John Podlaski's Blog, page 11
November 11, 2023
Veteran’s Day Special Report from WGN-TV
POSTED 9:00 PM, NOVEMBER 11, 2015 on WGN-TV, BY SARAH JINDRA, UPDATED AT 10:10PM, NOVEMBER 11, 2015
Click below to be redirected to the article and videos http://wgntv.com/2015/11/11/chicagos-welcome-home-to-vietnam-veterans/#ooid=VucWhzeDrfCjzWV-5qdj8f6ILvX2wkWqAbout a decade after the Vietnam War ended, cities across the country began hosting “Welcome Home” parades for Vietnam veterans. while fighting in the trenches of Vietnam, many young Americans saw things they didn’t want to see and did things they didn’t want to do.
The song “We Gotta Get Out of This Place,” by The Animals became their anthem. And they lived for the moment they got to get back on the plane and leave Vietnam.
“Oh my God, we survived. And when the plane took off, we all cheered. It was a big, big thing,” recalls Vietnam veteran, John Podlaski.
Podlaski is one of the lucky soldiers who made it out. He was finally able to take a deep breath and return to the country he served.
But he returned to protests and flag burning, aimed not just at the government for its involvement in the war, but at him too.
“It was a heck of an experience or account,” says Podlaski, “to see the tomatoes coming at you, raising their fists and they’re hollering at you. Everybody was kind of embarrassed. I don’t want to go out and show myself. To become a Vietnam vet, from that point on, it was kind of a secret. You kind of just took it in the closet and left it. You didn’t want anyone to know.”
Radio personality, Bob Leonard felt the same way when he came back from Vietnam.
“When I came home, people started spitting at me and calling me a baby killer,” says Leonard. “By about the 4th or 5th person who said baby killer and spit at me, I had had enough.”
Leonard grew out his hair and moved to Puerto Rico. For the next 16 years, he denied serving in Vietnam, even after moving back to the U.S. But that all changed in Chicago on June 13, 1986.
On that day, Leonard agreed to help host a “Welcome Home” parade for Vietnam veterans. Parade organizers in Chicago found out he was a Vietnam veteran and asked him to help host. He agreed and says that day changed his life.
“Everything changed,” says Leonard. “My whole mindset changed. From that point on, it was OK to be a veteran.”
While some veterans felt the parade was too little too late, 125,000 thought it was just what they needed to finally be thanked and to feel welcome home.
As Leonard hosted, Podlaski marched in the parade. He later wrote a book about his experience in Vietnam to help others understand what they went through. Watching the parade broadcast today is still emotional.
“A lot of people didn’t go,” says Podlaski. “It was 15 years too late. ‘Don’t welcome me home today, because I don’t wanna hear it.’ But for me, I was thrilled to death.”
During the parade broadcast, President Reagan made a statement to those watching, acknowledging the long overdue welcome home. “Clearly the welcome home received by many of our brave men and women who served in Vietnam was less than they deserved. And that’s putting it mildly. Today, however, Americans are making up for that.”
The scars of war, emotional and physical, were on display that day. As was the stark reminder, that some Veterans never even got to choose whether to attend a parade.
For more information on “Cherries,” by John Podlaski: https://cherrieswriter.wordpress.com/
And this is a link to our commercial-free hour-long documentary that aired on most Tribune stations beginning last weekend: http://salutingourvietnamveterans.com/
IF YOU ARE INTERESTED IN VIEWING THE PARADE, SEGMENTS ARE AVAILABLE ON YOUTUBE. HERE’S THE DIRECT LINKS:
PART 1: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KlOlHExChT8
PART 2: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9z5QMWVBHLs
PART 3: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uWRUJ0PeZ-w
PART 4: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9OpKzFJqRgU
PART 5: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u8mEG3Ffp7M
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November 5, 2023
240th Assault Helicopter Company (Greyhounds) Reunion Opening Address
By Richard Toops, Greyhound 16
My friend, Richard Toops, sent me his opening speech from their last reunion. I thought it was great and have to share it with you all!
Well, for those of you who don’t know me…I am Richard Toops, Greyhound 16, and I think by now most of you know my wife, Trenda. We met on a blind date through my secretary when I worked for the Department of Commerce, and the last 47 years have been our happily ever after. We both have been looking forward to this Reunion and being with you all for a long time.
We will be having our Tribute for our 38 brothers on the last night of our Reunion. But tonight, I want to reminisce and have a Tribute of sorts to you brothers who are here tonight. John Podlaski, the man who wrote the Best Selling book “Cherries” said, “Helicopter crews were held in the highest regard and seen as “saviors” by us infantry soldiers…….at times, watching in awe and disbelief while pilots and crew braved enemy onslaughts to transport, rescue, supply, and protect those on the ground. Helicopter Crews were always there when needed – losing many of their own while performing in this role.”
Today I want to talk about our 240TH Assault Helicopter Company and these 3 words…… Brave …..Courageous….and Daring….. that exemplify great attributes. Miriam Webster Dictionary defines the word Brave as, “showing mental strength to face danger.” Courageous, “as firmness of mind and will.” And Daring, willing to seek out risks, bold, fearless, adventuresome”. We were BRAVE……. We were COURAGEOUS…… We were DARING……. Yes, guys, we are a lot of superlatives………the guys in this room all had someone shooting at them, and still did their job, look around your relatives and friends.
We were shot at, shot up, or shot down. In WWII the average battle time for a soldier was 14 days…..14 days believe it or not……Well, In Vietnam it was every single day…(365 days) ..26 times more risk….Every single day LIFE was hanging in the balance. But with all that, we were not concerned about ourselves, we were concerned about our crews, our brothers and our passengers. When one of our own was killed or wounded it broke our very being to the core. We cried, yelled, screamed, cursed, and then got drunk…..All we wanted to do was to try and forget for a while then get back out there and avenge our brothers.
We saw death more times than we care to remember. We saw death on both sides……… we experienced the enemy shooting at us, and by the grace of God did not get killed ourselves…. Some in this room crash landed in the jungle and waited to be rescued for what seemed like forever, while the bad guys continued trying to kill us. We had Engine failures, tail rotor failures, We had high freeks and low freeks, helicopter fires, hydraulic failures, and had to make running landings…………… We saw our buddies wounded, and heard them……screaming in agonizing pain, and saw them die in front of us. Death was with us every day.
Remember what it was like to fly ammo to a surrounded unit of the 25th Division and then hover above the trees, dumping the ammo boxes below as quickly as we could while we hunkered behind our chicken plates, or slide armor plates, trying to dodge bullets?
How about life and death choices we had to make, like flying a couple of Special Forces at the end of a ladder several miles in War Zone D because they were being shot at and there was no time to let them climb up the ladders into the helicopter.
At times we tried to fly with a NOGO WARNING. For those of you here that don’t know what NOGO is..NOGO means NOGO. (that’s a gauge on our instrument panel that said don’t go, your load is too heavy and crashing will be imminent). I remember one time we had 20 South Vietnamese troops aboard and we were trying to get them out of the bush at NHE BHE before the tides came in. Our NOGO was on. There was a single tree right in our path as we desperately tried to get enough lift to get up and over. We did… just grazing the top of the trees.
These are all true stories…and there are so many more I could talk about. Death, wounds, and more. Mentally and physically are just words now, but back then, they described our normal daily life in Vietnam. We were all so much younger then and could cope with it……. We made everyone think it anyway…. And I will say, when not flying, most of us did have fun. When we were not flying, we were a bunch of fun-loving guys, enjoying what we did. We Played cards till midnight, poker, hearts, and spades. We Told a lot of stories of our stateside adventures before Nam. (some true, some I questioned.) We drank a lot of Pabst Blue Ribbon, probably too much. But it made things we faced and dealt with, easier.
