973.  About 5,000 died.  This was the ROK’s first military action abroad.

The Capital and Ninth divisions were withdrawn from South Vietnam in March 1973. South Korea’s loyalty to the American war effort in South Vietnam, even though most Korean officials did not think the war was politically winnable, was a direct function of the close relationship existing between the two countries since the Korean War (1950-53).  Many American soldiers have claimed that the extremely disciplined ROK Marines were ruthless and a difficult force to be reckoned with. 

South Korea claimed to have killed 41,000 Viet Cong fighters.  The United States paid South Korean soldiers 236 million dollars for their efforts in Vietnam.

The names of the Korean Killed In Action (KIA) in Vietnam are engraved on black marble stone, classified by units to which the deceased belonged during the Vietnam War, at the Korean War Memorial, Seoul, ROK. Presented by Vietnam Veterans of Korea.

Australia

Australia, as an ally of the United States with obligations under the Southeast Asia Treaty Organization (SEATO) and ANZUS Pacts, and in the hope of shoring up its alliance with the US, became involved in the Vietnam War.  Between 1962 and 1972 it would send almost 60,000 personnel to Vietnam, including ground troops, naval forces and air assets, and would contribute large amounts of material to the war effort.   Australian Government had introduced a military draft for 20-year-olds, in November 1964,

The Australian military had gained experience in counterinsurgency and jungle warfare during battles in Malaysia and World War II.  The United States was looking forward to training they hoped to get from these warriors.

Australia also believed in the Domino Theory and began sending advisors to Vietnam in 1962, and combat troops were committed in 1965.

Personnel and aircraft of RAAF Transport Flight Vietnam arrive in South Vietnam in August 1964

An Australian soldier in Vietnam

Australian soldiers from 7 RAR waiting to be picked up by US Army helicopters following a cordon and search operation near Phuoc Hai in 1967

From an Australian perspective, one of the most famous engagements in the war was the Battle of Long Tan which took place on 18 and 19 August 1966. During the battle a company from 6 RAR, despite being heavily outnumbered, fought off a large enemy assault of regimental strength. 18 Australians were killed and 24 wounded, while at least 245 Viet Cong were killed. It was a decisive Australian victory and is often cited as an example of the importance of combining and coordinating infantry, artillery, armor and military aviation.  I recently posted an article about the battle at Long Tan on my website – look to the right column for a link to it.

The withdrawal of Australia’s forces from South Vietnam began in November 1970 when 8 RAR completed its tour of duty and was not replaced. A phased withdrawal followed, and by 11 January 1973 Australian involvement in hostilities in Vietnam had ceased. Nevertheless, Australian troops from the Australian Embassy Platoon remained deployed in the country until 1 July 1973, and Australian forces were deployed briefly in April 1975, during the Fall of Saigon, to evacuate personnel from the Australian embassy.  Approximately 60,000 Australians served in the war; 521 were killed and more than 3,000 were wounded

New Zealand 

New Zealand decided to send troops to Vietnam in 1965 because of Cold War concerns and alliance considerations.  New Zealand began sending troops in 1965 by sending a detachment of engineers and an artillery battery, and then started sending special forces and regular infantry which were attached to Australian formations.

161 Battery was initially under command of the United States Army’s 173rd Airborne Brigade for the first 12 months based at Bien Hoa near Saigon, but would later serve with Royal Australian Artillery field regiments when it was reassigned to the newly formed 1st Australian Task Force at Nui Dat, in Phuoc Tuy Province east of Saigon in June 1966.

The gunners were noted for their key role in assisting the 6th Battalion, Royal Australian Regiment, during the Battle of Long Tan, in which 18 Australians were killed holding off a regimental sized enemy force on 18 August 1966. The battery also played important roles during the Tet Offensive and the Battle of Coral–Balmoral in 1968. The Battery left Vietnam in May 1971 after providing virtually continuous fire support usually in support of Australian and New Zealand infantry units for six years, with 750 men having served with the Battery.

“MEMBERS OF ROYAL NEW ZEALAND ARTILLERY carry out a fire mission.”

Approximately 3,500 New Zealanders served in Vietnam, with 37 killed and 187 wounded. Most Australians and New Zealanders served in the 1st Australian Task Force in Phước Tuy Province.

Philippines

Some 10,450 Filipino troops were dispatched to South Vietnam. They were primarily engaged in medical and other civilian pacification projects. These forces operated under the designation PHLCAG-V or Philippine Civic Action Group-Vietnam. More noteworthy was the fact that the naval base in Subic Bay was used for the U.S. Seventh Fleet from 1964 till the end of the war in 1975. The Navy base in Subic bay and the Air force base at Clark achieved maximum functionality during the war and supported an estimated 80,000 locals in allied tertiary businesses from shoe making to prostitution.

The Philippine Civic Action Group entered Vietnam in September 1966, setting up operations in a base camp in Tay Ninh Province northwest of Saigon. The force included an engineer construction battalion, medical and rural community development teams, a security battalion, a field artillery battery, and a logistics and headquarters element.

In agreeing to commit troops, Philippine President Ferdinand Marcos was partially motivated by the desire for financial aid. In return for the military assistance, the United States not only agreed to pay for the deployment and maintenance of the Philippine force, but also granted Marcos several types of military aid, much of it for use in the Philippines rather than in South Vietnam.

Ranger Scouts

Thailand

Thai Army formations, including the “Queen’s Cobra” battalion, saw action in South Vietnam between 1965 and 1971. Thai forces saw much more action in the covert war in Laos between 1964 and 1972, though Thai regular formations there were heavily outnumbered by the irregular “volunteers” of the CIA-sponsored Police Aerial Reconnaissance Units or PARU, who carried out reconnaissance activities on the western side of the Ho Chi Minh trail.

During the war in Vietnam, Thailand was a close American ally. Although the Thais had customarily gotten along with the Vietnamese, they were dubious of Communist intentions, feared the fall of Cambodia and Laos to guerrillas, and wanted above all else to safeguard their independence. By 1969, the Thais had a total of nearly 12,000 combat troops in Vietnam, including the elite Queen’s Cobras and the Black Panther Division of the Royal Thai Army Volunteer Force. The United States 46th Special Forces Company assisted Thai forces in resisting Communist guerrilla activity along the Laotian border and in the south on the Malay Peninsula. The last of the Thai troops left Vietnam in April 1972.

The Thai Queen’s Cobra battalion in Phuoc Tho

The United States also had a formidable military presence in Thailand, including the 8th, 355th, 366th, and 388th Tactical Fighter Wings and the 307th Strategic Wing. Strategic bombing operations over North and South Vietnam frequently originated in Thailand.

Republic of China (Taiwan)

Two political warfare advisers were stationed in each of the four corps tactical zones, three advisers at the Republic of Vietnam Armed Forces Political Warfare College in Dalat, and the other three with the Armed Forces General Political Warfare Directorate in Saigon. Sponsored and supported by the US Agency for International Development, the seven-member provincial health assistance team worked in the provincial hospital at Phan Thiet. The Republic of China also provided two C46 aircraft and crews for refugee relief missions in South Vietnam. By the end of 1965 assistance from the Republic of China had been increased to include eighty-six agricultural experts and a nine-man mission to supervise construction and operation of the 33,000-kilowatt power plant located at Thu Duc.

Additional aid was sought from the republic early in 1966 when the United States requested six LST’s for service in South Vietnam. Originally given to the Nationalists under the US Military Assistance Program, the ships were to be manned by Chinese crews in civilian clothing and fly US flags. The United States would bear the cost of crew wages and ship maintenance. The mission of the ships was to fill the need for shallow-draft coastal vessels and help ease harbor congestion. The Republic of China was able to provide only two ships; their transfer took place in April in a low key atmosphere without publicity.

Since November 1967, the ROC secretly operated a cargo transport detachment to assist the US and the ROV. It was based on existing formation of the 34th squadron of ROC Air force. The unit’s strength included two cargo aircraft, seven flight officers and two mechanics, even though a higher number of military personnel was involved through rotation. It was tasked with air transportation, airdrop and electronic reconnaissance. Some 25 members of the unit were killed, among them 17 pilots and co-pilots, and three aircraft were lost. Other ROC involvement in Vietnam included a secret listening station, special reconnaissance and raiding squads, military advisers and civilian airline operations (which cost a further two aircraft due to Vietnamese individually operated AA missiles).

The ROC also provided military training units for the South Vietnamese diving units. The ROC trained units would eventually become the Lien Doi Nguoi Nhai (LDMN) or Frogman unit in English.  In addition to the diving trainers there were several hundred military personnel.  Military commandos from the ROC were captured by communist forces three times, on July 16, 1961 July 1963 and again on October 23, 1963, trying to infiltrate North Vietnam.

Spain’s Secret role

“The expedition was a secret because Franco didn’t want military ties with the United States, and much less wanted to be seen to be supporting Washington’s unilateral war against Vietnam,” says General Antonio Velázquez Rivera, then a 25-year-old lieutenant with the army medical corps. “Vietnam was the first war to be televised, and was soon being cursed around the globe,” he adds.

The first group of medical soldiers, including four doctors, seven nurses and one officer in charge of military supplies, arrived in Vietnam in 1966 and worked at Truong Cong Dinh hospital in the Go Gong district, about 45 kilometers from the capital, Saigon. From 1966 to 1971 three other groups, totaling nearly 100 Spaniards, worked at the hospital.

To avoid being seen to be publicly supporting the United States, General Franco ordered the medics to keep their activities secret. The soldiers, who completed their mission in 1971, were told to remain silent. The secret of the Spanish intervention in Vietnam was discovered by journalist Alejandro Ramírez, who published a book about it in 2005, and which was the basis for the documentary film.

In December 1965 the government of Spain announced that as a result of a request by the government of Vietnam, it would provide a medical mission of twelve to fourteen men to the Republic of Vietnam. Negotiations over support arrangements were made in co-ordination with the U.S. Agency for International Development and the Vietnamese Minister of Health. The major points of this arrangement were that the government of Spain would pay the team’s salaries and allowance, plus fifty dollars a month per member for subsistence, and the United States would pay all other costs.

It was decided to locate the team of four doctors, one quartermaster, a captain, and seven nurses in Go Cong Province in the IV Corps Tactical Zone. The team arrived in Vietnam on 8 September and on 10 September it replaced the US Military Provincial Health Assistance Program team at the province hospital in Go Cong.

*****

Support to North Vietnam

China

In 1965, China sent anti-aircraft units and engineering battalions to North Vietnam to repair the damage caused by American bombing, man anti-aircraft batteries, rebuild roads and railroads, transport supplies, and perform other engineering works. This freed North Vietnamese army units for combat in the South. China sent 320,000 troops and annual arms shipments worth $180 million. The Chinese military claims to have caused 38% of American air losses in the war.

China claimed that its military and economic aid to North Vietnam and the Viet Cong totaled $20 billion (approx. $143 billion adjusted for inflation in 2015) during the Vietnam War. Included in that aid were donations of 5 million tons of food to North Vietnam (equivalent to NV food production in a single year), accounting for 10-15% of the North Vietnamese food supply by the 1970s.

Military aid given to North Vietnam by the People’s Republic of China:

Guns – 1,922,897
Artillery pieces – 64,529
Bullets – 1,048,207,000
Artillery shells – 17,074,000
Radio transmitters – 30,808
Telephones – 48,922
Tanks – 560
Planes – 164
Automobiles – 15,771

Soviet Union

Leonid Brezhnev (left) was the leader of the Soviet Union during the second half of the Vietnam War

Soviet ships in the South China Sea gave vital early warnings to Viet Cong forces in South Vietnam. The Soviet intelligence ships would pick up American B-52 bombers flying from Okinawa and Guam. Their airspeed and direction would be noted and then relayed to COSVN, North Vietnam’s southern headquarters. Using airspeed and direction, COSVN analysts would calculate the bombing target and tell any assets to move “perpendicularly to the attack trajectory.” These advance warning gave them time to move out of the way of the bombers, and, while the bombing runs caused extensive damage, because of the early warnings from 1968 to 1970 they did not kill a single military or civilian leader in the headquarters complexes.

