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.

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.

Frank Fox

Combat Medic
Sea/Air Rescue
US Navy with USMC
August 1964 – August 1970 (6 years 1 month)

More Articles by Frank Fox:

Old School Patriotism is Still Alive
Veterans Sharing Recipes
The White House Christmas Card
War: Some Are Better Prepared
Our Generation
The Marine and the Cure
More Thoughts on War and Youth
Opinions, Thoughts and Feelings
A Different PerspectiveA Worthy Rebuttal to Mr. Garrison

“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

Other Articles by Byron Edgington:

Bob Hope: Christmas 1970, Camp Eagle
History/Archival Sites for Vietnam Vets
Vietnam: Arriving at the Truth
Do Guns Equal Safety?
Laotian Rescue Mission
Ho Chi Minh
Terror and Hilarity
A Return to Vietnam
The War That Will Not Let Us Rest
War: A Waste of Youth
The Right Seat is the Wrong Seat
Jim, Frank, and The Snake
Smokey, The Alcoholic Pup

“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.

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.

Recognition Delayed for Many Vietnam Vets

Unofficial Self-Designed Insignia

by Frank Fox

Most military veterans were aware of covert activities of special units of American military, but they never knew the details.

These special units were chosen because of special skills and abilities.

Many veterans of the aggression in South Vietnam (really Laos and Cambodia as well) were servicemen from various U.S. Forces. They unofficially belonged to a group designated MACV-SOG (Military Assistance Command Vietnam-Studies and Observation Group). 

Because we had a Hanoi agreement, we were not supposed to venture into the countries on Vietnam's Western border. The area was sanctuary for PAVN (People’s Army of Vietnam) and NVA (North Vietnamese Army).

It was necessary to keep tabs on the movements of the enemy, and at times bring the wrath of hell deservedly upon them.

The many brave troops could not be recognized, until years after the war, and the truth be known about KIA’s, MIA’s, and WIA’s. Twenty three Veterans had to wait until 2001 to receive the DSC (Distinguished Service Cross, the nation’s second highest award).

Because the details were classified, many families only received generic reports on their KIA’s and MIA’s. Most soldiers were instructed and sworn to secrecy.

Many of these soldiers had special skill sets. Please use the link to see another facet of Vietnam that was ongoing for years, before the start of aggression, until the U.S. pulled out.

Sometimes we forget all those who covertly did tasks and assignments, and lost their lives, to keep American forces as safe as they could.

To the difference they and their comrades made ... hand salute ... two.

Military Assistance Command, Vietnam - Studies and Observations Group

Frank Fox

Combat Medic
Sea/Air Rescue
US Navy with USMC
August 1964 – August 1970 (6 years 1 month)

More Articles by Frank Fox:

Old School Patriotism is Still Alive
Veterans Sharing Recipes
The White House Christmas Card
War: Some Are Better Prepared
Our Generation
The Marine and the Cure
More Thoughts on War and Youth
Opinions, Thoughts and Feelings
A Different PerspectiveA Worthy Rebuttal to Mr. Garrison

“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 are comfortable with sharing. Memoirs From Nam is YOUR blog. You are writing America's history.

Vietnam Vet Recipes: Eggplant Lasagna

Eggplant Lasagna

by Frank Fox

This is a great dish and made without pasta (those pesky carbs). 

Eggplant is also known as Aubergine, Melongene, Garden Egg, or Guinea Squash.

Go to your market, or grocery, and select two medium-sized eggplants that are smooth to the touch and firm, under a little pressure. 

Also while you're at the grocery make sure you pick up the following ingredients:

What You Will Need:

· Eggplant (2 medium)

· A blister pack of your favorite mushrooms

· Bell Pepper of choice (I like red)

· Jar of minced garlic (or you can cut up your own)

· A sweet yellow onion

· A jar of your choice of seasoned red pasta sauce (I use garlic/basil).  You know, the stuff like Prego.

· Box of yellow corn meal

· Package of shredded Italian cheese, or whatever cheese suits you

· Oil for frying.  I use peanut oil.  It delivers taste and can take the heat (it's best for fish and oysters, too).  Or you can use whatever oil you prefer.

