Walt Hardester: Vietnam Medic

Birth Place: Norfolk, VA

There was once a man just in his prime, who thought retiring early would just be fine. Then one day he pondered a fiery scarlet sunset alone at the helm of his sailboat. He thought to himself, I should take a picture of this to show my friends back home.

But alas, being a photographer he knew a picture would never give the viewer the smell of the ocean air. A mere photo could not let the viewer feel the wind as it pushed his boat effortlessly, or hear his boat as she creaked happily riding the swells.

It was at that moment he realized that sailing the wonders of nature must be shared. But, no one seems to have the time anymore. Then he said out loud, to no one but the dolphins bumping his bow and doing playful flips in the air, "Natures wonders can never be really appreciated if we don't take the time to notice, and share." It matters not which media we choose.

The Medic

He remembers most the faces, nameless faces.
Not the catastrophic injuries that brought them to his now.
A blank stare of utter disorientation, non verbal,
On the next a look of disbelief, “Tell me I’m gonna be ok, Doc.”
Terror with realization of the reality of what has happened.
Fear, looking for hope when there is none to give.
Loyalty, asking to be patched up so he can return to his comrades.
Faces of youth snatched away.
Too many last words heard spoken were of Mother.
I’ll have to cry later, right now I’m just too busy.

©2008 Walt Hardester


This one is for all my Brothers and Sisters in arms ... then and now

"Like a woman who has never given birth, the man who has never faced death and inflicted death, will for all of his life feel somehow not quite complete."  [by Gustav Hasford, author of "The Short Timers", which was later made into the film. "Full Metal Jacket"]

The Point Man

Fatigues have turned from green to brown,
From lying on the fetid ground.
Walking in paddies the feet do sink,
Ants, leeches, and three step snakes.
Can't I go home for goodness sakes.
A nasty pit with Punji Stakes.
A "Booby Trap," the line I see,
Across the path in front of me.
I raise my fist to tell my mates,
To lightly step, for death awaits.
Oh no, another hill to climb,
The "World" some other place in time.
Trained to do all that I can,
To guard myself and fellow man.
No don't hand to me that joint,
Because today, I have the point.

©2007 Walt Hardester

Walt is a brother, father and grandfather, patented inventor, decorated Viet-Nam Veteran, published author, poet, freelance photo journalist, Solo sailor, musician, expert marksman, Paramedic and Respiratory Therapist, Patriot, Nature lover, and oft times, Serious Dumb Ass.

Articles about Walt have appeared in the Northeast Georgian, Tallahassee Democrat, and DEMA trade show news.

Walt has been interviewed on CNN, TWC, and the syndicated broadcast network, Jefferson Broadcasting. But ... I'm still trying for that elusive "hole in one".

"I think being a Medic in Viet-Nam was the most important thing I have done in my life." ~ Walt Hardester




“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

In Honor of Memorial Day

This came to me in an email this morning from my brother-in-law, Dennis Kempf.  It's a poignant reminder and I would like to share it with all of you in honor of Memorial Day. 

The Vietnam War: The Vietnam Memorial Wall

There are 58,267 names now listed on that polished black wall, including those added in 2010. 

The names are arranged in the order in which they were taken from us by date and, within each date, the names are alphabetized.  It's hard to believe it is thirty-six years since the last casualties.

Beginning at the apex on panel 1E and going out to the end of the East wall, appearing to recede into the earth (numbered 70E - May 25, 1968), then resuming at the end of the West wall, as the wall emerges from the earth (numbered 70W - continuing May 25, 1968) and ending with a date in 1975. Thus the war's beginning and end meet.  The war is complete, coming full circle, yet broken by the earth that bounds the angle's open side and contained within the earth itself.

The first known casualty was Richard B. Fitzgibbon, of North Weymouth, Massachusetts, listed by the U.S. Department of Defense as having been killed on June 8, 1956.  His name is listed on the Wall with that of his son, Marine Corps Lance Cpl. Richard B. Fitzgibbon III, who was killed on Sept. 7, 1965.

* There are three sets of fathers and sons on the Wall.

* 39,996 on the Wall were just 22 or younger.