The Soviet Union supplied North Vietnam with medical supplies, arms, tanks, planes, helicopters, artillery, anti-aircraft missiles and other military equipment. Soviet crews fired Soviet-made surface-to-air missiles at U.S. F-4 Phantoms, which were shot down over Thanh Hóa in 1965.  Over a dozen Soviet citizens lost their lives in this conflict. Following the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991, Russian officials acknowledged that the Soviet Union had stationed up to 3,000 troops in Vietnam during the war.

 Some Russian sources give more specific numbers: Between 1953 and 1991, the hardware donated by the Soviet Union included:

Tanks – 2000

APCs – 1700 

Artillery guns – 7000

Anti-aircraft guns – 5000

Surface-to-air missile launchers – 158,

Helicopters – 120

During the war, the Soviets sent North Vietnam annual arms shipments worth $450 million.  From July 1965 to the end of 1974, fighting in Vietnam was observed by some 6,500 officers and generals, as well as more than 4,500 soldiers and sergeants of the Soviet Armed Forces. In addition, Soviet military schools and academies began training Vietnamese soldiers – in all more than 10,000 military personnel.

North Korea

As a result of a decision of the Korean Workers’ Party in October 1966, in early 1967 North Korea sent a fighter squadron to North Vietnam to back up the North Vietnamese 921st and 923rd fighter squadrons defending Hanoi. They stayed through 1968, and 200 pilots were reported to have served.

In addition, at least two anti-aircraft artillery regiments were sent as well. North Korea also sent weapons, ammunition and two million sets of uniforms to their comrades in North Vietnam. Kim Il-sung is reported to have told his pilots to “fight in the war as if the Vietnamese sky were their own”.

Cuba

The contribution to North Vietnam by the Republic of Cuba, under Fidel Castro have been recognized several times by representatives of the Democratic Republic of Vietnam.  Fidel Castro has mentioned in his discourses the Batallón Girón (Giron Battalion) as comprising the Cuban contingent that served as military advisors during the war.

  In this battalion, alongside the Cubans, fought Nguyễn Thị Định, founding member of the Viet Cong, who later became the first female Major General in the North Vietnamese Army.  

There are numerous allegations by former U.S. prisoners of war that Cuban military personnel were present at North Vietnamese prison facilities during the war and that they participated in torture activities, in what is known as the “Cuba Program Witnesses to this include Senator John McCain, former Vietnam prisoner of war, according to his 1999 book Faith of My Fathers Benjamin Gilman, a Vietnam War POW/MIA issue advocate, claim evidence that Cuba’s military and non-military involvement may have run into the “thousands” of personnel. Fidel Castro visited Quảng Trị province, held by North Vietnam after the Easter Offensive to show his support for the Viet Cong.

So there you have it.  I hope you were able to learn something new about the Vietnam War.   Personally, the only other forces I saw during my tour was the Aussies who hung out around Xaun Loc and the Iron Triangle.  Used to pass them on roads when they filed by in APC’s.  Anybody else recall seeing fighters from other countries while serving in Vietnam.  I think this article also answers one of my earlier question about seeing a blond hair Caucasian running with enemy soldiers (Russian perhaps?).   Thank you for taking the time to read through this.  Any comments?

Information used in this article was obtained from:  TalkingProud.us; War History Online; Answers.com; NZhistory.net; militaryhistoryonline.

Also, don’t forget to check out the promotion for my new book, “When Can I Stop Running?” If you haven’t read my first book, “Cherries…”, there’s a free e-book waiting for you.  Click HERE for instructions. 

I’ve added the preface and first two chapters of my new book for your reading pleasure.  Caution:  Explicit language.

The following material is copyright protected and can not be copied or used elsewhere without the written approval of this author.

Preface

Have you ever been afraid?  Truly afraid?

I’m talking about gut-wrenching fear – the kind you might experience when your very life is in danger.  If so, chances are high that your feelings of terror occurred at night.

And why is night, in particular, the scariest part of the 24-hour day?

We all know that the dark of night can be daunting and may hide mysterious things.  It’s the time of day when sound carries, and a person may be unable to identify sudden strange noises, shifting shadows or other potential threats that may or may not be real. As a result, the imagination kicks in – supposedly to help the brain make decisions – but that just adds to the uncertainty and fear.

So what exactly is fear?  The Dictionary defines it as, “an unpleasant emotion caused by the belief that someone or something is dangerous and likely to cause pain.  A threat; something that causes feelings of dread or apprehension; the anticipation that something unpleasant will occur.”

Impending danger, evil, pain – whether the threat is real or imagined – arouse this distressing emotion.  Most of the time, what you don’t see is more unnerving than what you do see.

Fear is a human adaptive response. It’s normal and even helpful to experience fear in dangerous situations. It serves a protective purpose, activating the “fight-or-flight” response in all of us. Without fear, we’d jump headlong into things we shouldn’t.  With our bodies and minds alert and ready for action, we can respond quickly and protect ourselves.

Protect us from what?  In most cases, the unknown!

Experiencing fear as children, the usual reaction was to call out to our parents for help.  If they weren’t around, then diving under a blanket or running away as fast as our legs could carry us seemed like the solution.

Of course, it’s only natural that at that young age, certain events were terrifying to us. As adults, in retrospect, we may laugh at the memory of many of those things that frightened us when we were adolescents.  However, other harrowing episodes may have left unhealed scars in our psyche, and looking back, they are not the least bit humorous to us.

For some, the very memory of being in hair-raising situations is nearly as traumatic as experiencing the actual event. Think about those men and women in the military who had deployed to a war zone, be it Vietnam, Iraq, Afghanistan, or anywhere else in the world. Step into their shoes for a moment and join them during a single patrol to seek out the enemy.  It’s like walking through a House of Horrors at a carnival.  Everyone on the team expects something to happen at any moment.  It might be an attack from an enemy soldier poised to kill you or a fellow infantryman, an unseen booby trap, or some other potentially fatal danger lurking around any corner.  Fear is constantly present and running is not an option!

Bravery is the quality of spirit that enables you to face danger or pain, while conquering your fear. It demonstrates having the utmost confidence in your training. That is how many of us in the military survived.

‘When Can I Stop Running?‘ is a story about fear and how the author (‘Polack’) dealt with it, both in Vietnam and throughout his childhood.  Readers will accompany the author and his friend and fellow grunt (‘LG’) during a night-long mission in the jungles of Vietnam.  The two lone soldiers are manning a “Listening Post,” hiding in the dense shrubbery, some 500 meters outside the firebase perimeter. The author juxtaposes his nightmarish hours in the bush with some of his most heart-pounding childhood escapades. Readers may relate to the childish antics with amusement; military veterans will find themselves relating to both captivating collections.

ONE – Firebase Lynch & Listening Post

John Kowalski and Louis Gladwell (aka ‘Polack’ and ‘LG’) drew the short straws earlier that afternoon, which meant they would be spending the night by themselves in a Listening Post roughly 500 meters outside the wire – deep in the Iron Triangle jungles of Vietnam.  In that morning’s company briefing, First Squad of First Platoon was delegated to provide two warm bodies to man one of the four Listening Posts (LP’s) for that night.  As there were seven members in the squad, they elected to use varied lengths of straws; the shortest two drawn would get the “coveted” assignment  – the assignment dreaded by all.

Four LP teams of two would be going out that night, each heading out on a compass azimuth to position themselves evenly around Firebase Lynch.  Dubbed “human early warning systems” and “bait for the enemy,” their job was only to hide, listen, and report any potential threats to the firebase.  Polack and LG were assigned the approaches from the east.  Ambush patrols were also leaving at the same time, but those squad-sized elements would be looking for a fight and would set up two clicks farther out.  Two companies, Alpha and Charlie, were providing security for the forward artillery base and would remain on ready alert in the event of a ground attack on the base, or in case one of the ambush teams got into trouble.

Both soldiers were from the Detroit area; their homes were only four miles apart on the east side of the city.  The two ‘hometown boys’ quickly discovered each other in the base and gave one another a complete run down of any news from their common neighborhood – an extremely welcome touch of home some thousands of miles away.

John was six feet tall, weighed 170 pounds, and was normally fair-complected, but the hot tropical sun had baked his skin to a dark bronze. He sported medium-brown hair, somewhat bleached out now, and a light mustache, both slightly longer than regulation.  He’d been away from the main base camp and forward fire support bases for almost a month.  Out in the jungles, personal grooming is way down on the list of daily priorities. There’s no one to impress, and nobody cares how you look.  His shaggy hair was definitely not an issue.

Louis stood a couple of inches taller, but his build was slightly on the lankier side than John’s.  He was African-American, with light, caramel-colored skin. His face was long and narrow, and his forehead and cheeks were lightly pitted with old scars.  His frizzy black Afro was picked out a little more than three inches into a perfect circle surrounding his head.  An olive drab-colored boony hat rested atop of his puff of hair, swaying and shimmying about, reacting to each movement.  LG tried growing a goatee since arriving in-country but had only acquired a dozen or so half-inch long hairs that spread across his chin.  He checked his hand mirror daily, anxious for any signs of goatee progress, not willing to give up the plan.

LG played basketball at Detroit’s Pershing High School and was named to the “All-State” team during his final two years.  He carried a newspaper clipping detailing his success in his wallet and was extremely proud of that achievement.  John also played basketball, but he had attended a Catholic high school with only two-hundred students.  Both graduated in 1969, but never had a chance to play against one another because of the separation of leagues within the city.  St. Thomas Apostle was a ‘Class D’ school due to its small size, and Pershing, a ‘Class A’ with over a thousand students.  LG flunked some classes in his first semester at college and had his scholarship revoked; Uncle Sam was quick to find him afterward.  Whenever Alpha Company spent a day or two in Cu Chi or one of these firebases, John and LG would both play basketball wherever they found a hoop mounted on a backboard.  Pick-up games were always available but they never played on the same team.  LG’s team, always the dominant force, seldom lost a game.

Polack had arrived at the main base camp for the 25th Infantry Division in Cu Chi a month before LG – which meant he had experienced a full 30 more days of bunker guard, going out on patrols, and living through ambushes while humping through the jungle.  You learned quickly in-county – there was no other choice – but time passed slowly, and a month of experience was worth a great deal there.  Because he was grateful to his own mentors after his arrival at the camp, Polack was eager to help other ‘Cherries’ learn the ropes.  LG – as irrepressible as he was – sensed Polack’s sincerity, and appreciated his comraderie.  LG had a quick smile, and a mischievous sense of humor.  It wasn’t long before the two became best buds.  Although they were not in the same squad, both were part of the 1st platoon, 1st Battalion, 27th Infantry Wolfhounds, which operated in the areas northwest of Saigon.

“Hey brother man,” Polack called over to his partner, a smirk growing on his face, “you gonna tie down that boony hat?”

LG looked at Polack with an incredulous look on his face.  Before he could respond, Polack added, “You do know that if you sneeze, or there’s a sudden breeze, that hat’s gonna take flight and fly with the wind.”

LG suddenly realized the dig, rolled his eyes and shot Polack a one finger salute.  “You know, man, I don’t understand why I gotta wear this thing at all.  It’s fucking up my ‘do!”  LG reached up to ensure that his boony hat was still in place, and the ball of hair remained centered above his head.

