History/Archival Sites for Vietnam Vets: Byron Edgington

"We Remember" ... and We Should Share

With the fortieth anniversary of the fall of Saigon approaching next April, there may possibly be a renewed interest in Vietnam veterans and their stories.

I compiled this short list of resources for my fellow vets who may wish to contribute their Vietnam stories, or to read the accounts of others.

The list is by no means exhaustive. A quick check of a local library or college history site will produce many more, and likely better resources. A few of these sites are taken from various college history departments.

Texas Tech seems to have a pretty thorough website dedicated to Vietnam vet stories, for example. Rutgers University does as well. 

If a local college offers veterans a chance to record their stories, we should do that. Many schools do, and it isn’t difficult to track them down.

One site includes methods for teaching students about the Vietnam conflict, and could be used for our grandkids’ teachers, or for those of us who’ve been asked to visit high schools. 

I was asked last year to visit a local school to talk about my Vietnam experience, and the time I spent with those kids was priceless. I encourage any veteran to seek out these opportunities, and take advantage of them.

With the war in Vietnam fading into history, and with current similar conflicts around the globe today, our stories must be told, because they still resonate. These history and archival sites should help keep our experience in Vietnam alive:

Memoirs From Nam
The Vietnam Graffiti Project
The Vietnam Center and Archive
The Vietnam Center and Archive/General
Research Military Records: Vietnam War
Military Resources: Vietnam War
Electronic Data Records: Military Objectives & Activities: Vietnam War
Digital Archive: Documents on Vietnam War
The Virtual Wall
The Wall of Faces
The Vietnam War Song Project
Veterans History Project
Vietnam War Student Project
Vietnam War Commemoration
Vietnam Era Veterans Oral Histories
The Vietnam War: Oral Histories
Rutgers: Oral History: Participate
Veterans History Project
University of Kentucky: Oral History Project

Byron Edgington

Byron Edgington

The SkyWriter

Website
Blog
Byron's Book

Other Articles by Byron Edgington:

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 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.

Vietnam: Arriving at the Truth: by Byron Edgington

Byron's UH-1 Huey

The view in the photo is from the cockpit of my UH-1, Huey, taken sometime in September 1970 in northern I Corps.

The photo shows American combat troops approaching a Huey that will fly them to another location. 

Not seen in this shot are troops loading my helicopter in similar fashion, directly behind me as the picture was taken.

A new website created by the Pentagon has a view of the war as well. Put on line several months ago, at a cost (thus far) of $15 million, the website strives to arrive at the 'truth' of American involvement in Vietnam, not from a political or ideological perspective, but to “assist a grateful nation” in thanking veterans and their families.

I applaud any effort to arrive at truth concerning our involvement in any war. The fact that the effort is being made is a hopeful sign that we refuse to bury details, however sordid, of our nation's foreign affairs and that we try not to repeat mistakes. 

I applaud, as well, the focus of the website, if it does indeed target American troops rather than the political minions, populists and military operatives who made many of the mistakes associated with Vietnam and our conflict there.

What bothers me about the website effort and its attempt to arrive at 'truth' about Vietnam, is the genesis of it. The troops the site celebrates should write their own stories of Vietnam, without fear or favor, and allow visitors to come to conclusions based on those narratives. 

As it is, the Pentagon and such luminaries as Tom Hayden and others are weighing in on the American effort in Vietnam, and once again the voices of those who fought and died in the paddies, jungles and hamlets of Vietnam.  Those critical voices are being relegated to the periphery.

Also, a connection should be made, however tenuous, to our efforts in Vietnam and the misadventure in Iraq. While it is true that any effort to connect the two conflicts is immediately fraught with political and ideological spin, that doesn't mean we should avoid potential historical references. 

Those connections may help in a courageous and transparent attempt to arrive at the 'truth' we claim to seek. Looking out a cockpit window shows only a partial view. History and its explication widens that view, if we're willing to look.

Byron Edgington

Byron Edgington

The SkyWriter

Website
Blog
Byron's Book

Other Articles by Byron Edgington:

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 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.

