Leaving for the World - 1971

On Thanksgiving day, 1971, I was rushing to outprocess and leave Vietnam that night. Due to a hunting accident my 12 year old brother was in, my DROS date was moved up a week. The night before leaving I was on duty. I remember an ambulance driver crying as he hugged me and said goodbye Since this happened so quickly I didn't have the opportunity to say the things I would have like to have said or to say any goodbyes. How I regret that. Never a day passes where I don't think of those I was stationed at the 24th Evac, especially on Thanksgiving day. Although our paths crossed for a very short time, memories of them are burned in my mind forever and as time passes I miss them even more. It is so overwhelming and I feel so lost and confused. I cannot put into words how much I miss them. They were my friends, my family, etc. I just wanted to say how much I miss them. So as this Thanksgivng day ends, I'll keep you even closer in my thoughts and prayers.

My sister's death.

This has been a horrible week. My 56 year old sister was found dead at home on Monday morning at 8:17 a.m. They believe she died on Sunday night around 8:00 p.m. Her body was released around noon after they determined that her death was probably caused by a new medication but it could have been a result of a heart attack or stroke. When they released her body I and two of my brothers helped pick her up off the floor with the attendants from the mortuary and put her in the bag. I then helped put put her feet in and cover them with the bag so it could be zipped up. Doing this reminded me even more of the 24th and the many many times I prepared and bagged those killed in the field or who died at the hospital.

My sister was single and never had any children. She has served cookies at the VA, baked and was active with some veteran organizations. Although I never really spoke of the war she would give me Army pens, gave me some very good movies regarding Vietnam, discretely passed me a Kleenex when taps were played and within the last couple months gave me a book signed by the Vietnam Veteran who wrote it. I just can't believe this has happened to someone so wonderful and caring.

I wanted to go to Mass this morning but was unable to do so. Vietnam and my fallen brothers has been in my mind and I prayed for them but have been so overwhelmed I could not do what I wanted to do this Veterans Day.

I want let my fellow Veterans that I am thinking of them and they are in my prayers as well as those who have passed. And to my sister I want to say thank you for the many acts of kindness and that you will always be in my thoughts and prayers.

The Parade

I was living in Denver at the end of the Gulf War and my mom called to tell me that there was going to be a parade on July 4th. That parade was going to be with Gulf War service men and women as well as current service men and women. Former service men and women from WW2, Korea and Vietnam, would also be in the parade. My mom gave me the number and name of a person to call to participate in the parade as we were coming back to Omaha for July 4th. Over the next month or so she kept calling me to make sure I was going to participate in the parade. But that wasn't something I could bring myself to do. Coming back to the states after Vietnam was terrible expereince. There was no welcome and there were people here in the States that had no problem telling me we lost the war, were drug addicts, baby killers, etc. I tried never to speak of Vietnam or serving there and was full of anger and held everything in. I longed to be back in Vietnam and missed those I served with at the 24th, my family.

I was in Omaha July 4th and my families home was about 10 blocks from the parade route. They were getting ready to go and kept on me until I finally agreed to go. At the parade there was a huge contigent of Gulf War and current service men and women. The applause, screaming and support was wonderful and full of energy. It was much the same for the WW2 veterans. However, when the Korean War veterans from the "Forgotten War" marched through the applause, etc. was more subdued. Then in the distance I saw the contigent of Vietnam Veterans coming our way. And I noticed just how quiet the acknowledgement for this group was. A marked difference. I was also amazed at some of those Vietnam Veterans marching in the parade. I knew a number of them and worked with a number of them but had no idea they served in Vietnam. And as they grew closer I noticed the pain and suffering on their faces and I was overwhelmed with sadness. I knew what they were feeling and the pain they were in. I wondered why the fuck I even went. I knew it would be a mistke.

Later at home my brother stated he was at the end of the parade. He spoke of just how emotional some of the Vietnam Veterans were. He spoke of the anger some of them expressed, some of them crying, etc. He said one of them was visibly angry and stated that all of this was "Too little, too late." Hearing this not only confirmed my feelings watching the parade but brought me even more sadness.

I often hear that those service members who served in war after Vietnam have the support and respect of the American public and will never be treated as Vietnam Veterans. This is as it should be as those who serve and fight for our Country only deserve our thanks, respect, support and appreciation.

After all these years I still long to be back in Vietnam with those I served with and I miss them, but I know I can never go back but my mind doesn't seem to understand. One thing for certain, I will never forget those brave young men and women who served in Vietnam and they will always be in my thoughts and prayers.

Iraq War is Over

Today President Obama announced that the Iraq War is basically over and all service men and women will be back in the States by Christmas. As time goes on I'm sure we'll hear more about it ending and there will be a lot of discussion on whether or not we lost or won, will Iraq succeed without us, etc. But I think one thing is for certain, that regardless of how one felt about the war, there was always support for our troops and this Country appreciated their sacrifice and service. Our troops have always been in my thoughts and prayers and I continue to pray for them and their families. May God keep them safe until they return.

