War Stories

How I Began My Military Career-Ben A.

2011-12-02T15:58:00.001-06:00

This is an account of my US Navy enlisted service from January 1943 to March1946. I probably traveled furtherin those 38 months that I did in the 30 years in the US Army.

I finished high school in Thatcher, Arizona in 1941which turned out to be a toughyear for entering military service. Fortunately I graduated at age 16, not dueto my natural brilliance, but the fact that the state of Virginia only had 11years of schooling at that time. I started school in Virginia in 1930 andcontinued there until we moved to Arizona in 1938.

Inearly 1942, my father, an Army Captain, received order to go to Eritrea toserve with the British forces there. Before he left he told me NOT to enlist inthe military. I was supposed to return to school and sharpen my math and otherhigh school subjects. He wanted me to attend Virginia Polytechnic Institute andenroll in ROTC.

Assoon as I was 18 I knew that my time was near for being drafted into the USForces. I decided to enlist in the US Navy. After boot camp I was sent toNewport, RI to attend fire control school. (That is not fire fighting but firedirection. It helps the gunners hit their targets.)

As aSeaman Second Class my first ship was the USS Milwaukee. It was a lightcruiser. It’s home port was Recife, Brazil. Its mission was to search for anddestroy German submarines. A destroyer accompanied us. It provided the sonar todetect the enemy subs. We would sail for two weeks along the equator for toAfrica and return to Recife for a day of liberty.

Afterapproximately four months of this duty the ship was ordered to proceed to NewYork. The next mission was to accompany a convoy of troop ships To Belfast,Ireland. We then sailed to Edinburgh, Scotland for two days of liberty. Fromthere we sailed North to Scapa Flow, Scotland where we joined a British convoyin route to Murmansk, Russia. When we arrived there we would transfer theMilwaukee to the Russian Navy.

Thetransfer required 30 days of training the Russians. During that time we livedon one half of the ship and the Russians on the other half. The name of thecruiser was changed to the Mermansk. The US flag was replaced by the Russianflag to signify the completion of the transfer.

Withouta ship we were assigned to US liberty ships and British ships for our return toScotland. Four other sailors were with me on a liberty ship for the journey.About half way back to Scotland we were attacked by two German subs off thecoast of Norway. They launched two torpedoes at the “baby” aircraft carrier inthe fleet, but a liberty ship took the hit. It sank immediately with the twotorpedoes in her hull. Several hundred Russian sailors in the ship’s hold wentdown the ship. The subs proceeded ahead of the convoy and released mines thatfloated back into our convoy.

Uponreaching Scapa Flow we thought we would be transported back home to get a newlight cruiser. No such luck! Our mission was to go to Barry, Wales and re-commissionthe SS President Warfield and proceed to Milford Haven, Wales and participatein the invasion of France, on June 7, 1944. Our mission, along with three othersimilar ships had been transferred to the British Navy in 1942. These ships, along with other similarships, were to go to Normandy, in case the Omaha Beach mission failed. Itdidn’t. We were sent anyway and remained there to provide support untilreplaced by a relief crew. Then it was back to Glasgow, Scotland to board theBritish ship the Queen Elizabeth that took us back to the US.

Aftertaking some leave time my shipmates and I were sent to Norfolk and assigned tothe battleship USS New York. We set sail after a couple of weeks. The shipsailed South to Panama, sailed West through the canal and proceeded across thePacific Ocean to participate in the battle of Iwo Jima. We bombarded MountSuribachi for three days. Unfortunately a blade on the starboard propellerbroke off. We were then sailed (limped) South to the small island, Manus, near New Guinea to gointo a floating dry dock to replace the broken screw. It took three weeks toget the propeller replaced so that we could back into the battle.

Wejoined the fleet that was assembled to attack the island of Okinawa. Weprovided support for a Marine Division going ashore in the City of Naha. Afterexpending expending our 14 inchshells, we sailed to a small island off of Okinawa to rearm. During the process I had the misfortuneto my hand get in the way of a nose cone on a 14 inch round. That cost me theend of my left right thumb.

Feelingsorry for me, I was ordered to leave the ship and proceed to San Diego toattend the Navy gunnery advance course. The only proviso was that I had to“hitchhike” back. It took 30 days and six different ships to get there.

Thewar ended in August 1945 and I was assigned to Little Creek, VA near Norfolk tocomplete my Naval service in March, 1946.

Butenough of my sea stories – I have sailed both oceans – from the equator to theNorth Pole in the Atlantic and from Iwo Jima South to the equator and NewGuinea. This amounts to amultitude of travel.

Ienjoyed my service with the Navy. Much of what I learned during my Navy serviceI was able to use during my Army service from 1950 to 1979. But, that is another story.

Last U.S. WWI Veteran Dies at 110

2011-03-01T19:04:00.000-06:00

This is obviously not a war story of mine, but I wish to post this tribute to a true and worthy U.S. patriot.

MORGANTOWN, W.Va. – He didn't seek the spotlight, but when Frank Buckles outlived every other American who'd served in World War I, he became what his biographer called "the humble patriot" and final torchbearer for the memory of that fading conflict.

Buckles enlisted in World War I at 16 after lying about his age. He died Sunday on his farm in Charles Town, nearly a month after his 110th birthday. He had devoted the last years of his life to campaigning for greater recognition for his former comrades, prodding politicians to support a national memorial in Washington.

When asked in February 2008 how it felt to be the last survivor, Buckles said simply, "I realized that somebody had to be, and it was me."

Only two known veterans remain, according to the Order of the First World War, a Florida group whose members are descendants of WWI veterans and include Buckles' daughter. The survivors are Florence Green in Britain and Claude Choules in Australia, said Robert Carroon, the group's senior vice commander. Choules, who served in Britain's Royal Navy, was born in that country but now lives in Australia. Green turned 110 on Feb. 19, and Choules turns 110 in March, he said.

Born in Missouri in 1901 and raised in Oklahoma, Buckles visited a string of military recruiters after the United States in April 1917 entered what was called "the war to end all wars." He was repeatedly rejected before convincing an Army captain he was 18.

More than 4.7 million people joined the U.S. military from 1917-18. By 2007, only three survived. Buckles went to Washington that year to serve as grand marshal of the national Memorial Day parade.

Unlike Buckles, the other two survivors were still in basic training in the United States when the war ended, and they did not make it overseas. When they died in late 2007 and 2008, Buckles became the last so-called doughboy — and a soft-spoken celebrity.

Details for services and arrangements will be announced later this week, but the family is planning a burial in Arlington National Cemetery. In 2008, friends persuaded the federal government to make an exception to its rules for who can be interred there. President Barack Obama ordered that the day Buckles is buried that all U.S. flags on official buildings be lowered to half-staff.

Buckles had already been eligible to have his cremated remains housed at the cemetery. Burial, however, normally requires meeting several criteria, including earning one of five medals, such as a Purple Heart.

Buckles never saw combat but once joked, "Didn't I make every effort?"

U.S. Rep. Shelley Moore Capito and the rest of West Virginia's congressional delegation were also working Monday on a plan to allow Buckles to lie in repose in the rotunda of the U.S. Capitol. According to the Architect of the Capitol's website, the last person to do so was President Gerald Ford.

The honor is reserved mostly for elected and military officials, but others have included civil rights activist Rosa Parks and unknown soldiers from both World Wars and the Korean War.

Sen. Jay Rockefeller called Buckles "a wonderfully plainspoken man and an icon for the World War I generation" and said he will continue fighting for the memorial Buckles wanted.

"He lived a long and rich life as a true American patriot," said Sen. Joe Manchin, "and I hope that his family's loss is lightened with the knowledge that he was loved and will be missed by so many."

The family asked that donations be made to the National World War One Legacy Project. The project is managed by the nonprofit Survivor Quest and will educate students about Buckles and WWI through a documentary and traveling educational exhibition.

"We have lost a living link to an important era in our nation's history," said Secretary of Veterans Affairs Eric Shinseki. "But we have also lost a man of quiet dignity, who dedicated his final years to ensuring the sacrifices of his fellow 'Doughboys' are appropriately commemorated."

In spring 2007, Buckles told The Associated Press of the trouble he went through to get into the military. "I went to the state fair up in Wichita, Kansas, and while there, went to the recruiting station for the Marine Corps," he said. "The nice Marine sergeant said I was too young when I gave my age as 18, said I had to be 21." Buckles returned a week later. "I went back to the recruiting sergeant, and this time I was 21," he said with a grin. "I passed the inspection ... but he told me I just wasn't heavy enough."Then he tried the Navy, whose recruiter told Buckles he was flat-footed. Buckles wouldn't quit. In Oklahoma City, an Army captain demanded a birth certificate. "I told him birth certificates were not made in Missouri when I was born, that the record was in a family Bible. I said, 'You don't want me to bring the family Bible down, do you?'" Buckles said with a laugh. "He said, 'OK, we'll take you.'"

Buckles served in England and France, working mainly as a driver and a warehouse clerk. An eager student of culture and language, he used his off-duty hours to learn German, visit cathedrals, museums and tombs, and bicycle in the French countryside.

After Armistice Day, Buckles helped return prisoners of war to Germany. He returned to the United States in January 1920.

After the war, he returned to Oklahoma, then moved to Canada, where he worked a series of jobs before heading for New York City. There, he landed jobs in banking and advertising. But it was the shipping industry that suited him best, and he worked around the world for the White Star Line Steamship Co. and W.R. Grace & Co.

In 1941, while on business in the Philippines, Buckles was captured by the Japanese. He spent more than three years in prison camps.

"I was never actually looking for adventure," he once said. "It just came to me."

3rd Infantry Division Photographs-91st Annual Reunion 2010 Washington DC Page-1

2010-10-21T12:03:00.001-05:00

3rd Infantry Division Photographs-91st Annual Reunion 2010 Washington DC Page-1

How I Began My Military Career-"Sam" S.

2010-06-28T09:16:00.000-05:00

Four things in life I said I was never going to do -- join the military, get married, be a preacher, or work for the VA! Guess what? Watch out what you tell the Almighty about what you are not going to do! I served five years in the Army Reserves, 30 years active duty as a chaplain, 42 years of marriage, and 10 years as a chaplain at the VA Eisenhower Medical Center. And I can’t forget the almost nine years as the senior pastor of the Rock of Ages Evangelical Free Church, Leavenworth, Kansas.

How did this all come about? A sweet young gal named Linda came swimming by my lifeguard raft in Northern Minnesota. Four years later we were married. What a gal! My dad, a WWII combat engineer, and my uncle Bill Meadows, a former Marine, kept telling their war stories. Barry Sadler kept singing about the Green Berets on the radio. I heard the call. I signed up for the US Marines, OCS, and was supposed to report for duty in October, 1965. They lost my paper work. Does that sound familiar? Meanwhile I went to Ft. Snelling, Minnesota and signed up as a lab tech, combat medic. I didn’t tell them about being sworn into the Marines. I called the Marines and told them I changed my mind. I should have heard from them about the lost paperwork. They said they would get back to me. I’m still waiting for that call.

I was wild medic to say the least. The major threatened to send me and my wise guy buddies to active duty driving ambulances in Viet Nam. That got our attention. The unit chaplain and my youth pastor heard that I was interested in youth ministry. They recognized that the military was the largest “youth group” in the world. Acting wild in a serious business could cost folks their lives. They told me that the Army needed “fired-up” chaplains to bring faith in someone bigger than themselves. Meanwhile, Linda felt the call to be a missionary. I was out-numbered and out-gunned. I became a 2^nd LT chaplain candidate in 1967 and went on active duty as a chaplain at Ft. Leonard Wood, MO. After that I was assigned to the Lane Army Heliport of the 7-17^th Cav, An Son, Viet Nam, and the rest is history.