How many of you, after having a few drinks because you were not flying the next day, were woken up at 5 a.m. the next day and told you were flying? Headache City…I remember one time being the OD, “Officer of the Day”, and waking someone up in the morning to go fly only to get a 38 pointed at my face? In time we all knew who the guys were to be careful around. Then in the evening one of our guys would get his guitar out and we would sing late into the night. Bill Seaborn was the guitar playing/singer during our time. We were…….. a fun bunch. I would like to think I am still that young man in Vietnam but now I know as of three months ago, I am not…..I want to be that guy again, but I am not him…
We live on Cedar Creek Lake in Texas and this summer I was standing out on our dock at our house, and decided I would jump off the dock and into the water as my daughter and granddaughter had been doing for the 10th time this particular day. As I stood on our dock, I looked into the water, (which was only a foot or two below where I stood). The water was calm, and it looked refreshing, I started to jump, but suddenly I froze with the fear of jumping. My heart was beating fast and I was close to an anxiety attack……Simply put….I was scared of jumping into the water……..WHY?….WHY was I feeling this way? that which I had done all my life and most of the 30 years we had lived on the lake. Life and its fragile strings had caught up to me…… I was no longer a young Greyhound pup in Vietnam, but an old Greyhound ……dog… I was afraid,….. fearful…….I was embarrassed to even feel this way. I eventually told myself, afraid or not, I would jump, and jump I did. As I flew through the air I felt sick inside, I was still afraid. I hit the water and told myself I had made my last jump. I could not rid myself of the fear. Even in the days I spent in Vietnam except twice, I was never so fearful…Sometimes because we are Vietnam vets, people look at us and think we are big brave guys who are not afraid of anything. Well,….. I am not that…To be perfectly honest, I am just an old guy who is afraid to jump in the water. What had happened?….What happened to me? Fear…We all dealt with it in Vietnam, but we were younger then.
What is fear?….. It’s just being scared of something, which we younger Greyhounds realized and dealt with. Just like in Vietnam. Each of you out there handled fear over and over again. We were only concerned about our mission, but eventually fear grabbed us when we did not expect it. The rest of the time we were not concerned about fear, we had a job to do and that consumed our thoughts and our actions. We just went out every day doing our job.
Back to my original statement. Were we Brave, Courageous, and Daring? Heck yes, we were. Did we flaunt our superpowers to all, you bet! After all, we were the masters of the sky. We know among ourselves that we were all these things, whether anyone else accepted it or not…We were Brave, we were Courageous and we were Daring. ….. And best of all, we are still…….that bunch of fun-loving guys, but we have changed…..we are older now. We are no longer as indestructible as we once thought, now to keep us going, we need rest, we need pills, Dr visits, and hospital stays. …..we walk a bit slower, well maybe a lot slower…We are grumpy, ask our wives……We get tired, have aches and pains, and sometimes we don’t want to do anything. But guys, I know we are still who we were……. In our hearts and minds, we are still those Brave, Courageous, and Daring Soldiers of yesteryear.
I look out….I don’t see a bunch of old guys, I see Door Gunners, Crew Chiefs, and Pilots. One, our Door gunner, Buster Barker, (standup Buster) along with God saved my life. Buster, although severely wounded himself, under hostile fire, pulled Bill Seaborn and me out of a shot-down Huey in a Vietcong Basecamp before our Huey was hit again with 2 RPG rounds as it lay on the jungle floor……
This is what 240th door gunners do, they protect us, our Huey, and everyone else in it. Please stand up all you door gunners out there. (Clap).
When I looked out there, I do not see a bunch of old guys, I see our Crew Chiefs…….and folks these back seat guys breathed the life in our Hueys, every single day and at times, late into the night….they were getting our ships ready to fly. Will Rogers said he never met a man he didn’t like, well we pilots never met a crew chief we didn’t like. If we were flying it was because of the Crew Chief. During the missions, they flew with us and manned an M-60 Machine gun. When we were shot down, Jimmy Lance, our Crew Chief, (who is not here tonight) while severely injured…., and under hostile fire, crawled back in our Huey and shut it down to prevent a fire. and then helped Buster in getting Bill and me out of the Huey. (Stand up Crew Chiefs). (Clap)
When I look out there I don’t see a bunch of old guys, I see our pilots, ….The best America ever had..All flying for the mission, no matter what came their way; hot LZ, cold LZ, taking fire or not, it did not matter, mission first. Always going to finish the job. NO, was never an option. Our Aircraft Commander that day when we were shot down, Bill Seaborn, was my friend, he asked me to do something I had not done in months, wear my Chicken Plate on my chest, not under me as I had done for almost 6 months, I did not have to wear it but he was my friend and I listened, I feel like doing what Bill asked me to do that day also saved my life………… I am proud to be one of the pilots in this room.….Stand up guys….(Clap)…
The 240th Greyhounds…….We could go into a Pickup Zone or Landing Zone, not knowing what was there but ready to do our jobs. That’s brave. We could take fire From the Viet Cong or North Vietnamese Soldiers and shoot back with adrenaline flowing, that’s courageous. We could go into the firestorm of bullets and attempt to rescue our fellow soldiers, now that was absolutely daring.
We were everything that can be said about helicopter crews and more. Did we ask for it? Yes, we all volunteered for it. Did we expect any praise, no….we wanted it though if just for us…so we could feel needed…. feel like somebody special… But most of all we wanted it from our fellow crew members, and we got it tenfold. We channeled each and every move we made for us and our guys, our unit…..our brothers……in Vietnam we knew we only needed each other to survive…. All of us have a special bond.
No one will ever understand, except us. Not the world, not the civilians of the world. This is why these reunions are so important to us. Be proud of what you did guys, we were all these things. Everyone of You out there…..we were all Brave, Courageous and Daring…….you Know….. It’s great to be humble…. but all you relatives out there, these guys were heroes…the real deal….and always will be.
Guys, we can go back to eating humble pie when we leave Branson……but today, and during this reunion, we will relish who we were……. What we did……. Who we helped…….and who we saved. We were Brave, Courageous, and Daring………Flying through the skies of hell and back, all this from a base in Vietnam called Bearcat.
Be proud,……..you were the backbone and workhorse of the Vietnam War. Now…….going Back to my fearful water jump. I had fear as I looked in that water, I still do…but I am old now….but,…..I am so glad that when I look back on Vietnam I can be happy in knowing I could harness that fear like all of you did and do those Brave, Courageous, and Daring things that made us Greyhounds and MadDogs, and Kennel Keepers.
In wrapping up…. Friends……and Relatives out there, When these guys step on some dock and don’t jump in the water, just remember the days when they did even more dangerous things and didn’t bat an eye. When one of our guys was wounded which totaled several hundred guys during our 240th existence, we got mad and our hearts were wounded…… When one of our 38 who were killed, POW or MIA, ……… a part of us was lost forever on the battlefield, …..never to return.
Through it all we grieved, cried, cursed……in the end, they were still gone. We picked ourselves up and continued on, doing what we loved doing. Flying….yes but most of all still being Brave, ….Courageous ….and Daring …..in a helicopter called Huey.
Be proud of being a Greyhound, Maddog, and Kennel Keeper. We were………. and always will be the best to have ever flown……no questions about it….You, my fellow brothers, have earned it, and you deserve it.
F I N A L E… To my forever brothers in arms, the 240th Assault Helicopter Company…I salute you…….GO GREYHOUNDS!!! And leave the Flying to us…….
Richard Toops contributed an earlier article to this website recalling one of his missions when his ship was shot down. Click on the link below to be redirected. Use the back arrow key to return to this page.
https://cherrieswriter.com/2020/04/26/the-incident/
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Thank you for taking the time to read this. Should you have a question or comment about this article, then scroll down to the comment section below to leave your response.
If you want to learn more about the Vietnam War and its Warriors, then subscribe to this blog and get notified by email or your feed reader every time a new story, picture, video and changes occur on this website – the button is located at the top right of this page.
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October 28, 2023
Hamburger Hill – The Last Patrol
My friend, Jonas Thorsell, re-discovered the battlefields of Hamburger Hill with some Rakkasan warriors who fought there 54 years ago. Join them on their quest to reach the summit.
As I sit down and write this, it is almost exactly 11 years since my first visit to Hamburger Hill in the A Shau Valley in the western mountainous area of Vietnam.