Next Stop - Ft. Carson

A couple days ago I posted a video I saw on You Tube honoring those who served in a medical or dustoff capacity in Vietnam. It has really affected me and I feel such sadness and loss right now. It also got me thinking of my new duty station after Vietnam. Once my leave was over I headed for Ft. Carson, CO. Being back in the states for those 30 days seemed to really mess me up and I longed to be back at the 24th in Vietnam with people I knew, my family. I flew to Denver and then to Colorado Springs. My duffle bag didn't make it so I had to wait for the next plane to see if it was on that one, which it was. But I could not make myself grab some transportation and head off to Ft. Carson. I just sat there in the baggage area. I don't know for how long but it seemed like hours. Finally I headed off for Ft. Carson. I checked in and got my temporary barracks and some chow. Later that night on the national news there was a story on Vietnam and right before my eyes was the 24th Evac and they were talking with the guys I was stationed with in the A&D and others I knew. It made me even more messed up than I was. The next day I had to police the area and pick up cigarette butts. I thought "What the Fuck am I doing." 30 days ago I was bagging bodies and taking care of the wounded and now I'm picking up cigarette butts in December at Ft. Carson. I believe later that day was the day I was assigned to a barracks for in-processing which took about a week and I was so scared, numb, lonely, you name it. I guess God was with me and knew I felt I was at the end of my rope.

I met two other GI's also in-processing. I know one and feel sure the other one as well was just back from Vietnam. I remember one had his spleen taken out. I stated in a earlier post how funny I found it in the service at how quickly one established a friendship / bond with other GI's and this was again one of those cases. We were billeted in an old World War II barracks. I don't remember how we connected but it was quick. One of them had a car and asked us if we wanted to check out the surrounding area. So, after duty each day we would go off to explore Cripple Creek, Colorado or Manitou Springs or a local restaurant. It was a very quiet and subdued time together. We didn't speak of the war and our conversations were really quiet, low key and they were also very calming to me. Every night for a week we were off together and each night was much the same. I cannot put into words how much this meant to me and at that time it saved me. Soon the week was over and the one with car got his assignment and was gone. The one without the spleen and I had yet to be assigned and he only had a few months until he got discharged. I was talked to and told what Unit I'd be assigned to. My new friend wanted to be assigned with me and I felt the same. I did go and speak to the Staff Sergeant working on the assignments and tried my best to get him assigned with me but unfortunately that was not to be. Soon we said our goodbyes and I was off to my new Unit. I never saw either of them again but I am so thankful our paths crossed even if only for a short time.

I'd like to say that things went well from then on but things started to go bad over time and within six months I was facing one of the most difficult situations I had ever experienced and one that could change my life forever.

I'll Never Leave Vietnam

There is a song in the play Miss Saigon that has a verse that includes "I'll Never Leave Vietnam." For me, and I suspect most others, that is true. It may sound strange, but in my mind I am always there and think of Vietnam throughout the day and then in my dreams at night. I miss those I had the honor of working with at the 24th Evac and always think of those who died or were wounded who came through our hospital.

I found this video tonight honoring those who served in a medical or dustoff capacity and the 24th is included. I found it so overwhelming and I wanted to share it.

Agent Orange and Kids

A couple of weeks ago I had my fourth colonoscopy and had 12 polyps. Most, or all of them, were pre-cancerous. I had to go see a Genetics person as the Doctor wanted to do a study on my family (brothers and sisters) and he wanted to start with me. And then, perhaps their children based on how the tests come out. The Genetics person said I have a bad gene that probably came from my mothers side. She also stated what the Doctor stated, that I am at very high risk and will probably end up with cancer.

During this first meeting I actually spoke with her about Agent Orange. I told her that almost every morning around 4:00 a.m. they loaded choppers with herbicides for spraying the jungle. The helipad that the choppers were being loaded with was on a secondary helipad next to the one bringing in casualties. I had been on that helipad numerous times and was on-duty when they were loaded. This helipad had 50 gallon drums filled with what we understood as herbicides. Some staff at the hospital would from, time to time, fly with the crew during spraying. 

Anyway, I told her of my concern regarding Agent Orange contact, or at least, the contact with those herbicides on the helipad. (From what I now understand all Vietnam Veterans have been considered as having Agent Orange contact.) I told her of my concern for having children and my fear of birth defects and that I could not face those risks. I told her I made the decision not to have children. After I finished she said I now have another big risk for cancer. She stated that I probably made a good decision not to have children and the horrible effects of Agent Orange including birth defects.

I have never regretted the decision to not have birth children. I do have two adopted children including one from Korea and I love both dearly. When I look at them I only see them as my children just as it should be. I also have a step-daughter who I love just as much as my adopted children.

Anyway, tomorrow I'll be back for some extensive blood work and will be followed closely and we'll see how this all plays out. One can only have faith.

