Vietnam Veterans Edition

October 2011

Vietnam Veterans

Memorial Wall

Inside■ Our veterans, their stories,

pages 2-12, 16-20 ■ Threat of Communism drew

U.S. into Vietnam, page 3■ A salute to Coweta’s veterans,

page 13■ A thank-you to all who served,

page 15 ■ Visit of The Wall has special

meaning, page 22■ 23 Cowetans listed on Memorial,

page 23About top photo:

The crowd gathers at dedication ceremonies for the Vietnam VeteransMemorial in Washington, D.C., on November 13, 1982. Coweta Countyresident Hank Berkowitz was on the committee that organized, designedand built the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. Ever since Berkowitz returnedfrom a tour of duty with the U.S. Marine Corps in Vietnam, he has workedto improve programs and conditions for veterans.

From Oct. 20 through Oct.23, Coweta County will playhost to a very special visitor:The Vietnam MemorialMoving Wall.

The half-size replica of theVietnam Memorial Wall inWashington, D.C., contains thenames of all those lost duringthe Vietnam War, including 23from Coweta County.

The wall will be the mainattraction of the 2011 VeteransMuster, which will be held atthe Coweta CountyFairgrounds on Pine Roadsouth of Newnan off U.S. 29.

Congress recently declared2011 as the 50th anniversary of

the beginning of the VietnamWar. To recognize that occa-sion, the Coweta Commissionon Veterans Affairs, whichorganizes and operates theannual Veterans Muster, decid-ed to focus 2011’s event on theVietnam War.

To help commemorate thevisit of the Moving Wall, TheNewnan Times-Herald, over a14-week period starting July 10,has run a series of articles com-piled by staff writer AlexMcRae about the Vietnam Warand the Vietnam Memorial.The series and accompanyingmaterial about “The Wall ThatHeals” and the schedule of

events for the upcomingVeterans Muster is included intoday’s special section.

The series examines thecauses, the victories, thedefeats and the national unrestthat followed the war frombeginning to end. Each article

features comments and storiesabout the Vietnam experiencefrom current Coweta veteranswho served there.

This series is intended tohelp readers understand moreabout America’s most unpopu-lar war.

“We also hope it will enablereaders to realize how this warwas different from any other,mostly for the way those whofought it were treated by someof their fellow citizens,” McRaesaid.

Soldiers from America’sother wars came home to tick-er tape parades, victory ralliesand cheers from a gratefulnation. Many who returnedfrom Vietnam were spat upon,called “baby killers” and heldup as a symbol of all that waswrong with America. And allbecause they served theircountry with dignity andhonor.

In the 36 years since the lasttwo servicemen died inVietnam in 1975, America’sVietnam veterans have begunto win acceptance and are nowhonored at local and nationalevents honoring all veterans.But the scars from that long-ago war remain.

The Vietnam MemorialMoving Wall is called “TheWall That Heals” for a reason.

We hope events like the 2011Veterans Muster will help healthose who served their nationin Vietnam, and help all of usbetter understand why thewounds from that war are stillso painful and so deep.

Special edition compiles Vietnam series

By ALEX [email protected]

The week of Oct. 16-23, 2011,will be packed with activitiesrelated to the VietnamMemorial Moving Wall— “TheWall That Heals” — which willbe on display at the CowetaCounty Fairgrounds from Oct.20-23.

The following schedule ofevents was provided by theCoweta Commission onVeterans Affairs, which organ-ized and will oversee the visitof the memorial.

■ Sunday, Oct. 16, 3 p.m. A one-man Broadway show

titled “The Things TheyCarried.” This play is presentedby the American Place Theaterof New York and based on abook by Tim O’Brien.

Location: The Centre forPerforming and Visual Arts,1523 Lower Fayetteville Road,Newnan. The performanceruns approximately 90 minutes.

Vietnam veterans and theirimmediate families will beadmitted free. Other admissionprices are: $10 general admis-sion, $8 for seniors, $2 for stu-dents

■ Tuesday, Oct. 18, noon.Arrival of “The Wall That

Heals.” A caravan including atractor-trailer carrying TheWall will be escorted by a largecontingent of patriotic motor-cyclists along Bullsboro Drive,through downtown Newnan,and then to the Coweta CountyFairgrounds.

■ Tuesday, Oct. 18, 7 p.m.Showing of the film “In the

Shadow of the Blade” and apresentation about the role of

the “Huey” helicopter in theVietnam War. One of the movieparticipants, Donna Rowe,(Capt. U.S. Army ret.) willmake a personal presentation.Capt. Rowe served as HeadNurse, EmergencyRoom/Triage Area, 3rd FieldHospital, Saigon, Vietnam, dur-ing 1968-69.

Location: The Centre forPerforming and Visual Arts,1523 Lower Fayetteville Road,Newnan. Open and free to thepublic (Approx. 90 min.)

■ Wednesday, Oct. 19.Setup of The Wall and asso-

ciated exhibits at the CowetaCounty Fairgrounds by volun-teers.

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

Location: Coweta CountyFairgrounds, outside MainStage. Students from NewnanHigh School classes on WorldWar II and the Vietnam Warwill be present and theNewnan High chorus will per-form.

Open and free to the public.(Approx. 45 min.)

Following the Ceremony,The Wall will be officiallyopened to the public for dailyvisitation on a 24-hour basisthrough Sunday, Oct. 23 at 6p.m. A Huey and Chinook heli-copter will be present on staticdisplay.

Students from all threeCoweta County high schoolsvisit The Wall.

Note: On Thursday andFriday, Oct. 20 and 21, highschool, middle school and

‘The Wall ThatHeals’ schedule

of events

See EVENTS, page 2

JACKSON, Miss.— Special warfare combatant-craft crewmen assigned to Special Boat Team (SBT) 22 read names on the VietnamTraveling Memorial Wall.


No place in America showsmore support for its veteransthan Coweta County.

Local governments, civicclubs, community groups andveterans organizations, includ-ing the American Legion,Veterans of Foreign Wars,AMVETS (or AmericanVeterans) and Marine CorpsLeague, have always gone theextra mile to honor and sup-port local vets, not just onVeterans Day and MemorialDay, but year-round.

In the spring of 2010, Cowetaveterans Malcolm Jackson andJoe Brooks, Maj. Gen. U.S.Army (retired), formed anorganization called the CowetaCommission on VeteransAffairs, or CVA.

The group’s goal was simple.“Our mission has come to be

summed up in two words: pub-lic awareness,” Jackson said.

“We want to keep everyoneaware of the sacrifices of allour veterans, including theirfamilies, who stayed home totake care of business.”

With that goal in mind,Jackson and Brooks spread theword about their mission. TheCVA immediately received aproclamation of support fromthe Coweta County

Commission and Jackson wasdesignated as the commission’srepresentative on the CVA.

New members of the CVAcame on board. Jackson saidthat, from the start, the com-mittee made it clear it was notin competition with establishedveterans groups. In fact, localleaders of many of thosegroups are members of CVA.

“We are fortunate to have thefull support of all the veteransorganizations throughout thecounty and far beyond,”Jackson said.

Once the organization wasformed and the mission clari-fied, the group decided to hostan annual event honoring vet-erans. In October 2010, theCVA sponsored its f irstVeterans Muster.

The event included a cere-mony at the Veterans MemorialPlaza in the Newnan city parkat Jackson Street and TempleAvenue, plus a series of eventson the Court Square in down-

town Newnan, including a dis-play of military memorabilia bylocal vets and a book signingby three area veterans who hadwritten books recounting theirmilitary memories or experi-ences.

The first Muster was a majorsuccess. As soon as it was over,the CVA started planning forthe 2011 event, unofficiallycalled Muster II.

Since the U.S. Congress haddesignated 2011 as the 50thanniversary of the beginning ofthe Vietnam War it was decid-ed that Muster II would honorall veterans but focus on localVietnam vets, including the 23Cowetans who died fightingthe Vietnam War.

CVA member SteveQuesinberry is chairman of theSocial Studies Department atNewnan High School and hasfor years taught a class aboutthe Vietnam War. Quesinberry

Committee sparked project to bringVietnam Memorial Moving Wall

Photo courtesy Vietnam VeteransMemorial Foundation

See WALL, page 2

U.S. Navy photo by Chief Mass Communication Specialist Kathryn Whittenberger

2 • Vietnam Veterans Memorial Moving Wall Edition • October 2011

VETERANS

elementary school studentsattending the exhibit will havethe opportunity to attend theceremonies, visit The Walltraveling museum, view theHuey helicopter and theVietnam era displays, meet andtalk to Vietnam-era veteransand volunteers, and visit TheWall.

■ Thursday, Oct. 20 throughSaturday, Oct. 22, 8 p.m. Daily.Candlelight vigil ceremony at“The Wall That Heals.” Eachdaily candlelight ceremony willinclude an invocation led by aVietnam War-era chaplain andbagpipe music.

■ Friday, Oct. 21. Students from Coweta

County elementary and middleschools visit The Wall. Exhibitsremain open for all visitors.

■ Saturday, Oct. 22, 11 a.m.Muster Day II events begin,

including wreath-laying cere-mony at 11 a.m. at The Wall.Veterans will display militarymementos and memorabilia aspart of the Newnan HighStudent-Vet Connect program.Books about the Vietnam Warera written by local authorswill be signed.

Note: At each of the week’sevents, books about theVietnam War era written by

local authors will be availablefor sale and autographing at theCoweta County Fairgrounds.

■ Sun, Oct. 23, 2011, 2 p.m.Muster Day II Events:“The Wall That Heals” cere-

mony honoring and recogniz-ing the families of Cowetanswho died in Vietnam and theirfamilies.

Ceremony recognizing the132nd Helicopter Unit and 16thTransportation Detachment,both of which were officiallyadopted by the city of Newnanin 1968 just prior to deploy-ment to Vietnam.

Location: Coweta CountyFairgrounds, Main Ball Room.

■ Sun, Oct. 23, 5 p.m.“The Wall That Heals” —

Closing Ceremony.

Location: Wall exhibit at theCoweta County Fairgrounds.

The Wall will officially closeat 6 p.m.

Food vendors, including theNewnan Rotary Club and theCoweta Veterans Club, willstaff and prepare food that willbe sold at two booths at thefairgrounds complex. Severalchurches have volunteered tohelp feed the attendees, volun-teers, and participants at thevarious scheduled events.

■ With the exception of theperformance of “The ThingsThey Carried” on Sunday, Oct.16 at the Centre for Performingand Visual Arts, all activities,including The Wall exhibit atthe fairgrounds, will be free ofcharge to the public.

The entire week-long lineupof events will be paid for solelyby generous donations fromthe public and will be staffedby volunteers.

See the official CowetaCommission on VeteransAffairs Traveling Wall flyer foropportunities to make dona-tions. For donor purposes,Coweta Commission onVeterans Affairs Inc. is a 501(c)3organization. Donations mayalso be made via PayPal. Seethe Donations section on thefollowing:

Donation Flyers are availableon the website and Facebook:

Website: cowetacova.org. Facebook: ccvaNewnan.

EVENTSContinued from page 1

‘The Wall That Heals’ schedule of events

Committee sparked project

is aware of all Vietnam-relatedactivities and said he wasimpressed by displays of theVietnam Veterans MemorialMoving Wall, a traveling half-size replica of the memorial inWashington, D.C., known as“The Wall That Heals.”

Quesinberry investigated thepossibility of bringing The Wallto Coweta. Possible dates werediscussed and arrangementswere made to bring The WallThat Heals to Coweta Countyfrom Oct. 20-23.

“Then we got busy spreadingthe word,” Jackson said.

Jackson and other committeemembers spoke to more than35 groups to promote theupcoming visit of The Wall andsolicit public and financial sup-port needed to bring The Wallto Coweta and host a days-longexhibit and associated events.

“We have been every placeyou can think of and have yetto hear a single negative com-ment about what we aredoing,” Jackson said. “The pub-lic has been remarkably sup-portive. I can’t say enoughabout how supportive CowetaCounty has been to all of us.”

In addition to The Wall,other exhibits, including mili-tary memorabilia provided by

area veterans, will be on dis-play. Arrangements have alsobeen made for both a Huey anda Chinook helicopter to be onsite in static displays. The twohelicopters were among themost iconic images of theVietnam War.

The Wall and associated dis-plays will be set up at theCoweta County Fairgrounds.The decision was made to keepall exhibits open 24 hours a dayonce The Wall was in place.

CVA members issued a callfor volunteers to serve asguides and escorts and providesecurity during the event. Itwas estimated 100 volunteerswould be needed. CVA mem-bers were astounded by theresponse.

“We had so many peopleoffer to help that we will beable to staff the entire eventwith Vietnam vets who servedin country,” Jackson said. “Wehad so many volunteers wedidn’t know what to do with allof them. It was very gratifying.”

Two training sessions wereheld to ensure that volunteersand CVA members would beready to solve any problems oranswer any questions visitorsmay have.

The Coweta County Board ofEducation has also backed theproject in a big way. On Oct. 20and 21, students from allCoweta high schools, elemen-tary and middle schools will be

taken to the Fairgrounds tovisit the exhibit, talk with vet-erans and view displays thatare part of The Wall exhibit.

Throughout the week, fami-lies of those killed in Vietnamwho were from Coweta or list-ed with Coweta as their mili-tary “home of record” will bespecial guests at several events.Those families will also behonored at Closing Day cere-monies on Oct. 23 honoringCoweta dead whose names are

inscribed on The Wall.CVA members say prepara-

tions are complete and they arelooking forward to the appear-ance of “The Wall That Heals.”

Jackson said he is especiallylooking forward to the motor-cycle caravan that will accom-pany the trailer bearing TheWall through Coweta County.The plan calls for a small groupof local motorcycle riders tomeet the vehicle carrying The

Wall at the South Carolina stateline and escort the vehiclesouth down I-85 towardNewnan.

When the group reachessouth Fulton County, a group ofseveral hundred patrioticmotorcycles organized by theGreat South HOG Chapter willjoin the motorcade as it pro-ceeds toward Coweta.

After tuning off I-85 atNewnan Exit 47, the convoywill move down Bullsboro

Drive, pass through downtownNewnan and make a looparound Newnan High School tobe greeted by students beforetraveling on to the CowetaCounty Fairgrounds on PineRoad south of Newnan.

“It’s going to be a greatweek,” Jackson said. “I can’twait to see it all happen. Thiswhole event is something I feelsure everyone will appreciateand enjoy. Especially our veter-ans.”

WALLContinued from page 1

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.

EDITORIAL

Let all Cowetans join Musterto honor our Vietnam veterans

(Editor’s Note: A version ofthis editorial was published inthe July 10, 2011, edition of TheNewnan Times-Herald as thenewspaper began its series onthe Vietnam War.)

One of the most anticipatedevents planned in our com-munity this year is theOctober 2011 Veterans Muster.Events are scheduled at theCoweta County Fairgrounds

Oct. 20-23.This year’sM u s t e rwill focuson honor-ing andremember-ing ourveterans oft h eV i e t n a mWar.

T h ehighlight of

this special program will bethe Vietnam MemorialMoving Wall, a half-sizedreplica of the VietnamMemorial Wall on The Mall inWashington, D.C., which con-tains the names of our mili-

tary personnel who lost theirlives in the Vietnam War. TheWall includes 23 names fromCoweta County.

If you have seen theVietnam Memorial Wall inour nation’s capital or havevisited the Moving Wall dur-ing its travels around thecountry, you know what anemotional experience it isjust to stand in front of thesemonuments.

We have seen many tearsshed at The Wall inWashington, and also atappearances of the MovingWall in other communities.We hope all Cowetans willf ind time to drop by theFairgrounds and see this veryspecial display. It will be atouching moment for you.

We salute the CowetaCommission on VeteransAffairs, the organizing groupfor the annual Muster. Wethink it’s especially fitting tohonor and recognize ourVietnam veterans on this yearthat Congress has declared asthe 50th anniversary of the

beginning of the VietnamWar.

Vietnam was a very unpop-ular war. Our veterans whofought there did not comehome to a hero’s welcome.Quite the contrary. Manycame home to protests andvery disparaging words andgestures.

That shouldn’t have hap-pened, because our Vietnamveterans served our countrywith great honor in a war thatwas unlike any war ever.

Through the years life hasbeen tough for many Vietnamveterans. More recently, theseveterans have started toreceive the respect and therecognition they deserve.

This 2011 Veterans Musterand Moving Wall will be anemotional experience. It cango a long way to helping healsome of the wounds. It willgive our community anopportunity to show and totell our Vietnam veterans howproud we are of them andtheir service.

Jones


When President John F.Kennedy ordered 400American Special Forcestroops into Vietnam in May1961, Newnan’s Mel Haydenhad no idea he would soon jointhem.

In the fall of 1961 Hayden wasa first lieutenant attending theU.S. Army’s Special ForcesOfficer Course at Fort Bragg,N.C. He had orders to proceedto Okinawa after completingthe course, but when Kennedydecided to increase America’sadvisory presence in Vietnam,Hayden was told to report tothe Military AssistanceAdvisory Group, Vietnam(MAAG-V). His ordersrequired him to travel on com-mercial aircraft wearing civil-ian clothes.

“We didn’t want to advertisethe fact that American soldierswere coming in,” Hayden said.“We wanted to keep thingsvery low key.”

Hayden joined approximate-ly 3,000 other American mili-tary advisors in Vietnam. Heremembers hearing Lt. GeneralLionel McGarr describe the“urgency” of the situation, butHayden and his fellow advisorsdidn’t feel threatened at all.

“We were just there to trainthe South Vietnamese sol-diers,” Hayden said. “Wethought we’d just whip thoseguys into shape, and they’d beable to take care of things.”

Hayden spent five months atSouth Vietnam’s Infantry andArmor Schools advising a com-

pany of enlisted men hoping toqualify as officers. He was thentransferred to a SouthVietnamese Ranger trainingfacility at Trung Lap and quick-ly realized the Vietnamese“Rangers” bore no resemblanceto their American counterparts.

“They were just infantry riflecompanies who never hadAmerican-style Ranger train-ing,” Hayden said. “But theyworked hard and did their bestand we helped them as muchas we could.”

Hayden and his fellow advi-sors trained the Vietnamese inbasic marksmanship, communi-cations, unarmed combat andRanger patrolling tactics,including ambush, reconnais-sance and raids.

The Americans then fol-lowed the South Vietnamesetrainees into the field to watchthem put their lessons to workagainst a live, armed enemy —North Vietnamese troops.

“We were just getting start-ed,” Hayden said. “They need-ed a lot of work and we gave itto them.”

In December 1962, Haydenreturned to Fort Bragg andjoined the 5th Special ForcesGroup. Six months later he waspromoted to captain and sentback to Vietnam in commandof a 12-man team that recruitedand trained more than 800Vietnamese troops betweenJuly and December of 1963.

Hayden’s group also foughtfor the hearts and minds of theVietnamese people. His team’stwo medics ran a medical facil-ity for Vietnamese civilians,trained village health workersand ran “sick calls” for localsthat often drew 75 to 100 peo-ple a day.

They also spent plenty oftime in enemy territory teach-ing South Vietnamese soldiersthe combat trade.

“We took some casualties,”Hayden said. “On my secondtour things were a little moreserious. We were trainingtroops to guard villages and wecould put them into as muchhot water as we wanted. Wedidn’t make it too hard onthem, but it was still dangerouswork.”

The day President Kennedywas killed, Hayden had justplaced 300 troops near theCambodian border. He remem-bers the Vietnamese thinkingKennedy’s assassination waspart of an attempt to overthrowthe American government.

“They didn’t understandAmerican politics at all,”Hayden said. “There were coupattempts all the time inVietnam, and for them politicalassassinations were just busi-ness as usual. They thought itwas that way in America, too.”

In the summer of 1962,halfway through Hayden’s firstVietnam deployment,Newnan’s David Markbyarrived in Saigon just days aftercompleting Army basic andadvanced training.

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

even know where Vietnamwas.”

Markby worked as aradiotelegraph operator for anArmy unit stationed at Tan SonNhut Air Force Base outsideSaigon. The base was also hishome. In fact he helped buildthe tent city at Tan Son Nhutthat would soon house some ofthe thousands of Americanadvisors that were pouring intothe country.

“We put up the tents andthen we lived in them,” Markbysaid.

Markby spent his days send-ing and receiving messagesbetween American advisorsoverseeing South VietnameseArmy combat operations.

“We heard lots of trafficabout battles and knew ourpeople were out there. But itreally wasn’t a big deal,”Markby said.

After six months, Markby

swapped his tent at Tan SonNhut for a room at the HungDao Hotel in Saigon. Theaccommodations were better,but the security situation wasworse.

“There were bombs going offall the time in Saigon,” Markbysaid. “None of us were everhurt, but you had to be careful.We were especially worriedabout villagers who worked inthe fields all day and came totown at night to blow things up.Nobody wore uniforms, so younever knew who the enemywas.”