Scouts, Dogs, and Booby Traps

Dog Handler - Vietnam War

by Tony Chliek

Many times when we went out on patrols from FSB STUART, a Kit Carson scout led our patrols. 

Kit Carson scouts are former Viet Cong or North Vietnamese soldiers that were our guides and interpreters. 

The scouts walked point with one or two of the regular point men and because of his first hand knowledge of enemy tactics, he was able to locate mines, booby traps, ambushes and snipers long before we ever could.

Other times, a dog handler and his German Shepherd would accompany us on patrols. 

The dog was great because he could smell trouble, literally. He could pick up the scent of the enemy and lead us right to them. We captured numerous VC because of both the Kit Carson scout and the dog.

One day we were patrolling through a heavily wooded area around a village and the Kit Carson found a suspected VC hiding. He gave up without any difficulty. We made him walk point with the Kit Carson and our point man. 

We figured if he lead us into an ambush, he would be the first to go. As we walked along, the VC started pointing out a lot of freshly dug punji pits right on the trail we were following. (Maybe he knew where they were because he dug them).

Punji Pit Trap - Vietnam War

Punji pits like the ones he uncovered are extremely nasty booby traps. The simplest pit type was a hole about 20 to 30cm deep. 

The floor of this trap was then set with punji stakes, which could easily pierce the canvas and leather jungle boot. 

For added misery the spikes could be smeared with poison or human excrement to induce blood poisoning, or worse. 

There were many variations, which allowed the spikes to attack the sides of the leg. This was particularly favored after the introduction of the reinforced-soled jungle boot.

On another patrol one day, I stepped into a small punji pit. I felt like I was going to have a heart attack because I knew exactly what had happened. Fortunately, the bamboo stakes were old and rotted so they just crumbled when my foot and leg hit them. I didn't even get a splinter.

Another booby trap I encountered was a trip wire. Trip wires were connected to all types of booby traps like the hand grenade in the picture below.

Trip Wire Booby Trap

One day we were dropped off in the Ho Bo Woods for a “Reconnaissance In Force” (RIF) patrol with one other company. Enemy activity had been spotted so we were sent there to see if we could find them.

Ho Bo Woods weren't exactly what you would call woods any more. The area used to be a stronghold for the VC and NVA so the woods had actually been leveled to eliminate hiding places.

While patrolling the area, my foot got caught on something. I looked down and saw it tangled in a wire. I froze and called out that I was tangled in a trip wire. 

Now you figured the guys would back up, since there was the possibility of an explosion, but no, a couple of guys immediately came over to check it out. They followed the wire and discovered that it wasn’t connected to anything.  It was probably an old trip wire, or maybe a piece of wire that was just lying around. I spent a lot of time looking down after that.

Another day we were patrolling around one of the villages close to our FSB. We were walking on the berm that separated the rice paddies like the guys in the picture.

All of a sudden I dropped straight down into a hole in the water that was over my head. Since I was carrying all that equipment, I sunk like a rock. 

Walking the Berm

I reached up to try and grab something to pull myself out and someone grabbed my hands and pulled me up. My head went right back into my helmet which had been floating on the surface of the water. 

With some help, I was able to climb back out of the hole. 

It seemed I had fallen into a small well that was overgrown with the grasses that grew on the berms. Since it was overgrown, I just didn’t see it. 

This incident got quite a laugh from everyone ...

About Tony Chliek:

Tony Chliek

I was drafted into the United States Army on May 6, 1968 at the ripe old age of 19 years, 6 months and 2 days. 

Government policy at the time was to draft all men into the military at 19 ½ years of age if they hadn’t already joined, or had a deferment of some kind. 

I almost joined earlier that year, but backed out to take my chances with the draft. Well, that was it, I became the property of the United States Army.  

I graduated from AIT with the rank of PFC, issued my orders for Vietnam.

I was assigned to the 25th Infantry Division at Cu Chi. After that week at Cu Chi, I was assigned to the 2nd platoon, Bravo Company, 2nd Battalion, 12 Infantry, 25th Infantry Division; B 2/12.


Also by Tony Chliek:

A Hot LZ

“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.

A Return to Vietnam: by Byron Edgington

Byron Edgington's Return Visit to Vietnam - 1992

For veterans of the war in Vietnam considering a return visit, I encourage you to do so. 