I have served as chaplain for thousands of great soldiers, their family members and more than a few great general officers. They are indeed a huge youth group. Many gave their lives for the cause of freedom. Along the way I had the complete support of a number one military wife. Thank you, Linda.

I’m still serving as a chaplain for the VA, the bone yard of wounded warriors, and am a member of the Old Bastards, another group of old warriors. I make an effort to bring faith, hope and love to the broken down troopers at the VA and the OB’s.

Never say never. Walk by faith, not by sight.

If Moses could handle his most difficult assignment at age 80, Caleb at 85, and those stepping out in faith in Hebrews Chapter 11, I never say never.

Serving as a pastor and chaplain for 40 years, I never say never.

Serving 35 years in the Army, and 10 years with the VA, I never say never.

Being blessed with a wonderful marriage for 42 years, with five children, I never say never.

It is no secret what God can do when you step out in faith!

By the way, still waiting for a call from the Marines. Apparently the paper work hasn’t surfaced yet.

I wouldn’t trade it all for anything.

May our Heavenly Commander continue to bless and keep us all.

The Battle of Soui Tre (LZ Gold)-Joe B.

2010-04-13T18:00:00.002-05:00

The Battle of Soui Tre took place March 18 and 19, 1967. At the time I was the Commanding Officer (CO) of the 118^th Attack Helicopter Company (AHC). The company was a part of the 145^th Combat Aviation Battalion. For this operation out battalion was augmented with the 335^th AHC on March 18 and the 68^th AHC on March 18^th.

Saturday, March 18, 1967

On the above date the 145^th Combat Aviation Battalion had the mission to insert an Infantry unit into a landing zone (LZ) in War Zone C. The operation was staged from a pickup zone (PZ) located on the edge of Ap Trai Dan. The Infantry unit’s mission, with a direct support artillery unit, was to establish a fire base om the location of the LZ. The original plan called for an Armored Cavalry unit to go out and secure the LZ. Once secured the 145^th Cbt Avn Bn was to airlift the Infantry unit from the PZ to the LZ. I believe it was to require six or seven lifts. En route to secure the LZ the Armored Cav unit was ambushed and stopped. Their efforts during the day were unsuccessful and they failed to complete their mission.

There were two Assault Helicopter companies participating in this battalion operation - the 118^th AHC under my command and the 335^th AHC, a company on loan to the 145^th from the 173^rd Airborne Brigade. The 335^th was assigned as the direct support aviation company.

Around mid-afternoon a standard combat assault operation was considered but rejected. After waiting all day, the 145^th mission was cancelled and the AHC’s were released to return to their respective home bases. The mission would be continued on March 19^th.

Sunday (Palm Sunday), March 19, 1967

On this date the 145^th Cbt Avn Bn had the mission to return and complete the mission from the previous day. This time it would be a combat assault insertion of the Infantry unit. The operation was again staged from the PZ on the edge of ApTrai Dan. The 118^th AHC was a participating unit. The 68^th AHC replaced the 335^th AHC on Sunday. Our final briefings on the operation were conducted at the PZ. The 68^th AHC was designated the lead company for the operation. The final briefing provided several facts - War Zone C had a limited number of LZ’s that could handle a battalion sized combat assault; no preparatory fires were planned; and our formation would have ten aircraft in each company. There would be a two-minute separation between the two companies.

The operation began around 0900. The 68^th made its approach into the LZ, disembarked their troops; took off and reported the LZ “COLD”. It was a surprise and some relief to hear that transmission. The 118^th made its approach to the LZ. The troops disembarked and I was just starting my takeoff when there was a horrendous explosion behind me. Radios became alive and reported that three aircraft near the middle of our formation had been damaged and were burning. The 118^th aircraft managed to fly out of the LZ. One aircraft from the 118th reported control problems and had to quickly land just a short distance away from the LZ. A Bandit Gun Team put protective cap on them until help could arrive. Five aircraft got back to the LZ, still in flyable condition. A sixth aircraft got back to the PZ a little bit late despite moderate damage. It could not be used when the mission continued. At this point the 118^th had only five operational aircraft.

The operation was temporarily stopped to assess the situation. In a span of a few minutes the operation was resumed. The troops on the ground from the first lift would secure an area in the LZ to accommodate flights of five aircraft.

In the second lift, the two flights of five ahead of me in the 68^th went in and out with no problems. As directed, I came to a hover and the troops jumped out. Before I could start my takeoff, there was a strong explosion in front of my helicopter. Everything went black and the XO and I were both struck by debris The explosion blew out the chin bubbles, part of the windshield and bent the front doors. We had to exit the aircraft through the cargo doors. The major explosion to the 118^th’s formation in the first lift was a rigged unexploded 250-pound bomb.

It was an assault that could have had fewer difficulties for our unit, but it was successful.

A Baker's Dirty Dozen

2010-04-12T17:45:00.001-05:00

Unlike those others who contribute to this site, I never saw action during my 1968-'72 tour of duty in the U.S. Navy. The closest I ever came to being in harm's way was during ports of call in Turkey and other Middle-Eastern countries. Because of the prevailing anti-American sentiments in that part of the world at the time, we were ordered to travel about in groups of six or more when we went ashore. Our instructions were to "take whatever action necessary to protect ourselves and our shipmates" while off ship. Although we had to ignore profanities and had to dodge projectiles hurled at us a few times, there were no incidents. Today I came across an interesting obituary in our local newspaper.

John Agnew - April 8, 2010 at the age of 88.
John 'Jack' Agnew, one of the original members of a U.S. Army unit that operated behind enemy lines in World War II and is often credited with having inspired the movie "The Dirty Dozen," has died at the age of 88.

The Filthy Thirteen was the name given to a sub-unit of the regimental headquarters of the 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment, Division, of the United States Army, which fought in the European campaign in World War II. This unit was selected and trained to demolish enemy targets behind the lines.

They were assigned to destroy a bridge over the Douve River during the Normandy Invasion of Europe in June 1944, a mission that cost the lives of most of these men. The group was airdropped for the mission by aircraft of the 440th Troop Carrier Group of the U.S. Army Air Force.

This unit was best known for the famous photo (above) which appeared in Stars and Stripes, showing two members wearing Indian-style mohawks and applying war paint to one another. The inspiration for this came from Jake McNiece, who was part Native-American.

After a disciplinary incident while on leave, McNiece joined the "Pathfinders". These were paratroopers sent in ahead of the main force to guide them in. Expected casualties were 80-90%. The pathfinders were dropped into the encircled city of Bastogne at the height of the Battle of the Bulge. Their equipment enabled them to guide in subsequent airdrops of supplies crucial to the continued resistance of the trapped 101st Airborne Division.

Many believe this unit was the inspiration for E.M. Nathanson's The Dirty Dozen a view supported by interviews with the daughter of a surviving member of the unit. Barbara Maloney, the daughter of John Agnew, a private in the Filthy Thirteen, told the American Valor Quarterly that her father felt that 30% of the movie's content was historically correct, including a scene where officers are captured during a training exercise.

Unlike the Dirty Dozen, the Filthy Thirteen were not convicts; however, they were men prone to drinking and fighting and often spent time in the stockade. While there were similarities between the Filthy Thirteen and the Dirty Dozen, there were also many differences. The name "Filthy 13" referred to the fact that while training in England, they washed and shaved once a week and never cleaned their uniforms.

R.I.P. John Agnew, a true American hero.

My Most Memorable Flight.

2010-04-08T05:00:00.002-05:00

Most would assume that it occurred during one of my two combat tours in Viet Nam, but not so. It actually happened at Luke AFB, near Phoenix, AZ , two years after my last combat tour. I was an instructor pilot in the F-4 RTU (Replacement Training Unit). The mission was to take Lieutenants and check them out in the F-4. This was a 6 month very intensive flying and academic course to train these young pilots and navigators to fly the F-4 as a weapons system before reporting to an operational unit.

The particular mission was a two ship formation and aerobatic flight. I was number two in the back seat with my student pilot who was on his 4th ride. The other plane was the lead aircraft for the formation phase with a student navigator on his first flight. The two students were to be crewed together when the student pilot flew his first flight without an instructor. We were about 70nm NW of Luke when the incident happened. Now the interesting part of all of this is that I am terrified of heights. I know, it does not make a lot of sense, but it does not bother me too much in a plane. The reason that this had an impact was the instructor pilot in the other plane kept telling me to eject and I kept asking if it was on fire yet. It was a long way to the ground.

Captain Thomas M. Rourke, receieved the Tactical Air Command Aircrewman of Distinction Award for April 1974.

On 13 March 1974, Captain Rourke was flying as an instructor pilot….Shortly after initiating the maneuvers,…Captain Rourke felt a thump. He was advised that fuel was streaming heavily from the auxiliary air doors and the main gear doors. Both cockpits immediately filled with heavy fuel fumes. Suspecting a fuselage fuel cell rupture, Captain Rourke directed the student to switch to 100% oxygen and pull the cabin pressure dump valve. He then took over control of the aircraft. Rourke advised the control tower of the situation and turned the aircraft back toward the base. He flew the plane in a manner that would allow for ejection if necessary. Rourke also advised the tower that he would be making a downwind landing. He made an uneventful, no-flap, back seat landing on the downwind runway. Post flight investigation revealed that the left external wing and the center line fuel tank pressure regulators malfunctioned resulting in a massive rupture of the #3 fuselage fuel cell.

Captain Rourke’s decisive action during this critical emergency resulted in saving a valuable tactical aircraft and prevented possible loss of life.
(The information above is a summary of an article that appeared on page 13 in a 1974 edition of the TAC Attack.)

The bottom line, was that it turned out to be my 5 minutes of fame and I could do no wrong after that. The incident was written up in the TAC Attack magazine and I received the Air Force “Well Done Award”. I also got a letter from Brig Gen Chuck Yeager, who was Chief of Safety for the Air Force at the time. I did not know it at the time, but I was told later that I was the first person that had had this problem in the F-4 that had not burned or blown up. Don’t know if it was true or not, but I believe it.

How I Began My Military Career-Roy J.

2010-04-06T05:00:00.000-05:00

The Old and New Blue Angels - enjoy

I did ! I did ! I did !

Back in the dark ages, a sailor in the Great Lakes Electronics School held a piece of paper that stated combined battery scores were sufficient to candidate for the Naval Aviation Cadet Program. He had limited private airplane experience and thought this might be a fun chance. Arriving at the Glenview Naval Airstation, north of Chicago, the first thing that caught his eye as he stepped off the bus was a flight line of Grumman Bearcats. The decision was made, that's what I want. Of the 15 or so sailors tested, only three qualified, Wagner, Anderson, and Johnsen. In less than a month, Ken Anderson had his orders to the Cadet program. A few weeks later, Wagner received his. I'm next - and excitement was building.

Excitement faded as I graduated from Electronics Tech School and was assigned to the USS Rehoboth, AGS 30, a coast and geodesic survey ship - and ship out we did - for six months of ocean floor mapping. To Iceland, To Portugal, To the Netherlands, To Spain and then home. Once back in Philadelphia, I took leave and hastened home to my folks home on Long Island and to straddle my 1944 surplus Army Harley 45. Only two miles from the house, enroute to the post office, a green 1936 Chevy four door sedan came out of no where, hit the bike and the next thing I knew I was in St Albans Naval Hospital with a few broken items and severe road rash.