Markby said that as hewatched planes packed withadvisors fly into Tan Son Nhuteach day, he knew theAmerican presence was build-ing but he and his fellow sol-diers weren’t concerned.

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

scared or worried about any-thing.”

Neither were his folks backhome.

“I remember telling mymother I was going to Vietnam,and none of us thought any-thing about it,” Markby said.

The U.S. buildup in Vietnamgained more urgency inOctober 1962, when U.S. spyplanes photographed Soviettroops building a nuclear mis-sile base in Cuba — just 90miles from America.

Kennedy’s threat to engage innuclear war if necessary endedwhat came to be called the“Cuban Missile Crisis” andconvinced the Soviets to dis-mantle the Cuban base. But theact of Communist aggressionso close to home madeKennedy more determinedthan ever to aid the South

Cowetans who went to Vietnam in the early days

Mel Hayden David Markby Chuck Crawford

See EARLY DAYS, page 3

October 2011 • Vietnam Veterans Memorial Moving Wall Edition • 3

VETERANS

Vietnamese against NorthVietnamese forces, which bythen were openly supportedand supplied by the Soviets.

By the time Coweta’s ChuckCrawford arrived in Vietnam asan Army captain in June 1963,an estimated 14,000 Americanadvisors were already there.

Crawford got a taste of whatVietnam would be like whenhis first orientation session inSaigon had to be relocatedbecause a bicycle packed withexplosives blew up at the build-ing where he and other newarrivals were scheduled tomeet.

“It was an eye-opener,”Crawford said. “But we didn’tworry about it too much. Wejust went about our business.”

Crawford was assigned toMilitary Assistance Command,Vietnam (MAC-V), and servedas an advisor to the 14th CivilGuard Battalion in Pleiku. Mostof the soldiers he trained wereMontagnards, an indigenousethnic group located largely inVietnam’s central highlands.

“The Vietnamese didn’t likethe Montagnards,” Crawfordsays. “They treated them theway Americans used to treatIndians. But they were loyaland supportive of their leader-ship and they were fierce fight-ers, too. They were good sol-diers.”

Crawford spent a lot of timevisiting village leaders acrossPleiku Province to build sup-port for the American pres-ence. “We went out all the timespreading the message ofdemocracy and goodwill,” hesaid. “That was a big part of thejob.”

But the job also includedadvising on combat operationsand Crawford soon learnedthat being an American advisordidn’t guarantee your safety ina firefight. In fact, quite theopposite.

“The North Vietnamese did-n’t like us being there and did-n’t mind showing it,” Crawfordsaid.

The base at Pleiku was hometo an American helicopter bat-talion. Choppers were used toferry supplies and equipmentthroughout the area and heli-copter gunships went along toprovide security.

American advisors some-times rode in gunships to battlesites to oversee combat opera-tions and help troops on theground distinguish betweenfriendly and enemy forces.

One day a gunship carrying

Crawford was shot full of holesby an enemy machine gun.

American advisors wereunder strict orders not to shootunless they were fired upon,but Crawford said that orderwas largely ignored. “If we sawthe bad guys we didn’t wait toget shot at,” he said. “I wasn’tgoing to give anybody a crackat me for free.”

Crawford — a career soldierwho joined the Army in 1954and served until retiring in 1986as a colonel — said he and hisfellow advisors were actuallyglad to see some combataction.

“We had spent a lot of timetraining to be soldiers and wewere ready to put what we hadlearned into practice,” he said.“We were doing our duty andnobody was particularly appre-hensive about it.”

When Kennedy was assassi-nated Crawford didn’t noticeany immediate change in mili-tary operations. But not longafter Lyndon Johnson wassworn in as president, theAmerican strategy in Vietnamshifted dramatically.

Kennedy had wanted to sup-port the South Vietnamesefinancially and militarily asthey fought for their own free-dom against North Vietnam.Johnson wanted to win the war,and the sooner the better.

Johnson became more andmore frustrated by the SouthVietnamese Army’s lack of suc-cess and decided the only wayto win the war was to putAmerican combat troops intoaction. But he couldn’t do it aslong as Americans served in astrictly “advisory” capacity.

Johnson needed a reason tosend U.S. troops to war. InAugust 1964, a minor skirmishbetween an American navaldestroyer and NorthVietnamese torpedo boats inthe Gulf of Tonkin gaveJohnson the excuse he neededto send U.S forces into battleagainst North Vietnam.

Johnson talked Congress intopassing the Gulf of TonkinResolution, which authorized“all necessary action” to pro-tect U.S. forces in Vietnam. In atelevised address to the nation,Johnson said that more troopswere necessary to protectAmerican forces serving asadvisors in Vietnam. He thenassured citizens that “...theUnited States seeks no widerwar.”

At the time, American deathsin Vietnam since 1956 werefewer than 400. That numberwas about to skyrocket.

EARLY DAYSContinued from page 2

Cowetans in the early days

During a field patrol near the Cambodian border, Chuck Crawfordtalks to Captain Can (in glasses), commander of the 14th CivilGuard Battalion. Crawford was a U.S. military advisor to Can'sbattalion.

Crawford was assigned toMilitary Assistance Command,Vietnam (MAC-V), and served asan advisor to the 14th Civi lGuard Battalion in Pleiku.

David Markby poses outsidepart of the huge tent city helived in and helped build atTan Son Nhut Air Force baseoutside Saigon.

David Markby, left, with some buddies.


The atomic bombs that fellon Hiroshima and Nagasaki,Japan, in August 1945 hastenedthe end of World War II, but itwasn’t long before Americafelt threatened by anotherenemy. It was not a militarypower, but an ideology:Communism.

After World War II,America’s former wartimeally, the Soviet Union, movedquickly to expand its influ-ence in eastern Europe.Communist China did thesame in Southeast Asia.

The fear of communismturned from a politicalsideshow to a vision of globalapocalypse in August 1949,when the Soviet Unionexploded its f irst atomicbomb. As the U.S. and SovietUnion built vast nuclear arse-nals, Americans built bombshelters and trained to survivea potential nuclear war.America’s leaders vowed toslow or stop communistexpansion wherever itappeared.

President Harry Trumanrushed to assure allies inWestern Europe that Americawould defend them againstSoviet aggression. WhenSoviet-backed North Koreantroops tried to overrun thefledgling democracy in SouthKorea, U.S. troops led UnitedNations forces that foughtfrom 1950 to 1953 to keepSouth Korea free and inde-pendent. Almost 37,000Americans died in the effort.

At the same time, Francewas struggling to hold onto itsformer colony in Vietnam,which had been lost to Japanduring World War II.

Shortly after communistNorth Vietnamese forcespushed France out of Vietnamforever at the battle of DienBien Phu in May 1954, mem-bers of the GenevaConvention agreed to divideVietnam into two zones at the17th parallel.

The northern zone was tobe governed by the commu-nist-backed Viet Minh. Thesouthern zone was headed byformer Vietnamese emperorBao Dai. The Geneva agree-ment stated that nationwideelections would be held by1956 to unify the country.Those elections were neverheld.

Instead, a communist insur-gency led by Viet Minh leader

Ho Chi Minh began guerrillaraids against South Vietnam.U.S. President DwightEisenhower vowed to defendSouth Vietnam, and in January1955 the first shipment of U.S.aid arrived in Vietnam.Months later Ho Chi Minhagreed to accept aid from theSoviets.

Over the next four yearsNorth Vietnamese forcesintensif ied guerrilla raidsagainst South Vietnam. In1959, Ho Chi Minh declared a“People’s War” to uniteVietnam under Communistrule. By then, more than 300American military advisorswere assisting SouthVietnamese forces. The workwas hard and dangerous.

On July 8, 1959, Americanadvisors Major Dale Buis andSgt. Chester Ovnand werekilled by North Vietnameseguerrillas. Theirs are the firsttwo names on the VietnamVeterans Memorial inWashington, D.C., makingthem the first official deathsof what Americans came toknow as the Vietnam War.

Just months earlier, fears ofglobal communist aggressionhad struck even closer tohome when, on Jan. 3, 1959,Marxist revolutionary FidelCastro took control of Cubaand quickly turned to theSoviet Union for support.

John F. Kennedy was electedpresident in November 1960.During the campaign, Kennedyvowed to stop the spread ofCommunism in Southeast Asia.But first he had to deal with athreat closer to home: Cuba.

Three months after his inau-guration, Kennedy authorizedthe invasion of Cuba by agroup of CIA-trained Cubanexiles with little or no combatexperience. The invasion tookplace at an inlet called The Bayof Pigs. The operation was adisaster as Fidel Castro’s forcessmashed the “invaders” inthree days.

A frustrated Kennedy wasdesperate to make a standagainst Communism. He decid-ed to concentrate his effortshalf a world away, far from theAmerican people and presscorps.

In May 1961, Kennedy sent400 American Green BeretSpecial Forces advisors toVietnam to train SouthVietnamese troops to fightNorth Vietnamese guerrillas.

American involvement inVietnam was now set in stone.

Threat of Communismdrew U.S. into Vietnam


In August 1964, the U.S.Congress authorized PresidentLyndon Johnson to commitcombat troops to Vietnam, butbefore he could implement hisbattle plan, Johnson had a moreimportant piece of business tohandle: Getting re-elected.

With antiwar sentimentbuilding in the U.S. — largelyon college campuses —Johnson did not want to looklike a warmonger, even thoughhis military advisors werealready drawing up battleplans.

On the campaign trailJohnson said, “We are notabout to send American boysnine or ten thousand milesaway from home to do whatAsian boys ought to be doingfor themselves.”

It was easy for Johnson toproject a peaceful imageagainst Republican candidateBarry Goldwater, an arch-con-servative who argued for moreaggressive action in Vietnamand a stronger stance againstthe Soviet Union and its alliesaround the world.

Two weeks before the elec-tion, East-West tensions grew

when China exploded its firstatomic bomb. On Nov. 1, 1964,Vietcong guerrillas attackedthe Bien Hoa Air Base, justnorth of Saigon. FiveAmericans were killed, butJohnson continued to playpeacemaker and refused tomount a retaliatory attack. Twodays later, Johnson was re-elected in a landslide andpreparations for war began inearnest.

Advisors recommended thecampaign start with air attackswhile Army Special Forcesunits established bases inremote areas of the country.Americans soon learned noplace in Vietnam was safe.

On Feb. 6, 1965, Vietcongguerrillas attacked theAmerican military compoundat Pleiku in the CentralHighlands. Eight Americansdied, 126 were wounded.

Johnson said, “I’ve hadenough of this,” and orderedNavy jets to bomb NorthVietnamese targets. One monthlater, U.S. Marines were sent to

guard the American air base atDanang from Vietcong guerril-las gathering nearby.

Despite increasing antiwarefforts at home, polls showed80 percent approval forAmerica’s military involvementin Vietnam. Those poll num-bers began to change in March1965, with the start of an inten-sive bombing campaign againstNorth Vietnam calledOperation Rolling Thunder.

Just weeks later, 15,000 stu-dents gathered in Washington,D.C., to protest the bombing.There was a brief pause, thenthe bombing resumed. In May1965, Coweta’s Adrien Neelyarrived in Vietnam. And he wasglad to be there.

Neely, a member of the U.S.Air Force, had spent the brutalwinter of 1965 shivering atLittle Rock Air Force Base inArkansas. He volunteered to goto Vietnam for a change of cli-mate.

“Things didn’t seem too badover there, and I really wantedsome warmer weather — so Ivolunteered for Vietnam,”Neely said.

Neely spent his f irst sixmonths at Bien Hoa Air Base.There were occasional mortarattacks, but Neely said,“Overall, it was pretty niceduty.”

Neely and his fellow airmenoften took a shuttle bus toSaigon after work, ate dinnerand did some sightseeing.

“We were like any othertourists,” he said. “We didn’tfeel like there was much toworry about.”

In July 1965, 44 combat bat-talions arrived in Vietnam,bringing the total number ofU.S. troops there to 125,000.

“It definitely started heatingup,” Neely said. “There weremore mortar attacks, and wewere all a little more anxious.”

Neely was a member of theAir Police. His unit met ship-ments of munitions and arms

at the port of Ben Cat on theSaigon River, then escortedconvoys of tractor-trailersloaded with munitions to airbases at Bien Hoa and Tan SonNhut.

Neely’s unit rarely encoun-tered enemy opposition, but heheard from ground troops thatthings were not as easy fartherafield.

“Soldiers told me theyweren’t allowed to fire theirguns unless they were firedupon,” Neely said. “They didn’tlike that at all. But all the guys Iserved with or met knew theirjob and they did it well.”

Neely spent his last sixmonths in Vietnam at the TanSon Nhut Air Force Base justoutside Saigon. He said thataside from small mortarattacks, “things were not bad atall.”

That changed the day Neelyturned in his arms and equip-ment as he prepared to leaveVietnam and come home. Thatnight, Vietcong guerrillasmounted a major mortar attackagainst Tan Son Nhut thatbadly damaged the fuel depot,killed several Americans andstarted fires that burned fordays.

“It was a big deal,” Neely

said. “People were prettyupset.”

When Neely arrived in SanFrancisco in May 1966, the anti-war movement was gatheringmomentum, but Neely said hewas not bothered by protestersupon reaching home.

“We weren’t abused by any-one,” he said. “It was fine.”

Neely said he never doubtedthe merit of the country’sVietnam mission. “I think wewere there for the right rea-sons,” he said. “We were tryingto do something good for thosepoor oppressed people.”

The U.S. Navy played amajor role in the 1965 bombingattacks against North Vietnam.Newnan’s Larry Phillips had afront row seat for the actionwhen he arrived aboard the air-craft carrier USSIndependence in the fall of1965. As soon as theIndependence sailed fromNorfolk to Vietnam, Phillipsknew it wasn’t business asusual.

“There was no doubt wewere in a war by then,” he said.“I thought, ‘well, we’re intosomething.’” Just weeks afterarriving in Vietnam, theIndependence joined an inten-sive 100-day bombing cam-

paign against NorthVietnamese targets.

Phillips’ job was arming andde-arming missiles and bombsfrom U.S. Navy F-4 Phantomfighter planes that were soonrefitted to carry large bombloads as F4-B fighter-bombers.The combat operations neverslowed down.

“Those planes flew 24 hours aday, seven days a week,” Phillipssaid. “They never stopped.”

The planes carried missilesand an assortment of bombsfilled with everything fromexplosives to napalm. DuringOctober 1965, Navy planesspearheaded massive bombraids involving planes from sev-eral aircraft carriers.

“When all those planes got up,they filled the sky,” Phillips said.“It was an unbelievable sight.”

American planes encoun-tered conventional antiaircraftfire and something new:Soviet-made, surface-to-airmissiles. Navy pilots didn’tblink a eye.

“Those planes came back fullof holes and pretty beat up,”Phillips said. “Sometimes theyflew in so low on bombing runs

LBJ wins re-election, and war begins in earnest

Ken RoseLarry PhillipsAdrien Neely

See EARNEST, page 4Some Vietnamese children admire the jeep Adrien Neely is driving.


VETERANS

they came back with treebranches stuck in theirailerons. It was scary, but thoseNavy pilots are a differentbreed. They lived for it.”

American pilots sometimesengaged in aerial combat withSoviet-made Mig fighters.Phillips said it was widelybelieved the planes weren’tflown by North Vietnamesepilots.

“Those enemy pilots weretoo good,” Phillips said. “Wethought they were probablyRussians.”

Phillips said the non-stopflight tempo was exhaustingand his crew often worked 36hours straight, with only a fewhours of rest.

“I was just worn out,” hesaid. “The heat on the flightdeck made it that much worse,but there was never a break. Assoon as those planes got back,we’d get them re-armed andback in the air as soon as wecould. It never ended.”

Getting the ground war start-ed took a little more time.While a Navy carrier couldshow up ready to rumble, mov-ing men, arms and suppliesinto the field was a major logis-tical challenge.

The U.S. Marine Corps wasthe first U.S. ground force toarrive in Vietnam, landing atDanang Air Force Base inMarch 1965. One month later,

Newnan’s Ken Rose reportedto the Third Marine Divisionheadquarters in Danang as afirst lieutenant. As troops, sup-plies and equipment poured in,Marine leaders struggled tokeep on top of the situation.

“It was total confusion atfirst,” Rose said. “There was

really a lotgoing on.”

Initially,only pla-toon orcompany-s i z e dg r o u p swent outto assessthe situa-tion on theg r o u n d .T h eM a r i n e se n c o u n -tered small

groups of Vietcong guerrillas,but were not overly concerned.

“There wasn’t a whole lotgoing on,” Rose said.“Everybody was gung-ho atfirst, but it didn’t take long forthe bloom to wear off.Sometimes, it was boring, butthey did their duty. They didwhat Marines do.”

The situation changed drasti-cally in August 1965, whenRose and his fellow Marineswere jarred awake in the mid-dle of the night as a large, well-coordinated grenade attackagainst the Danang basedestroyed 12 Marine helicop-ters, including the one Rosetraveled in.

EARNESTContinued from page 3

War begins in earnest

Newnan’s KenRose poses proud-ly in his U.S. MarineCorps uniform inthe 1960s.

Newnan’s Larry Phillips, back, second from right, and fellow crewman aboard the aircraft carrier USS Independence pose in front of anF4-B fighter-bomber after setting a record during a massive Naval bombardment of North Vietnam in October 1965.

Larry Phillips, left, helps load a1,000-pound bomb aboard anF4-B Navy fighter-bomber.

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

A supply boat waits on the Saigon River at the port of Ben Cat afterunloading munitions and arms for shipment to American bases inBien Hoa and Saigon.

Soldiers from the SouthVietnamese Army (ARVN)were supposed to be on guardduty, but Rose said some didthe job half-heartedly, if at all.That night, the enemybreached the perimeter atDanang with no problem.

The Marines killed theirattackers and didn’t suffer anycasualties, but Rose said whatthey discovered after thesmoke cleared was disturbing.The bodies of the attackerswere identified not asVietcong guerrillas, but mem-bers of the North VietnameseArmy (NVA).

Until then, Marine Corpsactions had been gearedtoward suppressing smallguerrilla attacks from theVietcong. The presence ofNVA regulars changed the tac-tical equation completely.

“None of us even suspectedthe North Vietnamese Armywas in South Vietnam untilthen,” Rose said. “The ARVN(South Vietnamese army) wasgetting creamed, and we fig-ured if the NVA had shown upwe were going to have someproblems.”

Three months later, in a bat-tle in the Ia Drang valley thatinspired the book and movie“We Were Soldiers Once, AndYoung,” Rose’s suspicionswere confirmed.

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


As President LyndonJohnson campaigned for re-election in 1964, his staff wasdrawing up plans to send U.S.ground forces to Vietnam.

Two months after Johnson’sJanuary 1965 inauguration, theU.S. Marines arrived at DanangAir Force Base. Other groundcombat forces weren’t farbehind.

Rather than retreat fromJohnson’s buildup, Vietcongguerrillas in South Vietnamintensified their efforts. Raidsagainst American installationsincreased in number and feroc-ity.

In May 1965, a massiveVietcong force was threateningto overrun the American baseat Bien Hoa and the 173rdAirborne Brigade (Separate)was sent to relieve SouthVietnamese Army (ARVN)troops in danger of being over-run.

The 173rd, a specially-equipped and trained unit, hadbeen designated as the quickreaction force for the PacificCommand, ready to respond toa crisis immediately. The unitwas known as the “FireBrigade.” Coweta’s Eddie Hall

was part of it.“When we got there Bien

Hoa was under siege,” Hallsaid. “There were VC every-where. We landed, cleanedthem up and got out of there.We were like f iremen.Wherever things got hot, that’swhere we went. Our only jobwas to fight and we did plentyof it.”

During a year in Vietnam,Hall went on 32 combat mis-sions in every part of the coun-try, but he says one of his mostmemorable encounters camewhen he was expecting a dayoff.

Hall, his machine-gunnerRick Hughes and an interpreterwere assigned to guard a bridgeto keep unwelcome guestsaway during a meeting of localvillage chiefs. No one expectedtrouble and Hall and his twocompanions were told theywould get a steak dinner withall the trimmings while theystood guard.

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

South Vietnamese troops

were supposed to keep theriver below the bridge free ofany traffic. They didn’t, andbefore the steak dinner wasdelivered, Hall’s group spottedseven suspicious boats comingdown the river toward thebridge.

After Hughes fired warningshots, Vietcong guerrillasuncovered themselves andbegan firing back from allseven boats. Hall radioed forhelp. Hughes took out the leadboat with his M-60 machinegun while Hall sank the lastboat with his M-79 grenadelauncher.

In minutes American heli-copter gunships arrived andstarted blasting the boats andtheir Vietcong passengers.

The steak dinner went offlater than planned, but the inci-dent made the front page of the“Stars & Stripes,” the U.S. mili-tary’s newspaper.

“That’s how it was,” Hallsaid. “You never knew whatyou were going to run into.”