I went back in 1992, and the experience was not only healing, it was energizing, fun, revealing and filled with gratifying insights.

It was, admittedly, one of the stranger experiences of my life when the airplane stopped at the gate, and I looked out the window at a sign that said: "Welcome to Hanoi International Airport."

It was a bit unsettling, but oddly soothing in a way, to know that Vietnam might be just another tourist destination. (The sign was in English.) Indeed, many of the people I interacted with spoke English. This was one of the first revelations. Vietnamese kids study English very early in school. Indeed, I was told that more than ninety percent of Vietnamese people are literate.

I stayed in Hanoi two days, visited Hoan Kiem Lake in downtown Hanoi made famous by a certain Naval aviator who parachuted into it in October 1967, a fellow named John McCain. I drove by the old central prison where McCain spent the next six years as a POW, the infamous Hanoi Hilton. I went to the mausoleum where Ho Chi Minh lies in state, guarded day and night by the same North Vietnamese soldiers whose fathers likely took pot shots at me.

Speaking of which, the above photograph was taken near the national park forty miles from Hanoi. The fellow seated to my right was a retired NVA soldier. 

In the course of our conversation, we came to realize that he and I shared the experience of war. He’d been posted in and around Khe Sanh and the northern end of the AShau Valley, the same areas I flew, and at the same time. 

Sitting next to my old enemy, I realized—as I’m sure he did—that twenty years before we posed for this picture I may very well have flown my Huey over his position in South Vietnam, and he may very well have put my aircraft in his gunsights.

With a car and my interpreter, I traveled around my old AO, visited what’s left of Camp Eagle, (my old base), and toured the old city of Hue’. From Hue’ & Phu Bai I drove south, across the Hai Van Pass, into Da Nang, then to Marble Mountain and Hoi An. The accommodations were first rate, roads (mostly) excellent and when I went in October, the weather was perfect.

The people I met were incredibly friendly, welcoming, warm and happy to see a returning GI. They were of another generation, mostly, so the war was a memory to them at best, a lesson in school for the most part. For those who lived through it, they seemed willing to discuss it, but preferred to move on to what the new Vietnam looked like.

So despite the fact that Vietnam is still very much a communist, one-party country, it has recovered very well from the years of war and sacrifice, and is taking its place in South Asia as an economy to be reckoned with. 

My return visit was a high point of my life. I encourage anyone who served there to go back. It’s a trip you won’t regret taking. 

Byron Edgington

Byron Edgington

The SkyWriter

Other Articles by Byron Edgington:

The War That Will Not Let Us RestWar: A Waste of Youth
The Right Seat is the Wrong Seat
Jim, Frank, and The Snake
Smokey, The Alcoholic Pup

Book:
The Sky Behind Me: A Memoir of Flying & Life 

Byron's Website

Byron's Blog

“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.

Life in the Jungle

By Michael Lansford

Vietnamese Jungle

I have a few extra things for you to tell on the blog. We can call it life in the jungle, if that's ok.

Those of us that lived it know all too well how hard it was. It was a daily struggle. Everything out there was either predator or prey. No easy life. 

First and foremost it was the heat, but always an odor that smelled of death 24/7. The smell of burnt bodies is one we will never, ever forget. That has a smell that is never forgotten.

Every stream we crossed, we were covered with leeches. Best way to remove them was with anything hot. If you pulled them off, it tore your skin bad enough that infection set in right away, so a lighter came in real handy.

There were all types of snakes, too, Cobras, etc., but the most feared one for me was what we called a 2-step. Only name I knew, but the name fit. If it bit you, two steps later you died. Lots of rock apes there and that's just what they were. They threw rocks at you. Weird feeling.

Only time we bathed was when it rained and we washed everything in one way or another, sometimes whether we liked it or not. No creature comforts out there. You didn't wear anything that smelled good, because the scent was picked up by the enemy and whatever else was out there. The jungle had it's own smell and if you smelled different, you became a target.

Napalm had a smell all it's own. Bad stuff. You didn't even have to be hit with it to be killed. If you were close, it pulled all the air around it out, just like a vacuum cleaner. Took the oxygen right out of your body. You basically died from lack of air.

