Vietnam Veterans Edition

Vietnam Veterans Memorial Wall Special edition compiles Vietnam series From Oct. 20 through Oct. 23, Coweta County will play host to a very special visitor: The Vietnam Memorial Moving Wall.

The half-size replica of the Vietnam Memorial Wall in Washington, D.C., contains the names of all those lost during the Vietnam War, including 23 from Coweta County.

The wall will be the main attraction of the 2011 Veterans Muster, which will be held at the Coweta County Fairgrounds on Pine Road south of Newnan off U.S. 29.

Congress recently declared 2011 as the 50th anniversary of

the beginning of the Vietnam War. To recognize that occasion, the Coweta Commission on Veterans Affairs, which organizes and operates the annual Veterans Muster, decided to focus 2011’s event on the Vietnam War. To help commemorate the visit of the Moving Wall, The Newnan Times-Herald, over a 14-week period starting July 10, has run a series of articles compiled by staff writer Alex McRae about the Vietnam War and the Vietnam Memorial.

The series and accompanying material about “The Wall That Heals” and the schedule of

events for the upcoming Veterans Muster is included in today’s special section.

The series examines the causes, the victories, the defeats and the national unrest that followed the war from beginning to end. Each article

features comments and stories about the Vietnam experience from current Coweta veterans who served there.

This series is intended to help readers understand more about America’s most unpopular war.

“We also hope it will enable readers to realize how this war was different from any other, mostly for the way those who fought it were treated by some of their fellow citizens,” McRae said.

Soldiers from America’s other wars came home to ticker tape parades, victory rallies and cheers from a grateful nation. Many who returned from Vietnam were spat upon, called “baby killers” and held up as a symbol of all that was wrong with America. And all because they served their country with dignity and honor.

In the 36 years since the last two servicemen died in Vietnam in 1975, America’s Vietnam veterans have begun to win acceptance and are now honored at local and national events honoring all veterans.

But the scars from that longago war remain.

The Vietnam Memorial Moving Wall is called “The Wall That Heals” for a reason.

We hope events like the 2011 Veterans Muster will help heal those who served their nation in Vietnam, and help all of us better understand why the wounds from that war are still so painful and so deep.

‘The Wall That Heals’ schedule of events

By ALEX McRAE alex@newnan.com

the “Huey” helicopter in the Vietnam War. One of the movie participants, Donna Rowe, (Capt. U.S. Army ret.) will make a personal presentation.

Capt. Rowe served as Head Nurse, Emergency Room/Triage Area, 3rd Field Hospital, Saigon, Vietnam, during 1968-69.

Location: The Centre for Performing and Visual Arts, 1523 Lower Fayetteville Road, Newnan. Open and free to the public (Approx. 90 min.)

■ Wednesday, Oct. 19.

Setup of The Wall and associated exhibits at the Coweta County Fairgrounds by volunteers.

■ Thursday, Oct. 20, 9 a.m. — The Wall That Heals - Opening Ceremony.

Location: Coweta County Fairgrounds, outside Main Stage. Students from Newnan High School classes on World War II and the Vietnam War will be present and the Newnan High chorus will perform.

Open and free to the public.

(Approx. 45 min.)

Following the Ceremony, The Wall will be officially opened to the public for daily visitation on a 24-hour basis through Sunday, Oct. 23 at 6 p.m. A Huey and Chinook helicopter will be present on static display.

Students from all three Coweta County high schools visit The Wall.

Note: On Thursday and Friday, Oct. 20 and 21, high school, middle school and

The week of Oct. 16-23, 2011, will be packed with activities related to the Vietnam Memorial Moving Wall— “The Wall That Heals” — which will be on display at the Coweta County Fairgrounds from Oct. 20-23.

The following schedule of events was provided by the Coweta Commission on Veterans Affairs, which organized and will oversee the visit of the memorial.

■ Sunday, Oct. 16, 3 p.m.

A one-man Broadway show titled “The Things They Carried.” This play is presented by the American Place Theater of New York and based on a book by Tim O’Brien.

Location: The Centre for Performing and Visual Arts, 1523 Lower Fayetteville Road, Newnan. The performance runs approximately 90 minutes.

Vietnam veterans and their immediate families will be admitted free. Other admission prices are: $10 general admission, $8 for seniors, $2 for students U.S. Navy photo by Chief Mass Communication Specialist Kathryn Whittenberger ■ Tuesday, Oct. 18, noon.

Arrival of “The Wall That JACKSON, Miss.— Special warfare combatant-craft crewmen assigned to Special Boat Team (SBT) 22 read names on the Vietnam Traveling Memorial Wall.

Heals.” A caravan including a tractor-trailer carrying The Wall will be escorted by a large contingent of patriotic motorcyclists along Bullsboro Drive, through downtown Newnan, and then to the Coweta County Fairgrounds.

■ Tuesday, Oct. 18, 7 p.m.

Showing of the film “In the Shadow of the Blade” and a Commission and Jackson was town Newnan, including a dis- presentation about the role of

By ALEX McRAE See EVENTS, page 2 designated as the commission’s play of military memorabilia by alex@newnan.com local vets and a book signing representative on the CVA. No place in America shows New members of the CVA by three area veterans who had more support for its veterans came on board. Jackson said written books recounting their than Coweta County. that, from the start, the com- military memories or experi■ Our veterans, their stories, Local governments, civic mittee made it clear it was not ences. pages 2-12, 16-20 clubs, community groups and The first Muster was a major in competition with established veterans organizations, includveterans groups. In fact, local success. As soon as it was over, ■ Threat of Communism drew ing the American Legion, leaders of many of those the CVA started planning for U.S. into Vietnam, page 3 Veterans of Foreign Wars, the 2011 event, unofficially groups are members of CVA. AMVETS (or American “We are fortunate to have the called Muster II. ■ A salute to Coweta’s veterans, Since the U.S. Congress had Veterans) and Marine Corps full support of all the veterans page 13 League, have always gone the organizations throughout the designated 2011 as the 50th anniversary of the beginning of extra mile to honor and sup■ A thank-you to all who served, county and far beyond,” the Vietnam War it was decidport local vets, not just on Jackson said. page 15 Photo courtesy Vietnam Veterans Veterans Day and Memorial Once the organization was ed that Muster II would honor Memorial Foundation ■ Visit of The Wall has special Day, but year-round. formed and the mission clari- all veterans but focus on local In the spring of 2010, Coweta “We want to keep everyone fied, the group decided to host Vietnam vets, including the 23 meaning, page 22 veterans Malcolm Jackson and aware of the sacrifices of all an annual event honoring vet- Cowetans who died fighting ■ 23 Cowetans listed on Memorial, Joe Brooks, Maj. Gen. U.S. our veterans, including their erans. In October 2010, the the Vietnam War. CVA member Steve Army (retired), formed an families, who stayed home to CVA sponsored its first page 23 Quesinberry is chairman of the organization called the Coweta take care of business.”

Veterans Muster.

About top photo: Commission on Veterans The event included a cere- Social Studies Department at With that goal in mind, The crowd gathers at dedication ceremonies for the Vietnam Veterans Affairs, or CVA. Jackson and Brooks spread the mony at the Veterans Memorial Newnan High School and has Memorial in Washington, D.C., on November 13, 1982. Coweta County The group’s goal was simple. word about their mission. The Plaza in the Newnan city park for years taught a class about resident Hank Berkowitz was on the committee that organized, designed “Our mission has come to be CVA immediately received a at Jackson Street and Temple the Vietnam War. Quesinberry and built the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. Ever since Berkowitz returned from a tour of duty with the U.S. Marine Corps in Vietnam, he has worked summed up in two words: pub- proclamation of support from Avenue, plus a series of events See WALL, page 2 to improve programs and conditions for veterans.

Coweta County on the Court Square in downlic awareness,” Jackson said. the

Committee sparked project to bring Vietnam Memorial Moving Wall

Inside

October 2011

2 • Vietnam Veterans Memorial Moving Wall Edition • October 2011

VETERANS

Cowetans who went to Vietnam in the early days

By ALEX McRAE alex@newnan.com When President John F. Kennedy ordered 400 American Special Forces troops into Vietnam in May 1961, Newnan’s Mel Hayden had no idea he would soon join them.

In the fall of 1961 Hayden was a first lieutenant attending the U.S. Army’s Special Forces Officer Course at Fort Bragg, N.C. He had orders to proceed to Okinawa after completing the course, but when Kennedy decided to increase America’s advisory presence in Vietnam, Hayden was told to report to the Military Assistance Advisory Group, Vietnam (MAAG-V).

His orders required him to travel on commercial aircraft wearing civilian clothes.

“We didn’t want to advertise the fact that American soldiers were coming in,” Hayden said.

“We wanted to keep things very low key.”

Hayden joined approximately 3,000 other American military advisors in Vietnam. He remembers hearing Lt. General Lionel McGarr describe the “urgency” of the situation, but Hayden and his fellow advisors didn’t feel threatened at all.

“We were just there to train the South Vietnamese soldiers,” Hayden said. “We thought we’d just whip those guys into shape, and they’d be able to take care of things.”

Hayden spent five months at South Vietnam’s Infantry and Armor Schools advising a com-

pany of enlisted men hoping to qualify as officers. He was then transferred to a South Vietnamese Ranger training facility at Trung Lap and quickly realized the Vietnamese “Rangers” bore no resemblance to their American counterparts.

“They were just infantry rifle companies who never had American-style Ranger training,” Hayden said. “But they worked hard and did their best and we helped them as much as we could.”

Hayden and his fellow advisors trained the Vietnamese in basic marksmanship, communications, unarmed combat and Ranger patrolling tactics, including ambush, reconnaissance and raids.

The Americans then followed the South Vietnamese trainees into the field to watch them put their lessons to work against a live, armed enemy — North Vietnamese troops.

“We were just getting started,” Hayden said. “They needed a lot of work and we gave it to them.”

In December 1962, Hayden returned to Fort Bragg and joined the 5th Special Forces Group. Six months later he was promoted to captain and sent back to Vietnam in command of a 12-man team that recruited and trained more than 800 Vietnamese troops between July and December of 1963.

Hayden’s group also fought for the hearts and minds of the Vietnamese people. His team’s two medics ran a medical facility for Vietnamese civilians, trained village health workers and ran “sick calls” for locals that often drew 75 to 100 people a day.

They also spent plenty of time in enemy territory teaching South Vietnamese soldiers the combat trade.

“We took some casualties,” Hayden said. “On my second tour things were a little more serious. We were training troops to guard villages and we could put them into as much hot water as we wanted. We didn’t make it too hard on them, but it was still dangerous work.”

The day President Kennedy was killed, Hayden had just placed 300 troops near the Cambodian border. He remembers the Vietnamese thinking Kennedy’s assassination was part of an attempt to overthrow the American government.

“They didn’t understand American politics at all,” Hayden said. “There were coup attempts all the time in Vietnam, and for them political assassinations were just business as usual. They thought it was that way in America, too.”

In the summer of 1962, halfway through Hayden’s first Vietnam deployment, Newnan’s David Markby arrived in Saigon just days after completing Army basic and advanced training.

“They sent me over pretty quick,” Markby said. “We didn’t

Mel Hayden

David Markby

Chuck Crawford

even know where Vietnam was.”

Markby worked as a radiotelegraph operator for an Army unit stationed at Tan Son Nhut Air Force Base outside Saigon. The base was also his home. In fact he helped build the tent city at Tan Son Nhut that would soon house some of the thousands of American advisors that were pouring into the country.

“We put up the tents and then we lived in them,” Markby said.

Markby spent his days sending and receiving messages between American advisors overseeing South Vietnamese Army combat operations.

“We heard lots of traffic about battles and knew our people were out there. But it really wasn’t a big deal,” Markby said.

After six months, Markby

swapped his tent at Tan Son Nhut for a room at the Hung Dao Hotel in Saigon. The accommodations were better, but the security situation was worse.

“There were bombs going off all the time in Saigon,” Markby said. “None of us were ever hurt, but you had to be careful.

We were especially worried about villagers who worked in the fields all day and came to town at night to blow things up.

Nobody wore uniforms, so you never knew who the enemy was.”

Markby said that as he watched planes packed with advisors fly into Tan Son Nhut each day, he knew the American presence was building but he and his fellow soldiers weren’t concerned.

“Nobody was shooting at us,” he said. “We were just doing our duty. We weren’t really

scared or worried about anything.”

Neither were his folks back home.

“I remember telling my mother I was going to Vietnam, and none of us thought anything about it,” Markby said.

The U.S. buildup in Vietnam gained more urgency in October 1962, when U.S. spy planes photographed Soviet troops building a nuclear missile base in Cuba — just 90 miles from America.

Kennedy’s threat to engage in nuclear war if necessary ended what came to be called the “Cuban Missile Crisis” and convinced the Soviets to dismantle the Cuban base. But the act of Communist aggression so close to home made Kennedy more determined than ever to aid the South

See EARLY DAYS, page 3

Committee sparked project WALL Continued from page 1 is aware of all Vietnam-related activities and said he was impressed by displays of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Moving Wall, a traveling halfsize replica of the memorial in Washington, D.C., known as “The Wall That Heals.”

Quesinberry investigated the possibility of bringing The Wall to Coweta. Possible dates were discussed and arrangements were made to bring The Wall That Heals to Coweta County from Oct. 20-23.

“Then we got busy spreading the word,” Jackson said.

Jackson and other committee members spoke to more than 35 groups to promote the upcoming visit of The Wall and solicit public and financial support needed to bring The Wall to Coweta and host a days-long exhibit and associated events.

“We have been every place you can think of and have yet to hear a single negative comment about what we are doing,” Jackson said. “The public has been remarkably supportive. I can’t say enough about how supportive Coweta County has been to all of us.”

In addition to The Wall, other exhibits, including military memorabilia provided by

area veterans, will be on display. Arrangements have also been made for both a Huey and a Chinook helicopter to be on site in static displays. The two helicopters were among the most iconic images of the Vietnam War. The Wall and associated displays will be set up at the Coweta County Fairgrounds.

The decision was made to keep all exhibits open 24 hours a day once The Wall was in place.

CVA members issued a call for volunteers to serve as guides and escorts and provide security during the event. It was estimated 100 volunteers would be needed. CVA members were astounded by the response.

“We had so many people offer to help that we will be able to staff the entire event with Vietnam vets who served in country,” Jackson said. “We had so many volunteers we didn’t know what to do with all of them. It was very gratifying.”

Two training sessions were held to ensure that volunteers and CVA members would be ready to solve any problems or answer any questions visitors may have.

The Coweta County Board of Education has also backed the project in a big way. On Oct. 20 and 21, students from all Coweta high schools, elementary and middle schools will be

Members of the Coweta Commission on Veterans Affairs. From left: Steve Quesinberry, Don Harvel, Hank Berkowitz, Jeff Carroll, Malcolm Jackson, Dick Stender, Lynn Geddie, Joe Brooks and Tom Downey.

taken to the Fairgrounds to visit the exhibit, talk with veterans and view displays that are part of The Wall exhibit.

Throughout the week, families of those killed in Vietnam who were from Coweta or listed with Coweta as their military “home of record” will be special guests at several events.

Those families will also be honored at Closing Day ceremonies on Oct. 23 honoring Coweta dead whose names are

inscribed on The Wall.

CVA members say preparations are complete and they are looking forward to the appearance of “The Wall That Heals.”

Jackson said he is especially looking forward to the motorcycle caravan that will accompany the trailer bearing The Wall through Coweta County.

The plan calls for a small group of local motorcycle riders to meet the vehicle carrying The

‘The Wall That Heals’ schedule of events EVENTS Continued from page 1 elementary school students attending the exhibit will have the opportunity to attend the ceremonies, visit The Wall traveling museum, view the Huey helicopter and the Vietnam era displays, meet and talk to Vietnam-era veterans and volunteers, and visit The Wall.

■ Thursday, Oct. 20 through Saturday, Oct. 22, 8 p.m. Daily.

Candlelight vigil ceremony at “The Wall That Heals.” Each daily candlelight ceremony will include an invocation led by a Vietnam War-era chaplain and bagpipe music.

■ Friday, Oct. 21.

Students from Coweta County elementary and middle schools visit The Wall. Exhibits remain open for all visitors.

■ Saturday, Oct. 22, 11 a.m.

Muster Day II events begin, including wreath-laying ceremony at 11 a.m. at The Wall.

Veterans will display military mementos and memorabilia as part of the Newnan High Student-Vet Connect program.

Books about the Vietnam War era written by local authors will be signed.

Note: At each of the week’s events, books about the Vietnam War era written by

local authors will be available for sale and autographing at the Coweta County Fairgrounds.

■ Sun, Oct. 23, 2011, 2 p.m.

Muster Day II Events: “The Wall That Heals” ceremony honoring and recognizing the families of Cowetans who died in Vietnam and their families.

Ceremony recognizing the 132nd Helicopter Unit and 16th Transportation Detachment, both of which were officially adopted by the city of Newnan in 1968 just prior to deployment to Vietnam.

Location: Coweta County Fairgrounds, Main Ball Room.

■ Sun, Oct. 23, 5 p.m.

“The Wall That Heals” — Closing Ceremony.

Location: Wall exhibit at the Coweta County Fairgrounds.

The Wall will officially close at 6 p.m.

Food vendors, including the Newnan Rotary Club and the Coweta Veterans Club, will staff and prepare food that will be sold at two booths at the fairgrounds complex. Several churches have volunteered to help feed the attendees, volunteers, and participants at the various scheduled events.

■ With the exception of the performance of “The Things They Carried” on Sunday, Oct. 16 at the Centre for Performing and Visual Arts, all activities, including The Wall exhibit at the fairgrounds, will be free of charge to the public.

The entire week-long lineup of events will be paid for solely by generous donations from the public and will be staffed by volunteers.

See the official Coweta Commission on Veterans Affairs Traveling Wall flyer for opportunities to make donations. For donor purposes, Coweta Commission on Veterans Affairs Inc. is a 501(c)3 organization. Donations may also be made via PayPal. See the Donations section on the following: Donation Flyers are available on the website and Facebook: Website: cowetacova.org.

Facebook: ccvaNewnan.

Wall at the South Carolina state line and escort the vehicle south down I-85 toward Newnan.

When the group reaches south Fulton County, a group of several hundred patriotic motorcycles organized by the Great South HOG Chapter will join the motorcade as it proceeds toward Coweta.

After tuning off I-85 at Newnan Exit 47, the convoy will move down Bullsboro

Drive, pass through downtown Newnan and make a loop around Newnan High School to be greeted by students before traveling on to the Coweta County Fairgrounds on Pine Road south of Newnan.

“It’s going to be a great week,” Jackson said. “I can’t wait to see it all happen. This whole event is something I feel sure everyone will appreciate and enjoy. Especially our veterans.”

EDITORIAL

Let all Cowetans join Muster to honor our Vietnam veterans (Editor’s Note: A version of this editorial was published in the July 10, 2011, edition of The Newnan Times-Herald as the newspaper began its series on the Vietnam War.) One of the most anticipated events planned in our community this year is the October 2011 Veterans Muster.

Events are scheduled at the Coweta County Fairgrounds Oct. 20-23.

This year’s Muster will focus on honoring and remembering our veterans of t h e Vietnam War. Jones T h e highlight of this special program will be the Vietnam Memorial Moving Wall, a half-sized replica of the Vietnam Memorial Wall on The Mall in Washington, D.C., which contains the names of our mili-

tary personnel who lost their lives in the Vietnam War. The Wall includes 23 names from Coweta County.

If you have seen the Vietnam Memorial Wall in our nation’s capital or have visited the Moving Wall during its travels around the country, you know what an emotional experience it is just to stand in front of these monuments.

We have seen many tears shed at The Wall in Washington, and also at appearances of the Moving Wall in other communities.

We hope all Cowetans will f ind time to drop by the Fairgrounds and see this very special display. It will be a touching moment for you.

We salute the Coweta Commission on Veterans Affairs, the organizing group for the annual Muster. We think it’s especially fitting to honor and recognize our Vietnam veterans on this year that Congress has declared as the 50th anniversary of the

beginning of the Vietnam War. Vietnam was a very unpopular war. Our veterans who fought there did not come home to a hero’s welcome.

Quite the contrary. Many came home to protests and very disparaging words and gestures.

That shouldn’t have happened, because our Vietnam veterans served our country with great honor in a war that was unlike any war ever.

Through the years life has been tough for many Vietnam veterans. More recently, these veterans have started to receive the respect and the recognition they deserve.

This 2011 Veterans Muster and Moving Wall will be an emotional experience. It can go a long way to helping heal some of the wounds. It will give our community an opportunity to show and to tell our Vietnam veterans how proud we are of them and their service.

October 2011 • Vietnam Veterans Memorial Moving Wall Edition • 3

VETERANS

LBJ wins re-election, and war begins in earnest

By ALEX McRAE alex@newnan.com In August 1964, the U.S. Congress authorized President Lyndon Johnson to commit combat troops to Vietnam, but before he could implement his battle plan, Johnson had a more important piece of business to handle: Getting re-elected.

With antiwar sentiment building in the U.S. — largely on college campuses — Johnson did not want to look like a warmonger, even though his military advisors were already drawing up battle plans.

On the campaign trail Johnson said, “We are not about to send American boys nine or ten thousand miles away from home to do what Asian boys ought to be doing for themselves.”

It was easy for Johnson to project a peaceful image against Republican candidate Barry Goldwater, an arch-conservative who argued for more aggressive action in Vietnam and a stronger stance against the Soviet Union and its allies around the world.

Two weeks before the election, East-West tensions grew

when China exploded its first atomic bomb. On Nov. 1, 1964, Vietcong guerrillas attacked the Bien Hoa Air Base, just north of Saigon. Five Americans were killed, but Johnson continued to play peacemaker and refused to mount a retaliatory attack. Two days later, Johnson was reelected in a landslide and preparations for war began in earnest.

Advisors recommended the campaign start with air attacks while Army Special Forces units established bases in remote areas of the country.

Americans soon learned no place in Vietnam was safe.

On Feb. 6, 1965, Vietcong guerrillas attacked the American military compound at Pleiku in the Central Highlands. Eight Americans died, 126 were wounded.

Johnson said, “I’ve had enough of this,” and ordered Navy jets to bomb North Vietnamese targets. One month later, U.S. Marines were sent to

Some Vietnamese children admire the jeep Adrien Neely is driving.

guard the American air base at Danang from Vietcong guerrillas gathering nearby.

Despite increasing antiwar efforts at home, polls showed 80 percent approval for America’s military involvement in Vietnam. Those poll numbers began to change in March 1965, with the start of an intensive bombing campaign against North Vietnam called Operation Rolling Thunder.

Just weeks later, 15,000 students gathered in Washington, D.C., to protest the bombing.

There was a brief pause, then the bombing resumed. In May 1965, Coweta’s Adrien Neely arrived in Vietnam. And he was glad to be there.

Neely, a member of the U.S. Air Force, had spent the brutal winter of 1965 shivering at Little Rock Air Force Base in Arkansas. He volunteered to go to Vietnam for a change of climate.

“Things didn’t seem too bad over there, and I really wanted some warmer weather — so I volunteered for Vietnam,” Neely said.

Neely spent his first six months at Bien Hoa Air Base.

There were occasional mortar attacks, but Neely said, “Overall, it was pretty nice duty.”

Neely and his fellow airmen often took a shuttle bus to Saigon after work, ate dinner and did some sightseeing.

“We were like any other tourists,” he said. “We didn’t feel like there was much to worry about.”

In July 1965, 44 combat battalions arrived in Vietnam, bringing the total number of U.S. troops there to 125,000.

“It definitely started heating up,” Neely said. “There were more mortar attacks, and we were all a little more anxious.”

Neely was a member of the Air Police. His unit met shipments of munitions and arms

Adrien Neely

Larry Phillips

Ken Rose

at the port of Ben Cat on the Saigon River, then escorted convoys of tractor-trailers loaded with munitions to air bases at Bien Hoa and Tan Son Nhut.

Neely’s unit rarely encountered enemy opposition, but he heard from ground troops that things were not as easy farther afield.

“Soldiers told me they weren’t allowed to fire their guns unless they were fired upon,” Neely said. “They didn’t like that at all. But all the guys I served with or met knew their job and they did it well.”

Neely spent his last six months in Vietnam at the Tan Son Nhut Air Force Base just outside Saigon. He said that aside from small mortar attacks, “things were not bad at all.”

That changed the day Neely turned in his arms and equipment as he prepared to leave Vietnam and come home. That night, Vietcong guerrillas mounted a major mortar attack against Tan Son Nhut that badly damaged the fuel depot, killed several Americans and started fires that burned for days.

“It was a big deal,” Neely

said. “People were pretty upset.”

When Neely arrived in San Francisco in May 1966, the antiwar movement was gathering momentum, but Neely said he was not bothered by protesters upon reaching home.

“We weren’t abused by anyone,” he said. “It was fine.”

Neely said he never doubted the merit of the country’s Vietnam mission. “I think we were there for the right reasons,” he said. “We were trying to do something good for those poor oppressed people.”

The U.S. Navy played a major role in the 1965 bombing attacks against North Vietnam.

Newnan’s Larry Phillips had a front row seat for the action when he arrived aboard the aircraft carrier USS Independence in the fall of 1965. As soon as the Independence sailed from Norfolk to Vietnam, Phillips knew it wasn’t business as usual.

“There was no doubt we were in a war by then,” he said.

“I thought, ‘well, we’re into something.’” Just weeks after arriving in Vietnam, the Independence joined an intensive 100-day bombing cam-

paign against North Vietnamese targets.

Phillips’ job was arming and de-arming missiles and bombs from U.S. Navy F-4 Phantom fighter planes that were soon refitted to carry large bomb loads as F4-B fighter-bombers.

The combat operations never slowed down.

“Those planes flew 24 hours a day, seven days a week,” Phillips said. “They never stopped.”

The planes carried missiles and an assortment of bombs filled with everything from explosives to napalm. During October 1965, Navy planes spearheaded massive bomb raids involving planes from several aircraft carriers.

“When all those planes got up, they filled the sky,” Phillips said.

“It was an unbelievable sight.”

American planes encountered conventional antiaircraft fire and something new: Soviet-made, surface-to-air missiles. Navy pilots didn’t blink a eye.

“Those planes came back full of holes and pretty beat up,” Phillips said. “Sometimes they flew in so low on bombing runs

Cowetans in the early days EARLY DAYS Continued from page 2 Vietnamese against North Vietnamese forces, which by then were openly supported and supplied by the Soviets.

By the time Coweta’s Chuck Crawford arrived in Vietnam as an Army captain in June 1963, an estimated 14,000 American advisors were already there.

Crawford got a taste of what Vietnam would be like when his first orientation session in Saigon had to be relocated because a bicycle packed with explosives blew up at the building where he and other new arrivals were scheduled to meet.

“It was an eye-opener,” Crawford said. “But we didn’t worry about it too much. We just went about our business.”

Crawford was assigned to Military Assistance Command, Vietnam (MAC-V), and served as an advisor to the 14th Civil Guard Battalion in Pleiku. Most of the soldiers he trained were Montagnards, an indigenous ethnic group located largely in Vietnam’s central highlands.

“The Vietnamese didn’t like the Montagnards,” Crawford says. “They treated them the way Americans used to treat Indians. But they were loyal and supportive of their leadership and they were fierce fighters, too. They were good soldiers.”

Crawford spent a lot of time visiting village leaders across Pleiku Province to build support for the American presence. “We went out all the time spreading the message of democracy and goodwill,” he said. “That was a big part of the job.”

But the job also included advising on combat operations and Crawford soon learned that being an American advisor didn’t guarantee your safety in a firefight. In fact, quite the opposite.

“The North Vietnamese didn’t like us being there and didn’t mind showing it,” Crawford said.

The base at Pleiku was home to an American helicopter battalion. Choppers were used to ferry supplies and equipment throughout the area and helicopter gunships went along to provide security.

American advisors sometimes rode in gunships to battle sites to oversee combat operations and help troops on the ground distinguish between friendly and enemy forces.

One day a gunship carrying

Crawford was shot full of holes by an enemy machine gun.

American advisors were under strict orders not to shoot unless they were fired upon, but Crawford said that order was largely ignored. “If we saw the bad guys we didn’t wait to get shot at,” he said. “I wasn’t going to give anybody a crack at me for free.”

Crawford — a career soldier who joined the Army in 1954 and served until retiring in 1986 as a colonel — said he and his fellow advisors were actually glad to see some combat action.

“We had spent a lot of time training to be soldiers and we were ready to put what we had learned into practice,” he said.

“We were doing our duty and nobody was particularly apprehensive about it.”

When Kennedy was assassinated Crawford didn’t notice any immediate change in military operations. But not long after Lyndon Johnson was sworn in as president, the American strategy in Vietnam shifted dramatically.

Kennedy had wanted to support the South Vietnamese financially and militarily as they fought for their own freedom against North Vietnam.

Johnson wanted to win the war, and the sooner the better.

Johnson became more and more frustrated by the South Vietnamese Army’s lack of success and decided the only way to win the war was to put American combat troops into action. But he couldn’t do it as long as Americans served in a strictly “advisory” capacity.

Johnson needed a reason to send U.S. troops to war. In August 1964, a minor skirmish between an American naval destroyer and North Vietnamese torpedo boats in the Gulf of Tonkin gave Johnson the excuse he needed to send U.S forces into battle against North Vietnam.

Johnson talked Congress into passing the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution, which authorized “all necessary action” to protect U.S. forces in Vietnam. In a televised address to the nation, Johnson said that more troops were necessary to protect American forces serving as advisors in Vietnam. He then assured citizens that “...the United States seeks no wider war.”

At the time, American deaths in Vietnam since 1956 were fewer than 400. That number was about to skyrocket.

See EARNEST, page 4

Threat of Communism drew U.S. into Vietnam

By ALEX McRAE alex@newnan.com

David Markby, left, with some buddies.

During a field patrol near the Cambodian border, Chuck Crawford talks to Captain Can (in glasses), commander of the 14th Civil Guard Battalion. Crawford was a U.S. military advisor to Can's battalion.

Crawford was assigned to Military Assistance Command, Vietnam (MAC-V), and served as an advisor to the 14th Civil Guard Battalion in Pleiku.

David Markby poses outside part of the huge tent city he lived in and helped build at Tan Son Nhut Air Force base outside Saigon.

The atomic bombs that fell on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Japan, in August 1945 hastened the end of World War II, but it wasn’t long before America felt threatened by another enemy. It was not a military power, but an ideology: Communism.

After World War II, America’s former wartime ally, the Soviet Union, moved quickly to expand its influence in eastern Europe.