On Nov. 8, 1965, a unit of the173rd was attacked by a force ofmore than 1,200 Vietcong.Hall’s unit raced to the scene,helped win the fight and spentthe next 18 days pursuingretreating Vietcong.

“Wherever they went wewere right on them,” Hall said.“We made them pay for thatone.”

In September 1965, the U.S.Army’s 1st Cavalry Division(Airmobile) arrived in Vietnamand set up operations at AnKhe.

Newnan’s Gene Kleesejoined them in early October.Kleese was an Army Captainwith the 2nd Battalion of the 1stCav’s 20th regiment. He piloteda UH1-B Huey helicopterequipped with 24 rockets aspart of an Aerial RocketArtillery (ARA) unit. Kleese’sjob was to pour aerial artilleryon enemy ground troops.

The “Airmobile” concept wasbrand new and relied on theuse of helicopters for movingtroops, arms and equipment inand out of battles and fromplace to place. Army brasswere convinced Airmobile wasthe right strategy for fighting interrain like Vietnam, wherejungle clearings were few androads were often non-existentor impassable.

As soon as Kleese arrived hestarted practicing his trade in

small unit engagements.On Oct. 19, the U.S. Special

Forces base at Plei Mei wasattacked by a large contingentof North Vietnamese Army(NVA) regulars. Several 1stCavalry units helped assure aU.S. victory then startedsearching for the NVA force,which seemed to have meltedinto the jungle.

The search for enemy troopswent on for weeks up anddown the Ia Drang valley (Ia isVietnamese for “river”).Several small battles ensued.

Then, on Nov. 14, a 1st Cavbattalion searching an areanear Chu Pong mountain unex-pectedly stumbled across themain NVA force, but didn’trealize at first that the enemynumbered in the thousands.

“Nobody had a clue thatmany NVA troops were there,”Kleese said. “We were just put-ting guys in there to checkthings out and the battle erupt-ed.”

Kleese said it wasn’t longbefore a radio call arrived say-ing “this thing is bigger than wethought” and requesting thatchoppers and ARA be sent tothe fight.

Kleese and his crew saddledup and headed for the bloodybattle of Ia Drang, which wouldlater be immortalized in thebook and movie “We WereSoldiers Once... and Young.”

Kleese spent the afternoonand much of the night on Nov.14 f iring rockets, dodgingenemy fire, flying back torearm and doing it all again.

The ARA fire was directedby Forward Observers (FOs),who spotted enemy troops anddirected the ARA rocket fire.

Kleese said the smoke from thebattlefield was so thick he oftenhad to help the FOs find the“bad guys.” He remembers oneFO standing behind a huge ter-mite mound and trying toexplain his position and howclose the enemy troops were.

Kleese helped the FO fix hisown position then the FO toldKleese the enemy was only 30yards away. Kleese fired rock-ets into a clump of trees nearthe termite mound and asked ifhe was close to the target.

When the FO said, “That’s it!That’s it!” Kleese and the otherARA choppers unloaded on asmall wooded area. Trees andenemy troops began to disinte-grate, and after the rocketswere expended, Kleesechecked back with the FO.

“He said we had nailed it,”Kleese said. “You could tell.The entire area was obliterat-ed.”

The fight raged into thenight. Kleese said you couldtell the 1st Cav troops from theNVA by the color of their trac-er bullets — red for U.S. troops,green-yellow for the NVA.

On the second day of battle,Nov. 15, Kleese’s chopper suf-fered seven engine failures try-ing to leave the base and he hadto get a new chopper to getback into the fight. As the bat-tle wore on, the enemy bodiespiled up. The fight raged andthe casualties mounted on bothsides.

On the afternoon of Nov. 15,Kleese stopped briefly at thelanding zone and spoke to a 1stCav officer. He remembers see-ing dead NVA bodies stackedas deep as six high.

The final body count was

later estimated at more than2,000.

“I’ll never forget that pile ofbodies,” Kleese said. “It reallyshakes you to see somethinglike that.”

Newnan’s Charlie Finn sawthe entire battle from theground.

Finn was with the 2ndBattalion of the 7th Regimentof the 1st Cav. He arrived inVietnam in late summer of1965, joined his unit at An Kheand served as point man onseveral small actions againstenemy forces.

After the Special Forcescamp at Plei Mei was attackedin October, Finn’s unit wentthere to provide security forthe base. Meanwhile, other ele-ments of the 1st Cav werescouring the Ia Drang valley inpursuit of the NVA regularswho had attacked Plei Mei.

During a “search anddestroy” mission near ChuPong mountain, a battalion ofthe 1st Cav encountered a largeenemy force and a major battlebroke out.

Finn’s unit was ordered tojoin the fight at a locationcalled Landing Zone X-Ray (LZX-Ray).

When he arrived, the fightwas raging.

“It was a hot LZ for sure,”Finn said. “They had told us theguys there were getting heavycontact and they weren’t kid-ding. It was so busy nobodyreally knew what was going on.We just got dropped right intothe middle of it.”

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

After LBJ’s inauguration, Marines arrive in Vietnam

Charlie Finn Eddie Hall Gene Kleese

See MARINES, page 5

During his second tour of Vietnam, Charlie Finn flew a single-engineCessna “Bird Dog” plane to scout enemy positions. He crashed onewhen a rudder cable failed on landing. The next day, he posed withit.


VETERANS

his men performed admirablywith no loss of life. Finn givesthanks to his platoon leader,Rick Rescorla, who had trainedthe men relentlessly from theday the unit formed at Ft.Benning, Ga., going so far as toinsist on weapons drills andhand-to-hand combat trainingduring the month-long boatride to Vietnam.

“I can tell you we were aswell-trained as any soldiersever were,” Finn said. “Thattraining saved a lot of lives.”

The fighting continuedthrough the night of Nov. 14and into Nov. 15. Breaks werefew and unpredictable.

“It was strange,” Finn said.“You’d hear two or three shotsand then everything wouldlight up, and before you knewit, everybody was shooting.Things could stop just as soon.I don’t know how that hap-pened.”

Finn’s company moved fromplace to place as battle evolved,but always faced heavy enemyfire — and rarely from morethan 100 feet away.

“There was enemy fire allaround the base,” Finn said.“They were right on us. Itnever let up.”

The night of Nov. 15, Finn’sunit set up claymore mines,trip wires and flares on theirperimeter to let them know ifenemy forces approached.

Just after midnight, trip wireswere breached over a widearea and flares started goingoff.

“It was pretty obvious a bigforce was out there,” Finn said.“We couldn’t see them at first,but there were lots of them.”

As the enemy prepared itsfirst charge, Finn heard thecommand “Fix bayonets!”

“That was the first time Iever heard that command andthe last,” Finn said. “But you

knew when you heard it youwere in a world of hurt. It was-n’t good.”

The enemy charged twicethat night, often getting within20-30 feet of Finn’s unit.

Just before dawn on Nov. 16,Finn’s unit was ordered to anew position. During the move,the enemy charged for a thirdtime and Finn went down,thinking he had tripped. Thenthe fighting started again andFinn’s company was in hotwater again for “15 or 20 min-utes.”

When the shooting stoppedFinn looked down and saw thathis pants were wet. He put hishand over the wet spot andrealized it was blood. He hadbeen shot through the leg and,until then, hadn’t even noticed.

“The adrenaline was pump-ing so hard I didn’t know I’dbeen shot,” he said. “I thought Itripped and maybe that’s whenI was hit. I’m really not sure.”

Three hours later, in theearly morning hours of Nov. 16,the battle for LZ X-Ray wasover. Finn was flown to a hospi-tal in Qui Nhon before he knewthat 79 Americans had beenkilled and 121 wounded at X-Ray.

The next day, at nearby LZAlbany, 155 Americans werekilled and 124 wounded whenambushed by a huge NorthVietnamese force. Two dayslater, Finn contracted malariaand was flown to a militaryhospital in Okinawa.

As Finn was recovering,politicians in D.C. were assess-ing the impact of Ia Drang. Itwas a major victory for

American forces, but PresidentJohnson’s advisors wereshocked that American casual-ties were so high. They wereeven more stunned that theNorth Vietnamese Army hadbeen willing to sacrifice morethan 2,000 men in a single bat-tle and seemed prepared toabsorb huge losses for a longtime.

Secretary of Defense RobertMcNamara flew to meet 1stCavalry commanders at AnKhe to assess the situation anddiscuss the prospects for thefuture.

After the meeting McNamaradrafted a top secret memo toPresident Johnson saying theenemy’s resolve had farexceeded U.S. expectations andthings might get worse.

McNamara said the U.S. hadtwo choices: either get out ofVietnam immediately or givecommanding General WilliamWestmoreland the additional200,000 troops he had request-ed.

At a December 1965 meetingat the White House, Johnsonasked McNamara, “You meanto tell me no matter what I do, Ican’t win in Vietnam?”

McNamara said yes, that vic-tory was impossible. But therest of Johnson’s political advi-sors carried the day and moretroops were ordered toVietnam. Lots more.

The North Vietnamese Armywould not engage U.S. troopsin a major battle for anothertwo years, but even in “small”battles, the U.S. death tollbegan to rise dramatically.

MARINESContinued from page 4

Marines arrive

Charlie Finn at the controls of anArmy plane.

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

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

Coweta’s Eddie Hall, betweenmissions, posing in front of thesupply tent at Bien Hoa airbase.

Eddie Hall, right, and his machine gunner, Rick Hughes, with a copy of an article written about theirexploits in the military newspaper “Stars & Stripes.”

Coweta’s Eddie Hall, left, prepares for another jump with the 173rd Airborne Brigade.


In December 1965, PresidentLyndon Johnson’s advisors con-vinced him the only way to winin Vietnam was to send a mas-sive ground force halfwayaround the world.

On Jan. 1, 1966, U.S. forcestotaled 184,000. Twelve monthslater, more than 385,000Americans were in Vietnam.

At the same time the troopswere pouring into Vietnam,network TV was bringing theworld’s first televised war intoAmerican homes each night.

Politicians tried to minimizepublic relations problems —and civilian casualties — byimposing new rules of militaryengagement, including a stand-ing order that ground troopscould not fire until fired uponand then only “proportionate-ly” to the attack.

Soldiers determined to sur-vive largely ignored such polit-

ically correct warnings, but stillwent to battle every day withtheir hands tied.

The enemy had no suchrestrictions — especially theVietcong guerrillas, whomounted more and more oper-ations designed to produce thehighest body count and themost disturbing pictures forthe American TV audience.

Anywhere a crowd ofAmericans gathered was aprime target for Vietcong guer-rillas. And in early 1966, nonewas better than the VictoriaHotel in downtown Saigon,which had been taken over bythe U.S. military to providehousing for American officers.

Coweta’s Don Rehmanarrived for his first tour ofVietnam in January 1966, serv-

ing as a major in the U.S. ArmySignal Corps. Rehman, wholater retired as an Armycolonel, was charged withadvising and training the SouthVietnamese Army SignalCorps. He said the SouthVietnamese soldiers were dedi-cated troops who did their jobswell.

Rehman was housed on thefifth floor of the Victoria Hoteland said he and his fellow sol-diers were aware their quarterswere in the enemy crosshairs.

“That hotel was full ofAmericans,” Rehman said. “Itwas a good target.”

As a security measure, hugeconcrete barriers were placedin front of the hotel to preventpotential bombers from drivinginto the building. But Saigoncivilians complained abouthaving to walk into the streetto avoid the barriers. Rehmansaid a senior U.S. military offi-cial decided to show that theAmericans were “fearless” by

removing several barriers infront of the hotel’s entrance.

The Vietcong noticed andabout 5:10 a.m. on April 1, 1966,guerrillas drove a two-and-a-half-ton truck packed withexplosives past the remainingbarriers and straight toward thehotel lobby. American MPs onsecurity duty attacked theVietcong and sent the truckcrashing into the front wall ofthe hotel instead of inside thelobby as the attackers hadplanned.

The resulting blast stilldemolished the front of thehotel and caused extensivedamage to the hotel’s first twofloors, including the first floordining room, which wasbelieved to be the attackers’primary target.

Apparently, the Vietcongbelieved Americans startedserving breakfast at 5 a.m. andtimed their attack to hit thehotel when the ground floordining room was packed withsoldiers.

Fortunately, the Vietcongwere wrong. Americans didn’t

start breakfast until 5:30 a.m.and none were in the diningroom when the blast devastat-ed the building.

“If that bomb had gone off 10or 20 minutes later we would-n’t be having this conversa-tion,” Rehman said.

Several Vietnamese civilianworkers died in the blast. AnAmerican MP stationed at thehotel was shot when he racedto stop the attack and forcedthe truck into the front wall.Another MP driving near thehotel when the bomb went offwas killed in a firefight whenhe raced back to the hotel tohelp.

“They saved us all,” Rehmansaid.

Rehman was on the fifthfloor and was uninjured, butthe blast destroyed the commu-nications facilities and he wasunable to call his wife and tellher he was safe. Meanwhile,she saw the devastation on TVand thought the worst.

“My wife didn’t know whathad happened,” Rehman said.“She thought I was gone.”

Two days later Rehman final-ly managed to contact his wifeand assure her he was safe.Then he moved to other livingquarters and continued hisassignment.

“You never knew where theenemy was,” Rehman said. “Itwas a tough situation.”

While the Vietcong mountedguerrilla attacks, American andNorth Vietnamese troopsfought from one end of thecountry to the other.

Americans won battle afterbattle, but the death toll contin-ued to rise. Troops in the fieldknew, however, that the casual-ty count would have beenmuch higher had wounded sol-diers not received medicaltreatment as quickly as theydid, and that timely treatmentwas only possible becauseinjured men were taken fromthe field by medevac helicop-ters manned by pilots, crew-men and medics who routinelyrisked their lives to save theirfellow soldiers.

The Army’s aeromedicalevacuation effort was called“Dustoff.” The pilots who flewthe medevac choppers wereknown as “Dustoff pilots.”

Coweta’s Willie Boyd wasone of them.

Boyd was born and raised inthe Cotton Valley communitysouth of Tuskegee, Ala. Boydattended Tuskegee Universityand graduated with a degree inbiology in June 1966. He was inthe advanced ROTC programand, upon graduation, wascommissioned a second lieu-tenant in the U.S. Army andgiven a choice of joining theArmy Reserve or serving onactive duty.

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

Don Rehman Willie Boyd

An American MP does crowd control following the April 1, 1966,bombing of the Victoria Hotel in Saigon. Coweta's Don Rehmanwas housed at the hotel at the time. See BUILDUP, page 6

Coweta's Don Rehman picturedwhile serving in the U.S. Army.Rehman served two tours inVietnam.


VETERANS

Boyd chose active duty andwas soon on his way to FortSam Houston in San Antonio,Texas, as a member of theArmy Medical Corps.

The minute Boyd arrived inSan Antonio, he was remindedthat America’s civil rightsstruggle was far from over.

“When I got there, I couldn’tget a cab to the base,” Boydsaid. “They wouldn’t pick up ablack man and weren’t evenhappy I asked. The tensionthere was so thick you couldcut it with a knife.”

Boyd called Fort SamHouston, and the duty officerdidn’t hesitate before sending astaff car driven by a private topick Boyd up and drive himback to the base.

“That was nice,” Boyd said.“My first impression of the mil-itary was very positive.”

During his training Boydtook a course in medical evacu-ation procedures being used inVietnam. After one class theinstructor asked if anyonewanted to fly helicopters.

Boyd remembered watchingplanes soar overhead as heworked the Alabama cottonfields and thinking how nice itwould be to fly. Once he wasoffered the chance, he jumpedat it.

Boyd easily passed the apti-tude test and rigorous flightphysical, and once he wasaccepted as an aviation studentwas even more excited whenhe learned he would get anextra $110 per month as a flyer.

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

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

Boyd said the incident gavehim second thoughts, but notfor long.

“My attitude was I was gonnafinish flight school no matterwhat,” Boyd said. “I wasn’tgoing back home and hear peo-ple say ‘I told you you couldn’tdo it.’”

Boyd completed advancedflight training at Fort Rucker,Ala., earned his wings in June1967, and went back to Fort SamHouston to join the 507thAmbulance Company.

He spent time picking uppeople injured in San Antonioauto wrecks and flying food,water and relief supplies to citi-zens stranded by the flashfloods that often inundatedsouth Texas.

In October 1967, Boyd headedto Vietnam. The flight over ona C-130 cargo plane took fourdays, due mostly to unsched-

uled stops to repair the aircraftat Guam, Wake Island and thePhilippines

When Boyd and his fellowsoldiers arrived in Vietnamthey didn’t know what toexpect. They loaded their M-16s, slung bullet-filled ban-doliers over their shouldersand each stepped down theramp of the huge plane lookinglike Rambo.

The commanding officerwho met them took one look,ordered them to unload theweapons and stow the ammoand then put them to work.

Boyd learned the ropes byflying missions with seasonedcombat veteran pilots. His firstmission seemed uneventful. Hecould see the landing zoneclearly and didn’t think therewould be a problem picking upthe patient and heading back tobase. But he noticed that as thechopper approached the land-ing zone, the veteran pilotstarted sweating profusely.

“He looked nervous,” Boydsaid. “But I didn’t know why.Things looked fine to me downthere.”

Then the chopper landedand bullets started flying. Boydsaid he still wasn’t too con-cerned.

“You could hear bullets allover but we didn’t get hit and Iwasn’t too worried,” he said.

Boyd said it took a few moreflights for him to realize whythe pilot on that first flight hadbeen so worried.

“He saw things I didn’t,”Boyd said. “I was looking at thescenery, but he saw troopmovements and potential prob-lem areas and knew we weregoing to take some fire. I had tolearn how to see what was hap-pening down there and not justlook at where I was going. Ilearned pretty quick the bestway to stay alive was to keepfrom doing something stupid.”

Boyd was soon assigned hisown chopper. His first flight asa pilot was at night into a “hot”landing zone where a firefightwas under way. A pair of heli-copter gunships flew on eitherside of him.

The gunships led him to thelanding zone and laid downsuppressing fire while Boydand his crew picked up theirpatients and flew out with noproblems.

“I thought it was great havingthose two gunships with me,”Boyd said. “But it turns out thatwas the first and last time Iever had a gunship escort. Therest of the time we were on ourown.”

Boyd said the key to a suc-cessful mission was getting in,getting the patients aboard andgetting out as quickly as possi-ble. The medevac chopperswere intended to carry threemen on litters and four ambula-tory patients. Boyd said he justpicked up as many as he could

and once packed 22 patients onboard.

Boyd said the medics wholeft the choppers to locate andload the wounded soldierswere the real heroes.

“They had to go out there inthe line of fire and pull thoseguys in with bullets flying atthem the whole time and theynever complained or backedoff,” Boyd said. “They weregreat.”

Boyd said his closest callcame when he was picking upwounded soldiers from the 9thInfantry Division during amajor battle with the Vietcong.

When Boyd arrived the gun-ships had left the area to refueland rearm and he was on hisown. He looked down and sawthe casualties and the landingzone but something was wrong.

“I don’t know what it was butthe hair on the back of my neckstood up,” he said. “It was like asixth sense telling me thingsweren’t right.”

As soon as the medic jumpedoff to collect injured men, theVietcong opened up on thechopper and a round sailedright past Boyd’s head.

“It got scary in a hurry,” hesaid. “We were always a primetarget. I heard that more mede-vac choppers got shot downthan choppers on other dutybecause we only went where

there was fighting. We gotplenty that day.”

Boyd had another close callduring the January 1968 Tetoffensive at a Y-shaped bridgesouth of Saigon.

The fire was heavy and Boydsaid after several trips in andout of the LZ with woundedtroops, he remembers leaningout the chopper to direct someair traffic and found himselfstaring down at a Vietcong onthe ground pointing an AK-47at him. The rounds startedcoming straight at Boyd.

“I said, ‘Oh, Lord,’ and a fewbad words, too,” Boyd said. “Iknew that was it, but I got busyand got out of there before Iwas hit. They shot out ourradio and the flight deck wasreally chewed up. People said Iwas lucky and I told them thatback home we said if youlooked like your mother youwould always be lucky, and Idefinitely looked like my moth-er so maybe that’s what it was.”

Boyd retired from the Armyin 1994 as a full colonel. He saidhe will never forget the time hespent in Vietnam.

“I know we saved a lot oflives and that was our mission,”he said. “I just did my job andso did everybody else on mycrews. I was glad we did somegood.”

BUILDUPContinued from page 5

By 1966, Vietnam saw buildup of United States soldiers as combat intensified

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 inVietnam. Helicopters and planes are parked behind them.

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


Today, women serve inalmost every job in everybranch of the U.S. military —but during the Vietnam War,far fewer females were mem-bers of the military and most ofthose who served in Vietnamwere nurses.

The work that female mem-bers of the military did wasvital. Not long after theVietnam Veterans MemorialWall was dedicated inWashington, D.C., in 1982, aneffort began to honor the morethan 260,000 women whoserved in the military duringthe Vietnam era.