White phosphorous was almost as bad. Bad thing about it was, when it burned, there was no way to put it out. If it got on your skin, you either dug it out, or it burned through, until it came out the other side.

Lots of booby traps everywhere, but the longer you were out, the more you learned to read the jungle. At night, the jungle had it's own natural sounds. Rule #1 was, learn those sounds and the jungle would let you know what was out there. If it got quiet, then something, or someone, was out there and the jungle let you know how close they were, too.

At night out there, it was so dark you relied on your other instincts to survive. There are parts of the jungle so thick, we called it a triple canopy jungle, because the sunlight couldn't get in. Total blackout. Our safest time out there was when the moon was up. Gave us some kind of lighting.

There were also what we called pressure mines. If you stepped on one, as long as you didn't release the weight on it, you were ok. Problem is, you couldn't get away from it. No way to jump off. It was a matter of when you decided to not live. No escape. The blast caused so much trauma, there was no way to get you back to Medics. Only you decided when you wanted to go. Hard choice, but you only had one.

My biggest fear of all were the Tigers. Out there, he was THE Man. Had all the advantages, stealth, speed, strength, camo, you name it, he owned it, and if he was hungry and you were close, then it was lunch time and by the time you knew, it you were gone. That's probably what happened to many MIA's.

I only saw one, but I saw lots of tracks. This one came up on a fire base we were on and set off a trip flare. Man was he beautiful and huge. You didn't take any pics at night, as any light drew a sniper right to you. So I decided to start putting food out for him. The guys thought I had lost it, but as I explained to them, as long as he wasn't hungry, then we weren't on the lunch menu.

Tigers had an area they patrolled and they marked their territory. Plus, I told the guys that as long as he was out there, Charlie wasn't, so we could all sleep better. He came around for about a week or so, but he never came in to visit. His tracks were huge. Just guessing anywhere from 500 lbs or up. Perimeter wire meant nothing to this bad boy. Nothing was safe from the king.

I heard there were elephants somewhere, but I never saw any. Lots of water buffalo though. Man, they sure hated Americans. Kids could crawl all over them, but not a G.I. He would stomp a mudhole in you and make you like it.

Also lots of bugs out there with no names. Mosquitoes were brutal. Long as you didn't bathe, they weren't as bad. Guess they didn't like the smell either, but we couldn't smell anything ourselves. Just smelled like the jungle and the worse we were, the safer we were.

Never, ever have anything shiny out there, either, which was a problem for me as I was blonde.  I used a green T-shirt to cover my hair. Now days, they call them do-rags, or something like that. All I knew was, it helped keep me alive.

Rats there were as big as small dogs and very aggressive. They came looking for you. I remember this one fire base in the Valley that had a small stream beside it. Not much of a stream, but after blowing about two cases of grenades in one spot -- poof! A swimming hole to clean up in. Only problem was, Charlie didn't take long to zero in with mortars and an occasional sniper, but we had some also. Our snipers never missed. Bad side was again the leeches, but it was a trade off for us.

Here's a story about flying in new people, or FNG's. I went through it too. It was kind of a welcome to The Nam. Pilots would fly really high and then start fiddling with the knobs above them. FNG's didn't know it was just the radio, so panic set in and the old timers went along.

Suddenly, the pilots cut power and we started dropping like a rock, just long enough to get the new guys' attention, then pull collective in it and bank real hard, so you were facing straight down into the ground. Your first thought was, "I'm going to fall out and die!" But the G-force would keep you in. Something you had to learn. Didn't take long. Then the crew would look at the new people and say, "Welcome to The Nam". Kind of an initiation. 

Perfume River Bridge

Sometimes they would fly under this bridge over the Perfume river around Hue and scare the hell out of everybody. But man, could our pilots fly. Nothing they couldn't do with those birds.

I remember one time, we had captured some weapons and I traded what was called a grease gun for a ride in a Cobra. Stupidest idea I ever had. Pilot put me through all the gun runs, etc., and I definitely couldn't wait to get out. Learned that lesson the hard way.