“You’re trippin, man!  If you go out without a hat, you’ll come back with a commune of bugs living in your hair. You should put it on the right way,” Polack suggested.

“It ain’t gonna happen, my brother.  I sprayed bug juice in my hair –  notice the sheen?” LG primped his hair again. “That should stop them bugs from getting in.  Besides, I’ve worked too hard on this over the last week just to let it get fucked up on an overnight.”

Polack laughed, “Don’t forget that RTO’s get picked off by snipers because of their antennae, which, by the way, are much shorter than you and your floating lid.”

“Ha – Ha,” LG mocked sarcastically, “It don’t mean nothin’.”

Just as LG finished his sentence, another shirtless African-American soldier arrived.  His Afro hairstyle was identical to LG’s, but instead of a hat, a long, black metal hair pick (“rake”) stuck out from his ball of hair.  It sat off to the side, and, worn like a tilted crown, reminded John of how Jughead wore his hat in the ‘Archie’ comic books.  His skin color was like dark chocolate, and there was a twenty-inch braided black shoelace encircling his neck; a four-inch braided cross hung from the necklace and dangled over his chest.  A similarly fashioned two-inch wide black bracelet ringed his right wrist.  His boots were untied and unlaced from half of the eyelets; the laces tucked inside.  ‘Exceptionally casual today…he must think he’s back home in Alabama,’ John thought.

The soldier wore a black leather holster on his right hip, the flap securing a military .45 caliber pistol.  His jungle fatigues were worn, faded, and two sizes too big.  James smiled and his perfect white teeth gleamed in the receding sunlight.  A member of the First Platoon, he was a scrawny guy from Mobile and stood at least six inches shorter than the rest of his brethren in the platoon.  As a result of his size, James often volunteered to check out enemy tunnels whenever the First Platoon uncovered them.  As a tunnel rat, he’d soon find himself spending a lot of time underground after the Wolfhounds would discover dozens of tunnels and caches in this area during the coming months.

James and his squad spent the day humping through the jungle and turned up in the general area where Polack and LG were staying that night.

“Hey, Bloooooods,” he called, dragging out the pronunciation of the second word in a long drawl.  In his left hand, James held an ice-cold can of Coke, which sweated profusely in the humid air, moisture running down and dripping onto the ground.  He moved in front of LG, held out his right fist waist-high between the two men, and then began a ritual handshake referred to as ‘DAP.’  Their hands moved up and down each other’s arms, touching shoulders, snapping fingers, beating chests, slapping palms, bumping fists, and finally ending in a traditional brotherhood handshake.

“Y’all need to be careful out there tonight,” he stated without missing a beat.  “We saw beaucoup signs out on the trails today; a blind man could see that Charlie – and I mean lots of them – are out there just diddy-bopping along like they own the place.”  Finished with the greeting, James moved to Polack, and they began the ritual while he continued, “This be a bad mofo, my brothers, the smell of death is everywhere.  Every hair on the back of my neck stood tall the whole time we humped today. There was also something in the air…hard to explain…a feeling!  You know the one you get when you think somebody’s laying back and watching you from the shadows?”  Finishing his greeting, James stepped back a couple of paces.

Polack and LG both listened intently and could only shake their heads in affirmation while waiting for James to continue.

“Well, that’s how it was, my brothers.  We didn’t see any of them today, but I do know for sure the man’s out there, scoping us out and putting a plan together.  You brothers keep your heads down and don’t be no heroes out there.”  James raised the can of Coke and chugged it until empty.

“Damn, this shit is good!  You want me to get y’all one?”

“No time, James, but thanks for the offer, brother,” LG responded for the pair.

“Well, look here,” James drawled, crushing the empty Coke can and tossing it into the nearby garbage barrel.  “I just wanted to make sure I caught y’all before leaving so I could throw some luck your way!  I’m hip about spending the night in the dark jungle, especially as part of an LP – I do know it can be a motherfucker!  The beast is out there and will try to fuck with your head.   Stay sharp, be strong, and don’t let it in!”

Polack and LG smiled and chimed together in responding,  “Thanks, brother man!”

“We’ll be cool,” Polack added.

“Well, alright then!  See y’all in the morning.”  The three soldiers slapped low outstretched hands and James turned to leave.  Before walking away, he looked up to LG’s head,

“I like what you doin’ with the new ‘do, brother.  Lookin’ good!”  The compliment resulted in an enormous smile from the tallest of the trio.  “But that hat got to go, my man!” LG’s smile quickly disappeared, replaced by the frown he’d worn earlier.  James raised his right fist and softly beat it against his chest once then walked away toward the mess tent shaking his head back and forth in amusement.

The two men returned the salute and then turned to one another.

“So what you think, Polack?”

“About what?  Your hat?”

“Naw, man!  Fuck the hat!” LG kicked at the ground in retaliation, his toe upending a divot of dirt that sailed toward his partner, found its mark, and covered his boots in a shower of red dust.

Polack jumped in surprise. “What the…?”  he started to say in annoyance, but stopped when he saw LG’s wide grin.   Both men burst out laughing and after a few seconds slapped hands before resuming gathering their supplies.

LG was first to speak up,

“Come on, bro, let’s be serious here.”  The tall man spread out his hands, palms up, in a pleading gesture.

Polack’s demeanor changed.

“Okay, okay!  Lay it on me,” Polack conceded, tucking his hands into the back pockets of his trousers and appearing more attentive.

Polack couldn’t help but notice that the scene surrounding the two men was a beehive of activity.  Dusk was only thirty minutes away, and troops across the firebase were scrambling to prepare for the coming night.  Artillery crews worked on the battery of six Howitzers. Men were busy removing 105 mm rounds from storage containers and tossing the empty wooden crates onto the other side of the wall of sandbags surrounding the guns.  In the morning, a work detail would fill these with dirt and use them to build living quarters for others on the firebase.

The teams leaving the firebase at night would travel lightly without the extra weight of rucksacks, helmets, and food.  Each man would carry only the bare necessities: weapons, extra ammo, trip flares, claymore mines, grenades, camouflaged poncho liners tied to the back of their web gear, and one PRC-25 radio per group.  The heat and humidity took a toll on everyone during the day, but the nights were extremely chilly and damp.  Poncho liners kept them warm; soldiers cocooned themselves, using the liners as shields against the jungle bugs – especially the swarms of mosquitoes.  All four ambush squads carried an M-60 machine gun and extra belts of ammo; each member also had a single belt of 100 rounds to support the gun.

Scanning the camp, Polack noticed individual groups of four soldiers strolling toward the eight perimeter bunkers.  Weapons and web gear hung limply from their shoulders; lightweight poncho liners poked out from under arms, some rolled and others just gathered up into a ball.  Most carried a single green sock in one hand, usually filled with C-Ration canned desserts such as peaches, apricots, pound cake, or pecan rolls – popular treats, but difficult to obtain.  Those highly-prized items were frequently used in bartering with others for something the men might need to help get them through the long, boring night: books, magazines, letters or writing materials, which stuck out of pockets all around.  Most soldiers hoped to read and write what they could before it became too dark to see.  Troops tossed empty soda cans into nearby trash barrels in passing and shared laughs among themselves en route.  They pulled guard duty in the bunkers from 1800 hours until 0600 hours – two men on, and two sleeping, switching every two hours.

Farther away, other foursomes played “grabass” and horsed around, tossing pebbles at one another, then snatching each other’s boony hats while playing “keep away”: a single moment of innocence and an opportunity to act like other boys their age back home.

Before long, it’s shift-change on the bunker line and time to relieve the two soldiers who’ve been there since daybreak.  They’ll be given just enough time to catch a meal at the mess tent, and then relax a bit in a square, makeshift structure fabricated from artillery wooden crates, perforated metal planks (PSP), dirt, and sandbags.  Each of those windowless units was large enough to provide shade and shelter for a squad of soldiers sleeping in hammocks.  Fortunately, they were newly constructed, and rats hadn’t had a chance to move in yet.  Sleep would come easy for them until the scavengers invaded!

“I’m talking about what James said about all the gooks out there,” LG ranted, breaking through Polack’s observations.  “It’s going to be bad enough out there in the pitch black jungle with us having to fight bugs and creatures, and lay there and smell that rotten, dying shit because of that damn weed killer they sprayed all over, and now we gotta worry about gooks sneaking up on us this close to the firebase.”

“Relax, G.  Tonight won’t be any different than all the other times we pulled LP or went out on night ambushes.  Nothing has changed, my man.”

“Yeah, but this is the Triangle, bro.  The area’s got a rep, and folks sayin’ there’s nothin’ but gooks and death everywhere.”

“So it’s got a rep – big deal,” Polack looked directly into LG’s brown eyes. “We’ve been in places just as bad, if not worse.”  LG’s eyes glinted; a questioning look crossing his face.  Polack continued, “Did the Hobo Woods have a rep?”

“Yeah,” LG mumbled.

“What about the Michelin Rubber Plantation?”

“Yep.”

“Xuan Loc?”

“Okay, okay, I get it!” the gangly soldier groaned.  “All of the ‘Nam has a rep.”

“And we’re still here, right?”

“You right, my brother,” LG acknowledged, “but tonight just feels different to me.”  LG looked at the ground, awaiting encouragement.

“It should feel different.” Polack emphasized. “This is a new place for us, and it’s the first time we’re going outside the wire.  Neither one of us knows what’s out there.  The unknown will try to fuck with us tonight.  I know it can be a bitch.  Just don’t freak out on me, G!”

LG looked at his partner. “You mean to tell me that this shit don’t bother you?”

“I didn’t say that, bro.  I hate the night.  Always did!  The night scares me more than the gooks,” Polack hesitated for a moment, trying to vanquish the disturbing sensation he felt.  LG stood in place, wide-eyed, listening intently and looking stunned.  “I do feel better knowing that you’ll be out there with me, G.  And tonight, we only have to hide and listen.  We’ll be invisible, and the Beast won’t find us.  Let it go, brother!”

LG looked relieved.  “Yeah, you right, we’ve got each other’s backs.  Fuck the Beast!”

The two men slapped hands again.

Polack looked toward the main gate and noted that the rest of his group was painting up. “We need to finish up here and head over to Rock’s squad for our final check.”

LG glanced over to the gate and rolled his eyes, “It’s time for make-up.” He stepped in front of Polack with two camouflage sticks, immediately rubbing alternating black and green stripes on his friend’s face and hands.  When no more white skin was showing, a satisfied LG handed the sticks to Polack and waited for him to reciprocate. “Now we almost the same color, brother!”, he grinned.

The PRC-25 radio attached onto an aluminum frame with a “quick drop” harness. When engaged, it allowed the RTO to dump his rucksack quickly in the event of an ambush or some other emergency. That night, however, LG left the frame behind and instead connected a strap to the 26-pound radio, letting it hang from his right shoulder. To balance the weight, a canvas bag filled with baseball grenades and two claymore mines hung heavily from his left shoulder.  Polack carried a canvas bag on each shoulder, both filled with flares, grenades, one claymore mine and smoke grenades.

LG snatched his rifle from the wall of sandbags and held it by the handle in his right hand.

“You ready for this?” he asked.

“Let’s do it!”  Polack shot back.

They walked to the gate and got into line with the nine other soldiers in Sgt. Rock’s squad.  The non-commissioned officer wore a holster bearing a .45 caliber pistol on his hip and completed a personal inspection of each man in the line.  When he came to LG, the esteemed NCO quickly reached up with both hands and snatched the sides of LG’s boony hat, forcefully yanking it down hard.  The brim bottomed out on the man’s ears; the crown strained to fit over the thick puff of hair, forcing clumps of unruly frizz to poke out comically from the sides.  LG was stunned and stood with his mouth agape, mollified and speechless.

