"Sharing can be a way of healing. Grief and loss can isolate,
anger even alienate. Shared with others, emotions unite
as we see we aren't alone. We realize others weep with us."
~Susan Wittig Albert

Through our writing, we walk out of the darkness into the light
together, one small step at a time, recording history, educating
America, and we are healing.
~CJ/Todd Dierdorff



Thursday, January 6, 2022

The Young Dead Soldiers: by Archibald MacLeish

Remembering at The Wall



THE YOUNG DEAD SOLDIERS
by Archibald MacLeish 

They say: 
our deaths are not ours. 
They are yours. 
They will mean what you make them.

They say: 
whether our lives and our deaths 
were for peace and a new hope, 
or nothing, 
we cannot say.
It is you who must say this. 

They say: 
we leave you our deaths. 
Give them their meaning. 
We were young.

They say: 
we have died. 

REMEMBER US.



Archibald MacLeish



"There are those, I know, who will reply that the liberation of humanity, the freedom of man and mind, is nothing but a dream.  They are right.  It is.  It is the American Dream."
--Archibald MacLeish


"There is only one thing more painful than learning from experience and that is not learning from experience."
--Archibald MacLeish





About the Author:

(1892-1982) Archibald MacLeish was an American poet, writer, and the Librarian of Congress. He is associated with the Modernist school of poetry. He received three Pulitzer Prizes for his work.


“I am only one, but I am one. I can't do everything, but I can do something. The something I ought to do, I can do, and by the grace of God, I will.” ~Everett Hale


Add your opinion, thought, or comment, about this post. You are also invited to write about anything you want to share. Send it to me in an e-mail and I will be proud to post it for you.

Memoirs From Nam is YOUR blog.


Operation Bolo: The "Special Mission"

C-130A-II spy plane, similar to the Silver Dawn C-130B-IIs
Kevin Critzer: CJ, I just got this forwarded to me from a service friend. Pretty unusual and very classified operation with a very high rate of success. 

[As published in "War is Boring"]

"Spies Helped the USAF Shoot Down a Third of North Vietnam’s MiG-21s.  The American pilots had to keep the NSA in the dark."

On Jan. 2, 1967, around 30 U.S. Air Force F-4 Phantom fighter jets flying from Ubon in Thailand shot down a full third of North Vietnam’s MiG-21s—for a loss of just one of their own.
It was a strategic victory in an air war that had been going poorly for American forces.

And now newly-declassified documents reveal that this complex mission—Operation Bolo—couldn’t have succeeded without significant help from the signal-snooping Air Force Security Service.

And to avoid a squabbles over scarce intel resources, the Op Bolo units had to keep the National Security Agency in the dark.

The operation—originally known simply as the “special mission”—had a hard time getting approved in the first place. By the end of 1966, both sides in the bitter war had lost just a few aircraft in air-to-air combat over North Vietnam, rendering a dramatic aerial sweep unnecessary.

In almost two years of air strikes, the Pentagon had lost only 10 planes to enemy MiGs. American fliers had themselves scored fewer than 30 aerial kills.

On top of this, Washington was worried about drawing countries including the Soviet Union and China into the conflict—a distinct possibility considering that Soviet and Chinese advisers were working with Hanoi’s air force.

The rules of engagement forbade American pilots from attacking Hanoi’s airfields for fear of killing foreign advisers.

Knowing all of this, the Vietnamese People’s Air Force adopted new tactics for harassing its larger and vastly more powerful American enemy.

The MiGs would zip through flights of less nimble fighter-bombers just long enough to scare American crews into ditching their bombs or extra fuel tanks. Afterwards, the North Vietnamese pilots would often speed back to their bases—safe from their opponents—without even firing a shot.

The U.S. Air Force’s Seventh Air Force, which controlled most of the service’s operations in Southeast Asia, was soon fed up with this dynamic. So the unit’s commanders proposed an elaborate ambush aimed at whittling down Hanoi’s fighter jets.

Col. Robin Olds & his F-4C Phantom fighter jet.
Seventh Air Force chose the famous Robin Olds—then a colonel in charge of the 8th Tactical Fighter Wing in Thailand—to lead the American strike force.

To lure out the North Vietnamese, American F-4s would fly the same routes into the country as the heavyset F-105 bombers—and at the same altitudes and speeds while using the same radio call signs.

But another key—and previously unknown—element of the top secret plan involved deploying signal-snooping aircraft to keep track of the MiGs. The special C-130B-IIs would listen in on enemy radio chatter and feed information straight to American pilots throughout the mission, according to a just-released historical study.