Vietnam Moving Wall in Omaha

The Moving Vietnam Wall was here in Omaha for the last week at Memorial Park and I went to see it on Sunday around 10:30 p.m. It was its last night here and I could not get it out of my mind and knew I had to go see it. There was only one other person there when I arrived other than the former Vietnam Veteran who was there to answer questions, etc. He said that huge crowds of people have been there during the week and he thought so few people were there now as they thought they we loading up that night for the next destination. I’ve been to the Moving Wall twice before, once in Omaha and once in Littleton, CO. Even though I’ve seen it before I was overwhelmed with emotions as I walked up to it. Even in the smaller Traveling form it seems so huge with over 58,000 names on it in white against the black wall.

The Vietnam Veteran there to assist told me where to find the four panels for GIs who died while I was in Vietnam. I know I was with many of them when they died or shortly after they died. Although I did now know their names I wanted to touch the names on the panel, pay my respects and say some prayers. After that I walked the length of the Wall saying prayers as I did. Later as I was standing there the Vietnam Veteran who spoke to me earlier who had asked if I had served In-Country and welcomed me home came and spoke with me. He said “You know, it’s not over.”. He went on to say he has Stage 4 cancer from Agent Orange and spoke about women veterans whose children suffer from birth defects as well as other conditions Vietnam Veterans face such as Diabetes. We then stood silently together for a few minutes. I then shook his hand and thanked him and left. I was so glad he had spoken to me and it brought such comfort.

You know, there is a song in the play “Miss Saigon” where one of the lines state “I’ll never leave Vietnam”. I don’t believe that a day has ever gone by that I have not thought about Vietnam, the people I was stationed with, what I did, saw, and especially those who were wounded or died. And I have realized some time ago that I have never left Vietnam, nor will I ever as it will always be with me.

The Australian Soldier's English

There was an article this week in our local paper regarding English language barriers between Soldiers from Iowa and New Zealand Soldiers in Afghanistan. Even though both use the English language they had difficulty understanding each other and meaning of the words were different. Of course reading the story brought memories to my mind. In Vietnam we had soldiers from Thailand, Australia, New Zealand, South Korea, etc. and of course there were all types of language barriers. To me, the funniest and craziest was when we had an Australian Soldier come in. He was carrying on and laughing and talking and I was at a total lost as to what he was saying due to his accent and meaning of words being different that mine. This seemed to amuse him and he just started talking more and more and became very animated as I became more and more confused. I think the only thing I ever got out of the conversation was something about someone looking like a monkey looking out of a cage. I knew he was not talking about me but could not follow who he was talking about. He was only around for about 10 minutes or so and I think he brought in another Australian GI to the ER and then he was off. He was quite the character, one whose personality would match what I have heard as far as description of Australians. I had always hoped to take a trip down under to visit my Austrailan Brothers but know I'll not have that opportunity, but that will no prevent me from downing a beer and toasting my mates.

What did you do in the war?

What did you do in the war? Most people do not know I was in the Army or in Vietnam. I rarely, if ever, tell people and only been asked a handful of times "What did you do in the war?" When they find out I was in Vietnam. I simply say "I worked in a hospital." Usually at that point in time the asshole will say, "Oh, that's it? Let me tell you about the Grunts, the firefights, what they did and had to go through, etc." This coming from a guy 20 years younger than I am who was never in the service. And for over 40 years I have felt so unworthy. I didn't fight and suffer like those out in the jungle. I wasn't wounded, maimed or killed. And worse of all I was always so afraid the Grunt's hated me and considered me a coward.

What did I do in the war? It is time for me to say. I was stationed at the 24th Evacuation Hospital in Long Binh on January 1st, 1971.  I was told they didn't need an MOS 72B20, Communications Specialist. I had no medical knowledge. After a couple days I was assigned to the A&D (Admissions and Disposition). That was part of the ER, just separated by a short cloth curtain. I got my first taste of war that day. The A&D radio constantly coming to life regarding incoming choppers. Codes I didn't understand coming over that radio; traumatic amputations to the arms, legs and feet; head wounds; DOA; Gun Shot Wounds to the face; chest; etc. And the scrambling of those in A&D to grab gurneys running out to the choppers to bring in the wounded.

What did I do in the war? I worked a minimum of 12 hours from 1800 to 0700 hrs. I answered the radio and gathered information regarding the incoming. I let the ER know what we had coming in. I took the wounded off the choppers, many times climbing into the chopper amid wounded GI's tossed in on top of each other. I'd get them out and onto a litter and gurney in the darkness of night not knowing what to expect or if they were dead, alive or just what their wounds were. I put my hand under a GIs head and find most of it was gone from being blown off from an ambush using a Claynmore mine. I'd rush the wounded into the ER and try to get personal information from them, get them a number for blood work, etc. and an armband on. Many times during mass casualties I'd get the armbands ready and list the names as Unk GI 1, Unk GI 2, Unk GI 3, etc. along with individual numbers knowing there was no time to get any additional information as the wounded just kept coming and coming. I'd help in anyway I could. I'd cut off bloody uniforms, pump an ambu bag to keep them breathing, help bandage and dress wounds, etc. And not all incoming was a battle casualty. There were heart attacks, snake bites, motor vehicle accidents, a GI with an almost severed leg from a chain saw accident. There were drug overdoses, GI's who were fragged by other GI's mamasan's giving birth, dog bites, chopper and plane crashes and the very worst as far I was concerned the burn victims. And in between all of this we would have the drunks come in, or an injured NVA POW who grabbed a scalpel trying to slash you or a mentally unstable GI trying to fire an M16 and kill you.