The first night back aboard the ReBob, I was happily dreaming what young sailors dream about when the radioman shook me. "Wake up !! You're going to Pensacola and you have to report to the division officer first thing in the morning. Good God, I had all but forgotten the cadet program and thought that if Anderson and Wagner got their orders so swiftly and it's taken seven months for me, they must be scraping the bottom of the barrel.

In the morning, following quarters, I went to the division officer's compartment where, on my entry, he told me to sit down because I had an important decision to make. I thought I was in deep kimshee - one usually stood at attention before the division officer and here I was being seated. He handed me two sets of orders - one to Annapolis Prep School and the other to the Aviation Cadet Program. Telling me to think a bit, he left the compartment, saying that when he returned, he wanted my answer so appropriate orders could be cut.

If I chose Annapolis and washed out, I'd have four more years to serve as an ET. If, on the other hand, I chose Pensacola and washed out, the cadet time would count with my time already served and I'd be discharged with an honorable. I think that realization played a great part in choosing the cadet program.

What's all that have to do with Bearcats? Well, after finishing Basic in Pensacola, there were several days of leave plus travel time to Corpus Christie that allowed me to visit the assignment desk every day pleading for bearcats. "No such luck, cadet - you're going to shrimp boats" PBYs. for three days in a row that was the sword that hung over me. On the final day, nine of us were there and the news was fantastic - four slots for Hellcats, two for Bearcats, and three for ADs. Draw of the hat and one of the bearcat slots was mine. Sad to say, my delight was traded for Hellcats. Two of the cadets had progressed through Basic almost side by side and, when one got the other Bearcat slot, the pleading to give mine up began. Only when the assignment officer said that the Bearcat pipeline was clogged for the next four weeks did I agree to go Hellcats. No delays there and finishing four weeks before the Bearcat program meant four weeks seniority when commissioned.

While in Advanced training, flying a Hellcat over Arransas Pass, TX, on a bright Sunday morning, about 9, the light bulb went on. This is what I want to do the rest of my life - Fly !!! Rolls, spins, loops YES ~! we consummated the marriage. Sad note - during one of the night flight training flights in the Hellcats, a bright fireball appeared in the direction of Kingsville - the Bearcat training field. It was a mid-air between the two who had been buddies for so long.

So, what does this have to do with Bearcats? While stationed at Quonset Point, R.I., two Bearcats were made available for proficiency flights to the field operations pilots to get their mandatory 4 hours per month. They were rarely flown. Beg, plead, bargain, entertain, anything that worked and some that didn't. What worked was, ahem!, a little off the routine, but I agreed to take the wife of one of the station pilots for a ride in an AD-5 (became the AF A-1E). It was done- She was dressed in a standard flight suit, wore a helmet and when I taxied the bird behind a hangar, out of the view of the tower or my home base, Ms. X was in the right seat and away we went. The flight was a great success and soon I was completing the writtens and blind fold check to fly the Bearcat. While at Quonset, I flew 11 bartered hours in that marvelous bird - and what a wonder it was compared to the Hellcats I had trained on!!

The Sheepdog said all that.

How I became a Navy Pilot

2010-04-05T16:02:00.003-05:00

The fourteenth Hour

Three cents - a handful of ju ju bees, three sticks of liqorice gum or a postage stamp. As I licked the stamp, visions of it's promise "Learn to Fly by Mail" excited my thoughts. Someday !!
Daily trips to the post office were my task and, if my mother wondered why I seemed more eager to run that errand, her workload soon eraced that thought from her mind. Books secretly hidden in the barn before the mail was brought into the house drew me too often: their words and pictures burned into my memory - but - bills followed and demanded attention. Old world no-nonsense and real world depression packed up my treasures and committed them again to the post office. Gone !
"You'll just have to learn to do with what you have and to do without that which you do not and cannot have," were the words with which my monther tried to console me when, in the depths of the Great Depression, my hot tears fell in the dust of our poverty. Pride kept us from "going on Relief" and a single pork chop was divided; half to my father and the remaining half cut into three for the children.
But I had dreamed ! I had tasted ! I had reached for the sky and, inspite of hand-me-down clothes from our church, the sky was still above me, still calling. I could see and I could hear ! And the sounds I heard roared out of the clouds of war that filled the sky with Lightnings, Wildcats, Thunderbolts, Hellcats. Thunder rolled in their engines and lightning flashed in their tracers as they straffed and bombed targets on the restricted areas of Fire Island.
At the beckoning of a guard, I climbed over the chain link fence surrounding MacArthur Army Air Field. Up on the wing, into the cockpit of "The Jug" and I was king - no - slave; an immediate slave to the smell, the feel, the knobs, the dials, the - - - sudden, forceful, crude yank from the cockpit and tossed over the fence.
The War ended. I was too late - too late to avenge Colin Kelly, too late to scorn flak, too late to watch tracers follow rounds into Jerry's machine. But not too late to see a "Learn to Fly" sign appear in the pasture of Broadway Dairy - only a few miles from home. Stolen days, a hard pedaled bicycle trip, and a borrowed plow horse to clear stumps for runway-to-be were eagerly traded for a fifteen minute flight lesson. "Push on the Rudder." "dear God, which one? and how hard? Look ! I'm flying."
"Aww, the thrill is gone" my brothersaid, "You push the throttle forward and go, no big thing." He had 14 hours, had soloed, had flown cross country, all 32 miles to Riverhead and back. NO! Thrill, you cannot fade ! You must not fade ! I had but 2.5 hours, had yet to solo and a deep fear gripped me - this incredible love cannot end at fourteen hours ! School ended the summer and with it, no more time to earn money, none saved to spend on flying.
"I do." And before I knew what I had done, I was on my way to the Great Lakes Naval Training Center. Boot camp, Basic Battery tests, GCT, ARI, Mech, and Cler. "Why don't you apply for the Aviation Cadet Program?" Glenview Naval Air Station: F8F Bearcats on the line. Aptitude tests, spatial relationship tests, coordination tests, physical tests - and back to Electronics Technicians School.
Upon graduation, a new assignment - the USS Rehoboth, AGS 50, a former seaplane tender, now a geodetic survey ship. Deployment to the North Atlantic, Iceland, Europe and return to roll a motorcycle into a stay at the St Albans Naval Hospital. Finally back aboard the "ReBob," I was awakened shortly after midnight by the ship's radio man. Orders had just come in. Pensacola ! the NavCad Program ! Basic. Advanced.
In the cockpit of a Hellcat at 9 a.m. on a Sunday morning over Aransas Pass, Texas, the light bulb came on ! I was in LOVE !!! My beloved had wings and in rolls, snaps, high positive and negative G's we consummated our marriage. Hellcats, Skyraiders, Corsairs, Stoofs, Panthers, Cougars, Tinker Toys, G-suits, pressure masks, torso harnesses, helmets, tail hooks, and cat shots. A 21 year marriage that began with Korea and intensified in Vietnam, became only more elusive as it too soon dodged behind paper bound desks. The desks had to go.
She's changed her tailors from Douglas, Chance Vought, Grumman, and North American to Cessna, Beech, Piper, Sweringen and Dassault: her dress from armor plate to alclad. G-suits to business suits. She's become only more beautiful. The thrill is ever new.
The fourteenth hour has never arrived.

How I Began My Military Career-Gary H.

2010-04-04T14:20:00.000-05:00

Well, looking back on it, I guess I "began" my military career as a kid -- growing up on John Wayne war movies and the like. Closer to reality, I started my career as an Army ROTC cadet in college.

Why Army? -- Largely because the Army program (of the three programs at my college back then) offered training in which I was interested: military mountaineering (rock climbing and rappelling); ski training (both downhill and cross country); marksmanship.

I joined the ROTC program as a freshman, and earned my first stripes as a cadet sergeant after a year. Over the four years, I became a cadet SFC -- and senior year, a cadet major -- which was one of the most senior ranks in the program.

OK, so from an Active Component perspective, being a cadet major isn't much -- but recall that I spent about half my active duty career as a Major -- it took me ten years to return to the grade I'd held as a cadet! (Sounds like history repeating itself.)

I graduated with a bachelor's degree and a commission at a 2LT, Infantry.

After two years of graduate school, I reported to Infantry Officers Basic at Fort Benning -- and stayed there for Airborne training.

Once completed, my first duty station -- and the "real" start of my military career -- was Fort Bragg and the JFK Special Warfare Center where I joined the 15th Psychological Operations Battalion -- but that's another story.

A Place Called My Phuoc Tay

2010-04-03T05:15:00.000-05:00

Posted for Jim M.

This piece begins with extracts of letters that I wrote home from Vietnam, and continues with my recollections over 30 years later.

7 April 1970

Here we are, right in the middle of beautiful Nowhere. When I say nowhere, I mean it. We are about 30 kilometers due north of Vinh Long in one of those places where the only access is by helicopter or boat. Our CP is in a bombed out village that once was quite a place, but that now looks like something out of a World War II movie.

This place is a testimony to the turbulence which existed in VN politics after the Diem government was toppled. This was one of a series of “Agrivilles” build by Diem. These were planned agricultural and market complexes that were placed at different places all over the country. During the series of coups beginning in ’63, GVN could no longer maintain troops here and this one was abandoned. The people moved out, VC moved in, and the place was pretty well shot up in the subsequent seesaw battles. A few months ago, GVN moved back in strength for the first time since ’65. They have some outposts around and the area is being farmed again, but the VC haven’t given up yet. We haven’t found any since we’ve been here, though.

11 April 1970

I started a letter yesterday by saying that it was starting out as a quiet day—nothing happening. I don’t think that I’ll make that mistake again. Right after the first paragraph, things got a bit busier and didn’t let up until about midnight. A couple of our battalions made contact with several companies of VC and the resulting activity kept us going for a while. Everything worked out all right, but was hectic for a while.

13 April 1970

The past three days have been somewhat hectic. I think that I told you that we finally made contact with a VC/NVA unit after days of beating the paddies with no results. A couple of our battalions fought a hard battle with them on Friday, the VC broke contact late at night, and then we found them again on Saturday. We took a number of casualties, but prisoners, documents, etc, now indicate that we had met the 261A VC BN and dealt them a severe blow. The troops found a number of bodies and equipment, and captured the battalion colors. Indications are that many were killed, including the BN C.O., and X.O., and that the battalion is no longer an effective fighting force. This was an especially important victory since this battalion had recently attacked one of the VN firebases and really wreaked havoc.

May 8, 2007

These comments should serve to fill in some gaps in my earlier remarks about the events of 10 April 1970 near the garden spot of My Phuoc Tay. I was in the air over the fight, and, as I said in the letter of the 11^th, it was hectic for a while. My problems were nothing like those of the people on the ground, however.

My boss, who I shall only refer to as Col O, had started off the day flying backseat in the command and control ship that inserted at least one of the battalions of the two that were in the fight. He and I normally swapped off every day unless we received an air cavalry package. Col O had decided that I should fly those since I was armor. Coincidentally, that decision came right after he flew his first mission with them and found that their C&C ships routinely flew quite low.

Sometime in the afternoon, he landed and had me go up, pleading a splitting headache. I’m sure that was true, but it was never easy to pick up a mission in the middle. Fortunately, I had been following the action on the radio, and was pretty well up to speed. As the day progressed, we started getting more and more air support. Just before dark we had a dual problem—we had almost more support than we could use and the VNAF pilot in the front seat of the C&C that I was in was insisting that he had to leave.

The latter problem with the pilot stemmed from the fact that VNAF UH1 pilots were generally cleared for only VFR, i.e., no night flying. I’m not sure how we did it, but my counterpart, LTC Chinn, the regimental commander, and I managed to badger him into continuing to fly well after dark.