Get home and start cutting things up ...

· Peel the eggplants and trim ends off of both eggplants. Using a large knife, cut each eggplant into ¼ inch thick slices lengthwise.

· Do a coarse dice on half of the onion, also about half of the red bell pepper (again, you can use whatever kind of pepper you prefer).

· Trim off the dry stem parts of five medium-sized mushrooms and then slice the mushroom heads crosswise into about ¼ inch pieces.

Mix together well, about 1-1/2 cups of milk and one large egg to dip the eggplant in.

Dry Ingredients for Coating the Eggplant Slices:

In a large zip lock bag, pour in about half of the box of corn meal.

  

Add about 1 teaspoon of black pepper and any other dry spices, such as salt, basil, oregano, etc., whatever you like is fine. 

If you are a garlic person, add some garlic powder. 

Optional:  add about 1/2 cup of seasoned bread crumbs. 

Zip bag up and shake well.

Step-by-Step Preparation:

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Lightly spray a casserole dish (mine is 12 inches x 7 ½ inches) with a product like PAM on the bottom (not yours, the dish). 

Dip each piece of eggplant into the milk and egg mixture.  

Place each piece, one at a time, into the dry mixture in the zip lock bag and shake until the slice is completely covered. 

Place the coated piece of eggplant on a plate, then finish coating the rest of the pieces the same way.

Using a large skillet, pour enough oil into the skillet to just about cover each piece.

When oil is hot enough, (Test it by putting a small piece in.  It should sizzle nicely). Depending on how large each piece is, just fry all of the slices until they're rigid, with a nice browned appearance.  (It goes pretty quick). 

Take each piece out, holding it over the skillet to drain off the excess oil.  Then place it on a double layer of paper towels. 

In another skillet, put your chopped up vegetables, dry (no oil).  After frying the eggplant slices, pour a little of the hot oil from that frying pan into the vegetables over the heat and stir until the vegetables soften. When they're done (not burnt), turn the heat off.

Take a jar of your choice of red pasta sauce and pour some in the bottom of the Pam-sprayed casserole dish and spread it around to coat the dish. 

Now start layering.  First, the fried eggplant slices go in the casserole. It won’t be a perfect fit, but it will be fine. 

Sprinkle some of your shredded cheese on the eggplant layer. 

Then spread some of your vegetables over the cheese layer. 

Then start the layering again in the same order.  Lay the rest of eggplant slices over the previous vegetable layer, then the cheese, followed by the vegetables.  This should be enough. Of course, if you use a larger dish, it will require more of everything. 

Pour the remainder of the red pasta sauce over the top, and spread it evenly.  Then sprinkle more cheese over the top of the red pasta sauce.

The oven should already be preheated by now.  Put the casserole into the oven and let it bake for about 30 minutes. 

You can sprinkle more cheese over the top just before removing it from oven. 

When it's done baking, take it out and let it rest for a couple of minutes, then serve.

Sometimes I will slice up a skinless, boneless chicken breast into ¼ inch pieces, soak in milk, and dip each piece in same corn meal in zip lock, then fry in the Peanut oil, pretty quick. Is optional, but one may want some meat with it.

“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 Inner Battle of War

by CJ Heck

The following question has brought a mountain of varied responses since its April 3, 2016  posting on Memoirs From Nam:  "Do You Still Think About Vietnam?

The article has now received several thousand responses from Vietnam Veteran groups in LinkedIn, Facebook, and Google+.  Those comments have run the gamut, from outright indignation, to soulful thoughts of helping others.

The original article was written by a Vietnam veteran, who chose to remain anonymous. He felt it was important for people to understand why he cannot, NOT think about Vietnam. He will always think about Vietnam -- and the war.

For a soldier, war wounds.  It wounds the body.  It wounds the mind.  It also wounds the soul, but the soul does not condemn, or judge us. It is only our own ego which judges and condemns.  Our soul becomes wounded anytime we are called on to do things that go against our natural conscience, which is our soul's sense of right and wrong.