Once the wounded were taken care of, or at least being worked on, it was time to take care of the dead. The dead soldier may have died in the field, on the way in or in the ER. Most times I would be in the Morgue by myself with a GI in a bag on a litter on the floor of the Morgue. I remember looking down at a young man who looked like he was sleeping. I slowly cut off all his clothing. I'd took off his dog tags and cut off any rings or jewelry he may have had on. I remember the body still being warm and I wondered if they made a mistake, maybe he was alive, but that was not to be. Once that was all completed I'd fill out a tag and tag his toe, zip up the bag and then tag the bag. I'd then go into the hospital and log in all his belongings and put them in a bag so they would be returned to his family. I'd then get another GI to come help me lift up the litter and get him on a rack in the Morgue making room for possibly another death. Graves Registration would be called to come pick up the body. There were times when I would be there in the Morgue with another GI to take care of the dead especially those who had received very traumatic wounds. I once helped post op taking care of several South Vietnamese dead with an Ambulance driver as so many were dying on the ward they needed help. Our emotions so screwed up at the time and him being mad at me for getting him involved. But I had to so something. I could only think of how bad it must be for those alive being surrounded by the dead on that ward.

Every day was exhausting and many times after all was said and done it'd get quiet and I'd look down at the blood on my fatigues, my hands and in my mind I'd wonder if if this really wasn't a dream.

I always prayed for these young men and their families. And for some reason felt so close to them as if one of my own had been injured or died. I always wanted to tell families that there was someone there as your child was dying who listened and spoke with them or that there was someone who treated their remains with respect and honor.

My life has always been filled with such inner sadness and I feel such loss for these you men who were wounded or died. And that sadness continues. Those days are so long ago yet I remember it everyday and I know it will be that way every day of my life until I die. And I hope that when I die I will be reunited with these young men.

So that is what I did in the war. And I must try to remember what one Grunt in from the field in a mass casualty situation said to me:

"I don't know how you do this every day. I am so glad I am out in the field because I would not be able to do this."

Thank you my brother.

The Texan's Toe

We had a lot of Texans in Basic Training. After we were in Basic for a while I remember one of the Texans talking with Ed (from Omaha) about his little toe. Apparently his little toe grew on top of the toe next to it. It was causing him some problems with his boots on and he was wondering if he should go to sick call. Ed told him to go for it and he did. I ended up sending him  to the hospital to take a look at and see what could be done. Well, the answer was quick. He could get it cut off and continue in Basic Training or get a medical discharge. I believe that he was married and decided that he would not miss Basic or the Army that much so he took the medical. He was a good guy and we were all happy him.

You know, I never thought about it until yesterday. Maybe I should have went to sick call for my eyes. I totally flunked the eye test when I had my induction physical and my eye problems were not correctable. Who knows what the outcome would have been. But I truly believe from a young age that going into the Army and war was my destiny.

A Stupid Kid

As I look back at my early years I realize that I was a stupid kid. (I guess uneducated, shy and backward also come to mind.) I was horribly shy and really didn't have what one would call true friends. I barely made it through a Catholic Grade School. (We acutally have a first ever reunion of the school coming up.) I was made fun of, was a lousy student, terrible at baseball during recess, etc. I now know that I was terrible at baseball was due because of poor vision and not being able to judge distance. High School was even worse. It seemed the only thing that ever was good was working. Somehow that made up for everything else although it really kept me even more from school activities, etc. due to me working almost full time while going to high school. After High School I went to Des Moines and lived with a couple other guys and went to United Electronic Institute for six months. I was horrible at math, studying, etc. so I dropped out after about four months but lived and worked in Des Moines until my parents forced me to return to Omaha. I had made a friend, Steve from Wisconsin, and just starting to feel "normal" but that ended that. (I often think of Steve and where he ended up and wish we had had more time to get to know one another. We both shared some of the same circumstances in our past.)

I was working at a horse racing track and making some friends and started to feel normal when I was drafted and went to Ft. Lewis Washington. I was scared shitless. I was still very shy, not athletic, etc. and ready for failure. But a funny thing happened. I ended up feeling happy and normal. I made friends, laughed, told stories and we all did stupid things that we could laugh about. I guess we were all in the same boat. We were all away from home, out of our element, scared, etc. I never felt like this before and it was overwhelming. We were in the 4th Platoon which was considered the fuck ups. Every time our Company had to sit down the Drill Sargent's would say "Take Seats" to which we would reply:

"Rat Shit, Bat Shit, Suck your mothers tit. Cock suck, Mother Fuck, Eat a Bag of Shit. We're the mighty Penguins, all the other suck. We the might D12, rah, rah  fuck." And once when ROTC was there for training with us we added "ROTC Suck" to the end.