I was on a motorbike trip with a friend, driving around the northern parts of what once was the I Corps area. We had come down the valley from a visit to Khe Sanh and got ourselves a hotel room in the small town of A Luoi. As I knew there was a requirement for a permit from the police to visit Hamburger Hill, I asked the hotel manager if she could make some phone calls and help us arrange for a permit. She said it was probably too difficult as they normally need a few days to do that. Nothing is impossible in Vietnam though and she managed to get it done. We paid the fee and arranged a time with the guide that was going to take us there.
Morning arrived and we made an early departure from the hotel with our guide. Driving west across the valley, it was very foggy and rainy, and we were already starting to get cold. After having delivered our papers to the police office in the little village near the mountain, we started the ascent with our trusty motorbikes. As we reached the end of the small road, we parked our bikes and started the long walk up the mountain. Even for reasonably fit forty-something guys, it is a grueling climb. As you get up the mountain, they have erected a monument with inscriptions containing a propaganda message, there is also a small shrine at which you can light some incense and pray for the lost souls.
Many tour guides will stop here and tell their guests this is the summit of Hamburger Hill. It isn’t. It isn’t even Hill 937, this is the area around Hill 900 where another Airborne unit fought during the battle and struggled against a well-dug-in enemy. Hill 937 is another 500 or 600 meters north along a trail. Getting to Hill 937 isn’t very difficult from here. It’s a ten-minute hike and as you reach the 937 the jungle is gone and the area is covered with tall grass, often called Elephant Grass. There is a sign declaring that this is the A’ Bia airport, I have never really understood why they call it an airport, maybe because US forces would
land choppers there after the battle and the hill was manned with fresh troops over the next few weeks.
The Battle
The battle of Hamburger Hill was fought from May 10th until May 20th in 1969. The operation included that Airborne units were to land north and south of the Doi A Bia, or Hill 937, and patrol the area in search for NVA units that they were supposed to drive back across the border to Laos. In fact, the first unit that landed on a ridge north of Hill 937 started to patrol west towards Laos to set up a position near the border river. This was Alpha Company 3/187th of the 101st Airborne Division, led by Captain Harkins. Only later in the day did Lt. Col. Honeycutt start to send units along the ridges south towards Hill 937.
As The Rakkasans advanced along the ridges, they started to meet heavy resistance, so the battle had started and it would be another ten days before they had taken the summit. Even in the following days after that, people continued to be killed as NVA had snipers on and around the mountain that would harass the Airborne forces.
A Journey in History
In 2015 I encountered Frank Boccia in a Vietnam War history group online. Frank had been the Platoon Leader of 1st Platoon, Bravo Company in the 3/187th during the battle and had written a book about his experiences during the war and particularly the battle. The book is called “The Crouching Beast: A United States Army Lieutenant’s Account of the Battle for Hamburger Hill, May 1969”. As Frank found out that I had visited the hill, we started to exchange photos and information. Frank had also traveled back to the hill in 2006 as he was in an episode of “War Stories” with Oliver North. Frank shared with me his notes about locations on the hill and the work he had done with Dan Bresnahan, who was a Platoon Leader in Alpha Company during the battle, to correct the After-Action report that is alarmingly fraught with errors.
We became online friends and decided to arrange to meet up in the coming years to discuss the history of the battle and the real locations further. Unfortunately, before we got the chance to meet, Frank passed away in June 2016. I was of course saddened and stayed in touch with his widow.
My history work in Vietnam continued, I did work with and for a friend in a 1st Cavalry Division unit who had fought in I Corps during the Tet offensive in 1968. I kept visiting and documenting war sites in combination with making the history of those places known on my website https://namwartravel.com/
2019 Return to Hamburger Hill
In 2018 I was contacted by Mike Smith, a decorated veteran of the battle and a board member of The National Rakkasan Association. He told me they were preparing for the upcoming 50th Anniversary the following year and that they also planned to bring a group with veterans and active soldiers to the hill after the reunion in May. Mike had heard that I had visited the hill and thought I could have some input.
As I had the information from Frank Boccia on the actual locations of the battle and I also had a trip back to Vietnam planned in February 2019, I quickly decided to re-arrange my travel plans so I could include a visit to the hill. Mike and I kept our discussion going and an idea about making a video about the battle began to grow. With a combination of modern-day video footage from the battlefield, wartime pictures, and recorded audio of Cpt. Harkins and Dennis Helms sharing their stories from the battle, the video was highly appreciated by many veterans and family members.
Video Link Return to Hamburger Hill:
https://youtu.be/5jy8MByDBwA?si=xmXRwzBCVSNrCCAw
This was the first time I ventured beyond the summit of the hill. We located the northern and western approaches to the summit hidden in the jungle and went down both. From what at the end of the battle was a moon landscape, the jungle had now re-taken it and was thick and lush. We could follow trails that the locals use, and I managed to pinpoint a few locations of interest.
After the February journey, I handed over my information to Mike and they made their final preparations for their return. For the veterans, it was their first visit back to the place where they had fought 50 years ago. For the active soldiers, it was a journey into a history they had only heard and read about.
Arriving at the hill, the large group started to make the ascent. Some of the veterans needed assistance from the younger soldiers, but in the end, all got up to the monument and a smaller group ventured all the way over to the summit. Once again, The Rakkasans conquered the summit of Hill 937.
The 2022 Hamburger Hill Reunion
In 2022 I was invited to attend the Hamburger Hill reunion in Clarksville TN. and Fort Campbell KY. It was of course an amazing experience to meet all these men I knew via social media and many of them I had only read about so I only knew them by name through Boccia’s book and other sources. What I witnessed was a group of men sharing the experience of serving in Vietnam more than 50 years ago and taking part in one of the most famous battles of the last century. There were tears and laughter and the bond between these men was very strong. I was fortunate to get the chance to sit down with a few of them to record video interviews. The week of the reunion has a full schedule, but there is enough space in it for people to hang out together and talk about old memories.
Between the planned ceremonies, a day at the shooting range, briefing sessions, and dinners in the evenings, it was a week that I will never forget. It also became clear to me that this group of men is held in very high regard at Fort Campbell and within the 101st Airborne Division.
The Last Patrol
A couple of months later, as I was still digesting the experience of attending the reunion, Mike contacted me about going back to the hill together. We had talked about it before, but I wasn’t sure if we could make it happen. As it turned out, John Snyder from 1st Platoon Bravo Company had decided he wanted to join us as well. So after having detailed our plans, I also asked my friends and colleagues in the namwartravel team, Stephen Berlinguette and Ciarán McCann if they would like to join. Both immediately agreed and started to clear their schedules for that week in February. Now we were a team of five.
We made plans to stay overnight in A Luoi in the A Shau Valley about 40 miles west of the city of Hue near the Laotian border. After an early morning check out from the hotel in Hue, we boarded the rented van that would take us up to the valley. On the way, we stopped at the site of LZ Blaze from where the Rakkasans had lifted off on their combat assault to Hill 937 that morning almost 54 years ago. After the stop we continued to the hill, stopping on the way to drop off our papers at the police office and picking up two additional local guides from the village. I had asked our regular guide Mr Vu to arrange for two more guys from the village that could help carry our load and hopefully also provide some local knowledge of the hill. And they sure did. They knew every inch of the hill, having spent their lives going up and down Hill 937 and the surrounding hills.
It took us a good hour or so to get up to the monument. We stopped there for a quick snack before we continued towards the summit. On the summit, they had cut down the elephant grass which made it quite easy to navigate and move around. We stopped by the sign, took some pictures and Mike and John shared some stories with us.
We had chosen to move down the ridgeline where both Mike and John had fought during the battle. John with Bravo Company had fought here the first six days of the battle before they were pulled back to the Battalion CP and Mike’s Delta Company came in to take over their positions.
It is a very steep descent from the summit on the northern side. At some points you slide down the steepest bits, hoping you won’t fall over and tumble all the way down. A couple of hundred meters down from the summit, we were in the area that Boccia calls The Clearing in his book. This is where Bravo Company got stopped during every assault the first days. The NVA had a .51 caliber machine gun trained directly on the entry point to that section and there was nowhere to get around it considering the steep slopes on either side of the ridge. They had to face the brutal and deadly fire from the enemy as they tried to flank the enemy bunkers, only to be pushed back by heavy machine gun and RPG fire. Unfortunately, they also fell victim to friendly fire from both the jets dropping bombs and Huey gunships shooting ARA.