In November 1993, theVietnam Women’s Memorialwas dedicated. The memorialdepicts three nurses tending afallen soldier. It is the firstmemorial in the nation’s capitalhonoring the military service

of American women.But while military nurses

played a crucial role in the warand saved the lives of thou-sands of soldiers, Vietnam vet-erans will never forget anothergroup of females who didn’twear military uniforms, butdresses that marked them asworkers with the AmericanRed Cross.

They served at bases acrossthe country, lifting spirits, help-ing with day-to-day needs ofthe troops and providing whatthe women called “a touch ofhome in the combat zone.”

These young women — allrecent college graduates —were called Donut Dollies.Newnan’s Gretchen Deichelborwas one of them.

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

Deichelbor was born andraised in Minnesota, andattended the University ofMinnesota before graduatingfrom St. Cloud State College in1966.

She planned to continue hereducation, but not until shetook a break and saw some ofthe world.

“I thought I’d go back toschool later, maybe become alawyer,” Deichelbor said. “Butfirst I just wanted to get a kickout of things for a while. Iwanted a job that would allowme to do that.”

Deichelbor applied for workwith the Peace Corps and theAmerican Red Cross, whichwas looking for Donut Dolliesto serve at American militarybases in Korea and Vietnam.

A rapid escalation of theground war in Vietnam had ledto an increase in antiwar senti-ment in America, butDeichelbor said politicsweren’t her concern whendealing with the Red Cross.

“They said they had open-ings for Korea and Vietnam,and I told them I wouldn’t go toKorea, that I’d been throughenough cold winters inMinnesota,” she said. “I toldthem I’d be glad to go toVietnam, though.”

The Red Cross acceptedDeichelbor’s offer, and sheheaded to American Red Crossheadquarters in Washington,D.C., for training.

The first order of businesswas making sure the womenknew the role the DonutDollies played in war zones.For decades, organizations likethe USO had been sending big-name entertainers to performfor troops overseas, but theDonut Dollies were not goingabroad to sharpen any show bizaspirations.

“We were definitely notentertainers,” Deichelbor said.“And we were not hostessesgoing over there to serve foodand drinks at social events. Wethought of ourselves as the girlnext door, a bright, energetic,well-educated girl the soldierscould laugh with or talk to andforget about the war for awhile.”

Dollies began their training

by studying military protocoland learning to identifyinsignia denoting differentranks for every branch of theAmerican military.

“You had to know who waswho and who was in charge,”Deichelbor said. “If you’re deal-ing with the military you needto know how they operate.”

Basic ground rules for theDonut Dollies were empha-sized over and over.

“They told us every day thatwe should smile a lot, not cuss,and not give out our age andeducation,” Deichelbor said.“We weren’t there to encouragepersonal relationships. In factwe were told not to date mili-tary men.” One of the Dollies’main jobs was devising activi-ties and games designed toboost soldiers’ morale and taketheir mind off the ugly businessof war. Deichelbor said she wasalways involved with the “plan-ning, preparation, presentationand evaluation of participation-type programs.”

“That’s a pretty formal defi-nition of the job, but that’swhat it was,” Deichelbor said.“We took it seriously.”

In the fall of 1966, Deichelborfinally arrived in Vietnam. Shewas assigned to duties at a RedCross facility housed in aQuonset hut at the base of Hill327, often called Freedom Hill.It was just outside Danang AirForce base, the first stop for allU.S. Marines entering Vietnam.

Deichelbor was assigned towork with the 3rd MarineExpeditionary Force (MEF),which was based at Danang.

As the Marine presencesurged, Deichelbor and her

fellow Dollies worked to createand organize the games andactivities they would present totroops. Many of the activitieswere skits or games based onpopular TV shows of the day.The Dollies presented theshow at the Danang Red Crossfacility and at remote outpostsand firebases across Vietnam.

“Wherever they wanted us,we went,” she said. “We wereglad to get out, and saw a lot ofthe country.”

The new job in a new coun-try meant adjusting to somenew and unusual sights. In oneof her first letters back home toher mother, Deichelbor wrote,“I went on a run to an AirborneDivision, then to MonkeyMountain then to a CoastGuard ship. Monkey Mountainis actually a mountain withmonkeys running around on it.I actually saw a monkey!”

In that same letterDeichelbor admitted she got“seasick three times” whileaboard a Coast Guard vesselsitting at anchor in the SouthChina Sea.

Despite that, she said, “Thatwas the most fun socially I’dhad since I got to Vietnam.”

The fun didn’t last long andsoon Deichelbor was on therun to outposts across thecountry.

“We rode all over the coun-try and did what we could tomake the guys happy,”Deichelbor said. “It was neverdull.”

Even back at the Red Crossfacility near Danang, remindersof war were everywhere.Although Deichelbor said that“Danang was a pretty securelocation,” missiles perched on ahill overlooking the basereminded the girls why theywere there, as did the constantstream of U.S. and enemy trac-er bullets that lit up the skies atnight.

But even at the Red Crossfacility, the horrors of warweren’t completely forgotten.

One night when Deichelborwas working at Hill 327, aMarine came in fresh fromcombat duty. But Deichelborsaid he wasn’t in a mood torelax. One of Deichelbor’s jobswas collecting weapons at thedoor and stowing them awayuntil the soldiers left for theevening.

The Marine came in and

turned in his weapon, but wasfar from happy.

“He was loud and angry andmade a scene,” Deichelbor said.“He looked at me and asked,‘What are you doing inVietnam?’ and wanted to fussabout everything.”

Deichelbor explained theDonut Dollies were there tosupport the troops, but theMarine wasn’t interested. “Hedidn’t want to hear it,”Deichelbor said. “He was justmad.”

His buddies took him away,and Deichelbor didn’t see himagain until two hours laterwhen he came to collect hisrifle and leave.

He apologized to Deichelbor,and she tried to strike up a con-versation and asked where hewas from. The Marine wasfrom Minnesota andDeichelbor learned she knewhis cousin, a girl Deichelborhad worked with in a St. Cloudbeauty shop while paying herway through college.

After the Marine left,Deichelbor learned that beforecoming to the Red Cross facili-ty, he had been at the militarymorgue to view the bodies offive buddies who had just beenkilled in action.

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

Even when the Dollies triedto take a break, the war intrud-ed. One night Deichelbor andsome coworkers decided to eatdinner at a restaurant nearDanang that sat perched onstilts over the Danang River. Asthey walked over the shakybridge to the restaurant,Deichelbor watched as severaldead bodies were pulled fromthe water below.

“We never found out whothey were or what happened,”Deichelbor said. “But it wasalways there. You couldn’tescape it.”

In addition to helping sol-diers, the Donut Dollies weresometimes asked to offer assis-tance to civilians. Deichelbormade a trip to a Catholicorphanage in Saigon to visitchildren, many of whom hadbeen orphaned by the war.

“We tried to do what wecould to make those kidshappy, but it was so sad,”

Donut dollies provided touch of home in combat zone

Gretchen Deichelbor

Gretchen Deichelbor, second from left, and other Red Cross work-ers at a training facility in Saigon. See DOLLIES, page 7

Part of Gretchen Deichelbor’s job as a Donut Dollie in Vietnam wascreating games and activities to keep the troops entertained. Here,Deichelbor, right, and another Donut Dollie lead a game thatinvolved guessing the name of the cattle brand created by thewomen. Deichelbor’s brand is “Rocking R,” in case you’ve neverbeen on a real roundup.


VETERANS

THE POWER OF

PATRIOTISM

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Deichelbor said. “The war real-ly touched everyone.”

Although it wasn’t part of herroutine duty, Deichelbor alsomade several trips to militaryhospitals to visit wounded sol-diers. She had a special bondwith those who had sufferedburns. Deichelbor survived twohouse fires while growing upand still bore the scars on herknees, ankles, elbows and “afew places I didn’t let anyonesee,” she said. “I couldempathize with the burned sol-diers and what they were goingthrough.”

“When I told them theywould heal physically and beable to resume a normal life,they could see that I knew whatI was talking about and thatmade it easier for them tobelieve what I was saying.”

The Donut Dollies were offi-cially disbanded in 1972. RedCross workers still performsome of the same functions butDeichelbor said technology hastaken over many of the servicesthe Dollies once performed.

In Vietnam, Deichelborhelped soldiers write lettershome. Today, every man andwoman in uniform has a smart-phone or access to the Internetand can be in contact with fam-ilies a world away instantly.

Even soldiersin the mostremote bases inIraq orAfghanistan haveaccess to diningfacilities or fieldmeals that makethe old “CarePackages” fromhome filled withsnacks and foodtreats unneces-sary.

“We neverserved donutsbut we servedplenty of Kool-Aid and cakeand cookies,” Deichelbor said.“Today the soldiers have accessto snacks and good food. Whenthey get a package from home,it’s liable to hold extra bandag-es or sunscreen or batteries forpersonal electronic equip-ment.”

Once Deichelbor returned tocivilian life she remained astrong supporter of U.S. troops,especially Vietnam veterans. In2004, she started a special pro-gram creating hand-made cardscommemorating overseas com-bat service and events ofnational significance to veter-ans.

She provides the cards tolocal law enforcement and pub-lic safety employees whoserved in Vietnam. Deichelborcalls it the “Boots on theGround” program.

Each card celebrates a holi-day, event or theater of service.Deichelbor said a favorite is acard she created with a map ofVietnam adorned with a cutoutof a pair of combat boots withthe dog tags threaded throughthe boot laces, as they wereworn in Vietnam.

“They all said, ‘Look at thedog tags.’ I remember that. It’sjust how we wore them.’”

Deichelbor said she plans toexpand her “Boots on theGround” card series to cele-brate even more occasions andevents important to soldierswho served overseas.

“I’ll always support thetroops, and it makes me feelgood that I can do somethingthat makes them feel good,”Deichelbor said. “That’s whatbeing a Donut Dollie is allabout.”

DOLLIESContinued from page 6

Donut dollies provided touch of homeGretchen Deichelbor, far left, joins other Donut Dollies at a Red Cross facility in Vietnam.

Gretchen Deichelbor, left, and her fellow DonutDollies often presented programs to troops inthe field in Vietnam.


Although the United Stateshad been sending military“advisors” to Vietnam sincethe 1950s, American armedforces did not take an activecombat role until 1964.

On Aug. 2, 1964, the destroy-er USS Maddox was attackedby North Vietnamese patrolboats while sailing in interna-tional waters in the Gulf ofTonkin off the coast of NorthVietnam. That incident pro-vided the excuse PresidentLyndon Johnson had beenseeking to send U.S. forces towar.

On Aug. 7, 1964, Congresspassed the Gulf of TonkinResolution, authorizingJohnson to take all action nec-essary to protect Americanforces in or near Vietnam.Within days, carrier-basedU.S. Navy planes were flyingbombing runs against NorthVietnamese targets.

U.S. Navy forces would notleave Vietnam for the nextnine years.

Official Navy records showthat from 1964 to 1973, 2,564Navy personnel died in theVietnamese theater of war.

The single deadliest day ofthat engagement was July 29,1967, when 134 sailors werekilled instantly or died frominjuries received during a hor-rifying incident aboard the air-craft carrier USS Forrestal.

Coweta’s Wayne Moore sur-vived the incident, but thememory of that day is inkedon his mind forever.

“It was the worst thing I’veever been through,” Mooresaid. “I try to tell people whatit was like, but you had to bethere. It was terrible.”

Moore was born and raisedin Moreland, and shortly aftergraduating from Newnan HighSchool he enlisted in the U.S.Navy.

“I wasn’t going to collegeand the draft was picking

everybody up,” he said. “Iknew I’d get called so I decid-ed to enlist and serve in theNavy like my father.”

After completing Navy basictraining Moore headed forNorfolk, Va., to join the crewof the aircraft carrier USSF o r r e s t a l .The Forrestal sailed to SouthAmerica then around the tipof Africa on its way toVietnam. The last stop was thePhilippines, where theForrestal was stocked withordnance for the Vietnam mis-sion.

The ship’s weapons maga-zine filled up before all thebombs were loaded, leavingno choice but to stack a largequantity of bombs on theflight deck. Not just anybombs. The bombs stored onthe deck were World War II-era, 1 ,000-pound bombsknown as “Fat Boys.” Unliketheir 1960s-era counterparts,which only detonated whenstriking a target, the Fat Boyscould be set off by intenseheat. Storing them on the deckwould soon prove deadly.

The Forrestal arrived in theGulf of Tonkin off NorthVietnam on July 22, 1967 —and Moore went to work. Hewas a member of a fuelingcrew that worked on the flightdeck fueling the ship’s planesbefore each mission and set-ting them up for the next fuel-ing afterwards. The flighttempo was high and fuelingcrews typically put in 18-hourdays in some of the most dan-gerous areas of the ship.

“There were lots of ways toget hurt on the flight deck,”Moore said. “We got haz-ardous duty pay for working

Attack of USS Maddoxtriggered sending U.S.forces into Vietnam

Wayne Moore

Don Chapman

Mike JohnsonSee MADDOX, page 8

http://www.bankofcoweta.com


LOCAL

there.”On the morning of July 29,

Moore had his planes fueledand ready. A few minutesbefore the 11 a.m. launch, he leftthe flight deck and walkeddown to the next deck below torelax with some buddies on thefantail.

He remembers hearing ahuge explosion above on theflight deck. At first he thoughtthe ship had been attacked bythe Russians, since a Russianship had come perilously closeto the Forrestal a day earlierbefore it was chased off.

Within seconds after theblast, the General Quartersalarm rang and all crews wereordered to their battle stations.

As Moore raced up the ship’sladder to the flight deck, heencountered a sailor comingdown, horribly burned and inagony. Moore helped him tosick bay and stopped to helpanother burned sailor beforefinally making it to the fightdeck.

“I didn’t know what wasgoing on,” he said. “But thoseguys were in awful shape. I hadto help them.”The explosion on the flight

deck had started when an elec-trical malfunction in an F-4Phantom fighter launched aZuni missile while the planewas still on the deck. The mis-sile tore across the flight deckand went all the way throughan A-4 Skyhawk piloted by ayoung Naval aviator and futureU.S. Senator named JohnMcCain.

McCain’s fuel tanks rupturedand fuel spilled onto the deck.A spark set the fuel ablaze andthe deck was soon engulfed ina massive fire. The heat took itstoll on the massive Fat Boybombs, and one minute and 34seconds after the missile wentoff, a 1,000-pound bomb fromMcCain’s plane exploded. Themassive blast tore a huge holein the flight deck and causedeven more damage on lowerdecks where the force of theblast was directed.

The initial blast killed morethan two dozen crewmen andpilots immediately. Otherswould die from their wounds.

The first bomb also devastat-ed the fantail where Moore hadbeen standing when the firestarted. “If I had been therethen I wouldn’t be here now,”he said.

As firefighters worked toextinguish the rapidly-spread-ing fire, more of the hugebombs exploded. Moore andhis mates rushed to push theremaining bombs off the deckand into the sea.

“It’s amazing how muchweight you can move whenyou’re scared,” he said.

Before the fire was broughtunder control, nine of the1,000-pound bombs hadexploded, blowing automobile-sized holes in the deck anddevastating the ship in the

worst air-craft carri-er f ires i n c eWorld WarII.

T h eexplosionsand firekilled 134sailors andi n j u r e dhundredsmore. “Istill can’tbelieve Iwas there,“ M o o r esaid. “Itwas awfulseeing thatw h o l e

thing happen.”Moore stayed with the ship

while it was repaired atPortsmouth, Va., and spent therest of his Navy tour in otherparts of the world.

Moore left the Navy afterfour years and returned toCoweta County, where he had along career with Douglas &Lomason and opened a deerprocessing business he hasoperated for 30 years.

“Nobody wanted to go toVietnam,” Moore said. “But I’mproud I served over there.”

Newnan’s Don Chapmanserved two tours in Vietnambased on an aircraft carrier. ButChapman spent the majority ofhis time in the air, flying 199combat missions in a F-4Phantom fighter jet. That kindof combat schedule made onecommodity more precious thanany other.

“Sleep was the biggest luxurywe had and we didn’t getmuch,” Chapman said. “Theflight tempo was so high itseemed like we were always in

the air. If we ever got six hoursof sleep it was cause for cele-bration.”

Chapman grew up in south-ern Illinois. After graduatingfrom Enfield, Ill., High Schoolin 1959 he enrolled at theUniversity of Illinois to studycivil engineering with plans ofbecoming a pilot.

“I knew I wanted to fly butthe military required college soI went to school,” he said.

During his third year ofschool, Chapman learned hecould qualify for Navy flighttraining with only two years ofcollege.

He left college, easily passedall the Navy’s flight school testsand in May 1963, began flighttraining in Pensacola, Fla.

One year later, in May 1964,Chapman earned his wings andwent to Miramar Naval AirStation in San Diego for fighterjet training.

He was assigned to fly F-4Phantom fighters and in April1967, arrived in Vietnam aboardthe aircraft carrier USSConstellation as part of the143rd Fighter Squadron.

Chapman admits his first fewcombat missions were white-knuckled rides, but after awhile he settled into a routineand went about his business.

“Once you figured out whatyou’re doing and what to lookfor, you could just fly and that’swhat we all loved to do. And Iwas lucky. I never got hit.”

On his first tour, Chapman’sF-4 squadron escorted A-4Skyhawk attack planes as theybombed enemy targets at lowaltitude. The F-4s went in firstto suppress anti-aircraft fireand then circled between theSkyhawks and North Vietnam,ready to intercept any airbornethreats.

“We went in before them andstayed after they got through tomake sure nobody was afterthem,” Chapman said.

A major part of the F-4 mis-sions was spotting antiaircraftfire and directing the Skyhawksaway from danger.

“You could see the flak com-ing,” Chapman said. “We’dwatch and when it got closewe’d tell them to break, and

they usually got away with noproblems.”

Antiaircraft fire was constantbut didn’t bother Chapman orthe other F-4 pilots too much.

“You could see the tracersgoing by, and at first you’dthink ‘that was close.’ But aftera while, you didn’t really thinkabout it,” he said. “We knewhow to change altitude andcourse to make it a lot safer.”

A much bigger worry was thethreat from Russian-madeSAMs (surface to air missiles).But American pilots found thatsince the SAMs were built tointercept an aircraft at a partic-ular point in its flight, theycould be dodged with evasivemaneuvers the SAMs wereunable to match.

The pilots’ biggest concernwas the threat of being shotdown, captured and held as aprisoner of war.

One of the most famous sur-vivors of North Vietnam’s bru-tal prison camps is JohnMcCain. He received shrapnelwounds during the July 29, 1967,explosion aboard the USSForrestal but recovered quicklyand was back in the air monthslater. McCain was shot downover Hanoi in October 1967 andheld prisoner until 1973.

To teach them how to sur-vive in the event they werecaptured, all pilots underwent aprogram called SERE — forSurvival, Evasion, Resistanceand Escape.

The brutal training exposed

the pilots to everything frombeing banged around by guardsto living in the worst imagina-ble physical conditions.Chapman said he learned hisbiggest lesson when he wasforced to go without food for aweek and water for a day.

“Most Americans have nevergone without food for a week.But I learned you could do it ifyou had to, and that was a greatlesson,” he said.

During his two tours inVietnam, Chapman saw themilitary objectives changedrastically. He once flew onemission over Haiphong harborwith orders to get the name ofa cargo ship. The ship was car-rying 18 military trucks butChapman was forbidden toattack. Later that day, an A4-Skyhawk pilot was shot downwhile attacking one of thosetrucks.

“I could have done it while Iwas there with no problem,”Chapman said. “It was crazy forme to pass those trucks by andlose a pilot later shooting atthem.”

Pilots were also instructednot to bomb a soccer stadium,even though a NorthVietnamese missile battery wasset up in the middle of the play-ing field.

“They didn’t want us tocause civilian casualties, butthat same missile battery wasshooting at American planes,”Chapman said. “That was nuts.When the politicians take overit’s never good and that was theproblem over there.”

Chapman served six years inthe Navy and, in April 1969,became a pilot with WesternAirlines. When Western wasbought by Delta in 1989,Chapman stayed on until heretired in 2001. He has calledCoweta home for 20 years.

Chapman lost some closefriends in Vietnam, includinghis roommate aboard theConstellation, who was killedduring a carrier launch twoweeks after his wife had givenbirth to a child.

“That was really tough,”Chapman said. “I’ve been luckyand blessed all my life and I’mmore fortunate than I can say.We all did our duty in Vietnambut to lose close friends, that’sthe hardest thing about anywar.”

Although the Navy gatheredmost of the seagoing militaryheadlines from the VietnamWar, the U.S. Coast Guard alsoplayed a vital role in the action.While the Coast Guard is wide-ly known for its efforts inAmerican waters — where itprovides coastal security, oper-ates search and rescue mis-sions, enforces fisheries lawsand interdicts drug shipmentsheaded for U.S. shores — it hasalso played a combat role inevery U.S. war since 1790.