At the beginning of Basic I did what everyone told me not to do. I signed up for an extra year to get a school. Little did I know that I would be offered a duty station right a Ft. Lewis but once they found I signed up for a school I was told to forget that. Shit, I could have stayed there for my full two years. So, after the Basic Training Graduation Ceremony, me and 3 or so other guys grabbed a cab and he drove very fast to get us to the airport for our flight from Washington to Nebraska. We got there in a nick of time and they put us in First Class. We were offered this great meal, etc. but I turned it down even with the push for me to take it from Ed. Why? I was embarrassed. Why? Who the fuck knows. I was just overcome with being shy and embarrassed again. What the hell was wrong with me. Anyway, I had two weeks in Omaha before my tour at Ft. Gordon, GA. It was a strange two weeks. I had a girlfriend and I fucked that up royally and I don't even remember the circumstance other than I was a total ignorant prick. I also had an altercation when while driving my mom's car. Of course I had the buzzed hair down to my scalp. Some guy next to me at a red light started yelling stupid things at me and threw hamburgers all over my windshield and calling me names. I kinda was forcing them over into the wrong lane when the light turned green and the driver yelled "please" so I backed off.

I remember being glad that leave was over. I just didnt' seem to fit in and was ready to go. Scared shitless again, but ready. I flew off to Ft. Gordon GA via Chicago, Atlanta and finally Augusta. When I got there it was time to settle in for a day or so with all the new guys getting stationed there for inprocessing. It was a time also a for meeting up with some guys I had met in Basic and boy was it like old home week. One of the guys talked all the time in Basic about his car "The Judge" and what a car it was. He was more than happy to show it to us all since he drove it down to AIT.

Well, I got to get some ZZZZZs. It has been such a fucked up week so far and I have been so sad. Thinking back to a time, that those who never served would not understand, brings some peace to me tonight.

Goodnight Brothers.

A Strange Night

Last night I received an E-mail from my brother with a link to Youtube regarding the Vietnam Moving Wall coming to Omaha. I played that short video a couple of times with tears in my eyes. I then went up stairs and channel surfed and came accross a program following a pilot in the Air Force coming back to the states to meet the family of a service member that died in Afganistan. The pilot was the last person to speak with him before he was killed. He wanted to meet the family and tell them what a Hero their son was. When the pilot got back in the states he first stopped to Salute and pay his respects at the Airmans grave. He then walked the last mile meeting up with two of the Airmans Friends who were also in the service. He reached the home of the dead soldier and through tears spoke to his parents. He and the parents were crying, and huge tears were falling from the fathers eyes. He then gave them a flag which was hoisted on a flag pole. Later the mother stated just how difficult the last four months had been and just how much it meant to her family that the pilot had come and paid his respects. The show ended with a number of photo's of this 19 year old soldier who loved and gave his live for his Country.

I was crying and felt such sorrow for this young mans family. And it also brought such sadness to me for those who died in Vietnam so many years ago. Those young Vietnam GIs fought and died for their Country, but a Country that didn't really seem to care. And I again, as so many times in my life. apologized to them that I am living and that they had died.

I went to bed shortly after the program and layed in bed praying for our Veterans and those who have died in the war. However, I seemed to fall into a fast and hard sleep. With this sleep came a dream with me being back in the Army surrounded by my fellow GIs. It brought me such peace and comfort to be surrounded by them and speaking with them.  This dream seemed to fill my entire night and as I finally began to wake up I found myself fighting to remain asleep and stay with them. Unfortunately that was not to happen and I was soon awake, lying in bed, trying to remember every detail of that dream and what we spoke about.

It seems that from time to time when things seem so sad and unbearable I have one of these dreams where my brothers are there for me and I'm longing to be with them. As I think about these dreams I wonder if they were a dream or real. I guess all I  know is that I spent time with them and am thankful for that.

Well it's time to hit the sack. Good night my brothers.

Choppers (Medivac & Dustoff)

Since I have been back from Nam I ofter hear people talk about Medivac or Dustoffs when talking about transporting the wounded. I don't think I ever really used that term while at the 24th. They were just referred to as choppers. About the only time I heard the term Medivac is when a chopper would come in during the early morning hours taking wounded from our hospital to the air base for transfer patients to Japan, etc.

Since my tour of duty was nights, most of my time on the helipad was when it was pitch black except for four lights bulbs with red glass covers on the helipad. Many times we'd be standing there watching the chopper with their spot light searching for the hospital and helipad. Often times I'd run over and switch those small red lights off an on hoping that it would help the pilot identify the helipad. It probably didn't help but I had to try something.