Olds wanted to be alerted if things weren’t working out so he could “turn around and lead the force home rather than expose it for no purpose,” the official document explains.

With timely information, the task force could also try to cut off the MiGs from their bases if “the North Vietnamese suddenly figured out what was going on and wanted no part of it.”

But the secret spy planes in question were tangled up in a serious bureaucratic mess. While technically Air Force property, the special C-130s fell under the control of the National Security Agency, which could refuse to loan them out for the mission.

NSA officials had objected to sending the aerial spooks—which flew under the codename Silver Dawn—on regular military operations. With fewer than 20 modified Hercules flying worldwide, the NSA probably worried these sort of day-to-day requirements would impede its own intelligence-gathering.

To alleviate these concerns, Pacific Air Forces tacitly approved a novel idea. Up and down the chain of command, everyone would simply cut the NSA out of the loop.

In any event, the flying branch’s commanders in the Pacific felt that the existing Silver Dawn mandate justified sending the C-130s to help out with Operation Bolo, anyway.

Intelligence specialists were already using radio chatter that the Silver Dawn planes scooped up to figure out how many fighter jets Hanoi had on hand and where the aircraft were located, according to separate documents the NSA released recently.

The Air Force’s Pacific headquarters “seemed to feel that [Seventh Air Force] was responsible for fighting the war in whatever way was necessary.” But if the spy agency did find out, PACAF would “play down any prior knowledge of Silver Dawn involvement or deviation from normal operation,” the special history notes.

The 6922nd Security Wing, which provided the intelligence personnel to operate the C-130s’ special gear, also refused to be a part the final planning process—in order to shield itself from any repercussions.

Maj. John Chaueteur, who acted as a go-between for the Seventh Air Force and the Air Force Security Service, was most concerned about going behind the NSA’s back. Chaueteur was in the uncomfortable position of effectively being ordered not to do his job.

“Chaueteur gets ‘clobbered’ every time he uses NSA as a reason for not doing something that [Seventh Air Force] wants done,” the Air Force monograph quotes another official as saying.

Chaueteur was so worried about being reprimanded or relieved that he ordered the head of the Silver Dawn project to destroy evidence of any messages concerning Operation Bolo.

To help keep up this ruse-within-a-ruse, the bulk of the task force was told that normal EC-121 radar planes were supplying updates on the MiGs during the operation. This misinformation would also prevent the North Vietnamese pilots from thinking anything was amiss.

When Operation Bolo finally kicked off, two Silver Dawn C-130s were already orbiting in the Gulf of Tonkin, scanning the airwaves. Vietnamese, Russian, Chinese and Korean linguists were all at their posts.

These specialized personnel not only made sure the Vietnamese were responding as expected, but also kept watch in case Chinese jets decided to join the battle. Olds wanted to know if Russian or North Korean advisers were actually in the cockpits when the fighting started.

The operation turned out to be a major success for the U.S. Hanoi’s pilots were caught completely off guard.

When Olds’ strike team started its attack, the C-130s picked up enemy pilots shocked to find that “the sky is full of F-4s,” according to the declassified report. “Where are the F-105s? You briefed us to expect F-105s!”

“I’d like to come down now,” another Vietnamese pilot reportedly declared.

Seven MiG-21s fell to Earth. The Pentagon had estimated Hanoi possessed between 20 and 25 of the jet interceptors before the secret op.

The NSA doesn’t appear to have been aware, at the time, that the Air Force had appropriated its aircraft. We couldn’t find out what happened to Chaueteur, but Olds earned a promotion to brigadier general the following year.

After a series of additional aerial ambushes, the Vietnamese People’s Air Force grounded its MiGs and completely revised its procedures. At the end of the year, Washington approved strikes on Hanoi’s air bases.

By 1973, American airmen had scored 137 confirmed air-to-air kills against their North Vietnamese adversaries.


“I am only one, but I am one. I can't do everything, but I can do something. The something I ought to do, I can do, and by the grace of God, I will.” ~Everett Hale


Feel free to comment on this post. You are also invited to write about anything you want to share. Memoirs From Nam is YOUR blog. You are writing America's history.




Monday, December 27, 2021

Vietnam 40+ Years Later


by Frank Fox


I find it difficult that some people find it easy to recommend that we forget about the Vietnam Conflict and embrace the new Vietnam.

I am not a rocket scientist, but the country is still in control of its population by the same people who forced the ‘Fall of Saigon’ and who waged war against our young men and women, until we were forced to withdraw from Vietnam all together. 