“This isn’t the time to make a fashion statement, LG!” Sgt. Rock snarled.  He folded his muscular arms across his barrel chest, backed up a step and glared into the tall soldier’s eyes, soliciting snickers from the line of soldiers.

LG, embarrassed now, decided to leave his hat right where it was.  He looked down and stammered meekly, “Sorry, Rock!”

Rock pursed his lips and nodded to the man,

“Don’t do that again, troop!”

When Rock walked away, Polack couldn’t resist and stifled a chuckle.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn ya, bud!”

LG could only scowl at his partner, still taken aback at what had just happened.

Sgt. Rock spread a map out on the ground.

“Okay guys, gather around and listen up.”

Firebase Lynch stood on a patch of land not far from the city of Xuan Loc and within the footprint of an area identified as the Iron Triangle.  Three lines were drawn on a map outlining the 125 square miles of thick forests and rubber trees.  The three points of the triangle connected the towns of  Ben Cat, Ben Suc, and Phu Hoa.  The Boi Loi and Hobo Woods bordered the Triangle along one side and the Fil Hol and Michelin Rubber Plantation on the other.  The Iron Triangle was known to be an enemy stronghold filled with miles of tunnels, underground hospitals, training centers, base camps and rest points dating back to before World War II.  In the early part of the war, American and Army of the Republic of Vietnam (ARVN) forces destroyed most of the villages in the Triangle and relocated those families to new facilities in a different area of the country.  Much of the Triangle became a “free fire zone” meaning that curfews didn’t apply and anyone out and about was considered the enemy – soldiers were expected to shoot there first without requiring clearance.  Those remaining villages on the outskirts of the Triangle were extremely supportive of both the Viet Cong (VC) and North Vietnamese Army (NVA) troops, making the fight to drive out the enemy almost impossible.  The Triangle was always a major gateway between the infamous Ho Chi Minh trail in Cambodia and Saigon, the capital of South Vietnam.

The Iron Triangle had lost much of its concealment over time, a result of the U.S. military spraying a defoliant called “Agent Orange” throughout the zone.  A majority of the foliage had since rotted and decayed, leaving swatches of thinned out and barren earth in its wake.  All the porous tree stumps became havens for red ants, spiders, horseflies, and other crawling insects, which feasted on the rotting vegetation.  Red ants stung unmercifully; horseflies left painful welts after biting their victims, and a hundred different varieties of spiders sent chills down the spines of young soldiers from both sides.

However, a large portion of the jungle within the Triangle remained intact and continued to provide concealment for hundreds of active infiltration routes.  The U.S. Army deemed it necessary to build a firebase and inserted the 1st Battalion Wolfhounds of the 25th Infantry Division into this quagmire to once again try to stop the flow of fresh enemy troops and supplies.

During the previous few days, recon patrols operating around the firebase had located different trails, all showing recent heavy activity, and some were within a couple of clicks of the firebase.  The battalion leadership, concerned about their proximity, concentrated their efforts on these trails and kept squad-sized units patrolling within four clicks of the wire.  Colonel Smith and his staff identified primary and secondary ambush locations and places where the LP’s could hole up each night.  During the briefing two hours earlier, squad leaders were given small topographical maps of the area; routes were identified and final destinations circled with a red grease pencil.  Team leaders would conduct final briefings with their teams just before departure, which is what Sgt. Rock was doing at the moment.  He went over the assigned primary and alternate bush locations, radio call signs, and had the men conduct a weapons check.  Just before leaving, Rock conducted another physical inspection of each squad member to ensure shirt sleeves were down completely, all exposed skin was covered with camouflage paint, all specified supplies were available, and finally, that nothing rattled.  Afterward, the men hurriedly took last drags of their cigarettes before stomping the butts into the earth.  Once outside of the firebase, there was no smoking, talking or eating until their return the following morning.

Rock led his squad through the gate, leaving the relative safety of the firebase.  The engineers had plowed back the jungle 200 meters beyond the wire, providing those guards on the perimeter an unobstructed view to open fields of fire to repel enemy ground attacks.  However, the ground was uneven and covered with large, deep tracks from the heavy equipment.  Exposed tree roots, pieces of tree bark, branches and bowling ball-sized chunks of clay added to the obstacle course, making the march in the twilight hazardous for the single file of eleven soldiers.  The point man followed a compass azimuth of 90 degrees (due east) leading into the jungle.  Once they entered, most of the light disappeared, forcing the line of soldiers to tighten up their distance between one another and not lose sight of the man in front of him.  After advancing along the trail for about ten minutes, Sgt. Rock stopped the squad when they came upon an intersecting path, then touched Polack and LG on the shoulder, and pointed silently to a clump of bushes about twenty feet to their left.  The two men stepped out of line; the remaining soldiers began moving again, each man offering either a thumbs-up or a peace sign to the two soldiers as they passed.  Within seconds, they had vanished into the darkness.

Polack led the way down the trail, moving twenty paces before stepping off and breaking a path through the chosen clump of thick brush until reaching a small hollowed out depression twenty more paces above the trail. This was a great spot for the night listening post.  Two small trees, only inches apart, stretched up from the ground at the rear of the eight-foot diameter depression, their trunks, as thick as Polack’s thigh, would provide adequate back support for both men. Their position was encircled by thick, thorny brush, hanging vines, and other seemingly impenetrable jungle vegetation.  One hundred feet overhead, the jungle canopy swayed gently in the breeze, releasing leaves to fall and gather on the damp ground.

Polack looked inquisitively at LG, awaiting his concurrence.  LG quickly scanned the area and gave his approval by raising his right hand and giving Polack the “OK” sign.

With visibility at just ten feet, both men had to hustle and ready their position before it was too dark to see.  Polack took the radio, placed it between the two trees, then double-checked the frequency.  Finding the dials locked in the correct positions, he snatched up the handset, depressed the button on the side, and whispered into the mouthpiece, “Thunder 3, this is Lima Papa 1. Radio check, over.”

“This is Thunder 3, we have you, Lima Charlie, how me?  Over,” a monotone voice responded, informing him that the transmission was heard “loud and clear” on the other end.  The volume was somewhat blaring and metallic in his ear, but Polack recognized the voice belonging to Red, a member of the Alpha Company CP.

Smiling, he quickly turned down the volume and responded, “This is Lima Papa 1, have you same-same.  Be advised we are in our designated position, over,” Polack answered quietly.

“Roger Lima Papa 1, stay safe, out.”

While Polack conducted the radio check, LG crawled out and positioned his two claymore mines so one pointed toward the large trail and the other to their front.  He fed the wires back through the brush, plugged the ends into a clacker (arming device), and set them on the ground in front of the radio.  After the commo check, Polack quickly crawled out diagonally to his left about thirty feet and positioned his claymore mine to cover the left approach of the trail.  He returned after two minutes, armed his mine, then laid the trigger next to the other two.  The three firing devices lay on the ground side by side, pointing in the direction covered by each mine.  In the event that their position became compromised from one of those directions, the correct device was readily available and could be fired within seconds.  The last thing they did in the quickly fading twilight was to straighten the safety pins on their grenades and place them in a row in front of the claymore devices.

In this LP, both men understood their assignment: sit, listen and report any enemy movement during the night.  Firing a weapon in the darkness would immediately expose their position, enabling the enemy to find and kill them.  The mines and grenades offered a line of defense without giving away their position.  If discovered, both men were to take whatever action necessary to protect themselves and evade the enemy while attempting to return to the firebase.

Polack and LG sat in the depression and used the two trees for back rests, the radio and armaments were in place on the ground and within reach between them.  Trying to get comfortable, both men happened to catch each others eyes, barely visible in the darkness.  LG offered a weak smile of confidence which Polack quickly returned.  Both bumped fists in a mini-DAP and settled in for the long night.

Polack picked up the radio handset, cradled it on his shoulder, and then tapped LG to get his attention. Seeing only the whites of his eyes, Polack pointed to himself then to the luminous dial on his watch, and held up two fingers close to LG’s face, hoping LG was able to see them.  LG responded with the “OK” sign, equally close to Polack’s face, then covered himself with his poncho liner, understanding that Polack was taking the first watch and would wake him in two hours.

At not yet seven in the evening, the light of the crescent moon wasn’t bright enough to penetrate the thick foliage.  Soon it was so dark that Polack was unable to see his own hand moving only inches in front of his face.  He blinked a few times just to verify that his eyes were open.  It was no use; whether they were open or closed, he could see nothing.

As the nocturnal creatures woke, the cacophony of their various sounds carried through the darkness.  This symphony was sure to grow louder as the night progressed.  Right then, it was calming in a way, and one could imagine that all the individual mating calls were timed and repeated in a closed loop. If the noise stopped, then it was time to worry.

Polack hated the dark, especially when it was like this.  Everything was shaded either dark gray or ink black without a sign of color anywhere.  With eyes opened or closed, it was all the same, and he felt as claustrophobic as if sitting in a small closet in the middle of the night.  In addition, the rotting smell of dead vegetation as a result of the defoliant Agent Orange made him nauseous.  His hearing now enhanced, his mind actively tried to absorb all the sounds, applying filters to help recognize those which did not belong.  Adrenaline was ready to soar – just waiting for the right signal.

LG’s breathing settled into a steady rhythm, making it clear that he was sound asleep.  Without any visual stimuli to keep his mind occupied, it had a tendency to wander, and in this case, caused Polack to get lost in his thoughts.  A memory jumped out, sending him back to the age of seven…

TWO – The Basement

Let’s face it, darkness can be scary.  Being in the dark can sometimes give you the unnerving feeling that you are being watched.  Children everywhere may feel nervous about closets and the “spooky” space under their beds, but while those patches of darkness can be intimidating for some, for me, there was a much creepier place: our basement.  Built in the 1930’s, our house in Detroit had an unfinished basement typical of most in the neighborhood, and its basement was dark and cellar-like.  When my parents sent any of us kids downstairs on an errand after dark, it was considered a sure death sentence.

  Early one day, at the tender age of seven, I accompanied my mother into the basement when it was time to change loads in the washing machine.  Although shafts of sunlight glared brightly through the high window panes, she did turn on the light over our old wringer-style washing machine.  Nevertheless, I followed right on her heels, making sure that I stayed close, and that I kept her in between me and that monstrous old furnace. 

I watched Mom as she pulled an article of sopping wet clothing from the barrel of the washing machine and fed it cautiously into the mouth of two horizontal rollers just above the basin.  Clothes were crushed by this powerful squeezing process resulting in a steady stream of water that fell into a nearby washtub.  A wild whirlpool of water spun over the drain in the center until the last item of clothing fell into the basket with a thud.

Why is it that when somebody tells a child that he or she shouldn’t do something, it seems more like a dare? While Mom continued to feed articles of clothing through the crusher, she cautioned me, “Be very careful of these rollers. They’ll catch your fingers and crush them if you’re not paying attention!”  (Note to self: “Investigate that roller thingy when I get a chance.”)

While Mom was busy with the laundry, I used the time to study my surroundings.  Several four-inch wide cast iron poles stood like sentinels every ten feet.  Old furniture, stored haphazardly on the floor and draped with white bed sheets looked eerie, even during the day.  Wooden boxes contained tools and other miscellaneous junk. Dozens of them were stacked adjacent to the ghostly-looking furniture that ran the length of the remaining wall.  Then, of course, the huge, ugly furnace – looking like a torture chamber from the Dark Ages – took up much of the floor space near the rear corner. 

Our basement lighting was sparse and comprised of just a few lights strategically placed on the ceiling.  Every light had a pull-cord or chain attached to turn it on and off.  A bare light bulb above the washing machine hung from the end of a foot-long electrical cord and swayed back and forth, casting animated waves of light into the shadows, worsening any sense of foreboding that already existed.