Communist China did the same in Southeast Asia.

The fear of communism turned from a political sideshow to a vision of global apocalypse in August 1949, when the Soviet Union exploded its f irst atomic bomb. As the U.S. and Soviet Union built vast nuclear arsenals, Americans built bomb shelters and trained to survive a potential nuclear war.

America’s leaders vowed to slow or stop communist expansion wherever it appeared.

President Harry Truman rushed to assure allies in Western Europe that America would defend them against Soviet aggression. When Soviet-backed North Korean troops tried to overrun the fledgling democracy in South Korea, U.S. troops led United Nations forces that fought from 1950 to 1953 to keep South Korea free and independent. Almost 37,000 Americans died in the effort.

At the same time, France was struggling to hold onto its former colony in Vietnam, which had been lost to Japan during World War II. Shortly after communist North Vietnamese forces pushed France out of Vietnam forever at the battle of Dien Bien Phu in May 1954, members of the Geneva Convention agreed to divide Vietnam into two zones at the 17th parallel.

The northern zone was to be governed by the communist-backed Viet Minh. The southern zone was headed by former Vietnamese emperor Bao Dai. The Geneva agreement stated that nationwide elections would be held by 1956 to unify the country.

Those elections were never held.

Instead, a communist insurgency led by Viet Minh leader

Ho Chi Minh began guerrilla raids against South Vietnam.

U.S. President Dwight Eisenhower vowed to defend South Vietnam, and in January 1955 the first shipment of U.S. aid arrived in Vietnam.

Months later Ho Chi Minh agreed to accept aid from the Soviets.

Over the next four years North Vietnamese forces intensif ied guerrilla raids against South Vietnam. In 1959, Ho Chi Minh declared a “People’s War” to unite Vietnam under Communist rule. By then, more than 300 American military advisors were assisting South Vietnamese forces. The work was hard and dangerous.

On July 8, 1959, American advisors Major Dale Buis and Sgt. Chester Ovnand were killed by North Vietnamese guerrillas. Theirs are the first two names on the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington, D.C., making them the first official deaths of what Americans came to know as the Vietnam War. Just months earlier, fears of global communist aggression had struck even closer to home when, on Jan. 3, 1959, Marxist revolutionary Fidel Castro took control of Cuba and quickly turned to the Soviet Union for support.

John F. Kennedy was elected president in November 1960.

During the campaign, Kennedy vowed to stop the spread of Communism in Southeast Asia.

But first he had to deal with a threat closer to home: Cuba.

Three months after his inauguration, Kennedy authorized the invasion of Cuba by a group of CIA-trained Cuban exiles with little or no combat experience. The invasion took place at an inlet called The Bay of Pigs. The operation was a disaster as Fidel Castro’s forces smashed the “invaders” in three days.

A frustrated Kennedy was desperate to make a stand against Communism. He decided to concentrate his efforts half a world away, far from the American people and press corps.

In May 1961, Kennedy sent 400 American Green Beret Special Forces advisors to Vietnam to train South Vietnamese troops to fight North Vietnamese guerrillas.

American involvement in Vietnam was now set in stone.

4 • Vietnam Veterans Memorial Moving Wall Edition • October 2011

VETERANS

After LBJ’s inauguration, Marines arrive in Vietnam

By ALEX McRAE alex@newnan.com As President Lyndon Johnson campaigned for reelection in 1964, his staff was drawing up plans to send U.S. ground forces to Vietnam.

Two months after Johnson’s January 1965 inauguration, the U.S. Marines arrived at Danang Air Force Base. Other ground combat forces weren’t far behind.

Rather than retreat from Johnson’s buildup, Vietcong guerrillas in South Vietnam intensified their efforts. Raids against American installations increased in number and ferocity.

In May 1965, a massive Vietcong force was threatening to overrun the American base at Bien Hoa and the 173rd Airborne Brigade (Separate) was sent to relieve South Vietnamese Army (ARVN) troops in danger of being overrun.

The 173rd, a speciallyequipped and trained unit, had been designated as the quick reaction force for the Pacific Command, ready to respond to a crisis immediately. The unit was known as the “Fire Brigade.” Coweta’s Eddie Hall

was part of it.

“When we got there Bien Hoa was under siege,” Hall said. “There were VC everywhere. We landed, cleaned them up and got out of there.

We were like firemen.

Wherever things got hot, that’s where we went. Our only job was to fight and we did plenty of it.”

During a year in Vietnam, Hall went on 32 combat missions in every part of the country, but he says one of his most memorable encounters came when he was expecting a day off.

Hall, his machine-gunner Rick Hughes and an interpreter were assigned to guard a bridge to keep unwelcome guests away during a meeting of local village chiefs. No one expected trouble and Hall and his two companions were told they would get a steak dinner with all the trimmings while they stood guard.

“We thought it was going to be a picnic,” Hall said.

South Vietnamese troops

During his second tour of Vietnam, Charlie Finn flew a single-engine Cessna “Bird Dog” plane to scout enemy positions. He crashed one when a rudder cable failed on landing. The next day, he posed with it.

were supposed to keep the river below the bridge free of any traffic. They didn’t, and before the steak dinner was delivered, Hall’s group spotted seven suspicious boats coming down the river toward the bridge.

After Hughes fired warning shots, Vietcong guerrillas uncovered themselves and began firing back from all seven boats. Hall radioed for help. Hughes took out the lead boat with his M-60 machine gun while Hall sank the last boat with his M-79 grenade launcher.

In minutes American helicopter gunships arrived and started blasting the boats and their Vietcong passengers.

The steak dinner went off later than planned, but the incident made the front page of the “Stars & Stripes,” the U.S. military’s newspaper.

“That’s how it was,” Hall said. “You never knew what you were going to run into.”

On Nov. 8, 1965, a unit of the 173rd was attacked by a force of more than 1,200 Vietcong.

Hall’s unit raced to the scene, helped win the fight and spent the next 18 days pursuing retreating Vietcong.

“Wherever they went we were right on them,” Hall said.

“We made them pay for that one.”

In September 1965, the U.S. Army’s 1st Cavalry Division (Airmobile) arrived in Vietnam and set up operations at An Khe. Newnan’s Gene Kleese joined them in early October.

Kleese was an Army Captain with the 2nd Battalion of the 1st Cav’s 20th regiment. He piloted a UH1-B Huey helicopter equipped with 24 rockets as part of an Aerial Rocket Artillery (ARA) unit. Kleese’s job was to pour aerial artillery on enemy ground troops.

The “Airmobile” concept was brand new and relied on the use of helicopters for moving troops, arms and equipment in and out of battles and from place to place. Army brass were convinced Airmobile was the right strategy for fighting in terrain like Vietnam, where jungle clearings were few and roads were often non-existent or impassable.

As soon as Kleese arrived he started practicing his trade in

Charlie Finn

Eddie Hall

Gene Kleese

small unit engagements.

On Oct. 19, the U.S. Special Forces base at Plei Mei was attacked by a large contingent of North Vietnamese Army (NVA) regulars. Several 1st Cavalry units helped assure a U.S. victory then started searching for the NVA force, which seemed to have melted into the jungle.

The search for enemy troops went on for weeks up and down the Ia Drang valley (Ia is Vietnamese for “river”).

Several small battles ensued.

Then, on Nov. 14, a 1st Cav battalion searching an area near Chu Pong mountain unexpectedly stumbled across the main NVA force, but didn’t realize at first that the enemy numbered in the thousands.

“Nobody had a clue that many NVA troops were there,” Kleese said. “We were just putting guys in there to check things out and the battle erupted.”

Kleese said it wasn’t long before a radio call arrived saying “this thing is bigger than we thought” and requesting that choppers and ARA be sent to the fight.

Kleese and his crew saddled up and headed for the bloody battle of Ia Drang, which would later be immortalized in the book and movie “We Were Soldiers Once... and Young.”

Kleese spent the afternoon and much of the night on Nov. 14 firing rockets, dodging enemy fire, flying back to rearm and doing it all again.

The ARA fire was directed

by Forward Observers (FOs), who spotted enemy troops and directed the ARA rocket fire.

Kleese said the smoke from the battlefield was so thick he often had to help the FOs find the “bad guys.” He remembers one FO standing behind a huge termite mound and trying to explain his position and how close the enemy troops were.

Kleese helped the FO fix his own position then the FO told Kleese the enemy was only 30 yards away. Kleese fired rockets into a clump of trees near the termite mound and asked if he was close to the target.

When the FO said, “That’s it!

That’s it!” Kleese and the other ARA choppers unloaded on a small wooded area. Trees and enemy troops began to disintegrate, and after the rockets were expended, Kleese checked back with the FO. “He said we had nailed it,” Kleese said. “You could tell.

The entire area was obliterated.”

The fight raged into the night. Kleese said you could tell the 1st Cav troops from the NVA by the color of their tracer bullets — red for U.S. troops, green-yellow for the NVA. On the second day of battle, Nov. 15, Kleese’s chopper suffered seven engine failures trying to leave the base and he had to get a new chopper to get back into the fight. As the battle wore on, the enemy bodies piled up. The fight raged and the casualties mounted on both sides.

On the afternoon of Nov. 15, Kleese stopped briefly at the landing zone and spoke to a 1st Cav officer. He remembers seeing dead NVA bodies stacked as deep as six high.

The final body count was

later estimated at more than 2,000.

“I’ll never forget that pile of bodies,” Kleese said. “It really shakes you to see something like that.”

Newnan’s Charlie Finn saw the entire battle from the ground.

Finn was with the 2nd Battalion of the 7th Regiment of the 1st Cav. He arrived in Vietnam in late summer of 1965, joined his unit at An Khe and served as point man on several small actions against enemy forces.

After the Special Forces camp at Plei Mei was attacked in October, Finn’s unit went there to provide security for the base. Meanwhile, other elements of the 1st Cav were scouring the Ia Drang valley in pursuit of the NVA regulars who had attacked Plei Mei. During a “search and destroy” mission near Chu Pong mountain, a battalion of the 1st Cav encountered a large enemy force and a major battle broke out.

Finn’s unit was ordered to join the fight at a location called Landing Zone X-Ray (LZ X-Ray).

When he arrived, the fight was raging.

“It was a hot LZ for sure,” Finn said. “They had told us the guys there were getting heavy contact and they weren’t kidding. It was so busy nobody really knew what was going on.

We just got dropped right into the middle of it.”

Finn said the shooting rarely stopped on Nov. 14, but he and

See MARINES, page 5

War begins in earnest EARNEST Continued from page 3 they came back with tree branches stuck in their ailerons. It was scary, but those Navy pilots are a different breed. They lived for it.”

American pilots sometimes engaged in aerial combat with Soviet-made Mig fighters.

Phillips said it was widely believed the planes weren’t flown by North Vietnamese pilots.

“Those enemy pilots were too good,” Phillips said. “We thought they were probably Russians.”

Phillips said the non-stop flight tempo was exhausting and his crew often worked 36 hours straight, with only a few hours of rest.

“I was just worn out,” he said. “The heat on the flight deck made it that much worse, but there was never a break. As soon as those planes got back, we’d get them re-armed and back in the air as soon as we could. It never ended.”

Getting the ground war started took a little more time.

While a Navy carrier could show up ready to rumble, moving men, arms and supplies into the field was a major logistical challenge.

The U.S. Marine Corps was the first U.S. ground force to arrive in Vietnam, landing at Danang Air Force Base in March 1965. One month later,

Newnan’s Ken Rose reported to the Third Marine Division headquarters in Danang as a first lieutenant. As troops, supplies and equipment poured in, Marine leaders struggled to keep on top of the situation.

“It was total confusion at first,” Rose said. “There was really a lot going on.”

Initially, only platoon or companys i z e d groups went out to assess the situaNewnan’s Ken tion on the Rose poses proud- g r o u n d . h e ly in his U.S. Marine T Corps uniform in M a r i n e s encounthe 1960s. tered small groups of Vietcong guerrillas, but were not overly concerned.

“There wasn’t a whole lot going on,” Rose said.

“Everybody was gung-ho at first, but it didn’t take long for the bloom to wear off.

Sometimes, it was boring, but they did their duty. They did what Marines do.”

The situation changed drastically in August 1965, when Rose and his fellow Marines were jarred awake in the middle of the night as a large, wellcoordinated grenade attack against the Danang base destroyed 12 Marine helicopters, including the one Rose traveled in.

Coweta’s Adrien Neely was in the crowd when legendary entertainer Bob Hope brought his touring show to entertain troops at Bien Hoa Air Base in 1965.

Newnan’s Larry Phillips, back, second from right, and fellow crewman aboard the aircraft carrier USS Independence pose in front of an F4-B fighter-bomber after setting a record during a massive Naval bombardment of North Vietnam in October 1965.

Soldiers from the South Vietnamese Army (ARVN) were supposed to be on guard duty, but Rose said some did the job half-heartedly, if at all.

That night, the enemy breached the perimeter at Danang with no problem.

The Marines killed their attackers and didn’t suffer any casualties, but Rose said what they discovered after the smoke cleared was disturbing.

The bodies of the attackers were identified not as Vietcong guerrillas, but members of the North Vietnamese Army (NVA).

Until then, Marine Corps actions had been geared toward suppressing small guerrilla attacks from the Vietcong. The presence of NVA regulars changed the tactical equation completely.

“None of us even suspected the North Vietnamese Army was in South Vietnam until then,” Rose said. “The ARVN (South Vietnamese army) was getting creamed, and we figured if the NVA had shown up we were going to have some problems.”

Three months later, in a battle in the Ia Drang valley that inspired the book and movie “We Were Soldiers Once, And Young,” Rose’s suspicions were confirmed.

A day after a massive mortar attack by Vietcong guerrillas, the fuel depot at Tan Son Nhut Air Force base is still burning as Adrien Neely prepares to board a plane for home.

A supply boat waits on the Saigon River at the port of Ben Cat after Larry Phillips, left, helps load a unloading munitions and arms for shipment to American bases in 1,000-pound bomb aboard an Bien Hoa and Saigon.

F4-B Navy fighter-bomber.

October 2011 • Vietnam Veterans Memorial Moving Wall Edition • 5

VETERANS

By 1966, Vietnam saw buildup of U.S. soldiers

By ALEX McRAE alex@newnan.com In December 1965, President Lyndon Johnson’s advisors convinced him the only way to win in Vietnam was to send a massive ground force halfway around the world.

On Jan. 1, 1966, U.S. forces totaled 184,000. Twelve months later, more than 385,000 Americans were in Vietnam.

At the same time the troops were pouring into Vietnam, network TV was bringing the world’s first televised war into American homes each night.

Politicians tried to minimize public relations problems — and civilian casualties — by imposing new rules of military engagement, including a standing order that ground troops could not fire until fired upon and then only “proportionately” to the attack.

Soldiers determined to survive largely ignored such polit-

ically correct warnings, but still went to battle every day with their hands tied.

The enemy had no such restrictions — especially the Vietcong guerrillas, who mounted more and more operations designed to produce the highest body count and the most disturbing pictures for the American TV audience.

Anywhere a crowd of Americans gathered was a prime target for Vietcong guerrillas. And in early 1966, none was better than the Victoria Hotel in downtown Saigon, which had been taken over by the U.S. military to provide housing for American officers.

Coweta’s Don Rehman arrived for his first tour of Vietnam in January 1966, serv-

ing as a major in the U.S. Army Signal Corps. Rehman, who later retired as an Army colonel, was charged with advising and training the South Vietnamese Army Signal Corps. He said the South Vietnamese soldiers were dedicated troops who did their jobs well.

Rehman was housed on the fifth floor of the Victoria Hotel and said he and his fellow soldiers were aware their quarters were in the enemy crosshairs.

“That hotel was full of Americans,” Rehman said. “It was a good target.”

As a security measure, huge concrete barriers were placed in front of the hotel to prevent potential bombers from driving into the building. But Saigon civilians complained about having to walk into the street to avoid the barriers. Rehman said a senior U.S. military official decided to show that the Americans were “fearless” by

Don Rehman

removing several barriers in front of the hotel’s entrance.

The Vietcong noticed and about 5:10 a.m. on April 1, 1966, guerrillas drove a two-and-ahalf-ton truck packed with explosives past the remaining barriers and straight toward the hotel lobby. American MPs on security duty attacked the Vietcong and sent the truck crashing into the front wall of the hotel instead of inside the lobby as the attackers had planned.

The resulting blast still demolished the front of the hotel and caused extensive damage to the hotel’s first two floors, including the first floor dining room, which was believed to be the attackers’ primary target.

Apparently, the Vietcong believed Americans started serving breakfast at 5 a.m. and timed their attack to hit the hotel when the ground floor Coweta's Don Rehman pictured dining room was packed with An American MP does crowd control following the April 1, 1966, while serving in the U.S. Army. soldiers. bombing of the Victoria Hotel in Saigon. Coweta's Don Rehman Rehman served two tours in Fortunately, the Vietcong Vietnam. was housed at the hotel at the time. were wrong. Americans didn’t

Willie Boyd

start breakfast until 5:30 a.m. and none were in the dining room when the blast devastated the building.

“If that bomb had gone off 10 or 20 minutes later we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” Rehman said.

Several Vietnamese civilian workers died in the blast. An American MP stationed at the hotel was shot when he raced to stop the attack and forced the truck into the front wall.

Another MP driving near the hotel when the bomb went off was killed in a firefight when he raced back to the hotel to help.

“They saved us all,” Rehman said.

Rehman was on the fifth floor and was uninjured, but the blast destroyed the communications facilities and he was unable to call his wife and tell her he was safe. Meanwhile, she saw the devastation on TV and thought the worst.

“My wife didn’t know what had happened,” Rehman said.

“She thought I was gone.”

Two days later Rehman finally managed to contact his wife and assure her he was safe.

Then he moved to other living quarters and continued his assignment.

“You never knew where the enemy was,” Rehman said. “It was a tough situation.”

While the Vietcong mounted guerrilla attacks, American and North Vietnamese troops fought from one end of the country to the other.

Americans won battle after battle, but the death toll continued to rise. Troops in the field knew, however, that the casualty count would have been much higher had wounded soldiers not received medical treatment as quickly as they did, and that timely treatment was only possible because injured men were taken from the field by medevac helicopters manned by pilots, crewmen and medics who routinely risked their lives to save their fellow soldiers.

The Army’s aeromedical evacuation effort was called “Dustoff.” The pilots who flew the medevac choppers were known as “Dustoff pilots.”

Coweta’s Willie Boyd was one of them.

Boyd was born and raised in the Cotton Valley community south of Tuskegee, Ala. Boyd attended Tuskegee University and graduated with a degree in biology in June 1966. He was in the advanced ROTC program and, upon graduation, was commissioned a second lieutenant in the U.S. Army and given a choice of joining the Army Reserve or serving on active duty.

See BUILDUP, page 6

Marines arrive

MARINES Continued from page 4 his men performed admirably with no loss of life. Finn gives thanks to his platoon leader, Rick Rescorla, who had trained the men relentlessly from the day the unit formed at Ft. Benning, Ga., going so far as to insist on weapons drills and hand-to-hand combat training during the month-long boat ride to Vietnam.

“I can tell you we were as well-trained as any soldiers ever were,” Finn said. “That training saved a lot of lives.”

The fighting continued through the night of Nov. 14 and into Nov. 15. Breaks were few and unpredictable.

“It was strange,” Finn said.

“You’d hear two or three shots and then everything would light up, and before you knew it, everybody was shooting.

Things could stop just as soon.

I don’t know how that happened.”

Finn’s company moved from place to place as battle evolved, but always faced heavy enemy fire — and rarely from more than 100 feet away.

“There was enemy fire all around the base,” Finn said.

“They were right on us. It never let up.”

The night of Nov. 15, Finn’s unit set up claymore mines, trip wires and flares on their perimeter to let them know if enemy forces approached.

Just after midnight, trip wires were breached over a wide area and flares started going off.

“It was pretty obvious a big force was out there,” Finn said.

“We couldn’t see them at first, but there were lots of them.”

As the enemy prepared its first charge, Finn heard the command “Fix bayonets!”

“That was the first time I ever heard that command and the last,” Finn said. “But you

Charlie Finn at the controls of an Army plane.

A UH1-B Huey helicopter like the one Newnan’s Gene Kleese flew in Vietnam. The chopper was equipped with 24 rockets and was part of an Aerial Rocket Artillery (ARA) unit.

knew when you heard it you were in a world of hurt. It wasn’t good.”

The enemy charged twice that night, often getting within 20-30 feet of Finn’s unit.

Just before dawn on Nov. 16, Finn’s unit was ordered to a new position. During the move, the enemy charged for a third time and Finn went down, thinking he had tripped. Then the fighting started again and Finn’s company was in hot water again for “15 or 20 minutes.”

When the shooting stopped Finn looked down and saw that his pants were wet. He put his hand over the wet spot and realized it was blood. He had been shot through the leg and, until then, hadn’t even noticed.

“The adrenaline was pumping so hard I didn’t know I’d been shot,” he said. “I thought I tripped and maybe that’s when I was hit. I’m really not sure.”

Three hours later, in the early morning hours of Nov. 16, the battle for LZ X-Ray was over. Finn was flown to a hospital in Qui Nhon before he knew that 79 Americans had been killed and 121 wounded at XRay. The next day, at nearby LZ Albany, 155 Americans were killed and 124 wounded when ambushed by a huge North Vietnamese force. Two days later, Finn contracted malaria and was flown to a military hospital in Okinawa.

As Finn was recovering, politicians in D.C. were assessing the impact of Ia Drang. It was a major victory for

American forces, but President Johnson’s advisors were shocked that American casualties were so high. They were even more stunned that the North Vietnamese Army had been willing to sacrifice more than 2,000 men in a single bat- Eddie Hall, right, and his machine gunner, Rick Hughes, with a copy of an article written about their tle and seemed prepared to exploits in the military newspaper “Stars & Stripes.” absorb huge losses for a long time.

Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara flew to meet 1st Cavalry commanders at An Khe to assess the situation and discuss the prospects for the future.

After the meeting McNamara drafted a top secret memo to President Johnson saying the enemy’s resolve had far exceeded U.S. expectations and things might get worse.

McNamara said the U.S. had two choices: either get out of Vietnam immediately or give commanding General William Westmoreland the additional 200,000 troops he had requested.

At a December 1965 meeting at the White House, Johnson asked McNamara, “You mean to tell me no matter what I do, I Coweta’s Eddie Hall, left, prepares for another jump with the 173rd Airborne Brigade. can’t win in Vietnam?”

McNamara said yes, that victory was impossible. But the rest of Johnson’s political advisors carried the day and more troops were ordered to Vietnam. Lots more.

The North Vietnamese Army would not engage U.S. troops in a major battle for another two years, but even in “small” battles, the U.S. death toll began to rise dramatically.

A month after he was wounded at Ia Drang, Charlie Finn was back on duty at An Khe.

Coweta’s Eddie Hall, between missions, posing in front of the supply tent at Bien Hoa air base.

6 • Vietnam Veterans Memorial Moving Wall Edition • October 2011

VETERANS

Donut dollies provided touch of home in combat zone

By ALEX McRAE alex@newnan.com Today, women serve in almost every job in every branch of the U.S. military — but during the Vietnam War, far fewer females were members of the military and most of those who served in Vietnam were nurses.

The work that female members of the military did was vital. Not long after the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Wall was dedicated in Washington, D.C., in 1982, an effort began to honor the more than 260,000 women who served in the military during the Vietnam era.

In November 1993, the Vietnam Women’s Memorial was dedicated. The memorial depicts three nurses tending a fallen soldier. It is the first memorial in the nation’s capital honoring the military service

of American women.

But while military nurses played a crucial role in the war and saved the lives of thousands of soldiers, Vietnam veterans will never forget another group of females who didn’t wear military uniforms, but dresses that marked them as workers with the American Red Cross.

They served at bases across the country, lifting spirits, helping with day-to-day needs of the troops and providing what the women called “a touch of home in the combat zone.”

These young women — all recent college graduates — were called Donut Dollies.

Newnan’s Gretchen Deichelbor was one of them.

Part of Gretchen Deichelbor’s job as a Donut Dollie in Vietnam was creating games and activities to keep the troops entertained. Here, Deichelbor, right, and another Donut Dollie lead a game that involved guessing the name of the cattle brand created by the women. Deichelbor’s brand is “Rocking R,” in case you’ve never been on a real roundup.

Gretchen Deichelbor, second from left, and other Red Cross workers at a training facility in Saigon.

“I was fresh out of college, and I wanted to see the world and do some good,” Deichelbor said. “And so I signed up.”

Deichelbor was born and raised in Minnesota, and attended the University of Minnesota before graduating from St. Cloud State College in 1966.

She planned to continue her education, but not until she took a break and saw some of the world.

“I thought I’d go back to school later, maybe become a lawyer,” Deichelbor said. “But first I just wanted to get a kick out of things for a while. I wanted a job that would allow me to do that.”

Deichelbor applied for work with the Peace Corps and the American Red Cross, which was looking for Donut Dollies to serve at American military bases in Korea and Vietnam.

A rapid escalation of the ground war in Vietnam had led to an increase in antiwar sentiment in America, but Deichelbor said politics weren’t her concern when dealing with the Red Cross.

“They said they had openings for Korea and Vietnam, and I told them I wouldn’t go to Korea, that I’d been through enough cold winters in Minnesota,” she said. “I told them I’d be glad to go to Vietnam, though.”

The Red Cross accepted Deichelbor’s offer, and she headed to American Red Cross headquarters in Washington, D.C., for training.

The first order of business was making sure the women knew the role the Donut Dollies played in war zones.

For decades, organizations like the USO had been sending bigname entertainers to perform for troops overseas, but the Donut Dollies were not going abroad to sharpen any show biz aspirations.

“We were definitely not entertainers,” Deichelbor said.

“And we were not hostesses going over there to serve food and drinks at social events. We thought of ourselves as the girl next door, a bright, energetic, well-educated girl the soldiers could laugh with or talk to and forget about the war for a while.”

Dollies began their training

Gretchen Deichelbor

by studying military protocol and learning to identify insignia denoting different ranks for every branch of the American military.

“You had to know who was who and who was in charge,” Deichelbor said. “If you’re dealing with the military you need to know how they operate.”

Basic ground rules for the Donut Dollies were emphasized over and over.

“They told us every day that we should smile a lot, not cuss, and not give out our age and education,” Deichelbor said.

“We weren’t there to encourage personal relationships. In fact we were told not to date military men.” One of the Dollies’ main jobs was devising activities and games designed to boost soldiers’ morale and take their mind off the ugly business of war. Deichelbor said she was always involved with the “planning, preparation, presentation and evaluation of participationtype programs.”

“That’s a pretty formal definition of the job, but that’s what it was,” Deichelbor said.

“We took it seriously.”

In the fall of 1966, Deichelbor finally arrived in Vietnam. She was assigned to duties at a Red Cross facility housed in a Quonset hut at the base of Hill 327, often called Freedom Hill.

It was just outside Danang Air Force base, the first stop for all U.S. Marines entering Vietnam.

Deichelbor was assigned to work with the 3rd Marine Expeditionary Force (MEF), which was based at Danang.

As the Marine presence surged, Deichelbor and her

fellow Dollies worked to create and organize the games and activities they would present to troops. Many of the activities were skits or games based on popular TV shows of the day.

The Dollies presented the show at the Danang Red Cross facility and at remote outposts and firebases across Vietnam.

“Wherever they wanted us, we went,” she said. “We were glad to get out, and saw a lot of the country.”

The new job in a new country meant adjusting to some new and unusual sights. In one of her first letters back home to her mother, Deichelbor wrote, “I went on a run to an Airborne Division, then to Monkey Mountain then to a Coast Guard ship. Monkey Mountain is actually a mountain with monkeys running around on it.

I actually saw a monkey!”

In that same letter Deichelbor admitted she got “seasick three times” while aboard a Coast Guard vessel sitting at anchor in the South China Sea. Despite that, she said, “That was the most fun socially I’d had since I got to Vietnam.”

The fun didn’t last long and soon Deichelbor was on the run to outposts across the country.

“We rode all over the country and did what we could to make the guys happy,” Deichelbor said. “It was never dull.”

Even back at the Red Cross facility near Danang, reminders of war were everywhere.

Although Deichelbor said that “Danang was a pretty secure location,” missiles perched on a hill overlooking the base reminded the girls why they were there, as did the constant stream of U.S. and enemy tracer bullets that lit up the skies at night.

But even at the Red Cross facility, the horrors of war weren’t completely forgotten.

One night when Deichelbor was working at Hill 327, a Marine came in fresh from combat duty. But Deichelbor said he wasn’t in a mood to relax. One of Deichelbor’s jobs was collecting weapons at the door and stowing them away until the soldiers left for the evening.

The Marine came in and

turned in his weapon, but was far from happy.

“He was loud and angry and made a scene,” Deichelbor said.

“He looked at me and asked, ‘What are you doing in Vietnam?’ and wanted to fuss about everything.”

Deichelbor explained the Donut Dollies were there to support the troops, but the Marine wasn’t interested. “He didn’t want to hear it,” Deichelbor said. “He was just mad.”

His buddies took him away, and Deichelbor didn’t see him again until two hours later when he came to collect his rifle and leave.

He apologized to Deichelbor, and she tried to strike up a conversation and asked where he was from. The Marine was from Minnesota and Deichelbor learned she knew his cousin, a girl Deichelbor had worked with in a St. Cloud beauty shop while paying her way through college.

After the Marine left, Deichelbor learned that before coming to the Red Cross facility, he had been at the military morgue to view the bodies of five buddies who had just been killed in action.

“I understood why he was so upset when I heard that,” Deichelbor said.

Even when the Dollies tried to take a break, the war intruded. One night Deichelbor and some coworkers decided to eat dinner at a restaurant near Danang that sat perched on stilts over the Danang River. As they walked over the shaky bridge to the restaurant, Deichelbor watched as several dead bodies were pulled from the water below.

“We never found out who they were or what happened,” Deichelbor said. “But it was always there. You couldn’t escape it.”

In addition to helping soldiers, the Donut Dollies were sometimes asked to offer assistance to civilians. Deichelbor made a trip to a Catholic orphanage in Saigon to visit children, many of whom had been orphaned by the war.

“We tried to do what we could to make those kids happy, but it was so sad,”

See DOLLIES, page 7

By 1966, Vietnam saw buildup of United States soldiers as combat intensified BUILDUP Continued from page 5 Boyd chose active duty and was soon on his way to Fort Sam Houston in San Antonio, Texas, as a member of the Army Medical Corps.