I felt many emotions when on the helipad waiting for the chopper or choppers. I was scared of getting hit or walking into the tail rotor or rotor blades. I felt such sorrow when there were dead GI's coming in on the chopper or worried that I wouldn't be able to get the GI into the hospital soon enough. And I think my biggest fear was the fear of the unknown and what to expect when that chopper landed. A chopper may have had two or three wounded on it and they were placed on litters with IV bottles running. Or they could have two, three or more GI's just piled on top of each other and maybe even dead lying among those still alive. And it was so dark, with just a dim light turned on inside of the chopper, but we did everything in our power to get those young men into the ER as quickly as possible.

We encountered many different types of choppers. We had Huey's, small Loach choppers, Jolly Greens, Pedro's, etc. bring in wounded. And of all those the two that really worried me the most was the Loach or Pedro. My worst encounter with the Loach was when it was bringing in a chopper pilot who had crashed and he was burned on the upper body. That thing was all over the place as it came in. I was on the helipad with another GI with a litter and we saw this thing coming and knew we were dead. He hit that helipad hard and was actually skidding towards. They are short and we were really at risk in getting out head hit by the rotor blades or tail rotor. I think we actually had to jump into a drainage ditch to avoid contact. And out came the pilot with his arms in the air literally screaming in pain as he ran towards us and we just ran with him into the Hospital. I think this was the only time I had a patient not going in on a litter.

The other chopper was the Pedro. The were short and had two intersecting rotors. I dreaded each time they landed. The pilot would light up the front flood light and talk to us on a speaker. He would tell us which way to move, Left or Right, etc. as he guided us into the chopper. Once we made it through those two intersecting rotor blades the Crew Chief would walk us to the back to get the wounded. One time it was a blond stewardess from a jet bringing in the new guy in-county. The plane hit turbulence and she was injured. Once we got the wounded on the gurney, the Crew Chief would then walk us out.

It may sound strange but I can detect when a chopper is near. Many times when out at a recreation area or in town I'll say here comes a chopper and my family or the people around me will just look at me like I'm crazy. But then here it comes and they will see it and say "Oh there it it is. How did you know it was coming?" But I don't respond as my memory is flooded with memories of Vietnam.

Last summer I was driving past a mall that had fire equipment, police vehicles, etc. for the public to tour. I then saw what appeared to be a Pedro and I had to turn around and go back to the mall. I got out of my care and as I got closer to it I saw that although it resembled a Pedro it only had one main rotor. I was overwhelmed with memories and tried to speak with the pilots. Something didn't click and he didn't seem to respond to a couple of my questions as I had hoped. I guess in looking back in time and he not being there but in the present probably wondered who is this guy. I left after a couple minutes with my emotions all over the map. I guess I expected too much from someone in the current day and place and me zooming back in time.

I just want to end this with a "Salute" to all those pilots, crew chiefs, door gunners, medics, etc. for their valiant service who saved so many of our brothers. You are always in my thoughts and prayers.

Thump, Thump, Thump

For some crazy reason I have been thinking about an incident for the last couple of weeks and actually found the letter I wrote home about it on 4 Oct 71. It had been a pretty quiet night at the 24th but sometime during my tour a GI came in, pulled me aside. He told me he had a guy in his jeep with a bunk adapter and was going to bash in peoples heads. I asked him why he brought him to the 24th rather than the MP's. I don't remember his answer but did call the MPs. After I hung up the phone I heard this thump, thump, thump against the bunker walls. The GI went outside looking around another building for the guy and I followed him and was watching him and when I turned around here, right before me, was the GI with the bunk adapter. I seem to remember it raised up over my head. Anyway, I backed into the A&D as he followed me in. I had let the ER know what was going on and luckily the MPs showed up right then. Come to find out he had been seen at the 24th a week earlier as he purposely shot himself in the foot and I think I was on-duty that night as well. I guess we figured he was trying to get himself back home. I never did hear about him again or the outcome of this incident. You know, I think this was maybe only one two or three instances I knew of where a GI was trying to get himself sent home so this was definitely not the norm for GIs in-country from my experience.

After all was said and done all I knew was that I was really pretty stupid going out looking for him and that it really shook me up  I do feel lucky tough as I don't think his intent was to really hurt anyone. If it was, he had the opportunity to bash my head in before I had even seen him standing next to me with the bunk adapter. All I can think of is that God must have been watching out for me that night.

I can't handle it tonight.

It was always and endless stream of wounded and dead GI's coming through the 24th. And there were times it became unbearable and you thought you could not handle any more. My Sergeant had one of those nights. We received just received a call from a chopper regarding a patient with multiple gun shot wounds to the face. My Sergeant told me he just could not handle it and said he'd get the guy off the chopper if I'd go into the ER and get the GI's information, get the wrist band on him, get his clothes, valuables and do whatever the ER may require me to do.

 I was in the A&D side of the ER as the litter was being brought in . All I remember seeing was this guy trying to sit up with no face and blood spraying everywhere. I followed the litter into ER. The worked feverishly to try to save this GI. It was horrific seeing this soldier with no face and fighting the Doc's and Corpsmen as they tried to work on him and got him into surgery. I believe one of the major issues was his attempting to breath.