The problem with the support was that it all arrived at once. At one time, we had a USAF Forward Air Controller with several sorties of fast movers, a VNAF Spooky gunship (AC-47), a USAF Shadow gunship (AC-119), and a flight of USN Black Ponies (OV-10A Bronco). In addition to that bunch, there were the normal Cobra gunships supporting the lift, and field artillery support from the ARVN.

An immediate problem with all of that stuff flying was the control of airspace, and making sure that everyone understood where the friendly troops were on the ground. As darkness fell, both problems were exacerbated. All of the air guys were on my FM radio frequency, so I made a general announcement that I was the guy in charge in the air, and the American advisor (Captain Bob Redman) was in charge on the ground. In the event of conflict, his instructions were trump.

To sort out airspace, I designated a fire that was burning on the ground and said to all that the fire represented the center of a clock. I then assigned quadrants of the clock to the primary actors, telling them to go out about 10 kilometers and loiter until I called them in. Once they got out there, I asked for a report of who had the least time remaining on station, and called them in first. Once they had expended their ordnance, the next group went in, and so on. The trickiest part of this kind of an action is to make sure that you don’t hit your own troops, and calls for close coordination between the folks on the ground and those in the air. Transmissions have to be clear and precise, with all parties concerned agreeing on where the fire is to be placed.

I had a problem in this regard with the Navy OV-10s. The quality of their support was, as was customary, super, but getting agreement on the target location was daunting. The OV-10A was an absolutely superb aircraft for close support of ground troops. They could fly slow enough and long enough that they had no need for a FAC as the fast movers did.

The target identification procedure that we used in this case was for me to give them a location, and one plane would attack the spot with 7.62 mm machine gun tracers. Once all concerned agreed on the location, they attacked with their 20 mm guns and 5 inch rockets. They could indeed do a job on a ground target, and we always loved to have them flying for us.

The problem this night was that every time the Black Pony attacked, my VNAF pilot would bank. They made at least 2 runs that I couldn’t observe. Finally, I told them that I would be off the air while they made another run. Because the cord was so short, I had to disconnect from the radio in order to hang over the edge of the Huey to watch where they fired. That was no mean feat for someone who dislikes heights as much as I do. Using this unconventional technique, I was able to observe, and then get back on the radio to clear them for attack.

As I recall, the rest of the attacks from the air went well. One of the real potent weapons types in that area with little air defense was the Spooky/Shadow gunships. These were transport planes with 6,000 round-per-minute miniguns mounted, and with a capability to drop flares for illumination. They could stay on station for hours.

I have already said in my quote from my letters that we carried the day, but, of course, it was not without cost. Captain Bob Redman, whom I mentioned above, was wounded during the course of the fight, along with quite a few ARVN infantrymen. Because of the heavy fire and the terrain, we were unable to get a medevac helicopter in to pull out the wounded. The division senior advisor radioed Bob to tell him that he would come in with his C&C ship and pull him out. Bob refused, unless they could also evacuate the VN wounded. For this and other reasons, I submitted Bob for a Silver Star, the only time I did that in a year. (Awards for valor were hard to come by in MACV, at least in IV Corps.) Thirty plus years later I made contact with him and found out that he got the award. It was well earned, and I am glad to finally close that loop.

How I Began My Military Career--Sam S.

2010-04-02T18:20:00.000-05:00

Never say never. Walk by faith, not by sight.

If Moses could handle his most difficult assignment at age 80, Caleb at 85, and those stepping out in faith in Hebrews Chapter 11, I never say never.

Serving as a pastor and chaplain for 40 years, I never say never.

Serving 35 years in the Army, and 10 years with the VA, I never say never.

Being blessed with a wonderful marriage for 42 years, with five children, I never say never.

It is no secret what God can do when you step out in faith!

By the way, still waiting for a call from the Marines. Apparently the paper work hasn’t surfaced yet.

I wouldn’t trade it all for anything.

May our Heavenly Commander continue to bless and keep us all.

A Quote To Ponder

2010-03-30T18:43:00.000-05:00

(I came across this anonymous quote and thought it was altogether fitting to post here.)

A veteran is someone who, at one point in his/her life, wrote a blank check made payable to "The United States of America," for an amount of "up to and including my life."

How I Began My Military Career - Gary H.

2010-03-17T10:14:00.000-05:00

Well, looking back on it, I guess I "began" my military career as a kid -- growing up on John Wayne war movies and the like. Closer to reality, I started my career as an Army ROTC cadet in college.

"Why Army?" -- Largely because the Army program (of the three programs at my college back then) offered training in which I was interested: military mountaineering (rock climbing and rappelling); ski training (both downhill and cross country); marksmanship.

I graduated with a bachelor's degree and a commission at a 2LT, Infantry.

After two years of graduate school, I reported to Infantry Officers Basic at Fort Benning -- and stayed there for Airborne training.

How I Began My Military Career - John H.

2010-03-12T20:55:00.001-06:00

I have often thought about why I wanted to be an army officer from a very early age. My father was exempt from the draft in WWII because he worked n the oil fields of Louisiana and Texas as did his four brothers. None ever served in the war.

I was born in 1937, so was old enough during the war to know about it and be exposed to many service people. I had a neighbor whose husband was killed flying over “the Hump” in China. I remember well the day she received the news. When several of our neighbors returned from the war, I was given parts of uniforms and equipment.

The first book I ever remember reading was by Ernie Pyle. The first paperback book I ever bought “Twelve O’Clock High” about the 8^th Air Force in Europe. I have been primarily interested in military history all my life.

Anyway, I have wanted to be an army officer as long as I can remember. When it came to deciding where I would go to college, I never considered anything but a military school. I attended New Mexico Military Institute (Junior College) and then Texas Tech. My primary intent was to take ROTC and get a commission.

I did!

Hollywood Went To War

2010-03-08T18:01:00.000-06:00

The following is listing of some notable Hollywood stars who served during World War II. I thought the list was interesting and figured others might find it so also.

Don Adams
served with the United States Marine Corps during World War II in the Pacific Theater. He was wounded during the Battle of Guadalcanal and he contracted malaria, nearly dying of black water fever. Upon his recovery and return to the States, he served as a drill instructor.

John Agar
served in the Army Air Corps, and he was a sergeant at the time he left the army in 1946.

Eddie Albert
was awarded a Bronze Star for his heroic action as a U. S. Naval officer aiding Marines at the horrific battle on the island of Tarawa in the Pacific Nov. 1943.

James Arness
served in the United States Army during World War II, and was severely wounded at the Battle of Anzio, leading to a lifelong slight limp. His military awards and medals include: the Bronze Star; the Purple Heart; the European-African-Middle Eastern Campaign with three bronze star devices; World War II Victory Medal and the Combat Infantryman's Badge.

Earnest Borgnine
was a U. S. Navy Gunners Mate 1935-1945.

Charles Bronson
was a tail gunner in the Army Air Corps, specifically on B-29s in the 20th Air Force out of Guam,Tinian, and Saipan.

Richard Burton
served in the RAF (1944-1947) as a navigator.

Art Carney
was drafted as an infantryman during World War II. During the Battle of Normandy, he was wounded in the leg by shrapnel and walked with a limp for the rest of his life.

Robert Clary (Robert Max Widerman)
was captured and deported to the Nazi concentration camp, Buchenwald with 12 other members of his immediate family. Clary was the only survivor. When he returned to Paris after the war, he was ecstatic when he found that some of his siblings had not been taken away and survived the Nazi occupation of France.

Jackie Coogan
enlisted in the US Army in March 1941. After the attack on Pearl Harbor, he requested a transfer to US Army Air Forces as a glider pilot because of his civilian flying experience. After graduating from glider school, he was made a Flight Officer and he volunteered for hazardous duty with the 1st Air Commando Group. In December 1943, the unit was sent to India. He flew British troops, the Chindits, under General Orde Wingate on 5 March 1944, landing them at night in a small jungle clearing 100 miles behind Japanese lines in the Burma campaign.

Tony Curtis
joined US Navy in 1943 at age 17. In Tokyo Bay he watched the surrender ceremonies from the Signal Bridge of the USS Proteus.

James Doohan
landed in Normandy with the U. S. Army on D-Day.

Kirk Douglas
served in the U.S. Navy from the entry of the US into World War II in 1941 until it ended in 1945.

Charles Durning
was a U. S. Army Ranger at Normandy earning a Silver Star and awarded the Purple Heart.

Douglas Fairbanks Jr.
n 1941, President Franklin Delano Roosevelt appointed Fairbanks as a special envoy to South America. Fairbanks served with the U.S. Navy Beach Jumpers who saw their initial action in Operation Husky, the invasion of Sicily. Throughout the remainder of the war, the Beach Jumpers conducted their hazardous, shallow-water operations throughout the Mediterranean.
For his planning the diversion-deception operations and his part in the amphibious assault on Southern France, Lieutenant Commander Fairbanks was awarded the U.S. Navy's Legion of Merit with bronze V (for valor), the Italian War Cross for Military Valor, the French Legion d'Honneur and the Croix de Guerre with Palm, and the British Distinguished Service Cross. Fairbanks was also awarded the Silver Star for valor displayed while serving on PT boats.
He was made an Honorary Knight Commander of the British Empire (KBE) in 1949. It is not a stretch to say that Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. was the father of the United States Navy's Information Operations. As for the Beach Jumpers, they changed names several times in the decades following World War II, expanded their focus, and are currently known as the Navy Information Operations Command. Fairbanks stayed in the Naval Reserve after the war and ultimately retired a captain in 1954.
Many of the Navy's most important information operations since World War II remain classified, but it is clear that the U.S. military retains its interest in this art of war.

Henry Fonda
enlisted in the Navy to fight in World War II, saying, "I don't want to be in a fake war in a studio." Previously, he and Stewart had helped raise funds for the defense of Britain. Fonda served for three years, initially as a Quartermaster 3rd Class on the destroyer USS Satterlee. He was later commissioned as a Lieutenant Junior Grade in Air Combat Intelligence in the Central Pacific and won a Presidential Citation and the Bronze Star.

Glenn Ford
His film career was interrupted when he volunteered for duty in World War II with the U.S. Marine Corps Reserve on 13 December as a photographic specialist at the rank of sergeant. He was assigned in March 1943 to active duty at the Marine Corps Base in San Diego. He was sent to Marine Corps Schools Detachment (Photographic Section) in Quantico, Virginia, that June, with orders as a motion-picture production technician. Sergeant Ford returned to the San Diego base in February 1944 and was assigned next to the radio section of the Public Relations Office, Headquarters Company, Base Headquarters Battalion. There he staged and broadcast the radio program Halls of Montezuma. Glenn Ford was honorably discharged from the Marines on 7 December 1944.

Clark Gable
Mega-Movie Star when war broke out. Although he was beyond the draft age at the time the U.S. entered WW II, Clark Gable enlisted as a private in the AAF on Aug. 12, 1942 at Los Angeles. He attended the Officers' Candidate School at Miami Beach, Fla. and graduated as a second lieutenant on Oct. 28, 1942. He then attended aerial gunnery school and in Feb. 1943 he was assigned to the 351st Bomb Group at Polebrook where flew operational missions over Europe in B-17s. Capt. Gable returned to the U.S. in Oct. 1943 and was relieved from active duty as a major on Jun. 12, 1944 at his own request, since he was over-age for combat.

Shecky Greene
served in the US Navy.

Alec Guinness
operated a British Royal Navy landing craft on D-Day.

Charlton Heston
In 1944, left college and enlisted in the United States Army Air Corps. He served for two years as a B-25 radio operator/gunner stationed in the Alaskan Aleutian Islands with the Eleventh Air Force, rising to the rank of Staff Sergeant.