The minute Boyd arrived in San Antonio, he was reminded that America’s civil rights struggle was far from over.

“When I got there, I couldn’t get a cab to the base,” Boyd said. “They wouldn’t pick up a black man and weren’t even happy I asked. The tension there was so thick you could cut it with a knife.”

Boyd called Fort Sam Houston, and the duty officer didn’t hesitate before sending a staff car driven by a private to pick Boyd up and drive him back to the base.

“That was nice,” Boyd said.

“My first impression of the military was very positive.”

During his training Boyd took a course in medical evacuation procedures being used in Vietnam. After one class the instructor asked if anyone wanted to fly helicopters.

Boyd remembered watching planes soar overhead as he worked the Alabama cotton fields and thinking how nice it would be to fly. Once he was offered the chance, he jumped at it.

Boyd easily passed the aptitude test and rigorous flight physical, and once he was accepted as an aviation student was even more excited when he learned he would get an extra $110 per month as a flyer.

He realized why it was called “hazardous duty pay” when a student pilot in his class was killed in a training flight crash.

“That was terrible,” Boyd said. “One day I’m sitting next to that guy and the next day, he’s gone.”

Boyd said the incident gave him second thoughts, but not for long.

“My attitude was I was gonna finish flight school no matter what,” Boyd said. “I wasn’t going back home and hear people say ‘I told you you couldn’t do it.’”

Willie Boyd, right, relaxes with fellow soldiers in front of their "hooch," or living quarters, in Vietnam.

Willie Boyd, left, poses with a fellow soldier at an air base in Vietnam. Helicopters and planes are parked behind them.

Boyd completed advanced flight training at Fort Rucker, Ala., earned his wings in June 1967, and went back to Fort Sam Houston to join the 507th Ambulance Company.

He spent time picking up people injured in San Antonio auto wrecks and flying food, water and relief supplies to citizens stranded by the flash floods that often inundated south Texas.

In October 1967, Boyd headed to Vietnam. The flight over on a C-130 cargo plane took four days, due mostly to unsched-

uled stops to repair the aircraft at Guam, Wake Island and the Philippines When Boyd and his fellow soldiers arrived in Vietnam they didn’t know what to expect. They loaded their M16s, slung bullet-filled bandoliers over their shoulders and each stepped down the ramp of the huge plane looking like Rambo.

The commanding officer who met them took one look, ordered them to unload the weapons and stow the ammo and then put them to work.

Boyd learned the ropes by flying missions with seasoned combat veteran pilots. His first mission seemed uneventful. He could see the landing zone clearly and didn’t think there would be a problem picking up the patient and heading back to base. But he noticed that as the chopper approached the landing zone, the veteran pilot started sweating profusely.

“He looked nervous,” Boyd said. “But I didn’t know why.

Things looked fine to me down there.”

Then the chopper landed and bullets started flying. Boyd said he still wasn’t too concerned.

“You could hear bullets all over but we didn’t get hit and I wasn’t too worried,” he said.

Boyd said it took a few more flights for him to realize why the pilot on that first flight had been so worried.

“He saw things I didn’t,” Boyd said. “I was looking at the scenery, but he saw troop movements and potential problem areas and knew we were going to take some fire. I had to learn how to see what was happening down there and not just look at where I was going. I learned pretty quick the best way to stay alive was to keep from doing something stupid.”

Boyd was soon assigned his own chopper. His first flight as a pilot was at night into a “hot” landing zone where a firefight was under way. A pair of helicopter gunships flew on either side of him.

The gunships led him to the landing zone and laid down suppressing fire while Boyd and his crew picked up their patients and flew out with no problems.

“I thought it was great having those two gunships with me,” Boyd said. “But it turns out that was the first and last time I ever had a gunship escort. The rest of the time we were on our own.”

Boyd said the key to a successful mission was getting in, getting the patients aboard and getting out as quickly as possible. The medevac choppers were intended to carry three men on litters and four ambulatory patients. Boyd said he just picked up as many as he could

In this photo supplied by Willie Boyd, a wounded soldier is about to be carried off a Vietnam battlefield by a medevac chopper.

and once packed 22 patients on board.

Boyd said the medics who left the choppers to locate and load the wounded soldiers were the real heroes.

“They had to go out there in the line of fire and pull those guys in with bullets flying at them the whole time and they never complained or backed off,” Boyd said. “They were great.”

Boyd said his closest call came when he was picking up wounded soldiers from the 9th Infantry Division during a major battle with the Vietcong.

When Boyd arrived the gunships had left the area to refuel and rearm and he was on his own. He looked down and saw the casualties and the landing zone but something was wrong.

“I don’t know what it was but the hair on the back of my neck stood up,” he said. “It was like a sixth sense telling me things weren’t right.”

As soon as the medic jumped off to collect injured men, the Vietcong opened up on the chopper and a round sailed right past Boyd’s head.

“It got scary in a hurry,” he said. “We were always a prime target. I heard that more medevac choppers got shot down than choppers on other duty because we only went where

there was fighting. We got plenty that day.”

Boyd had another close call during the January 1968 Tet offensive at a Y-shaped bridge south of Saigon.

The fire was heavy and Boyd said after several trips in and out of the LZ with wounded troops, he remembers leaning out the chopper to direct some air traffic and found himself staring down at a Vietcong on the ground pointing an AK-47 at him. The rounds started coming straight at Boyd.

“I said, ‘Oh, Lord,’ and a few bad words, too,” Boyd said. “I knew that was it, but I got busy and got out of there before I was hit. They shot out our radio and the flight deck was really chewed up. People said I was lucky and I told them that back home we said if you looked like your mother you would always be lucky, and I definitely looked like my mother so maybe that’s what it was.”

Boyd retired from the Army in 1994 as a full colonel. He said he will never forget the time he spent in Vietnam.

“I know we saved a lot of lives and that was our mission,” he said. “I just did my job and so did everybody else on my crews. I was glad we did some good.”

October 2011 • Vietnam Veterans Memorial Moving Wall Edition • 7

VETERANS

Attack of USS Maddox triggered sending U.S. forces into Vietnam

By ALEX McRAE alex@newnan.com

Gretchen Deichelbor, far left, joins other Donut Dollies at a Red Cross facility in Vietnam.

Donut dollies provided touch of home DOLLIES Continued from page 6 Deichelbor said. “The war really touched everyone.”

Although it wasn’t part of her routine duty, Deichelbor also made several trips to military hospitals to visit wounded soldiers. She had a special bond with those who had suffered burns. Deichelbor survived two house fires while growing up and still bore the scars on her knees, ankles, elbows and “a few places I didn’t let anyone see,” she said. “I could empathize with the burned soldiers and what they were going through.”

“When I told them they would heal physically and be able to resume a normal life, they could see that I knew what I was talking about and that made it easier for them to believe what I was saying.”

The Donut Dollies were officially disbanded in 1972. Red Cross workers still perform some of the same functions but Deichelbor said technology has taken over many of the services the Dollies once performed.

In Vietnam, Deichelbor helped soldiers write letters home. Today, every man and woman in uniform has a smartphone or access to the Internet and can be in contact with families a world away instantly.

Even soldiers in the most remote bases in Iraq or Afghanistan have access to dining facilities or field meals that make the old “Care Packages” from home filled with snacks and food treats unnecessary.

“We never Gretchen Deichelbor, left, and her fellow Donut served donuts Dollies often presented programs to troops in but we served the field in Vietnam. plenty of KoolAid and cake Each card celebrates a holiand cookies,” Deichelbor said. day, event or theater of service.

“Today the soldiers have access Deichelbor said a favorite is a to snacks and good food. When card she created with a map of they get a package from home, Vietnam adorned with a cutout it’s liable to hold extra bandag- of a pair of combat boots with es or sunscreen or batteries for the dog tags threaded through personal electronic equip- the boot laces, as they were ment.” worn in Vietnam.

Once Deichelbor returned to “They all said, ‘Look at the civilian life she remained a dog tags.’ I remember that. It’s strong supporter of U.S. troops, just how we wore them.’” especially Vietnam veterans. In Deichelbor said she plans to 2004, she started a special pro- expand her “Boots on the gram creating hand-made cards Ground” card series to celecommemorating overseas com- brate even more occasions and bat service and events of events important to soldiers national significance to veter- who served overseas. ans.

“I’ll always support the She provides the cards to troops, and it makes me feel local law enforcement and pub- good that I can do something lic safety employees who that makes them feel good,” served in Vietnam. Deichelbor Deichelbor said. “That’s what calls it the “Boots on the being a Donut Dollie is all Ground” program. about.”

Although the United States had been sending military “advisors” to Vietnam since the 1950s, American armed forces did not take an active combat role until 1964.

On Aug. 2, 1964, the destroyer USS Maddox was attacked

by North Vietnamese patrol boats while sailing in international waters in the Gulf of Tonkin off the coast of North Vietnam. That incident provided the excuse President Lyndon Johnson had been seeking to send U.S. forces to war.

On Aug. 7, 1964, Congress passed the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution, authorizing Johnson to take all action necessary to protect American forces in or near Vietnam.

Within days, carrier-based U.S. Navy planes were flying bombing runs against North Vietnamese targets.

U.S. Navy forces would not leave Vietnam for the next nine years.

Official Navy records show that from 1964 to 1973, 2,564 Navy personnel died in the Vietnamese theater of war.

The single deadliest day of that engagement was July 29, 1967, when 134 sailors were killed instantly or died from injuries received during a horrifying incident aboard the aircraft carrier USS Forrestal.

Coweta’s Wayne Moore survived the incident, but the memory of that day is inked on his mind forever.

“It was the worst thing I’ve ever been through,” Moore said. “I try to tell people what it was like, but you had to be there. It was terrible.”

Moore was born and raised in Moreland, and shortly after graduating from Newnan High School he enlisted in the U.S. Navy.

“I wasn’t going to college and the draft was picking

everybody up,” he said. “I knew I’d get called so I decided to enlist and serve in the Navy like my father.”

After completing Navy basic training Moore headed for Norfolk, Va., to join the crew of the aircraft carrier USS F o r r e s t a l .

The Forrestal sailed to South America then around the tip of Africa on its way to Vietnam. The last stop was the Philippines, where the Forrestal was stocked with ordnance for the Vietnam mission.

The ship’s weapons magazine filled up before all the bombs were loaded, leaving no choice but to stack a large quantity of bombs on the flight deck. Not just any bombs. The bombs stored on the deck were World War IIera, 1,000-pound bombs known as “Fat Boys.” Unlike their 1960s-era counterparts, which only detonated when striking a target, the Fat Boys could be set off by intense heat. Storing them on the deck would soon prove deadly.

The Forrestal arrived in the Gulf of Tonkin off North Vietnam on July 22, 1967 — and Moore went to work. He was a member of a fueling crew that worked on the flight deck fueling the ship’s planes before each mission and setting them up for the next fueling afterwards. The flight tempo was high and fueling crews typically put in 18-hour days in some of the most dangerous areas of the ship.

“There were lots of ways to get hurt on the flight deck,” Moore said. “We got hazardous duty pay for working

See MADDOX, page 8

Wayne Moore

Don Chapman

Mike Johnson

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Bank of Coweta is a division of Synovus Bank. Synovus Bank, Member FDIC, is chartered in the state of Georgia and operates under multiple trade names across the southeast. Divisions of Synovus Bank are not separately FDIC-insured banks. The FDIC coverage extended to deposit customers is that of one insured bank.

8 • Vietnam Veterans Memorial Moving Wall Edition • October 2011

LOCAL

Attack of USS Maddox triggered sending United States forces into Vietnam MADDOX Continued from page 7 there.”

On the morning of July 29, Moore had his planes fueled and ready. A few minutes before the 11 a.m. launch, he left the flight deck and walked down to the next deck below to relax with some buddies on the fantail.

He remembers hearing a huge explosion above on the flight deck. At first he thought the ship had been attacked by the Russians, since a Russian ship had come perilously close to the Forrestal a day earlier before it was chased off.

Within seconds after the blast, the General Quarters alarm rang and all crews were ordered to their battle stations.

As Moore raced up the ship’s ladder to the flight deck, he encountered a sailor coming down, horribly burned and in agony. Moore helped him to sick bay and stopped to help another burned sailor before finally making it to the fight deck.

“I didn’t know what was going on,” he said. “But those guys were in awful shape. I had to help them.”

The explosion on the flight deck had started when an electrical malfunction in an F-4 Phantom fighter launched a Zuni missile while the plane was still on the deck. The missile tore across the flight deck and went all the way through an A-4 Skyhawk piloted by a young Naval aviator and future U.S. Senator named John McCain.

McCain’s fuel tanks ruptured and fuel spilled onto the deck.

A spark set the fuel ablaze and the deck was soon engulfed in a massive fire. The heat took its toll on the massive Fat Boy bombs, and one minute and 34 seconds after the missile went off, a 1,000-pound bomb from McCain’s plane exploded. The massive blast tore a huge hole in the flight deck and caused even more damage on lower decks where the force of the blast was directed.

The initial blast killed more than two dozen crewmen and pilots immediately. Others would die from their wounds.

The first bomb also devastated the fantail where Moore had been standing when the fire started. “If I had been there then I wouldn’t be here now,” he said.

As firefighters worked to extinguish the rapidly-spreading fire, more of the huge bombs exploded. Moore and his mates rushed to push the remaining bombs off the deck and into the sea.

“It’s amazing how much weight you can move when you’re scared,” he said.

Before the fire was brought under control, nine of the 1,000-pound bombs had exploded, blowing automobilesized holes in the deck and devastating the ship in the worst aircraft carrier fire s i n c e World War II. T h e explosions and fire killed 134 sailors and injured hundreds Don Chapman at more. “I Miramar Naval Air still can’t Station in San believe I Diego, where he was there, trained to fly F-4 “ M o o r e Phantom fighter said.

“It jets. was awful seeing that w h o l e thing happen.”

Moore stayed with the ship while it was repaired at Portsmouth, Va., and spent the rest of his Navy tour in other parts of the world.

Moore left the Navy after four years and returned to Coweta County, where he had a long career with Douglas & Lomason and opened a deer processing business he has operated for 30 years.

“Nobody wanted to go to Vietnam,” Moore said. “But I’m proud I served over there.”

Newnan’s Don Chapman served two tours in Vietnam based on an aircraft carrier. But Chapman spent the majority of his time in the air, flying 199 combat missions in a F-4 Phantom fighter jet. That kind of combat schedule made one commodity more precious than any other.

“Sleep was the biggest luxury we had and we didn’t get much,” Chapman said. “The flight tempo was so high it seemed like we were always in

Wayne Moore across the water from his ship, the USS Forrestal, while it was being repaired.

Wayne Moore relaxes atop one of the USS Forrestal's huge propellers.

the pilots to everything from being banged around by guards to living in the worst imaginable physical conditions.

Chapman said he learned his biggest lesson when he was forced to go without food for a week and water for a day.

“Most Americans have never gone without food for a week.

But I learned you could do it if you had to, and that was a great lesson,” he said.

During his two tours in Vietnam, Chapman saw the military objectives change drastically. He once flew one mission over Haiphong harbor with orders to get the name of a cargo ship. The ship was carrying 18 military trucks but Chapman was forbidden to attack. Later that day, an A4Skyhawk pilot was shot down while attacking one of those trucks.

“I could have done it while I was there with no problem,” Chapman said. “It was crazy for me to pass those trucks by and lose a pilot later shooting at them.”

Pilots were also instructed not to bomb a soccer stadium, even though a North Vietnamese missile battery was set up in the middle of the playing field.

“They didn’t want us to cause civilian casualties, but that same missile battery was shooting at American planes,” Chapman said. “That was nuts.

When the politicians take over it’s never good and that was the problem over there.”

Chapman served six years in the Navy and, in April 1969, became a pilot with Western Airlines. When Western was bought by Delta in 1989, Chapman stayed on until he retired in 2001. He has called Coweta home for 20 years.

Chapman lost some close friends in Vietnam, including his roommate aboard the Constellation, who was killed during a carrier launch two weeks after his wife had given birth to a child.

“That was really tough,” Chapman said. “I’ve been lucky and blessed all my life and I’m more fortunate than I can say.

We all did our duty in Vietnam but to lose close friends, that’s the hardest thing about any war.”

Although the Navy gathered most of the seagoing military headlines from the Vietnam War, the U.S. Coast Guard also played a vital role in the action.

While the Coast Guard is widely known for its efforts in American waters — where it provides coastal security, operates search and rescue missions, enforces fisheries laws and interdicts drug shipments headed for U.S. shores — it has also played a combat role in every U.S. war since 1790.

Coweta’s Mike Johnson is a Coast Guard veteran who had a ringside seat for the action in Vietnam.

Johnson was born in Coweta but moved to Atlanta at age 5.

When he graduated from Sylvan Hills High School in 1967, he wanted to join the service but was too young. He worked as a letter carrier for the U.S. Post Office until November 1967, when he joined the U.S. Coast Guard.

After basic training in Cape May, N.J., Johnson headed to Boston to be assigned to a ship.

One Friday afternoon, a commanding officer told Johnson he could either stay aboard a ship based in Boston or sail for Vietnam the following Monday on the U.S. Coast Guard Cutter (USCGC) Bibb.

Johnson had a Coast Guard buddy from the Boston area and decided to head for Vietnam so his buddy could stay close to home.

“I was already seven hundred miles from home,” Johnson said. “What difference did another ten thousand miles make?”

Johnson was a member of the deck crew, whose main job was performing maintenance on the ship’s lines and exterior fittings. “We chased rust,” he said.

But all Coast Guardsmen were

Mike Johnson poses on top of a sandbagged U.S. Army bunker while visiting the Vietnamese village of An Tho.

Mike Johnson, left, and all other Mike Johnson in the bunk room Coast Guardsmen who served in of the Coast Guard Cutter Bibb.

Vietnam were always ready for combat.

The U.S. Coast Guard Cutter (USCGC) Bibb. Newnan's Mike Johnson served aboard the Bibb in Vietnam.

rated for combat duty as well, and it wasn’t long before Johnson got his share.

The Bibb arrived in Vietnam in March 1968 and got to work.

The ship’s mission was stopWhile Coweta’s Wayne Moore was serving aboard the USS ping and searching any vessel Forrestal in Vietnam a huge explosion and fire took the lives of 134 sailors. Here, sailors fight the blaze. that came by. They worked the coastal waters, and up and the air. If we ever got six hours they usually got away with no down the rivers that wove of sleep it was cause for cele- problems.” throughout Vietnam and were Antiaircraft fire was constant bration.” used as supply routes by Chapman grew up in south- but didn’t bother Chapman or Vietcong guerrillas and the ern Illinois. After graduating the other F-4 pilots too much.

North Vietnamese Army.

“You could see the tracers from Enfield, Ill., High School “We were looking for in 1959 he enrolled at the going by, and at first you’d weapons, explosives and University of Illinois to study think ‘that was close.’ But after enemy soldiers,” Johnson said. civil engineering with plans of a while, you didn’t really think The VC (Vietcong) were all about it,” he said. “We knew becoming a pilot. over South Vietnam and they “I knew I wanted to fly but how to change altitude and used those rivers to move their the military required college so course to make it a lot safer.” people and supplies from place A much bigger worry was the I went to school,” he said. to place.”

During his third year of threat from Russian-made On a typical mission, school, Chapman learned he SAMs (surface to air missiles).

Johnson’s vessel would stop a could qualify for Navy flight But American pilots found that local boat, board it and perform training with only two years of since the SAMs were built to an extensive search of the ship intercept an aircraft at a particcollege. and cargo, looking through He left college, easily passed ular point in its flight, they bags of food, baskets of fish and all the Navy’s flight school tests could be dodged with evasive any other place that could hide and in May 1963, began flight maneuvers the SAMs were a man or a weapon. unable to match. training in Pensacola, Fla. “We confiscated plenty of The pilots’ biggest concern One year later, in May 1964, weapons and ammo,” Johnson Chapman earned his wings and was the threat of being shot said. It was everywhere you went to Miramar Naval Air down, captured and held as a turned.”

Station in San Diego for fighter prisoner of war.

If the ship being searched One of the most famous surjet training. was not carrying troops or He was assigned to fly F-4 vivors of North Vietnam’s bruweapons, the Americans ended Phantom fighters and in April tal prison camps is John the mission by offering the 1967, arrived in Vietnam aboard McCain. He received shrapnel Vietnamese food and water, the aircraft carrier USS wounds during the July 29, 1967, giving them medical care and Constellation as part of the explosion aboard the USS doing what they could to proForrestal but recovered quickly 143rd Fighter Squadron. vide for their other needs.

Chapman admits his first few and was back in the air months “We treated them like human combat missions were white- later. McCain was shot down beings,” Johnson said. “That knuckled rides, but after a over Hanoi in October 1967 and was part of the job, too.” while he settled into a routine held prisoner until 1973.

The Coast Guard vessels To teach them how to surand went about his business. were also called on to render “Once you figured out what vive in the event they were combat support to land-based you’re doing and what to look captured, all pilots underwent a Army or Marine Corps units for, you could just fly and that’s program called SERE — for who needed a hand. what we all loved to do. And I Survival, Evasion, Resistance On one river patrol, was lucky. I never got hit.” and Escape.

Johnson’s ship started taking The brutal training exposed On his first tour, Chapman’s fire from both banks of a river F-4 squadron escorted A-4 not more than 50 yards wide.

Skyhawk attack planes as they The ship headed downstream bombed enemy targets at low at top speed to escape the inialtitude. The F-4s went in first tial ambush, then came back to to suppress anti-aircraft fire the area where they had been and then circled between the attacked and started firing back Skyhawks and North Vietnam, at the places where enemy gunready to intercept any airborne fire could be spotted. threats.

“We just kept going by and “We went in before them and coming back the other direcstayed after they got through to tion and shooting at any targets make sure nobody was after we saw,” Johnson said. “We let them,” Chapman said. them have it and did it all over A major part of the F-4 misagain. We kept going back and sions was spotting antiaircraft forth until they weren’t firing fire and directing the Skyhawks back anymore. We figured they away from danger. had left and then we moved “You could see the flak comon.” ing,” Chapman said. “We’d Johnson’s crew also worked watch and when it got close Don Chapman aboard his F-4 Phantom in the Gulf of Tonkin off the closely with the people of two we’d tell them to break, and coast of Vietnam. villages: Song On Doc and An

Tho. Between combat missions, Coast Guardsmen visited the villages to render medical assistance and offer help with village projects from painting to cleaning.

“We helped any way we could,” Johnson said.

Once, tensions ran high for several days when mortar shells started falling on a village. The Coast Guardsmen made several trips into the nearby hills to search for the mortar site.

On each trip, they passed an elderly woman coming down the trail carrying a sack the Coast Guardsmen assumed was filled with food or supplies.

They were wrong.

The 70-year-old woman had been firing the mortars at her own village.

“It broke our hearts when we found out she had been doing it,” Johnson said. “We never knew why she was firing at her own village. She might have been trying to hit us, but she never did.”

Johnson was in Vietnam when actress Jane Fonda famously appeared to show her support for the North Vietnamese, going so far as to pose with a North Vietnamese antiaircraft gun. “It still makes me sick at my stomach,” Johnson said.

Johnson was also frustrated by some of the military tactics.

On several occasions, U.S. military commanders, at the command of politicians in D.C., called cease fires, hoping to encourage peace talks. Instead, the enemy used the lulls in the fighting to resupply and reinforce.

“We’d take a place and then they’d have a cease fire and the enemy just reloaded and came back,” Johnson said. “After the cease fire ended we’d have to go back and take it all over again. It was a real waste.”

Johnson left the service in 1972 and came back to Atlanta, working another seven years with the Post Office before joining the Fulton County Fire Department, where he worked 24 years before retiring as a Battalion Commander. He has called Coweta home for years.

“Sometimes it got frustrating over there in Vietnam,” Johnson said. “But we knew our duty and we carried it out.

We did what we had to do.”

October 2011 • Vietnam Veterans Memorial Moving Wall Edition • 9

VETERANS

U.S. broadened scope of special forces in 1964

By ALEX McRAE alex@newnan.com American Special Forces personnel were operating in Southeast Asia as early as the 1950s under the guidance of the CIA. When President John F. Kennedy decided to increase America’s presence in Vietnam, Special Forces “advisors” played a lead role in training the South Vietnamese military as the country worked to form an independent government.

In 1964, Pentagon officials decided to broaden the role of the Special Forces in Vietnam and created the Studies and Operations Group (SOG) to conduct covert operations in Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia.

The SOG’s official written mission was “to execute an intensified program of harassment, diversion, capture of prisoners, physical destruction, acquisition of intelligence, generation of propaganda, and diversion of resources against the Democratic Republic of Vietnam (North Vietnam).”

Because American military personnel were not “officially” allowed to cross the borders of Vietnam into neighboring countries, the SOG was not under the control of military field commanders in Vietnam, but reported directly to officials at the Pentagon.

A now retired school administrator from Newnan, Robin Miller, had no idea he would join this group when he graduated from Atlanta’s Northside High in 1959 and enrolled at North Georgia College with thoughts of becoming a career soldier.

“North Georgia College was the perfect place for me,” Miller said. “I got military training but I also got a great education and learned to develop my leadership skills.”

Miller graduated from North Georgia in 1963 with a degree

in Health and Physical Education, a second lieutenant’s commission in the U.S. Army Reserve and a two-year active duty commitment to the Army.

Miller headed directly for Ft. Benning, Ga., where he took an officer’s orientation course and earned his Airborne jump wings.

After a year commanding a basic training company at Ft. Gordon, Ga., Miller was assigned to the 1st Special Forces Group (SFG), stationed in Okinawa. But first, he had to go back to school.

At the time, all Special Forces officers and enlisted men had to be bilingual, and Miller, by then a captain, was sent to the Defense Language Institute In Monterey, Calif., where he spent a year studying Cantonese, the language of Southern China, including Hong Kong.

“When they told me I was going to study Chinese I asked if they had looked at my English scores, but it didn’t matter. I have never studied harder in my life than I did that year.”

In December 1966, Miller joined the 1st Special Forces Group in Okinawa. He said there was no disagreement over the Vietnam mission among the troops.

“Most of us were volunteers and wanted to be involved in whatever the country asked us to do,” Miller said. “There was never a lack of commitment to the effort.”

While stationed in Okinawa, Miller was ordered to Vietnam for six months on TDY (Temporary Duty). Once in Vietnam, he was no longer part of the 1st Special Forces Group, but attached to MACV-SOG (Military Assistance

Robin Miller on duty at Nha Trang during his second tour in Vietnam.

Robin Miller, second from left, and fellow soldiers relax behind their quarters at Nha Trang.

It isn’t casual Friday in Vietnam for Newnan’s Robin Miller. His Studies and Observations Group (SOG) team routinely went on missions wearing uniforms like this, with no insignia, patches or markings that would identify the men, the unit or rank.

Command-Vietnam-Studies and Observations Group). He was stationed at Kham Duc, about 10 miles from the Laotian border.

Miller and his SOG team wore uniforms with no insignia, flew on aircraft with no markings and used weapons “that were not necessarily made in the U.S.A.” A large number of Chinese mercenaries recruited from Saigon were brought in and given what amounted to Army basic training with special emphasis on tactics and small unit operations. Once trained, the Chinese joined SOG teams of three to 12 members that ran cross-border operations.

“The Chinese were on our side, but they could operate on the other side of the border a lot easier than we could.”

Miller said. “They were facilitators but they were fighters, too.”

The main goal of Miller’s SOG group was doing reconnaissance and confronting and interdicting North Vietnamese supplies and troops headed through Laos down the Ho Chi Minh trail to South Vietnam.

Miller said North Vietnamese troops tried to avoid American troops as much as possible so as not to give away their location or mission.

“The last thing the NVA wanted to do was engage us,” Miller said. “They wanted to keep a low profile at the time.”

The reluctance to engage by the North Vietnamese began to change, though. When Miller left Vietnam for Okinawa in December 1967, he noticed the difference.

“It felt like something was going to happen,” Miller said.

It did.

In January 1968, the North Vietnamese Army launched the Tet Offensive (named for the Vietnamese new year). It was the first major encounter between U.S. and North Vietnamese regular army forces since the battle of Ia Drang in November 1965.

The Americans won a decisive victory in the months-long Tet battle, but the fight stunned an American public that had been led to believe the North Vietnamese army was incapable of mounting a major battle.

The Tet Offensive turned the tide of American public opinion solidly against the war when it became clear a quick victory was nowhere in sight.

Two months after Tet, President Lyndon Johnson announced he would not run for re-election, tacitly acknowledging that his inability to win in Vietnam had killed his political career.

Miller returned to Okinawa for three months and was deployed back to Vietnam for a year. He was stationed at Nha Trang and served with the 5th Special Forces Group from May 1968 to April 1969.

Miller’s biggest task was developing plans for American Special Forces teams designated to train South Vietnamese Special Forces units so they could take over security and operational duties from American forces.

“We had a good plan for the transition of power, but as we all know, that didn’t turn out like we hoped,” Miller said.

After a year at Nha Trang, Miller returned to the States and was discharged from the Army on Christmas Eve 1969.

He and his wife, Alice, settled in Newnan and Miller started working as a coach and physical education teacher at Western High School at the start of the 1969-70 school year.

It was the beginning of a 25year career with the Coweta County Schools. During his tenure Miller served for 13 years as principal of Elm Street School and spent his last “five or six years” on the job as an assistant superintendent.

Miller is proud of his service and grateful for the training and opportunities the Army provided.

“I have no regrets,” Miller said. “It was a wonderful career. We knew that many people back home didn’t agree with the war but I never heard any complaints from the Special Forces units I was with.

Soldiers are soldiers and I served with some of the best.”

In 1968, the American troop count in Vietnam topped half a million. The majority of those military personnel were not front line combatants but logistical and support troops who kept the machinery of war — both human and mechanical — humming along.

Newnan’s J.L. Boozer was among them.

Robin Miller

J.L. Boozer

David Brown Sr.

Boozer was born in Carrollton but raised in Newnan, attending Westside School and Central High before dropping out in the 12th grade to help support his family. In 1967, he enlisted in the U.S. Army.

Recruiters noted Boozer’s mechanical skills and, after basic training at Ft. Benning, he was sent to Aberdeen, Md., to specialize in automotive repair and maintenance. In April 1968, Boozer headed for Vietnam and was based in Vung Tau, a coastal city south of Saigon.

Boozer worked on every kind

“Some guys would come in from the field and they were pretty messed up. Every day you’d see men coming in whose friends had gotten killed. They saw all that fighting and it can mess your mind up. Some gave up hope of ever making it back in the States, didn’t think they could readjust to society. I know men that reenlisted because they didn’t think they could make it back home.”