On the 18th, the ninth day of the battle, Mike in the 2nd Platoon Delta Company reinforced by a small unit from the battered Charlie Company was pushing up this section, at the time, the jungle was gone. Trees stumps, logs, rocks, and craters were the main features. And mud. As the battle raged, the rain came in heavy, turning the steep slope into a muddy hell. The Airborne soldiers crawled up as they advanced towards the NVA soldiers shooting down on them. Delta took heavy casualties, including having their Company Commander seriously wounded. One of the Charlie Company Platoon leaders was left for dead, but he managed to crawl back down to safety.
It would take two more days of intense fighting before The Rakkasans could finally take the hill.
Walking down this area with two of the men who had fought, and lost friends here was a very powerful experience. None of us non-veterans really knew how to relate to this, so we all tried to focus on the terrain and moving forward. I tried to guide Mike and John to the best of my knowledge on the specific terrain features that they would know so they could match it against their memories of the battle.
We spent several hours on the mountain that day and got as far down as the area where they had their Company CP set up. Navigating in the thick jungle isn’t always the easiest thing to do, but with some solid navigating, we knew we were in the right place. There were even some marks of the old foxholes that the soldiers had dug in the area. Around the area, we also found a poncho and some rubber holders for radio batteries.
Realizing we would run out of daylight; we started the climb back up the steep hill. After several hours on the mountain, we could all feel the strain, so we made sure to move slowly but steadily.
As we were leaving the battle area, Mr Vu asked Mike; is this the last patrol? Mike replied it probably was. I found it fitting so I have decided to name the video series I am working on, Hamburger Hill – The Last Patrol. Below is the first part where I sit down with men from 1st Platoon, Bravo Company, including John Snyder who was with us on Hamburger Hill this time.
Video Link The Last Patrol:
https://youtu.be/_yQ1PF7lX48?si=c0hEHR1nYUKTxg8h
Traveling there with these legendary warriors was a humbling experience. I learned so much from Mike and John as we explored the area. Not only about the events and locations as such but also the impact the battle had on these men and their brothers. Mike told me afterward he had found some closure.
I hope you have enjoyed reading the article together with watching the images and the videos. My aim is to help veterans tell their stories and I hope people will learn more about the war and what these men went through. This amazing journey was probably a once-in-a-lifetime experience. But my project doesn’t end here. I already have my next visit to the hill planned and there is much more to explore there. Among other things, I want to reach all the way back to the Battalion CP and the original LZ area. I will continue to collect material about the Hamburger Hill battle and other events during the war and hopefully help more people understand better what these brave men went through.
If you want to learn more about our work, then check out the https://namwartravel.com/ website. Feel free to contact me at namwartravel@gmail.com. I am happy to answer questions and share my material. I would also like to convey my deepest gratitude to John Podlaski for letting me write this little piece for his excellent website.
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October 21, 2023
Time Does Not Dim the Camaraderie We Shared. Don’t Dwell on the Bad Stuff
By JERRY LYONS
As a combat infantryman, this soldier experienced his share of boredom, terror, stress, waste, bullshit, and confusion. He observed the different ways people handled each of these, and he came up with a plan. It came down to this: Stay alert. Do things right. Have faith. And don’t dwell on the bad stuff. Read how this worked out for him.
In early 1968 I left school, married, got drafted, and entered the Army. A job as a clerk interested me, but after flunking the typing test during basic training (nice try, but eight words a minute?) I ended up in Infantry Advanced Individual Training at Fort Lewis, Washington.
The weather and terrain of Washington state are similar to Germany and Korea, and having trained in the cold mountains, it only made sense that my next duty station would be somewhere with snow. Growing up in Florida, I was looking forward to learning more about snow.
Jerry Lyons still often thinks of his time in Vietnam, more than five decades later. Photo courtesy of the author.
I got my orders and green underwear on the last day of Advanced Individual Training and headed to Vietnam as a replacement. The orders were as permanent as the underwear was temporary. I was destined to carry a real gun with real bullets in a hot place. To be in a line infantry unit during a real war. To learn to survive my year as a grunt, ground-pounder, 11-bravo, 11-bush, 11-ant bite, 11-jungle rot soldier. I had no idea at the time that I would someday be inclined to insert the word “proud” before each of these terms of endearment.
A 19- or 20-year-old grows up quickly in a war. As a combat infantryman, I experienced my share of boredom, terror, stress, waste, bullshit, and confusion. I observed the different ways people handled each of these, and I came up with a plan. It came down to this: Stay alert. Do things right. Have faith. And don’t dwell on the bad stuff.
I was assigned to the 199th Light Infantry Brigade (3rd Platoon, Alpha Company, 3/7th Infantry), which had excellent leadership most of the time. That applies to the company officers and noncommissioned officers and, just as importantly, the seasoned veterans of the platoon. I tried to understand the ways of these strange dudes. Before long, I became one of them.
We operated in the Mekong Delta area during most of my tour. One of the major contributors to our unit’s casualties was the Viet Cong booby trap—the improvised explosive device of that war. An unsuspecting GI on patrol often snagged a tripwire attached to a grenade (ours or theirs), claymore mine, or artillery round. Our grenades had a 15-meter “kill radius,” so you can imagine the damage it could do.
“Spread out! One round will get you all!” was the theme of the day.
The bigger the explosive, the more serious the casualties. I once saw the X-ray of one GI who got hit with a homemade Viet Cong booby trap. I had worked at a lumber yard the year before and recognized the sixpenny common nails in his back. He and I later joked about it.
Jerry Lyons left school in 1968 and was soon drafted into the Army and sent to Vietnam. He made a plan: Stay alert. Do things right. Have faith. And don’t dwell on the bad stuff. Photo courtesy of the author.
We did not joke about more serious injuries, of which there were far too many.
It was frustrating, to say the least, that the enemy soldiers responsible were usually nowhere to be found when the damage was done. Sometimes they used command-detonated mines, targeted at vehicles or groups that did not heed the advice to spread out.
Eventually, I volunteered as my squad’s point man to have more control over our operations’ pace of movement. It was a bonus that I could also give up that heavy ammo can—everyone but the point man and the medic carried an ammo can for the squad’s M-60 machine gun. Two selfish reasons, I confess.
I grew somewhat competent in my new role, but not without some close calls. On Christmas Day 1968, I stepped on a grenade placed in the mud for an unsuspecting American GI. The pin was pulled; the handle should have flown off and set the fuse when I kicked it. But the mud had dried, and the handle didn’t move.
Thank God for dry weather.
Jerry Lyons, right, on patrol in a village in Vietnam. Photo courtesy of the author.
I got to watch and learn from the best point man around—Tyrus Becker. Before he went home, Becker instructed at—and possibly started—the Brigade Booby Trap School. He was that good.
During a company-sized operation in a pineapple grove southwest of Saigon one morning, Becker spotted a trip wire caught on my flak jacket zipper. I hadn’t noticed the thin monofilament fishing line until he told me to freeze. Had he not seen it, the booby-trapped artillery round at the other end would have harmed more than just me. I learned to see these things as he did. My survival depended on it.
As I eventually got “short”—near the end of my tour—the Army gave me one of those good jobs, much better than what I’d grown accustomed to in the Third Platoon. As a forward resupply sergeant, I kept troops supplied with C rations, ammo, water, and mail. I officially made the rank of buck sergeant just before I left Vietnam.
Jerry Lyons reunites with his wife, Janet, at the airport after a year in Vietnam. Photo courtesy of the author.
As a newly minted E-5, I could take my wife to my next duty station at Uncle Sam’s expense. I spent the final six months of my two-year active duty commitment playing war games at Fort Riley. During that time, the Army repaired my right knee, a preexisting, football-connected injury aggravated by rice paddy mud-humpin’. That 1970 repair lasted about 50 years. Who said you can’t trust Army doctors? Lucked out again!
After my military service ended, I proceeded to get on with my life. Of course, I had no idea how the events in Vietnam would shape my life years later. With the help of post-war scholarly focus—and the GI Bill—college seemed more important the second time around. I graduated and began an enjoyable career that is just now winding down. I’m still married to the same faithful wife. We have three grown sons and three wonderful grandchildren.