William Holden
served in the Army Air Corps during World War II, where he acted in training films.

Russell Johnson
joined the United States Army Air Forces in World War II. He had a very distinguished record and was highly decorated for his service. He flew 44 combat missions as a gunner in B-24 Liberator bombers, receiving a Purple Heart for injuries sustained when his plane was shot down over the Philippines. When the war ended, he joined the Army Reserves and used the GI Bill to fund his acting studies.

Brian Keith
served as a U.S. Marine rear gunner in several actions against the Japanese on Rabal in the Pacific.

George Kennedy
Kennedy put aside show business during World War II and spent sixteen years in the United States Army, seeing combat and working in the Armed Forces radio. After retiring from the military (reportedly because of a back injury), Kennedy found his way back to the entertainment industry.

Werner Klemperer
joined the United States Army to fight in World War II. While stationed in Hawaii, he joined the Army's Special Services unit, spending the next few years touring the Pacific entertaining the troops.

Jack Lemmon
joined the Navy, received V-12 training and served as an ensign in the US Navy Reserve from 1945-1946.

Strother Martin
served in the US Navy as a Swimming instructor.

Lee Marvin
was a U.S. Marine on Saipan during the Marianas campaign when he was wounded earning the Purple Heart.

Walter Matthau
During World War II served in the U.S. Army Air Forces with the Eighth Air Force in England as a B-24 Liberator radioman-gunner, in the same bomb group as Jimmy Stewart. He reached the rank of Staff Sergeant and became interested in acting.

Robert Montgomery
joined the Navy, rising to the rank of Lieutenant Commander.

Audie Murphy
little 5'5" tall 110 pound guy from Texas who played cowboy parts! He was the most Decorated serviceman of WWII and earned: Medal of Honor, Distinguished Service Cross, 2 Silver Star Medals, Legion of Merit, 2 Bronze Star Medals with "V", 2 Purple hearts, U.S. Army Outstanding Civilian Service Medal, Good Conduct Medal, 2 Distinguished Unit Emblems, American Campaign Medal, European-African-Middle Eastern Campaign Medal with One Silver Star, Four Bronze Service Stars (representing nine campaigns) and one Bronze Arrowhead (representing assault landing at Sicily and Southern France) World War II Victory Medal Army of Occupation Medal with Germany Clasp, Armed Forces Reserve Medal, Combat Infantry Badge, Marksman Badge with Rifle Bar, Expert Badge with Bayonet Bar, French Fourragere in Colors of the Croix de Guerre, French Legion of Honor, Grade of Chevalier, French Croix de Guerre With Silver Star, French Croix de Guerre with Palm, Medal of Liberated France, Belgian Croix de Guerre 1940 Palm.

David Niven
was a Sandhurst graduate and Lt. Colonel of the British Commandos in Normandy.

Jack Palance
Palance's rugged face was disfigured when he bailed out of his burning B-24 Liberator while on a training flight over southern Arizona, where he was a student pilot. Plastic surgeons repaired the damage as best they could, but he was left with a distinctive, somewhat gaunt, look. After much reconstructive surgery, he was discharged in 1944.

Donald Pleasance
really was an R. A. F. pilot who was shot down, held prisoner and tortured by the Germans.

Tyrone Power
arrived at Marine Corps Air Station Cherry Point, North Carolina in July, 1944 and was assigned to VMR-352 as an R5C copilot. The squadron moved to Marine Corps Air Station El Toro in California in October 1944. Power was reassigned to VMR-353 and joined them on Kwajalein in February 1945. He flew cargo and wounded Marines during the Battle of Iwo Jima and the Battle of Okinawa. He returned to the United States in November 1945 and he was released from active duty in January 1946. He was promoted to Captain in the reserves on May 8, 1951 but was not recalled for service for the Korean War.

John Russell
In 1942, he enlisted in the Marine Corps where he received a battlefield commission and was wounded and highly decorated for valor at Guadalcanal.

Robert Ryan
was a U. S. Marine who served with the O.S.S. in Yugoslavia. For two years worked as a Marine corps drill instructor at Camp Pendleton.

George C. Scott was a decorated U. S. Marine.

Robert Stack
Joined Air Force and became a PB4Y Gunnery Instructor.

James Stewart
Entered the Army Air Force as a private and worked his way to the rank of Colonel. During World War II, Stewart served as a bomber pilot, his service record crediting him with leading more than 20 missions over Germany, and taking part in hundreds of air strikes during his tour of duty. Stewart earned the Air Medal, the Distinguished Flying Cross, France's Croix de Guerre, and 7 Battle Stars during World War II. In peace time, Stewart continued to be an active member of the Air Force as a reservist, reaching the rank of Brigadier General before retiring in the late 1950s.

How I Began My Military My Career - Jack K.

2010-03-06T10:40:00.004-06:00

The year was 1954. We lived in Lancaster, PA where my step-father was stationed. He made the army his career. My father also served in the army. We moved to Lancaster in the middle of my senior year of high school. It was a much larger school than the previous one.

During that time I was friends with a young man who was no longer in school. This young man was having a difficult time making ends meet. If it weren’t for what we then called his “Arkansas credit card”, he wouldn’t have enough gas for his car. I tried to talk him out of siphoning gas, but to no avail. Unfortunately I was with him once when he did it. A high school student who was mad at me told the police about it. The police came to school and whisked me away to the county jail where I spent the night. My mom and step-dad decided that it might do me some good.

The next day my step-dad bailed me out and we appeared before the magistrate. At that time joining the military was a reasonable option for young men who found themselves in legal difficulties. Since I was very close to graduating and had no other job prospects it was an easy decision. On June 15, 1954, I enlisted in the US Air Force. I spent four years in the air force and achieved the rank of SSGT E-5 prior to ending my enlistment.

With the availability of the Korean GI Bill I was able to go to college. While attending Arizona State University, I enrolled in Army ROTC. I was commissioned at the completion of summer camp. The Military Police Corps was my first choice for branch assignment. The first orders I received were to attend the officer basic course, go to a duty assignment for six months of active duty and spend the remaining duty requirement in the active reserves. It is funny, now, how things can change so suddenly. While I waited the month from the end of summer camp to reporting for training, those damned fools built the Berlin wall. It didn’t take long for me to receive a telegram extending my orders from six months to two years.

Well that was a start. Somewhere along the way I changed my status to voluntary indefinite. Between tours to Viet Nam I then decided to go Regular Army. I stayed with it until I had accrued 22.5 years of active Federal service and then retired.

There just may be a few more stories to share. Stay tuned

U.S. Marines' Bumper Stickers

2010-01-09T10:06:00.000-06:00

(I cannot take credit for the following, but I thought they'd be a nice fit here.)

"Except For Ending Slavery, Fascism, Nazism, and Communism, War Has Never Solved Anything”
“U.S. Marines -- Certified Counselors to the 72 Virgins Dating Club"
“Water-boarding is out so kill them all!"
"Interrogators can't water board dead guys"
“U.S. Marines -- Travel Agents To Allah"
"Stop Global Whining"
"When In Doubt, Empty The Magazine" Naval Corollary; Dead men don't testify.
"The Marine Corps -- When It Absolutely, Positively Has To Be Destroyed Overnight"
"Death Smiles At Everyone -- Marines Smile Back"
"Marine Sniper - You can run, but you'll just die tired!"
"What Do I Feel When I Kill A Terrorist?...A little Recoil"
"Marines -- Providing Enemies of America an Opportunity To Die For their Country Since 1775"
"Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Anyone Who Threatens It"
"Happiness Is A Belt-Fed Weapon"
"It's God's Job to Forgive Bin Laden -- It's Our Job To Arrange The Meeting"
"Artillery Brings Dignity to What Would Otherwise Be Just A Brawl"
"One Shot, Twelve Kills -- US Navy Gun Fire Support"
"Do draft dodgers Have Reunions? If So, What Do They Talk About?"
"My kid fought in Iraq so your kid can party in college"
"Machine Gunners -- Accuracy by Volume"
"A Dead Enemy Is A Peaceful Enemy -- Blessed Be The Peacemakers"
"If You Can Read, Thank A Teacher. If You Can Read It In English, Thank A Veteran"
"Some people spend an entire lifetime wondering if they made a difference in the world. But, the Marines don't have that problem." - Ronald Reagan
"Victory is having a beer in the enemy's O Club." Gen Norman Schwarzkopf

Thanksgiving: The Eyes of a Survivor

2009-11-21T17:57:00.007-06:00

"When a great ship cuts through the sea, the waters are always stirred and troubled. And our ship is moving--moving through troubled waters, toward new and better shores."
-Lyndon B. Johnson

While not about Thanksgiving Day, this story embodies the spirit of thanksgiving and is befitting the decorum of this site. It's the story of a survivor thankful to be alive so that he can give to others. I'm thankful that he chose to share his story with me.

In 1993, I was working as a security guard at the Shriner's Burn Institute in Boston. I don't think I need to elaborate about the wonderful work the Shriners do providing medical care for children, especially those who have been severely burned. Their work is well documented, as well as are the miracles performed at their burn hospitals across the country.

Thanksgiving Day of 1993 was the only Thanksgiving on which I ever had to report to work. My holiday wasn't ruined however, as I was able to partake of a turkey dinner with the fixings from the cafeteria, and was able to join my family later for desserts at home.

After making my rounds, I sat down to eat my Thanksgiving meal during the last half hour before the cafeteria would close. I was joined by one of the Shriners who had just arrived at the hospital.

(It should be noted that the Shriners volunteer their time at the hospitals to make themselves available to help the staff. They might be asked to drive parents of the patients to and from housing provided by the hospital, for example.)

We wished each other a happy Thanksgiving and chatted a bit. He noticed the U.S. flag and Navy anchor badges on my jacket, which were still there after I had donned them for Veterans Day.

"So, you were in the Navy too. When and where did you serve?" he asked.

After I answered I said to him in return, "And you must have served during WWII. On a ship or land-based?"

He grew quiet and didn't answer for a few minutes. I thought I must have struck a nerve and that he didn't like to talk about his war experiences. (My dad was like that.)

He said that it was difficult for him to talk about. He said he sometimes had nightmares from his experience, even though (at the time) it had been 48 years before. Then he smiled and said that ever since he'd been dedicating Thanksgiving Day to help others.

He had served on a cruiser, CA-35, (pictured) for most of the war in the Pacific. Then in July of 1945, they were given a top-secret mission, a mission so clandestine that only a handful of high-ranking officials in Washington and high-ranking officers in the Pacific theater were privileged to know about it.

I gasped in fascination. I didn't recognize the hull number of his ship, but before he mentioned her by name I knew he was talking about the U.S.S. Indianapolis!

Even though he was an Ensign assigned to the communications shack he was not included among those who knew what secret cargo she was transporting to the air base at Tinian. From the moment she'd set sail she'd been on complete radio silence, with orders not to break that silence under any circumstances.

On July 26, 1945, the U.S.S. Indianapolis had delivered to Tinian the component parts including the uranium projectile which would be used to assemble Little Boy, the first of the only two atomic bombs to ever be used in anger on mankind.

I saw tears in the eyes of a survivor. He was unable to talk in detail of what happened four days later on July 30, 1945. At 0014 hours, two torpedoes from a Japanese submarine slammed into her. It took only 12 minutes for her to sink, taking 300 of her crew of 1,196 to the bottom of the sea.

Even though he would say nothing of the crew's ordeal over the next four days, I understood. It has been well documented in books and on film of how 896 sailors faced exposure, dehydration and shark attacks. Of those 896, only 317 of the sailors survived to be rescued from the sea. He was one of them.