We also have our unnatural conscience.  This comes from mom and dad, schools, society, and in the case of the soldier, the government and military.  When we go against our unnatural conscience, we learn there are consequences.  It starts in childhood and follows us through life: if we lie, mom and dad will ground us; if we cheat on a test, we will fail the course; if we steal, we will go to jail. For the soldier, if you don't shoot the enemy first, you will be killed.

These learned consequences are paid through those who taught them to us: mom and dad, school, society, and the government and military.  They do not damn the soul; however, they do wound the soul
through our natural conscience, our soul's sense of right and wrong. When this happens, the ego strives to make us pay, and it does this by using guilt.

The soldier is called on to do things that go against his natural conscience, which is the soul's sense of right and wrong. the ego takes control.  It tries to make him pay by using guilt over a long period of time, sometimes for an entire lifetime.

When our body has a wound, it heals itself. The soul is much the same. When we do things to help others heal their soul, we also slowly heal ours, as well.  We are taking the attention off of our individual judgment, or the judgment of our ego, and we begin to open our hearts by service to another.  

We are meant to serve one another.   We are all one soul, all Brothers and Sisters, worldwide.

“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.

Suicides Among Veterans on the Rise

Depression and Suicide ...

by Byron Edgington

To my fellow veterans, their spouses, friends, family and those who care for us.

Here are a few words about the appalling number of suicides in our ranks. If the latest report is to be trusted, there are 22 suicides every day among military veterans. 

Though the Department of Defense statistics make it appear that suicide rates are declining to match the general population, a bit of interpretation of those numbers reveals a stark reality. 

Older vets, and especially National Guard and Reserve troops seem to be particularly vulnerable to suicidal ideations, and they (we) often succeed. 

There are many reasons, and I claim no expertise, but among them are alcohol and drug-related addictions, family conflict upon return from a theater of war, PTSD, loss of career and/or military-oriented purpose, (see underline below) and a host of other issues.

Michael Schindler is a Navy veteran, and president of Edmonds-based Operation Military Family. Writing on Edmonds Military Wire, Schindler, an author and frequent lecturer, had this to say about military suicides:

“Suicides among veterans over the past five years climbed from 18 a day to 22 a day. Bottom line: Those who serve and have served continue to fight the emotional battles, only to lose the war. 

One of the keys to overcoming the issue of suicide is helping transitioning service members find a new sense of mission. In doing so, a new purpose is born. From this, one can design an action plan and build a support network.” (http://myedmondsnews.com)

If you're a veteran struggling with emotional issues, or know of a vet who needs help, please get involved and extend whatever assistance you can, even if it means just listening to their concerns, and taking them seriously.

There is help out there. No veteran needs to suffer in silence.

Here are some resources:

http://www.armyg1.army.mil/HR/SUICIDE/DEFAULT.ASP

http://www.suicide.org/suicide-prevention-in-the-military.htmlhttp://www.militaryonesource.mil/http://www.ptsd.va.gov/public/PTSD-overview/reintegration/index.asp

(For good fiction and non-fiction accounts of the emotional perils associated with returning from war, read "Johnny Don't March" by Timothy Hurley, or "They Were Soldiers", by Ann Jones.)

Byron Edgington

Byron Edgington

The SkyWriter

Website
Blog
Byron's Book

Other Articles by Byron Edgington:

Bob Hope: Christmas 1970, Camp Eagle
History/Archival Sites for Vietnam Vets
Vietnam: Arriving at the Truth
Do Guns Equal Safety?
Laotian Rescue Mission
Ho Chi Minh
Terror and Hilarity
A Return to Vietnam
The War That Will Not Let Us Rest
War: A Waste of Youth
The Right Seat is the Wrong Seat
Jim, Frank, and The Snake
Smokey, The Alcoholic Pup

“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.

"Home. It's not far away.": by John Puzzo

Home.  It's not far away
by John Puzzo

The shadows are lengthening for me.
I listen with thirsty ear 

for days gone past, 

where faint bugles sound Reveille 

over the cold, damp marsh
And call the Last Post 

over the mournful sounds 

of battlefields grown distant.
I'm just going home. 