Three small storage rooms lined the far end of the basement.  I wasn’t sure if the homemade plywood doors were meant to keep the things inside hidden from strangers, or to keep the things inside from getting out.  The left-most room stored coal and kindling wood for the winter.  The middle room was full of Christmas ornaments, Halloween decorations and out-of-season clothing, which hung from hangers on a horizontal metal pipe.  The far right room was a pantry filled with dozens of home-canned glass jars of vegetables and fruits stored on shelves, and boxes filled with empty extra jars, lids and screw-on rings.  I should also mention that the pantry door was in the corner behind the behemoth furnace. 

It was time well spent, as I was able to plot a mental route from the stairway to the storage rooms at the far end of the dungeon-like setting. I felt the need to have a plan, just in case I ever had to come down here alone, which by the way, happened later that night.

After dinner, while Mom was busy washing dishes, she asked me to run down to the basement and bring up her short, brown winter jacket with the fur collar from the center storage room. She mentioned that the weather had turned chilly and that she would need it to wear to church the following morning. I stood there for a moment, stunned, and thinking hard for a way to get out of it!  I was pretty sure that something evil lived behind each of the doors down there, waiting patiently in the pitch darkness for some unsuspecting schmuck like me to let it out. I was extremely anxious and felt veritably rooted to the kitchen floor. 

My mother, seeing my apprehension, usually had to prod me (and sometimes threaten me) to get me moving.  I remember her exasperation, finally warning me: “There’s nothing down there that can hurt you.  Get moving before I lock you down there for good!”  My father’s voice then boomed from the living room, “Johnny, be a man!”  Hell, I was only seven years old and far from being a man, but I couldn’t let my father down.  There was no way out of this; I had to do it!

The dim lightbulb at the top of the stairs provided just enough artificial light to expose the stairway and cinderblock wall beyond the final step.  I remember venturing down the staircase ever so slowly, keeping my eyes focused on the darkness ahead and then taking a break to catch my breath on the bottom step. 

I stood perfectly still, staring intently into the darkness, contemplating my next move.  A chill suddenly ran down my spine when I heard a creak near the furnace.  I was positive something evil was hiding in the shadows behind the old coal burner, patiently waiting for me to move forward into the darkness.  My racing heart caused beads of sweat to gather on my forehead, a single drop broke away and found its way into my right eye.  My vision blurred and I began to panic.  The last thing I wanted to do was close my eyes until the sweat washed away, and I could see again.  That was not an option, as the monsters would be all over me within seconds. I quickly wiped my eye and forehead with my shirt sleeve, ready to bolt at the first sign of the slightest movement. 

My route and timing had to be spot-on through this obstacle course, or I’d end up lost in the dark and probably die within 30 seconds.  Ready or not, it was time to go!

I took one last deep breath and then leaped into the darkness, jumping up to reach the pull chains of every light as quickly as possible to keep the hidden monsters at bay.  Finally, I was standing at door number two.

I don’t care how many times I performed this task – the process never changed.  The doors all opened outward and had small handles positioned on the left side, hinges on the right.  Moving to my left a few steps, I’d hold my breath and approach the door from an angle, shuffling my feet only inches at a time.  I made sure to keep my body clear of the door’s swinging path in the event that somebody hiding inside tried to use a battering ram.  Once there, I’d slide my right foot forward and jam it into the small gap at the bottom of the door.   With shaking hands, I unhooked the latch.  I had a rule about waiting a full five seconds to be sure that nothing tried to force its way out; then I’d swing the door open completely.  Stale and musty odors permeated through the open doorway –  nothing vile there, just typical old, unfinished basement smells. 

The next element in this challenge was for me to step slowly into the darkness and locate the hanging light in the center of the eight by eight-foot room.  I’d raise my arms and wave them in front of my face, taking small baby steps, until finally snagging the chain from the hanging light and quickly pulling it down to light up the room. 

That evening, I lucked out and immediately spotted Mom’s jacket on the overhead bar.  Once I had it in hand, I had to execute my escape plan from this nightmarish place.  Taking a few deep breaths in and exhaling out of my mouth slowly, I yanked down on the light chain and jumped free of the room.  Slamming the door, I leaned against it to prevent whatever might have been hiding in the shadows from getting out and grabbing me.  All that remained was for me to lock the door and hightail it out of there.  After re-hooking the door, I placed my foot at the base of the plywood door and prepared myself as a runner might in starting blocks. 

After hearing a silent signal in my head, I launched myself across the length of the basement, pulling down on every light chain while aiming for the stairs.  Once there, I charged up the steps, two at a time, and jumped headfirst through the open doorway, landing hard on the kitchen floor.  My foot automatically pushed out and caught the edge of the wooden door behind me, sending it on its arc at a speed slightly less than sound.  The metal hinges screeched briefly in protest before a deafening slam, announcing the journey’s end, and startling everyone in the house.  Reaching up, I engaged the latch.  Start to finish, the entire process took less than five minutes. 

My mission into Hell was a success and I could now take a deep breath to celebrate.  My feeling of self-gratification, however, was soon interrupted by Mom. She proceeded to scold me for making such a production out of a simple trip to the basement, citing that the sudden banging noise had stopped her heart. ‘If she only knew,’ I thought.

Of course, my fear of our basement diminished when I got older.  When I was 12 years old, my father properly introduced me to the furnace.  He taught me how to stoke a fire, add coal, and remove ashes through the heavy iron door at the bottom of the huge furnace.  It still looked like a giant octopus hung upside down from the ceiling with tentacles (the round circular duct work) jutting out in all directions.  It became my job to check the fire before and after school.  It wasn’t long before I was assigned the full-time responsibility of maintaining the furnace during the winter months, occasionally requiring visits in the middle of the night to get the fire going again.  This job continued for the next couple of years until my parents saved enough money to purchase a new furnace.  Thankfully, they converted to gas heat.

Later, when I discovered an interest in girls, the basement became my friend.  I found a used couch and television set at the local Salvation Army and set up a small area to socialize with friends of both genders.  At times, one or more of us spent the night amongst the shadows, not worried in the least.

As I got older, I do remember occasionally asking my younger sister or brother to fetch something from the basement for me.  It was like asking them to descend into a crypt!  Neither of them would go.  Instead they would suddenly become “busy” or would disappear into their rooms, leaving me to retrieve the article myself.  I became irritated with their attitude…until I remembered my own past fear of the shadows and unknown creatures lurking below.  END OF SAMPLE***

Thanks for taking the time to read a portion of my new story.  If you enjoyed reading this sample of “When Can I Stop Running?” and want to purchase the book, then please click on one of the following links:

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Personally autographed printed copy:  Contact me via email (john.podlaski@gmail.com)

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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Many of us baby boomers saw this movie while coming of age and thought it was the greatest of all time.  Even today, we’ll watch it again for the umpteenth time.  Why are people drawn to this film?  The Great Escape, immortalized by Hollywood and Steve McQueen and internationally famous as an extraordinary story of courage and ingenuity. It was also true and did happen.

Although this is not a story about Vietnam,  I thought it important to share with you as seeing “the movie” is something we may all have in common.

The real Stammlager Luft III, more commonly known as Stalag Luft III was a Luftwaffe-run prisoner-of-war camp during World War II housing captured allied airmen. It was situated in the German Province of Lower Silesia near the town of Sagan (now Żagań in Poland) about 100 miles south east of Berlin.

The site was selected because it would be difficult to escape by tunneling. As many people know, though, the camp is best known for its two prisoner escapes that took place by tunneling – as portrayed in the films The Great Escape (1963) and The Wooden Horse (1950), and the books by former prisoners Paul Brickhill and Eric Williams from which the films were adapted (very loosely, in the case of The Great Escape).

Escape impossible?

Stalag Luft III had a number of features that made escape extremely difficult – those in charge of the camp bragged that it was “escape proof”.

Construction of escape tunnels, in particular, was discouraged by several factors. The barracks housing the prisoners were raised off the ground to help guards detect any tunneling activity.

Secondly, the camp was constructed on a very sandy subsoil. This subsoil was bright yellow, making it easily detected if put on the surface soil (which was a grey dust) and visible on clothing. The loose, collapsible sand also meant the structural integrity of a tunnel would be very poor.

A final defense against tunnel construction was the use of seismograph microphones around the perimeter of the camp to detect any sounds of digging.

Despite huge interest in the subject, encouraged by the film starring Steve McQueen, the tunnel remained undisturbed over the decades because it was behind the Iron Curtain and the Soviet authorities had no interest in its  significance.

As a special bonus, I’ve attached four short videos (34 minutes in total), “The Making of the Great Escape” for a first-hand look to see how Hollywood made this great film.  I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

When was the Vietnam War?

Where was the Vietnam War fought?

What was the purpose of the Vietnam War?

What happened during the Vietnam War?

How many people died in the Vietnam War?

What are some popular Vietnam war stories?

Time to Celebrate!

Six years ago, I created this website to promote my new book and offer readers a place to voice their opinion and ask questions.  Since then, I’ve added posts, pictures, videos, music and anything else relating to the Vietnam War or its veterans.  As a result, this website has grown to 235 plus articles and pages and is still growing as I aim for something new every week.  Over the last six months, I’ve seen an increase in traffic – averaging almost 2,000 hits a day.  Visitors are current students, veterans, their families, former POW’s, friends, and a few, here and there, who have actually read my books.  It’s my intent to continue publishing posts that are both informative and educational; thus, maintaining a high level of awareness about the Vietnam War, and keeping the spirit, memories, and sacrifices alive for generations to come.  Always remember:  Those who served in the Vietnam War were the BEST America had at the time!

Note to all:  If you have published a Vietnam War  article elsewhere or would like to publish here, I’m looking for guest bloggers to relate stories – especially those from the “Brown Water Navy” and “River Rats”.   This is an area that I have zero articles about and would really like to add some.  If you’ve published a book about your experiences in the Delta area, then feel free to provide a chapter or two as samples of your story, and I’ll include the link to where the book is sold.  Contact me via personal mail if you are interested (john.podlaski@gmail.com).

So, to celebrate this milestone…I’m going to give away 50 digital copies of each of my two books – first come until they’re gone.  The links are imbedded in the book covers below (click on them) and you’ll be redirected to Smashwords.com where you’ll download a digital copy in a format of your choice.  Use the codes below at checkout!

Thank you all for making this website a success!

Click on the book of your choice below to be redirected – use the individual code during checkout:

Cherries Code:   CD22A                                            Running Code:   NT83X

This article is dedicated to my Vietnam Brother, Del Ligon, who insisted that I write something about the Marines and the first real battle of the Vietnam War.  Okay, brother…here it is!

Date:  Aug 17 1965 to Aug 24 1965

Operation Starlite (also known in Vietnam as Battle of Van Tuong) was the first major offensive regimental size action conducted by a purely U.S. military unit during the Vietnam War.  A deserter from the Vietcong 1st Regiment informed General Thi of a major build-up of enemy Main Force units in the Van Tuong village complex, twelve miles southeast of Chu Lai along the coast. The VC goal was to achieve a great psychological victory by surprising the isolated marine base at Chu Lai in the first major engagement between American and enemy forces.  General Thi, informing none of his own subordinates, immediately relayed the information to General Walt. Marine intelligence had by this time received sufficient evidence on its own to corroborate the deserter’s story. Colonel Edwin Simmons, newly arrived operations officer for III MAF, recommended a “spoiling attack” to prevent the anticipated VC strike against Chu Lal.