* The largest age group, 8,283, were just 19 years old

* 3,103 were 18 years old.

* Twelve soldiers on the Wall were 17 years old.

* Five soldiers on the Wall were 16 years old.

* One soldier, PFC Dan Bullock, was 15 years old.

* 997 soldiers were killed on their first day in Vietnam.

* 1,448 soldiers were killed on their last day in Vietnan.

* 31 sets of brothers are on the Wall.  That means, thirty one sets of parents lost two of their sons.

* 54 soldiers on the Wall attended Thomas Edison High School in Philadelphia.  I wonder why there were so many from one school.

* Eight Women are on the Wall.  Nursing the wounded.

* 244 soldiers were awarded the Medal of Honor during the Vietnam War;  153 of them are on the Wall.

* Beallsville, Ohio, with a population of only 475 lost 6 of her sons.

* West Virginia had the highest casualty rate per capita in the nation. There are 711 West Virginians on the Wall. 

* The Marines of Morenci -- They led some of the scrappiest high school football and basketball teams that the little Arizona copper town of Morenci (pop. 5,058) had ever known and cheered. They enjoyed roaring beer busts, and in quieter moments, they rode horses along the Coronado Trail, and stalked deer in the Apache National Forest.  In the patriotic camaraderie typical of Morenci's mining families, the nine graduates of Morenci High School all enlisted as a group in the Marine Corps. Their service began on Independence Day, 1966.  Only three ever returned home.

* The Buddies of Midvale - LeRoy Tafoya, Jimmy Martinez, and Tom Gonzales, were all boyhood friends and lived on three consecutive streets in Midvale, Utah, on Fifth, Sixth and Seventh avenues. They lived only a few hundred yards apart. They played ball at the adjacent sandlot ball field. And they all went to Vietnam..

In a span of 16 dark days in late 1967, all three would be killed.  LeRoy was killed on Wednesday, Nov. 22, the fourth anniversary of John F. Kennedy’s assassination. Jimmy died less than 24 hours later on Thanksgiving Day. Tom was shot dead assaulting the enemy on Dec. 7, Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day.

* The most casualties for a single day, 245 deaths, was on January 31, 1968.

* The most casualties, 2,415 deaths, for a single month was May 1968.  That's 2,415 dead in a single month.

We will never forget ...

“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

Vietnam 1970: Chuck Kinler

Combat Medic

Chuck Kinler

Medic

3rd Platoon B Co 2/12 cav  1970-71

I landed in Vietnam in November of 1970, and now it seems so long ago. I came from Ft. Polk with a one-week leave and then I was off to Oakland to board a Seaboard World Seaboard World Jet for Nam.

I had orders for the 1st Calvary Division. I was a 91A, PFC medic. I stood in line processing in and they asked if anyone there could type. I raised my hand, and I ended up spending the next five weeks sitting behind a typewriter processing people in and out. But the inevitable finally came and I was on my way in an aircraft (I believe the called it a Hurkey Bird) to Camp Gorvad, just outside of a town called Phouc Vinh in Vietnam.

I was soon assigned to Headquarters Company 2/12. After checking in to the orderly room, I went to the Aid Station and met the Doctor and Platoon Sergeant, both names I do not remember. That night I saw a movie while sitting on a bunker and we all got pretty loaded that night. I remember, the beer was Schlitz.

Two days later, it was Christmas. I helped out on a couple of sick calls and did some hands-on training with field medicine and IV’s.

New Years Eve day 1970-71 will forever be etched in my brain. It was my first day in the bush. I hooked up with my new Platoon and I was to spend one day with their current medic, and then he was going to be the CP medic.

It was an operation based on information that American prisoners were being held at a camp near Dau Tieng. Everyone was anxious to go. We flew by Chinook to Dau Tieng, where we loaded onto Hueys and combat assaulted into a green LZ. Then we got hit real hard by God only knows what, maybe NVA, maybe just Charlie, but it wasn’t a pretty sight. It was especially bad to a young 19 year-old FNG who had to crawl forward and help sort out the wounded.