Coweta’s Mike Johnson is aCoast Guard veteran who had aringside seat for the action inVietnam.

Johnson was born in Cowetabut moved to Atlanta at age 5.When he graduated fromSylvan Hills High School in1967, he wanted to join the serv-ice but was too young. Heworked as a letter carrier forthe U.S. Post Office untilNovember 1967, when he joinedthe U.S. Coast Guard.

After basic training in CapeMay, N.J., Johnson headed toBoston to be assigned to a ship.One Friday afternoon, a com-manding officer told Johnsonhe could either stay aboard aship based in Boston or sail forVietnam the following Mondayon the U.S. Coast Guard Cutter(USCGC) Bibb.

Johnson had a Coast Guardbuddy from the Boston areaand decided to head forVietnam so his buddy couldstay close to home.

“I was already seven hundredmiles from home,” Johnsonsaid. “What difference didanother ten thousand milesmake?”

Johnson was a member of thedeck crew, whose main job wasperforming maintenance on theship’s lines and exterior fit-tings. “We chased rust,” he said.But all Coast Guardsmen were

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

The Bibb arrived in Vietnamin March 1968 and got to work.The ship’s mission was stop-ping and searching any vesselthat came by. They worked thecoastal waters, and up anddown the rivers that wovethroughout Vietnam and wereused as supply routes byVietcong guerrillas and theNorth Vietnamese Army.

“We were looking forweapons, explosives andenemy soldiers,” Johnson said.The VC (Vietcong) were allover South Vietnam and theyused those rivers to move theirpeople and supplies from placeto place.”

On a typical mission,Johnson’s vessel would stop alocal boat, board it and performan extensive search of the shipand cargo, looking throughbags of food, baskets of fish andany other place that could hidea man or a weapon.

“We confiscated plenty ofweapons and ammo,” Johnsonsaid. It was everywhere youturned.”

If the ship being searchedwas not carrying troops orweapons, the Americans endedthe mission by offering theVietnamese food and water,giving them medical care anddoing what they could to pro-vide for their other needs.

“We treated them like humanbeings,” Johnson said. “Thatwas part of the job, too.”

The Coast Guard vesselswere also called on to rendercombat support to land-basedArmy or Marine Corps unitswho needed a hand.

On one river patrol,Johnson’s ship started takingfire from both banks of a rivernot more than 50 yards wide.The ship headed downstreamat top speed to escape the ini-tial ambush, then came back tothe area where they had beenattacked and started firing backat the places where enemy gun-fire could be spotted.

“We just kept going by andcoming back the other direc-tion and shooting at any targetswe saw,” Johnson said. “We letthem have it and did it all overagain. We kept going back andforth until they weren’t firingback anymore. We figured theyhad left and then we movedon.”

Johnson’s crew also workedclosely with the people of twovillages: Song On Doc and An

Tho. Between combat missions,Coast Guardsmen visited thevillages to render medicalassistance and offer help withvillage projects from paintingto cleaning.

“We helped any way wecould,” Johnson said.

Once, tensions ran high forseveral days when mortarshells started falling on a vil-lage. The Coast Guardsmenmade several trips into thenearby hills to search for themortar site.

On each trip, they passed anelderly woman coming downthe trail carrying a sack theCoast Guardsmen assumed wasfilled with food or supplies.They were wrong.

The 70-year-old woman hadbeen firing the mortars at herown village.

“It broke our hearts when wefound out she had been doingit,” Johnson said. “We neverknew why she was firing at herown village. She might havebeen trying to hit us, but shenever did.”

Johnson was in Vietnamwhen actress Jane Fondafamously appeared to show hersupport for the NorthVietnamese, going so far as topose with a North Vietnameseantiaircraft gun. “It still makesme sick at my stomach,”Johnson said.

Johnson was also frustratedby some of the military tactics.On several occasions, U.S. mili-tary commanders, at the com-mand of politicians in D.C.,called cease fires, hoping toencourage peace talks. Instead,the enemy used the lulls in thefighting to resupply and rein-force.

“We’d take a place and thenthey’d have a cease fire and theenemy just reloaded and cameback,” Johnson said. “After thecease fire ended we’d have togo back and take it all overagain. It was a real waste.”

Johnson left the service in1972 and came back to Atlanta,working another seven yearswith the Post Office beforejoining the Fulton County FireDepartment, where he worked24 years before retiring as aBattalion Commander. He hascalled Coweta home for years.

“Sometimes it got frustratingover there in Vietnam,”Johnson said. “But we knewour duty and we carried it out.We did what we had to do.”

MADDOXContinued from page 7

Attack of USS Maddox triggered sending United States forces into Vietnam

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 pro-pellers.

Don Chapman atMiramar Naval AirStation in SanDiego, where hetrained to fly F-4Phantom fighterjets.

Don Chapman aboard his F-4 Phantom in the Gulf of Tonkin off thecoast of Vietnam.

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

Mike Johnson, left, and all otherCoast Guardsmen who served inVietnam were always ready forcombat.

Mike Johnson in the bunk roomof the Coast Guard Cutter Bibb.

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

While Coweta’s Wayne Moore was serving aboard the USSForrestal in Vietnam a huge explosion and fire took the lives of 134sailors. Here, sailors fight the blaze.


VETERANS


American Special Forces per-sonnel were operating inSoutheast Asia as early as the1950s under the guidance of theCIA.

When President John F.Kennedy decided to increaseAmerica’s presence inVietnam, Special Forces “advi-sors” played a lead role intraining the South Vietnamesemilitary as the country workedto form an independent gov-ernment.

In 1964, Pentagon officialsdecided to broaden the role ofthe Special Forces in Vietnamand created the Studies andOperations Group (SOG) toconduct covert operations inVietnam, Laos and Cambodia.

The SOG’s official writtenmission was “to execute anintensified program of harass-ment, diversion, capture ofprisoners, physical destruction,acquisition of intelligence, gen-eration of propaganda, anddiversion of resources againstthe Democratic Republic ofVietnam (North Vietnam).”

Because American militarypersonnel were not “officially”allowed to cross the borders ofVietnam into neighboringcountries, the SOG was notunder the control of militaryfield commanders in Vietnam,but reported directly to offi-cials at the Pentagon.

A now retired school admin-istrator from Newnan, RobinMiller, had no idea he wouldjoin this group when he gradu-ated from Atlanta’s NorthsideHigh in 1959 and enrolled atNorth Georgia College withthoughts of becoming a careersoldier.

“North Georgia College wasthe perfect place for me,”Miller said. “I got militarytraining but I also got a greateducation and learned todevelop my leadership skills.”

Miller graduated from NorthGeorgia in 1963 with a degree

in Health and PhysicalEducation, a second lieu-tenant’s commission in the U.S.Army Reserve and a two-yearactive duty commitment to theArmy.

Miller headed directly for Ft.Benning, Ga., where he took anofficer’s orientation course andearned his Airborne jumpwings.

After a year commanding abasic training company at Ft.Gordon, Ga., Miller wasassigned to the 1st SpecialForces Group (SFG), stationedin Okinawa. But first, he had togo back to school.

At the time, all SpecialForces officers and enlistedmen had to be bilingual, andMiller, by then a captain, wassent to the Defense LanguageInstitute In Monterey, Calif.,where he spent a year studyingCantonese, the language ofSouthern China, includingHong Kong.

“When they told me I wasgoing to study Chinese I askedif they had looked at myEnglish scores, but it didn’tmatter. I have never studiedharder in my life than I did thatyear.”

In December 1966, Millerjoined the 1st Special ForcesGroup in Okinawa. He saidthere was no disagreementover the Vietnam missionamong the troops.

“Most of us were volunteersand wanted to be involved inwhatever the country asked usto do,” Miller said. “There wasnever a lack of commitment tothe effort.”

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

Command-Vietnam-Studiesand Observations Group). Hewas stationed at Kham Duc,about 10 miles from the Laotianborder.

Miller and his SOG teamwore uniforms with noinsignia, flew on aircraft withno markings and used weapons“that were not necessarilymade in the U.S.A.”

A large number of Chinesemercenaries recruited fromSaigon were brought in andgiven what amounted to Armybasic training with specialemphasis on tactics and smallunit operations. Once trained,the Chinese joined SOG teamsof three to 12 members that rancross-border operations.

“The Chinese were on ourside, but they could operate onthe other side of the border alot easier than we could.”Miller said. “They were facilita-tors but they were fighters,too.”

The main goal of Miller’sSOG group was doing recon-naissance and confronting andinterdicting North Vietnamesesupplies and troops headedthrough Laos down the Ho ChiMinh trail to South Vietnam.

Miller said NorthVietnamese troops tried toavoid American troops asmuch as possible so as not togive away their location or mis-sion.

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

The reluctance to engage bythe North Vietnamese began tochange, though. When Millerleft Vietnam for Okinawa inDecember 1967, he noticed thedifference.

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

It did.In January 1968, the North

Vietnamese Army launched theTet Offensive (named for theVietnamese new year). It wasthe first major encounterbetween U.S. and NorthVietnamese regular armyforces since the battle of IaDrang in November 1965.

The Americans won a deci-sive victory in the months-longTet battle, but the fight stunnedan American public that hadbeen led to believe the NorthVietnamese army was inca-pable of mounting a major bat-tle.

The Tet Offensive turned thetide of American public opin-ion solidly against the warwhen it became clear a quickvictory was nowhere in sight.

Two months after Tet,President Lyndon Johnsonannounced he would not runfor re-election, tacitly acknowl-edging that his inability to winin Vietnam had killed his politi-cal career.

Miller returned to Okinawafor three months and wasdeployed back to Vietnam for ayear. He was stationed at NhaTrang and served with the 5thSpecial Forces Group fromMay 1968 to April 1969.

Miller’s biggest task wasdeveloping plans for AmericanSpecial Forces teams designat-ed to train South VietnameseSpecial Forces units so theycould take over security andoperational duties fromAmerican forces.

“We had a good plan for thetransition of power, but as weall know, that didn’t turn outlike we hoped,” Miller said.

After a year at Nha Trang,Miller returned to the Statesand was discharged from theArmy on Christmas Eve 1969.

He and his wife, Alice, set-tled in Newnan and Millerstarted working as a coach andphysical education teacher atWestern High School at thestart of the 1969-70 school year.

It was the beginning of a 25-year career with the CowetaCounty Schools. During histenure Miller served for 13years as principal of Elm StreetSchool and spent his last “fiveor six years” on the job as anassistant superintendent.

Miller is proud of his serviceand grateful for the trainingand opportunities the Armyprovided.

“I have no regrets,” Millersaid. “It was a wonderfulcareer. We knew that manypeople back home didn’t agreewith the war but I never heardany complaints from theSpecial Forces units I was with.Soldiers are soldiers and Iserved with some of the best.”

In 1968, the American troopcount in Vietnam topped half amillion. The majority of thosemilitary personnel were notfront line combatants but logis-tical and support troops whokept the machinery of war —both human and mechanical —humming along.

Newnan’s J.L. Boozer wasamong them.

Boozer was born inCarrollton but raised inNewnan, attending WestsideSchool and Central High beforedropping out in the 12th gradeto help support his family. In1967, he enlisted in the U.S.Army.

Recruiters noted Boozer’smechanical skills and, afterbasic training at Ft. Benning, hewas sent to Aberdeen, Md., tospecialize in automotive repairand maintenance. In April 1968,Boozer headed for Vietnamand was based in Vung Tau, acoastal city south of Saigon.

Boozer worked on every kind

of car and truck in the Armymotor pool, doing whateverwas necessary to get the vehi-cles back into battle so theycould be beat up, banged up orshot up again.

“War tears things up prettygood,” Boozer said. “But weknew what we were doing andwe got it taken care of.”

The Army soon noticedBoozer was also gifted at han-dling people, and after 10months on automotive duty, hewas transferred to the Army’sEM (enlisted men) and NCO(non-commissioned officer)club system to work in the mili-tary’s network of clubs andrestaurants that providedentertainment and relaxationfor troops sent back from thefront line for a few days ofR&R (rest and relaxation).

Many of the more than 100bars, night clubs and restau-rants in Vung Tau were namedafter American cities, towns orlandmarks.

“We tried to make it feel asmuch like home as possible,”Boozer said. “Our job was totake their minds off the war fora little while.”

Boozer was constantly talk-ing to the troops in the clubsand it didn’t take him long tosee some common threads intheir attitudes and behavior.

“We wanted them to have agood time, but it was hard forsome of them,” Boozer said.

“Some guys would come infrom the field and they werepretty messed up. Every dayyou’d see men coming inwhose friends had gottenkilled. They saw all that fight-ing and it can mess your mindup. Some gave up hope of evermaking it back in the States,didn’t think they could readjustto society. I know men that re-enlisted because they didn’tthink they could make it backhome.”

After 12 months in VietnamBoozer went back to the Statesand spent time at Ft. Riley, Ks.,before shipping out for a sec-ond tour in Vietnam with theEM/NCO program. This timeBoozer was stationed in CuChi, which featured severalR&R locations.

Boozer managed four differ-ent clubs and did so well hewas named soldier of themonth five times. But he saidduring his second tour it wasclear the attitude of the coun-try and the soldiers was chang-ing.

“The high expectations weregone,” Boozer said. “The wholeculture had changed. Therewasn’t a problem with how themen fought, but everybody feltlike it was an unwinnable war,like the politicians back homedidn’t care whether we won ornot.”

Boozer left the Army in 1971,returned to Newnan and even-tually owned and operated hisown garage and service stationbefore he sold his businessinterests in 1992 to deal withhealth concerns.

Today he is fit and well andworks when he wants. Boozeris proud of his service, but stillhas doubts over how theVietnam War was waged.

“My mother always used tosay, before you do anything,have a reason behind it,”Boozer said. “I’m not sure any-body knew the real reason wewent there. If we had it mighthave been better. And mymama always said, ‘Don’t goanywhere unless you got a wayout.’ We didn’t have that.”

A way out of Vietnam wassomething the politicians inWashington could never find.In the meantime, they keptpouring more troops intoVietnam and sending out pressreleases announcing that,according to the body count,America was winning, even asthe film clips on the eveningnews painted a different andmore gruesome picture.

Despite the rising nationalopposition to the war, manyAmericans still believed thatfighting for their country — nomatter the cause — was honor-able. While the draft keptpulling thousands into the mili-tary service each month, many,like Newnan’s David Brown Sr.,volunteered to serve.

Brown was born and raisedin Coweta County and aftergraduating from Newnan HighSchool, worked briefly at twojobs before enlisting in theArmy in September 1965.

Brown enlisted because hewanted his pick of services andduties. He chose U.S. ArmyAirborne, saying, “If I wasgoing to serve I wanted to bewith the best of the best andthat’s what the Airborne is.”After completing basic and

advanced infantry training atFt. Gordon, Ga., Brown earnedhis Airborne jump wings at Ft.Benning and joined the 82ndAirborne at Ft. Bragg, N.C.

For almost a year, Brown andthe rest of the 82nd trainednight and day for what they allknew was an eventual postingin Vietnam. Brown finally gottired of waiting and volun-teered to go to Vietnam imme-diately.

The Army granted his wishand assigned him to the 173rdAirborne Brigade in April 1967.Shortly after arriving at the173rd’s base of operation atBien Hoa, Brown spent a weekat “jungle school” and realizedthe jungle training he hadreceived in the States had notprepared him for the condi-tions in Vietnam.

The heat, insects and snakeswere different, but expected.The darkness of the thickVietnamese jungle was not.

“When you got in the junglethe growth was so thick youfelt like you couldn’t even seethe sun,” Brown said. “It wasalmost like night all the time.”

After jungle school Brownjoined his battalion at a semi-permanent encampment in thefield called a f irebase. ButBrown’s unit rarely visited thefirebase. “We were alwaysgoing somewhere,” he said.“We kidded ourselves that wewere like that TV show thatsaid, ‘Have Gun, Will Travel.’”

During one extended combatmission, Brown’s unit was inthe jungle for 52 straight days,living off the land and trackingor engaging the enemy daily.

When the unit f inallyreturned to the firebase, theirfatigues had literally rottedaway and the men weren’t inmuch better shape, physicallyor mentally. They were givennew uniforms, got to bathe andshave and were then assembledfor a hot meal in a real dininghall.

Brown said the men were sobeat up, they literally didn’tknow what to do.

“I’d been out there so long Iwas like a wild man,” Brownsaid. “I remember looking at afork and I couldn’t evenremember what to do with it. Ijust looked at it. After that longin the field it took awhile to getfeeling human again.”

After a brief rest, the unitwas sent out again. Brownfought in four major battles andremembers each vividly.

The first was at Hill 823.Hills in Vietnam were num-bered by American forcesaccording to their elevation tolet pilots know how much

U.S. broadened scope of special forces in 1964

Robin Miller J.L. Boozer David Brown Sr.

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

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

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

J.L. Boozer shortly after hejoined the Army in December1967.

See FORCES, page 10

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


VETERANS

clearance to allow. At Hill 823,Brown and his men quicklyfound themselves surroundedand fighting for their lives. Hesaid they were saved fromannihilation by the C-47 gun-ships fondly known by the sol-diers as “Puff, the MagicDragon.”

At night the planes droppedflares to light the combat zoneand then as the battle ragedpoured heavy fire on enemytroops from 40mm mini-guns.

Brown said when a C-47 leftthe area to refuel, the men heldtheir breath until the next oneshowed up.

At Hill 823, flares from the C-47s kept the scene lighted allnight as enemy soldiers keptpouring up the hill in waves.

“We fought all night long,”Brown said. “They got to with-in just a few feet of us and thenthose Puffs would show up.Those planes really saved ourrear ends that night.”

The next major battle tookplace at Hill 830. Brown’s mostvivid memory of Hill 830 isn’tthe fight, but a fellow soldiernamed Bernie.

Shortly after the soldiersarrived at the landing zone andsettled in, Brown listened asBernie spoke about his wifeand child back home and howhe couldn’t wait to get back andsee them. He never did.

“We talked and then wentour own ways and the nexttime I saw Bernie a medic wasdoing CPR on him and tryingto breathe life back into him,”Brown said. “He didn’t make itand I remember thinking howunfair it was. He had a wife andchild back home and I was sin-gle, but he got killed. It wasn’tright.”

Then it was on to the worstbattle of Brown’s tour, the fightfor Hill 875, a struggle that waslater featured in both a movieand a Discovery Channel spe-cial.

Before heading to Hill 875,Brown remembers talking to afellow Cowetan, TommyHuddleston, who was in a dif-ferent battalion of the 173rd.Brown remembers thatHuddleston kept talking abouthow anxious he was to see hiswife and child and hoped theycould get together whenHuddleston received time offfor R&R.

Instead of being reunitedwith his young family,Huddleston was killed at Hill875 and is one of the Cowetanswhose name is etched on theVietnam Veterans Memorial.

Soon after the fighting start-ed, Huddleston’s battalion wasoverrun by enemy forces nearthe top of the hill. Americanforces made several unsuccess-ful efforts to help as a hugeforce of North Vietnamese sol-diers kept pouring out of con-cealed bunkers and trenches.

Finally, Brown’s battalion wassent to take the hill. He remem-bers having to cross threeridges to reach the base of Hill875. Every step was a night-mare.

“I bet I saw more dead mencrossing those three ridgesthan a funeral director sees in alifetime,” Brown said.“Americans, Vietnamese, therewere bodies everywhere youlooked.”

When Brown’s battalionarrived at the base of Hill 875they saw that steps had beencarved going up the hill and ahandrail had been installed tomade climbing easier for theenemy.

“It was obvious they hadbeen there awhile and theywere there to stay,” Brown said.

Brown’s battalion started thegrueling march up the hill.Halfway up, they were sur-rounded and attacked from allsides. American forces finallytook the hill, but found onlydead and charred bodies ofHuddleston’s unit at the top.

During the battle, 115 mem-bers of the 173rd were killed.Another 253 were wounded.Brown was one of them, felledby a piece of shrapnel duringthe fierce fight.

After three days at a hospitalin Bien Hoa, he was sent backinto action and was still onduty in January 1968, whenNorth Vietnamese forceslaunched the Tet Offensive.Brown survived that ordealwith no further injuries and leftthe Army in September 1968.He will never forget how he feltwhen he returned to the States.

“I was all hollow on theinside,” he said. “I was numb.My heart was as hard as con-crete. I had no love, no feelings,nothing — I just wanted to for-get.”

Brown came back toNewnan, married and raised afamily and had a successfulcareer with Eastern Airlinesand later with Batesville CasketCompany. Brown said that dur-ing his 21 years at Eastern, veryfew coworkers were aware hehad even served in Vietnam.But, in recent years, he hastalked about his service and isnow a regular guest at VietnamWar classes at Newnan HighSchool.

“A few years back thingschanged and now I can talkabout it,” Brown said. “It wasn’ta popular war. But we did agood job and I finally realizedit was something to be proudof, and I am.”