After 12 months in Vietnam Boozer went back to the States and spent time at Ft. Riley, Ks., before shipping out for a second tour in Vietnam with the EM/NCO program. This time Boozer was stationed in Cu Chi, which featured several R&R locations.

Boozer managed four different clubs and did so well he was named soldier of the month five times. But he said during his second tour it was clear the attitude of the country and the soldiers was changing.

“The high expectations were gone,” Boozer said. “The whole culture had changed. There wasn’t a problem with how the men fought, but everybody felt like it was an unwinnable war, like the politicians back home didn’t care whether we won or not.”

Boozer left the Army in 1971, returned to Newnan and eventually owned and operated his own garage and service station before he sold his business interests in 1992 to deal with health concerns.

Today he is fit and well and works when he wants. Boozer is proud of his service, but still has doubts over how the Vietnam War was waged.

“My mother always used to say, before you do anything, have a reason behind it,” Boozer said. “I’m not sure anybody knew the real reason we went there. If we had it might have been better. And my mama always said, ‘Don’t go anywhere unless you got a way out.’ We didn’t have that.”

A way out of Vietnam was something the politicians in Washington could never find.

In the meantime, they kept pouring more troops into Vietnam and sending out press releases announcing that, according to the body count, America was winning, even as the film clips on the evening news painted a different and more gruesome picture.

Despite the rising national opposition to the war, many Americans still believed that fighting for their country — no matter the cause — was honorable. While the draft kept pulling thousands into the military service each month, many, like Newnan’s David Brown Sr., volunteered to serve.

Brown was born and raised in Coweta County and after graduating from Newnan High School, worked briefly at two jobs before enlisting in the Army in September 1965.

Brown enlisted because he wanted his pick of services and duties. He chose U.S. Army Airborne, saying, “If I was going to serve I wanted to be with the best of the best and that’s what the Airborne is.”

After completing basic and advanced infantry training at Ft. Gordon, Ga., Brown earned his Airborne jump wings at Ft. Benning and joined the 82nd Airborne at Ft. Bragg, N.C. For almost a year, Brown and the rest of the 82nd trained night and day for what they all knew was an eventual posting in Vietnam. Brown finally got tired of waiting and volunteered to go to Vietnam immediately.

The Army granted his wish and assigned him to the 173rd Airborne Brigade in April 1967.

Shortly after arriving at the 173rd’s base of operation at Bien Hoa, Brown spent a week at “jungle school” and realized the jungle training he had received in the States had not prepared him for the conditions in Vietnam.

The heat, insects and snakes were different, but expected.

The darkness of the thick Vietnamese jungle was not.

“When you got in the jungle the growth was so thick you felt like you couldn’t even see the sun,” Brown said. “It was almost like night all the time.”

After jungle school Brown joined his battalion at a semipermanent encampment in the field called a firebase. But Brown’s unit rarely visited the firebase. “We were always going somewhere,” he said.

“We kidded ourselves that we were like that TV show that said, ‘Have Gun, Will Travel.’”

During one extended combat mission, Brown’s unit was in the jungle for 52 straight days, living off the land and tracking or engaging the enemy daily.

When the unit finally returned to the firebase, their fatigues had literally rotted away and the men weren’t in much better shape, physically or mentally. They were given new uniforms, got to bathe and shave and were then assembled for a hot meal in a real dining hall.

Brown said the men were so beat up, they literally didn’t know what to do.

“I’d been out there so long I was like a wild man,” Brown said. “I remember looking at a fork and I couldn’t even remember what to do with it. I just looked at it. After that long in the field it took awhile to get feeling human again.”

After a brief rest, the unit was sent out again. Brown fought in four major battles and remembers each vividly.

The first was at Hill 823.

Hills in Vietnam were numbered by American forces according to their elevation to let pilots know how much

J.L. Boozer shortly after he joined the Army in December 1967.

of car and truck in the Army motor pool, doing whatever was necessary to get the vehicles back into battle so they could be beat up, banged up or shot up again.

“War tears things up pretty good,” Boozer said. “But we knew what we were doing and we got it taken care of.”

The Army soon noticed Boozer was also gifted at handling people, and after 10 months on automotive duty, he was transferred to the Army’s EM (enlisted men) and NCO (non-commissioned officer) club system to work in the military’s network of clubs and restaurants that provided entertainment and relaxation for troops sent back from the front line for a few days of R&R (rest and relaxation).

Many of the more than 100 bars, night clubs and restaurants in Vung Tau were named after American cities, towns or landmarks.

“We tried to make it feel as much like home as possible,” Boozer said. “Our job was to take their minds off the war for a little while.”

Boozer was constantly talking to the troops in the clubs and it didn’t take him long to see some common threads in their attitudes and behavior.

“We wanted them to have a good time, but it was hard for some of them,” Boozer said.

David Brown Sr. enjoys a brief break during a combat patrol in Vietnam.

See FORCES, page 10

10 • Vietnam Veterans Memorial Moving Wall Edition • October 2011

VETERANS

Cowetans in the action with Air Force in Vietnam

By ALEX McRAE alex@newnan.com During nine years of war in Vietnam, the U.S. Air Force lost 2,255 aircraft. But Air Force crews always knew that if they went down, Air Force rescue crews would soon be on their way.

Newnan’s Jim Fogg piloted a C-130P that made 38 of those rescues, and Fogg said they all had one thing in common.

“Those guys would always say the sweetest sound they ever heard was when they were downed in the jungle and they heard us say ‘don’t worry.

We’re coming to get you.’”

Fogg was born and raised in Bowling Green, Va. His family had a farm and Fogg entered Virginia Tech in 1956 to earn a degree in agronomy. He was also a member of the school’s Corps of Cadets, and after his sophomore year of college, when he learned he was eligible for pilot training, Fogg never gave farming another

serious thought.

“Once I took my first flight I knew I’d never go back to the farm,” Fogg said.

Fogg entered the Air Force in June 1960 and earned his wings in September 1961. He flew C124 cargo planes until 1965, when he was assigned to fly C130s on ocean rescue missions out of Prestwick, Scotland.

Fogg and his crews picked up pilots who went down at sea and victims of boating mishaps.

At the end of 1965 Fogg was transferred to Morón Air Base in Spain, doing the same sea rescue work. But by then he wanted to put his training and experience to work in another location.

“I was hawkish about the war and so I volunteered to go to Vietnam,” Fogg said. “My dad and wife and mother-in-law

were all against it, but I was determined to go and I did.”

Fogg got his wish, and on March 14, 1967, he flew out of Marietta’s Dobbins Air Force Base in a brand new C-130P headed for Udorn Air Base in northern Thailand.

Fogg’s C-130P had the ability to refuel other aircraft in flight.

It was the lead aircraft in a rescue group that consisted of the C-130P, four A-1 Skyraiders that provided enemy ground fire suppression during missions, and up to four “Jolly Green Giant” helicopters.

Every day dozens of U.S. planes flew out of Udorn on missions against North Vietnamese targets. Fogg’s group was always in the air ahead of the first planes, orbiting over the flight routes and listening for the radio call of “Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!” that signaled a pilot in trouble and requesting assistance.

“As soon as we heard ‘Mayday!’ the first thing I did was get a fix on the plane’s

Jim Fogg

location,” Fogg said. “Then I’d radio ahead and say, ‘I’m coming to get you.’”

Fogg never knew what the next day would bring.

“Some days would be nice and calm,” Fogg said, “and the next day all hell would break loose.” That’s what happened

Edward Brinton

April 30, 1967, when Fogg’s group responded to three separate rescue calls from F-105 fighters shot down within 15 minutes.

“Planes were going down so fast you couldn’t hear yourself think for all the ELTs (emergency locator transmitters) going off,” he said.

Fogg worked feverishly, vectoring Jolly Green choppers to pickup positions, keeping nearby planes and choppers refueled while watching out for ground fire. But his group was unable to save anyone from the three downed planes. Some empty parachutes were found and Fogg said he hoped the pilots were among the POWs released at the war’s end.

The day wasn’t a total washout, though. When an A-1 Skyraider was shot up and had to make an emergency landing, Fogg found a suitable strip at a spot called Plain de Jars, used Jim Fogg gives a thumbs up in the cockpit of a C-130 during his flares to light the runway for Vietnam service. the pilot and watched as the crippled plane ran out of fuel on landing. The pilot was quickly picked up by a Jolly Green and returned safely to Newnan's Jim Fogg in front of a C-130P he flew in Vietnam. This base.

“We lost some people that model of the C-130 was capable of refueling other aircraft in flight. day,” Fogg said. “So when you save one you’re always happy.

My job was to concentrate on the guy who got shot down.

That was my whole world. To rescue or recover him.”

After three months at Udorn, Fogg was transferred to Tuy Hoa, Vietnam, and followed the same routine.

Fogg flew 38 rescue missions.

On one of those, his C-130 actually picked up the downed pilot. It happened on Jan. 4, 1968. Fogg was headed to patrol an area over the Gulf of Tonkin when he heard a “Mayday!” call from the wingman of an F-100 pilot who had gone down in eastern Cambodia.

After he returned to the States from regular duty in Vietnam, Jim Fogg called for another plane While in Vietnam, Jim Fogg served with the 39th Air Rescue and Fogg often flew C-141s like this one back and forth to Vietnam, car- to fly his route and headed for Recovery Squadron.

rying troops and sometimes caskets of fallen soldiers.

George Willix

Cambodia.

When he arrived at the crash site, Fogg saw the orange and white parachute and spotted the downed pilot at the end of a short, poorly-maintained airstrip. Fogg knew he would barely have room to land but made it down, taxied to the end of the runway and picked up the pilot. The runway was too narrow to make a normal turn so Fogg had to alternate his propellers between forward and reverse thrust, going backward and forward to turn around, like a car turning around on a one-lane road.

During the entire maneuver the downed pilot was screaming in Fogg’s ear to watch out for the enemy gun battery 300 yards away that had shot him down.

Fogg barely managed to clear the treetops on takeoff but delivered the pilot safely to Tuy Hoa and went directly to his next mission. The incident itself was fairly routine. What happened later was anything but.

Fogg left the Air Force in early 1969 and signed on as a pilot with Western Air Lines.

The timing couldn’t have been worse. Just a few months later, Western mechanics went on strike and the airline furloughed 204 of its newest pilots, including Fogg.

Two years and four months passed before Fogg was called back to work. He remembers being at Los Angeles International waiting for a shuttle bus that carried crew members to the terminal when he noticed another pilot sneaking looks at him.

Fogg saw the other pilot’s uniform was well-worn, an indication that he was senior to Fogg and had remained on flight status while Fogg had been furloughed.

See AIR FORCE, page 11

U.S. broadened scope of special forces in 1964

FORCES Continued from page 9 clearance to allow. At Hill 823, Brown and his men quickly found themselves surrounded and fighting for their lives. He said they were saved from annihilation by the C-47 gunships fondly known by the soldiers as “Puff, the Magic Dragon.”

At night the planes dropped flares to light the combat zone and then as the battle raged poured heavy fire on enemy troops from 40mm mini-guns.

Brown said when a C-47 left the area to refuel, the men held their breath until the next one showed up.

At Hill 823, flares from the C47s kept the scene lighted all night as enemy soldiers kept pouring up the hill in waves.

“We fought all night long,” Brown said. “They got to within just a few feet of us and then those Puffs would show up.

Those planes really saved our rear ends that night.”

The next major battle took place at Hill 830. Brown’s most vivid memory of Hill 830 isn’t the fight, but a fellow soldier named Bernie.

Shortly after the soldiers arrived at the landing zone and settled in, Brown listened as Bernie spoke about his wife and child back home and how he couldn’t wait to get back and see them. He never did.

“We talked and then went our own ways and the next time I saw Bernie a medic was doing CPR on him and trying to breathe life back into him,” Brown said. “He didn’t make it and I remember thinking how unfair it was. He had a wife and child back home and I was single, but he got killed. It wasn’t right.”

Then it was on to the worst battle of Brown’s tour, the fight for Hill 875, a struggle that was later featured in both a movie and a Discovery Channel special.

Before heading to Hill 875, Brown remembers talking to a fellow Cowetan, Tommy Huddleston, who was in a different battalion of the 173rd.

Brown remembers that Huddleston kept talking about how anxious he was to see his wife and child and hoped they could get together when Huddleston received time off for R&R. Instead of being reunited with his young family, Huddleston was killed at Hill 875 and is one of the Cowetans whose name is etched on the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.

Soon after the fighting started, Huddleston’s battalion was overrun by enemy forces near the top of the hill. American forces made several unsuccessful efforts to help as a huge force of North Vietnamese soldiers kept pouring out of concealed bunkers and trenches.

Finally, Brown’s battalion was sent to take the hill. He remembers having to cross three ridges to reach the base of Hill 875. Every step was a nightmare.

“I bet I saw more dead men crossing those three ridges than a funeral director sees in a lifetime,” Brown said.

“Americans, Vietnamese, there were bodies everywhere you looked.”

When Brown’s battalion arrived at the base of Hill 875 they saw that steps had been carved going up the hill and a handrail had been installed to made climbing easier for the enemy.

“It was obvious they had been there awhile and they were there to stay,” Brown said.

Brown’s battalion started the grueling march up the hill.

Halfway up, they were surrounded and attacked from all sides. American forces finally took the hill, but found only dead and charred bodies of Huddleston’s unit at the top.

During the battle, 115 members of the 173rd were killed.

Another 253 were wounded.

Brown was one of them, felled by a piece of shrapnel during the fierce fight.

After three days at a hospital in Bien Hoa, he was sent back into action and was still on duty in January 1968, when North Vietnamese forces launched the Tet Offensive.

Brown survived that ordeal with no further injuries and left the Army in September 1968.

He will never forget how he felt Coweta's David Brown Sr., right, and a buddy pose with their unit flag in the field in Vietnam. when he returned to the States.

“I was all hollow on the inside,” he said. “I was numb.

My heart was as hard as concrete. I had no love, no feelings, nothing — I just wanted to forget.”

Brown came back to Newnan, married and raised a family and had a successful career with Eastern Airlines and later with Batesville Casket Company. Brown said that during his 21 years at Eastern, very few coworkers were aware he had even served in Vietnam.

But, in recent years, he has talked about his service and is now a regular guest at Vietnam War classes at Newnan High School.

“A few years back things changed and now I can talk about it,” Brown said. “It wasn’t a popular war. But we did a good job and I finally realized it was something to be proud During a break between missions, David Brown Sr. writes a letter home from Vietnam. of, and I am.”

October 2011 • Vietnam Veterans Memorial Moving Wall Edition • 11

VETERANS

Cowetans in the action with United States Air Force while stationed in Vietnam AIR FORCE Continued from page 10 The other pilot finally walked over, said Fogg looked familiar and asked if they had met. They finally realized they had been in Vietnam at the same time.

The other pilot said to Fogg, “Are you the guy who picked me up when I was shot down over Cambodia?”

Fogg realized who the pilot was and said, “Yeah, I picked you up, and if I had realized you’d come to Western Air Lines and be higher than me on the seniority list I’d have left your a__ in the jungle.”

The two had a good laugh and Fogg and the rescued pilot, Jim Pollard, became close friends.

Fogg flew for Western and Delta Air Lines until he retired in 1998. He has lived in Coweta County for 22 years and says he will always be proud of his service in Vietnam.

“There’s something extremely rewarding about saving another man’s life, and I had the privilege of doing that for one year in Vietnam.”

Jim Fogg’s rescue group included “Jolly Green Giant” helicopters that were used to pick up downed pilots or recover their remains. Jolly Green Giants that flew rescue missions often carried a combat photographer like Coweta’s Edward Brinton.

“We’d go to the scene of a crash and photograph the wreckage or take a picture of the pilot being rescued,” Brinton said. “When we picked one up, it was a good flight.”

Brinton was born and raised in Jonesboro, Ark. After high school he entered Arkansas State College to study physical education, but before graduating, Brinton left school and joined the Air Force in January 1951.

Brinton had hoped for flight duty but was grounded by a hearing problem and the Air Force sent him to Alaska to work as an athletic specialist.

Brinton’s older brother owned a photo studio in Jonesboro. Brinton worked there during high school and had picked up enough photography skills to use discarded military photo equipment to set up a photo lab at Cold Bay. The Air Force was so impressed they sent him to the Air Force photo school at Lowry Air Force Base near Denver. During four years at Lowry, Brinton not only sharpened his photo skills, but he learned how to fudge the hearing portion of the flight physical and was granted flight status.

Not long afterward, he was back in Alaska photographing every military runway in the state.

“I don’t know how many runways there are in Alaska but it’s a lot,” Brinton said. “I saw them all.”

In the spring of 1968, Brinton was assigned to Vietnam and stationed at Danang Air Base.

He was an E-6 (Technical Sergeant) and was the ranking NCO (non-commissioned officer) of the 600th photo squadron.

Brinton photographed bomb craters at U.S. bases left by rocket and mortar attacks that were almost a daily occurrence.

He said Vietnamese civilians working at American bases often came out to view the damage and American commanders suspected they reported the damage to Vietnamese troops so they could adjust their fire accordingly before the next attack.

Brinton photographed bombed infrastructure so U.S. commanders could assess the damage and determine if future strikes were necessary.

He also flew regular rescue missions in a Jolly Green Giant.

Brinton’s job was to photograph both the downed pilots

Edward Brinton was the ranking NCO (non-commissioned officer) of the 600th photo squadron in Danang, during his Vietnam service.

Just minutes after two of Edward Brinton's fellow airmen in Vietnam left this Jeep, it was destroyed by a booby-trapped bomb. The airmen were not injured.

places,” Willix said. “And I liked the Air Force so I signed up.

Nobody was thinking about a war in Vietnam much at the time.”

After basic training at Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio, Tx., Willix went to Chanute Air Force Base in Illinois for technical training in cryogenics, a branch of physics dealing with the production and effects of extremely low temperatures.

“When they told me I was going into cryogenics, I didn’t even know how to spell it, much less what it was,” Willix said. “But they taught me.”

Willix worked in plants — including mobile units for field operations — that took oxygen out of the atmosphere, compressed it, then condensed it back into liquid form that took up less space until it was used in gas form.

“People used to say wherever we went we sucked all the oxygen out of the air,” Willix said.

“And I guess we did.”

After training, Willix was sent to Hickham Field in Hawaii. While there he got to service a very special plane: Air Force One. “President [Lyndon] Johnson came through several times on his way to Vietnam and other places,” Willix said. “I was the only one with top security clearance so I was responsible for working on the plane. I saw the president several times when he came through.”

After Hawaii, Willix made a brief stop at Clark Air Force Base in the Philippines, then moved on to Mactan Island, where he spent eight months putting together a new liquid oxygen and nitrogen facility as a huge new air base was being built to service the growing number of planes needing to be resupplied on the way to and from Vietnam.

In September 1967, Willix was assigned to Vietnam and posted at Bien Hoa Air Base, about 20 miles northwest of Saigon. When Willix arrived, Bien Hoa was the busiest airport in the world, handling more landings and takeoffs than the runnerup, Chicago’s O’ Hare Airport. Bien Hoa had a facility that produced liquid oxygen and nitrogen in large quantities.

The facility was bordered by a three-foot thick wall designed to withstand a blast. Not to protect the workers from the enemy, but to protect the rest of the base in case there was an explosion at the liquid oxygen facility.

“It wouldn’t burn,” Willix said. “But it would explode and they built that wall to keep the rest of the base safe in case it happened.” The Bien Hoa base was a major enemy target and During his Vietnam service, this is Edward Brinton's photo lab in Willix said that every day Danang after taking shrapnel in a rocket and mortar attack. around 4 p.m., up to 25 enemy and the aircraft wreckage. He also flew over the Ho Chi Minh Trail to photograph enemy troop movements and supply shipments.

Brinton said Vietcong mortar and rocket attacks against the Danang base were small and routine except for one large attack that blew up the fuel depot. His closest brush with disaster, though, came from an American warplane.

Brinton was ordered to ride a chopper up to 10,000 feet to photograph the entire runway at Danang. Brinton knew the runway was too long to be captured in one shot, but his commander insisted and he took off.

While the chopper hovered at 10,000 feet, all aboard heard a roar and were rocked by a concussion wave as an American jet fighter flew by, barely missing the helicopter.

“We almost got creamed,” Brinton said. “I got back and told them to find another way to shoot the runway.”

After “twenty three years, six months and two days” of active duty, Brinton left the service and began an 11-year career with Eastman Kodak. He then ran his own photo business for years.

Brinton is proud of his Air Force service but is not a fan of the action in Vietnam. “It was a dumb war,” he said. “It couldn’t be won the way we fought it.”

All the Air Force planes that flew over Vietnam required fuel, but the planes that flew at high altitude also required liquid nitrogen to cool the radar equipment and liquid oxygen that could be converted back to a gas for breathing.

Coweta’s George H. Willix Sr. made sure Air Force pilots had plenty of both.

Willix grew up in Alexandria Bay in upstate New York. After graduating from Alexandria Bay High School he headed straight for the military, enlisting in the U.S. Air Force in September 1964.

“I was ready to see some new

This Vietnam photo from Ed Brinton shows damage at Danang after enemy forces blew up a fuel depot. The fires burned for days.

shells were fired into the huge facility.

“They didn’t usually hit anything,” Willix said. “But they were always firing at us. You could set your watch by it.”

One day the usual air raid warning sounded and Willix ordered his crew into an air raid bunker just a few feet away from the manufacturing plant. Willix pulled the plug to shut the plant down and headed for the bunker, but before he got there an artillery shell landed in the walled compound, knocked Willix to his knees and blew him through the bunker entrance.

When he recovered from the blast, Willix found a large piece of shrapnel embedded in the back of his flak jacket.

“If I hadn’t been wearing that flak jacket it would have been really bad,” Willix said.

“God was there. That’s for sure.”

After that close call, things rocked along until Jan. 31, 1968, when the tactical situation changed. On Jan. 30, commanders received intelligence reports indicating a major attack against the base was imminent. Army troops could not get there to defend the base until 3:30 a.m. on Jan. 31.

At midnight, Willix and some other airmen were stationed 10 feet apart around the base perimeter fence, given rifles and told to get ready to fight.

“They knew we weren’t infantry but a commander asked if I’d had basic training and I said yes,” Willix said.

“That commander said they were going to supply us with plenty of ammo and keep the area lit with flares and said, ‘If anything moves out there, light it up.’”

At 3 a.m. North Vietnamese Army regulars and Vietcong guerrillas attacked in force.

Willix and his fellow defenders on the perimeter started shooting and didn’t stop.

Minutes after the attack began, U.S. planes joined the fight, dropping napalm on advancing enemy forces. The napalm fell so close to Willix it singed his eyebrows.

“There were too many of them to count,” Willix said.

“The enemy was everywhere.

With the flares you could see them but they could see you, too, and they kept shooting and so did we. You’d just pop up and fire and run through your ammo and get some more and do it again. It was hard. It was a long night, something you don’t forget.”

Enemy casualties were massive and included some surprises. The next day, American forces discovered that nine of the dead enemy attackers were Vietnamese who worked as civilians at Bien Hoa. “That told me they were going to go with whoever they thought was going to win the war,” Willix said. “And they didn’t think it was us.”

Willix was discharged in September 1968 and worked in the construction and golf business before settling into long executive careers with Greyhound Bus Lines and Universal Forest Products.

Willix moved to Coweta nine years ago and said he never regretted his service but was disappointed over the way the war was handled and the way returning military personnel were treated.

“We didn’t get any parades or waving flags or any of that,” he said. “But we did our part and when you’re in the military that’s what you do. I’m proud of what I did and the people I served with. I’m glad I went and I’d do it again. But I think if military commanders had been in control it would have been over a lot quicker.”

George Willix at Bien Hoa Vietnam with a tank of liquid oxygen that was carried aboard aircraft that flew at high altitude.

George Willix on guard duty in Vietnam at Bien Hoa.

A one-ton liquid oxygen facility used in Vietnam. It often took several units like this to produce enough material for all the flights, George Willix said.

Many gave.

Some gave all.

We give thanks to our Vietnam heroes.

INC.

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12 • Vietnam Veterans Memorial Moving Wall Edition • October 2011

VETERANS

Two Coweta men in Vietnam earned Medal of Honor

By ALEX McRAE alex@newnan.com Even the most unpopular wars produce heroes. The Vietnam War was no exception.

Those whose military actions are deemed exceptional by any measure are awarded the Medal of Honor.

The Medal of Honor is the highest military decoration awarded by the United States government and is awarded by the president in the name of Congress. The medal is awarded to members of the United States Armed Forces who distinguish themselves through “conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his or her life above and beyond the call of duty while engaged in an action against an enemy of the United States.”

According to military records, only 3,468 U.S. military personnel have been awarded the nation’s highest military honor.

The Vietnam War produced 246 Medal of Honor recipients.

Amazingly, two of them shared the same hometown: Newnan, Ga. This rare distinction was even noticed by President Lyndon Johnson on Jan. 16, 1969, during the Medal of Honor ceremony that included Air Force Col. Joe M. Jackson and Marine Corps Major

discovered that three members of a combat control team had been left behind.

By then, the airfield at Kham Duc was ablaze with U.S. aircraft that had been shot down during the evacuation.

Hundreds of civilians and dozens of soldiers had already been killed. Going back for the last three men was so risky, volunteers were called for.

“I was the closest one there so I said I’d do it,” Jackson said.

“There wasn’t really a choice.

So we got to work.”

Jackson was flying overhead when a previous attempt to pick up the three men failed, so he knew exactly where they were and where he needed to land to have the best chance of getting the men aboard and out of danger.

As he approached, Jackson banked the plane to line up with the runway and dropped full flaps. The C-123 went into a steep dive, dropping at 4,000 feet per minute, eight times faster than a normal cargo plane’s rate of descent.

He told his crew exactly what needed to be done and then headed directly toward the inferno where enemy

Dignitaries gather for ceremonies at Newnan High’s Drake Stadium honoring hometown heroes and Medal of Honor recipients Air Force Col. Joe M. Jackson and Marine Corps Major Stephen Pless in 1969.

Stephen Pless.

When he presented the Medals of Honor to Pless and Jackson, Johnson said, “There must be something in the water down in Newnan.”

Jackson graduated from Newnan High School in 1940 and joined the military in 1941.

He wanted to be a pilot but was not allowed into flight training at the time because he only had a high school diploma.

Instead, he became an aircraft mechanic, and said he enjoyed the work. Jackson said after the U.S. entered World War II, pilots were desperately needed. After passing a special test, he was admitted to the Army Air Corps and assigned to pilot training.

Jackson earned his wings in 1943 and served in several stateside positions. At the end of World War II, he considered coming back to Newnan and starting a business. But the job market was poor and he decided to make a career of the military. By 1951, the U.S. was engaged in the Korean Conflict, during which Jackson flew 107 combat missions in his F-84 fighter.

In the early 1960s, Jackson was stationed in Albany, Ga., with a detachment of U-2 reconnaissance planes, highaltitude aircraft used to make top-secret photos of suspected enemy bases or equipment.

Jackson was part of the U-2 operation that photographed Soviet missiles installed in Cuba. The missiles precipitated the 1962 Cuban missile crisis, during which the U.S. and Soviet Union came perilously close to war before Soviet leaders capitulated to President John F. Kennedy’s demands that the missiles be removed.

Jackson served in Europe and was then assigned to duty in Vietnam. Instead of jets, he flew C-123 cargo planes, but Jackson said he didn’t consider it a step down.

“It was a fun plane to fly,” he said. “It was not a letdown at all. It was exciting duty.”

It was especially exciting on May 12, 1968, Mother’s Day, when Jackson flew the mission for which he earned the Medal of Honor.

At the time of the mission, Jackson was flying routine transport runs between camps and airstrips, and at the time of the rescue mission, was on one of his biannual flight checks.

When Jackson took off on May 12, a U.S. base at Kham Duc was under heavy attack by North Vietnamese troops.

Americans had taken heavy casualties and the base was being evacuated on May 11 and 12. What was believed to be the final plane carrying troops out had just left when it was

forces waited with small arms, mortars, light and heavy automatic weapons and recoilless rifle fire. The camp was engulfed in flames, and ammunition dumps were continuously exploding, littering the runway with debris.

Eight aircraft had been destroyed and wreckage from three of them littered the runway, reducing the usable length of the one-mile runway to 2,200 feet. The only photo of a Medal of Honor action known to exist is of Jackson’s landing on that runway. It was taken by another pilot circling the airstrip while Jackson was on the ground.

Although fully aware of the likely failure of a rescue attempt, Jackson landed the unarmed cargo plane near where the combat control team was hiding.

Jackson watched the three men sprint like Olympic runners across the airfield and climb aboard. While on the ground, his aircraft was the target of intense hostile fire. A 122 mm rocket landed in front of the plane’s nose, skidded, broke in half and lay there sizzling. It was a dud and didn’t explode.

The plane was only on the ground for one minute while boarding the troops.

Miraculously, it was only after the plane taxied away that mortars began falling where the plane had stopped.

“It took them that long to get their bearings,” Jackson said.

“We got out just in time.”

Asked later why he took the risk when a prior rescue attempt failed and the odds were overwhelmingly against him and his crew, Jackson said, “Because it was the right thing to do.”

Jackson said he didn’t inform his crew about his decision to make the rescue effort until the mission was under way, but knew they understood the situation.

“They had no objection,” Jackson said. “At the time, they didn’t say it to me, but they knew what had to be done as well as me.”

Jackson, along with Marine Corps Major Stephen Pless — also of Newnan — was presented with the Medal of Honor by President Lyndon Johnson in a White House ceremony on Jan. 16, 1969.

Stephen Pless was born Stephen Pollard in Newnan on Sept. 6, 1939. When Pless’ mother, Nancy Lassetter Pollard, divorced, she moved to Atlanta and remarried. Her husband, Berlin Pless, adopted Stephen and his name was changed.

Stephen Pless graduated from Georgia Military Academy in College Park and joined the U.S. Marine Corps in 1959.

While a senior at Georgia

Military Academy, Pless enlisted in the U.S. Marine Corps and served with the 1st Motor Transport Battalion in Atlanta.

After recruit training and advanced combat training Pless served as an artillery surveyor with the 10th Marine Regiment, 2nd Marine Division, until September 1958.

Pless then qualified for flight training at Pensacola, Fla., and was commissioned a second lieutenant on Sept. 16, 1959.

After several overseas assignments, including a 1962-63 tour in Vietnam, Pless returned to Pensacola as a flight instructor.