It would be eleven days after they'd off-loaded the cargo at Tinian before he or any of the surviving crew would learn of the details of their mission. On August 6, 1945, a B-29 Super Fortress, the Enola Gay, let loose the bomb that obliterated Hiroshima, Japan.

So top secret was the mission of the U.S.S. Indianapolis, that she wasn't even reported overdue or missing. It was only by accident, four days after she'd been sunk that a PBY Catalina on patrol spotted the small clusters of men adrift in the sea.

Yes, I could understand why he didn't want to talk about those four days he and his fellow survivors endured. I don't believe I would be able to do so either.

He wiped a tear from his eye with his napkin and ended his story with these touching words:

"I'm thankful to have survived and ever since I've dedicated my life to giving of myself to others more needy than I."

I promised, at his request, that if ever I repeated his story, I would not reveal his name. He wished this to honor those who didn't make it.

This I learned from the eyes of a survivor: That Thanksgiving is made up of two words. May we all give thanks even while giving.

Medals

2009-11-11T00:04:00.002-06:00

From one veteran to all other veterans, I salute you with a bit of humor.

Refueling At Sea

2009-08-15T10:04:00.022-05:00

Unless one has actually witnessed the process, it isn't easy to describe the operation of refueling at sea. It is a carefully choreographed exercise between the crews of two ships. Obviously, maintaining matching course headings and speed are of the utmost importance. The three photos below were taken by myself during one such operation. The first picture at the left shows my ship approaching a refueling tanker. In the middle, the fueling nozzle (referred to as the "donkey dick" by sailors) can be seen at about the halfway point between the two ships. In the third image the the nozzle has been secured to the refueling station and pumping by the oiler is underway. To begin the process, lines are passed between the deck hands of the two ships. Usually a smaller line was fired by gun by a Gunners Mate onto the deck of the other. This line was attached to exceedingly larger lines until a large rope (hawser)attached to the refueling hose itself would be pulled to the receiving ship. (Not pictured) a long line of upwards to fifty or more crewman would be on deck on the opposite side of the ship manning the rope, literally pulling it across the expanse of churning water between the two vessels. Depending on the conditions of the sea the exercise could be a daunting and backbreaking tug of war for the men on the ropes. Meanwhile, a petty officer, usually a chief, would be somewhere above shouting to the men to keep them pulling. I don't know if the operation of refueling at sea has been changed or has been improved in the modern Navy, but this was the way it was done in my day.

On January 22, 1971, I wrote the following description of refueling at sea in the form of a poem. It was inspired by such an event in the midst of a sudden storm. While the rhyming lines may be light in nature, the actual event was anything but.

Coming of the Tempest's Rage

Heave ho! Heave ho!
Put your backs into it!
You can rest when we sit!
Heave ho! Heave ho!

The ship had set sail near to a week ere,
And it seemed she was a burning air;
The crew all knew we needed the oil,
Lest we sit dead, we needed to toil.

The sea, she was in a bad mood,
And she took our efforts as rude;
For she slapped hard at our craft
Showing no mercy forward or aft.

But our diligence kept us in pace,
For not fuel-less would the sea we face.
Inch by long inch the hawser creeped,
Inch by inch the perspiration seeped.

Heave ho! Heave ho!
Put your backs into it!
You can rest when we sit!
Heave ho! heave ho!

I, at line's end kept the rope from fouling,
While those ahead continued their pulling.
My muscles weren't as strained as much,
But I too was weary from the rope's touch.

Intermittently, the fingers of Lady Ocean
Grasped at the men with angered emotion;
And they cursed under their breath
As they were drenched salty and wet.

I, however, received only a salty spray
That the maritime breeze blew my way.
Above all the groans roared that voice,
One that irritates, the kind that annoys:

Heave ho! Heave ho!
Put your backs into it!
You can rest when we sit!
Heave ho! Heave ho!

Why don't you put your balmy hand
By ours and pull from where we stand?
For if you don't appreciate our health,
Damn you, come and do it, mate, yourself!

Alas, the overseer stood fast upon his perch,
Cried again, "Heave ho, or on you I'll lurch!"
And the angriest tempers in the men arose,
Their strength increased despite their woes.

Ever so slowly the rope-drawn fuel line
Crept across the churning ocean brine;
The white-capped arms kept lashing out
But the ocean's roar couldn't still his shout:

Heave ho! Heave ho!
Put your backs into it!
You can rest when we sit!
Heave ho! Heave ho!

I could almost feel the mens' strength
Though the line was stretched at length;
Somehow, I felt the surging of their power
Flowing like water into a blooming flower.

But it all seemed of so little use to me,
It all appeared nothing but abuse to me.
What need would I have of all that brawn
When the others kept the line tight-drawn?

I peered for a moment at the tug of war,
Wondering what on earth I was there for!
For even the weakest of those men up there
Would compare to me in a manner unfair.

Heave ho! Heave ho!
Put your backs into it!
You can rest when we sit!
Heave ho! Heave ho!

It was then that all hell broke loose,
And it threatened an end to our cruise!
Lady Ocean, she seemed to leap skyward,
And the men, their screams were heard!

Below, Neptune must've been wearing a grin
As a great wall of sea swept down upon the men.
I don't really remember all that occurred
Or even what sounds I thought I had heard.

I felt myself being swept off of my feet
And dragged aft with the water's retreat,
Only to finally stop at the unmanned line
In a torrent of the draining salted brine.

Heave ho! Heave ho!
Put your backs into it!
You can rest when we sit!
Heave ho! Heave ho!

I know I heard him as I lie there prone,
But I somehow felt that I heard it alone;
At first there was a terror unrestrained
That it was only I who still remained.

But unto my ears were moans from beyond;
The rope tightened as one we did respond.
The men, although stunned were much alive,
Somehow all of us had managed to survive.

Some of us hurt, glad to be among the living,
Cursed at the ocean for being so unforgiving.
Life was something for us to keep and love
And was heard by us a voice from up above:

Heave ho! Heave ho!
Put your backs into it!
You can rest when we sit!
Heave ho! Heave ho!
And
Sit
We
Did!

The Letter

2009-07-18T20:13:00.009-05:00

It must have been the summer of 1969 when I found myself standing alone upon the fantail of the Destroyer that had been my home for the past eleven months. The U.S.S. Warrington (DD-843), a re-fitted WWII Gearing-Class "Tin Can" was one of the steamingest ships in the Atlantic Fleet at the time.

We were somewhere in the middle of the Mediterranean, a single vessel visible upon the vast sea. Our churning wake disappearing behind us was the only indicator as to from where we'd come. The bow slicing through the waters offered no evidence as to our destination, but the pair of dolphins riding the waves it thrust aside did not seem to mind.

Call it the horizon if you will, but there is something forbidding about a straight line stretching 360 degrees around you comprised of only sky and water. There is a sense that you are surely looking at the distant rim of the world's edge. Was it any wonder that ancient sailors thought they would surely sail over the precipice to their deaths and into oblivion ?

My silent vigil was not borne of the fear of the unknown or what lie beyond the horizon. I was not concerned with the unknown beyond that point where the stars in the heavens met and merged with their reflections upon the smooth surface of the sea. I was more attuned to the world that I knew was in existence beyond that barrier.

Somewhere, a half a world away in a hostile eastern land there was a horizon much different than that which I contemplated. How might he have looked upon his horizon? Had he lie awake in silent reverie trying to see beyond his? Had the same stars decorated the firmament before his eyes?

The spray of the salty mist in my face could not divert my gaze from the featureless line that separated sea and sky. I turned to face what I thought must have been the west to gaze in the direction of that land we had called home. Choking back tears of private remorse wrought by the crumpled envelope in my hand - I saluted him.

Franklin D. Ashley, Jr., was both my first cousin and best friend. We were the same age and had grown up to young manhood together. He lived on a sprawling farm, while I lived in a small town ten miles away. Thanks to visits every weekend and stays at my grandparents' home on their neighboring farm during the summer, we were seldom apart during our informative years and early teens.

FD, as he was called , and myself played and frolicked on the farm, up in the surrounding hills and woods and down by the ponds and streams in a seemingly endless slate of adventures and misadventures for several years. The memory of some of those adventures had been lost with the passage of time, but others had become a legacy to the innocence of our youth.

As long as I live, I shall never forget those days when a girl our age would show up at one the ponds while we would be skinny-dipping. She lived on her parents homestead about two miles down the hillside below. She would jump in the water even as we scurried to get into our underwear. (In time, we would see her climbing the hill and would purposely wait until she was pond side before we would dash for our underwear.)

Judy, I'll call her, was heavily blessed with bosom even at the age of twelve. Although she would keep her blouse on when she joined us in the water, FD and I had a game trying to see who would be the first to tug at her blouse until her bare breasts were exposed. She knew the game, and played along. Once one of us had succeeded with our goal, she would leave them exposed and made no attempt to hide them until she was ready to go home.

Judy had a game of her own as we learned one day. Although FD and I tried to stay submerged below the waist, she was well aware of the projections behind the fronts of our shorts. Offering her breasts as bait before our eyes, she would grab at us below the water. More times than not she would manage to dash from the pond with our respective pairs of underwear in her hands. I cannot honestly say that we'd put up much in the way of resistance.

In time, in order to keep our clothes clean and to spare the wrath of our parents, the three of us began to strip before hitting the water. Whether we were splashing in the water or simply lying next to each other on the bank, our mutual nudity was shameless. The erections that FD and I often sported fascinated her and she would at times "inspect" them. I being circumcised and FD not, she was intrigued by our differences.

Of course, her differences were no less intriguing to us. Her large breasts not withstanding, the eventual advent of pubic hair soon drew our attention more and more "south of the border." By the time we were each 16 years old, we had all begun to sense those feelings and stirrings deep within us.

The water games never went beyond those playful acts of exposure. In time, the visits to the ponds came to an end. The three of us remained friends for years to come, well after the innocent days of skinny-dipping had passed.

Perhaps my fondest memory of FD, ironically as it seemed when I was standing beneath the stars, was when we played soldier and war games. Now our war games weren't like the typical war games the other kids played. Quite the contrary, our games included an actual live enemy with which we would engage in acts of combat.

Benny wasn't the best of adversaries, but he quite literally gave us a run for our money. Although trench warfare wasn't his favorite game he never backed away from the battles. He might have been faster and stronger than the two of us, but we always proved to be smarter.

We learned one day however, that Benny was not stupid! That was the day that our war games came to an end forever.

Our weapons of choice were hand-made slingshots. Our ammo usually consisted of un-husked horse chestnuts. After gathering our ammo we would sneak upon the unsuspecting Benny and let loose with a salvo of well-aimed chestnuts. Once under siege he would then turn and charge headlong after us.

We would run as fast as our feet could carry us with Benny nearly catching us. Then we would jump into a three-foot deep trench and watch as Benny would go sailing over the trench. About two feet lower in elevation and beyond our trench was a large perpetually wet mud hole. It was in that mud hole that the unfortunate Benny would splash into, usually up to his knees. It would take Benny a few minutes to get out of the mud, and by that time we would be long gone.

Then there was the day that Benny showed us just how smart he could be. It is here that I would be remiss not to note that Benny was FD's father's billy goat!

The chase was on with Benny hot on our heels. Benny did not take kindly to being shot with chestnuts. As we had done countless times before, FD and I dove into our trench and waited for Benny to pass over us into the mud hole. However, this day we did not see Benny leaping above us over the trench !

We waited in surprise. What happened to Benny? Surely he didn't give up! After several minutes, FD's curiosity got the better of him and he raised his head above the rim of the trench to see what had happened to our adversary.