FORCESContinued from page 9

U.S. broadened scope of special forces in 1964

Coweta's David Brown Sr., right, and a buddy pose with their unit flag in the field in Vietnam.

During a break between missions, David Brown Sr. writes a letter home from Vietnam.


During nine years of war inVietnam, the U.S. Air Force lost2,255 aircraft. But Air Forcecrews always knew that if theywent down, Air Force rescuecrews would soon be on theirway.

Newnan’s Jim Fogg piloted aC-130P that made 38 of thoserescues, and Fogg said they allhad one thing in common.

“Those guys would alwayssay the sweetest sound theyever heard was when they weredowned in the jungle and theyheard us say ‘don’t worry.We’re coming to get you.’”

Fogg was born and raised inBowling Green, Va. His familyhad a farm and Fogg enteredVirginia Tech in 1956 to earn adegree in agronomy. He wasalso a member of the school’sCorps of Cadets, and after hissophomore year of college,when he learned he was eligi-ble for pilot training, Foggnever gave farming another

serious thought.“Once I took my first flight I

knew I’d never go back to thefarm,” Fogg said.

Fogg entered the Air Force inJune 1960 and earned his wingsin September 1961. He flew C-124 cargo planes until 1965,when he was assigned to fly C-130s on ocean rescue missionsout of Prestwick, Scotland.Fogg and his crews picked uppilots who went down at seaand victims of boating mishaps.

At the end of 1965 Fogg wastransferred to Morón Air Basein Spain, doing the same searescue work. But by then hewanted to put his training andexperience to work in anotherlocation.

“I was hawkish about the warand so I volunteered to go toVietnam,” Fogg said. “My dadand wife and mother-in-law

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

Fogg got his wish, and onMarch 14, 1967, he flew out ofMarietta’s Dobbins Air ForceBase in a brand new C-130Pheaded for Udorn Air Base innorthern Thailand.

Fogg’s C-130P had the abilityto refuel other aircraft in flight.It was the lead aircraft in a res-cue group that consisted of theC-130P, four A-1 Skyraiders thatprovided enemy ground firesuppression during missions,and up to four “Jolly GreenGiant” helicopters.

Every day dozens of U.S.planes flew out of Udorn onmissions against NorthVietnamese targets. Fogg’sgroup was always in the airahead of the first planes, orbit-ing over the flight routes andlistening for the radio call of“Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!”that signaled a pilot in troubleand requesting assistance.

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

location,” Fogg said. “Then I’dradio ahead and say, ‘I’m com-ing to get you.’”

Fogg never knew what thenext day would bring.

“Some days would be niceand calm,” Fogg said, “and thenext day all hell would breakloose.” That’s what happened

April 30, 1967, when Fogg’sgroup responded to three sepa-rate rescue calls from F-105fighters shot down within 15minutes.

“Planes were going down sofast you couldn’t hear yourselfthink for all the ELTs (emer-gency locator transmitters)going off,” he said.

Fogg worked feverishly, vec-toring Jolly Green choppers topickup positions, keeping near-by planes and choppers refu-eled while watching out forground fire. But his group wasunable to save anyone from thethree downed planes. Someempty parachutes were foundand Fogg said he hoped thepilots were among the POWsreleased at the war’s end.

The day wasn’t a totalwashout, though. When an A-1Skyraider was shot up and hadto make an emergency landing,Fogg found a suitable strip at aspot called Plain de Jars, usedflares to light the runway forthe pilot and watched as thecrippled plane ran out of fuelon landing. The pilot wasquickly picked up by a JollyGreen and returned safely tobase.

“We lost some people thatday,” Fogg said. “So when yousave one you’re always happy.My job was to concentrate onthe guy who got shot down.That was my whole world. Torescue or recover him.”

After three months at Udorn,Fogg was transferred to TuyHoa, Vietnam, and followed thesame routine.

Fogg flew 38 rescue missions.On one of those, his C-130 actu-ally picked up the downedpilot. It happened on Jan. 4,1968. Fogg was headed to patrolan area over the Gulf of Tonkinwhen he heard a “Mayday!” callfrom the wingman of an F-100pilot who had gone down ineastern Cambodia.

Fogg called for another planeto fly his route and headed for

Cambodia.When he arrived at the crash

site, Fogg saw the orange andwhite parachute and spottedthe downed pilot at the end ofa short, poorly-maintainedairstrip. Fogg knew he wouldbarely have room to land butmade it down, taxied to the endof the runway and picked upthe pilot. The runway was toonarrow to make a normal turnso Fogg had to alternate hispropellers between forwardand reverse thrust, going back-ward and forward to turnaround, like a car turningaround on a one-lane road.

During the entire maneuverthe downed pilot was scream-ing in Fogg’s ear to watch outfor the enemy gun battery 300yards away that had shot himdown.

Fogg barely managed to clearthe treetops on takeoff butdelivered the pilot safely to TuyHoa and went directly to hisnext mission. The incidentitself was fairly routine. Whathappened later was anythingbut.

Fogg left the Air Force inearly 1969 and signed on as apilot with Western Air Lines.The timing couldn’t have beenworse. Just a few months later,Western mechanics went onstrike and the airline fur-loughed 204 of its newestpilots, including Fogg.

Two years and four monthspassed before Fogg was calledback to work. He remembersbeing at Los AngelesInternational waiting for ashuttle bus that carried crewmembers to the terminal whenhe noticed another pilot sneak-ing looks at him.

Fogg saw the other pilot’suniform was well-worn, anindication that he was senior toFogg and had remained onflight status while Fogg hadbeen furloughed.

Cowetans in the action with Air Force in Vietnam

Jim Fogg Edward Brinton George Willix

Jim Fogg gives a thumbs up in the cockpit of a C-130 during hisVietnam service.

While in Vietnam, Jim Fogg served with the 39th Air Rescue andRecovery Squadron.

Newnan's Jim Fogg in front of a C-130P he flew in Vietnam. Thismodel of the C-130 was capable of refueling other aircraft in flight.

After he returned to the States from regular duty in Vietnam, JimFogg often flew C-141s like this one back and forth to Vietnam, car-rying troops and sometimes caskets of fallen soldiers. See AIR FORCE, page 11


VETERANS

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Many gave.Many gave.Some gave all.Some gave all.

We give thanks to our We give thanks to our Vietnam heroes.Vietnam heroes.

The other pilot f inallywalked over, said Fogg lookedfamiliar and asked if they hadmet. They finally realized theyhad been in Vietnam at thesame time.

The other pilot said to Fogg,“Are you the guy who pickedme up when I was shot downover Cambodia?”

Fogg realized who the pilotwas and said, “Yeah, I pickedyou up, and if I had realizedyou’d come to Western AirLines and be higher than me onthe seniority list I’d have leftyour a__ in the jungle.”

The two had a good laughand Fogg and the rescued pilot,Jim Pollard, became closefriends.

Fogg flew for Western andDelta Air Lines until he retiredin 1998. He has lived in CowetaCounty for 22 years and says hewill always be proud of hisservice in Vietnam.

“There’s something extreme-ly rewarding about savinganother man’s life, and I hadthe privilege of doing that forone year in Vietnam.”

Jim Fogg’s rescue groupincluded “Jolly Green Giant”helicopters that were used topick up downed pilots orrecover their remains. JollyGreen Giants that flew rescuemissions often carried a com-bat photographer like Coweta’sEdward Brinton.

“We’d go to the scene of acrash and photograph thewreckage or take a picture ofthe pilot being rescued,”Brinton said. “When we pickedone up, it was a good flight.”

Brinton was born and raisedin Jonesboro, Ark. After highschool he entered ArkansasState College to study physicaleducation, but before graduat-ing, Brinton left school andjoined the Air Force in January1951.

Brinton had hoped for flightduty but was grounded by ahearing problem and the AirForce sent him to Alaska towork as an athletic specialist.

Brinton’s older brotherowned a photo studio inJonesboro. Brinton workedthere during high school andhad picked up enough photog-raphy skills to use discardedmilitary photo equipment toset up a photo lab at Cold Bay.

The Air Force was soimpressed they sent him to theAir Force photo school atLowry Air Force Base nearDenver. During four years atLowry, Brinton not only sharp-ened his photo skills, but helearned how to fudge the hear-ing portion of the flight physi-cal and was granted flight sta-tus.

Not long afterward, he wasback in Alaska photographingevery military runway in thestate.

“I don’t know how many run-ways there are in Alaska but it’sa lot,” Brinton said. “I saw themall.”

In the spring of 1968, Brintonwas assigned to Vietnam andstationed at Danang Air Base.He was an E-6 (TechnicalSergeant) and was the rankingNCO (non-commissioned offi-cer) of the 600th photosquadron.

Brinton photographed bombcraters at U.S. bases left byrocket and mortar attacks thatwere almost a daily occurrence.He said Vietnamese civiliansworking at American basesoften came out to view thedamage and American com-manders suspected theyreported the damage toVietnamese troops so theycould adjust their fire accord-ingly before the next attack.

Brinton photographedbombed infrastructure so U.S.commanders could assess thedamage and determine if futurestrikes were necessary.

He also flew regular rescuemissions in a Jolly Green Giant.Brinton’s job was to photo-graph both the downed pilots

and the aircraft wreckage. Healso flew over the Ho Chi MinhTrail to photograph enemytroop movements and supplyshipments.

Brinton said Vietcong mortarand rocket attacks against theDanang base were small androutine except for one largeattack that blew up the fueldepot. His closest brush withdisaster, though, came from anAmerican warplane.

Brinton was ordered to ride achopper up to 10,000 feet tophotograph the entire runwayat Danang. Brinton knew therunway was too long to be cap-tured in one shot, but his com-mander insisted and he tookoff.

While the chopper hoveredat 10,000 feet, all aboard hearda roar and were rocked by aconcussion wave as anAmerican jet fighter flew by,barely missing the helicopter.

“We almost got creamed,”Brinton said. “I got back andtold them to find another wayto shoot the runway.”

After “twenty three years, sixmonths and two days” of activeduty, Brinton left the serviceand began an 11-year careerwith Eastman Kodak. He thenran his own photo business foryears.

Brinton is proud of his AirForce service but is not a fan ofthe action in Vietnam. “It was adumb war,” he said. “It couldn’tbe won the way we fought it.”

All the Air Force planes thatflew over Vietnam requiredfuel, but the planes that flew athigh altitude also required liq-uid nitrogen to cool the radarequipment and liquid oxygenthat could be converted back toa gas for breathing.

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

Willix grew up in AlexandriaBay in upstate New York. Aftergraduating from AlexandriaBay High School he headedstraight for the military, enlist-ing in the U.S. Air Force inSeptember 1964.

“I was ready to see some new

places,” Willix said. “And I likedthe Air Force so I signed up.Nobody was thinking about awar in Vietnam much at thetime.”

After basic training atLackland Air Force Base in SanAntonio, Tx., Willix went toChanute Air Force Base inIllinois for technical training incryogenics, a branch of physicsdealing with the productionand effects of extremely lowtemperatures.

“When they told me I wasgoing into cryogenics, I didn’teven know how to spell it,much less what it was,” Willixsaid. “But they taught me.”

Willix worked in plants —including mobile units for fieldoperations — that took oxygenout of the atmosphere, com-pressed it, then condensed itback into liquid form that tookup less space until it was usedin gas form.

“People used to say whereverwe went we sucked all the oxy-gen out of the air,” Willix said.“And I guess we did.”

After training, Willix wassent to Hickham Field inHawaii. While there he got toservice a very special plane: AirForce One.

“President [Lyndon] Johnsoncame through several times onhis way to Vietnam and otherplaces,” Willix said. “I was theonly one with top securityclearance so I was responsiblefor working on the plane. I sawthe president several timeswhen he came through.”

After Hawaii, Willix made abrief stop at Clark Air ForceBase in the Philippines, thenmoved on to Mactan Island,where he spent eight monthsputting together a new liquidoxygen and nitrogen facility asa huge new air base was beingbuilt to service the growingnumber of planes needing to beresupplied on the way to andfrom Vietnam.

In September 1967, Willixwas assigned to Vietnam andposted at Bien Hoa Air Base,about 20 miles northwest ofSaigon. When Willix arrived,Bien Hoa was the busiest air-port in the world, handlingmore landings and takeoffsthan the runnerup, Chicago’s O’Hare Airport. Bien Hoa had afacility that produced liquidoxygen and nitrogen in largequantities.

The facility was bordered bya three-foot thick wall designedto withstand a blast. Not toprotect the workers from theenemy, but to protect the restof the base in case there was anexplosion at the liquid oxygenfacility.

“It wouldn’t burn,” Willixsaid. “But it would explode andthey built that wall to keep therest of the base safe in case ithappened.” The Bien Hoa basewas a major enemy target andWillix said that every dayaround 4 p.m., up to 25 enemy

AIR FORCEContinued from page 10

Cowetans in the action with United States Air Force while stationed in Vietnam

During his Vietnam service, this is Edward Brinton's photo lab inDanang after taking shrapnel in a rocket and mortar attack.

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

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

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

shells were fired into the hugefacility.

“They didn’t usually hit any-thing,” Willix said. “But theywere always firing at us. Youcould set your watch by it.”

One day the usual air raidwarning sounded and Willixordered his crew into an airraid bunker just a few feetaway from the manufacturingplant. Willix pulled the plug toshut the plant down and head-ed for the bunker, but beforehe got there an artillery shelllanded in the walled com-pound, knocked Willix to hisknees and blew him throughthe bunker entrance.

When he recovered from theblast, Willix found a largepiece of shrapnel embedded inthe back of his flak jacket.

“If I hadn’t been wearingthat flak jacket it would havebeen really bad,” Willix said.“God was there. That’s forsure.”

After that close call, thingsrocked along until Jan. 31, 1968,when the tactical situationchanged. On Jan. 30, com-manders received intelligencereports indicating a majorattack against the base wasimminent. Army troops couldnot get there to defend thebase until 3:30 a.m. on Jan. 31.

At midnight, Willix andsome other airmen were sta-tioned 10 feet apart around thebase perimeter fence, givenrifles and told to get ready tofight.

“They knew we weren’tinfantry but a commanderasked if I’d had basic trainingand I said yes,” Willix said.“That commander said theywere going to supply us withplenty of ammo and keep thearea lit with flares and said, ‘Ifanything moves out there, lightit up.’”

At 3 a.m. North VietnameseArmy regulars and Vietcongguerrillas attacked in force.Willix and his fellow defend-ers on the perimeter startedshooting and didn’t stop.Minutes after the attack began,U.S. planes joined the fight,dropping napalm on advancingenemy forces. The napalm fellso close to Willix it singed hiseyebrows.

“There were too many ofthem to count,” Willix said.“The enemy was everywhere.With the flares you could seethem but they could see you,too, and they kept shootingand so did we. You’d just popup and fire and run throughyour ammo and get somemore and do it again. It washard. It was a long night,something you don’t forget.”

Enemy casualties were mas-sive and included some sur-prises. The next day, Americanforces discovered that nine ofthe dead enemy attackers wereVietnamese who worked ascivilians at Bien Hoa.

“That told me they weregoing to go with whoever theythought was going to win thewar,” Willix said. “And theydidn’t think it was us.”

Willix was discharged inSeptember 1968 and worked inthe construction and golf busi-ness before settling into longexecutive careers withGreyhound Bus Lines andUniversal Forest Products.

Willix moved to Cowetanine years ago and said henever regretted his service butwas disappointed over the waythe war was handled and theway returning military person-nel were treated.

“We didn’t get any paradesor waving flags or any of that,”he said. “But we did our partand when you’re in the mili-tary that’s what you do. I’mproud of what I did and thepeople I served with. I’m glad Iwent and I’d do it again. But Ithink if military commandershad been in control it wouldhave been over a lot quicker.”

George Willix at Bien Hoa Vietnam with a tank of liquid oxygen thatwas 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 sever-al units like this to produce enough material for all the flights,George Willix said.

http://www.lindseysrealtors.com


VETERANS


Even the most unpopularwars produce heroes. TheVietnam War was no excep-tion.

Those whose militaryactions are deemed exceptionalby any measure are awardedthe Medal of Honor.

The Medal of Honor is thehighest military decorationawarded by the United Statesgovernment and is awarded bythe president in the name ofCongress. The medal is award-ed to members of the UnitedStates Armed Forces who dis-tinguish themselves through“conspicuous gallantry andintrepidity at the risk of his orher life above and beyond thecall of duty while engaged in anaction against an enemy of theUnited States.”

According to militaryrecords, only 3,468 U.S. militarypersonnel have been awardedthe nation’s highest militaryhonor.

The Vietnam War produced246 Medal of Honor recipients.Amazingly, two of them sharedthe same hometown: Newnan,Ga. This rare distinction waseven noticed by PresidentLyndon Johnson on Jan. 16,1969, during the Medal ofHonor ceremony that includedAir Force Col. Joe M. Jacksonand Marine Corps Major

Stephen Pless.When he presented the

Medals of Honor to Pless andJackson, Johnson said, “Theremust be something in the waterdown in Newnan.”

Jackson graduated fromNewnan High School in 1940and joined the military in 1941.He wanted to be a pilot but wasnot allowed into flight trainingat the time because he only hada high school diploma.

Instead, he became an air-craft mechanic, and said heenjoyed the work. Jackson saidafter the U.S. entered WorldWar II, pilots were desperatelyneeded. After passing a specialtest, he was admitted to theArmy Air Corps and assignedto pilot training.

Jackson earned his wings in1943 and served in severalstateside positions. At the endof World War II, he consideredcoming back to Newnan andstarting a business. But the jobmarket was poor and he decid-ed to make a career of the mili-tary. By 1951, the U.S. wasengaged in the Korean Conflict,during which Jackson flew 107combat missions in his F-84fighter.

In the early 1960s, Jacksonwas stationed in Albany, Ga.,with a detachment of U-2reconnaissance planes, high-altitude aircraft used to maketop-secret photos of suspectedenemy bases or equipment.

Jackson was part of the U-2operation that photographedSoviet missiles installed inCuba. The missiles precipitatedthe 1962 Cuban missile crisis,during which the U.S. andSoviet Union came perilouslyclose to war before Soviet lead-ers capitulated to PresidentJohn F. Kennedy’s demandsthat the missiles be removed.

Jackson served in Europe andwas then assigned to duty inVietnam. Instead of jets, heflew C-123 cargo planes, butJackson said he didn’t considerit a step down.

“It was a fun plane to fly,” hesaid. “It was not a letdown atall. It was exciting duty.”

It was especially exciting onMay 12, 1968, Mother’s Day,when Jackson flew the missionfor which he earned the Medalof Honor.

At the time of the mission,Jackson was flying routinetransport runs between campsand airstrips, and at the time ofthe rescue mission, was on oneof his biannual flight checks.

When Jackson took off onMay 12, a U.S. base at KhamDuc was under heavy attack byNorth Vietnamese troops.

Americans had taken heavycasualties and the base wasbeing evacuated on May 11 and12. What was believed to be thefinal plane carrying troops outhad just left when it was

discovered that three membersof a combat control team hadbeen left behind.

By then, the airfield at KhamDuc was ablaze with U.S. air-craft that had been shot downduring the evacuation.Hundreds of civilians anddozens of soldiers had alreadybeen killed. Going back for thelast three men was so risky, vol-unteers were called for.

“I was the closest one thereso I said I’d do it,” Jackson said.“There wasn’t really a choice.So we got to work.”

Jackson was flying overheadwhen a previous attempt topick up the three men failed, sohe knew exactly where theywere and where he needed toland to have the best chance ofgetting the men aboard and outof danger.

As he approached, Jacksonbanked the plane to line upwith the runway and droppedfull flaps. The C-123 went into asteep dive, dropping at 4,000feet per minute, eight timesfaster than a normal cargoplane’s rate of descent.

He told his crew exactlywhat needed to be done andthen headed directly towardthe inferno where enemy

forces waited with small arms,mortars, light and heavy auto-matic weapons and recoillessrifle f ire. The camp wasengulfed in flames, and ammu-nition dumps were continuous-ly exploding, littering the run-way with debris.

Eight aircraft had beendestroyed and wreckage fromthree of them littered the run-way, reducing the usable lengthof the one-mile runway to 2,200feet. The only photo of a Medalof Honor action known to existis of Jackson’s landing on thatrunway. It was taken by anotherpilot circling the airstrip whileJackson was on the ground.

Although fully aware of thelikely failure of a rescueattempt, Jackson landed theunarmed cargo plane nearwhere the combat control teamwas hiding.

Jackson watched the threemen sprint like Olympic run-ners across the airfield andclimb aboard. While on theground, his aircraft was the tar-get of intense hostile fire. A 122mm rocket landed in front ofthe plane’s nose, skidded, brokein half and lay there sizzling. Itwas a dud and didn’t explode.

The plane was only on theground for one minute whileboarding the troops.Miraculously, it was only afterthe plane taxied away that mor-tars began falling where theplane had stopped.