The operation was originally called Satellite, but a power blackout led to a clerical error and a clerk working by candlelight typed “Starlite” instead. It was launched on D-Day August 18, 1965, involving 5,500 Marines. Regimental 2nd Battalion 4th Marines (2/4), 1st Battalion, 7th Marines (1/7) and 3rd Battalion 3rd Marines (3/3), and 3rd Battalion 7th Marines (3/7) the SLF – permission was granted by Admiral Sharp to use Special Landing Force and originally a reserve component – in an assault on the Viet Cong base near Van Tuong. The United States Navy’s USS Galveston (CLG-3) and USS Cabildo (LSD-16) were available for naval gunfire support and 3rd Battalion 12th Marines was the artillery unit in direct support. USS Vernon County (LST-1161)embarked elements of the 3d Battalion, 3d Marines (Battalion Landing Team) (BLT) 3, under Lieutenant Colonel Joseph E. Muir, USMC, at Chu Lai, and sailed south along the coast to An Thuong, where she put the troops ashore in one phase of “Starlite.”

Viet Cong forces comprised the 1st VC Regiment made up of the 60th and 80th VC Battalions, the 52nd VC Company, and a company of the 45th VC Weapons Battalion. The total Viet Cong strength was around 1,500 men, and backed by several elite mortar units.  It would be a very different battle for the Vietcong, accustomed to fighting with their backs to the sea, knowing that against South Vietnamese forces the water could always be used as an avenue of escape.

The timing was fortuitous. The arrival of reinforcements at the Chu Lai base on August 14 enabled Walt to reassign two experienced combat battalions, 2d Battalion of the 4th Marines (or 2/4), and 3d Battalion, 3d Marines (3/3) to the command of Colonel Oscar F. Peatross, commander of the 7th Marines. In addition, another marine battalion, afloat offshore, served as a reserve force that could be thrown into the battle when and where necessary. Finally, two U.S. Navy ships in the area, the U.S.S. Galveston and U.S.S. Cabildo, could provide offshore fire support. The operation, code-named Starlite, would be a classic marine encounter, combining land and sea forces, including an amphibious landing and coordination with the navy.

 

 

 

Aftermath of victory

 

Profiles in Courage: Charles S. Kettles

During the early morning hours of May 15, 1967, personnel of the 1st Brigade, 101st Airborne Division, were ambushed in the Song Tra Cau riverbed near the Duc Pho District in the South Central Coast of Vietnam by an estimated battalion-sized force of the North Vietnamese Army. The NVA attacked with numerous automatic weapons, machine guns, mortars, and recoilless rifles from a fortified complex of deeply embedded tunnels and bunkers that were effectively shielded from counter fire. Upon learning that the 1st Brigade had suffered casualties during an intense firefight with the enemy, then-Maj. Charles S. Kettles volunteered to lead a flight of six UH-1D helicopters to carry reinforcements to the embattled forces and to evacuate wounded personnel. As the flight approached the landing zone, it came under witheringly deadly enemy fire from multiple directions, with reinforcements hit and killed before they could even leave the helicopters.

Jets dropped napalm and bombs on the enemy machine guns on the ridges overlooking the landing zone, with minimal effect. Small arms and automatic weapons fire continued to rake the landing zone, inflicting heavy damage to the helicopters. However, Kettles refused to depart until all reinforcements and supplies were off-loaded and the helicopters were loaded to capacity with wounded personnel. Kettles led the flight out of the battle area and back to the staging area to deliver the casualties and pick up additional reinforcements.Kettles then returned to the battlefield, with full knowledge of the intense enemy fire awaiting his arrival. Bringing reinforcements, he landed in the midst of enemy mortar and automatic weapons fire that seriously wounded his gunner and severely damaged his aircraft. Upon departing, Kettles was advised by another helicopter crew that he had fuel streaming out of his aircraft. Despite the risk posed by the leaking fuel, he nursed the damaged aircraft back to base.

 

Later that day, the infantry battalion commander requested immediate, emergency extraction of the remaining 40 troops, and

four members of Kettles’ unit who were stranded when their helicopter was destroyed by enemy fire. With only one flyable UH-1 helicopter remaining, Kettles volunteered to return to the deadly landing zone for a third time, leading a flight of six evacuation helicopters, five of which were from the 161st Aviation Company. During the extraction, Kettles was informed by the last helicopter that all personnel were aboard, and departed the landing zone accordingly. Army gunships supporting the evacuation also departed the area.

When they were airborne, Kettles learned eight men had been unable to reach the evacuation helicopters due to the intense enemy fire and had been left on the ground.

With one of the rescued Soldiers on board in addition to his crew of four, Kettles immediately turned his unarmed Huey around and headed back to the landing zone to rescue the remaining troops. Without gunship, artillery, or tactical aircraft support, the enemy concentrated all firepower on his lone aircraft, which was immediately damaged by a mortar round that damaged the tail boom, a main rotor blade, shattered both front windshields and the chin bubble and was further raked by small arms and machine gun fire.

 Coming in low over the treetops, he skillfully guided his helicopter onto the ground where the eight Soldiers dove into the helicopter, but there was another problem: it was now about three men, or 600 pounds, too heavy. “I didn’t know if we were going to get out of there,” Kettles remembered, “but I was just going to give it my best try.”

In spite of the severe damage to his helicopter, Kettles repeatedly adjusted the revolutions per minute until the heavily damaged aircraft lurched upward, stayed close to the tree tops and limped home to Duc Pho. Without his courageous actions and superior flying skills, the last group of Soldiers and his crew would never have made it off the battlefield.

For his heroic efforts, Kettles was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross (DSC), the nation’s second highest medal for gallantry.

************************************

Charles S. Kettles was born in Ypsilanti, Mich., Jan. 9, 1930. The son of a World War I Royal Air Force (Canadian) and World War II Air Transport Command (U.S. Army Air Corps) pilot, Kettles had aviation in his blood. While attending the Edison Institute High School in Dearborn, Michigan, Kettles honed his love of flying on the Ford Motor Company Flight Department simulator.

Following high school graduation, Kettles enrolled in Michigan State Normal College (now Eastern Michigan University), where he studied engineering. Two years later, Kettles was drafted into the Army at age 21. Upon completion of basic training he attended Officer Candidate School at Fort Knox, Kentucky, and earned his commission as an armor officer in the U.S. Army Reserve, Feb. 28, 1953. Kettles graduated from the Army Aviation School in 1953, before serving active duty tours in Korea, Japan and Thailand.

Kettles returned in 1956 and established a Ford Dealership in Dewitt, Mich., with his brother, and continued his service with the Army Reserve as a member of the 4th Battalion, 20th Field Artillery.

He answered the call to serve again in 1963, when the United States was engaged in the Vietnam War and needed pilots. Fixed-wing-qualified, Kettles volunteered for Active Duty and attended Helicopter Transition Training at Fort Wolters, Texas in 1964. During a tour in France the following year, Kettles was cross-trained to fly the famed UH-1D “Huey.”

Kettles reported to Fort Benning, Georgia, in 1966 to join a new helicopter unit. He was assigned as a flight commander with the 176th Assault Helicopter Company, 14th Combat Aviation Battalion, and deployed to Vietnam from February through November 1967. His second tour of duty in Vietnam lasted from October 1969 through October 1970.

In 1970, Kettles went to Fort Sam Houston in San Antonio, Texas, where he served as an aviation team chief and readiness coordinator supporting the Army Reserve. He remained in San Antonio until his retirement from the Army in 1978.

Kettles completed his bachelor’s degree at Our Lady of the Lake University, San Antonio, Texas, and earned his master’s degree at Eastern Michigan University, College of Technology, in commercial construction. He went on to develop the Aviation Management Program at the College of Technology and taught both disciplines. He later worked for Chrysler Pentastar Aviation until his retirement in 1993. Kettles currently resides in Ypsilanti, Mich., with his wife Ann.

 Many who were present for or had heard of Kettles remarkable act of heroism wondered why he never received the Medal of Honor instead of the Distinguished Service Cross. Numerous attempts to get his DSC upgraded to a Medal of Honor were made, but all such efforts failed. Eventually, the tenuous efforts paid off, and his DSC was upgraded to a Medal of Honor.

On Monday, July 18, 2016, President Barack Obama awarded retired Army Lt. Col. Charles Kettles the Medal of Honor during a White House Ceremony.

“You couldn’t make this up. It’s like a bad Rambo movie,” Obama said, describing the harrowing exploits of then-Major Kettles on that fateful day, May 15, 1967, in “Chump Valley,” South Vietnam.

As commander of the 176th Aviation Company, Kettles’ mission was to fly in reinforcements and evacuate wounded Soldiers of the 101st Airborne Division, who were outgunned and outnumbered by the North Vietnamese in a rural riverbed near Duc Pho. “They needed support fast,” the President said.

Towering above Chump Valley was a 1,500-foot-high hill where the enemy was entrenched in an extensive series of tunnels and bunkers. It was “the ideal spot for an ambush,” Obama said.

Despite the dangers that they all were aware of, Kettles and his fellow company of Soldiers took off in their Hueys. As they approached the landing zone, they met a “solid wall of enemy tracers coming right at them,” Obama said. “None of them had ever seen fire that intense. Soldiers in the helos were hit and killed before they could even leap off.”

Despite the withering fire, Kettles landed his helicopter and kept it there exposed so the wounded could board.

“Once more, machine-gun bullets and mortar rounds came screaming after them. Rounds pierced the arm and leg of Chuck’s door gunner, Roland Scheck,” Obama said. His Huey was hit. Fuel was pouring out as he flew away. His helicopter was so badly damaged that he couldn’t make it to the field hospital so Kettles found another helicopter and took them to safety, the President said.

By then it was near evening. Back in the riverbed, 44 American Soldiers were still pinned down. “The air was thick with gunpowder, the smell of burning metal,” the President described. “Then they heard a faint sound. As the sun started to set, they saw something rise over the horizon – six American helicopters, one of them said, “as beautiful as could be.'”

For a third time, Chuck and his unit “headed into that hell on earth,” Obama said. “Death or injury was all but certain,” a fellow pilot had said, “and a lesser person would not return,” the President related.

Once again, the enemy unloaded everything they had on Kettles as he landed: small arms, automatic weapons and rocket-propelled grenades, Obama said. Soldiers ran to the helicopters as they had before. When Kettles was told all were accounted for, he took off, the President said.

On the return flight, Kettles received a radio call informing him that eight men had not made it aboard. “They’d been providing cover for the others,” the President said. They “could only watch as the helicopters floated away. “We all figured we were done for,'” one later said. Kettles came to the same conclusion, the commander in chief said, conveying his words: “If we’d left them for 10 minutes, they’d become POWs or dead.”

Kettles couldn’t shake from his mind the idea of leaving the eight behind, so “he broke off from formation, took a steep, sharp descending turn back toward the valley, this time with no aerial or artillery support, a lone helicopter heading back in,” Obama said.

 “Chuck’s Huey was the only target for the enemy to attack. And they did,” he continued. “Tracers lit up the sky once more. Chuck came in so hot his chopper bounced for several hundred feet before coming to a stop,” the President said.

As soon as he landed, a mortar round shattered his windshield. Another hit the main rotor blade. Shrapnel tore through the cockpit and Kettles’ chair. Yet, Obama said, those eight Soldiers sprinted to the Huey through the firestorm.

The President described what happened next: “Chuck’s helo, now badly damaged, was carrying 13 souls and was 600 pounds over the weight limit. He said “it felt like flying a two-and-a-half-ton truck.” He couldn’t hover long enough to take off, but the cool customer that he is, he saw his shattered windshield and thought, ‘that’s pretty good air conditioning.’

“The cabin filled with black smoke as Chuck hopped and skipped the helo across the ground to pick up enough speed to take off, ‘like a jackrabbit bouncing across the riverbed,'” the President said, relating Kettle’s analogy.

The instant he got airborne, another mortar ripped into the tail and the Huey fishtailed violently. A Soldier was tossed from the helicopter, but managed to grab a skid, hanging on as Kettles flew them to safety,” Obama said.