I remember that day went by so fast. Spotter planes shot Willy Peter rockets to mark the target. Jets and choppers came and bombed and strafed, and then they bombed some more. Bullets and RPG’s were flying everywhere. That day, I also realized you could see a B-40 when it flies. Dust offs came and went more than could be counted. The shooting stopped and then it started again, until the whole day had gone by. 

 I went through five packs of cigarettes and tagged at least ten grunts who weren’t even in my platoon, but I didn’t know, because it was still only my first day and I didn’t know anyone. I wasn’t really scared -- I didn’t have time to be scared, and the wounded just kept coming. I remember a LT. Walker. Though I knew him not, his body passed through my arms on his way to the evac chopper. I remember he was the worst with a severe head wound.

Then they said there was to be a cease fire that night because of New Years. Waves of helicopters came in to take us out. There were piles of rucksacks on the ground that they set on fire. I guess you might say we got our asses kicked, but I don’t really know. I do know, I had the blood of ten or maybe fifteen different men on me.

I was on the last wave out. My cherry was broken. That morning, I got on a chopper and I was 19 years young. That evening, as we flew away from Tay Ninh Province, I was 19 years old ...

Chuck Kinler



** Thank you for sharing, Chuck Kinler.  You are among friends who care. Welcome Home.  Your friend,
~CJ



“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

Hello, America, You Listening?

I know war is bad.  I know war is wrong.  Hell, war hurts.   But here I am, and so are you, caught in the crosshairs of those who aim their hate at America and everything and everyone we love.   Right now, our freedom, our people, our very beliefs, are being threatened in the streets of nearly every major city in the world.  Hello, America, you listening?

What frightens me even more is to see Americans protesting again, like back in the Vietnam Era.  There are even Americans -- and I say  the word, Americans, hesitantly here, preferring to think of them as terrorists, themselves -- who show up at military funerals, wanting to protest there.  These are our fallen heroes, America.  They fought and died earning the very freedoms you dishonor them with, by your protesting ... that's just not right, and every time I hear about it, I feel like someone sucker-punched me in the gut.  Hello, America, you listening?

These funerals are so much more than laying a soldier to rest.  These are our husbands and wives, our sons and daughters, nieces, nephews, brothers, sisters, grandchildren ... these were our future doctors, teachers, lawyers, and our one-day neighbors and friends.  These funerals bury so much more than soldiers, people.  These are America's young, who gave up their hopes, their dreams, and all of their tomorrows to do what they felt was right.  Thank them and show your respect by allowing their families to bury them in peace.  Hello, America, you listening?

Everyone hates war. We've all given till it hurts, and I agree, we should choose our battles wisely.  But people, we're not always given a choice.  We have to defend ourselves, our country, and our beliefs when they're threatened and, if we have to fight, we have to fight to win.  With the constant threat of terrorism, we're facing pure evil, right here in our own lifetime.  Osama Bin Laden may be gone, but we aren't out of the woods yet.  Get your heads out of the sand, people!  We don't know what's going to happen next ... hello, America, you listening?

Take a few minutes, everyone.  Thank a soldier, hug a vet.  Put the focus where it belongs.  You will never change anything by protesting -- you're only making things worse by being terrorists, too.  Don't you see, there are better solutions?  Far more can be accomplished by voting into office those who feel as you do.  Change has to come from the top.   "If you can't be part of the solution, at least don't be part of the problem ..."

God Bless America ... are you listening?


“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

In Honor of Life: Memorial Day 2011

Old Woman in Cemetery

In Honor of Life

by CJ Heck

It was Memorial Day and as she did every year, Lidia Cleary drove to Eternity Acres Cemetery with three of the nicest spring bouquets she could find.   She took very seriously what she called, "My private time to grieve for those I've lost to war."  It was her way to honor them and show how much she cared. 

One bouquet was for Great-Grampa, Mack "PJ" Mullerton, who died during the first world war.  

The second was for Uncle Theo Tarns. He was killed when his plane was shot down in the second great war.  She had never met Uncle Theo, but she was still fiercely proud of him and, as with great-grampa, forever indebted to him for his service.  

The last bouquet was always the most difficult.  She always made sure it was the largest, most colorful of the three.  This bouquet had to be special, because it was for Daddy.