“It took them that long to gettheir bearings,” Jackson said.“We got out just in time.”

Asked later why he took therisk when a prior rescueattempt failed and the oddswere overwhelmingly againsthim and his crew, Jackson said,“Because it was the right thingto do.”

Jackson said he didn’t informhis crew about his decision tomake the rescue effort until themission was under way, butknew they understood the situ-ation.

“They had no objection,”Jackson said. “At the time, theydidn’t say it to me, but theyknew what had to be done aswell as me.”

Jackson, along with MarineCorps Major Stephen Pless —also of Newnan — was present-ed with the Medal of Honor byPresident Lyndon Johnson in aWhite House ceremony on Jan.16, 1969.

Stephen Pless was bornStephen Pollard in Newnan onSept. 6, 1939. When Pless’ moth-er, Nancy Lassetter Pollard,divorced, she moved to Atlantaand remarried. Her husband,Berlin Pless, adopted Stephenand his name was changed.

Stephen Pless graduated fromGeorgia Military Academy inCollege Park and joined the U.S.Marine Corps in 1959.

While a senior at Georgia

Military Academy, Pless enlist-ed in the U.S. Marine Corpsand served with the 1st MotorTransport Battalion in Atlanta.After recruit training andadvanced combat training Plessserved as an artillery surveyorwith the 10th Marine Regiment,2nd Marine Division, untilSeptember 1958.

Pless then qualified for flighttraining at Pensacola, Fla., andwas commissioned a secondlieutenant on Sept. 16, 1959.

After several overseas assign-ments, including a 1962-63 tourin Vietnam, Pless returned toPensacola as a flight instructor.

In March 1967, Pless returnedto Vietnam, serving as AssistantOperations Officer, VMO-6,Marine Aircraft Group 36, 1stMarine Aircraft Wing. Plessflew 780 combat missions inVietnam. He was awarded theMedal of Honor for his heroicactions while rescuing four sol-diers trapped by heavy enemyfire at Quang Ngai on Aug. 19,1967.

Pless’ medal of honor cita-tion describes the events ofthat day best. It says:

“For conspicuous gallantryand intrepidity at the risk of hislife above and beyond the callof duty while serving as a heli-copter gunship pilot attachedto Marine ObservationSquadron Six in action againstenemy forces near Quang Ngai.

“Captain Pless was flying hisgunship while escorting otherhelicopters. He monitored anemergency call on his headsetand learned that four Americansoldiers were being over-whelmed by a large Viet Congforce.

“He flew to the beach wherethe soldiers were stranded andquickly noted that 30 to 50enemy soldiers were advancingin the open. Some of the enemywere bayoneting and beatingthe downed Americans.

“Captain Pless launched apersonal assault on the enemyforce, killing or woundingmany with his guns and rocketswhile forcing the remainderinto a nearby tree line. Hisrocket and strafing runs weremade at such low level that hehad to fly through debris “cre-ated by explosions from hisown rockets.

“When one of the woundedAmericans gestured for assis-tance, Captain Pless maneu-vered his helicopter and land-ed, putting himself and his gun-ship between the wounded andthe enemy. His crew thenassisted the wounded andrushed them to the helicopter.

“Meanwhile, the enemy con-centrated their full fire poweron the helicopter, and time andagain, the Viet Cong attemptedto rush the aircraft. At times,they were within three feet ofthe gunship before theAmericans forced them toretreat.

“Once the wounded soldiersand the Marine crew were safe-ly aboard the riddled helicop-ter, Captain Pless attempted alift-off. Before the gunshipbecame safely airborne, theoverloaded aircraft settled fourtimes into the water.

“Captain Pless’ “extraordi-nary heroism, coupled with hisoutstanding flying skill, pre-vented the annihilation of thetiny force.”

After his f inal tour ofVietnam, Pless returned to theStates and was namedAdministrative Assistant of theOfficer Candidate School at theNaval Air Station, Pensacola,Fla.

Pless died while driving hismotorcycle across the bridgeleading from Pensacola toPensacola Beach. The bridgewas a drawbridge with a centerspan that opened horizontallyto allow large ships to pass.

As Pless approached thebridge’s center span, he did notnotice until too late that thespan was open. Pless wasunable to stop in time and hismotorcycle went off the bridgeand into Pensacola Bay. After aseven-hour search, diverspulled Pless’ body from thewater.

Pless died on July 20, 1969 —the same day American astro-nauts f irst set foot on themoon. At the time of his death,Pless, just 29, was the youngestMajor in the U.S. MarineCorps.

In early 1969, Maj. Pless andCol. Jackson were honored bylocal citizens and given thekeys to the city of Newnan, aswell as numerous other gifts.

The Newnan National GuardArmory was subsequentlyrenamed the Jackson-PlessArmory in honor of both menand dedicated in the late 1970s.

Two Coweta men in Vietnam earned Medal of Honor

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

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

Military officials salute during ceremonies honor-ing Col. Joe Jackson and Maj. Stephen Pless in1969 at Newnan High’s Drake Stadium.

Photos courtesy Bob ShapiroMaj. Stephen Pless, left, and Col. Joe Jackson, right, pose with a local Boy Scout during ceremonieshonoring 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 cere-monies honoring Jackson and Pless after they wereawarded the medal of Honor in 1969.

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

Marine Corps Major Stephen Pless rides ina parade in Newnan in early 1969. Pless andAir Force Col. Joe M. Jackson were honoredby local citizens and given the keys to thecity of Newnan after they were given theMedal of Honor by Pres. Lyndon Johnsonfor their service in Vietnam.

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

Dignitaries gather for ceremonies at Newnan High’s Drake Stadiumhonoring hometown heroes and Medal of Honor recipients AirForce Col. Joe M. Jackson and Marine Corps Major Stephen Plessin 1969.

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Long, Gary W.Long, JohnLong, Wiley Glenn Jr.Lowe, James RobertLowe, James R. “Bob”Lowe, Joe FeneLowe, William H.Luff, MikeLuscher, AlbertLuttrell, Les, Dr.Luttrell, EddieLyon, Julius WayneMansour, Ellis A.McAdow, Richard N.McBride, Jack B.McCrary, WalterMcDonald, GeneMcGee, TonyMcGuffey, Jerry OrrickMcDonald, DaleMcDonald, GeneMcGaha, Donald R.McGee, James A. “Tony”McGowan, Arthur G.McGuigan, JoeMcKnight, Paul RaymondMcKoon, Guy WesleyMcKoy, Carlton Jr. McKoy, Fred R.McLendon, Charles S. Jr.McMillan, Jon V.McNaughton, James D. “Dave”McNear, Clarence Charles “Chuck”Mack, JimMack, Kay W.Madaris, EddieMalcolm, Jerry LeeMaloof, Michael J. Jr.Mapp, Rickey FrankMarchman, Derrell RogersMarkby, David L.Marshall, Larry EarlMartin, Carl C. JrMartin, TomMartindale, ChetMasdon, Walter “Gene”Massingale, Nelson W.Mattingly, James L. “Jim”Meade, Richard J.Meeks, Douglas E.Menese, Anthony W.Merrell, Robert DanielMeyerhoff, Roger JayMidas, Michael T. Jr. “Mike”Middleton, Jack E. Sr.Migneault, Frank E.Miller, Anthony “Tony”Miller, Burt Robert III “Robin”Miller, GaryMiller, Homer P.Miller, Joe E. Jr.Miller, John E.Miller, Richard C.Milner, Richard W.Mims, James O. IIIMims, Kenneth Bryant Jr.Minton, William Elliott “Bill”Miolen, James A.Mitchell, BobbyMitchell, Clyde L.Mitchell, John “Jack” IIMoat, William R.Moody, BillMoody, Larry J.Moor, EdMoore, JerryMoore, John W.Moore, Thomas F.Moore, WayneMorgan, Gerald LeeMosley, DonaldMusick, RonaldNation, James “Larry”Neely, Adrien M.Neil, ArthurNesbitt, Realus E. Jr.Newton, Robert D.Nieto, JesseNorton, Walter FerrellO’Dell, Patrick J.Oles, Stephen R. Sr.Ollis, ElomOlsen, CharlesOndovchik, LawrenceO’Neal, DavidOverton, JerryOwens, Jerry F.Pandy, John L.Panepento, Jim

Parham, GaryParker, Edward E.Parker, Steven A.Partridge, Robert E.Patterson, J.C.Payne, Herbert M.Payton, Alton M.Payton, Larry J.Payton, RonaldPence, Thomas E.Perry, Norman R.Peterson, LelandPetry, Arthur B.Phillips, Edward L.Phillips, LarryPike, Thomas M.Pleasant, TommyPope, Arthur LauriePope, L. AllenPortanova, AnthonyPosta, Charles D.Powell, James EdwardPriest, Tony BoydPrescott, Clyde V.Price, Jack C.Pruitt, DalePurdy, William C. “Bill”Purgason, Robert D.Pye, William O.Ragan, William Thomas “Tom”Ragland, Alfred Jr.Ragland, Alfred M.Rajani, RussellRalston, RogerRansby, RoyRansby, StanfordRaptis, Robert ClaudeReece, FrankReeves, Jerry F.Reeves, Larry A.Reeves, Willie Jr.Rehman, Donald I.Reynolds, Charles R. “Butch”Richardson, Paul M.Richey, JohnnieRiggs, Rodney F.Robbins, Howard K. “Rob”Roberts, Charles L.Robinson, JoeRogers, James H.Rollins, Paul E. JrRonningen, Jerome O.Rose, KennethRosser, KennethRush, Finley LincolnRussell, Kenneth M.Sandlin, David E.Schaefer, HarrySchlicker, James C.Schock, Robert Joseph Jr.Scogin, James A.Scott, David GlennSecor, GeneSecor, John E.Sells, James O.Seney, Gary B.Sewell, RandyShaffer, Richard “Dick”Shapiro, BobShaul, Percy G.Shaw, JackShelby, David C. Jr.Shell, Jerrel M.Shelnutt, DonaldShelnutt, James T.Shelton, WilliamSherrer, Melvin R.Shipman, Herman Samuel “Sam”Sibley, Michael A.Sims, Harold R.Skinner, John H.Slaton, ArchieSlaton, TerrySlay, BobSmith, CharlieSmith, Charles W.Smith, Donald J.Smith, E. SteveSmith, Eugene C. “Gene”Smith, HaroldSmith, Jerry LynnSmith, RaifordSmith, Richard H.Smith, RobertSmith, Robert LeeSmith, Roger D.Smith, Steven C.Snell, Cecil L.Snelling, DannySondey, Michael F.

Spates, James T.Spencer, Larry L.Spivey, Benjamin G.Spradlin, Dale McGeeSpradlin, JimSpradlin, James M.Spratlin, James E. “Pete”Spruck, Robert A.Stancill, William Ronald Sr. “Ronnie”Starnes, WilliamSteele, DoyleSteele, Harry R.Stender, DickStephens, AlanStephens, James H.Stevens, Donald C.Stewart, Norman LeeStewart, OtisStill, 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, DaveTaldion, DevlinTanner, VicTarleton, Thomas W.Teagle, Willie E. “Chip”Teller, Robert W. Jr.Tenney, William BoydTerry, Homer T.Thomasson, Dr. James A. Jr.Thompson, David RichardThompson, James Lamar IIThompson, RonThompson, Thomas Richard “Tommy”Tillery, William IrvinTinch, Johnny LeeTingle, RobertTodd, Joseph P.Tokarsky, WilliamTracey, RonTracy, JohnTurner, Fred A.Valentine, JerryValentino, KentVann, David B.Varnadore, Morris L.Vaught, ArtVereen, K. F.VonBerge, Gerald C.Wahoske, Randall “Randy”Walker, James Nolen “Jimmy”Walker, Paul RaymondWallace, William “Bill”Walls, C. RaymondWalls, GaryWalter, Karl F.Ward, Robert M.Waters, GeorgeWatkiss, PhilWatson, Lee H.Weikle, Robert L.Weinig, JohnWheeler, Charles CochranWhisenhunt, JerryWhite, AlvinWhite, JenningsWhite, Marshall LamarWilbert, BillWienand, Bernard J.lWilhite, John C.Williams, CharlesWilliams, John B.Williams, Thomas E.Williams, Tim. CWillix, George H. Sr.Wilson, Charles E. “Chuck”Wilson, Roy DanielWinterrath, RogerWolcott, Carl E.Wood, CharlesWood, Oliver L.Wood, RobertWoodruff, Thomas F.Woods, James C.Word, William F. “Bill”Wortham, Larry B.Yeager, Charles M.Yeager, Robert L.York, AlvinYoung, John R.Youngblood, Jack T.Zitterich, Michael

The Newnan Times-Herald joins the citizens of Coweta County in saying “Th ank 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 whoserved on active duty in Vietnam between 1961 and 1975.



VETERANS

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Anyone who lived in Americaduring the Vietnam War felt thehuge impact the struggle hadon the nation.

From the way the newsmedia covered the fighting, ittoo often seemed like the onlypeople back home supportingthe troops were their comradesin uniform. Almost daily, thecountry was swamped withpictures of huge antiwarprotests. Film of every so-called American atrocity inVietnam was aired nightly onthe three American TV net-works, always without contextor a word of explanation fromthose involved.

Photos of San Francisco“flower children” droppingdaisies into military rifles atantiwar protests became acliché for the crowd thatchanted “Make Love, Not War.”A small minority of Vietnamveterans even organized toprotest the war.

Meanwhile, Hollywoodcelebrities found a way to turntragedy, suffering and sacrificeinto box office gold. Amongveterans then and now, nonewas more despised than JaneFonda, who went to NorthVietnam, posed on a NorthVietnamese antiaircraft gunand made radio broadcasts inwhich she called Americanmilitary and political officials“war criminals.”

But away from America’smajor media centers, manycommunities backed thetroops that went to fight anddie in Vietnam. None wasmore supportive than CowetaCounty.

All during the war, troopsliving in or passing throughCoweta were accorded the dig-nity and respect their effortand sacrifice had earned. Andthe Coweta community didn’tjust pay lip service to support-ing the troops. Cowetans tookaction to show their respectfor those fighting half a worldaway.

In March 1968, citizens ofNewnan and Coweta Countyofficially “adopted” the 132nd

Helicopter Company and the16th Transportation Corps,then forming at Ft. Benning fordeployment to Vietnam.

Local officials traveled to Ft.Benning to meet unit com-manders and troops. A fewweeks later, more than 3,500locals hosted a barbecue andcelebrated the adoption withceremonies at the NewnanNational Guard Armory andthe Newnan-Coweta Airport.

The unit flew some of itshelicopters from Ft. Benning toNewnan to show Cowetans theequipment they would be fly-ing in Vietnam.

Once deployed in Vietnam,members of the unit sent back

a picture showing a sign in theunit’s company area pointingto Newnan, Ga. When the heli-copter unit adopted an entireorphanage at An Tan, Vietnam,Cowetans adopted the facility,too, and showered the orphan-age with cash and gifts for thechildren.

Former Coweta SchoolsSuperintendent Bobby Welchwas involved in the local adop-tion ceremonies. At the time,he said Newnan was “a verypatriotic place."

That never changed. As partof the 2011 Veterans Musteroccasion, a ceremony will beheld Oct. 23 to recognize the132nd Helicopter Unit and 16th

Transportation Detachment.Some surviving members ofthe unit are expected to attend.

The Vietnam War produced246 Medal of Honor recipients.Two of them shared the samehometown: Newnan, Ga. Thisrare distinction was evennoticed by President LyndonJohnson on Jan. 16, 1969, duringthe Medal of Honor ceremonythat included Air Force Col.Joe M. Jackson and MarineCorps Major Stephen Pless.

Not long after being present-ed with the nation’s highestmilitary honor, Maj. Pless andCol. Jackson were honored byCoweta citizens and given thekeys to the city of Newnan, as

well as numerous other gifts.The Newnan National Guard

Armory was subsequentlyrenamed the Jackson-PlessArmory in honor of both menand dedicated in the late 1970s.

In 1988, Cowetans killed inVietnam were honored with aplaque on the Coweta CountyCourthouse. The event wasattended by political and mili-tary dignitaries from Cowetaand across the state, includingGeorgia Secretary of State MaxCleland, who became a tripleamputee while serving inVietnam.

A similar memorial honoringCowetans killed in Vietnamwas erected at the Veterans

Memorial Plaza at Newnan’scity park at the corner ofJackson Street and TempleAvenue when the plaza wasdedicated in 2009.

Throughout the VietnamWar, The Newnan Times-Herald carried stories from thebattlefront and often includedpictures sent back home fromsoldiers serving abroad. One ofthem depicted Lt. John R.Lockard of Newnan shaving inthe field in 1970 while servingnear Song Be, Vietnam.

Lockard remembers the pic-ture that his mother, HazelLockard, who still callsNewnan home, saved for him.He also remembers the localattitude, then and now.

“Newnan is very special,”Lockard said. “It had alwaysbeen a very patriotic place. Inmany ways it reminds me ofsmall New England towns thatstill revere the military tradi-tion going back to theAmerican Revolution.

“Newnan is among the spe-cial pockets of patriotismacross the country. In all ourcountry’s wars, the Southeasthas never deserted the troops,and that was always true ofNewnan.”

Lockard served in the Armyfor 23 years before retiring asLt. Col. in 1991 and settling inColumbia, S.C. After leavingthe Army he led the ROTCprogram at the University ofSouth Carolina for three years.

John Lockard’s father, ClaireLockard, is another Cowetamilitary success story. He wasamong the first wave of U.S.soldiers to set foot on UtahBeach during the NormandyInvasion on June 6, 1944. AfterWorld War II Claire Lockardhad a long career with the mili-tary and the CIA. ClaireLockard was elected Coweta’sVeteran of the Year for 2006.

When the VietnamMemorial Moving Wall comesto Coweta County Oct. 20-23,The Wall, and visitors whocome to pay their respects toVietnam’s fallen, will feel rightat home.

Cowetans supported the Vietnam troops

Among dignitaries on hand during the Memorial Day 1988 dedication of the Vietnam Memorial Plaque at the Coweta County Courthouseare, from left, David Stripling, G.D. Hendrix and Secretary of State Max Cleland.

Newnan’s John Lockard is shown later in his militarycareer.

This photo sent to Newnan by the U.S. Armyran in the April 1, 1970, edition of The NewnanTimes-Herald. It depicts Newnan’s Lt. JohnLockard shaving at a spot on Nui Ba RaMountain near Song Be, Vietnam. At the time,Lockard was serving with the U.S. Army’s 12thCavalry.

16 Jefferson Street • Newnan, GA770-253-1576 • times-herald.com

“We will always remember.We will always be proud.

We will always be prepared,so we may always be free.”

– Ronald Reagan

http://www.westgagastro.com


VETERANS

In the spring of 2011, theCoweta Commission onVeterans Affairs (CVA) beganmaking plans for its secondannual Veterans Muster. Sincethe U.S. Congress had justdeclared 2011 as the official 50thanniversary of the beginning ofthe Vietnam War, the CVA,which organizes and promotesthe Veterans Muster, decided tofocus the 2011 event on local vet-erans who had served inVietnam.

As part of that effort,

arrangements were made tobring the Vietnam VeteransMemorial Traveling Wall, a half-size replica of the VietnamVeterans Memorial inWashington, D.C., to Coweta.

The memorial, known as “TheWall That Heals,” will be on dis-play at the Coweta CountyFairgrounds from Oct. 20-23 asthe centerpiece of a week ofevents that begin on Oct. 16.

The Newnan Times-Heraldsupports the 2011 Veterans

Muster and, during the past 14weeks, has presented a seriesdesigned to explain America’sinvolvement in Vietnam throughstories told by some of the localveterans who served there.

But The Newnan Times-Herald realizes that a majority ofthe men and women who servedin America’s military from 1961to 1975 — designated as theVietnam War Era by Congress —did not serve overseas inVietnam. We also realize that nomatter their branch of service,

no matter where they served andno matter their military duty, allwho served during the Vietnamera played a vital role in ourcountry’s national defense and,in many cases, served in rolesdirectly supporting the fightingin Vietnam.

Their service and sacrificedeserve the thanks and gratitudeof a grateful nation and commu-nity. The foundation of ournation’s military greatness is notbuilt solely on the sacrifice of

those who fight in foreign wars.Our military is great because ofthe combined efforts of all whoserve with dignity and honorwherever their country sendsthem.

The Newnan Times-Heraldwishes to take this opportunityto say “Well Done” and “ThankYou For Your Service” to eachand every member of ournation’s military who servedanywhere around the globe dur-ing the Vietnam War Era.

Cowetans supported the Vietnam troops

By STEVE QUESINBERRYSpecial to Times-Herald

The year 1968 has beendescribed as the year that“rocked the world.”

Historians would call it a“watershed” year — a periodthat marks a turning point in astate of affairs. Extreme cultur-al changes were “rocking” thenation.