“The Army’s Warrior Ethos is based on a simple principle: A Soldier never leaves his comrades behind,” Obama said. “Chuck Kettles honored that creed. Not with a single act of heroism, but over and over and over and over. And, because of that heroism, 44 American Soldiers made it out that day.”

The most gratifying part of this whole story “is that Dewey’s name and Roland’s name and the names of 42 other Americans he saved are not etched in the solemn granite wall not far from here that memorializes the fallen in the Vietnam War,” the President remarked.

 “A Soldier who was there said, ‘That day, Major Kettles became our John Wayne,'” Mr. Obama said. “With all due respect to John Wayne, he couldn’t do what Chuck Kettles did.”

“To the dozens of American Soldiers that he saved in Vietnam half a century ago, Chuck is the reason they lived and came home and had children and grandchildren. Entire family trees, made possible by the actions of this one man,” the President concluded.

Kettles, 86, was joined at the ceremony by his wife, Anne. They will celebrate their 40th wedding anniversary in March. With them were eight of their 10 children and three grandchildren.

When the ceremony concluded, America’s newest national hero said, “We got the 44 out. None of those names appear on the wall in Washington. There’s nothing more important than that.”

Also attending were some of the Soldiers Kettles served with that day, including Scheck, Dewey Smith, who was among the last eight Soldiers rescued that day, and a number of other Soldiers who fought in that battle. Past Medal of Honor recipients attended as well.

This article was originally published on TogetherWeServed Dispatches – August 2016.  To read more articles or join, visit http://togetherweserved.com/.

Air Force Lt. Col. Donald “Digger” Odell, a fighter pilot from Harrison Township was shot down during the Vietnam War and remained a Prisoner of War for five a half years.

One of my goals was to put together an article featuring nurses in Vietnam.  I’m certain that any soldier who spent time in the hospital there has fond memories of those brave women who took care of them and offered compassion.  During my searches for information, I came across a website called “All about Women in Vietnam” (http://www.illyria.com/vnwomen.html) and found a wealth of information, not only about nurses but of the many other occupations and roles filled by women.

Since this article is about nurses, I’ve taken snippets from their articles to give readers a flavor of what life was like for them during the war.  If you want to read the full articles, some, have working links that will redirect you.

Among the American heroes serving in Vietnam were soldiers whose mission it was not to fight, but instead to comfort and heal. The number of military nurses serving in Vietnam rose steadily after 1966 to a peak of 900 in 1969. They served as flight nurses, in hospitals throughout Vietnam, and on board the hospital ships USS Repose and Sanctuary.

From the wife of a soldier who was wounded:

“I know I speak for the families and loved ones of those who made it home and for the families and loved ones of those who did not make it home: the sacrifices made by you and all of the medical personnel who served in Vietnam may not have been glorified; however, your presence was and continues to be held most dear by those for whom you cared and by their families and loved ones.  Most of all thank you for the care you gave my husband when he was wounded in Vietnam. And, thank you for all you gave to those who needed your care so much, when you were in Vietnam.” 

Cheryl Boswell
Denham Springs, Louisiana

Rhona Marie Knox Prescott, Third Field Hospital, 616th Clearing Company, 85th Evac, ANC

“That tent became our surgery. It was beyond primitive; it was beyond the MASH movie and TV show. It was dirty; it was a non-sterile environment. We didn’t have enough instruments. We didn’t have enough hands. Needless to say we shared things during surgical procedures that were absolutely needed to save lives, but they weren’t sterile. We didn’t have suction, we didn’t have penicillin to irrigate wounds, didn’t have enough blood to transfuse, we just didn’t have… We did have so many casualties right out of the field. They just brought them all in there. The First Cav. put their people in that staging unit hoping that we could fix them and send them back into the war. So, we were [sigh] way above our heads.”

Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep – Diana Dawn Poole

“One of my rules was that nurses were not allowed to cry. The wounded and dying men in our care need our strength, I told them. We couldn’t indulge in the luxury of our own feelings. On the other hand, I was always straight with the soldiers. I would never say, “Oh, you’re going to be just fine,” if they were on their way out. I didn’t lie.” 

The Surgeon’s Little Helpers – Susan O’Neill author of “Don’t Mean Nothing“

“That was when, in many cases, we found the maggots.  The thought is repulsive. The first time I saw maggots in a wound, white and plump and squirming under the stained gauze, I nearly vomited. The doctor who was operating merely said, “‘Ah–the Surgeon’s Little Helpers.'”

In Memory of the Young Bleeder, the Children, The World – Lynda Van Devanter

“It’s the largest trail of blood leading to the table that I have ever seen. I slip on it because my eyes are drawn to the gurney where several people are transferring the soldier to the operating table. I watch in horror as the lower portion of his jaw, teeth exposed, dangles from what is left of his face. “

Keynote Address at the Women’s Memorial – Jean Youngstrom Diebolt, Air Force Nurse

“We were the most inexperienced group of medical personnel ever to serve in war time. And I was scared–not that I’d be wounded or killed–but that I wouldn’t measure up, that I’d panic and freeze when a soldier’s life depended on me.”

‘First Warrior’ shows face of American Indian veterans – Connie Walker-Evans (Nez Perce), Ret. CMDR, USPHS, ANC 1965-1969

“I feel bad that I cannot remember their names, but I cannot forget the severity of their wounds and their young faces. Nor the hopelessness and sadness I felt as so many of their lives slipped away.”

Sapper Attack! – Diane Houser and Margaret Cohee were at “nice, safe Cam Rahn Bay”

“I saw sparks on the floor,” she said, “but they didn’t register. I thought the window had been broken by the concussion of the explosions outside. I didn’t find out until later that four sticks of TNT together with a detonator and a fuse, were lying on the floor . . .”

Welcome Home II –  Kathie Trew Swazuk, 93rd Evac

“And I couldn’t get hold of the surgeon when I needed him, a night when there were all kinds of mass casualties coming in. I felt that I had to do something to stop the bleeding and I literally opened the wound up and clamped off the bleeder myself…. I did what had to be done. We were doing things that we would never do in the States, that would’ve never fallen into the hands of a nurse, and had responsibilities that we never, never encountered…. I have to keep remembering how young I was, right out of nursing school. I was 21 years old.”

American Nurses in Vietnam:  Invisible Veterans – Ellen Graf’s paper for a college course on American War & Society  

“During a nurse’s year long tour of duty, she would be called upon to perform functions beyond what she had learned in nursing school, working on war wounds foreign to peacetime  training, with urgent heavy patient loads.  Various estimates agree that standard nursing schedules were twelve-hour workdays, six days a week.  Shifts would be longer and more intense as specific battles returned casualties from the field, and days off cancelled as patient loads grew heavier. ‘Time took on a different meaning.  One nurse said she felt she was caught up in a craziness she could not control.'”

“Army Nurse Diane M. Lindsay went to Vietnam in April 1969 and was assigned to the 95th Evacuation Hospital where her heroic actions earned her the Soldier’s Medal for heroism. She convinced a confused soldier to hand over a grenade. (He had already pulled the pin.) Lindsay had help from a male officer in physically restraining the “berserk” soldier. Lindsay was the first black nurse to receive the award, and was promoted to Captain.

Inside the Death Factory by Christine L. Kane for the Boston Review – Lynda Van Devanter & an Anonymous Nurse

“One of her come-backs embodies anger and anguish, tough-minded pride and brooding guilt and black, black humor. “When I first came back from Nam people would always ask me if I killed any babies. I was really stunned and hurt, but I finally found an answer that stopped them cold I’d tell them, ‘I never killed a baby that I really liked.”

A Perfect Little Number – Cathie Henderson, 24th Evac, 1967

“When a severely wounded soldier learned that she would be coming back to the states soon, he asked her to call his mom when she got home. Cathie kept her promise and one of the first things she did was call his mother. She was stunned when the mother sobbed hysterically. The mother had received a telegram only days before informing her that her son was mortally wounded.”

Sharon Lane ~In Memoriam, On the Wall at 23W 112

During the early morning hours of June 8, 1969, a Soviet-built 122-mm rocket slammed into ward 4 of the 312th Evacuation Hospital in Chu Lai, Vietnam.  24 year old Lt. Sharon A. Lane died instantly. Pictures of Sharon Lane and an account of her short life and career.  

Vietnam Nurses: These Are the Women Who Went to War

“I’ve never seen so many wounded in my life. It reminded me of that scene in ‘Gone with the Wind’ where all the wounded are lined up for miles around the railroad station,” says Shellabarger.  “And the rumors were so bad – that Saigon had fallen, things like that… Not knowing the truth was the worst.”

KSU RN’s Historical Nursing Website

“For many nurse veterans, their assignment to Vietnam was, in essence, their first “real job.” The average American military nurse on duty in Vietnam was just 23 years old and fresh out of a three-year diploma nursing school.”

Slow hand salute to these brave ladies!

http://www.illyria.com/vnwomen.html.

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I am certain that every one of us is mentioned herein…just not by name.  I’m publishing this short but powerful piece with the permission of the author, Jimmy Fox, 1st Cav ’67-’68.

Trinh Thi Ngo was ‘Hanoi Hannah,’ a propaganda broadcaster who died in Vietnam on Friday, September 30, 2016.

How many of you knew that the youngest American Soldier to be killed during the Vietnam War was only 15 yrs. old?  The minimum age for enlistment was 17 years-old with parental consent.

Pfc. Dan Bullock of the Marine Corps was killed in Quangnam Province — the youngest American serviceman killed in the Vietnam war.  He doctored his birth certificate at age 14 in order to join the Marines.  A year later, he was killed by enemy fire in Vietnam.

At least 5 men killed in Vietnam were 16 years old.
At least 12 men killed in Vietnam were 17 years old.

The oldest to die in the Vietnam War was 62 years-old.

The one life that U.S. Marine Dan Bullock had to give for his country lasted just 15 years, five months and 17 days.  The Brooklyn teen, after using a doctored birth certificate to enlist, became the youngest U.S. casualty of the Vietnam War when he was gunned down on June 7, 1969.

It wasn’t until reporters visited the Marine’s family in Williamsburg that the nation learned the young man had been born on Dec. 21, 1953.Forty-five years later, Bullock’s legacy is largely as a trivia answer in a fight that America would rather forget.His old boot camp buddy Franklin McArthur says it shouldn’t be that way.“He’s the youngest kid killed, and hardly anybody knows his name,” McArthur said from his Florida home. “It bothers me because he’s a historical figure, and everybody should know who he was.“And hardly anybody does.”A picture of Bullock’s boyish face adorns a wall at the city’s Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Lower Manhattan.The slain teen looks forever east — frozen in time beneath his white dress hat, his lips pursed and his eyes fixed straight ahead.

His name adorns a street in his old Brooklyn neighborhood and a Veterans of Foreign Wars post in Honolulu. His grave in North Carolina bears a stone paid for years ago by talk show host Sally Jesse Raphael.

Much of that attention was generated by McArthur, who says he remains haunted by the 15-year-old’s sudden and violent death.

Bullock was just 14 when he appeared with his bogus proof of age at the Albee Square Marine recruiting station in downtown Brooklyn.

He was a bright kid and big for his age — standing about 5-foot-9 and 160 pounds. But the rigors of boot camp at Parris Island, S.C., were too much for the recruit, who was still just 14.

“He had already kind of washed out when he got to my platoon,” McArthur recounted. “He had trouble keeping up.”

McArthur made it his mission to aid the young Marine, at times carrying the exhausted teen through the rigorous training. He made the commitment because he knew what put a rifle in Bullock’s hands.

“Dan joined the Marine Corps to help his family out,” McArthur recalled. “His father was a lumber worker and a sharecropper. He didn’t have any skills to get work in New York.”