It appears there was no way for us to win that conflict, playing by the rules. If it had been a declared war, by definition, we would not have been limited to the levels of our aggression which was afforded us by our military technology and the Geneva Convention. 

It mostly was a case of, “We are taking fire!  Do we have permission to fire back?” 

“Wait one minute, and we will get back to you.” 

That lag in time was costly to U.S. troops. We lost 58,000+ Americans.  The Vietnamese lost 3,000,000. 

We were very good at our jobs, but time and space took its toll. There were many front lines, and at times, it was easy to get surrounded.

After a while, we even had enemies back at home, as it became an unpopular war. Young men who avoided the draft, had their own demons as they got older, and were feeling empty about not serving.

There is a gentlemen that is putting out a book on the new Vietnam, titled Vietnam 40 Years Later. I have included a link to his plead for money to help him make a profit off of the country where so many young Americans have lost their dreams and futures.

Vietnam 40 Years Later

I think there is something very wrong with this. He was old enough to have gone, but he avoided having to go. Now it’s okay and safe for him to go and we should embrace Vietnam’s future?

It is not that easy to let these things go and embrace the future, after having your future so painfully changed. 

Veterans from WW2, and Korea still have their scars and bitterness, when it gets quiet enough, cold enough, or dark enough. There are men today that can’t even do sport shooting, because of the smell of fresh fired ammunition.

To embrace their future is almost another slap in the face. So why didn’t we just step aside and let nature take its course? Fewer men, women, and children would have died, and we could be just tickled pink for them. 

We owe respect to those who died for their country, not for the cause, but for the history of defending the Democracy of the free people of the United States. Our troops in all wars have defended an ideal. It shows the world what we are capable of doing to protect this nation.

Polemology pertains to the study of war (we have studied that well). Something new on campuses is Irenology, Peace and Conflict studies. We need to work harder at preventing going to war.

Truman and LBJ committed us to aggression, without the consent of Congress. Then when Nixon stepped up the bombing over North Vietnam, again without permission from Congress, it got us the War Powers Act in 1973. It stated the rules of going to war so as to have the approval of more than one man. It was George W. Bush who made it possible to put us in the Middle East, without notifying Congress.

It is human nature to war from one society to another. In cost of human life, WW2 cost between 85 to 90,000,000 people. The Mongol invasions in Europe, hundreds of years before, without accurate records, took many more lives. They conquered most all of Europe, Asia, and Russia. The only people they let live were slaves, for whatever reason.

The world is shrinking, my friends, with more issues. We have to think smarter -- the oceans are only so wide. If we were sitting in the middle of Europe, things would be a little different.



“I am only one, but I am one. I can't do everything, but I can do something. The something I ought to do, I can do, and by the grace of God, I will.” ~Everett Hale


Feel free to comment on this post. You are also invited to write about anything you want to share. Memoirs From Nam is YOUR blog. You are writing America's history.

Send it to me in an e-mail and I will be proud to post it for you.


Fire Base Kathryn: RVN April 1970

Fire Base Kathryn, Vietnam War

by Byron Edgington


I’ll never forget my first girl. I’ll never forget Kathryn, either. Kathryn—the name of a fire base in northern I-Corps in the Republic of Vietnam.

The stated mission that day was to put troops on her mountaintop crag. The real mission was to educate me, a brand new Warrant Officer pilot, on the professionalism and capability of my ‘enemy,’ the North Vietnamese.

April 10th 1970. Chief Warrant Officer Ray Woods was company flight lead that day. I was a new guy, “Still pissing stateside water,” as John Lipski, my left seater, said. 

Our string of Hueys laced across the sky in a circle, like charms on a bracelet. We were waiting for the artillery prep to end, so we could land on LZ Kathryn, dump our grunts, and go home.

In the twenty-four ship formation, I tried to ignore my place in the lineup. I was right-seater in bird number thirteen. Lipski and I followed the twelve Hueys in front of us like so many sheep in a line. Careful to avoid the artillery trajectory, the GT line, Woody kept his flight a mile north of Kathryn.

Round after heavy artillery round pummeled the fire base. Its cratered surface, mangled tree stumps, and arid ground resembled a brown blister festering atop the mountain. Artillery had pounded the fire base all night, before the mission. 

It was nine a.m., and still we circled, twenty-four Hueys cutting holes in the sky, turning jet fuel into noise over northern I-Corps.

We were waiting for Willie Pete, two final rounds of White Phosphorus. When the twin marking rounds of WP popped above the fire base, their presence marked the end of the artillery prep. Only then could we land.