In March 1967, Pless returned to Vietnam, serving as Assistant Operations Officer, VMO-6, Marine Aircraft Group 36, 1st Marine Aircraft Wing. Pless flew 780 combat missions in Vietnam. He was awarded the Medal of Honor for his heroic actions while rescuing four soldiers trapped by heavy enemy fire at Quang Ngai on Aug. 19, 1967.

Pless’ medal of honor citation describes the events of that day best. It says: “For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty while serving as a helicopter gunship pilot attached to Marine Observation Squadron Six in action against enemy forces near Quang Ngai.

“Captain Pless was flying his gunship while escorting other helicopters. He monitored an emergency call on his headset and learned that four American soldiers were being overwhelmed by a large Viet Cong force.

“He flew to the beach where the soldiers were stranded and quickly noted that 30 to 50 enemy soldiers were advancing in the open. Some of the enemy were bayoneting and beating the downed Americans.

“Captain Pless launched a personal assault on the enemy force, killing or wounding many with his guns and rockets while forcing the remainder into a nearby tree line. His rocket and strafing runs were made at such low level that he had to fly through debris “created by explosions from his own rockets.

“When one of the wounded Americans gestured for assistance, Captain Pless maneuvered his helicopter and landed, putting himself and his gunship between the wounded and the enemy. His crew then assisted the wounded and rushed them to the helicopter.

“Meanwhile, the enemy concentrated their full fire power on the helicopter, and time and again, the Viet Cong attempted to rush the aircraft. At times, they were within three feet of the gunship before the Americans forced them to retreat.

“Once the wounded soldiers and the Marine crew were safely aboard the riddled helicopter, Captain Pless attempted a lift-off. Before the gunship became safely airborne, the overloaded aircraft settled four times into the water.

“Captain Pless’ “extraordinary heroism, coupled with his outstanding flying skill, prevented the annihilation of the tiny force.”

After his final tour of Vietnam, Pless returned to the States and was named Administrative Assistant of the Officer Candidate School at the Naval Air Station, Pensacola, Fla. Pless died while driving his motorcycle across the bridge leading from Pensacola to Pensacola Beach. The bridge was a drawbridge with a center span that opened horizontally to allow large ships to pass.

As Pless approached the bridge’s center span, he did not notice until too late that the span was open. Pless was unable to stop in time and his motorcycle went off the bridge and into Pensacola Bay. After a seven-hour search, divers pulled Pless’ body from the water.

Pless died on July 20, 1969 — the same day American astronauts first set foot on the moon. At the time of his death, Pless, just 29, was the youngest Major in the U.S. Marine Corps.

In early 1969, Maj. Pless and Col. Jackson were honored by local citizens and given the keys to the city of Newnan, as well as numerous other gifts.

The Newnan National Guard Armory was subsequently renamed the Jackson-Pless Armory in honor of both men and dedicated in the late 1970s.

In early 1969, Col. Joe M. Jackson, far left, and Maj. Stephen Pless, far right, were honored by Newnan citizens and given the keys to the city of Newnan, as well as numerous other gifts. At center is then-Mayor Nat Glover.

Newnan Mayor Nat Glover, right, presents the key to the city of Newnan to Maj. Stephen Pless at ceremonies back home in early 1969.

Military officials salute during ceremonies honoring Col. Joe Jackson and Maj. Stephen Pless in 1969 at Newnan High’s Drake Stadium.

Photos courtesy Bob Shapiro

Maj. Stephen Pless, left, and Col. Joe Jackson, right, pose with a local Boy Scout during ceremonies honoring Pless and Jackson after they were awarded the Medal of Honor.

Maj. Stephen Pless, left, and Col. Joe Jackson, right, with a local Boy Scout at one of the Newnan ceremonies honoring Jackson and Pless after they were awarded the medal of Honor in 1969.

Marine Corps Major Stephen Pless rides in a parade in Newnan in early 1969. Pless and Air Force Col. Joe M. Jackson were honored by local citizens and given the keys to the city of Newnan after they were given the Medal of Honor by Pres. Lyndon Johnson for their service in Vietnam.

Among those at a joint meeting of the Newnan Kiwanis Club and Newnan Rotary Club honoring Newnan’s Medal of Honor recipients in 1969 for their service in Vietnam are, far left, Bob B. Mann and Col. Joe M. Jackson; and second from right, Maj. Stephen Pless.

A large crowd gathered at Newnan High’s Drake Stadium during festivities honoring Col. Joe Jackson and Maj. Stephen Pless.

October 2011 • Vietnam Veterans Memorial Moving Wall Edition • 13

The Newnan Times-Herald joins the citizens of Coweta County in saying “Thank You” and “Welcome Home” to the Vietnam veterans who registered with the newspaper to be recognized in this special edition.

Listed below are veterans currently living in Coweta County who served on active duty in Vietnam between 1961 and 1975.

Abair, Garry Abbey, John Adams, John A. III Adams, Steve Albright, David F. Adcock, Blake Alford, Billy Alford, EuGene Allen, Ron Amis, Donald Joseph Anthony, James N. Arace, Art Archibald, James W. Arnold, Jeffrey M. Asher, Jim Atkinson, Charles Atkinson, Gerald Austin, William J. “Billy” Ayers, James E. “Cotton” Bagby, Tom Baldauf, Dennis Ball, Eddie Barber, Donnie Clayton Barczak, Charles John Barnes, Roy D. Jr. Barnett, Stephen Wayne Sr. Barnum, James Oscar Jr. Barton, George W. Jr. Bassett, Stephen Bastyr, Timothy M. Bates, William Battaglio, Louie Beacham, Ronald S. Bearden, James “Rick” Beck, Howard Beckom, Danny L. Beckom, Jerry D. Beckom, Larry Ray Behrens, Earl H. Behrens, Eugene M. Bell, Donnie E. Bell, James F. “Ernie” Benefield, Walter “Ron” Berkowitz, Hank Bettencourt, Dana Bettencourt, Ernie Bishop, Ira Bishop, Paul Jr. Black, Grady Blair, Danny Bogs, Kenneth H. “Ken” Bonner, James E. Boozer, J. L. Bowen, Rodger E. Boyd, Thomas Gerald Boyd, Willie Brewer, C. Leland “Lee” Briggs, Bob Brittain, David Brooks, Thomas R. Brooks, James M. Brooks, Virgil Brown, Ajalin Brown, Curtis Robert Brown, Danny Brown, David A. Sr. Brown, Eddie Leon Brown, Ronald William Brown, Ronald W. Buchsen, Ronald J. Burgess, Herbert L. Burke, James L. Burks, Dr. Billy Burns, Ronald Mathew Sr. Burroughs, Anthony Dean Butler, Larry Byrd, Herman Carl Jr. Byrd, Stephen “Steve” Calhoun, James Calhoun, Michael Calvin Callaway, James Burton Camp, Jack Carden, Elvis L. Carden, John Sibley Carlisle, Wayne Carlton, Paul Carroll, Millard Frank “Dicky” Carter, James F. Carter, Ronald L. Carter, Ronald Lee Cason, Robert Walker Chapman, Carl B. Chapman, Curtis H. Chapman, Donald R. “Don” Chappell, John C. Cheatwood, Jimmy Steve Christopher, William T. Cimakosky, Leo P. Clark, Katie Mozelle Clarke, Larry

Clemenok, John T. Cline, Bill Collens, County Cofield, Randall Cole, Robert L. Cole, William Jr. Collette, Claude M. Jr. Collins, Bryant Conley, John Conner, Alton Cook, Larry Thomas Cooper, Johnny Ray Cooper, Harvey L. Jr. Corbitt, Michael I. Sr. Cowles, Calvin D. Couch, Thomas Aubry Craig, Raymond “Tommy” Crawford, Charles W. Crouch, Tom Culbreth, Wilson W. Darrow, Mark Daughtry, James “Jim” Davenport, Ronald Davis, Jackie N. Davis, Jodie R. Jr. Davis, John W. Davison, Lois Dean, Robert H. Deichelbor, Gretchen Schaefer “Gigi” Deleshaw, Carl Edward Jr. Denney, James C. Derden, Charles William Dewberry, Hollis M. Dewitt, Ervin M. Dhauw, Edward Dietz, Daniel R. Dixon, Richard L. Dobbins, James F. “Jim” Dobyne, Isiah Jr. Doler, Joseph C. Downey, Thomas Dyes, Clifford L. “Leon” Drake, Joseph E. Duff, Thomas R. Duncan, Ellis W. “Sonny” Durrah, Clifford Jr. Duty, Dennis R. Edmondson, Robert G. “Bob” Edwards, Randall Eiland, Jimmy Dale Elder, Edward J. Elder, Eugene Elder, John Robert Elingburg, Kurt Elliott, William Elrod, Clyde H. Erb, Jim Ethridge, Wayne G. Evans, C. Steve Evans, Gregory Allen Falk, Perry Fanelli, Dominick Louis Fanning, Steven E. Ferman, Dr. Daniel Ferrell, John Glenn Fields, David L. Finn, Charles Fisher, Michael L. “Mick” Fitzmorris, Lawrence B. Flake, Glenn Flanagan, Robert E. Flener, Ted Fletcher, James Fogg, Jim Foster, Garry Foster, Ivy Sr. Foster, Nolan Fountain, John E. Freeman, Bobby Freeman, Henry J. Frishe, Tom Gagnon, James M. Gann, Joel D. “Joe” Garrett, Coleman A. Garris, Roger T. Gibby, Danny B. Gibby, Jack Terry Gibson, Curtis Gibson, Grady Gillespie, Kenneth Gilley, Winnon L. Ginn, James P. Glenn, James A. Glover, J. Littleton Jr. “Litt” Graska, K. Stephen Green, John L. Greene, Don Greene, Taylor J. Griffies, Jerry L.

Grizzard, William D. “Doug” Groover, James A. Grubbs, Philip Gulick, Jeffrey Hall, Eddie E. Ham, David Hammett, Jerry E. Hanna, Philip K. Hansen, Robert K. Harden, Larry Sr. Hargett, Darrell Harper, Roger D. Harper, Travis Lee Harrell, Donald D. Harris, Ben P. Harris, Michael M. Harris, Patrick V. Harris, Tommy Hugh Harrison, William B. Hasselberger, Frank Hayden, Melvin B. Hayes, David W. Hayes, Larry B. Hayes, Raymond Hayhurst, Bruce A. Hazelton, James K. “Ken” Head, Gerry Hedlund, David Hemphill, John R. Herring, Jimmie Hewett, Leon Hill, David Hill, James Edward Hill, William Hill, Willie E. Hines, Thomas E. Jr. Hoban, Walter Hobby, Berrian Avery Hodges, Willis M. Holcomb, Linard F. Holcomb, Robert “Rob” Howard, Bruce Howard, Jesse C. Jr. Hubbard, Embry L. Huckaby, Marshall C. Hudson, David Hughes, James D. “Skip” Hunter, Jackie Huston, Patric Joseph Hyde, Terry Hyde, Thomas W. Ingram, David H. Iverson, Clarence W. Jr. Jackson, Bruce Jackson, Daniel R. Jacobs, Robert “Bobby” Jacobs, Ronald C. Jacobus, Thomas J. James, David Wayne Jay, Ronald M. Jerome, Bill Jessel, David G. Jones, Dave Jones, David W. Jones, Milton Jones, Pat E. Jones, Ray Johnson, Michael A. Johnson, Murphy L. Joyner, Larry D. Karnich, Joseph Kelley, Harry Kelley, Wayne Kendzierski, Daniel B. Sr. Kennedy, Wayne Kinsey, Michael D. Kirby, Charles Barry Kirby, Wyatt Kirkland, Jerome J. Kirkland, John W. Jr. Kirkland, Richard D. Kirkpatrick, Cornwall E. Kleese, Gene Kohler, William R. Kotz, Robert “Bob” Kupferberg, Ronald Kuykendall, Rickey G. Sr. Lake, Lance K. Landrum, Fred K., Jr. Lane, Daniel R. Lawson, James Lay, Vernatta A. Leathers, James E. “Jim” Lee, Troy Larry Levingston, Danny Lewis, Allen W. Lewis, David D. Lisle, Robert Lloyd, Elvis Loadholtes, Joe

Long, Gary W. Long, John Long, Wiley Glenn Jr. Lowe, James Robert Lowe, James R. “Bob” Lowe, Joe Fene Lowe, William H. Luff, Mike Luscher, Albert Luttrell, Les, Dr. Luttrell, Eddie Lyon, Julius Wayne Mansour, Ellis A. McAdow, Richard N. McBride, Jack B. McCrary, Walter McDonald, Gene McGee, Tony McGuffey, Jerry Orrick McDonald, Dale McDonald, Gene McGaha, Donald R. McGee, James A. “Tony” McGowan, Arthur G. McGuigan, Joe McKnight, Paul Raymond McKoon, Guy Wesley McKoy, Carlton Jr. McKoy, Fred R. McLendon, Charles S. Jr. McMillan, Jon V. McNaughton, James D. “Dave” McNear, Clarence Charles “Chuck” Mack, Jim Mack, Kay W. Madaris, Eddie Malcolm, Jerry Lee Maloof, Michael J. Jr. Mapp, Rickey Frank Marchman, Derrell Rogers Markby, David L. Marshall, Larry Earl Martin, Carl C. Jr Martin, Tom Martindale, Chet Masdon, Walter “Gene” Massingale, Nelson W. Mattingly, James L. “Jim” Meade, Richard J. Meeks, Douglas E. Menese, Anthony W. Merrell, Robert Daniel Meyerhoff, Roger Jay Midas, Michael T. Jr. “Mike” Middleton, Jack E. Sr. Migneault, Frank E. Miller, Anthony “Tony” Miller, Burt Robert III “Robin” Miller, Gary Miller, Homer P. Miller, Joe E. Jr. Miller, John E. Miller, Richard C. Milner, Richard W. Mims, James O. III Mims, Kenneth Bryant Jr. Minton, William Elliott “Bill” Miolen, James A. Mitchell, Bobby Mitchell, Clyde L. Mitchell, John “Jack” II Moat, William R. Moody, Bill Moody, Larry J. Moor, Ed Moore, Jerry Moore, John W. Moore, Thomas F. Moore, Wayne Morgan, Gerald Lee Mosley, Donald Musick, Ronald Nation, James “Larry” Neely, Adrien M. Neil, Arthur Nesbitt, Realus E. Jr. Newton, Robert D. Nieto, Jesse Norton, Walter Ferrell O’Dell, Patrick J. Oles, Stephen R. Sr. Ollis, Elom Olsen, Charles Ondovchik, Lawrence O’Neal, David Overton, Jerry Owens, Jerry F. Pandy, John L. Panepento, Jim

Parham, Gary Parker, Edward E. Parker, Steven A. Partridge, Robert E. Patterson, J.C. Payne, Herbert M. Payton, Alton M. Payton, Larry J. Payton, Ronald Pence, Thomas E. Perry, Norman R. Peterson, Leland Petry, Arthur B. Phillips, Edward L. Phillips, Larry Pike, Thomas M. Pleasant, Tommy Pope, Arthur Laurie Pope, L. Allen Portanova, Anthony Posta, Charles D. Powell, James Edward Priest, Tony Boyd Prescott, Clyde V. Price, Jack C. Pruitt, Dale Purdy, William C. “Bill” Purgason, Robert D. Pye, William O. Ragan, William Thomas “Tom” Ragland, Alfred Jr. Ragland, Alfred M. Rajani, Russell Ralston, Roger Ransby, Roy Ransby, Stanford Raptis, Robert Claude Reece, Frank Reeves, Jerry F. Reeves, Larry A. Reeves, Willie Jr. Rehman, Donald I. Reynolds, Charles R. “Butch” Richardson, Paul M. Richey, Johnnie Riggs, Rodney F. Robbins, Howard K. “Rob” Roberts, Charles L. Robinson, Joe Rogers, James H. Rollins, Paul E. Jr Ronningen, Jerome O. Rose, Kenneth Rosser, Kenneth Rush, Finley Lincoln Russell, Kenneth M. Sandlin, David E. Schaefer, Harry Schlicker, James C. Schock, Robert Joseph Jr. Scogin, James A. Scott, David Glenn Secor, Gene Secor, John E. Sells, James O. Seney, Gary B. Sewell, Randy Shaffer, Richard “Dick” Shapiro, Bob Shaul, Percy G. Shaw, Jack Shelby, David C. Jr. Shell, Jerrel M. Shelnutt, Donald Shelnutt, James T. Shelton, William Sherrer, Melvin R. Shipman, Herman Samuel “Sam” Sibley, Michael A. Sims, Harold R. Skinner, John H. Slaton, Archie Slaton, Terry Slay, Bob Smith, Charlie Smith, Charles W. Smith, Donald J. Smith, E. Steve Smith, Eugene C. “Gene” Smith, Harold Smith, Jerry Lynn Smith, Raiford Smith, Richard H. Smith, Robert Smith, Robert Lee Smith, Roger D. Smith, Steven C. Snell, Cecil L. Snelling, Danny Sondey, Michael F.

Spates, James T. Spencer, Larry L. Spivey, Benjamin G. Spradlin, Dale McGee Spradlin, Jim Spradlin, James M. Spratlin, James E. “Pete” Spruck, Robert A. Stancill, William Ronald Sr. “Ronnie” Starnes, William Steele, Doyle Steele, Harry R. Stender, Dick Stephens, Alan Stephens, James H. Stevens, Donald C. Stewart, Norman Lee Stewart, Otis Still, Tracy D. Stitcher, James B. Stoel, Duane A. Stovall, William J. Jr. Strickland, Joe W. Strozier, Charles E. Sr. Sullen, Silas B. Sweeney, Donald B. Swetmon, Dave Taldion, Devlin Tanner, Vic Tarleton, Thomas W. Teagle, Willie E. “Chip” Teller, Robert W. Jr. Tenney, William Boyd Terry, Homer T. Thomasson, Dr. James A. Jr. Thompson, David Richard Thompson, James Lamar II Thompson, Ron Thompson, Thomas Richard “Tommy” Tillery, William Irvin Tinch, Johnny Lee Tingle, Robert Todd, Joseph P. Tokarsky, William Tracey, Ron Tracy, John Turner, Fred A. Valentine, Jerry Valentino, Kent Vann, David B. Varnadore, Morris L. Vaught, Art Vereen, K. F. VonBerge, Gerald C. Wahoske, Randall “Randy” Walker, James Nolen “Jimmy” Walker, Paul Raymond Wallace, William “Bill” Walls, C. Raymond Walls, Gary Walter, Karl F. Ward, Robert M. Waters, George Watkiss, Phil Watson, Lee H. Weikle, Robert L. Weinig, John Wheeler, Charles Cochran Whisenhunt, Jerry White, Alvin White, Jennings White, Marshall Lamar Wilbert, Bill Wienand, Bernard J.l Wilhite, John C. Williams, Charles Williams, John B. Williams, Thomas E. Williams, Tim. C Willix, George H. Sr. Wilson, Charles E. “Chuck” Wilson, Roy Daniel Winterrath, Roger Wolcott, Carl E. Wood, Charles Wood, Oliver L. Wood, Robert Woodruff, Thomas F. Woods, James C. Word, William F. “Bill” Wortham, Larry B. Yeager, Charles M. Yeager, Robert L. York, Alvin Young, John R. Youngblood, Jack T. Zitterich, Michael

14 • Vietnam Veterans Memorial Moving Wall Edition • October 2011

VETERANS

Cowetans supported the Vietnam troops

By ALEX McRAE alex@newnan.com Anyone who lived in America during the Vietnam War felt the huge impact the struggle had on the nation.

From the way the news media covered the fighting, it too often seemed like the only people back home supporting the troops were their comrades in uniform. Almost daily, the country was swamped with pictures of huge antiwar protests. Film of every socalled American atrocity in Vietnam was aired nightly on the three American TV networks, always without context or a word of explanation from those involved.

Photos of San Francisco “flower children” dropping daisies into military rifles at antiwar protests became a cliché for the crowd that chanted “Make Love, Not War.” A small minority of Vietnam veterans even organized to protest the war.

Meanwhile, Hollywood celebrities found a way to turn tragedy, suffering and sacrifice into box office gold. Among veterans then and now, none was more despised than Jane Fonda, who went to North Vietnam, posed on a North Vietnamese antiaircraft gun and made radio broadcasts in which she called American military and political officials “war criminals.”

But away from America’s major media centers, many communities backed the troops that went to fight and die in Vietnam. None was more supportive than Coweta County.

All during the war, troops living in or passing through Coweta were accorded the dignity and respect their effort and sacrifice had earned. And the Coweta community didn’t just pay lip service to supporting the troops. Cowetans took action to show their respect for those fighting half a world away.

In March 1968, citizens of Newnan and Coweta County officially “adopted” the 132nd

Among dignitaries on hand during the Memorial Day 1988 dedication of the Vietnam Memorial Plaque at the Coweta County Courthouse are, from left, David Stripling, G.D. Hendrix and Secretary of State Max Cleland.

Helicopter Company and the 16th Transportation Corps, then forming at Ft. Benning for deployment to Vietnam.

Local officials traveled to Ft. Benning to meet unit commanders and troops. A few weeks later, more than 3,500 locals hosted a barbecue and celebrated the adoption with ceremonies at the Newnan National Guard Armory and the Newnan-Coweta Airport.

The unit flew some of its helicopters from Ft. Benning to Newnan to show Cowetans the equipment they would be flying in Vietnam.

Once deployed in Vietnam, members of the unit sent back

a picture showing a sign in the unit’s company area pointing to Newnan, Ga. When the helicopter unit adopted an entire orphanage at An Tan, Vietnam, Cowetans adopted the facility, too, and showered the orphanage with cash and gifts for the children.

Former Coweta Schools Superintendent Bobby Welch was involved in the local adoption ceremonies. At the time, he said Newnan was “a very patriotic place."

That never changed. As part of the 2011 Veterans Muster occasion, a ceremony will be held Oct. 23 to recognize the 132nd Helicopter Unit and 16th

Transportation Detachment.

Some surviving members of the unit are expected to attend.

The Vietnam War produced 246 Medal of Honor recipients.

Two of them shared the same hometown: Newnan, Ga. This rare distinction was even noticed by President Lyndon Johnson on Jan. 16, 1969, during the Medal of Honor ceremony that included Air Force Col. Joe M. Jackson and Marine Corps Major Stephen Pless.

Not long after being presented with the nation’s highest military honor, Maj. Pless and Col. Jackson were honored by Coweta citizens and given the keys to the city of Newnan, as

well as numerous other gifts.

The Newnan National Guard Armory was subsequently renamed the Jackson-Pless Armory in honor of both men and dedicated in the late 1970s.

In 1988, Cowetans killed in Vietnam were honored with a plaque on the Coweta County Courthouse. The event was attended by political and military dignitaries from Coweta and across the state, including Georgia Secretary of State Max Cleland, who became a triple amputee while serving in Vietnam.

A similar memorial honoring Cowetans killed in Vietnam was erected at the Veterans

VETERANS and MILITARY FAMILIES –

Memorial Plaza at Newnan’s city park at the corner of Jackson Street and Temple Avenue when the plaza was dedicated in 2009.

Throughout the Vietnam War, The Newnan TimesHerald carried stories from the battlefront and often included pictures sent back home from soldiers serving abroad. One of them depicted Lt. John R. Lockard of Newnan shaving in the field in 1970 while serving near Song Be, Vietnam.

Lockard remembers the picture that his mother, Hazel Lockard, who still calls Newnan home, saved for him.

He also remembers the local attitude, then and now.

“Newnan is very special,” Lockard said. “It had always been a very patriotic place. In many ways it reminds me of small New England towns that still revere the military tradition going back to the American Revolution.

“Newnan is among the special pockets of patriotism across the country. In all our country’s wars, the Southeast has never deserted the troops, and that was always true of Newnan.”

Lockard served in the Army for 23 years before retiring as Lt. Col. in 1991 and settling in Columbia, S.C. After leaving the Army he led the ROTC program at the University of South Carolina for three years.

John Lockard’s father, Claire Lockard, is another Coweta military success story. He was among the first wave of U.S. soldiers to set foot on Utah Beach during the Normandy Invasion on June 6, 1944. After World War II Claire Lockard had a long career with the military and the CIA. Claire Lockard was elected Coweta’s Veteran of the Year for 2006.

When the Vietnam Memorial Moving Wall comes to Coweta County Oct. 20-23, The Wall, and visitors who come to pay their respects to Vietnam’s fallen, will feel right at home.

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Newnan’s John Lockard is shown later in his military career.

This photo sent to Newnan by the U.S. Army ran in the April 1, 1970, edition of The Newnan Times-Herald. It depicts Newnan’s Lt. John Lockard shaving at a spot on Nui Ba Ra Mountain near Song Be, Vietnam. At the time, Lockard was serving with the U.S. Army’s 12th Cavalry.

“We will always remember.

We will always be proud.

We will always be prepared, so we may always be free.”

– Ronald Reagan

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Dr. Arledge is a graduate of the University of Virginia with a B.S. degree in Biology. He completed medical school at the Medical College of Virginia. He completed his residency at the Medical College of Virginia and his fellowship in Gastroenterology at the University of South Florida. He is Board Certified in Internal Medicine and Gastroenterology. He is also a Flight Surgeon rank of Major in the Georgia Air National Guard Savannah. Dr. Arledge joined West Georgia Gastroenterology Associates in September 2008.

Dr. Lucas is a graduate of the University of Illinois at Urbana and University

16 Jefferson Street • Newnan, GA 770-253-1576 • times-herald.com

of Illinois College of Medicine at Chicago. She completed her residency and fellowship at University of Illinois Hospitals and Clinics Prior to joining West Georgia Gastroenterology Associates in 2007, Dr. Lucas served as Medical Director of Liver Transplantation at University of Illinois at Chicago College of Medicine and at Rush University Medical Center. She is Board Certified in Internal Medicine and Gastroenterology. She specializes in diseases of the liver.

www.westgagastro.com

October 2011 • Vietnam Veterans Memorial Moving Wall Edition • 15

VETERANS

Cowetans supported the Vietnam troops In the spring of 2011, the Coweta Commission on Veterans Affairs (CVA) began making plans for its second annual Veterans Muster. Since the U.S. Congress had just declared 2011 as the official 50th anniversary of the beginning of the Vietnam War, the CVA, which organizes and promotes the Veterans Muster, decided to focus the 2011 event on local veterans who had served in Vietnam.

As part of that effort,

arrangements were made to bring the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Traveling Wall, a halfsize replica of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington, D.C., to Coweta.

The memorial, known as “The Wall That Heals,” will be on display at the Coweta County Fairgrounds from Oct. 20-23 as the centerpiece of a week of events that begin on Oct. 16.

The Newnan Times-Herald supports the 2011 Veterans

Muster and, during the past 14 weeks, has presented a series designed to explain America’s involvement in Vietnam through stories told by some of the local veterans who served there.

But The Newnan TimesHerald realizes that a majority of the men and women who served in America’s military from 1961 to 1975 — designated as the Vietnam War Era by Congress — did not serve overseas in Vietnam. We also realize that no matter their branch of service,

no matter where they served and no matter their military duty, all who served during the Vietnam era played a vital role in our country’s national defense and, in many cases, served in roles directly supporting the fighting in Vietnam.

Their service and sacrifice deserve the thanks and gratitude of a grateful nation and community. The foundation of our nation’s military greatness is not built solely on the sacrifice of

those who fight in foreign wars.

Our military is great because of the combined efforts of all who serve with dignity and honor wherever their country sends them.

The Newnan Times-Herald wishes to take this opportunity to say “Well Done” and “Thank You For Your Service” to each and every member of our nation’s military who served anywhere around the globe during the Vietnam War Era.

Newnan adopted helicopter unit during war

By STEVE QUESINBERRY Special to Times-Herald The year 1968 has been described as the year that “rocked the world.”

Historians would call it a “watershed” year — a period that marks a turning point in a state of affairs. Extreme cultural changes were “rocking” the nation.

The year 1967 had seen Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band lead into the “Summer of Love” as disenchanted young people in the thousands left home and headed to San Francisco. The year 1968 would begin with the Tet Offensive that “rocked” the outcome and America’s support for the Vietnam War. That event influenced the race for the presidency, as Eugene McCarthy showed LBJ to be vulnerable.

Johnson withdrew from the race to save the Democratic Party from a bruising primary battle, which occurred anyway.

Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy were assassinated months apart, the Democratic Convention became a street battle in Chicago, the Russians invaded Czechoslovakia and Richard Nixon was elected president.

Fast-forward 37 years, 1968 is in our rear-view mirrors. The year 2005 found me speaking to the Atlanta Chapter of the Vietnam Helicopter Pilots Association in regards to the Vietnam War class that I teach at Newnan High School.

At the conclusion of the presentation one of the pilots approached me and said, “I remember Newnan.” I smiled, fully expecting to hear about how his family had stopped at Sprayberry’s Barbecue on a trip to Atlanta.

However, I was to be taken aback by his follow-up: “In 1968, my helicopter unit was adopted by the city of Newnan before we left for Vietnam.” My interest was immediately piqued. I had never heard anyone in Newnan speak of this connection.

Within a few weeks I had visited the public library and found the article that I knew would be in the local newspaper. This fascinating piece of local history appeared to be almost completely forgotten — no one that I had asked about it remembered it.

To envision Newnan, Ga., during the year that rocked the world I would have to find someone who remembered that year and Newnan’s adoption of this helicopter company.

Along with the local newspaper my search grew through the Internet. Newnan came together with the 132nd Helicopter Company and the 16th Transportation Corps early in 1968. One of the members of the 132nd, CWO Virl Martin (now of Arkansas), mentioned to his brother-inlaw James Sellers of Newnan that his unit would like to be sponsored by a town, but so far they had no offers.

Mr. Sellers (who has since died, but both of his sons, Tommy and Ronnie, still live in Newnan) contacted Mayor Nat Glover and the idea took off.

Newnan and Coweta County both embraced the idea wholeheartedly, and in late March 1968, held what would have been a huge event for a town of Newnan’s size. Lunch in the National Guard Armory, city and county key presentations, Chinook rides and displays, and army skydivers were all high points of the day.

In addition, a few weeks later, the 132nd flew a Chinook to Newnan and picked up some of the dignitaries involved in this ceremony. They flew them to Fort Benning and treated them to lunch, helicopter

demonstrations and tours of the 132nd area.

In recent months, members of the 132nd from various parts of the country have sent me photographs of these events.

Using this resource, I managed to find three local men that were in the photographs and invited them to sit down and talk about what transpired here in 1968.

Bobby Welch, former school system superintendent, was a school principal at this time and involved in this adoption project. He described Newnan as a “very patriotic place” in 1968.