Forgot to mention a couple of things about life in the jungle. Monsoon season was tuff. It was just like the movie, "Forrest Gump", what he said about all the rain and how it was. You never were dry, ever. 

During monsoon season is when Charlie moved most of their supplies through all the swollen rivers. Scary times, because if you weren't on high ground up where we were in I Corp, you might just drown. The bad guys could really get up close and personal then.

CJ: Michael, I remember Doug writing to me about the Monsoon season. His said his feet, like a lot of the guys he treated, had what he called "jungle rot". Something he said you lived with all during the rainy season.

So true. You never ever were dry and jungle rot made things even harder. Your feet swelled up so much you couldn't get your boots off.

Another item was, you learned to live off the land when no supplies could get in. Amazing what tasted good when you were starving. True what they say, when you are really hungry, whatever you eat tastes like what your brain is hungry for.

Had a lot of things that tasted like chicken and steak out there. Lots of plant life to live off of, if you knew what to look for. Older Vets knew this and passed it on. The saying was, "Learn from the Vets, listen to them, and you just might walk out of there alive." So true.

When planes carrying Agent Orange flew over, you got covered with it. Not long after, the jungle died and it stayed dead. There was nowhere to hide from it. Winds carried it for miles. If you were there, you were in it.

Michael Lansford

Anyway, that was just a small part of jungle life we lived ...

Other Posts by Michael Lansford:

In My Own Words: Part 1

In My Own Words: Part 2

Part 3: The KIA

Hill 937: Part 4

Coming Home

Remembering The Wall

"Leavings at The Wall"
Life Prepared me for Vietnam
FNG Initiation and Humor



“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

Humor in Vietnam: by John Puzzo

John Puzzo

Things happen that make us aware of our humanity, even in the demanding world of an Army Ranger.

Nothing illustrates that better than when peculiar and strange things happened -- things that could have occurred in no other setting than a long-range patrol in the Highlands. They became all the more memorable for that very reason ...

Nicknames ...

I remember once, when lightning struck the side of a mountain where a team had set up an ambush. 

The lightning set off all of the Claymore mines the team had set, arced through the radio, down the handset held by our Lieutenant, and then exited through his jungle boots, singeing his skivvies, and leaving his hair smoking. 

'Lightning Bolt' was none the worse for wear, except for a new nickname, a few minor bruises, and some burnt hair, but the team had to be extracted because the radio was cooked.

On another mission, a team went on high alert and everyone grabbed the clackers to their Claymores, when the guy on night watch heard footsteps coming into their night position just before dawn. 

He roused the team, brought up the artillery net, air assets were mustered for gunship support and extraction and, just before things were about to get noisy, a rooster clucked into view.

We might have eaten the feathery beast under other circumstances. The whole experience earned our high alert team member the nickname: "Rooster".

Both Ways

by David Hamm

I joined the LRRP's in October, 1968. One of the ways we relieved the tension, boredom, and sometimes sheer terror of how we lived was through humor, often directed at ourselves. I can think of these things, even to this day and it makes me smile.

One of the incidents involved a Green Beret named Foster, who was assigned to our unit for a while. 

Our team was taking a break during a mission and monitoring the radio, when we heard Foster call Zero in a highly excited state. He said their team had found a high-speed trail that looked like it was heavily used. 

When the RTO back at Zero tried to get the location of the trail, there was a long pause. Foster didn't seem to understand what information was wanted and kept repeating that it was a high-speed trail.

Finally, the RTO got through to him by asking him which way the trail went. There was another long pause ... and Foster replied excitedly, "It goes both ways."

The RTO could hardly contain himself and asked him to say again which way the trail went. "Both ways! The trail goes both ways, sir."

By this time, our team was literally rolling on the ground, laughing (silently, of course). After this, when someone would ask you where you were going, you said, "Both ways, both ways."

John J. Puzzo
K Company (Ranger)
75th Infantry (Airborne)
United States Army 1968 - 1971

[Excerpts from the book, "The Highlanders In the Vietnam War", which was written by my good friend, John J. Puzzo. If you haven't read John's book yet, I suggest that you do.].

Other Articles by John Puzzo:

Poem, "Waves"
The Lantern

“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.