It seemed like only minutes before he was in surgery. That is when we found out that he apparently attempted suicide and, if I remember correctly, he put an M-16 under his chin and pulled the trigger with a full clip in it. That night one of the surgeon's was a Major and she was fairly new in country. I think she may have had a plastic surgery background or was a plastic surgeon. I believe he was in surgery for many hours (I'm thinking 12.). The Major and staff were able to save his life and I was there when he was airlifted to Japan some weeks later. I remember being in the area between the ER and Pre-Op where patients waited to be airlifted by helicopter to the airbase to be flown out. I was with the Major who did the surgery who was now wearing a khaki's. I looked down at this GI and saw somewhat of a face and was so amazed at how well he looked compared to when he came in. It was from from a normal face but a face no less. I asked her about him and how he was doing. She said that he did not remember what happened but knew where he was. She said that his eyes were saved but that he would probably have double vision and that he had many, many more surgeries coming his way. Soon the chopper arrived and I and another GI took him out to the Huey and got him loaded for the trip to the airbase. I helped the Major get in the chopper and it was the only time I helped someone with a skirt on and it was really awkward trying to get her up into the chopper. I then left the helipad and watched as the chopper lifted off.

You know, I relive and remember so much of what I saw and did in Vietnam and my memories of my life outside of Vietnam is miniscule compared to Vietnam and being in the service. And this may sound strange but I'm afraid I'll forget those memories even though I know they burned in my memory. My only wish is that I'd like to be able to know how this young men's life turned out as well as the others who crossed my path. I know this is impossible but I often wonder about them. I can only say that hey are in my thoughts and prayers and that I have not forgotten them.

Identifying the Dead Soldier

For some reason my thoughts have been on this all day and I'm a mess. I don't know why these things come up and I start thinking about them and I can't get them out of my mind.

I came on duty and was told that we had a soldier in the Morgue and that someone from his Unit would be in to identify the remains. I was told to take them in to identify the body. I was afraid and worried. It may sound strange, but I had been in the Morgue many times and bagged numerous bodies, but had never opened a bag I didn't know what to expect and afraid of what I'd see. I'm so embarrassed now about feeling that way and feel so sorry about my feelings being so self-centered.

Eventually two individuals came in from his Unit. One NCO and one Officer I believe. I took them to the Morgue that was basically a wooden structure outside the ER area. I unlocked the padlocked door and took them in. I took them to the bag located on a rack on a stretcher and pointed to it. I was told to "open it". Again, being afraid of what I'd see and it being something I could not be prepared for, I unzipped the bag and opened it in a way so that they could see this young man and identify him without me looking into the bag. I heard comments regarding his injuries and became very angry. They seemed to be more impressed about what they saw rather than really looking at a young GI who died and identifying him. My anger took over and I asked "is it him" and they said yes. I immediately closed the bag and got them out of the Morgue. As we were walking into the ER and A&D area I heard them talk about the wounds and how some of their comrades were coming over and they would take them to look at this young soldier wounds. There was no doubt this was just to look and ooh and aah about what they saw and could brag about to others.

My E-7 came in that night which was somewhat rare as he was days. I told him what had happened and I was so upset and angry and that I didn't want to do this again and how wrong it was. I told him they just wanted to see the wounds and that is all they cared about. I guess I was pretty crazy but he understood and I am so thankful he did. When the other men came in and joined the other two they said they wanted to go back to the Morgue to see this young man. My Sergeant said "No", you have already identified him and no one was going back in. I was so relieved. Not because I would have to go in again but that my Sergeant understood and respected this young man who died.

I am so sorry and pray to God for forgiveness for being so selfish and I pray for this young man and his family.

Sergeant of the Guard, the Claymore Mine and Me

I was watching a program involving Prison's and, of course, it brought back an awful memory.

It was 7:00 a.m. and I was just getting off duty at the 24th when a member of the Army staff who investigates crimes came to get me. I was told nothing except that I was to go with him, which I did. We reached their site on base. Once inside I was told the following: That an attempt to frag the Sergeant of the Guard occurred. Apparently he saw the tripwire when opening the door to his hooch. He saw it before opening the door all the way. The tripwire was connected to a Claymore Mine. The people doing the investigation believed that the Claymore Mine was taken from the Arms Room located just outside the ER. (Part of our jobs was to secure all weapons from the incoming patients and secure it in that small Arms Room that was padlocked.)

I barely knew the Sergeant other than knowing he was new and I believe new In Country as well. I had guard duty only once with him as the Sergeant of the Guard. What little I knew was that he was hardcore and pushed to make sure everyone followed the rules - no leeway. If memory serves correctly, that didn't sit very well with those who had been In Country. Just a new guy who thought he knew everything and fuck the rest.

At this point in time I was scared. I was on duty every night for a minimum 12 shift and had access. I didn't know if they just picked me up or had they interrogated any others. All I could think of is that I was going to LBJ (Long Binh Jail - the stockade/prison for military personnel). I didn't know what to do. My mind was racing. What if they dont' believe me? Can they take fingerprints? My fingerprints were are lots of weapons in the Arms Room. There was no mention of my rights, an attorney, nothing except lots of questions coming my way. There was nothing I could do except answer those questions as they were asked. I could only hope that they would believe me and that I was truthful. After some time I was taken back to the 24th. I dont' remember if I was told I was cleared or what. I was just happy to be free. And what happened to the Sergeant of the Guard? I don't ever remember seeing him again and suspect that he was moved to another duty station for fear it could happen again.