According to Welch, “I don’t remember any of the ugliness that often accompanied the troops coming home from Vietnam.”

Wilkins Kirby, Coweta Commission chair in 1968, agreed, saying there was “no animosity toward the troops” in Coweta County as there seemed to be in so many parts of the country.

Dr. Charles Barron, another participant in the event, added, “There was a lot of patriotism in Newnan... I don’t think that we were the typical town for veterans to return to.”

The adoption ceremony itself went off extremely well, described by Barron as “a nice occasion.”

Kirby recalled the event: “The 132nd had a good crowd of people here ... wives and all.

They mingled in with all the Newnan people that were there. It was a big event for Newnan.”

Many of the men that were involved in the ceremony that day were also involved in the Fort Benning trip a few weeks later.

After 40 years, Barron recalls that event even more vividly.

“They even carried us down in a Chinook helicopter. I recall putting a helmet on inside the helicopter, and I didn’t know what it was for until they cranked it up. You really needed it! Once we were there they showed us how they evacuated soldiers and how they dropped them in by ropes. I was completely fascinated by it. It was a day to be remembered.”

Welch agreed with Barron, especially when it came to the noise from the Chinook.

“I remember that they gave me some ear plugs, and I didn’t want them. I always enjoyed flying. The Army guy told me I would come back to them later, and sure enough, it didn’t take long before I wanted them.”

Welch went on to describe an interesting conversation he had with one of the ground personnel after they were on the ground.

“I tried to keep track of the Chinook that brought us from Newnan, and during one of the demonstrations I noticed smoke coming from one of the engines,” Welch remembered.

“I got the attention of one of the military guys there and asked him if that was the aircraft that brought us down. He said that it was. I asked him if it was going to take us back. He replied that they would probably get another one to take us back.”

Kirby remembered another thing that the others had not.

“They flew us around Newnan for about 30-40 minutes. We went all over Coweta County, the downtown area, pretty low at times.”

“They knew we were there,” chimed in Barron as they laughed. The men remembered the unit fondly.

“We were treated royally,” according to Welch.

Barron concurred that “they were fantastic to us.”

Kirby said, “They were very gracious to us. I think that they

Delegates from Newnan and Coweta County at the Newnan-Coweta Airport are shown as they prepare to fly to Ft. Benning to visit the adopted helicopter company. Standing, from left, are Hamilton C. Arnall Jr., Dr. C.M. Barron, Wilkins Kirby Jr., Nat B. Glover, Earl B. Joiner, Dan Boone and Ray Cornay. Kneeling in front are H.M. Elder, Virl Martin, Maj. Jack C. Joiner, Maj. William F. Martin, Joe Norman and Sam Candler.

A delegation from Newnan and Coweta County poses after being flown to Ft. Benning on the CH-47 Chinook helicopter to visit the newlyadopted helicopter company in 1968. From left, standing, are Dan Moten, 132nd Commanding Officer Maj. Jack D. Joiner, Bob Somers, Jack Threlkeld, Jim Hardin, Bobby Welch, Albert Joyner, Dan Boone, Nat B. Glover, Wilkins Kirby Jr., Millard Camp, Dewey Smith, Dr. C. M. Barron, Roy Malone, Earnest Coleman, James Hamilton, Earnest Barron, Maj. Dale Hurst, Ray Cornay. Kneeling on front are Harold Barron, Joe Norman and Sam Candler.

Local officials and military officers were the dignitaries on the reviewing stand in Newnan during the official March 24, 1968, adoption of the helicopter company. Photos from the event were published in the March 28, 1968, edition of The Newnan Times-Herald. This view shows a portion of the reviewing stand. Among the dignitaries that day were Bill Roesel, Senoia, Mayor Weston Tidwell, Moreland, Newnan City Manager Earl Joiner, Councilman Clem Bureau, Coweta Commission Chairman Wilkins Kirby, Newnan Mayor Nat Glover, Councilman Joe P. Norman, City of Newnan and Coweta County Attorney Walter D. Sanders, Major Jack D. Joiner, Major Dale W. Hurst, Maj. and Mrs. Carl O. Johnson, Maj. and Mrs. Bobby Briggs, Maj. and Mrs. Morris D. Anderson, Maj. and Mrs. William F. Martin. Color guard members are pictured in front.

really appreciated what we did and we appreciated what they were doing for us.”

Kirby’s statement gave me the essence of what Newnan was and still is more than 40 years later. In a year that was rocking the history of the world, Newnan was supporting the young men that were going to where their country asked them to go.

They supported the local young men and the the young men of this helicopter unit, not because everyone else was doing it, but because it was right. It was the right thing to do then when it was unpopular, and it is the right thing to do today.

As the Coweta Commission on Veterans Affairs prepares to bring the “Wall that Heals” to

Coweta County in October, and as we honor the local men whose names are on that black marble, I think it is important to remember that helicopter company at the Newnan Airport 43 years ago.

If you want to know who Newnan is and what it was, look at what was done then and what is being done now. You might find that the year that

rocked the world had little impact on Newnan then or now.

(For more information on the men and machines of the 132nd Helicopter Company, visit their website at http://132ashc.org/) *** Steve Quesinberry is chairman of the Social Studies department at Newnan High School.

16 • Vietnam Veterans Memorial Moving Wall Edition • October 2011

VETERANS

Marines come ashore at Danang in March 1965

By ALEX McRAE alex@newnan.com During World War I, American media began saying the U.S. Marines were the “first to fight.”

The phrase stuck and was true again on March 8, 1965, when 3,500 Marines came ashore at Danang as the first U.S. ground combat troops to arrive in Vietnam.

During eight years of war in Vietnam, Marines like Coweta’s Larry Clarke never quit fighting.

Clarke was born and raised in Decatur, Ga. As soon as he graduated from Avondale High School in June 1966, he joined the Marines. Clarke knew where he was headed.

“The Vietnam War was on TV every night,” Clarke said.

“You could see it was pretty bad over there, but I felt like I wanted to join up.”

After basic and advanced infantry training Clarke boarded a ship for a 30-day cruise to Vietnam.

In November 1966, he arrived at Dong Ha, where he joined G Company of the Second Battalion of the 3rd Marine Division.

Clarke was surprised by his first glimpse of Vietnam.

“It was beautiful,” he said.

“There were mountains and rubber plantations with great old French colonial houses and it was really a gorgeous place.”

Clarke’s job wasn’t quite so glamorous.

When they weren’t on ambush patrol, Clarke’s unit ran search-and-destroy missions against Vietnamese villages. They always gave civilians a chance to clear out.

“We’d drop leaflets in the area before we got there so they’d know we were coming, then we’d go through a village and search for things the enemy had stored, like weapons or ammo or food or medical supplies,” Clarke said.

“We found lots of it and then we’d generally tear things up.

That’s what we did.”

Clarke still remembers the first time he was shot at. His fire team was walking toward a village on a hill when an enemy sniper opened fire.

“It was numbing at first,” Clarke said. “There was shooting everywhere and it takes awhile to figure it out. Then we got it together and fought back and finally called in artillery

Coweta’s Larry Clarke, left, and a Marine Corps buddy in Vietnam.

Larry Clarke relaxes in the field during a rare day off from combat patrols in Vietnam.

Larry Clarke relaxes in the field during a rare day off from combat patrols in Vietnam.

Larry Clarke, right, and two Marine Corps buddies during a brief incountry R&R (rest and recreation) break.

and they tore the place up. It wasn’t really close at all, but for my first time, it was close enough.”

Things soon got worse.

Clarke’s unit was on patrol almost every day, heading to wherever the fighting broke out. On one mission they were told to find some enemy soldiers dug in on a hill who had ambushed and killed several Marines.

On the way up the hill, Clarke’s group came across the bodies of their fallen comrades.

About 20 yards farther up the hill Clarke saw a North Vietnamese soldier in a hole with his hat still on. The enemy soldier was motionless and almost covered with dirt.

Between his legs Clarke saw the detonator of the satchel charge explosive that had killed the Marines down the trail.

“That was my first look at the enemy face-to-face,” Clarke said. “He was dead and that was good.”

Everywhere Clarke’s unit went, they found enemy soldiers dug in and ready to fight.

“We went after them the oldfashioned way,” Clarke said.

“We charged.”

Clarke carried an M-79 grenade launcher and a .45 pistol. The Marines had just been issued new M-16 rifles but didn’t like them because the bolts jammed. Most Marines preferred to stick with their M-14 carbines.

Clarke used an M-16 during one firefight and it jammed. He was forced to throw it down and fight with a .45 pistol he took from a dead Marine.

“When your weapon jams in close quarters combat you’re out of luck,” he said.

Clarke’s unit typically spent 30 days in the field before boarding the USS Tripoli, which dropped them off somewhere else to do it again. The fighting never stopped.

“Something bad happened almost every day over there,” he said. “I saw all I ever want to see of it.”

Clarke was discharged in December 1969 and returned to the Atlanta area to begin a 34year career with Western Electric and AT&T. He moved to Coweta in 1998 and retired in 2005.

Clarke remained close to some of his fellow Marines after they returned from Vietnam, but it was a Marine that didn’t come back that had the biggest impact on Clarke’s postwar life.

During Memorial Day festivities in 1995 Clarke’s thoughts went back to Bill Durham, who was killed on patrol in Thua Thien not long after visiting with Clarke. Clarke had never spoken to Durham’s parents and wondered if they knew the circumstances of their son’s death.

Clarke also had a photo of Durham taken in Vietnam shortly before Durham’s death and thought Durham’s family might want it.

Clarke only knew that Durham was from a small town in upstate New York and that his family ran a dairy farm.

Clarke contacted the Marine Corps and asked for information about how to contact Durham’s family. The Corps denied his request, citing privacy concerns.

Shortly afterward, Clarke heard a radio broadcast about a group associated with the Vietnam Veterans Memorial who were trying to collect information about all the solders whose names were inscribed on the memorial.

Clarke called the group and asked for help contacting Durham’s family. Three weeks passed and Clarke’s hopes faded.

Then one of the group’s members called Clarke, said he had Durham’s sister on the phone and asked if Clarke wanted to speak with her. They talked for more than an hour.

Clarke made several copies of the Durham photo and sent them to relatives in New York.

Later, Durham’s hometown newspaper began doing monthly features about local veterans who had died in the nation’s various wars. The newspaper tributes were accompanied by public ceremonies and services honoring the fallen.

When Durham’s turn came to be recognized, his family asked Clarke to attend the ceremony and share some memories of his friend and fellow Marine.

Clarke spoke at the ceremony and spent the night with members of Durham’s family.

“We talked a lot and reminisced about what we all did over there,” Clarke said. “That seemed to settle them. It did

Larry Clarke

Bob Kotz

Mike Corbitt

me, too. It was one time I finally got some things off my chest.”

Clarke still has questions about America’s involvement in Vietnam, but none about the men he fought with.

“In retrospect I both question and don’t question our motives,” Clarke said. “But soldiers serve because they are told to and we did a good job. I support the commander-inchief and I’m a patriot, but sometimes I have questions about the political motives of the government.”

Coweta’s Bob Kotz wasn’t expecting to join the Marines

the day he walked into the student center at Western Michigan University in early 1965. Kotz was born and raised in Chicago and was in his final semester of college with an aviation engineering degree in sight.

Kotz’s degree and future job assured a draft deferment, but when he saw a Marine recruiter in the student center wearing his dress blues, Kotz had to stop.

“I had friends and relatives who had been Marines, and that uniform looked so good I had to check it out,” he said.

Kotz said that after a week-

end of heavy socializing and a sleepless night of studying, he didn’t resemble a candidate for anything but a long nap. But he stopped to look over the Marine Corps materials. The recruiter invited Kotz to go upstairs and take the Marine Corps officer qualification test.

Kotz agreed, fully expecting to fall on his face. He was told to come back later that day for the results.

He was shocked to learn he had scored high enough to qualify for the Marine Corps officer candidate program. He immediately agreed to give up his draft deferment and enter the Corps after graduation.

“I felt like it was my war,” Kotz said. “I called my mom and she said, ‘What?’ But then she said she understood and said that ‘if you have to go into combat I’m glad you chose the Marines.’”

In October 1965, Kotz headed for Marine Corps officer training at Quantico, Va. He was among 750 officer candidates.

Only 500 finished the course.

By mid-1966 Kotz was a Marine Corps 2nd Lieutenant.

Most of the freshly-minted officers went to Vietnam, but the Corps sent Kotz to the Army’s missile school in Ft. Bliss, Tx., to study the radar-guided HAWK missile system. HAWK stands for Homing All the Way Killer.

After three months at missile school, Kotz was assigned to Cherry Point, N.C., and became a missile battery commander.

He was soon sent to Camp Lejeune, N.C., to organize and command the Marine Corps’ first Red Eye missile platoon.

The Red Eye is the forerunner of today’s Stinger missile system. Kotz hand-picked his 44-man platoon and believed he got the best the Marines had to offer. He was ready to go to war, but the Corps wasn’t ready to send him overseas.

Kotz volunteered for duty in Vietnam 12 times and was turned down time and again.

The Corps finally agreed to send him to Vietnam if he agreed to extend his enlistment from three years to four.

He did, and promptly went to Okinawa, where he joined the Air Control Squadron. He was flown to Vietnam a few days each month to become familiar with the country and the operational setup.

In early 1968, Kotz finally reported to Danang, Vietnam, as Operations Officer of the 1st LAAMB, Light Anti Air Missile Battalion.

The huge U.S. base at Danang was a prime enemy target and under constant attack.

The base was surrounded by four hills, called Monkey Mountain, Hai Van Pass, Hill 327 and Hill Seven.

Each hilltop was home to a missile battery under Kotz’ command. Each battery consisted of four missile launchers capable of firing three missiles each, plus a radar operation and control center.

Kotz’ assignment also included providing ground defense for his missile batteries. He soon learned a few tricks about how to extend his life expectancy.

Kotz and three Marines were traveling by Jeep to Hai Van Pass one day before sunrise.

When they reached a bridge an American guard stopped them.

That was expected. But the guard called Kotz “sir,” which was a surprise, since officers did not wear insignia.

Kotz asked the guard how he knew he was an officer. The guard said it was because Kotz sat so erect in the Jeep. He said an officer committing the same error had been shot by enemy troops not long before.

“I learned how to slouch in a hurry,” Kotz said.

On another occasion Kotz’s group was ambushed. Kotz said the firefight only lasted “about five minutes” but he fought between two sergeants firing automatic weapons. The noise

Bob Kotz at Danang in 1969.

Bob Kotz prepares to fire a Red Eye missile during training in California.

Coweta’s Bob Kotz commanded the four missile batteries that protected the huge U.S. base at Danang during his tour in Marine Corps Captain Bob Kotz Vietnam. in uniform.

See DANANG, page 17

October 2011 • Vietnam Veterans Memorial Moving Wall Edition • 17

VETERANS

Marines come ashore at Danang in March 1965

DANANG Continued from page 16 was so bad Kotz lost his hearing completely for three days and suffered some permanent hearing loss.

“The doctors asked if I had bought any expensive stereo equipment while I was in Okinawa,” Kotz said. “I told them I had and they said I would never hear the real high pitches.”

Before dawn one day Kotz got an emergency call from Hill 327 saying the missile battery was under attack. He told a sergeant to get all the Marine infantrymen out of bed and into formation.

In minutes 100 Marines had been assembled. Many of them had been partying all night and others were dead tired from extended field operations, but when Kotz said he needed 44 volunteers to defend Hill 327, all 100 Marines volunteered.

“I told my sergeant to pick the 44 in the best shape and send them out,” Kotz said.

“They went up that hill and came across 20 enemy attackers. They killed six and no Americans were killed, but what I will always remember is the fact that when there was trouble, every last one of those Marines volunteered to go fight.”

Kotz was also at Danang when Vietcong guerrillas blew up the fuel dump. The huge blast — more than a mile away — sent out such a massive concussion wave that it knocked Kotz 30 feet through the air into the radar control center.

“A guy in there asked, ‘Did you do that on purpose?’” Kotz said. “We had a good laugh.”

Kotz was discharged in 1969, promptly earned his MBA at Rutgers University and had a long career in the franchising industry. He has lived in Coweta County since 1979 and currently serves as an adjunct professor of management at West Georgia Technical College’s LaGrange campus.

“I’ll always be a Marine and I couldn’t be prouder,” Kotz said.

“I believed in what we were doing to stop the advancement of Communism and I’m proud of the job we did.”

Coweta’s Mike Corbitt was so intent on joining the Marines he ran away from home to do it. Corbitt was born and raised in South Fulton County, Ga., and attended Campbell High. He was ready to join the Marines before he was ready to graduate.

Corbitt’s mother didn’t want her 17-year-old son joining up, but the Marines had no such qualms. Corbitt snuck out of his room at 5:30 one morning, jumped in a car driven by a Marine recruiter and was already signed up by the time his mother ran him down at the induction center in Atlanta.

“We were lined up and ready to leave and I saw my mama come through the door,” Corbitt said. “She didn’t like it but I told her if she stopped me I’d just run off again and go somewhere else, so she finally agreed to it. I joined the Marines because I wanted to, not because I had to. I wanted to go to Vietnam. I was afraid I was gonna miss it. After I got there it was a different story.”

Corbitt’s cousin taught him map reading and compass skills when he was a boy. Those skills put him ahead of most other recruits. After basic and advanced infantry training, Corbitt moved up in the ranks

quickly.

“I had an advantage over the others,” Corbitt said. “But I was still just a 140-pound kid. I had lots to learn.”

Corbitt arrived in Vietnam in April 1969, and joined the 2nd Battalion of the 4th Marine Regiment at Quang Tri. Corbitt’s unit spent weeks at a time in the jungle, finding shelter where they could and living off the land, eating snake, dog or even monkey when Marine Corps rations ran out.

“The Marines kept us supplied with plenty of ammo but not always with food and water,” Corbitt said.

“Whenever a chopper lowered a net full of rations, we’d dump the cans in our packs, fill up 11 canteens with water and keep moving.”

Corbitt said the South Vietnamese children loved to gather fish the Marines “caught” with hand grenades.

“We’d drop a grenade in a river and those dead fish would come up and the kids really got excited,” Corbitt said “It was fun to watch.”

The South Vietnamese even showed Corbitt how to eat grasshoppers cooked on a hot rock beside a fire. “It wasn’t bad,” Corbitt said. “Kind of like fried okra.”

Corbitt’s unit ran countless search and destroy missions against small villages. He said it didn’t take long to figure out the villagers weren’t usually the bad guys.

“We’d go through and find plenty of weapons or food or medical supplies and we knew they didn’t have it for themselves,” Corbitt said. “We knew

Coweta’s Mike Corbitt after completing Marine Corps basic training at Parris Island, S.C.

that the villagers were told if they didn’t store those supplies to help the Vietcong their families would be killed. What were they supposed to do?”

Corbitt’s unit rarely went a day without encountering the enemy, usually NVA (North Vietnamese Army) regulars.

Corbitt fought in countless small skirmishes and in major battles at Signal Hill, Dong Ha, Cam Lo, Mudder’s Ridge and Hills 881 and 661.

Corbitt said you could tell when a major encounter was about to happen.

“Before they charged they sent people out that acted kind of like cheerleaders,” Corbitt said. “They’d scream ‘Kill the Americans’ or ‘Americans will die.’”

The charges always came before daylight, but were never a surprise. “They smoked a lot of dope before they attacked,” Corbitt said. “Even before they hit the perimeter you could smell them coming.”

Corbitt quickly advanced through the ranks and became

a squad leader. He is still haunted by some of the vicious battles, including two brutal incidents of hand-to-hand combat, one in which he fought with a machete, another where his weapon was a military KBar knife.

Details of those fights are too graphic to describe here but Corbitt said that no matter the fight or the circumstances, his main concern was the welfare of his squad.

“You’re supposed to be a tough guy,” Corbitt said. “But sometimes it just scared the hell out of me. But my main goal was always taking care of my men. I was a good squad leader and if one of my guys got hurt it almost killed me. I couldn’t stand it.”

This sandbagged hut was one of the nicer places Mike Corbitt lived while in the field in Vietnam.

On several occasions Corbitt served as platoon sergeant when the post was temporarily vacant. He left the Marines with the rank of sergeant.

During one mission Corbitt’s squad was being flown to a hot landing zone aboard a CH-46 helicopter. When they arrived, fire was heavy and the incoming helicopter was a prime target. Corbitt heard a loud “thunk” then heard bells and whistles going off and realized the chopper had been hit and was going down.

The next thing he remembers is being on the ground and looking over at the helicopter, piled in a crumpled heap several feet away.

“I had been knocked out of the helicopter and fell 25 or 30 feet to the ground before it crashed,” Corbitt said. “I couldn’t get up. I felt like I was para- After the battle of Mudder’s Ridge, Coweta’s Mike Corbitt (seated, second from right) takes a break lyzed. Then I finally got up and with fellow Marines. got my men together and we moved out.”

Three days later, when the squad took a break, Corbitt sat down to rest and couldn’t get back up. He was medevac’d to a military hospital at Yakusa Naval Base in Japan.

Doctors said Corbitt’s spine had been injured when he fell from the helicopter. Corbitt was kept in traction for two weeks and then told surgery was necessary to repair the damage to his neck and upper spine. He refused, and three days later, was back with his unit.

Corbitt said after North Vietnam’s leader Ho Chi Minh died in September 1969 the volume and intensity of enemy raids increased.

“Sometimes they acted like they were crazy,” he said.

“They’d come at you shooting in the air or in the ground or shooting at each other and shooting at you. It was impossible to tell what they were going to do. I was lucky to get out.”

Corbitt was discharged in Mike Corbitt takes a break in a Vietnamese rice paddy in 1969.

1970 and returned to Atlanta but had trouble adjusting to civilian life and tried to rejoin marry my wife.” the Marines. By then, the Corbitt went to technical Corps was cutting back on per- college and had careers in the sonnel and refused Corbitt’s HVAC and automotive indusrequest. tries before opening Corbitt’s There was only one bright Collision Center in 1981. He spot in his life. In high school, moved to Coweta 16 years ago.

Corbitt had been in love with a Corbitt was aware public girl three years younger. She sentiment was against the war was not allowed to date him while he served and said he while they were in school, but was treated rudely by citizens she corresponded with Corbitt in California and Georgia while he was in Vietnam. when he came home. But he When Corbitt got home, said by then, it really didn’t Deborah Cantrell had graduat- matter. ed from high school and had a “We knew people were job. The two finally started dat- unhappy back here,” Corbitt ing. It worked out so well that said. “But we didn’t think this December, Mike and about it while we were over Deborah Corbitt will celebrate there. We were too busy doing their 41st wedding anniversary. what we had to do to stay “The second best thing I ever alive. I wouldn’t give anything Marine Corps Vietnam vet Mike Corbitt drives State Senator Mitch did in my life was join the for being a Marine and I’m Seabaugh, R-Sharpsburg, during a parade in Grantville.

Marine Corps,” Corbitt said. proud of what I did over “The best thing I did was there.”

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Coweta’s Bob Kotz, left, and a fellow Marine relax in Danang.

Mike Corbitt at a tent in Quang Tri, Vietnam. Corbitt spend most of his time in the field.

404-787-5045 Jim Hiestand, USN Retired

Thank You to All Military, Past and Present!

18 • Vietnam Veterans Memorial Moving Wall Edition • October 2011

VETERANS

From Tet in 1968 until the Vietnam War ended

By ALEX McRAE alex@newnan.com The Tet Offensive — named for the Vietnamese New Year — was a major push by the North Vietnamese Army against United States and South Vietnamese forces that began in January 1968 and lasted for months.

When the final body count was tallied, U.S. officials declared a victory, but the televised slaughter fueled an enormous public outcry in the U.S. and marked the beginning of a rapid decline in whatever support remained for sending more U.S. troops to die in Vietnam.

In the wake of the Tet Offensive student protests against the war drew tens of thousands. U.S. military and political leaders were abandoned by even their staunchest supporters in the media.

Antiwar Democratic candidates promising to end the carnage even registered to run against President Lyndon Johnson in the 1968 election. In March 1968, realizing that he had lost public support, public confidence and the war, Johnson stunned the nation by announcing he would not run for re-election.

And in 1968, the war wasn’t the only problem occupying the American people. The Civil Rights Act of 1964 was law, but racial tensions across the country still ran high. In April 1968, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated at a Memphis motel the day after speaking in support of striking black Memphis sanitation workers.

Two months later, in June 1968, Robert F. Kennedy, in the midst of his presidential campaign, was gunned down in a Los Angeles hotel kitchen minutes after celebrating his victory in the California presidential primary.

In August, the Democratic Party Convention in Chicago was not dominated by politics but violence as tens of thousands of anti-war demonstrators fought in the streets with Chicago Police and the Illinois National Guard.

Richard Nixon smashed Democrat Hubert Humphrey the 1968 presidential election, promising to bring “Peace with honor” in Vietnam.

As far as Americans were concerned he couldn’t bring it fast enough. In 1968 alone, 16,592 Americans died in the deadliest year of the war.

Peace talks had quietly begun in late 1968 but would not end for five more years. In April 1969, peace talks began openly in Paris as U.S. troops continued to pour into Vietnam. That same month, U.S. troops reached a record level of 543,400. By then, 33,641 Americans had died in Vietnam, more than were killed in combat during the entire Korean War. In June 1969 Nixon announced a policy of “Vietnamization,” designed to turn control of the fight over to South Vietnamese forces. He also announced the withdrawal of 25,000 U.S. troops.

It wasn’t enough. Months later, a peace rally in Washington, D.C., drew an estimated 250,000.

Nixon decreased troop levels while the Paris peace talks sputtered on and off.

On July 1, 1971, 6,100 U.S. troops left Vietnam in a single day, a record for departures.

But the fighting continued, as Coweta’s Randy Sewell learned when he arrived later that month.

Sewell was born and raised in Moreland and attended Newnan High School, graduating in 1964. He attended Georgia Tech and graduated in 1969. Sewell knew he was likely to be drafted but felt a special kinship with friends and fellow students who had gone to Vietnam. He decided to join the military and enlisted to become an Air Force officer.

“I wanted to take away the uncertainty about the draft,” Sewell said. “But I also felt it was something I should do. I never regretted it.”

During officer training at Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio, Sewell was approached about flight training. He had not considered it before, but once he flew for the first time, was hooked.

“I loved it,” he said. “It’s hard to explain how it gets into your

Randy Sewell in Thailand in his flight suit.

Randy Sewell late in his 20-year career in the Air Force.

Randy Sewell with his OV-10 aircraft.

Randy Sewell in the cockpit of his OV-10.

system.”

After earning his wings, Sewell was assigned to fly an OV-10 as a Forward Air Controller, or FAC. Sewell’s mission was searching for enemy troops and supplies, directing attack aircraft to the fighting and spotting enemy targets as the battle progressed.

Sewell arrived in Vietnam in late July 1971 and was based at Pleiku in Vietnam’s Central Highlands. He said the living conditions were not exactly first class for the 20 American pilots in his unit who were assigned to Pleiku but were not officially attached to any U.S. or South Vietnamese unit.

By the time Sewell arrived, the huge U.S. base at Pleiku had been abandoned by U.S. forces and turned over to the South Vietnamese military. Sewell said one of the first things the new tenants did was rip out the sinks, lavatories and showers and sell them on the local black market for cold, hard cash.

“Those people were so poor they would do anything for a few dollars,” Sewell said. “We understood why they did it.”

Sewell’s unit hauled buckets of water to flush the toilets.

Running water was available to a small shower facility, but only for an hour or two each day.

The food wasn’t much better.

Sewell said he ate “a lot of small chickens” and vast quantities of peanut M&Ms sent by loved ones back in the States.

While at Pleiku, Sewell mainly flew missions over Cambodia and said there was little excitement.

“It was a pretty low-threat area,” he said. “I found a few things and called in some attack planes a few times, but it wasn’t too exciting.”

Things were different at the base. It was not uncommon for enemy troops to fire rockets at the Pleiku facility. One day, it happened at a most inopportune time.

Sewell had finished his daily flight and gone back to his quarters. He realized the water was on and decided to take a quick shower.

Sewell had just gotten wet when the base was hit with a barrage of enemy rockets.

Sewell knew the drill.

“When all the alarms and warnings went off, I just laid down in the shower and waited for it to end,” he said. He didn’t realize he would soon have a very unexpected guest.

The American pilots at Pleiku had adopted a scruffy white dog they called Willie Pete, the nickname for the phosphorous (WP) grenades OV-10 pilots dropped to mark targets. Seconds after Sewell hit the floor, Willie Pete raced into the shower looking for help.

“He jumped down there and huddled up next to me, and he was shaking all over,” Sewell said. “And he really smelled like a wet dog. It was bad. But I understood. He didn’t want to get hit by one of those rockets, either.”

After a month at Pleiku, Sewell was transferred to Nakhon Phanom, a Royal Thai Air Force Base in Thailand the Americans referred to as NKP. The living conditions at NKP were luxurious compared to Pleiku, with plenty of food, air conditioned quarters and even a bar the pilots frequented called the Nail Hole.

But the mission threat level was vastly different. At NKP Sewell found himself under attack almost daily. Most of his 230 combat missions were flown out of NKP, and Sewell said he always expected to be fired upon.

“They never went after us big time, because they didn’t want to give their position away,” Sewell said. “But they were always taking pot shots at us.”

Sewell’s primary mission was interdiction, searching for enemy troops and supplies along the Ho Chi Minh Trail, a vast network of roads and trails running from mountain passes in North Vietnam through Laos into South Vietnam.

Reports from FACs based in Danang indicated vast quantities of supplies and personnel were moving down the trail as North Vietnamese troops poured into South Vietnam while U.S troops withdrew.

But because the North Vietnamese knew how to hide under the thick jungle canopy, spotting them ranged from difficult to impossible.

“I’d go out flying day after day and not see anything and it got frustrating,” Sewell said.

Then one day Sewell realized there was a way to find the enemy. Most of the Ho Chi Minh Trail was shrouded by thick jungle cover, but enemy

Randy Sewell

Jack Shaw

troops had to cross a river that ran east and west across the trail. Sewell figured if he could find the river crossing, he could find the enemy troops.

One day he decided to fly the river from one end of his sector to the other. Sure enough, he found a huge ford constructed across the river by North Vietnamese troops. Sewell reported his find and directed the initial air attacks on his discovery before he ran low on fuel and returned to base.

The route was promptly scouted and huge amounts of weapons supplies were discovered along with areas called

“truck parks,” where enemy troops hid their vehicles until they knew they could travel without being observed from above.