Jerry Lyons at his granddaughter’s wedding. Photo courtesy of the author.
Then there’s the Army. I guess I’d like to say, “It’s what I did, not who I am.” I read that quote years ago on another grunt’s website. As good as it sounds, I don’t think it applies to me. Fifty-three years later, “Vietnam veteran” is a big part of who I am.
A few days pass when my mind doesn’t return to something I learned during that year in the sun, mud, and rain. Not necessarily the bad stuff, because, as I said, I try not to dwell on that. But the people, places, and experiences of that year still linger in my thoughts, and probably always will.
I still try to keep a positive outlook. A realistic view, but with a focus on the good stuff. I’m not always successful, but I don’t stay off track for too long. If that technique can work in a war zone, it has a chance to work with many everyday problems—work, marriage, children, and family.
The internet made it possible to reconnect with some of the people I shared that year within the boonies, jungles, and firebase bunkers. Our Always Alpha group has reunions all over the country. Back in Vietnam, I never imagined we’d have the opportunity, or I would be interested more than five decades later. Yet I look forward to everyone.
Time has not dimmed the camaraderie we shared. The stories flow like water—or should I say beer? I’m reminded of many things I had forgotten. Some are good. Some are bad. But I count my blessings. I don’t dwell on the bad stuff.
Jerry LyonsJerry Lyons spent two years in the Army, including a year in Vietnam as an infantry soldier. After completing his service, he finished college, got a job as a salesman, and spent more than four decades in industrial sales. He still gets a kick out of helping his customers solve production and maintenance problems with innovative equipment and systems and lessons he’s learned over the years. He and his wife Janet have been married for more than 50 years and have three sons and three grandchildren.
This story originally appeared on the Warhorse website on June 21, 2023. Here is the direct link: https://thewarhorse.org/vietnam-veteran-reflects-on-years-of-service-camaraderie/
*****
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October 14, 2023
I Took Grandma to Nam”
This post was included in a comment by Lee Dixon on an earlier article citing the best Vietnam War Websites. Lee is from the Facebook group “Vietnam Veterans”. This article was recommended as the best about the Vietnam War and was used many times to explain how hard it was for those families who stayed behind. Enjoy!
By George “Sonny” Hoffman
My grandmother Rowe is one hell of a gal. No one has loved me one-tenth of what she has. I was smothered by love and grew up not appreciating what I had. It’s true what they say, “What comes easy or free is little valued.” I have not even begun to pay the interest on this debt of love. I could write off this debt and let it go at that. I could take advantage of this bounty of love. I could, were it not for one thing. You see, I took Grandma to Nam.
First, let me tell you about my Grandmother Rowe. She is a first-generation American whose parents emigrated from Germany. She had one child, a girl she named Betty. She pampered her only child. When Betty married my father, Mabel Rowe had a terrible time letting go. To hear my father tell it, is to learn about true mother-in-law hell. Even Mom had to eventually push her away to save the marriage. Shortly after that, a little boy was born. Do I really need to tell you who that kid was?
Well, you get the picture. All the love she had fell on me. I quickly became her whole reason for living, her world, her jewel, her shatze, her Sonny. My parents named me George Paul Hoffman III. Grandma Rowe had a fit. “This child is no third anything. He is unique, a rare gem, one of a kind, so bright and cheerful. He should be called Sonny.”
Okay, maybe I’m taking a few liberties with the quote. I don’t remember it word for word; I was only three days old. Anyway, that’s the story that got handed down. The point is, this woman is nuts about me, always has been, everyone knows it. My sisters accept it, and so does my mother. I am Grandma Rowe’s favorite. To this day, she refuses to call me by my given name. At forty-three, I am still her Sonny.
When I was a young man, I hated the name Sonny. It sounded condescending and wimpy. I was eighteen and had been away from her for several years. It took a great deal of work, but I finally had everyone calling me George. I had pretty much buried Sonny when I brought some buddies to Norfolk on a three-day pass from SF training at Ft. Bragg, NC. Grandma Rowe took them in, showered them with goodies, baked pies and cakes, and loved them up one side and down the other. Frank, David, and John R. just loved her to pieces. They were far from home and it was just what they needed. It would have all been perfect if she hadn’t called me Sonny.
We returned to Ft. Bragg with bloated bellies. I returned with a handle superglued in place. The more I protested, the more glue got applied. Whether I liked it or not, as long as I wore a Green Beret, I’d wear the handle that went with it–Sonny.
I carried no bitterness towards Grandma. She tried to say, George. It wasn’t her fault. I knew it pained her to see me rejecting the name, but she never understood guy things. She knew poodles and roses and cookies and chocolate, but she did not see what was unmanly about Sonny.
When I got my orders for Vietnam, I made it a point to swing by Norfolk and embark from there. Grandma put on a good face and pampered me more than ever. She watched me pack my duffle bag as I talked on about how tough the Green Berets were, how tough I was. She stood by on the verge of tears, handing me rolled socks, T-shirts, shorts, and a shaving kit. I stuffed them in the bag. I reached out to take Granddad’s lucky pen knife and shoved it in the bag. And then, just as surely as if I had opened up her chest, I reached out, took her heart, and stuffed it in the bag.
No, I didn’t need all of her. Most would be useless and in the way. Her back was weak, so she couldn’t carry much ammo. Her orthopedic heels would slow us down in the mud. With no oven, even her cooking skills would be wasted. No, all I needed was her heart. That would come in handy. I stuffed it deep.
When it was time to board the C-141 for California, I had both grandmothers (Rowe and Hoffman) at the Navy base to see me off. Their tears warmed my heart. I knew I’d be missed and mourned if lost. I swaggered out to the plane with that duffle bag carried balanced on my shoulder, Green Beret lit up in the sun. I turned at the tailgate with dramatic bravado and waved, “I’m off to the war. Wish me luck, Grandmas.”
Grandma Hoffman said, “Don’t be a hero!” Grandma Rowe was silent. She could say nothing, only weep. The woman had no heart. I marched up the ramp thinking I was making the journey alone. I was wrong.
In Special Forces we had a saying, “Get them by the balls and their hearts and minds will follow.” Here’s a better one: “Get them by the heart and everything follows.” Yes, without realizing it, I took Grandma to Nam. I took other hearts as well. I took a little of my mother’s, a little of my father’s, half each from two sisters, and a great big chunk of a seventeen-year-old girl named Connie. I had a lot of bits and pieces, but I took one that was whole. I took Grandma to Nam.
Grandma Rowe was with me from the time I stepped off the plane at Cam Ranh Bay till the time I boarded that last freedom bird. She was with me on every mission. She slogged beside me through rice paddies, over mountains, and through monsoon rains. She rode the slicks and carried body bags. The only thing that remained in Norfolk was a hollow shell of a little old lady, and it sat glued to a TV or radio. I narrated some of the actions by mail. David Brinkley, Sam Donaldson, and Peter Arnett brought her the audio and visual.
Some things are too rough for sweet old ladies. I never took her to a steam and cream, a Tu Do street bar, no whore houses, not one of my R&Rs’, and no team parties. She never went fishing with Claymore mines, water skiing behind airboats, skin diving off Hon Tre island, body surfing at Vung Tau or China Beach. She did not get to stroll the Saigon Zoo and see the monkey house get tear-gassed. (Monkeys go ape when they get tear gassed.) No, Grandma never had any fun in Vietnam.
The truth is, when I was not fighting the war–which was ninety percent of the time–I was having the time of my life. A nineteen-year-old boy with a pocket full of green could find endless amusement in SE Asia. Sherman was right, war is hell–a hell of a party if you know where to look.
Unfortunately, Grandma never went to a party. At those times, I left her with Sam, Peter, or David to slug it out with the 1st Cav, or burn a few villages with the Marines, or massacre a few hundred civilians with the Americal division. While I languished in the arms of a professional woman, Grandma carried body bags from a dustoff, wondering if I was in one. And while I never remember hearing a phone ring or the knock on a door, she lived in constant fear of either. Grandma would agree with Billy Sherman: War is hell, period.