It's not far, just close by...
my friends are there, 

mother and father, too.
Jesus is the door.
Don't be sad...that's not me, 

lying there. I am already gone.
At the shore of the river 

the boatman waits for his coin.
I shall not disappoint him.
Across the other side 

Sentinels watch for to welcome me,
and as they all were called, beckon
“Brother, home my brother. 

The load you bore is left 

for others to carry, yet over there…
So hang your cap upon this tree
and wait not long, You Sentinel.
In time you, too will see
another coming to these gates…
That others will be free.”

“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 Bean Dip Incident: by Lance Pinamonte

This is not your typical war story, as it starts on a bright sunny morning in a land far, far away, where the wind was blowing the billowing smoke from the burning shit cans into the clapboard hooch's, causing many a night flight crew to awaken earlier than planned.

The smell of JP-4 and feces would somehow penetrate all of your senses and leave one with a positive outlook for the daily events planned by much better men than yourself. This was just one of those days, where you knew your day would be special ...

At least we got to sleep a couple of hours and the chow line was short, the pickings slim. A glass of OJ and a couple of slices of stale toast, it did not matter, it all tasted like those burning shit cans.  I made my way out to the flight line and decided to do my intermediate inspection, since it was only an hour away from being due.

So, stealing a maintenance stand from a PE crew, I slowly pushed the awkward stand down the pot-marked flightline only to lose control of it at the drainage ditch. Trying my best to keep it upright, I decided to hold on for dear life to the side of it, which caused me, and the stand, to end up in the mud at the bottom of the ditch.

Now, understand, this mud was special.  It had hydraulic fluid, JP-4, urine, and engine oil, along with the run off from the wash rack close by, all mixed together in it.  I was lucky. I landed on my head, so I would not break anything... it was at this point that the PE crew noticed I had stolen their stand, so out they came, all four of them, to retrieve it.

After they thanked me for finding their stolen stand, they pulled it from the ditch, had a good laugh at my demise, and wheeled it back to the PE hanger.  I decided I had better clean up, so I went over to the wash rack, grabbed the hose from the overhead water tank, and turned it on over my head... the previous operator of the wash rack had filled the tank with detergent, instead of spraying it on with a pressure can.  So, off I went to the hooches to shower and change clothes.

At this point, I thought things had to get better as I walked towards my hooch. But, no, it was about to get so much worse ... my pilots and gunner met me halfway back and informed me we had a mission -- no time to change, or shower -- so changing course, we all headed to my ship.

The first mission was a simple taxi job.  Pick up passengers in Saigon and take them to Lai Khe. As we took off, I noticed I was itching a little. The detergent was working at removing my first layer of skin.

By the time we got to Saigon, I was a bright shade of red and even my gunner was feeling sorry for me.  The pilots told me there was a garden hose to the side of a building near the landing pad, so while we were waiting for our passengers. I ran over to the hose and undressed to rinse off the detergent.

As I was standing there in my birthday suit, our passengers arrived.  As if I wasn't already red enough, I was even a darker red when I saw our passengers were Donut Dollies.

An old saying from one of my high school friends came to mind, "If they haven't seen it already, they will never see it again."  Now, I knew it wasn't the best saying in the world, but as I finished putting on my wet fatigues, I knew it couldn't get much worse, right?

I dropped my head and headed for the ship like a scolded dog, bright red, and still itching. I just couldn't make eye contact with these ladies.  The ONLY round eyes within 100 miles and I had to make a fool of myself in front of them ...

I just about got to the ship and was headed for the main rotor tie down, and "WHAM", I ran into
the stinger of the aircraft with my forehead -- sometimes, its best to look up when walking around large objects. Luckily, it didn't knock me out, but I knew it was going to leave a mark -- it turned into a nice goose egg, right in the middle of my forehead.. So much for any vanity around the ladies ...

The Donut Dollies had already sat down and the pilot started the ship.  My gunner had helped them with their seat belts, I donned my helmet, and dropped the face shield in shame. Of course, the helmet didn't feel real good on my goose egg, so I sat dejected in my gunwell, trying to sit still with my lower half itching like hell, and my head starting to throb.