The two men said farewell after boot camp. Bullock left behind his dad, his stepmom and his 13-year-old sister, Gloria, and wound up about 8,500 miles from Brooklyn.

The rifleman with the Second Platoon of Company F was at the An Hoa Combat Base in Quang Nam Province when a 1 a.m. firefight began on June 7, 1969.

The heroic teen, realizing his fellow Marines guarding the base perimeter were outgunned, began running back and forth to deliver much-needed ammunition for the better part of an hour.

Bullock’s commander, unaware of the dead Marine’s tender age, provided the details in a June 11 letter to his parents on Lee Ave. in Brooklyn.

“He constantly exposed himself to the enemy fire in order to keep the company supplied with the ammunition needed to hold off the attack,” wrote Capt. R.H. Kingrey.

“As the attack pressed on, Dan again went to get more ammunition when he was mortally wounded by a burst of enemy small arms and died instantly.”

McArthur was stunned to learn about Bullock’s death, and a fellow Marine said something that forever stayed with him.

“The Marine said, ‘Did you ever think that if you didn’t help him, he might have lived?’” McArthur recalled. “I lost my mind.”

The combination of guilt and admiration for Bullock led the leatherneck to keep his underage friend’s memory alive.

“He took the secret of his age to the grave with him,” said McArthur. “And he didn’t have to. He could have gone home anytime if he just told how old he was.”

This story originally published in the NEW YORK DAILY NEWS, Sunday, November 9, 2014, and written by Larry McShane

Question to all:

In 1969, Mr. Bullock found a way to beat the system and gain entry into the military as an underage recruit.  Can something like this still occur today or has the government implemented checks and balances to prevent recurrence in our modern volunteer military? 

---

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There was no more welcomed sound to a wounded soldier 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.

Print by Williams S. Phillips

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.

Print by Joe Kline of 498th Air Ambulance Platoon

Many transport helicopters and crews also landed under heavy fire to rescue or Medivac wounded soldiers.  Unlike Medivac choppers, slicks were armed aircraft and could return fire during the flight, but they weren’t outfitted with medical supplies.  Many of these pilots risked the lives of their crew and flew through an onslaught of fire to rescue wounded soldiers and getting them to hospitals.  Some of these birds were so badly damaged they barely lifted off with survivors – others, not so lucky, crashed into the LZ or en-route to the hospital.  These crews were relentless, trading in their battered birds for new Huey’s then returning to collect more of the wounded.  Several chopper pilots were awarded the MOH for their actions during these type of evacuations, two come to mind:  Bruce Crandall and Ed “Too Tall” Freeman for their actions during the Battle of the Ia Drang Valley.

Brigadier General Edwin H. Simmons Collection – The Face of War– Corporal Larry R. Miklos, center, and an unidentified corpsman look in horror as an enemy machine gun fires at the medevac helicopter in which he is riding.

What’s important to understand is that the Medivac pilots and crews were a special breed.  Their Huey’s were unarmed and were outfitted as a flying ambulance.  Normally, when Medivac left on a mission, two cobra helicopters accompanied the Huey and provided supporting fire in the event of a hot LZ.  On occasion, these pilots refused to wait around for their escorts and left by themselves to rescue wounded soldiers.  Of all the chopper pilots permanently assigned to Medivac duty, only two received the MOH during the Vietnam War.  This is their story:

Michael Novosel

For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity in action at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty.

Fort Rucker Remembrances Retired Chief Warrant Officer Honored Veteran Dies 3 April 2006

CWO Novosel, 82d Medical Detachment, distinguished himself while serving as commander of a medical evacuation helicopter. He unhesitatingly maneuvered his helicopter into a heavily fortified and defended enemy training area where a group of wounded Vietnamese soldiers were pinned down by a large enemy force. Flying without gunship or other cover and exposed to intense machinegun fire, CWO Novosel was able to locate and rescue a wounded soldier. Since all communications with the beleaguered troops had been lost, he repeatedly circled the battle area, flying at low level under continuous heavy fire, to attract the attention of the scattered friendly troops. This display of courage visibly raised their morale, as they recognized this as a signal to assemble for evacuation.

On 6 occasions he and his crew were forced out of the battle area by the intense enemy fire, only to circle and return from another direction to land and extract additional troops. Near the end of the mission, a wounded soldier was spotted close to an enemy bunker. Fully realizing that he would attract a hail of enemy fire, CWO Novosel nevertheless attempted the extraction by hovering the helicopter backward. As the man was pulled on aboard, enemy automatic weapons opened fire at close range, damaged the aircraft and wounded CWO Novosel. He momentarily lost control of the aircraft, but quickly recovered and departed under the withering enemy fire.

Courtesy of Robert Lafoon

In all, 15 extremely hazardous extractions were performed in order to remove wounded personnel. As a direct result of his selfless conduct, the lives of 29 soldiers were saved. The extraordinary heroism displayed by CWO Novosel was an inspiration to his comrades in arms and reflect great credit on him, his unit, and the U.S. Army.

Twenty-six years before receiving the Medal of Honor for his actions in Vietnam, Michael J. Novosel flew his first combat mission as a U.S. Army Air Corps B-29 pilot during World War II.

When the Japanese surrendered aboard the Battle ship Missouri, he also piloted one of nearly 500 B-29s that flew over the ceremony.

After the war, he commanded the 99th Bombardment Squadron until its deactivation in 1947, after which he became a B-29 test pilot at Eglin AFB, Florida.

Novosel left active duty in 1949 and went into the Air Force Reserve.

When hostilities broke out in Vietnam, Lieutenant Colonel Novosel, then a pilot for Southern Airways, wanted to return to combat flying. However, due to an overage of lieutenant colonels, the Air Force was unable to accept him.

Determined to do his part in Southeast Asia, he joined the Army as a Warrant Officer and began flying helicopters. On 2 October 1969, during his second Vietnam tour as a “Dust-Off” pilot, Chief Warrant Officer Novosel was flying for the 82d Medical Detachment near Cambodia’s enemy-dominated “Parrot’s Beak” region when he received word that wounded South Vietnamese soldiers were pinned down near an enemy training area.

CWO Novosel retired from the military in 1984 after 44 years. He was the author of “Dustoff: The Memoir of an Army Aviator,” which detailed his military service.

*****

Major Patrick Henry Brady

Graduated in 1959 with a degree in psychology and was commissioned a Second Lieutenant in the Medical Service Corps.

After an initial assignment to Berlin he attended the Army Intelligence School.   A background check uncovered some un-reported youthful incarcerations and Brady was expelled.

Fortunately a slot for Brady was found in the Army’s basic helicopter school.  Despite nearly washing out, Captain Brady earned his wings in December 1963.

In January 1964 Brady volunteered for Vietnam and was assigned to the 57th Medical Detachment – Helicopter Ambulance, led by Major Charles Kelly.   The unit’s call-sign was “Dust Off,” a cry for help and was the most famous of all Vietnam call-signs.

Major Kelly was in a battle to save Dust Off from ill advised Army leadership who wanted to use Kelly’s helicopters for hauling “ash and trash,” pinning portable red crosses onto helicopters only when needed for patient evacuation.

Courtesy of James Evans – Medevac helicopter in for landing at 91st Evacuation Hospital Emergency Room.

Kelly was outraged and charged his pilots to prove their worth by evacuating patients under conditions never before attempted; at night, in weather and during the battle. Nothing was to come between the crew and the patient.

Kelly became a legend and Brady began to develop survival flying techniques for patient rescue in weather and under fire.

On July 1, 1964, on a rescue mission, Major Kelly came under fire.  Friendlies screamed to get out.  Kelly’s last words, “When I have your wounded,” were uttered as he took a fatal round.

Courtesy of James Evans

Despite efforts to change Dust Off, Kelly’s dying words became the standard and nothing more was heard about portable red crosses. Thanks to Kelly and his men, Dust Off would rescue some one million souls in Vietnam, setting unmatched lifesaving records.

Brady left Vietnam and was assigned to Fort Benning, Georgia where he continued to fly medevacs in the antiquated H-19.  In late summer 1967 Brady trained and outfitted the 54th Medical Detachment for deployment to Vietnam in August.

The 54th was based at Chu Lai. The war had intensified since Brady’s first tour. Dust Off had gone from supporting 16,000 troops to half a million.  Night, weather and terrain were as deadly as the communists.

Brady furthered his flying skills and the 54th became specialists in combat pickups at night, in weather, and under fire, using techniques never before used in combat.

Brady in 1989

On his second tour of duty in Vietnam, 1967 to 68, Brady, now a Major, was second in command of the 54th Medical Detachment. It was during this second tour in Vietnam that Brady was awarded the Medal of Honor.

Courtesy Douglas Pike

Brady flew over 2,000 combat missions and evacuated more than 5000 wounded during his two tours of duty in South Vietnam.  He never lost a crewman or a patient on any helicopter he piloted.

CITATION:

For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity in action at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty, Maj. BRADY distinguished himself while serving in the Republic of Vietnam commanding a UH-1H ambulance helicopter, volunteered to rescue wounded men from a site in enemy held territory which was reported to be heavily defended and to be blanketed by fog. To reach the site he descended through heavy fog and smoke and hovered slowly along a valley trail, turning his ship sideward to blow away the fog with the backwash from his rotor blades. Despite the unchallenged, close-range enemy fire, he found the dangerously small site, where he successfully landed and evacuated 2 badly wounded South Vietnamese soldiers. He was then called to another area completely covered by dense fog where American casualties lay only 50 meters from the enemy. Two aircraft had previously been shot down and others had made unsuccessful attempts to reach this site earlier in the day. With unmatched skill and extraordinary courage, Maj. Brady made 4 flights to this embattled landing zone and successfully rescued all the wounded. On his third mission of the day Maj. Brady once again landed at a site surrounded by the enemy. The friendly ground force, pinned down by enemy fire, had been unable to reach and secure the landing zone. Although his aircraft had been badly damaged and his controls partially shot away during his initial entry into this area, he returned minutes later and rescued the remaining injured. Shortly thereafter, obtaining a replacement aircraft, Maj. Brady was requested to land in an enemy minefield where a platoon of American soldiers was trapped. A mine detonated near his helicopter, wounding 2 crew members and damaging his ship. In spite of this, he managed to fly 6 severely injured patients to medical aid. Throughout that day Maj. Brady utilized 3 helicopters to evacuate a total of 51 seriously wounded men, many of whom would have perished without prompt medical treatment. Maj. Brady’s bravery was in the highest traditions of the military service and reflects great credit upon himself and the U.S. Army.

2012 Dead Men Flying is the story of Charles Kelly, the father of Dust Off, who gave his life to save Dust Off – the greatest life-saver ever. His dying words – When I have your wounded – set the standard for combat medicine to this day.   It is also the story of the author, Medal of Honor recipient General Patrick Brady, who learned from Charles Kelly and struggled to meet his standard. Brady led the 54th Medical Detachment as it rescued over 21,000 wounded – enemy and friendly – in 10 months, while sustaining 26 Purple Hearts. Finally, Dead Men Flying is the story of salvation in the midst of horror, courage in the face of adversity, and the miracle of faith in the heat of combat. A riveting tale from America’s most decorated living soldier, this is a book that no American can afford to ignore.

*****

To read more about Dustoff and see a collection of Medevac pictures – please refer to my previous article on this blog site:  https://cherrieswriter.wordpress.com/2016/02/23/dead-men-flying-heroic-as-hell-the-dustoff-pilots-of-the-vietnam-war-image-heavy/

Information for this article was obtained from the Aviation Hall of Fame, Texas Tech University – The Vietnam Center and Archive, Wikipedia, YouTube and Amazon.com.

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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