I returned from the war, a little older, a little wiser. I was stronger and bigger. When I saw my grandmother, I could not believe the change. She had aged ten years, was shorter, weaker, and totally exhausted. Her black hair was now thin and gray. I returned her heart–battered, broken, and purple. I was just glad I had the good sense not to tell her about the sad deaths of Frank Celano, David Mixter, or John R. Jones. What I should have done was take my Combat Infantryman’s Badge from my uniform, pin it to her dress, step back, and salute the real combat veteran.
One look at her made me realize how close I came to killing the most loving person I ever knew. There is no doubt in my mind, that had a bullet stopped my heart, it would have stopped hers as well. I feel pretty bad about that today. I volunteered to fight that war; she got drafted. Connie didn’t fare much better. She missed out on the fun of high school senior year: no dates, no parties, no prom. My mother suffered, as did my father. My sisters also suffered through nineteen months of the Vietnam War. In a sense, we are all veterans of that war.
If you are a Vietnam veteran, think about the people you carried off to war. Think about the casualties that never set foot in SE Asia. We direct vets from Vietnam have had, on average, twenty-five years in the spotlight. We have been nurtured and we have talked ourselves blue. We have PTSDed our asses off. Most have healed and those that haven’t by now probably never will. Maybe it’s time we stopped looking inward and started looking out. Maybe it’s time we did the listening. Perhaps we can help those other vets heal.
Post Script:
Mabel Rowe is now eighty-four. She rarely ventures more than a few blocks from her home, but she made the pilgrimage to The Wall long before I did. She called and told me about her trip, praised The Wall, and told me how it helped her heal. She, in fact, paved the way for me. Let us not forget the purpose of that wall. It is to heal a nation–a nation of Vietnam Veterans.
Copyright: 1994 By George “Sonny” Hoffman
Here is the link to the original article: http://vietvet.org/grandma.htm
*****
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October 8, 2023
Vietnam War Poetry
I recently received an email from my friend, and Nam Brother, Robert Robeson, who informed me that he recently completed the first draft of a poetry book titled, “The Sights, Sounds, and Smell of War.” He sent me two poems: one is humorous and the other serious which most combat vets can identify with. Have a look!
Retired LTC Robeson was a Dust-Off, medevac pilot with the 236th Med. Det. (Hel. Amb.) in Da Nang (1969-1970) and operations officer before being promoted to commander.
I have seen no combat poetry published on your website but am offering these two should you find them interesting…though a bit out of the normal spectrum of information you usually present.
Admin: I also added two poems found on the FB Group page Que Son Valley Contractors – no author indicated. Perhaps posting poetry will become a new trend. Enjoy!
HOME IS WHERE THE HEART ISby Robert B. Robes
Nothing changed my perspective of our nation’s flag than
leaving home for a war zone and the possibility of
returning with one draped over my metal coffin.
In combat, I gained a unique understanding of what life, freedom
and the preciousness of home and loved ones really mean.
The hardships of war involve witnessing the carnage and cruelty
of battle, while flirting daily with that demon of death.
Surrounded by the insanity of warfare, I only wanted to
return safe and secure to the sanity of home.
Confrontations in combat have always been profane, ugly, and
terrifying because war’s a bloody enterprise where
life-threatening events may occur at any moment.
When it felt as though the world had lost its way, I intimately
realized that my family and home were loved with similar
passion as Satan loves sin, death and destruction.
Even though I was transported halfway around the world, my thoughts
and remembrances of home remained forever etched in my heart.
Returning safely from combat created an unbelievable catharsis for this
grateful soldier. I was fortunate to elude the Grim Reaper. Now
“home” represented my victory over fear, fatigue and fate.
Que Son Valley Contractors (1 of 2)
He would have been 25 in ’75
might have had a house , kids , a wife
a life
could have been Commander of the VFW
never known a moments sorrow
drove a Chevy , maybe a Ford
a guy his friends adored
could have gone hunting , fishing too
taken a trip to the Bronx Zoo
got his Masters Degree
been in debt up to his knees
but …
none of that was to be.
Que Son Valley Contractors (2 of2)
He was raised under the Carolina sun
Called every woman ” Hon “
Then along came that damn Vietnam war
Well , he up and joined the Corps
like his dad did 25 years before
Went off to Paris Island , Schools Company , Staging
A Marine in the making
Thirteen months later home he came
Everyone said .. He’s changed
though he kinda looks the same
then they saw the look in his eyes
knew the guy had died
How his Momma cried
His Momma cried his Dad swore
their son was no more
killed in that damned Vietnam war
and to this day under the Carolina sun
he still fights a war he’s never won .
PAPA-SAN AND THE MONDAY BURNSby Robert B. Robeson
Papa-san, the name we all called him, was skinny as a noodle and
seldom smiled. This Vietnamese male version of a hootch maid in
our unit had many talents. From Tuesday through Friday, he’d help
repair military vehicles in our motor pool under the direction and
watchful eye of a maintenance warrant officer.
But Mondays were different.
Early in the morning he’d collect our unit’s officer and enlisted
latrine waste. He manhandled the 55-gallon drums that had
been cut in half for use in disposing of this odoriferous accumulation.
These metal drums were placed beneath both latrine’s four-seater
holes. He’d move them, one after the other, to a large open area where
fuel oil would be added to this potent mix. Using a long-handled
wooden paddle, he’d stir the nauseating contents to ensure thorough
blending before throwing lit matches into each drum. Clouds of black
smoke would billow out and be lifted aloft by consistent sea breeze
along Da Nang Harbor to the north. With other units on our
compound performing this exercise at the same time, it appeared
they were attempting to communicate through smoke signals.
I’ve often wondered how the Army would have denoted his official
job description duties. Would it have been “Vietnamese national
latrine waste burn specialist?” Maybe “Crap connoisseur
extraordinaire?” Or even “Bowel movement manager, first class?”
It might have taken an entire personnel division, at the Pentagon,
to solve that administrative dilemma.
Papa-san had a large family to feed and this job deferred him from
being part of his country’s cannon fodder. The pay was good. Yet
these mandatory Monday burns must have felt like performing his
own vasectomy surgery. I wonder if he ever told his wife about that
part of his job duties. Without access to nose plugs or effective
deodorizers, perhaps that’s one of the reasons he seldom smiled.
<><><>
Retired LTC Robert Robeson has submitted four previous articles that I published on this website over the years. They are all great stories and are worth a read. I included the titles and links below:
I Knew You’d Come (Guest post)
Death Valley: Remembering August 20, 1969
Remembering Soldiers’ Sacrifices
A MIRACLE AT LANDING ZONE ROSS
*****
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October 1, 2023
The truth about how the US became involved in the Vietnam War.
USS Maddox
I know we all were told that North Vietnam fired upon two U.S. Navy Destroyers in the Gulf of Tonkin and that this second event within two days gave our country a reason to go to war. It was learned many years later that this second event never took place. Here is an eyewitness report on what actually happened and how it fooled everyone.
By Joel Ross
This is a special issue of Ross Rant – I was there and witnessed what and how it happened as it happened.
In 1964, I was supply officer of Kennebec AO36, a US Navy fleet oiler and supply ship. We operated in the South China Sea in 1964. In July 1964 we came into Subic Bay to reload and resupply. While there they loaded a container on our deck probably measuring 8×8 or maybe 8×10. Think of a small shipping container. We were ordered to not have any involvement with the capsule, or the two men operating it. After two weeks at sea, the capsule was offloaded and put aboard Turner Joy -one of the two destroyers involved in the later Gulf of Tonkin incident.
USS Kennebec AO36
While it was aboard my ship I did get a brief look inside, and it was filled with all sorts of electronic gear with antenna on top. I later learned it was an electronic warfare unit able to electronically simulate images on radar and sonar scopes making it appear to the operator that there was an enemy ship, torpedoes, or planes attacking when in fact there was nothing really there. So now this electronic warfare capsule was transferred aboard Turner Joy. (It might have been on Madox, but I cannot recall 60 years later). If you are old enough you will recall that in 1964 there was a widespread fear that if we did not stop the Communists in Vietnam, then they would take over all of SE Asia. That was the prevailing view in Washington and in the media. There was intense pressure to stop them. In 1964 we had a small number of special forces trainers in S Vietnam, but that was deemed not sufficient to stop the N Vietnamese.