We landed in Lai Khe shortly after and our pretty cargo departed, with a giggle and a wave. We had some time to wait for our next mission, so the pilots left for the local mess hall and I again tried to start my intermediate inspection. My Gunner was helping, which usually made it a little faster, although he had a strange sense of humor, being a grunt for six years.

Of course there was no maintenance stand, so I had to crawl up on the stinger and balance there to take my tail rotor oil sample.  So, I was standing on a 1-inch rod, balancing a wrench in one hand,
and a oil sample bottle in the other -- what could go wrong?

Well the sample draw plug was stuck, so I pulled a little harder on the wrench, and "POW" it came loose all at once, with oil hitting the top of my head.  As I panicked and tried to pull the wrench to shut it, I lost my balance and fell off the skid, landing on my butt.  Hey, the good thing was, I filled the sample bottle! The bad thing was, I now had oil dripping off my nose... We finally finished the inspection and the pilots showed up to take off for our next mission... We got a can of C's for lunch...

Our next mission was unplanned, as we left for a simple resupply we got a call for a medivac, we flew to an area near Quan Loi and contacted the ground troops, we headed into popped smoke, then realized it was not the right popped smoke.. The enemy opened up, and our ship shuttered, we could not return fire because of close proximity of our troops, so I made myself a small itchy crotched, oily, bumpy headed person, so they couldn't see me... 

The pilots were screaming as they pulled hard on the old bird to clear the trees, we gained altitude and it got real silent, then we all realized we were still alive.. The ship was doing well and another ship had arrived on scene to do the medivac, we were making a beeline to Quan Loi with my bird making a whistling noise, losing power, and the pilots calling altitude and RPM's.. They got the bird down safely, although it wouldn't fly again for many months.. It had thirty four counted holes in it, including a few in the main rotor blade, but none of us had a scratch........

We were emptying the ship of our gear, waiting for one of our ships to take us back home when a bunch of bad humored NVA decided to fire a few rockets at the flightline of Quan Loi.. Now some people run
for the nearest cover, but being veterans of many rocket attacks we knew the best action was to hit the deck in place, and become flat as hell... The odds of them hitting us was very slim, the odds of us having to lay down in leaking JP-4 from our ship was high... 

So after the all clear was sounded my crotch had another reason to itch and now a steady burn was over coming the itch.. The good thing was that now I had company, my Gunner... One of our ships landed shortly after, and my Gunner and I were forced to sit on the floor of the ship, the CE of that bird did not want JP-4 on his seats...

Now I bet you are wondering where the Bean Dip is going to come in? Well, my day had to have a bright spot right? By the time we got back to base it was dark, all I wanted was a shower and a cot to sleep away this bad dream of a day.. I got back to my hooch and found a care package from home sitting on my bunk.. My parents would send me KIT wax, chips and,,,, you guessed it, BEAN DIP... so I decided instead of going to the Mess hall for something to eat I would have a feast on bean dip and chips, the shower could wait a little longer.. 

I opened the package and there it was four cans of bean dip, ripping open the chips, and grabbing a Pepsi from the mini-fridge, I started to open the bean dip can by pulling the tab and promptly slicing my thumb wide open.... It started to bleed and I grabbed my clean towel I was going to use for a shower, wrapping my thumb up, then peeking at the wound I decided I had better head for the medic's, as I had very little holding my thumb on... 

The medic started on it as soon as I arrived, no one else was there at that hour, and as he stitched he asked if I wanted a Purple Heart.. I said "For what, a Bean Dip Mortar?" .. He looked at me strange and said "I thought you got this outside of Quan Loi?" , I simply replied "Its a long story and a bad day."..

Just think, I could be telling my Grandkids about my Purple Heart right now, instead I tell them about a Bean Dip can...

Lance Pinamonte

“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.

In Remembrance of Hamburger Hill: by Michael Lansford

“CJ, please post this like you do on your Blog.  I only hope I honored them well.

Sometimes as I write, I get to thinking I could use better wording, but I write what I feel and it wouldn't be the same any other way.

This is the most difficult time of my life every year and it seems to affect me more and more. If people only knew how hard it was up there and they knew the guys, maybe they would see our world differently and know real American Heroes did serve in our war.   