Minutes dragged on. We circled. Radio silence. Watching shell after shell explode atop that ridge, I couldn’t imagine anything alive up there. I almost felt sorry for the bad guys, the ones the intel people told us were there waiting for us to land. Surely, I thought, they’d all be killed, or run off. Nobody could survive that massive bombardment.

But, I was a rookie, about to learn an important lesson. I was about to see how resilient the enemy was ...

At nine-ten a.m., only a few minutes late, two ghostly clouds appeared a hundred feet above LZ Kathryn like twin thought balloons. Willie Pete; the arty prep was done. John slid his visor down and locked his shoulder harness. “Okay, guys,” he said. “Let’s go to work.”

In the rear of the cabin, the crew chief and door gunner sat up, alert. Crew chief on the left, door gunner right, they cinched their monkey straps tight and swiveled the business end of their .30 cals up. 

“Ready in the rear, sir,” they said in unison. 

As the gunners’ weapons came up and their charging rods clattered, the grunts stirred. Five GIs flicked cigarettes out. Their M-16s banged against the floor of the Huey as they adjusted their backpacks. Time for them to go to work, too.

Woody’s ship angled off, aiming toward Kathryn, and lined up for landing. Two Cobra gunships slid into position near the lead Huey, one left; one right. The Cobras would escort Woody, as he neared the LZ, then they’d break off. Together, the three aircraft flew toward Kathryn’s ragged shell-shot surface.

Woody called his approach. “Thirty seconds out,” he said.

I watched from my aircraft, a mile behind, twelve UH-1's ahead of me.

“Short final,” Woody said, the rattle and pop of Cobra suppressive fire and his crew’s sixties barking in his radio call.

Woody’s Huey touched down on Kathryn and men streamed onto the fire base. Then a radio call that chilled my arms. Woody screamed into the ether. “Taking fire,” he yelled. “On the fire base. My gunner’s hit. He may be dead.”

John looked across the cockpit, and shook his head. “Son of a bitch.”

After an all-night bombardment, a pummeling no one could possibly have survived, an enemy soldier had leapt into the open on Kathryn and shot Woody’s door gunner. And the man was indeed dead, killed instantly. 

It’s gonna be a long year, I thought.

Our turn. John steered the Huey toward Kathryn’s landing spot. I watched the gauges, called out readings. “Torque’s good; rpm’s good.” I focused inside the cockpit, from fright, or denial, I’m not sure. 

I’ll never forget my first girl. But I don’t remember landing on Kathryn. Before I knew it, the Huey was empty and John had lifted off. 

We took no fire, no hits. Still, what I’d seen gave me a lot of respect for the enemy. That respect helped keep me alive in Vietnam, that and a simple rule: never underestimate the North Vietnamese.


Byron Edgington




Byron Edgington
The SkyWriter

Website
Blog
Byron's Book








“I am only one, but I am one. I can't do everything, but I can do something. The something I ought to do, I can do, and by the grace of God, I will.” ~Everett Hale


Feel free to comment on this post. You are also invited to write about anything you feel comfortable sharing. Memoirs From Nam is YOUR blog. You are writing America's history, sharing the truth about the Vietnam veteran, and what it was like in Our War.


The War Within

The War Within
by Robert Cosmar

War places us in contact with our darker nature and the alternate reality of our existence. It goes far beyond religion, morals, training, combat, and what is considered normal to most folks.

Each of us has the capacity for great awareness, great enlightenment, and great love and truth, but we also have the capacity for great destruction, anger, pain, fear, and even madness, if we become lost to our darker nature.

It isn't a matter of right, or wrong in war, only an acceptance of what is and following orders. In combat, almost anything goes and our moral teachings have to be set aside. 

Guilt is the consequence, as well as an underlying fear that we may experience this part of ourselves again, even in less dangerous circumstances.

It's normal to suppress our dark nature and fear its presence, as long as we remember, at the other end of it, is great light, knowledge, and healing.

We are not our darkness.  We are a consciousness that observes the darkness and, at times, for self-preservation, we are forced to identify with it, like in combat.  When we are in darkness, there is a freedom that didn't exist in our normal daily lives.

This same freedom is experienced by those who seek enlightenment. It is a place where we become free of the teachings of mankind, and potentially aware that we and life are much more than we originally thought. 

This freedom can give us the power to choose and create an authentic life built on love, healing, and serving others, or on a life that embraces judgment, guilt, and unbelievable emotional pain.

The warrior can face their pain and break free from the shackles of mankind, or they can give in to their unconscious guilt and shame and be tortured by it.