Benny had proven to be much smarter than we'd ever given him credit. He had stopped short of the trench and was standing there waiting. At the very moment that FD's eyes cleared the edge of the trench, old Benny lunged forward and smacked my cousin with a powerful headbutt square in the forehead. Benny then waited by the trench for nearly an hour before he finally gave up and walked away out into the pasture.

FD would experience a massive headache and had to face a barrage of questions from his parents when they later inquired about the swollen lumps on his forehead.

Years later, in the height of the war in Vietnam we would both answer the call of Uncle Sam. I would enlist in the Navy and he would be drafted into the Army. There was a rumor going around that our old friend Judy was pregnant and that FD was the father of her baby. I never found out if it was or wasn't true.

One fateful day, somewhere in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea, I would open a letter informing me that FD had been killed in Vietnam. It was his last day over there and he'd only minutes earlier boarded a helicopter to be flown to an airbase to catch a flight back to the States. With all he'd seen and all he'd survived over there, it took but small arms fire from a band of guerrillas on the ground to end his life as well as the crew of the chopper.

I never got to talk to him about his horizons.

I dropped my salute. Gazing upon the western horizon, I placed a few coins into the envelope for weight and then I let the letter slip from my hands. I knew I would not be able to attend his funeral and I watched in silence as the envelope disappeared beneath the churning wake of the ship's propellers.

Symbolically I had buried FD that day beneath the waves and before the eyes of God.

Traffic Citation

2009-07-17T13:43:00.002-05:00

Thanks, Frank G.

Frank was the commander of a helicopter unit that supported the combat troops in Viet Nam. Among the helicopters in the unit were the Chinooks. They are the large banana shaped birds with rotors on both ends of the aircraft. They are used to transport troops, equipment and ammunition.

Now for the story:

Frank was in his office one day when a couple of MP's (Military Police) came in. They wanted to know who the pilot was of a Chinook flying over a specific site at a specific time. That probably wouldn't be too difficult to discern, if one had the time. Prior to expending the time and energy, Frank wanted to know what the story was.

The MP's said that a Chinook had blown over one of their 3/4 ton trucks with its rotor blast at that site and time. Because there was a "traffic" accident they had to issue a citation to the pilot for his part in it. Say what? Frank told them it would be nearly impossible to find the pilot. Since he was the commander, they should just issue the citation in his name and he would take care of it. The MP's did and left. The MP's hadn't cleared the are and Frank was in the air. He flew to the location of the Provost Marshal (PM) who had the responsibility for the area and the MP's.

He and the PM had a good working relationship. He asked Frank, "What was up?" Frank told him and asked him if he could fix it. The PM said no problem. It was news to him that a Chinook had such power. They both laughed heartily and agreed that there was no way such a thing could happen.

A few days later, Frank got a call from the PM. Apparently, the MP's had a vehicle accident through their own misdeeds and were trying to get out of trouble. The PM took appropriate action and Frank's dubious citation disappeared.

Memorial Day, 2009

2009-05-25T00:08:00.000-05:00

A Trusting Soul

2009-03-20T10:49:00.003-05:00

Thanks, Chaplain Sam.

Chaplain Sam's first duty assignment was the Chaplain at the stockade at Fort Leonard Wood. As a young Lieutenant he was filled with trust of his fellow man. After having served for about three months, he had been able to talk to each of the inmates. He decided it was time to have a discussion with the Commander of the stockade.

The Commander invited him in and asked what he wanted to discuss. Sam was greatly concerned about all of the inmates. To a man they had convinced Sam that they were innocent. To a man they convinced Sam that their Commander or First Sergeant were really the guilty party. The Stockade Commander did not roll his eyes or burst out laughing. The Commander suggested that Sam contact some of the "guilty" parties. Sam did just that. The gist of each conversation went something like this, "Did he tell you he had done this? Did he tell you he had done that? Did he tell you he had done the other thing?"

It didn't take long for the word to go out, tell the Chaplain the truth. He is going to check out your story.

Sam is glad that he had the Commander he had. It was one of his first valuable lessons as a brand new Army Chaplain.

He went on to become a first-rate Chaplain. Even in his retirement, he still serves soldiers.

A D-Day Story

2009-03-10T20:40:00.003-05:00

Bill T. is a member of the Old Bastards. He is one of the few who is a veteran of WWII. He tells this story with great humor. It is one he would tell when old Army buddies would get together at his home. He would wait until his late wife was in earshot.

There is some truth and maybe a little bit of a stretch.

He tells that he was dropped into France 10 days prior to D-Day. As a member of an advanced party he had a great number of duties. The one he tells that used to rile his wife was this one. One of his primary duties was to help the French women learn how to greet and treat the US soldiers. He did indicate that he showed them how.

Whenever his wife heard him tell it, she would throw something at him. I don't think he has any scars from it. It is funnier when he tells it.

Christmas 1971, Saigon, RVN.

2009-03-04T19:50:00.003-06:00

I was working as a Narcotic Staff Officer in the Provost Marshal’s office at MACV Headquarters in Saigon. There were about ten of us assigned to the office and that included Vietnamese clerical folks. In an effort to maintain some semblance of normalcy we agreed to enter into a Secret Santa gift swap.

It was a nice way to celebrate the season with our friends and compatriots. For the life of me, I cannot remember whose name I got or what I purchased for that person. I do know what someone got for me.

It is a simple hand carved wooden statuette made in Thailand. It represents Madonna and Child. I have no idea who thought that I would like such a gift. For that very reason, I treasure it. If memory serves me right, we had a very low dollar limit on such gifts, so it was the thought that counted. That, along with the simple beauty of the statuette and the season give added meaning for me. It has a place of honor in our bedroom.

The Trip To Oxford, MS-1965

2008-11-24T04:00:00.000-06:00

It was March 1965. The 720th MP Battalion was in the field at Fort Hood, TX. We were undergoing routine field training. One thing about the military police, when they go to the field for training, they end up doing their normal police duties too. The mission was going along quite well. We were securing convoys, manning traffic control points, providing security for important sites, and generally trying to keep from being miserable. Late in the day, early evening if my memory serves me right, we were ordered back to garrison to prepare for an early morning deployment. We were given a couple of hours to get whatever gear we needed from our homes, but we could not tell our families where we were going.

We had all been keeping up with the "outside world". It was the time of civil rights movement and many important things were happening. This was the time when James Meredith was enrolled at the University of Mississippi. Our job would be to provide personal security for him during his tenure there.

The battalion packed up and went to Killeen AFB to board military transports for the flight to Memphis. It is amazing how you can make bed out of packing crates in a 1/4 ton trailer. Upon landing at Memphis we received a briefing concerning our assignments. My platoon was going to be split up to establish road blocks at the major routes in and out of Oxford, Mississippi.

We boarded helicopters to be transported to our duty sites. We were all equipped with the appropriate "combat" gear for the time. We were issued the tear gas grenades that looked like baseballs. It was a common practice to hang them on our web gear by their pin rings. The reason being, that if you needed to deploy them in a hurry, you just had to yank on the grenade and it would come free of the pin. There is not much danger when doing this as long as the handle is held firmly. As soon as the handle is released the grenade will blow tear gas all over hell and back, or at least in a relatively large radius. And, it doesn't pay to be down wind of one without a gas mask.

I traveled with one of the squads that was led by an "old timer". He was a good NCO, and could be very funny. While in flight Sarge was trying to get comfortable and was adjusting his gear when his rifle sling pushed against one of his tear gas grenades separating it from its pin. He did not have the grenade in his hand and it came loose from the pin. All of the MPs on board had gas masks. The flight crew did not. A potentially dangerous situation. However, the helicopter banked the proper direction and the grenade rolled harmlessly out of the door.

We made it to our duty post without further incident. The Sarge and I did have a little discussion about this. He realized that we were all very fortunate.

How I learned to like Scallops

2008-11-18T08:50:00.000-06:00

The year was 1961 it was my first duty assignment as a Second Lieutenant--Company B, 720th MP Battalion, Fort Hood, TX. As a company officer I had many additional duties to supplement my primary duty as Platoon Leader. One of my favorite duties was that of Mess Officer. It was through this duty that I learned to enjoy scallops again. As a kid I got sick one time from eating them so I swore off of them for the rest of my life.

Well, fate has a unique way of getting your attention. This time it was very pleasant. While walking through the company area near noon I could not help but notice the most enticing aroma emanating from the mess hall. Any conscientious leader has to investigate everything that is happening within the olfactory range as well as within sight and hearing. Realizing my duties and responsibilities I forged ahead and entered the mess hall. Upon asking the Mess Sergeant what was the cause of that most marvelous aroma permeating the company area, I was informed that the luncheon special was deep-fried scallops.

Arrgh! I hate them. I cannot abide them. They make me sick. Yuck!!

I then approached the steam table where the first scallops out of the deep-fryer were waiting to be served. They looked as good as they smelled. Now I have a real dilemma. I don't like scallops, but I have a duty to the troops to test them to insure they are edible. After all we don't want the troops coming down with an illness. Scallops can do that you know.

You guessed it, I screwed up my courage. (It only took a couple of twists of the screw driver.) I asked the Mess Sergeant if I might try one. He agreed to get me one. We did have a breakdown in communication. I meant one scallop, he meant one bowl. I tried that "one" and have been eating them ever since. Thanks, Sarge.

Allegro Non troppo

2008-11-10T20:00:00.009-06:00

allegro non troppo -(L) fast, but not too fast

That Latin phrase is usually an aside reserved for a stage performer and not generally descriptive of one's military career. As an after thought, that sentence I should redress; to be fair, my service time was only a tour of duty, hardly worthy of being referred to as a career.

I am humbled to contribute to this blog as a mere enlisted man who simply wished to fulfill his military obligation and to return to civilian life as fast as possible. Jack, the creator of this blog, dedicated a fair portion of his life to a military career, I, I gave only a sliver.

Don't get me wrong, I did not resent the military or my time serving my country. Back then, going into the service was practically a rite of passage. Of course, there was also ... the draft!

Now, while those who did had their reasons, I felt that I could never have lowered myself to actively or defiantly avoid my obligation. It never crossed my mind to declare myself a conscientious objector, to burn my draft card or to flee to Canada; I would have never been able to sleep knowing I would have been acting in cowardice.

They didn't call that era "the turbulent sixties" for nothing. The fly in the ointment was our country's military involvement in Vietnam, a small country in Southeast Asia that most of us would have been unable to find on a map. The prevailing sentiments were that we didn't belong over there. This was evidenced by the violent protests and it was the theme of our music's lyrics. For What It's Worth by the Buffalo Springfield was adopted as the anthem of protest.

February 15, 1968, on my 18th birthday I received that dreaded envelope from Uncle Sam. You know the one, it begins with "Greetings." I had 30 days before I was to report to the nearest Army Recruiting office. On the 25th day I walked into the nearest Navy Recruiting office and enlisted for 4 years. I was of the mindset that four years in the Navy would be a lot healthier than to accept being drafted into the Army for two years.

I never saw action. Even though I was a half a world away from any conflicts while I was serving my country, I was no less out there doing my part to protect my country.

The accounts that I will post here will be mostly anecdotal: some funny, some sad and some dramatic. The title I used? At times my time in the service seemed to linger, but in the end those four years seemed to pass rather quickly. There were no regrets.

Allegro non troppo.

Vietnamese IED

2008-10-24T18:00:00.002-05:00

Posted for R. O.

During the summer of 1968, I was a member of a Mobile Advisory Team assigned to Thoung Duc District in Quang Nam Province, I Corps RVN.
We were responsible for working with the Regional Force and Popular Force units in the district as part of the effort to “Vietnamize” the war. While the district was geographically large the population was small and the was only one RF company and 10 PF platoons. All units lived in the only town in the district of the same name. The most interesting feature of the town was a large European style Catholic church in the middle of the ville.