We paid a costly price for that piece of ground and, right or wrong, we stood up for what we believed in --each other and our country. 

Thanks again for doing this.
Michael Lansford”

For Michael Lansford, in honor of his service on Hill 937, “Hamburger Hill”, May 10 to May 20, 1969.  ~CJ Heck

Michael (Surfer) Lansford

On this day, I pay my respects to comrades who fought, died, and survived Hill 937 --or as it was better known, "Hamburger Hill", 10 May 1969 -- 20 May 1969.

 Reflections and Remembrances:

We Vietnam vets have come far, some much farther than others, yet we’ve traveled many of the same journeys and paths.

I wonder myself as I reflect and remember. What could we have been in our lives? What might we have become? How have we turned out? Did those of us who survived make a difference in our world?

What if the ones we lost had survived? How different might the world have been for so many more? There are so many questions and so few answers.

There were battles won, yet lost --in the end, no one wins battles, or wars. We just survived. The sign at the top of the hill asks, "Was it worth it?" I ponder that question to this day.  We will never truly know the answer. 

Those of us who were there have strong opinions about all of it, but through time, those opinions only fall on deaf ears. We are almost forgotten, except WE remember and we always will in our own ways.

A lot of lives paid for that hill. They gave their lives for it and for us, too, for reasons no one will truly understand --it’s hard to explain the change that comes over you in combat when fellow comrades are being killed.

Each of us had different feelings, yet there was always one common goal. Survive and save as many as you could. That's all we could do. We fought on, knowing the outcome looked bleak, with fear so strong we were numb to it, so we fought even harder --all to an end that had no end.

A noted author once wrote about our war, "Some lived, some died, some lived to tell the story." We lived it for ten brutal days and nights, never knowing which one of those we would end up being. In many ways, we will continue to live all of this, no matter what. It never leaves us, ever.

It was always said, "You can leave the Nam, but the Nam will never leave you." They were right. No one ever really comes home. There’s always something somewhere that takes us back, like it or not. It will only end when we pass through the wall and there are no Vietnam vets left, because we are all together again on the other side.

I wonder what an old vet thinks as he sits up on a knoll looking across at The Wall, alone and scared, his wise eyes staring into the past. Can we even imagine what he is thinking, feeling, and knowing? If we could look in his eyes, we would know. From that distance, he can't read the names, but he doesn't have to read them.  He can still see their faces, because he will never forget them.

So I end this page of my journey with a promise I made.  I will never forget my comrades from Hill 937. For forty-nine years, I have kept my word, and my journey continues. I hope in their eyes I have lived up to my promise.

To this day, I am humbled and honored to have been with them through the good and the bad. I will never forget.  Promise made.  Promise kept.

God bless and God speed,

Michael (Surfer) Lansford

“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

A Soldier's Poems: by Mihanel Pabon

Mihanel Pabon

Intrusive Thoughts

by Mihanel Pabon

It's a memory embedded 

in your brain

that's not so much a memory

as it is a stain.

No matter how long ago it was

when most will say, let it pass

You are not trying to remember it

you're trying to dismember it.

Normalcy becomes an illusion

for when everything seems to be all right,

when it appears you're winning the fight,

BOOM, a trigger appears.

Unfortunately, you never know 

when, 

where, 

or what

a trigger could be,

a smell, 

a sound, 

or something you see.

I could go on writing for untold pages

and write a manifesto for the ages,

but I just want you to understand

that I'm really trying

 against this intrusion

to take a stand.

I'm going to go straight to the core.

You see, I want to enjoy

this precious moment of normalcy.

It was all caused

by war.

Why I Am

Mihanel Pabon

I Am, so you can be

What you choose to be

I am, so no one in your way can get

And in comfort, your roots you may set

I am forever in your service

Sometimes I do get nervous

But that's part of who I am

That's my humanity

Which does not include vanity

I will do everything I've learned

To stop inhumanity

It's not in vain

To be proud of who you are

And from where you came

To always be true to the cause

Never ever seeking, or wanting applause

It's who I am

So you can be

Above all things, happy and free

My family I love very much

But as a human being

In one way, or another, everyone's life we touch

Thank God

They understand who I am

So the old can be happy and free

And the same way the young grow older

Is why I fulfill my destiny

I am

Soldier

About the Author:

Mihanel Pabon was 11 Bravo (grunt) and in Vietnam from January 27 to December 20, 1970.