USS Turner Joy
So, Turner Joy, Maddox, and my ship left port from Subic Bay around August 1 and sailed just off the coast of N Vietnam. The two destroyers were assigned a route just beyond the 12-mile limit, and we were assigned to standby 60 miles to the east. On the night of August 2, the two destroyers reported they were under torpedo attack by N Vietnamese patrol boats, and had engaged them. A second attack was reported on August 4.
P-4 torpedo boat, similar to those used by the North Vietnamese military
Both attacks took place at night when there was no moon. US aircraft were sent to support the two ships but never could find any sign of any N Vietnamese patrol boats. No torpedoes hit either destroyer. No gunfire was spotted coming from any patrol boats. The next morning, we joined with the two destroyers, and with one on each side, we refueled them. A phone line was strung across my ship to allow the two captains to have a private conversation comparing notes. There was a set of headphones on my ship connected to that phone line. We are ordered to not pick up the headphones. I decided this was a major moment in history, and I was not going to miss my opportunity, so I picked up the headphones and listened until the captain spotted me even though I was far aft and I thought hunkered down out of sight. What I heard was the battle reports of each captain. One said they had detected 12 torpedoes and the other said that was odd since they only detected two. I thought that was weird since both ships had the same model sonar system and they were sailing in tandem.
Chart showing the track of the USS Maddox, July 31 – August 2, 1964 (date of first incident)
Truth – there never was any attack. It was all a setup using that capsule of electronics to simulate the attack. Neither captain knew the truth because they needed them to believe it and report an attack as happening. Macnamara admitted before he died that there was never an attack, but he claimed it was all “a mistake”. A professor from Claremont College actually went to N Vietnam about thirty years ago ( I no longer recall when) and he talked to the patrol boat officers who said they never left port that night. I spoke to him after he returned and got his full report. Last week another US military source reported the whole thing was a hoax. Shortly after the purported attacks we sailed alongside the carrier, and I watched as they launched the first air attacks on N Vietnam, so the US became involved in the war full-time.
Manatee refuels Ticonderoga on 15 July 1965. U.S. Navy photo.
I am convinced that what really happened was LBJ needed an excuse to go to war, and he and CIA concocted this incident to provide the basis for declaring war. The capsule was aboard my ship first to allow the two spooks to practice the required torpedo simulations. Since we were a supply ship we did not have sonar so they were free to practice simulating torpedoes without us ever knowing what they were really doing in that capsule. I am possibly the only person still alive who was there and who knows what really happened that night. Almost nobody on my ship ever knew what was really going on in that capsule. Only a small few of us were informed by the captain. I decided to go fully public now since if I die, nobody will ever have the true whole story of how America became involved in the Vietnam War. The real tragedy is that 58,000 young Americans died there for nothing but a terrible decision by LBJ.
If any of you have good connections to valid historians and want to forward this to them, please do. It needs to be in the historical record.
Admin: This special edition of “The Ross Rant” was emailed to my attention on August 23, 2023.
*****
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September 24, 2023
Mutter’s Ridge
From Wikipedia:
Since the summer of 1966, the North Vietnamese Army made repeated attempts to drive out the Marine forces from the heights of Mutter’s Ridge, which formed a portion of the southern boundary of the Demilitarized Zone. The Marines were charged with preventing enemy infiltration across the DMZ and Ben Hai River. Fighting on the ridge would continue for the next few years.
Mutter’s Ridge was the name given by U.S. Marines to the Núi Cây Tre (“Bamboo Mountain”) ridge, in Quảng Trị Province. The ridge was formed by Hills 461, 484, and 400 and overlooked the southern edge of the Vietnamese Demilitarized Zone (DMZ) to the north and Route 9 to the south.
The ridge was contested between the Marines and the People’s Army of Vietnam (PAVN) starting with Operation Prairie in August 1966 and was named for the radio callsign of the 3rd Battalion 4th Marines which secured the ridge in September/October 1966.
From 1966-1969 the Marines variously established and abandoned bases along the ridge to support operations against the PAVN, including Landing Zone Mack on Hill 484, Landing Zone Margo, and Landing Zone Sierra.
It is on this ridge that Larry Burrows shot his famous picture of a wounded black sergeant “reaching out” to a white comrade sitting in the mud.
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If you never heard of the Battle of Mutter’s Ridge it’s probably because not many have or didn’t hear about it. Although 24 Marines were killed and 58 wounded during my fight, they received little publicity. It happened at the time that Charles Manson killed those people and the news press thought that was more important to report than the Marines who had died in Vietnam at Mutters Ridge.
Because Mutter’s Ridge controlled a key infiltration route from North Vietnam into South Vietnam, it was contested ground from the first days of American involvement in the war. While ownership of the ridgeline, and especially of the peaks, changed hands several times during the Vietnam War, the 3rd Marine Division more or less retained control of the area. During the summer of 1969, that control was severely tested by the North Vietnamese Army’s 304th Division,
During the summer of 1969, the North Vietnamese Army made repeated attempts to drive out the Marine forces from the heights of Mutter’s Ridge, which formed a portion of the southern boundary of the Demilitarized Zone.
Echo Company had been sent into this area to seek and destroy any and all enemy forces that it would encounter. The operation was named Operation Idaho Canyon beginning in August, squad-sized patrols were sent out every day to locate enemy forces. There were brief exchanges of rifle fire. We knew they were there and they knew where we were at night.
On the night of August 9, the 3rd Platoon (that I was with) and the attached portion of the 81mm Mortar Platoon established a night defensive position near Hill 484. At midnight we were put on full alert. That the enemy was probing our defenses to find a way in. They would throw hand grenades and satchel charges at our perimeter. We were told not to fire back with our weapons and give our positions away. We took cover when the grenades were thrown. We threw our grenades at them hoping that would drive them away.
No one slept and everyone had their combat gear on. Early morning of August 10, at about 0300H, we could hear movement and orders in Vietnamese given out. A few minutes after that we received incoming artillery on our position. All we could do was get in our holes and hope that an artillery round won’t land in our holes. It seemed like forever that the artillery bombardment continued.
At approximately 0430H, the Vietnamese launched a ground assault against our perimeter using automatic rifle fire, rocket-propelled grenades, and satchel charges(a bag with dynamite inside) during their attack. The perimeter was breached several times and each time we drove them back. The Vietnamese company would withdraw but only to organize and attack again. This fighting back and forth lasted until about 0615H when the Vietnamese made their last attack and once again we held our perimeter and the NVA withdrew.
All communication with Headquarters had been lost for about an hour and the platoon commander was unable to call for artillery fire on our position. The Marine artillery was unable to provide supporting fire and was hesitant to fire on our position. Once the NVA had withdrawn the platoon commander was able to locate a radio and called in a fire mission on the departing NVA. The call for medical evacuation was received at Headquarters and helicopters were dispatched to pick up the Marines that were wounded and dead.
Arriving at our landing zone at 1015H, the helicopters received artillery fire. One landed, picked up a few wounded but took off. We helped and carried some of the wounded to the next ridge. Again the helicopters came in and the NVA commenced their artillery fire. The 58 wounded Marines were aboard. The decision was made to leave the 24 Marines that had been killed where they were. Headquarters did not want to lose any helicopters, pilots, and crew members. Those of us that remained were given orders to hump further up the ridge line and wait until dark.
We had all our packs and gear blown up. We kept our helmets, and flack jackets. The orders were that we were going back for the dead Marines. Alpha Company had sent in a platoon to provide security. We went back in the cover of darkness not knowing what to expect or if the enemy would be waiting for us. Would we be able to locate all the bodies? Would we encounter the enemy there recovering their own? A million questions went through our minds. Every nerve is on edge. We had survived one night. Would we survive another one? Needless to say, we carried the dead Marines all night. The bodies were wrapped in ponchos and had been out in the sun all day. The smell of blood, feces, and decomposing bodies was overwhelming. Most of the bodies were in bad shape to just look at much less carry them all night.