“That was a big find for us,” Sewell said. “It really put a dent in the enemy’s plans.”

Sewell’s aircraft was never hit by enemy fire, but he still had some close calls. The worst nail-biter came while he was on the ground.

Sewell was at Danang on Temporary Duty (TDY) and was on the runway waiting to fly a mission when he saw an Air Force truck whose driver was lost or confused drive out

into an active runway and directly into the path of a South Vietnamese A-37 aircraft that was on its takeoff run.

Sewell watched in horror as the A-37 hit the truck, ripping a wing off the A-37 and sending the truck up in a huge fireball.

Worse, when the A-37’s wing came off, its bomb load spilled and Sewell watched as two bombs “came skipping and twirling and spinning right toward me.”

Sewell watched in amazement as the two bombs passed beneath his aircraft without hitting a thing.

“That was close,” Sewell said.

“But the main thing I was worried about was the pilot of the A-37.” The pilot was rescued by ground crews and survived.

The occupants of the truck burned to death.

After his tour in Vietnam, Sewell decided to make a career of the Air Force and stayed in the service until 1989.

He came back to Georgia and soon began working in computer technology and support for Carroll County Schools.

Twelve years ago he took a similar position with Heard County Schools. Sewell and his wife, Linda, have called Coweta County home for 20 years.

Sewell said as the war was

See WAR’S END, page 19

Jack Shaw, right, prepares for his last flight in Thailand on February 17, 1973. Though attached to the U.S. Embassy, Shaw flew a plane without military markings and wore civilian clothes and did not wear his dog tags

about the

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October 2011 • Vietnam Veterans Memorial Moving Wall Edition • 19

VETERANS

From Tet Offensive in 1968 until the end was set to fly in a circle pattern,” Shaw said. “It hadn’t gone down yet and it was comContinued from page 18 ing in a big circle straight for me. I thought, ‘what a way to die… run over by my own airwinding down he heard many plane.’” comments from military perThe plane missed Shaw but sonnel about their disillusioncame close enough that he ment with the way the war was could read the safety warnings being fought, but he didn’t stenciled on the fuselage. After always agree. two more passes, each farther “I understood why some away, the OV-10 finally crashed. people said that,” he said. “But I When Shaw issued the origithought that as long as there nal “Mayday!” call to indicate were American troops on the he was going down, a U.S. ground my job was to protect Marine serving as a military them, and if the enemy troops advisor heard and understood. and weapons I was looking for The Marine watched as the were going to kill Americans it burning OV-10 flew overhead, was my job to find those trucks then saw the chutes as Shaw and kill as many of them as I and Twaddell ejected. could.”

The Marine knew four South Coweta’s Jack Shaw arrived Vietnamese helicopters were at NKP in March 1972. Like headed toward the battle and Sewell, Shaw flew OV-10s as a directed them to pick up FAC. But Shaw took a different Twaddell on the beach and path to the Air Force.

Shaw where his parachute had Shaw was a military brat, gone down near the besieged born in South Korea while his village. Both pilots were resfather was stationed there. By cued. the time he hit junior high, Shaw and Twaddell were Shaw’s family lived in Tampa. flown back to Danang. They Shaw graduated from had both been at a huge baseHillsborough Hill School and wide celebration at NKP honafter a year at the University of oring the return of a pilot who South Florida, was admitted to had been shot down and resthe Air Force Academy. cued. They were expecting the “I loved it,” Shaw said. “All I’d same treatment. But at Danang, ever wanted to do was fly and all they got were a few strange fight and that got me started.” looks, an invitation to dinner Shaw graduated in June 1970 and orders to spend the night and after flight training at at the hospital.

Hurlburt Field in Fort Walton, “We were pretty bummed Fla., was assigned to fly OV-10s out,” Shaw said. “We expected as a FAC. a big deal.”

He went to battle in March Shaw and Twaddell finally 1972, flying out of NKP in returned to NKP hoping they’d Thailand as a member of the be honored guests at a party 23rd Tactical Air Support like the one they’d seen earlier.

Squadron. Shaw said when he “We knew they knew how to arrived at NKP, the U.S. was do it up right at NKP,” Shaw losing OV-10s at the rate of said. “We were expecting a about one every 10 days. good time.”

“It didn’t take me long to Instead, they were greeted by realize if I stayed there long three jeeps and Shaw was told to report to the squadron commander in 30 minutes.

Shaw went over expecting to be congratulated on coming back alive. Instead, the commander admonished Shaw for losing an aircraft and grounded him for a week.

“It was really hard,” Shaw said. “But that week off did me good because it gave me time to think about how lucky I was to even come back alive. After that, my whole attitude changed and I was grateful for every day I stayed alive.”

As that commander was leaving for another posting, he took Shaw aside and told him the grounding was for Shaw’s own good and that he fully expected Shaw to become a top FAC. “I was on cloud 9 after that,” Jack Shaw’s hat identifies him Shaw said. as a member of the 23rd Tactical In the fall of 1972, Shaw’s Air Support Squadron. roommate and close friend, Hal Mischler, accepted a new assignment as a FAC assigned to the U.S. Embassy in enough, I’d be shot down,” Vientiane, Laos. In December Shaw said. “Sure enough, I did.

1972, Shaw followed.

Twice.”

At the time, Thailand was Shaw flew regular combat not officially allowed to host missions, spotting enemy any U.S. uniformed troops, troops or supplies and calling except for embassy guards. But in air strikes. He said the proceU.S. troops were there, working dure for FACs who spotted in a clandestine capacity. enemy targets was to drop a While attached to the Willie Pete phosphorous embassy in Vientiane, Shaw grenade to mark the target with still flew as a FAC, but smoke while calling in an air strangers would not have recstrike and then directing the ognized him as a member of action from the air. the U.S. military.

Shaw said as soon as friendly He flew a small, singlepilots appeared Shaw would engine plane without U.S. milask the incoming pilot, “See my itary markings, grew his hair smoke?” If they said yes, Shaw long, dressed in civilian replied, “Hit my smoke.” clothes and never wore his “It was our way of telling dog tags. them that we found the target “It was the undercover world,” Shaw said. “That was my introduction into the spook world where nobody really exists officially.”

The f ighting, even in an “unofficial” capacity, remained heavy. On Dec. 23, 1972, it couldn’t have been worse.

Shaw was flying a check ride with Lew Hatch, a classmate from the Air Force Academy, when they got a call that an OV-10 piloted by Shaw’s roommate Hal Mischler had gone down.

They headed for the spot as fast as possible. The fighting was heavy and they were flying low. Shaw remembers hearing what he thought were engine backf ires outside his open widow. He later learned they were enemy bullets whipping past the plane.

He saw the spot where his roommate’s plane had gone down, but was too busy directing f ire to give it much thought. He was also busy just trying to keep the plane in the air as the engine stalled repeatedly.

The engine f inally lost power. Shaw put the plane down at a small abandoned airstrip near the firebase that was under attack. An Air Jack Shaw and his OV-10 at the air base in Nakhon Phanom, America helicopter headed for the firebase to pick up dead Thailand. and wounded was ordered to

WAR’S END

and they ought to able to find it, too,” Shaw said. “It was just a little dig at the fighter pilots.”

Shaw and other FACs in the squadron were often rotated to the base at Danang when extra FACs were needed during heavy fighting.

On his second temporary deployment to Danang, Shaw was walking into his quarters when he ran into an Air Force buddy named Jim Twaddell, who was headed out to fly a mission in his OV-10.

Twaddell asked Shaw if he wanted to tag along. Since Shaw was wearing his flight suit and had nothing else to do, he dumped his bags and headed to the flight line with Twaddell.

In early April 1972, the North Vietnamese had launched a massive attack on South Vietnam that came to be called the Easter Invasion. The fighting was still heavy when Shaw and Twaddell took off on May 25, 1972.

After finding a North Vietnamese amphibious tank in a river and calling in an air strike that sunk the vehicle, Shaw and Twaddell got a call saying “TIC” for “troops in contact.” The aviators’ number one priority was responding to rescue and support a downed pilot.

“We dropped everything and headed out to do whatever we had to do save one of our flyers,” Shaw said. “That was always top priority.”

The number two priority was a TIC call and as soon as they heard it, Twaddell and Shaw headed for the action.

They reached the battle site and watched as South Vietnamese troops in a village beneath them were shelled by enemy tanks hidden in the jungle.

The South Vietnamese troops could not send ground troops to find the tanks and so Shaw and Twaddell kept flying over the scene, trying unsuccessfully to locate them.

During the mission, Shaw looked out and saw what he thought was a 37 mm artillery tracer headed for the plane. He didn’t worry until he saw the tracer change course to follow his plane. That’s when Shaw realized he had actually been attacked by an SA-7, a shoulderfired heat-seeking missile that was bad news for American flyers.

Shaw was at the controls and pulled back on the stick to dodge the missile. Shaw’s maneuver kept the missile from hitting the plane’s exhaust, but the SA-7 smashed into the fuselage right behind Shaw, starting a fire in the rear cargo area.

Shaw had been drilled over and over about what to do when a fire started aboard his aircraft. When the flames started licking over his seat and threatened to melt his parachute, he ejected. Less than a second later, Twaddell joined him.

The two floated down a half mile apart, with Twaddell drifting toward the relative safety of the ocean while Shaw drifted back over the battle zone.

Soon, Shaw heard the sound of an aircraft and thought, “Hey, this is great, my buddies are coming to get me.”

They weren’t.

Shaw looked around was stunned to see the OV-10 he had just ejected from heading straight for him.

“When we ejected that plane

The hand written note spells it out. Jack Shaw returning from his last combat mission the day the U.S. combat role in Thailand ended.

Jack Shaw, right, at Danang with an Air Force Academy classmate who joined the Army after graduating from the Air Force Academy and fought on the ground in Vietnam.

pick up Shaw and Hatch.

Shaw and Hatch boarded the chopper just seconds before it was overrun by enemy troops, then stayed aboard as the chopper stopped to pick up dead and wounded at the firebase and headed for home.

The dead troops in the chopper were covered with ponchos, but blood still leaked from their wounds, pooling on the chopper and sloshing back and forth before spilling out the door.

“I kept watching that blood,” Shaw said. “I remember seeing it run toward the side near the door and blow out into the slipstream over Laos.

At the end of the flight, Shaw watched as the bodies were unloaded. Military personnel came by and pulled up the ponchos covering the dead. When they came to one body, they looked under the poncho and then laid an American flag over the remains, marking the dead man as an American.

Shaw was confused and asked Hatch, “Who is that? You think it’s an American advisor?”

Hatch knew better. While Shaw had been busy directing traffic during the battle, Hatch had watched as ground troops went to Mischler’s downed plane and recovered his body.

Hatch told Shaw, “Jack, that’s your roommate Hal. He was killed.”

“I could’t even move,” Shaw said. “I saw him go down, but I figured he was all right, and we’d get together that night for a beer. I had no idea he had

been killed. Tears started streaming down my face, and I just stood there and cried until the plane that took him away was out of sight. The next time I saw him was six months later at his grave in Kansas.”

Shaw remained in Laos for several more months, flying routine missions as the war wound down. The peace agreement ending the war was signed in Paris on Jan. 27, 1973.

On Feb. 17, 1973, all U.S. combat activity in Laos was scheduled to cease at noon.

Shaw said the North Vietnamese knew the timetable for Laos and planned major attacks to begin as soon as the Americans parked their planes and quit providing air support for South Vietnamese troops.

Shaw flew his last mission on the morning of Feb. 17, 1973. He remembered getting a call from a South Vietnamese ground commander who was under attack, but since it was almost noon, Shaw’s ground controller ordered him to leave the area and fly back to base.

“It was awful,” Shaw said. “I felt terrible having to leave that fight. I was saying to myself I was here to help those guys on the ground and now I’ve just abandoned them. I felt totally worthless.”

After Vietnam, Shaw remained in the Air Force, retiring in 1990 with 20 years of service. He flew for Delta for the next 17 years before retiring and has called Coweta home for 10 years.

“I have some mixed feelings about the war now,” he said.

“But not about my role. I was a warrior. I didn’t want to wake up years later and not know what it was like to be in combat. But in the end, my job was to get everybody else home safely and my roommate came home in a box. That one still hurts, but that’s the kind of thing you can’t control that happens in war.”

In 1973, America left the fight in Vietnam and cut financial support for the South Vietnamese military as the battle for control of the country raged on. In December 1974 North Vietnamese leaders met in Hanoi to create a final plan for victory. In March 1975 the final North Vietnamese offensive began.

On April 23, 1975, as 100,000 North Vietnamese soldiers advanced on the South Vietnamese capital of Saigon, President Gerald Ford said during a speech at Tulane University that Vietnam was “a war that is finished as far as America is concerned.”

One week later, April 30, 1975, the last 10 American Marines departed the U.S. Embassy in Saigon as North Vietnamese troops poured into the city.

At 11 a.m. local time, the red and blue Viet Cong flag flew from the presidential palace in Saigon and South Vietnamese president Minh announced South Vietnam’s unconditional surrender.

The war was finally over, at a cost of over 58,000 American lives.

20 • Vietnam Veterans Memorial Moving Wall Edition • October 2011

VETERANS

Cowetan among those who fought for Vietnam Wall

By ALEX McRAE alex@newnan.com From Oct. 20-23, the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Moving Wall will be on display at the Coweta County Fairgrounds.

This traveling memorial, called “The Wall That Heals,” is a half-size replica of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial that was dedicated on Nov. 13, 1982, in Washington, D.C. The permanent memorial in D.C. is inscribed with the names of 58,272 military personnel who died in the Vietnam theater of war or subsequently died of wounds received in Vietnam.

Included are 23 men listed as having Coweta County as their official “Home of Record,” or who are shown in the History of Coweta County as having Coweta roots, including those buried in Coweta County.

Names listed on the Vietnam Veterans Memorial include 155 Medal of Honor recipients, 677 medics, 17 chaplains and ministers, 30 sets of brothers and three sets of fathers and sons who died in the same war.

The Wall That Heals gives visitors who have never seen the permanent memorial in Washington a sense of the solemn dignity conveyed in what is now the most heavilyvisited memorial in our nation’s capital.

It is hard to believe that the Vietnam Veterans Memorial was once as divisive as it is now revered. No one is more familiar with the bitter battle over the memorial than Coweta’s Hank Berkowitz, who fought to get the memorial built almost 30 years ago and is still fighting to support the veterans whose memory it honors.

Berkowitz was born and raised in Arcata, Calif. After graduating from Arcata High School in 1967 he attended Humboldt State College for a quarter then joined the U.S. Marine Corps.

“I wasn’t ready for college,” Berkowitz said. “I wanted to get out of my comfort zone and try something new.”

After basic and advanced infantry training, Berkowitz went to the Defense Information School at Fort Benjamin Harrison, Ind., and trained as a military journalist.

Instead of taking a desk job, Berkowitz volunteered for duty in Vietnam, and in December 1968, he joined the Marines in Vietnam as a combat photojournalist.

Berkowitz followed units in the field, documenting the action as he dodged bullets and tried to stay alive.

“I didn’t want to be behind the lines,” he said. “I wanted to be out in the field where the fighting was. Sanity is not part of my upbringing.”

Berkowitz recalled one mission when he and a seven-man Marine reconnaissance team were flown 15 miles behind enemy lines in a helicopter and told to spend seven days in the field searching for enemy troops.

“We pretty much took on anything and everything we came across,” Berkowitz said.

Hank Berkowitz

During one engagement, when his unit was clearly outnumbered, the Marines couldn’t wait to fight and Berkowitz remembers thinking, “You’re 15 miles out there in the middle of nowhere. Who’s gonna come get you if there’s trouble?”

Berkowitz was also in a pitched battle in the fall of 1969 at a Marine camp near Liberty Bridge, 30 miles south of Danang.

“Their recon units — they were called sappers — were as good as ours,” Berkowitz said.

“They knew where we were.

Before they attacked, they would do some drugs and tie cords around their limbs to stop the expected bleeding. They were pretty much putting on tourniquets in advance because they expected to get shot.”

The enemy attacked Liberty Bridge with satchel charges, flame throwers and small-arms fire.

“That was the first time we’d seen them use flame throwers,” Berkowitz said. “It was gruesome. We lit them up and fought all night long. The next morning we dug a crater and buried 74 of them. We had eight Marines killed and 24 wounded.

One Marine was killed by a flame thrower before he could get out of his bunk.”

On another occasion Berkowitz was awakened early one morning and told to grab his camera and go to a nearby village whose people were considered friendly to Americans.

Enemy troops had just attacked the village with flame throwers and satchel charges, killing 130 civilians, including women and children, to make an example of what could happen to residents of a so-called “safe village.”

“Basically, they fried 130 people,” Berkowitz said. “The smell was so bad that when we got there the first thing I did was stop and puke my guts out on the side of the road. Then I started taking pictures. Some were so gruesome they had to be censored.”

After a 12-month tour, Berkowitz came home briefly, then volunteered to go back.

“I felt guilty leaving all my brothers behind over there,” he said.

After six more months incountry, Berkowitz left Vietnam

Hank Berkowitz on patrol with a Marine Corps unit in the so-called “Arizona Territory,” located several miles south of Danang, Vietnam.

on June 30, 1970. Following a brief stint with the Marine Corps’ “Leatherneck” magazine, Berkowitz was discharged and returned to Humboldt State College, where he fought to see that Vietnam veterans received the benefits and care they deserved.

“The situation was terrible all over the country for vets coming back from that war,” Berkowitz said. “Nobody was doing anything for them, and I wanted to change that. It was a struggle. Nobody with the VA or campus veterans services liked to see me coming. I didn’t make any friends, but I didn’t care. I was determined to make somebody give my brothers what they had earned.”

In 1975, Berkowitz finished college and took a position with the Veterans Administration regional office in Washington, D.C. He continued to push for improved veteran services and care.

“It was like trying to turn around a battleship,” he said. “I spent years there trying to get the VA moving and working to get veterans programs passed

by Congress. Sometimes we felt like all our efforts were wasted.

But we didn’t quit.”

Berkowitz also became active with the Disabled American Veterans, American Legion and VFW. As part of his VA duties, Berkowitz served as Spring Games Director for the D.C. Special Olympics program, at the time run by Executive Director Annie Joe Denney, a Coweta County native.

Berkowitz often brought disabled veterans to the Special Olympics events. “It helped them take their mind off their own problems,” he said.

Berkowitz soon grew as fond of the Special Olympics’ executive director as he was of the event. It was mutual and he and Annie Joe were married on June 5, 1983, at the closing ceremonies of that spring’s D.C. Special Olympics games.

During his time in D.C. Berkowitz met Jan Scruggs while attending a presentation

by Scruggs about a proposed memorial honoring veterans of the Vietnam War. At the time, Scruggs was lobbying Congress to donate a small parcel of land on the National Mall for the memorial.

Berkowitz loved the idea, joined Scruggs’ group and worked with the committee for fundraising and organizing.

As support for the memorial slowly grew, Congress reluctantly donated land for the memorial. The non-profit Vietnam Veterans Memorial Fund began raising private funds to design and construct the memorial.

The first order of business was choosing a design. The winning plan — submitted by 21-year-old Yale architecture student Maya Lin — was almost as controversial as the war.

Immediately after Lin was chosen to design the monument, complaints arose from the public, financial donors and even some Vietnam veterans who didn’t want Lin involved because she was of Chinese descent. Lin’s unconventional design was also widely criticized.

Instead of a standard memorial featuring statues of heroic people doing heroic deeds, Lin’s design featured a pair of black stone walls set into the earth, rising from a height of less than one foot to more than 10 feet at the center where the walls intersect at an angle.

The walls are inscribed with the names of the war dead, listed by date of death, and are fronted by a wide walkway allowing visitors to walk by, stop and view names or pause for a moment of reflection or prayer.

Berkowitz and his friends loved the design.

“It was exactly what we had wanted,” he said. “We specifically said we didn’t want a statue or anything that looked like other memorials. We wanted something very personal and contemplative in nature and, above all, it had to include the names of all the dead. We thought Maya Lin’s design was brilliant.”

Others disagreed. The proposed design was called a “pit of shame” by opponents in Congress and even some Vietnam veterans. Opposition to the design stalled construction and heightened frustrations among Berkowitz and the committee.

“I thought, you didn’t care how in the hell we died in that war, but now you want to tell us what kind of memorial we can have?” Berkowitz said.

“That wasn’t going to happen.

Photo by Hank Berkowitz

This scene shows part of the crowd present at dedication ceremonies for the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington D.C. on November 13, 1982.

We thought it was fantastic seeing our brothers’ names up there. It was like a living tribute to them. This country may not have cared, but we were in love with that wall. We still are. It’s our heart and soul.”

The design was finally approved, but Berkowitz was furious when 200 members of Congress who had opposed the memorial showed up to participate in the groundbreaking.

“They had fought us tooth and nail, and now they wanted to show up and look like they supported us just to get their pictures in the paper,” he said.

“I wanted to take a shovel and cover them up.”

Construction finally began and the monument was set to be dedicated on Nov. 13, 1982.

Berkowitz was asked to choose 35 Vietnam veterans to act as escorts and guides for opening day ceremonies.

Four days before the memorial opened, Berkowitz and a large group of volunteers gathered at the National Cathedral and read aloud each of the 57,600 names then inscribed on The Wall. More than 600 names have since been added.

The day The Wall opened to the public, more than 16,000 visited, but the wounds from the fight to build the memorial were still so fresh that Maya Lin’s name was not mentioned once during official dedication ceremonies, Berkowitz said.

Lin later said she felt like a Vietnam veteran, too, because she had suffered the same kind of treatment from opponents of the memorial as soldiers had from those who opposed the war.

Once visitors saw and understood the raw emotional power of The Wall, it quickly became the capital’s most popular memorial.

In 1984, a statue of three soldiers was added to soothe detractors who had lobbied for a more conventional design element. A statue honoring women who served in Vietnam was added to the site in 1993.

Berkowitz has been back to visit countless times. On the 25th anniversary of the memorial’s dedication, Nov. 13, 2007, Berkowitz once again joined a group of volunteers who read the names of all who are honored on The Wall.

Although Berkowitz still harbors resentment over the way Vietnam veterans were treated by the military bureaucracy and their fellow citizens, he has no reservations about the memorial that celebrates the service of those who fought and died in Vietnam.

“We think it’s spectacular,” Berkowitz said. “The special stone they used allows us to see the reflection of our brothers inside that wall.”

Berkowitz eventually left the VA and became an entrepreneur in D.C. before moving to Coweta County in 1996 to continue his business career.

Berkowitz is glad “The Wall That Heals” is coming to Coweta County, even though the scale model cannot convey the impact of the permanent memorial in Washington.

“We fully support this wall visit and any and all efforts to help Vietnam vets and all vets,” Berkowitz said.

Berkowitz said he is also glad to see Vietnam vets coming out of the shadows to accept recognition for their past service and sacrifice.

“They see how vets coming back from Afghanistan and Iraq are welcomed with open arms and they want to be a part of that,” Berkowitz said. “It’s something they never had. I’m glad to see them get the recognition they deserve. I’ll fight for

Hank Berkowitz, left, and a Marine Corps buddy at An Hoa, Vietnam.

Hank Berkowitz at the U.S. Marine Corps base in Danang.

them forever.”

Berkowitz is now active with the Coweta County Cancer Support Group as well as the VFW, American Legion, Disabled American Veterans and the Marine Corps League.

He holds clinics every three months to help veterans apply for medical assistance or deal with other benefit-related problems. Two months ago he held a clinic for female vets

who struggle with problems unique to women in the military.

Others are planned.

Berkowitz also serves on the committee of the Coweta Commission on Veterans Affairs responsible for bringing “The Wall That Heals” to Coweta.

“I’ll always be in love with that wall,” he said. “It’s the ghost that haunts me.”

October 2011 • Vietnam Veterans Memorial Moving Wall Edition • 21

VETERANS

NEWNAN HIGH SCHOOL

Students share their class essays on ‘The Wall That Heals’

By ALEX McRAE alex@newnan.com Steve Quesinberry, chairman of the Social Studies Department at Newnan High School, teaches a class devoted exclusively to the Vietnam War. Quesinberry’s tireless efforts researching subject matter, preparing lessons and bringing in veterans to speak of their wartime experiences has produced a group of scholars who are arguably more knowledgeable about the Vietnam War than any of their peers across the nation.

Each year, Quesinberry asks his students to write essays about a particular aspect of the war. Last year, several students submitted essays about the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.

As Coweta awaits the Oct. 20-23 visit of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Traveling Wall, “The Wall That Heals,” it is fitting to share some of those student essays with readers.

These were written by members of the NHS class of 2011.

By Ellen Rayburn The Vietnam Memorial in Washington, D.C., commonly referred to as “The Wall,” was designed by a college student named Maya Lin. Her design was chosen through a contest and was selected because of its unique design. Unfortunately, Maya and her design created a lot of controversy when it had to be approved before it was built.

M aya , although b o r n American, is of Asian descent.

Today [in 2011] that would be Rayburn an irrelevant fact, but when The Wall was being built, there was a lot of racism and anger built up against Asians. The United States had fought Japan in World War II, North Korea in the Korean War, and now they had just come out of a long, unpopular war against North Vietnam.

There was a lot of resentment toward Asians and many people did not want the memorial designed by one.

As if these issues with her heritage were not enough, Maya’s design was just as controversial, if not more so. She described it as a “rift in the earth.” They described it as a Pit of Shame. There would be two granite walls with the names of every soldier who had died in Vietnam, from first to last killed. Many of those in Washington wanted a grand statue commemorating all of the brave things that soldiers did when they were fighting overseas. But the veterans wanted to commemorate their fallen brothers. Instead of a shiny gold statue, The Wall would be black, the color of mourning. It would be reflective, like a mirror, so that all who look at it can see themselves and think that it could have been their name on that wall. It could have been anybody. The veterans loved it.

In the end, a compromise was agreed upon. The Wall was built and so were several statues that are placed nearby.

Maya Lin’s ground-breaking design has now become known as the “Wall that Heals.” People can travel to D.C. and find the name of their loved one who never came home or their buddy from boot camp or their best friend from combat.

Memorials are not really for the dead. They are in name, but their real purpose is to serve the living that are left behind. It gives them somewhere to put their pain and sorrow of not having someone in their lives anymore. When people come and find the name of that person, it touches something

inside them. They can leave behind something for that young man, a flag, a teddy bear, or maybe a letter. But most importantly, they can leave the pain. No one will ever know exactly why Maya’s wall is so powerful in this way. It mends broken hearts, and reminds us today of the truly great sacrifice that those men made in a country far away. ***

By Mackenzie Crisp Memorials come in many forms, such as landmark objects, sculptures, statues, fountains, or even entire parks.

They serve to commemorate a memory of something, usually a person, an event, or a war.

The Vietnam Memorial is dedicated in remembrance of the Vietnam War, to those who served, to the families who were left at home, to the American public who watched the war from their living rooms, and to the brave soldiers who were not fortunate enough to return home.

The Vietnam Memorial sits in Constitution Gardens in Washington, D.C. It is adjacent to the National Mall, northeast of the Lincoln Memorial, with the Korean War Memorial to the left. The Wall was officially completed in 1982, with additions made in 1993 and 2007.

The design for The Wall became a national contest and a young architect was chosen, Maya Lin. Her plans for the memorial sparked controversy over her being of Asian decent and over the fact that the memorial would not be a traditional limestone monument, like the rest in Washington, D.C. These controversies were overcome, however in the “Great Compromise,” with the agreement that Maya Lin would incorporate a traditional statue along with her original plan.

The Memorial Wall is made up of two long walls of gabbro rock imported from India.

They stretch 246.9 feet. The walls are sunk into the ground, with the earth covering up the backs of them.

They start off small, f r o m opposing directions, gaining height as they come Crisp together in the middle. At the apex, the wall reaches 10.1 feet high.

The Wall is comprised of 72 panels, each etched with 70 names, totaling 58,267 names of the men killed in action or missing in action. The names of eight women who were killed during the conflict are also etched onto the wall. The names are in chronological order of when the person died, beginning on Nov. 1, 1955, and ending on May 15, 1975.

The two statues that solved the “Great Compromise” are located a short distance away from The Wall. The first statue is made of bronze and is called The Three Soldiers and was unveiled in 1984. It depicts three unidentifiable soldiers, one white, one African American, and one hispanic.

The soldiers seem to be looking to The Wall, in tribute to their fallen comrades. The second addition to the memorial is the Women’s Memorial. It is located near The Three Soldiers and was dedicated to the women of the United States who served in the Vietnam War, most of whom were nurses. The Women’s Memorial was added in 1993.

Today, more than three million visitors, from both around the world and those that reside in the country, visit the Vietnam Memorial. It is voted one of the top memorials year after year. Veterans come to pay their respects to fallen comrades and to try and heal

40-year-old wounds. Families of the lost soldiers come and leave letters for their loved ones, hoping to find solace from The Wall. Everyday people come, some young, some old; most of these people were not affected by Vietnam directly, but they come to see what The Wall is all about. All who visit find that it leaves a lasting impression, one that is hard to erase.

So, what makes this memorial so different from others?

Why is it the most visited memorial year, after year? How does a wall, full of names, heal a nation full of grief over past mistakes? How does it remind America of a war that should never be forgotten and of the veterans who fought and died for the cause? And how does it teach generations to come that war is devastating and that the past is the most important aspect of the future?

Those questions are hard to answer and many will have their own opinion, but to me it is the reflective quality of the stone that The Wall is made of that evokes such an impression upon people. Visitors come and gaze onto The Wall. At first they see the thousands of names etched into it, but soon, the names fade and all that is left is a reflection of themselves. This is so powerful. It shows that those names on the wall can be anyone’s names.

After seeing a reflection of yourself, you’re in the soldiers’ boots and you think — it could have been me… it still can be me. They see themselves within The Wall and The Wall will not let them forget the thousands of soldiers who died, while their country abandoned them. This is what The Wall is all about, this is why The Wall is so ominous, yet people cannot stay away. The Wall is a symbol of war is. It is a daily reminder to the nation, that war does not come without consequences, and that any decision which risks the lives of thousands is one that should not be made lightly. ***

By Katie Davis The Wall is the Vietnam Memorial in Washington, D.C. It is the most memorable and visited memorial in Washington, D.C., today. Why is this? It is because of its uniqueness. The Wall is not your classic statue of an American soldier holding a U.S. flag. Instead, the Vietnam Memorial is made of two black granite walls. They are reflective so that visitors can see their reflections in The Wall.

On The Wall are over 58,000 names. These are the names of the American’s who died in the Vietnam War. The names are in chronological order of death.