He lives in Brooklyn, New York, with Elaine, his wife of forty years.  As he says, "Talk about deserving a medal -- I mean Congressional -- I was fortunate to find someone so strong."

Mihanel and Elaine have two daughters, Mandy and Tara, and a four month-old granddaughter, Lei-Lani Olivia. 

A lot of Mihanel's writings were the direct result of requests, which he customized. If you need the right words for anyone, or any situation, feel free to leave him a comment with your email address, so he can contact you.  He will be happy to try and help.

“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 Round Trip: by Lance Pinamonte

Some things stick with you longer than needed...

Recently, I found myself wondering why I am filled with a deep dread whenever I think of a "Round trip Ticket".

The reason finally dawned on me the other day when I was discussing prices for round trip packages with a friend.

In other posts, I have told the world what a normal day was for a flight crew in the RVN.  We started our days before daylight with pre-flight, our mission, or missions, fairly set before takeoff. On many days, our mission would change as the day went on, by changing courses, or schedules, as needed to support, or lift, troops and supplies.

This is an example of one of those days ...

It was a simple day. We were taking off from our revetment with a "Clear Left, Clear Right" from the Gunner, and Crew Chief, hovering to the main strip, calling for clearance, and quickly going into transitional lift, then climbing to 1500'. 

Our day was set:  lift an LLRP team into an area near Nui Ba Ra, then fly some resupply to various units in the field. So we flew into Lai Khe to pickup the LRRP's and dropped them without problems. We then went back to Lai Khe, and loaded C's and water for the first resupply run.

After a couple of sorties, we got a call for an emergency Medivac.  We were in the area, so we turned around, turned on the speed, contacted the unit, and realized it was the LRRP's we had dropped earlier. 

We came in high and they popped smoke, then dropped down to the tree tops and came in hot to the small clearing.  We picked up a few tracers as we cleared the trees, but nothing heavy.

Carrying an Injured LRRP

The LRRP's had two wounded.  One was serious, with a sucking chest wound.  Another had schrapnel in his leg.

I helped load them up and gave the pilots a green light to DiDiMoa!  

We cleared the LZ and climbed quickly to 1500', heading at top speed to the Lai Khe Medivac pad.

My gunner and I swung around and checked our passengers. Both were fairly stable and it looked like they would make it home.

We landed shortly, and the medics came out to the pad to help evac our passengers. I was most worried about the guy with the chest wound as his pulse was not very stable.

I then told the pilots I wanted to check the ship out, before we started back to the resupply pad, so they hovered off the pad and set down on the ready pad nearby.

After going over the ship, I found no holes, and we took off to finish our missions for the day. 

The rest of the day went smooth, except for a short message from our headquarters, saying we had night On Call, so we came in.  I finished my daily inspection, and we settled into a night in our hammocks on the ship. 

It was about midnight when the pilots woke us up. We had a Black Cross mission, Black Cross from Lai Khe to Bein Hoa.  Black Cross meant transporting our dead, and it was done at night.

We landed on the Black Cross pad in Lai Khe and helped the guys load up the body bags. I could see the tags under the marker lights of the ship. One of them was the LRRP we had Medivac'd earlier that day...

As I sat down in the gun well, my Gunner said, "He has gotten a round trip ticket today, God Damn It!"  It is the simple statements that stick with people sometimes ... 

We can watch a politician spout paragraphs of hyperbole, and maybe one sentence will hit us as meaningful. Or as my old gunner would say, "They don't pay us enough to give a shit, but many a shit has been given!"

"Cool Kid"

Lance L. Pinamonte

U.S. Army - 1967 to 1970
67N30
Crew Chief/Door Gunner
Helicopter Mech.
Champagne Flight

Other Articles by Lance:

The CircleWhat's Wrong with Being Wrong?
Crew Chief's Memory of Thanksgiving '68
Enough
A Fearful America

A Nation Unwilling to Change

“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.