That's it as I remember and it gets my mind and heart racing every time I think of it. Did I attempt to frag him? No way. I saw GI's who had been fragged and it was horrific. I was constantly surrounded by wounded and dead and no way would I ever think of doing that. And I am just so thankful that the truth prevailed.

Cancer, Colostomy and a Pool Stick

It has been a long week. My youngest sister was diagnosed with colon cancer and underwent surgery this last week. So far, she does not have to have a Colostomy and I pray she grows stronger and recovers. It appears they caught it in time and I'm so thankful for that.

In 2002 ago my mother died of colon cancer after a long illness. Although terminal, she fought a very good battle. It was a case of having cancer, but a Dr. who didn't really listen to a patient stating she had some pain so it had progressed too far before he took action. After a period of time and several surgeries, she had to have a Colostomy. My wife told me that my mom told her that she could see I was really bothered when I first saw it. But there was much more to it that what she believed.

In Vietnam I saw a  few patients who, due to wounds, had to have colostomy/stomach surgery. My first encounter was when I saw a patient on the Post Op Ward . How can I describe what I saw and experienced that first time. The incisions, bandages, and odor. All of these combined were overwhelming to me at first, not knowing or understanding what had happened, etc. And then I  felt so bad for those young men and just so helpless. I hated what was happening to them and just could not understand why.

But there was one instance that brings great sadness to me. If I remember correctly, it was a young Lt. brought into the ER. He was in excruciating pain. I was not with him for very long, just to get information from him in the ER and I was there when the ER doc was gathering information. He told the Dr. that he was playing pool. Apparently someone got mad at him and when he was bent over the pool table making a shot the other GI rammed the pool stick up his ass. (No better way to say this.) Again, he was in so much pain and every move caused even more excruciating pain.

I left the ER before he was examined and I can't remember what happened or the outcome of his surgery or his prognosis. All I know is that this poor GI was in such pain and I suspect his life will remain altered due to this senseless act. And I also suspect he ended up with a Colostomy. I often think of him and wonder how he is and what became of him. So, whenever I hear of a Colostomy, I remember this young Lt. and think of him and say prayers for him. I find this the hardest part - not knowing the outcome of those who I came in contact with at the 24th. It leaves such an empty feeling and I so want to know what happened to them. I can only remember them and keep them in my prayers.

I also want to say that several years ago I read an article of a GI in Iraq who was in an ambush. He suffered multiple wounds and also ended up with a permanent Colostomy. He went on to set-up a group to send school supplies to Iraqi school children. He to has been in my prayers as well.

I pray to God for all our Veterans and those now serving our Country.

Did You Ever?

Did you ever? Did you ever just sit back and just wonder? That is something I have been doing more of lately. I'm not sure what is driving it. Could it be because I'm getting to that certain age? Could it be that I'm just tired? Or is it that I now want to think more of me and in doing so all the "Did You Ever?" comes up?

Did you ever want to start life over, knowing what you know now?
Did you ever want to tell your parents you now understand how difficult it was being a parent?
Did you ever wish you studied harder, put forth more effort?
Did you ever wish you were a better parent knowing you did your best but believe you've failed?
Did you ever want to be more honest?
Did you ever really want to be yourself instead of something other than what who you appear to be?
Did you ever want to just stand up for what is right and your beliefs rather than being silent?
Did you ever want to touch peoples lives in ways others have not?
Did you ever want to be truly loved for who you are?
Did you ever want to make a difference?
Did you ever want people to remember you as someone who touched a life and someone special?
Did you ever want to be heard?
Did you ever wish you had money or were rich?
Did you ever want to meet people from Russia, China, North Korea and really sit down and just really, really, openly talk and learn.

There are so many "Did You Ever?" that comes to mind that I can't list them all. And many of them would never be realized and some may viewed as just stupid. And if I were rich I'd share it with those who needed it so I'd never be rich, and so on, and so on.  And I guess of the "Did You Ever?", there is a number one "Did You Ever?" I really wanted to do:

Did you ever want to go back to Vietnam? Absolutely. I think of Vietnam all the time. Will it make a difference in my life if I go back? I don't know but I sure hoped I'd get that chance. I always wanted to go there with my son who was adopted from Korea. For some reason I have always thought it would bring some closure for me. It would also be an experience both of us would cherish and he and I have had this quiet connection regarding Vietnam. I suspect I'll never have that opportunity.

Well, it's time to get some ZZZZZZZZZZsss and I hope that tomorrow I can lighten up some. It seems I have been on such a downward spiral and so sad for a very long time. I just can't seem to shake it. I guess it's just another one of those "Did You Evers?"

Good Night -