I have grown tired of lies and politics I have a story of a true hero.
Most people don’t realize leading men into battle knowing some will die, some will be wounded, and some will disappear; we assume they were captured or lost in the jungle. You will notice all the released prisonors by the north Vietnamese very few infranty soldiers even though we were the biggest number of soldiers missing in action.( we had so many men come and go that at 18 I should have written them down but I didn’t)
My lieutenant I thnk his name was Kelly was a little overwieght not much just little. He took losing soldiers very hard the look in eyes wasn’t fear but hurt. Most people have no comprehension of the fear of battle and to have over 24 firfights of all types is hard to explain. I recall the LT reading a letter from his wife about his two boys at home. It seems his wife decided to coach them in his absent. Both boys wanted to quit telling their mother she had no idea how to coach, they wanted their dad,he knew what he was doing. Each time he got letter he would read it out loud mostly but would always bring me into to listen.( i got two letters in the year both from my grandmother that didn’t like me) I can’t recall the date but I think March 21, 1968 all the dates of the firefights come together.
This day my platoon was walking point, but not my squad. Then all of a sudden, the world erupted into an explosion and automatic rifle fire from all directions. The point man and slack men were shot but not killed; they were screaming louder than I ever heard a human scream. I laid down my M-60 watching the grass in front of me start moving. I realized quickly they were upon us, but my machine gun mowed them down. Three of four more men were hit, and the screaming for a medic was everywhere. Some wounded soldiers crawled over me as I was firing, bleeding so bad that I thought I was hit. Laying in the trail, the LT crawled by my position, headed to see what was happening in the front. The chaos and the explosion of automatic rifle fire are deafening. Another wounded soldier crawls by, and again he is torn up and looks inhuman. The LT returned to the RTO (radio operator) and crawled back to the front. One of the wounded soldiers had tried to get the slack man when he was shot; he told me slack man was dead when he got to him, and the point man was further up. Everything became quiet for a few seconds, not a sound. Again the explosions of hand grenades all around my position from front and rear, then rifle fire again. The last wounded soldier came by my postion and told me the LT got to the pointman; the NVA soldiers slaughtered both. A day I will remember forever.
We could not get our dead this day; we had too many wounded and dead soldiers. The next day it was awful. I remember the LT all swollen and lifeless. My thoughts at the time and now were the whole country of Vietnam worth these two boys’ father.
It is foolish and wrong to mourn the men who died. Rather we should thank God that such men lived.
richardwboyanton 