Acceptance is the key to healing and non-judgment. In reality, no one punishes us but ourselves. We all have the key to acceptance -- but will we open the door and walk inside to go beyond the fear and guilt within us?



“I am only one, but I am one. I can't do everything, but I can do something. The something I ought to do, I can do, and by the grace of God, I will.” ~Everett Hale


Feel free to comment on this post. You are also invited to write about anything you feel comfortable sharing. Memoirs From Nam is YOUR blog. You are writing America's history, sharing the truth about the Vietnam veteran, and what it was like in Our War.

Wednesday, December 22, 2021

The Smorgasbord Patrol

The Jungle of Vietnam

by Bobby Q

(Bobby Quintana-Sena)

“Older men declare war, but it is the youth that must fight and die." -- Herbert Hoover


The word "tired" didn't do justice to the amount of pain in our bodies, especially our legs, from the constant marching for two days.

We tried to sleep during the day, but the strain of trying to stay awake at night and the constant adrenaline rush awaiting an attack had us on pins and needles.

We had been deep in the jungles, canopied with trees, vines, and other vegetation, making walking an effort in itself. We ran across trails, but did not encounter any VC, however, it was very obvious they had been around. Luckily we weren't engaged and didn't suffer any casualties. That was the only bright spot in the march. 

All we looked forward to was getting back to the base camp in one piece. We knew a shower and fresh food would work wonders in rejuvenating us and making us whole again -- until we had to go out again. It was a vicious circle one could not get used to.

Word came through the line that we were to start walking down the mountainside and find the extraction point a few hours from us. 

As we started off, we were a little upbeat.  Since we were going back to base camp, we could take a break for awhile. One of the guys, Specialist Four Martinez, was talking to a man behind him and he tripped on a vine.  With the slight incline, he almost fell forward, (which would have been a lot less painful), but he tried to use his rifle as a crutch to hold him up. 

Try as he might, he couldn't get his balance and ran smack into a tree with his head. The only reason he didn't get a cracked skull was because he chose to wear a helmet, instead of the boonie hat most of us wore. It was actually quite funny and we all started laughing, which brought the Lieutenant back as the column stopped.  He also laughed, when we told him what happened.

The Lieutenant was just as tired as we were and he said since we had to wait until Martinez got his head cleared, we might as well take some time to eat and relax for the final leg down the hill. 

As Doc was working on Martinez, he found him to be somewhat disorientated, but otherwise in good health. The laughter started again, when Doc showed us the helmet with the dent. 

At this point, Martinez got mad and started cussing.  One of the guys who was eating a pound cake, slung a piece of cake with a bendable spoon at Martinez, hitting him again in the head. Pieces of the dry pound cake were stuck in his hair and the whole gang went wild. 

Before Martinez could get up and retaliate, one of the guys who knew I despised ham and lima beans, hit me square in the chest with a big glob of it. That was the start of one great food fight. 

Beanie weenies, ham and eggs, (you name the food), was slung all over the whole patrol, as we lay on the ground. We had tears in our eyes from the event and all our cares and stress went out the window.

It was like a great wave of relief went through the whole group. We vented our feelings, flushed them out of our system, and enjoyed ourselves without a care in the world. We felt like we could march for another week.

We were all laying around, still laughing occasionally, as we made our preparations to get moving again.  Suddenly, one of the guys jumped up in the air about two feet and commenced to slap himself, making pinching motions all over his body. 

Pretty soon, another guy started and finally, we were all trying to disrobe. It seemed that in our glee of slinging food all over the place, we invited an army of red ants and other creepy-crawly critters to our festival. 

There were some serious ant bites among us and we almost had to undress to get all off them off.  It didn't take us long to gather our belongings and move to a different area so we could clean ourselves us as best we could. The lack of water didn't help the situation and we didn't want to use up all of our drinking water. 

Specialist Martinez's amazing recovery occurred during our hysteria and we were surprised when we noticed he was the first one out of the area.

I couldn't wait to see how this was all fabricated, once we got back to base camp and the drinking started.  I was sure there would be several variations of the tale, none of which anyone would ever believe.

Bobby Q
USAF
Vietnam


Bobby Q



Other Articles by Bobby Q:

Four Months and a Wake Up
That's the Air Force For You ...






“I am only one, but I am one. I can't do everything, but I can do something. The something I ought to do, I can do, and by the grace of God, I will.” ~Everett Hale


Feel free to comment on this post. You are also invited to write about anything you feel comfortable sharing. Memoirs From Nam is YOUR blog. You are writing America's history, sharing the truth about the Vietnam veteran, and what it was like in Our War.