August 11, at 1015H, we stopped and constructed a landing zone. A radio call was made and helicopters were sent for the pickup. My friends and I boarded the helicopters with the dead Marines. Those six of us that survived our platoon of 45 Marines were, Brooks Mayti, Rocco Laurie, Steve Brenesien, Fred Diaz, Gregory Germany, and myself. We had been without sleep for 2 days. In such life-threatening situations, the body is capable of survival because of the adrenaline the body produces. It takes some time for that feeling to go away. It’s like taking a drug.
The saddest part about the dead Marines is that in the darkness we miscounted. A Marine was left behind. The dead Marine was one of my good friends PFC Charles Alton Poe. He always joked about being related to Edgar A. Poe and he would start quoting The Raven. A Recon Team was sent to locate the body. He was found three days later on August 13. I had taken his picture on the afternoon of August 9 and asked him what he was thinking about. He answered I have a bad feeling. Here’s the address of my wife in CA. Just in case I don’t make it out of here. Several months after being discharged I contacted his wife but never told her what actually happened to Charles. I know he was in a closed casket and that must have been hard for her. It was hard for me. I regret not telling her about him and never sending that one last picture of him. I still remember him after all these years.
Having been to Vietnam is something I will never forget and do not regret much. I regret not being able to save some Marines. But I’m satisfied that there were those that I did. I was sent to do something for my country and to attempt to save another country where its citizens were being slaughtered and butchered for no reason. I do regret that we were given a job to do but hindered by those in DC.
I know that I’m able to travel anywhere in this country and if I find myself in trouble I can call any of my Marine friends and they will come help me. Such is the brotherhood that exists among Marines. A brotherhood forged in combat with sweat, blood, and tears. A brotherhood that exists until we are no more. We lived together, we cried for our friends that died, we shared our lives, our hopes and dreams, we shared everything, we shared about our families back home, some of them gave their lives, and we bled and shed our blood together. Some of us still continue to share things after all these years. No better brotherhood exists.
With everything that happened while I was over there, I know and believe that God was with me and protected me. I never gave up on Him knowing that He wouldn’t give up on me. That He had a plan for me to return home and be here today. Perhaps I haven’t done much in several years. But thinking back on where I was and have been, seen, and done, I think I have experienced more in one year than some people do in a lifetime. This is a chapter of my life that I haven’t shared much with other people. There was too much sweat, blood, and tears, and a part of me died in Vietnam. A lot of things are best left unsaid.
Semper Fi
Antonio Gonsales
The battle portion of this article was featured on: https://pfcdonaldelliott.com/muttersridge.html
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September 3, 2023
Looking Back on ‘China Beach,’ 30 Years Later
From Wikipedia:
China Beach was an American war drama television series set at an evacuation hospital during the Vietnam War. The title refers to My Khe Beach in the city of Đà Nẵng, Vietnam, nicknamed “China Beach” in English by American and Australian soldiers during the Vietnam War.
The series looked at the Vietnam War from the perspectives of the women, military personnel, and civilians who were present during the conflict.
Set at the fictitious 510th Evacuation Hospital and R&R facility (the “Five-and-Dime”), the series cast of characters included US Army doctors and nurses, officers, soldiers, Red Cross volunteers, and civilian personnel (American, French, and Vietnamese). The series also featured the experiences of the characters when they returned to the United States, either on leave or at the end of their tours of duty. The show does not shy away from showing the brutality of war; it provides a gritty view of the experience and its aftermath.
The show was inspired in part by the book Home Before Morning (1983) written by the former U.S. Army Nurse Lynda Van Devanter. The show’s character Nurse Colleen McMurphy roughly follows Van Devanter’s experiences as a nurse in Vietnam. The book takes the reader from Van Devanter’s wish to serve her country through the adventure she thought her deployment to Vietnam would be, her culture shock upon returning to “the States”, and her struggles with PTSD. The show was canceled before it could fully address McMurphy’s PTSD issues. Van Devanter died in 2002.
The article by Dan Clarendon
Thursday, July 22, marks 30 years since ABC aired the series finale of China Beach, a drama about the Vietnam War that looked back on the conflict not from the perspective of the soldiers on the front line but of the women working as nurses and entertainers. The result was a fresh take on what is still a painful chapter of American history.
Airing from 1988 to 1991, China Beach followed nurse Colleen McMurphy (Dana Delany) as she lived and worked at an evacuation hospital and USO entertainment center at the titular beach on the South China Sea during the war…and as she romanced pilot Natch Austen (Tim Ryan) and pined for Dr. Dick Richard (Robert Picardo). Among the rest of the cast of characters were aspiring singer Laurette (Chloe Webb), draftee Beckett (Michael Boatman), reporter Wayloo Marie (Meghan Gallagher), Red Cross workers Cherry (Nan Woods) and Holly (Ricki Lake), commanding officer Lila (Concetta Tomei) and civilian volunteer K.C. (Marg Helgenberger).
“This show was about people who were in Vietnam not to fight or kill but to save lives and to help cushion the impact of war,” co-creator and Vietnam veteran William Broyles said in a DVD featurette.
John Sacret Young—the show’s other creator, whose cousin died in combat in Vietnam—added that Broyles’ original pitch was a half-hour comedy set in a hotel in Saigon. But Young had a different idea, as he said in the featurette: “Let’s put it not in Saigon but in a place in Vietnam where all these things come together, and where you can actually feel the war over the hill, and the helicopters can come in with the wounded, and yet you have the R&R center, and you have the beach. So we found this place that was real based on reality called China Beach.”
(China Beach is the nickname U.S. and Australian military personnel gave to a beach in Đà Nẵng, Vietnam, during the war, though local tourism officials have objected to the moniker.)
“We discussed, is there a way to tell a story that hasn’t been told?” Young recalled, talking to the Los Angeles Times in 2013. “That is when we came to think about the role of women. Many of them volunteered. It seemed crucial, interesting, and relevant.”
And because the series took place in the 1960s, China Beach featured the music of the era: Diana Ross & the Supremes’ “Reflections” was the show’s theme song, for example, and Nancy Sinatra guest-starred in the Season 1 finale to perform for the onscreen troops, just as she had done in real life two decades prior.
In fact, it was the music rights for China Beach’s pop-hit soundtrack that delayed its DVD release: Time Life finally released a complete-series DVD set in 2013, with more than 10 hours of bonus material, after securing the rights to 268 songs.
Over the course of its four-season run, China Beach landed praise from critics like the Los Angeles Times’ Howard Rosenberg who called the show “grim and brooding, yet captivating, unforgettable and not to be missed” in a review of the first season, adding that it “burns its own agonizing images into the small screen, setting them off with streaks of humor that relieve the tension.”
The show earned 29 Emmy nominations, including three consecutive nods for Outstanding Drama Series. Delany won Outstanding Lead Actress in a Drama Series twice, while Helgenberger took home an Outstanding Supporting Actress Emmy.
In an appraisal of the drama upon its series finale, The New York Times’ John J. O’Connor said China Beach “sensitively tapped into national terrain that remains difficult.”
The show also sheds light on the struggles of those who served in Vietnam, according to CBS News Sunday Morning correspondent Nancy Giles, who played Private Frankie on the series. “There were still so many Vietnam veterans who were feeling maligned, under-appreciated and misunderstood,” Giles told the Los Angeles Times. “I went to quite a few events with veterans, and I knew it helped heal a lot of people. It got a dialogue started. It helped them talk about what happened.”
Added Delany, “The nurses were in as horrific situations as the soldiers were. Never before had the nurses been allowed to talk about their PTSD. They had this guilt of ‘I wasn’t actually on the battlefield, what right do I have to talk about it?’ With China Beach, they started talking openly about post-traumatic stress.”
“There were so many stories to tell,” Young said in a China Beach DVD featurette. “And we feel honored and lucky to at least have had the chance to tell some.”
This post originally appeared on the TV Insider website on July 22, 2021. Here’s the direct link: https://www.tvinsider.com/1006080/china-beach-30th-anniversary-history/
The YouTube videos were attached to this post by the administrator of this website.
Were you a fan of this show? What were your thoughts about it? Use the comment section below for the discussion
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