The designer of this incredibly revolutionary and influential memorial is a woman named Maya Lin. Her design won the contest for the design of the Vietnam Memorial.

There was much controversy over both Maya Lin and her Davis design. As evidenced by her name, Maya Lin is of Asian decent. She is, of course, a legal U.S. citizen and was actually born in America, but many people were not happy with her designing the memorial for the men who died fighting a war in Asia against Asians. She believes that The Wall “conveys the sense of overwhelming numbers, while unifying these individuals into a whole.” To some people a wall of names instead of a statue as the memorial for the Vietnam War seemed odd and even disrespectful to the men and women who had died in the war.

The “Great

Compromise” settled this controversy. The Wall would be built, but in addition to it, there would be a statue of three soldiers. This agreement satisfied most of the wall supporters and the statue supporters.

The Wall is memorable because it is unlike any other war memorial. The reflective granite walls seem to touch people in a way statues cannot.

I have been to The Wall and experienced its wonder for myself. Seeing my reflection mixed with the names of the men and women who died to protect my freedom was incredibly powerful. The names became more than just names. I was able to imagine the life that the name in front of me might have lived. How would the world be different today if even one name was erased from the list? To people who know the person behind the name on The Wall, The Wall can be a healing experience. It is common for people to leave things by The Wall for their loved one who never made it home. Just touching the name can bring up the emotions and memories that were buried along with that man or woman. The Wall is truly a memorial that can connect the people of today to the people who died in this war. ***

By Kayla Cooper The Vietnam Memorial in Washington, D.C., was designed by a woman named Maya Lin. Before The Wall was built, people were trying to decide what the Vietnam Memorial should look like, and when her design was offered it was very controversial. The reason behind that was because most war memorials at that time were statues that represented certain people or certain groups, and when her design, which was just a wall with sold i e r s names on it, came up Cooper a lot of people were frustrated with the idea of something completely different.

The main problem that people had with her design was that it wasn’t a traditional memorial. Most of the people believed that it should be like ones that they had already had such as a statue. Another problem that came up was that she was of Asian decent, which at that time was a very big issue in the states; a lot of people were against her idea just because of her race. Eventually there was a compromise between everyone, both The Wall and a statue were built in honor of The Vietnam War. It is also known as “The Great Compromise.” I believe this design turned out to be so memorial because it was completely different from all the other memorials and it really demonstrated what was lost during that war. By having a black cut-stone masonry wall with all the names of the fallen soldiers, people can see for themselves how many people were sacrificed and are able to honor and remember each and every soldier that lost their lives for their country. This memorial is able to touch so many people because, unlike other memorials, if you knew someone who had passed away during the war, you were able to find them on that wall and you got the option to trace his/ her name on a sheet of paper so you could take a little piece of them with you. Also, when you are looking at The Wall you are able to see your reflection on The Wall, which allows some people to consider that it could have been them on that wall.

In many ways this memorial changes peoples’ lives and by

being able to do that, this memorial is more than a success, it is a wonderful gift in honor of The Vietnam War. ***

By Drew Traylor The Vietnam Memorial was designed by Yale student Maya Lin in a contest. This choice was controversial because Lin is of Chinese descent and veterans and other figures were not happy that a descendant of Southeast Asia won the contest. There was also controversy over the design itself. Those in favor of a more traditional war memorial wanted some sort of statue while the modernists were in favor of Lin’s revolutionary name design.

Eventually, the “Great Compromise” was reached and a threeman statue was erected near The Wall.

I believe that this d e s i g n turned out to be so memorable because it was so Traylor unlike any other memorial at that time.

Never before had the names of the dead been in one place side-by-side. Lin designed The Wall so that all those who looked at it would see themselves in the reflection, reminding them that they could have been a name on that wall. I believe that the Vietnam Memorial is such a touching experience because it personalizes the deaths of the soldiers through the use of names. The Wall allows for visitors to fully grasp the scope of the war, for a person can see just what 58,000 dead looks like. Prior to visiting the monument, I did not fully understand just how many people died in the war.

But once I was there, I was overwhelmed by the lines and lines of names. ***

By Elizabeth Rand The Vietnam Memorial, commonly known as “The Wall,” is the most visited memorial in Washington, D.C. This wall stands to honor all those who bravely served our country in Vietnam without the support or praise from Americans at home. Although it is little compensation for the terrible treatment of returning troops, The Wall is the most memorable and uniquely designed monument in Washington.

Part of the prominence of the Vietnam Memorial is derived from its construction. The Wall was designed in a contest won by a young girl, Maya Lin. This would not have been a problem if Maya were not of Chinese descent. The idea of an Asian w o m a n designing this memorial bothered many veterans.

H o w e v e r, once the design was revealed, the decision was Rand clear, and construction on Washington’s most innovative memorial began.

The memorial is essentially walls sunken into the ground with earth rising up behind them, creating a secluded atmosphere. The Wall lists 58,000-plus troops killed in the war in chronological order of death. At the time, this structure was very unconventional and modern. Many veterans did not want to accept this new style memorial to honor their service. Consequently, a sculpture of three Vietnam soldiers was built next to The Wall to appease those against The

Wall. This became known as “The Great Compromise.”

Thirty years later, The Wall still serves as a strong reminder of the soldiers who laid down their lives for the country they loved. Many features have been added since, such as the Vietnam Women’s Memorial and the Traveling Wall, but none compare to the greatness of The Wall itself. Not only does it remind people of the sacrifice those brave soldiers made for all Americans, The Wall also breaks the mold by starting the trend of listing names, turning it into a more personal and touching memorial. For this reason, the Vietnam Memorial is one of the most known and imitated monuments. It is impossible to visit The Wall and not feel an overwhelming sense of respect and grief for the names listed.

Those brave men and their service will forever be remembered by America through a simple tribute 58,000 names long. ***

By Jazzmine Vann As you walk down the path with your fingers gently gliding across each name that is inscribed into the black granite wall, you begin to overflow with all types of emotions; pride for those who fought for the freedoms that we enjoy today, pain for the lives that were lost, and hope that a war of this magnitude never happens again. Who would have thought forty to fifty odd years ago that the Vietnam War Memorial would be one of the most influential and most visited memorials in present time?

T h i s memorial has been a great way to provide peace for Vann the families of the deceased soldiers, but also a way for the United States as a whole to pay our final respects to the soldiers who we once neglected and despised.

Since its completion in 1982, the Vietnam War Memorial has become the most popular memorial in the United States.

Over three million people visit The Wall each year. The wall’s popularity highly revolves around the design. Having the names or each and every man and woman who served during the Vietnam War is a constant reminder of the chaos that the veterans went through. As of June of 2010, there are 58,275 names of men and women on The Wall. All these people risked their lives for freedoms that we enjoy and even take for granted to this day. People from all walks of life have come to visit the wall to pay their respects to the fallen soldiers and nurses, even people who were once against the war. This brilliantly-designed wall has been a very therapeutic way to grieve for those whom we once would spit on and call baby-killers. This wall has helped heal the broken hearts of mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, wives, children, families and friends. This wall has been our shoulder to lean on when we shed tears for all 58,275 men and women.

Unlike most memorials, we will always be able to see the destruction of war whenever we visit the Vietnam Memorial. There will be no need for a history book when it comes to the Vietnam War, only a short trip to the wall.

The story is written in the names written on The Wall.

Never again will they be neglected or criticized, only loved and praised for all that they have done, and continue to do.

22 • Vietnam Veterans Memorial Moving Wall Edition • October 2011

VETERANS

Visit of ‘The Wall That Heals’ has special meaning

By ALEX McRAE alex@newnan.com From Oct. 20-23, the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Traveling Wall, better known as “The Wall That Heals,” will be on display 24 hours a day at the Coweta County Fairgrounds.

The Wall and associated exhibits will be seen by thousands of Coweta citizens and many others expected to come from neighboring counties and neighboring states.

Visitors will include veterans who served in Vietnam and America’s other wars, including the Cold War. The Wall will also be viewed by friends and family members of veterans, both living and dead. Others who have no personal connection with The Wall or a particular veteran, will stop by just to remember the sacrifices our veterans past and present make for their fellow citizens.

Each person who visits will come away with a unique memory or perspective about The Wall, what it represents and what it can teach us. In concluding a special 14-week series on the Vietnam War, The Newnan Times-Herald asked the three individuals who are closely associated with veterans programs and the Vietnam War experience to share in their own words what The Wall means to them and why it matters. *** Dick Stender has lived in Newnan since 1987. He is a local leader in veterans programs and has served as commander of the local American Legion and VFW Posts. Stender was one of the leaders of the effort to create, fund and construct the Veterans Memorial Plaza in the Newnan city park at Jackson Street and Temple Avenue.

‘A Wall of Memories’

By Dick Stender In July of 1969, I was a brand new warrant officer, leaving a wife and four sons, all 5 or under, for Vietnam.

I wanted to go to there, and finally, after numerous requests, I was on my way.

Fourteen years of service would, to me, be incomplete without a combat tour.

Each week I would read the casualty lists in the Army Times and frequently would find the name of someone who had given his life, someone who had once been a small part of my life.

My time in Vietnam was largely spent in some logistical endeavors. Like everyone, I knew the terror of a 122 mm rocket, sapper incursions and an ambush or two, but the toe-totoe daily grind of kill or be killed was Stender not to be experienced.

When I rotated home in 1970, I landed in California and then was to fly out from the San Francisco Airport to my new base in El Paso. As part of a group of my fellow returnees, I got off the bus at the airport, where a group of demonstrators assailed us with ugly words and gestures and several threw trash and spit at us. An Army major in our group began to weep, muttering over and over, “Why is this happening?”

Returning home, I again began the list watching, feeling guilty for surviving when so many young soldiers were dying. There seemed to be more names of old comrades during the next few years, and my anxiety and guilt caused me to stop talking about the war, to stop remembering, even to my family. My disgust for the anti-war faction and the Jane Fondas of this country often caused the loss of friends, most of whom had never served in uniform.

In 1982, I was a CW4, at the top of the ladder and was assigned as an instructor at the Engineer School at Ft. Belvoir, just outside Washington. I knew that the Vietnam Wall was under construction, a memorial to the dead and an apology to we who had served there. In the late fall of 1983, Ft. Belvoir was asked to form a unit of Vietnam veterans to march in the dedication parade, and my name was on the list.

I reported to my commander and told him that I would not be attending. He asked why,

and I explained about my feeling of guilt and also my anger at my country for what I felt was disloyalty to the sacrifice of so many who went and served its policies and purposes in Vietnam. He immediately had his clerk prepare a written order and had it signed by the commanding general, directing me to march in the parade.

On the morning of the parade, our caravan of buses departed for Washington. I was told to sit in the bus with the general and most of his staff. At the parade marshaling area, we formed into a 270-man unit. It was the usual “tallest in the front row” formation. As we heard the strains of the U.S. Army Band and prepared to step off, the general tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Chief, you’re carrying the Corps of Engineers flag,” as he handed it to me.

So there I was, the only one who did not want to be there, marching out in front and carrying the Essayons Engineer flag.

We marched the route, lined with thousands and thousands of people cheering and holding up signs that said “Thank You For Serving” and “We Are Sorry For Blaming You.” I was astounded and surprised that so many of them knew how so many of us felt. I passed the flag to a young sergeant and joined the ranks till we reached the Memorial Wall.

There were speeches and ceremonies, after which we were excused to view the wall up close.

I was reluctant to approach the engraved names, but my commander grabbed my arm and led me down the panels. I found the names of Dick Whitehead, Bruce Yates and Morton Townes, and as I touched Mort’s name I began to cry and sob. I felt many arms around me and looked to see the general and my commander among them. I apologized for breaking down and the general looked me in the eye and said, “Chief, that’s the reason this wall is here. It will heal you.”

By God, he was right. I was healed by that visit, by the show of support of those along the parade and by the love shown by my fellow soldiers.

I still have the pin they gave out that day. It is a replica of the Vietnam Service Medal, with the inscription: “Marching Along Together Again.”

I have visited the wall several times since and each time I was brought to tears; tears of pure sorrow, free of guilt and anger.

I anticipate I will cry again, when “The Healing Wall” comes to Newnan, but the tears won’t be for Dick Stender, they will be for those names on the wall and for my comrades, still waiting to be healed.

In the spirit of the general’s words to me, “That’s why we brought the wall to Coweta.” *** Steve Quesinberry is chairman of the Social Studies Department at Newnan High School. He teaches a class about the Vietnam War and knows how important it is to keep telling the story of that grim chapter of American history and to constantly remind students that even unpopular wars produce heroes and that the American military’s devotion to duty, honor and country is not dimmed or diminished by political reaction or public opinion back home.

Quesinberry has been recognized by numerous local veteran organizations for bringing veterans into Newnan High School to help teach his students. To celebrate the visit of The Wall That Heals,” Quesinberry wrote the following.

‘Thoughts on Traveling Wall’

By Steve Quesinberry John Stuart Mill, British philosopher and Member of Parliament, once said that “the world consists largely of weak men made and kept free by better men than themselves.”

As you study the history of the world, this statement seems more and more inspired.

People tend to see history as linear, yet there are numerous places where history could have been sidetracked and led into different outcomes that do not include a United States as a beacon of freedom.

The battle at Tours, the defeat of the Spanish Armada, the rout of Napoleon’s Imperial Guard at Waterloo, the confrontation at Yorktown, the desperate struggle at Midway Island or the decision to invade

the Norman coastline on June 6, 1944. In all of these battles that lead to or preserve the American way of life, you can see the “better men” that Mill refers to. They should not be forgotten.

We see this same phenomenon at the Vietnam Memorial, whether we go to it or it comes to us. This month’s visit of “The Wall That Heals” is important to the students and the people of this community — not because of what the wall is made of, the fact that it reflects its surroundings or even its dimensions.

It is important because it allows us to see and remember those “better men” that Mill references.

Look carefully at the photographs of these men included in the stories produced by The Newnan Times-Herald prior to the visit of The Wall and in the special insert that will be available while The Wall is on display from Oct. 20-23.

Coweta County produced “better men” then, and I believe still does today. On no account should we forget.

This week is also significant to those that did not die but frequently came home to a hostile or a merely apathetic populace. Col. Hal Moore, commander of the 1st Battalion, 7 t h C a v a l r y, once stated, “Hate war, but love the American Warrior.”

Quesinberry These “better men” served and often took the brunt of the war’s unpopularity. Politicians sent our young men to war — we must never forget.

This event is imperative for our students as it helps bring them face to face with the past — whether you stare at the names that seem to go on endlessly or you shake the hand of a veteran that did return safely.

At Newnan High School, we attempt to bring our students into contact with history itself through these veterans and their stories. Our Student-Vet Connect program forces students to literally reach back into the past and make a connection with these “better men.”

This is the way history should be — touched, not forgotten.

In a town that remembers and commemorates its history like Newnan, the war in Vietnam does seem largely forgotten. It does not connect with local people today, perhaps because of the dramatic growth over the last two decades or just that people have tried to put the ugliness of this period behind them.

Yet Coweta County is very much represented in this era, with two Medal of Honor recipients, 23 killed in action and more than 500 men and women in Coweta County that served. We cannot forget.

When you visit the traveling wall during its stop in Coweta, look closely and see the best that America had. Look around for one of those “better men” that are volunteering. Shake their hand and tell them “thank you.” We should always remember. *** David Jessel served in the U.S. Navy from 1961 to 1982 and retired with the rank of Lt. Commander. Since moving to Newnan in 1989, he has been active with the American Legion, the VFW and the Marquis de Lafayette Chapter of the Sons of the American Revolution. He is a Deacon Emeritus at First Baptist Church of Newnan. Jessel submitted these thoughts on his service and the visit of “The Wall That Heals.”

communists without our financial aid.

This conversation occurred in Rach Gia, Kien Giang Province, where I was the Fourth Coastal Zone Intelligence Officer (4CZIO).

The 4CZIO Cadre amounted to 10 officers, two enlisted intelligence clerks and two interpreters.

We served as Naval Intelligence Liaison Officers and ran overt and covert intelligence operations. My area of operations included the two western provinces of the Delta and the adjacent waters.

This was probably the most hostile area in South Vietnam and an enemy stronghold for many years, particularly the U Minh Forest. With the intelligence generated by my NILOs, a large number of successful operations were conducted.

Once the 21st ARVN commenced operations into the U Minh Forest, the enemy lost control of the area.

From 1970-1971 the outcome of the Vietnam War clearly turned. Both our government and the government of South Vietnam could have “declared victory” at any time, but they did not!

Throughout South Vietnam the enemy had lost its capability to launch a major operation and was reduced to minor “terrorist type” operations.

We had more real-time intelligence than we had operational assets available to respond to the intelligence and to neutralize these targets. I requested assistance from Saigon and received one officer, two Chief Petty Offices, and one E-6. They were assigned to me for about three weeks, and through extensive debriefings, received significant operational intelligence.

A number of successful SEAL operations resulted from this intelligence, including the busting of a POW camp where three American had been held.

The Americans had already been moved to another location, but a large number of South Vietnamese were repatriated and the enemy guards were killed.

I explained all this success to my interpreter and tried to

As I reflected on my Vietnam experiences prior to writing this paper, I realized just how many names were on the Vietnam Veterans Memorial that I had some knowledge of or had been involved with their families.

In 1964 while I was attending Navy Post Graduate School in Monterey, Ca., my next door neighbor was a combat medic who already had three Vietnam tours. Several years later, his Danish wife told us that he had been killed in action on his fifth or sixth tour.

Another neighbor, a sergeant with a young German wife and two small children, deployed to ‘Nam and I heard from his wife that his outpost had been overrun and that he had been shot in the head.

Also, the top graduate from a one-year Vietnamese language course was an Army captain and he got a nice write-up in the local newspaper. About three weeks later the same paper ran a story with a picture of him receiving the award and reported that he had been killed in action his first day in country.

When I was on the Admiral’s staff in New York City, I was the director of the Casualty Assistance Calls program and, as such, I was responsible for directing Naval officers from various commands to visit and notify next of kin that their father or brother or husband had been killed in action.

The Casualty Assistant Calls officer then assisted the family with burial arrangements and with the settlement of the estate. There may be up to a hundred of their names on The Wall.

While serving on the USS Belknap off the coast of North Vietnam for about six months in 1967-1968, I spoke to aircraft pilots eight hours a day. Some of these pilots ended up as POWs for years and some have their names engraved on The Wall. On a positive note, the search-and-rescue helicopters launched from my ship

assure him that my country had lost far too many lives and had far too much of an investment in South Vietnam to ever desert them.

I have made many mistakes in my life, but this may have been one of the biggest, because a few years later, Congress drastically cut the financial aid to the South Vietnamese government and its war effort.

It was like hoisting a large red flag that said “Come on Down - North Vietnam!” South Vietnam was invaded and conquered a few years later. I consider every member of the United States Senate and the House that voted to virtually stop financial aid to the South Vietnamese government to be a traitor, if not to the USA at least to “ T h e Cause.”

My guess is that only a very Jessel small percentage of Americans know that South Vietnam fell because our Congress cut off funding.

Most Vietnam veterans interviewed in stories published in The Newnan Times-Herald have indicated that even knowing the final outcome, they were glad they served and that they would do it again. I don’t know if I would.

Why were we there in the first place, if we were going to cut and run? Because my father (Navy Seabee) died July 5, 1945, I was both draft exempt and combat exempt. I enlisted to attend OCS right out of college and I volunteered for Vietnam duty a couple of times.

I had no use for protesters then, and I have no use for them now. The media was a major problem during the war, but so was the silence of the VFW and the American Legion. Both these fine organizations have since admitted their mistake in not speaking up in support of our troops.

They have vowed that will never happen again!

See MEANING, page 23

Our thoughts are with the brave men and women serving our country and the ones who served before them.

Art Holbrook

Minesh Amin

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By David Jessel In mid-September 1971, two weeks before I was scheduled to return to the world [from Vietnam], I had a serious conversation with my interpreter, an ARVN (Army Republic of Vietnam) Sergeant.

He was far more than a “mouthpiece.” He was like having another officer on my staff.

In his performance evaluation, I recommended him for Officer Candidate School. His voiced concern was that once the Americans left Vietnam, our government would shut off funding to the government of South Vietnam and that South Vietnam could not fight the

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October 2011 • Vietnam Veterans Memorial Moving Wall Edition • 23

VETERANS

23 Cowetans’ names listed on Vietnam Memorial Wall

By ALEX McRAE alex@newnan.com Ironically, the nation’s most unpopular war inspired the most heavilyvisited monument in Washington, D.C. — perhaps because the Vietnam Veterans Memorial is the only war monument to list the names of all those killed in the war.

As of August 2011, the Vietnam Veterans Memorial was inscribed with the names of 58,272 American military personnel.

According to information from Vietnam Veterans Memorial, names inscribed on the wall came from a list of combat zone casualties according to criteria established in a 1965 Presidential Executive Order.

That executive order specified Vietnam, Laos, Cambodia and coastal areas as combat zones. If the Department of Defense, acting in accordance with these directives, considered an individual to be a Vietnam conflict fatality or to be missing, his/her name would be included.

In later years, other selected military personnel who did not actually die in Vietnam, Laos, Cambodia or coastal areas were allowed to be recognized on the memorial wall. This happened when the geographic criteria were enlarged to include people killed outside the war zone while on or in support of direct combat missions.

The new directive also allowed the inclusion of 15 servicemen who subsequently died of wounds received in Vietnam.

Of the 58,272 names on the memorial wall, 23 are listed as having Coweta County as their official “Home of Record,” or are listed in the History of Coweta County as having Coweta roots, including being buried in Coweta County.

These 23 Vietnam veterans who made the ultimate sacrifice for their nation will be honored at a special ceremony on Oct. 23 at 2 p.m. at the Coweta County Fairgrounds as part of the 2011 Veterans Muster, which is paying special tribute to Vietnam veterans. Names, ranks and dates of death are those listed on the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. Burial places — if known — are listed here.

■ Terry Allen Jr. Military home of record: Newnan.

Born, Jan. 5, 1948, died June 23, 1968.

Corporal, U.S. Army.

Buried in Eastgate Cemetery, Newnan.

Terry Allen Jr. is honored on Panel 55W, Row 20 of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.

■ Johnny C. Calhoun. Military home of record: Newnan. Born July 14, 1945, died March 27, 1968. Sergeant First Class, U.S. Army.

Johnny C. Calhoun is honored on Panel 46E, Row 45 of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.

■ Jessie Clifford Cofield. Military home of record: Newnan.

Born August 2, 1946, died Sept.

13, 1967.

Corporal, U.S. Army.

Buried in Oak Hill Cemetery, Newnan.

Jessie Clifford Cofield is honored on Panel 26E, Row 65 of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.

■ Timothy Cole Jr. Military home of record: Newnan.

Born Dec. 19, 1946, died Oct. 18, 1968.

Warrant officer, U.S. Army. Buried in Macedonia Baptist Church Cemetery, Newnan.

Timothy Cole Jr. is honored on Panel 41W, Row 72 of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.

■ Robert Edward Couch.

Military home of record: Senoia. Born July 22, 1949, died Dec. 30, 1968. Sergeant, U.S. Army. Buried Senoia City Cemetery.

Robert Edward Couch is honored on Panel 35W, Row 8 of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.

■ John Tillman Dozier II. Military home of record: Atlanta. Born March 24, 1951, died June 18, 1971. Staff Sergeant, U.S. Army.

John Tillman Dozier II is honored on Panel 3W, Row 80 of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.

■ Grady Lee Elder.

Military home of record: Grantville.

Born May 11, 1936, died June 11, 1966.

Sergeant, U.S. Army.

Grady Lee Elder is honored on Panel 8E, Row 36 of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.

Allen Jr.

Calhoun

Cofield

Cole Jr.

Couch

Dozier

■ Bobby Freeman.

Military home of record: Grantville.

Born November 20, 1945, died Aug. 12, 1968. Sergeant, U.S. Army. Buried in Grantville City Cemetery.

Bobby Freeman is honored on Panel 49W, Row 53 of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.

■ Arthur Hines.

Military home of record: Grantville.

Born May 24, 1941, died Feb. 10, 1968.

Private First Class, U.S. Army. Buried in Grantville City Cemetery.

Arthur Hines is honored on Panel 38E, Row 72 of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.

■ Thomas Pate Huddleston. Military home of record: Newnan. Born Sept.

4, 1946, died Nov. 19, 1967.

Specialist Fourth Class, U.S. Army. Buried in Oak Hill Cemetery.

Thomas Pate Huddleston is honored on Panel 30E, Row 27 of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.

■ Warner Prater Hughie. Military home of record: Newnan. Born Jan. 4, 1949, died March 12, 1970. Corporal, U.S. Army. Buried in Oak Hill Cemetery, Newnan.

Warner Prater Hughie is honored on Panel 13W, Row 118 of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.

■ James Clayton Kerr. Military home of record: Palmetto.

Born June 16, 1948, died Dec. 6, 1968.

Sergeant, U.S. Army.

James Clayton Kerr is honored on Panel 37W, Row 51 of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.

Elder

Freeman

Hines

Huddleston

Hughie

Kerr

■ Donald Steven Lowery. Military home of record: Newnan. Born July 29, 1947, died Feb. 15, 1967. Private First Class, U.S. Army.

Buried in Oak Hill Cemetery, Newnan.

Donald Steven Lowery is honored on Panel 15E, Row 33 of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.

■ William Henry Thomas Jr. Military home of record: Senoia. Born June 10, 1951, died March 25, 1970. Lance Corporal, U.S. Marine Corps.

William Henry Thomas Jr. is honored on Panel 12W, Row 44 of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.

Lowery

■ Larry Gunnell Pinson.

Military home of record: Grantville. Born Jan. 27, 1950, died Sept. 19, 1969. Lance Corporal, U.S. Marine Corps.

Larry Gunnell Pinson is honored on Panel 18W, Row 114 of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.

■ Wayne Jackson Vessell. Military home of record: Senoia. Born May 6, 1944, died July 14, 1968. Private First Class, U.S. Marine Corps. Buried at Pleasant Hill Baptist Church.

Wayne Jackson Vessell is honored on Panel 52W, Row 32 of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.

Pinson

■ Daniel Zachary Post Jr. Military home of record.

Brownsville, Tx. Born Jan. 16, 1943, died July 31, 1966. Corporal, U.S. Marine Corps.

Buried in Oak Hill Cemetery, Newnan.

Daniel Zachary Post Jr. is honored on Panel 9E, Row 92 of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.

Watson

■ Robert Mitchell Webb Jr. Military home of record: Columbus. Born July 11, 1945, died Oct. 17, 1971.

First Lieutenant, U.S. Army. Buried in Oak Hill Cemetery.

Robert Mitchell Webb Jr. is honored on Panel 2W, Row 42 of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.

Smith

■ Leavy Carlton Solomon. Military home of record: Palmetto. Born Oct. 3, 1946, died Jan. 11, 1969.

Specialist Fourth Class, U.S. Army.

Leavy Carlton Solomon is honored on Panel 35W, Row 73 of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.

Walthall

■ Joseph Michael Watson. Military home of record: Moreland. Born Feb. 28, 1948, died Jan. 8, 1968.

Lance Corporal, U.S. Marine Corps.

Buried in Oak Hill Cemetery.

Joseph Michael Watson is honored on Panel 34E, Row 2 of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.

Pittman

■ Jerry Lynn Smith. Military home of record: Newnan.

Born Aug. 12, 1947, died Jan. 3, 1968.

Sergeant, U.S. Army.

Buried in Oak Hill Cemetery, Newnan.

Jerry Lynn Smith is honored on Panel 33E, Row 32 of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.

Vessell

■ Charles Edward Walthall. Military home of record: Palmetto. Born Feb. 10, 1948, died May 21, 1968. Private First Class, U.S. Army.

Charles Edward Walthall is honored on Panel 65E, Row 3 of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.

Post Jr.

■ Edgar Stevan Pittman. Military home of record: Newnan. Born Sept.

28, 1949, died June 23, 1969.

Specialist Fourth Class, U.S. Army. Buried in Southview Cemetery, Moreland.

Edgar Stevan Pittman is honored on Panel 21W, Row 1 of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.

Thomas Jr.

Webb Jr.

Solomon

The visit of ‘The Wall That Heals’ has special meaning to residents of Coweta MEANING Continued from page 22 recovered two downed pilots and the ship picked up another pilot.

On Thanksgiving Day 1970, eight or 10 Seabees from Binh They decided to come visit their buddies in Rach Gia. They were not prepared to travel through Kien Giang Province, even during the day.

All were executed on the spot by the Vietcong. Their names

appear on The Wall.

So does the name of Col. Richard Wright Ellison, who was killed in action on Feb. 16, 1971, along with one of his best sergeants. Col. Ellison had served in WWII and Korea and had several Vietnam tours.

He could not remember my rank (lieutenant commander), so he referred to me as his Navy major.

When Lester James Moe, USN, was killed on March 29, 1971, by a booby trap, I had to break the news to one of his closest friends in Saigon. Moe

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was on his sixth Vietnam tour with SEAL Team One. I was stationed in Washington, D.C., when construction started on The Wall and I retired on July 1, 1982, several months before the Vietnam Veterans Memorial was dedicated. I had no intentions of ever visiting The Wall.

I had many friends that encouraged me to visit the memorial, but I just was not interested.

I moved my family to Newnan in December 1989. I visited the D.C. area about

once a year, and sometimes twice, yet I never visited The Wall.

In 2006 my wife and I delivered several suitcases of supplies collected by the General Daniel Newnan Chapter of National Society Daughters of the American Revolution to Walter Reed Army Hospital for the wounded veterans.

After dropping off the supplies, my wife suggested we visit the World War II Memorial. After touring the beautiful WW II Memorial for a couple of hours, I suggested

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that we walk over to the Korea Memorial. I was moved by the Korea Memorial.

Out of the clear, I suggested we walk over to the Vietnam Wall. I don’t recall any special feelings as I walked the length of The Wall, but I also failed to search for any names. I saw a strange beauty in the simplicity of The Wall’s design and message. I also read the pain and hurt of some of the visitors to the memorial. Since that initial visit, I have visited The Wall several times and even looked up a few names.

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I also have visited at two of the Traveling Memorial Wall displays. At an opening ceremony several years ago I heard a U.S. Army Colonel make a powerful presentation. I told my wife that I wished every senator and congress person could be required to listen to it.

I don’t know how the visit of the memorial will impact those who come to the Coweta County Fairgrounds, but if just one next of kin or one Vietnam veteran gets some closure, then the costs and efforts are worth it.

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24 • Vietnam Veterans Memorial Moving Wall Edition • October 2011