The other interesting demographic was that the Catholics there were nearly all North Vietnamese, either those who had fled the north in 1954 or their descendants.
The total US advisor population was a small district team of three officers and two enlisted plus the MAT (two officers and three NCOs).

The town was isolated from friendly territory and the only way in or out for any one was by helicopter or Caribou. We did have another semi-friendly adjacent element in the area, as the An Duc SF camp adjoined the district compound on one side. The other major force in the area was the 2nd NVA division which occupied most of the district to our west to the Laos border.

Part of the district team was the captain responsible or the Phoenix program. He had a pot of money to do various things and one of those things was to pay the locals of weapons/ammuntion turned, no questions asked. At times we would accumulate a small cache of B40 rockets, 82mm mortar rounds and NVA hand grenades and other miscellaneous stuff before the District Senior Advisor (also a CPT) would get pissed and make the Phoenix CPT haul the stuff up to the SF demo pit and blow it up.
The town and the district compound were on a ridge nestled in the Y of the junction of two good sized rivers. Just across a bridge at the smaller river, we had a small air strip where the Air Force periodically brought supplies for both us and the Vietnamese via Caribou.

One day we were at the bridge replenishing our water supply, when the Phoenix CPT and a small group of boys ages 8-12 approached. A couple of the boys had what looked to be a metal canister about one foot square on the end and about 30 inches long slung on a pole between them. That sort of container normally was filled with nuoc mam, that wonderful aromatic fermented fish stuff the Vietnamese loved. According to the Captain, it was some sort of bomb/explosive device and he wanted us to take it back to the compound so he could study it.

So being the dumb-ass Lt that I was at the time, I complied with my instructions from a senior officer and we loaded the thing on the 2 ½ ton truck and drove back to the compound. It probably weighted about 35-40 lbs. Once there we place the device in the normal spot of the captain’s other toys (next to the shitter), and headed back to the river of another load of water.

Well shortly after we reached the river there was a loud explosion on the compound from the area where we had put the device. We rushed back to the compound to assess the damage. Fortunately, it was siesta time and no one had been wandering around the compound. While there was a fair amount of damage to the latrine and one adjacent building, there was only one casualty, a Vietnamese 1LT who had his room in that area and the wall fell on him as he rested. We got a Medevac, but he didn’t make it.

It is interesting to speculate if the device had a time fuse or was command detonated. If it had a time fuse, which would seem unlikely, unless the bomb was intended to have a random effect, I was both stupid and lucky as it could have gone off while I was in the close proximity.

Now if it was a command detonated device, it would have been relatively easy for the NVA to maintain observation as there were high ridge lines on the far sides of each river. Was the Captain specifically targeted? He was known for buying up stray munitions and things and taking the stuff back to the compound. He was also known for his tinkering with some of the more primitive items. This all could have been observed over time. I have never heard of such a device being used in Vietnam by the NVA, but I don’t thing it was beyond their capability.

Anyway that is my story of a Vietnam IED

Mid-air Collision

2008-09-05T12:30:00.003-05:00

Posted for J. M.

One of my most vivid memories of my tour in Vietnam was a mid-air collision between two helicopters – an American Cobra gunship and a Vietnamese UH-1H on May 2, 1970. As an advisor to the Vietnamese, I had been spared the pain of seeing Americans die, and for all these years later, I often thought of the two men on that Cobra. As I got ready to visit the Moving Wall in Lenexa, I realized that I did not know the names of the men.

After a search of the web, I discovered the names of the two crewmembers. They were WO Donald Parker and 1st Lt. Frank Rice. I looked them up on the Virtual Wall website and posted the following on each man’s page:

Jim M
Witness to the midair collision.

We saw it happen
On 1 May 1970, I was an Army Major serving as senior advisor to a Vietnamese armored cavalry squadron, and our incursion into Cambodia began. On that day, my senior NCO advisor looked at everything that was flying and said "Somebody had better get a handle on all this stuff, or we are going to have a midair." The next day it happened - a Cobra clipped the tail boom of a Huey right in our area. The Cobra crew never had a chance. Tonight for the first time I discovered who the crew members were - 1st Lt Frank Rice and WO Donald Parker. This week the Moving Wall comes here, and I will pay my respects to them. May you rest in peace, Heroes.
Sep 10, 2007

On September 14, I received this email:

Mr Mathison --

This evening, i came across your message Frank Rice was my husband.

Would you please tell me exactly, honestly, what happened on 2 may I am presuming that since you have posted this message with your address, that you will not mind my inquiring.

I trust so

Some twenty-five years ago or so, a dear friend, tom griffin, (now retired as ltg) did some investigating for me in doing that, he talked with Col Ted Mathison, who was flying with the team that day. Col Mathison, graciously and generously, asked if he could meet me.

So Tom arranged that in his office.

Apparently the south vietnamese general's helicopter flew into the path of the cobras.

I have read one incident report.

Your view was from the ground up, what did you see?

I seldom look at these sites -- for several reasons. The only one i always see is the one posted by our daughter on vvmf.org -- it is my home page
but tonight, I was looking for information on the reading of names in November -- she and my grandchildren are reading his name and while doing this, I looked at the different sites.

I was stunned when I saw your entry.

C M Rice

By coincidence, one of the men who was with me on the ground also lives in Leavenworth and I called him to confirm some details. After that conversation, I composed the following response to Mrs. Rice:

Dear Mrs. Rice,

I know that my message on the website has reopened your wounds, and for that I am sincerely sorry. I am sure that Frank can never be very far from your thoughts, but you did not need any reminders of that tragic day.

First, let me say that my first view of the accident was a second or so after the impact between the two aircraft. Two people who worked for me did, however, see the whole thing, and they related what happened to me. I have just called one of the two men who were with the unit that was being supported, and he reminded me of a few details that I had not remembered.

This was our second day into a place called “the Parrot’s Beak”, on the border between Vietnam and Cambodia. The area that we were attacking was a heavily fortified logistics complex, and we were using every asset that we had available to dislodge the VC who were defending it. Because it was such a critical fight, the Vietnamese IV Corps Commander was on the scene in his helicopter, a UH-1H “Huey”, flown by a Vietnamese Air Force (VNAF) crew. We were notified that a flight of 4 Cobras was in the area and available to attack the bunker complex where the heaviest fighting was.

Our troops marked the location of the enemy, and the Cobras started their attack runs. One or more of the ships completed their attacks without incident, and it came the turn of Frank and Mr. Parker to attack. They completed their run and, as they were pulling up, their main rotor hit the tail boom of the VNAF ship. Frank’s Cobra lost its main rotor, and they had no chance to survive. The VNAF ship came down spinning, but under reasonable control until moments before it impacted with the ground. Witnesses agreed that the pilot lost it at the last moment, and the helicopter plummeted to the ground, killing all aboard except for the crew chief.

Our 2-2 Troop dispatched a platoon of 3 armored personnel carriers, including one of my advisory team members, to render any aid possible and secure the site. It was this group that recovered the crew chief and reported that there were no more survivors.

It was apparent even to us non-rated soldiers that Frank and Mr. Parker were in the right, and that the IV Corps Commander’s Huey was down at a level where it did not belong. My first assignment in Vietnam was seven months with a Vietnamese infantry unit, and I flew on combat missions almost daily. I came to understand that there were rules and conventions within the aviation community regarding which levels aircraft should fly. The gun ships had to be allotted enough space to do their jobs, and the command and control ships were to stay out of their space.

Now, may I tell you how this all started, and how I came to post my message on the Virtual Wall website? My older son lives in the Kansas City area, and called to invite me to go with him to visit the Moving Wall this weekend. Although I have been to the Wall in Washington, I have never visited the Moving Wall. It seemed to be important to my son that we go, so I agreed to do so. I began to take stock of who, in particular, I wanted to pay my respects to. I graduated from West Point in 1961, and my first thoughts were of my 12 classmates who died in the war. Some of them were good friends and all were young. I remembered a fellow advisor, a captain who was killed on May 3, and I found his full name and his location on the Wall. Then I recalled that horrible moment of May 2, and realized that I did not know the names of the crew of the American helicopter.

After a lot of research, I found the names – Frank and Mr. Parker – and the accident report. In the course of reading the report, I learned that a Lieutenant Colonel Mathison was in the air over our area. That the only two field grade officers on the scene, this LTC and myself, shared a fairly uncommon last name was a remarkable coincidence. I located the other Mathison in Maryland, and I called him. He remembers that day like it was yesterday, and told me of meeting you when he was stationed in the Pentagon.

So, there you have it. I don’t believe that I have left anything out. I may have said more than you wanted, but I leave that to you to decide. When I go to the Moving Wall tomorrow, I will visit Frank and the others, and remember you and your daughter.

God Bless You,

Jim Mathison

Today, I received this response from her:

Thank you, Col Mathison.
Thank you

Most sincerely,
C M Rice

I received an envelope from Mrs. Rice, containing pictures, newspaper articles, and a letter. In the letter, she apologized for bothering me. I answered with the following email:

Dear Mrs. Rice,

On the contrary, I did not have the thoughts that you supposed. I very much enjoyed looking at the pictures, and reading the articles. You do have a handsome family.

Perhaps you would be interested in knowing a little more of what was behind my posting what I did on the Virtual Wall. I was influenced by the work of a young lady named Tracy Tragos, who is about the age of your daughter, and who also lost her father in Vietnam. Tracy's mother had never been very forthcoming about her dad, so she set out to learn about him. She told the story in the PBS show "Be Good, Smile Pretty." Perhaps you saw it. If not, I recommend it, although it is not easy to watch. The show was first telecast in 2003, but there are still articles and links at http://www.orphansofwar.org/.

I resolved to try to share anything that I knew if the opportunity ever presented itself. Once again, I hope that, in some small way, our correspondence has helped.

Jim Mathison

2008-08-08T12:30:00.002-05:00

Posted by J. K.

When I enlisted in the US Air Force my career options were limited. I chose jet engine mechanic. After completing basic training at Sampson AFB in New York State I was then assigned to Chanute AFB in Rantoul, IL for my technical training. During the course of training one of the NCO instructors observed me explaining the accessory section of a J-47 engine to a classmate. He later asked me if I would like to be an instructor. My first response was no.

After thinking over the opportunity, I went back to him and talked more about it. After that conversation I decided that I would give it a try. Apparently he saw something in me that I did not know about. At the time I did not know anything about power other than the power that comes with position. I used it unmercifully. As I look back on it, I was a tyrant. I had one more stripe than any of the students. You guessed it, I outranked them and I took unfair advantage of that. It was a learning experience.

I remember one class that was particularly unruly. They were required to do the GI party earlier than usual. Hey, if you don't want to learn, then we will let you do something you will have to do anyway.

That was my first taste of being an instructor. I have found out ways to do that from that time on. I like to think that I have mellowed since then. The difference, as far as I can tell, is the discovery of my personal power.

All through my life I have found myself making decisions to be teaching others. It is very rewarding to help others discover things they knew, but were unaware of their knowledge. I was beginning to lay the foundation so that I could discover the concepts of ....

Serve With Integrity! Care About Those You Serve! Share The Love In Your Heart!

In the Beginning...

2008-08-08T12:00:00.001-05:00

there were a group of men who met because they shared a common bond - service in the military. They served their country proudly and bravely.

It was appropriate to meet occasionally. Those meetings have continued for many years. When getting together stories and "lies" would be exchanged.

The stories collected here are just a few.