Lidia was only six when she hugged Steven Cleary's neck tightly for the last time at the airport in Stewartsville.  

She remembered crying and begging him to stay.  "Please don't go, Daddy.  I'll miss you and so will Mommy.  Please stay.  We need you."  She knew he was just as sad to leave them.  She saw him wipe his eyes when he turned to hug and kiss her mother.

Steven had been killed in Vietnam, a decorated infantry soldier, and a hero.  Her mother, Sarah, had eventually framed his medals and they hung on the wall beside his picture, over the fireplace.  

Lidia remembered how sad that time had been, after the family learned he had been killed.  But as sad as she had been, she had never felt so helpless, as hearing her mother sob into her pillow at night and not knowing how to comfort her. 

Lidia was so lost in her thoughts that she nearly missed Uncle Theo's grave.  She had to turn and walk back two rows and she chided herself for not paying more attention.  

Her prayers over, she finished talking to Uncle Theo.  Now it was time to find Daddy.  Her heart always felt like it was in her throat as she walked the steep path to the upper section where Daddy rested in the Cleary family plot.

Just as she was nearly at the top, she saw an elderly woman bending over one of the older headstones to the left of the walkway. Lidia stopped, hoping the woman wasn't about to topple over. She watched in silence as the woman tucked a folded paper under a vase of roses on the flat marble headstone and then adjusted a small American flag. 

As the woman stood, she suddenly turned and their eyes met. Lidia could almost feel the woman's thoughts when she saw the pain in her eyes. Then just as quickly, the moment was gone and the woman had turned away.

She watched as the frail woman walked slowly down the path towards the entrance gate. Lidia was stunned.  She could see she was crying, but she was also smiling. 

Lidia felt compelled to go over to the headstone and read whatever it was the woman had tucked under the vase.

"To my husband, my lover, my friend: I will always love you. I hope you like the roses. All my love forever, Your Maeve"

Lidia read the short note and, now crying herself, the words filled her with a new awareness. She could imagine the wheels of time turning the days and months to years, until suddenly, you realize, it's been a whole lifetime a loved one has been gone. 

Then one day, like a bucket with a hole, you see grief sifting slowly through, and instead of mourning their death, you begin to celebrate what they meant to you in life. 

Lidia closed her eyes and replaced the letter in its home under the vase of roses.  She quietly thanked the old woman as she placed the third bouquet on the headstone for Daddy. 

As Lidia thanked Steven Adam Cleary once more for being her father, she also remembered all of the love and the good times they had together. 

Now when Lidia cried, she could also smile -- and this time, they were tears of joy.

“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

Comment: God Bless the Marines

The following comment was left this evening on an article written by David Westfall on March 30, 2011, God Bless the Marines.  It's from Darlene Brandafino-Claus, the mother of the Crew Chief on the flight that crashed at K-Bay.  She did not include an email address on her comment so I could not write to thank her, but the comment was so heartfelt that I wanted to make sure everyone gets a chance to read it.   My thanks go to Darlene.  May Ronnie have a fast recovery -- Welcome Home, Ronnie.  And a special thank you again to David for writing such a wonderful article.

****

I am the mother of Cpl. Ronnie Brandafino, the Crew Chief on the flight that crashed at K-Bay on March 29th.   Ronnie was three weeks away from completing his 5-year committment to the Marine Corps, and he was due to come home for good on April 17th!

He has been my hero for so many years of his life.  He was even before the Marine Corps, but most definetly since joining and especially now, as I watch him struggle through the tragedy and the injuries he was left with.

I'm eternally grateful to his Marine Corps family who stood by our sides, to the Doctors who saved his life and his leg, though he has a long road ahead of him.   He is special and strong and motivated to heal and walk.

Thank you for your kind words and thoughts.  Ronnie is currently healing at Walter Reed and will move over to Bethesda when he is ready. He is an amazing young man, an Amazing son, and an amazing Marine. His fallen brother is carried in his heart -- they were like brothers.   In every picture of them, they are laughing. Jon's family is forever in my thoughts and prayers.

~ Darlene Brandafino-Claus
Very Proud Marine Mom x2


“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