The year 1967 had seen Sgt.Pepper’s Lonely Hearts ClubBand lead into the “Summer ofLove” as disenchanted youngpeople in the thousands lefthome and headed to SanFrancisco. The year 1968 wouldbegin with the Tet Offensivethat “rocked” the outcome andAmerica’s support for theVietnam War. That event influ-enced the race for the presi-dency, as Eugene McCarthyshowed LBJ to be vulnerable.Johnson withdrew from therace to save the DemocraticParty from a bruising primarybattle, which occurred anyway.Martin Luther King and RobertKennedy were assassinatedmonths apart, the DemocraticConvention became a streetbattle in Chicago, the Russiansinvaded Czechoslovakia andRichard Nixon was electedpresident.

Fast-forward 37 years, 1968 isin our rear-view mirrors. Theyear 2005 found me speaking tothe Atlanta Chapter of theVietnam Helicopter PilotsAssociation in regards to theVietnam War class that I teachat Newnan High School.

At the conclusion of the pres-entation one of the pilotsapproached me and said, “Iremember Newnan.” I smiled,fully expecting to hear abouthow his family had stopped atSprayberry’s Barbecue on a tripto Atlanta.

However, I was to be takenaback by his follow-up: “In1968, my helicopter unit wasadopted by the city of Newnanbefore we left for Vietnam.” Myinterest was immediatelypiqued. I had never heard any-one in Newnan speak of thisconnection.

Within a few weeks I had vis-ited the public library andfound the article that I knewwould be in the local newspa-per. This fascinating piece oflocal history appeared to bealmost completely forgotten —no one that I had asked about itremembered it.

To envision Newnan, Ga.,during the year that rocked theworld I would have to findsomeone who rememberedthat year and Newnan’s adop-tion of this helicopter company.

Along with the local newspa-per my search grew throughthe Internet. Newnan cametogether with the 132ndHelicopter Company and the16th Transportation Corpsearly in 1968. One of the mem-bers of the 132nd, CWO VirlMartin (now of Arkansas),mentioned to his brother-in-law James Sellers of Newnanthat his unit would like to besponsored by a town, but so farthey had no offers.

Mr. Sellers (who has sincedied, but both of his sons,Tommy and Ronnie, still live inNewnan) contacted Mayor NatGlover and the idea took off.Newnan and Coweta Countyboth embraced the idea whole-heartedly, and in late March1968, held what would havebeen a huge event for a town ofNewnan’s size. Lunch in theNational Guard Armory, cityand county key presentations,Chinook rides and displays,and army skydivers were allhigh points of the day.

In addition, a few weekslater, the 132nd flew a Chinookto Newnan and picked up someof the dignitaries involved inthis ceremony. They flew themto Fort Benning and treatedthem to lunch, helicopter

demonstrations and tours ofthe 132nd area.

In recent months, membersof the 132nd from various partsof the country have sent mephotographs of these events.Using this resource, I managedto find three local men thatwere in the photographs andinvited them to sit down andtalk about what transpired herein 1968.

Bobby Welch, former schoolsystem superintendent, was aschool principal at this timeand involved in this adoptionproject. He described Newnanas a “very patriotic place” in1968.

According to Welch, “I don’tremember any of the uglinessthat often accompanied thetroops coming home fromVietnam.”

Wilkins Kirby, CowetaCommission chair in 1968,agreed, saying there was “noanimosity toward the troops” inCoweta County as thereseemed to be in so many partsof the country.

Dr. Charles Barron, anotherparticipant in the event, added,“There was a lot of patriotismin Newnan... I don’t think thatwe were the typical town forveterans to return to.”

The adoption ceremony itselfwent off extremely well,described by Barron as “a niceoccasion.”

Kirby recalled the event:“The 132nd had a good crowdof people here ... wives and all.They mingled in with all theNewnan people that werethere. It was a big event forNewnan.”

Many of the men that wereinvolved in the ceremony thatday were also involved in theFort Benning trip a few weekslater.

After 40 years, Barron recallsthat event even more vividly.“They even carried us down ina Chinook helicopter. I recallputting a helmet on inside thehelicopter, and I didn’t knowwhat it was for until theycranked it up. You really need-ed it! Once we were there theyshowed us how they evacuatedsoldiers and how they droppedthem in by ropes. I was com-pletely fascinated by it. It was aday to be remembered.”

Welch agreed with Barron,especially when it came to thenoise from the Chinook.

“I remember that they gaveme some ear plugs, and I didn’twant them. I always enjoyedflying. The Army guy told me Iwould come back to them later,and sure enough, it didn’t takelong before I wanted them.”

Welch went on to describean interesting conversation hehad with one of the groundpersonnel after they were onthe ground.

“I tried to keep track of theChinook that brought us fromNewnan, and during one of thedemonstrations I noticedsmoke coming from one of theengines,” Welch remembered.“I got the attention of one ofthe military guys there andasked him if that was the air-craft that brought us down. Hesaid that it was. I asked him if itwas going to take us back. Hereplied that they would proba-bly get another one to take usback.”

Kirby remembered anotherthing that the others had not.“They flew us around Newnanfor about 30-40 minutes. Wewent all over Coweta County,the downtown area, pretty lowat times.”

“They knew we were there,”chimed in Barron as theylaughed. The men rememberedthe unit fondly.

“We were treated royally,”according to Welch.

Barron concurred that “theywere fantastic to us.”

Kirby said, “They were verygracious to us. I think that they

really appreciated what we didand we appreciated what theywere doing for us.”

Kirby’s statement gave methe essence of what Newnanwas and still is more than 40years later. In a year that wasrocking the history of theworld, Newnan was supportingthe young men that were goingto where their country askedthem to go.

They supported the localyoung men and the the youngmen of this helicopter unit, notbecause everyone else wasdoing it, but because it wasright. It was the right thing todo then when it was unpopular,and it is the right thing to dotoday.

As the Coweta Commissionon Veterans Affairs prepares tobring the “Wall that Heals” to

Coweta County in October, andas we honor the local menwhose names are on that blackmarble, I think it is importantto remember that helicoptercompany at the NewnanAirport 43 years ago.

If you want to know whoNewnan is and what it was,look at what was done then andwhat is being done now. Youmight find that the year that

rocked the world had littleimpact on Newnan then ornow.

(For more information on themen and machines of the 132ndHelicopter Company, visit theirwebsite at http://132ashc.org/)

* * *Steve Quesinberry is chair-

man of the Social Studiesdepartment at Newnan HighSchool.

Newnan adopted helicopter unit during war

A delegation from Newnan and Coweta County poses after being flown to Ft. Benning on the CH-47 Chinook helicopter to visit the newly-adopted 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 HaroldBarron, 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 ofthe helicopter company. Photos from the event were published in the March 28, 1968, edition of The Newnan Times-Herald. This viewshows 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. Colorguard members are pictured in front.

Delegates from Newnan and Coweta County at the Newnan-Coweta Airport are shown as they prepare to fly to Ft. Benning to visit theadopted 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 Normanand Sam Candler.

VETERANS


During World War I,American media began sayingthe U.S. Marines were the “firstto fight.”

The phrase stuck and wastrue again on March 8, 1965,when 3,500 Marines cameashore at Danang as the firstU.S. ground combat troops toarrive in Vietnam.

During eight years of war inVietnam, Marines like Coweta’sLarry Clarke never quit fight-ing.

Clarke was born and raisedin Decatur, Ga. As soon as hegraduated from Avondale HighSchool in June 1966, he joinedthe Marines. Clarke knewwhere he was headed.

“The Vietnam War was onTV every night,” Clarke said.“You could see it was prettybad over there, but I felt like Iwanted to join up.”

After basic and advancedinfantry training Clarke board-ed a ship for a 30-day cruise toVietnam.

In November 1966, he arrivedat Dong Ha, where he joined GCompany of the SecondBattalion of the 3rd MarineDivision.

Clarke was surprised by hisfirst glimpse of Vietnam.

“It was beautiful,” he said.

“There were mountains andrubber plantations with greatold French colonial houses andit was really a gorgeous place.”

Clarke’s job wasn’t quite soglamorous.

When they weren’t onambush patrol, Clarke’s unitran search-and-destroy mis-sions against Vietnamese vil-lages. They always gave civil-ians a chance to clear out.

“We’d drop leaflets in thearea before we got there sothey’d know we were coming,then we’d go through a villageand search for things theenemy had stored, likeweapons or ammo or food ormedical supplies,” Clarke said.“We found lots of it and thenwe’d generally tear things up.That’s what we did.”

Clarke still remembers thefirst time he was shot at. Hisfire team was walking toward avillage on a hill when an enemysniper opened fire.

“It was numbing at first,”Clarke said. “There was shoot-ing everywhere and it takesawhile to figure it out. Then wegot it together and fought backand finally called in artillery

and they tore the place up. Itwasn’t really close at all, but formy first time, it was closeenough.”

Things soon got worse.Clarke’s unit was on patrolalmost every day, heading towherever the fighting brokeout. On one mission they weretold to find some enemy sol-diers dug in on a hill who hadambushed and killed severalMarines.

On the way up the hill,Clarke’s group came across thebodies of their fallen comrades.About 20 yards farther up thehill Clarke saw a NorthVietnamese soldier in a holewith his hat still on. The enemysoldier was motionless andalmost covered with dirt.Between his legs Clarke sawthe detonator of the satchelcharge explosive that had killedthe Marines down the trail.

“That was my first look atthe enemy face-to-face,” Clarkesaid. “He was dead and thatwas good.”

Everywhere Clarke’s unitwent, they found enemy sol-diers dug in and ready to fight.“We went after them the old-fashioned way,” Clarke said.“We charged.”

Clarke carried an M-79grenade launcher and a .45 pis-tol. The Marines had just beenissued new M-16 rifles but did-n’t like them because the boltsjammed. Most Marines pre-ferred to stick with their M-14carbines.

Clarke used an M-16 duringone firefight and it jammed. Hewas forced to throw it downand fight with a .45 pistol hetook from a dead Marine.

“When your weapon jams inclose quarters combat you’reout of luck,” he said.

Clarke’s unit typically spent30 days in the field beforeboarding the USS Tripoli,which dropped them off some-where else to do it again. Thefighting never stopped.

“Something bad happenedalmost every day over there,”he said. “I saw all I ever want tosee of it.”

Clarke was discharged inDecember 1969 and returned tothe Atlanta area to begin a 34-year career with WesternElectric and AT&T. He movedto Coweta in 1998 and retired in2005.

Clarke remained close tosome of his fellow Marinesafter they returned fromVietnam, but it was a Marinethat didn’t come back that hadthe biggest impact on Clarke’spostwar life.

During Memorial Day festivi-ties in 1995 Clarke’s thoughtswent back to Bill Durham, whowas killed on patrol in ThuaThien not long after visitingwith Clarke. Clarke had neverspoken to Durham’s parentsand wondered if they knew thecircumstances of their son’sdeath.

Clarke also had a photo ofDurham taken in Vietnamshortly before Durham’s deathand thought Durham’s familymight want it.

Clarke only knew thatDurham was from a small townin upstate New York and thathis family ran a dairy farm.Clarke contacted the MarineCorps and asked for informa-tion about how to contactDurham’s family. The Corpsdenied his request, citing priva-cy concerns.

Shortly afterward, Clarkeheard a radio broadcast about agroup associated with theVietnam Veterans Memorialwho were trying to collectinformation about all the sol-ders whose names wereinscribed on the memorial.

Clarke called the group andasked for help contactingDurham’s family. Three weekspassed and Clarke’s hopesfaded.

Then one of the group’smembers called Clarke, said hehad Durham’s sister on thephone and asked if Clarkewanted to speak with her. Theytalked for more than an hour.Clarke made several copies ofthe Durham photo and sentthem to relatives in New York.

Later, Durham’s hometownnewspaper began doing month-ly features about local veteranswho had died in the nation’svarious wars. The newspapertributes were accompanied bypublic ceremonies and serviceshonoring the fallen.

When Durham’s turn cameto be recognized, his familyasked Clarke to attend the cere-mony and share some memo-ries of his friend and fellowMarine.

Clarke spoke at the ceremo-ny and spent the night withmembers of Durham’s family.“We talked a lot and remi-nisced about what we all didover there,” Clarke said. “Thatseemed to settle them. It did

me, too. It was one time I final-ly got some things off mychest.”

Clarke still has questionsabout America’s involvement inVietnam, but none about themen he fought with.

“In retrospect I both ques-tion and don’t question ourmotives,” Clarke said. “But sol-diers serve because they aretold to and we did a good job. Isupport the commander-in-chief and I’m a patriot, butsometimes I have questionsabout the political motives ofthe government.”

Coweta’s Bob Kotz wasn’texpecting to join the Marines

the day he walked into the stu-dent center at WesternMichigan University in early1965. Kotz was born and raisedin Chicago and was in his finalsemester of college with an avi-ation engineering degree insight.

Kotz’s degree and future jobassured a draft deferment, butwhen he saw a Marinerecruiter in the student centerwearing his dress blues, Kotzhad to stop.

“I had friends and relativeswho had been Marines, andthat uniform looked so good Ihad to check it out,” he said.

Kotz said that after a week-

end of heavy socializing and asleepless night of studying, hedidn’t resemble a candidate foranything but a long nap. But hestopped to look over theMarine Corps materials. Therecruiter invited Kotz to goupstairs and take the MarineCorps officer qualification test.

Kotz agreed, fully expectingto fall on his face. He was toldto come back later that day forthe results.

He was shocked to learn hehad scored high enough toqualify for the Marine Corpsofficer candidate program. Heimmediately agreed to give uphis draft deferment and enterthe Corps after graduation.

“I felt like it was my war,”Kotz said. “I called my momand she said, ‘What?’ But thenshe said she understood andsaid that ‘if you have to go intocombat I’m glad you chose theMarines.’”

In October 1965, Kotz headedfor Marine Corps officer train-ing at Quantico, Va. He wasamong 750 officer candidates.Only 500 finished the course.

By mid-1966 Kotz was aMarine Corps 2nd Lieutenant.Most of the freshly-minted offi-cers went to Vietnam, but theCorps sent Kotz to the Army’smissile school in Ft. Bliss, Tx.,to study the radar-guidedHAWK missile system. HAWKstands for Homing All the WayKiller.

After three months at missileschool, Kotz was assigned toCherry Point, N.C., and becamea missile battery commander.He was soon sent to CampLejeune, N.C., to organize andcommand the Marine Corps’first Red Eye missile platoon.

The Red Eye is the forerun-ner of today’s Stinger missilesystem. Kotz hand-picked his44-man platoon and believedhe got the best the Marines hadto offer. He was ready to go towar, but the Corps wasn’t readyto send him overseas.

Kotz volunteered for duty inVietnam 12 times and wasturned down time and again.

The Corps finally agreed tosend him to Vietnam if heagreed to extend his enlistmentfrom three years to four.

He did, and promptly went toOkinawa, where he joined theAir Control Squadron. He wasflown to Vietnam a few dayseach month to become familiarwith the country and the oper-ational setup.

In early 1968, Kotz finallyreported to Danang, Vietnam,as Operations Officer of the 1stLAAMB, Light Anti Air MissileBattalion.

The huge U.S. base atDanang was a prime enemy tar-get and under constant attack.The base was surrounded byfour hills, called MonkeyMountain, Hai Van Pass, Hill327 and Hill Seven.

Each hilltop was home to amissile battery under Kotz’command. Each battery con-sisted of four missile launcherscapable of firing three missileseach, plus a radar operationand control center.

Kotz’ assignment also includ-ed providing ground defensefor his missile batteries. Hesoon learned a few tricks abouthow to extend his lifeexpectancy.

Kotz and three Marines weretraveling by Jeep to Hai VanPass one day before sunrise.When they reached a bridge anAmerican guard stopped them.That was expected. But theguard called Kotz “sir,” whichwas a surprise, since officersdid not wear insignia.

Kotz asked the guard how heknew he was an officer. Theguard said it was because Kotzsat so erect in the Jeep. He saidan officer committing the sameerror had been shot by enemytroops not long before.

“I learned how to slouch in ahurry,” Kotz said.

On another occasion Kotz’sgroup was ambushed. Kotz saidthe firefight only lasted “aboutfive minutes” but he foughtbetween two sergeants firingautomatic weapons. The noise

Marines come ashore at Danang in March 1965

Larry Clarke Bob Kotz Mike Corbitt

Coweta’s Larry Clarke, left, and a Marine Corps buddy in Vietnam.

Larry Clarke relaxes in the field during a rare day off from combatpatrols in Vietnam.

Larry Clarke relaxes in the field during a rare day off from combatpatrols in Vietnam.

Larry Clarke, right, and two Marine Corps buddies during a brief in-country R&R (rest and recreation) break.

Bob Kotz prepares to fire a Red Eye missile during training inCalifornia.

Marine Corps Captain Bob Kotzin uniform.

Coweta’s Bob Kotz commandedthe four missile batteries thatprotected the huge U.S. base atDanang during his tour inVietnam.

Bob Kotz at Danang in 1969.

See DANANG, page 17



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was so bad Kotz lost his hear-ing completely for three daysand suffered some permanenthearing loss.

“The doctors asked if I hadbought any expensive stereoequipment while I was inOkinawa,” Kotz said. “I toldthem I had and they said Iwould never hear the real highpitches.”

Before dawn one day Kotzgot an emergency call from Hill327 saying the missile batterywas under attack. He told a ser-geant to get all the Marineinfantrymen out of bed andinto formation.

In minutes 100 Marines hadbeen assembled. Many of themhad been partying all night andothers were dead tired fromextended field operations, butwhen Kotz said he needed 44volunteers to defend Hill 327,all 100 Marines volunteered.

“I told my sergeant to pickthe 44 in the best shape andsend them out,” Kotz said.“They went up that hill andcame across 20 enemy attack-ers. They killed six and noAmericans were killed, butwhat I will always remember isthe fact that when there wastrouble, every last one of thoseMarines volunteered to gofight.”

Kotz was also at Danangwhen Vietcong guerrillas blewup the fuel dump. The hugeblast — more than a mile away— sent out such a massive con-cussion wave that it knockedKotz 30 feet through the airinto the radar control center.

“A guy in there asked, ‘Didyou do that on purpose?’” Kotzsaid. “We had a good laugh.”

Kotz was discharged in 1969,promptly earned his MBA atRutgers University and had along career in the franchisingindustry. He has lived inCoweta County since 1979 andcurrently serves as an adjunctprofessor of management atWest Georgia TechnicalCollege’s LaGrange campus.

“I’ll always be a Marine and Icouldn’t be prouder,” Kotz said.“I believed in what we weredoing to stop the advancementof Communism and I’m proudof the job we did.”

Coweta’s Mike Corbitt wasso intent on joining theMarines he ran away fromhome to do it. Corbitt was bornand raised in South FultonCounty, Ga., and attendedCampbell High. He was readyto join the Marines before hewas ready to graduate.Corbitt’s mother didn’t want

her 17-year-old son joining up,but the Marines had no suchqualms. Corbitt snuck out ofhis room at 5:30 one morning,jumped in a car driven by aMarine recruiter and wasalready signed up by the timehis mother ran him down at theinduction center in Atlanta.

“We were lined up and readyto leave and I saw my mamacome through the door,”Corbitt said. “She didn’t like itbut I told her if she stopped meI’d just run off again and gosomewhere else, so she finallyagreed to it. I joined theMarines because I wanted to,not because I had to. I wantedto go to Vietnam. I was afraid Iwas gonna miss it. After I gotthere it was a different story.”

Corbitt’s cousin taught himmap reading and compass skillswhen he was a boy. Those skillsput him ahead of most otherrecruits. After basic andadvanced infantry training,Corbitt moved up in the ranks

quickly.“I had an advantage over the

others,” Corbitt said. “But I wasstill just a 140-pound kid. I hadlots to learn.”

Corbitt arrived in Vietnamin April 1969, and joined the2nd Battalion of the 4th MarineRegiment at Quang Tri.

Corbitt’s unit spent weeks ata time in the jungle, findingshelter where they could andliving off the land, eating snake,dog or even monkey whenMarine Corps rations ran out.

“The Marines kept us sup-plied with plenty of ammo butnot always with food andwater,” Corbitt said.“Whenever a chopper lowereda net full of rations, we’d dumpthe cans in our packs, fill up 11canteens with water and keepmoving.”

Corbitt said the SouthVietnamese children loved togather f ish the Marines“caught” with hand grenades.

“We’d drop a grenade in ariver and those dead fish wouldcome up and the kids really gotexcited,” Corbitt said “It wasfun to watch.”

The South Vietnamese evenshowed Corbitt how to eatgrasshoppers cooked on a hotrock beside a fire. “It wasn’tbad,” Corbitt said. “Kind of likefried okra.”

Corbitt’s unit ran countlesssearch and destroy missionsagainst small villages. He said itdidn’t take long to figure outthe villagers weren’t usuallythe bad guys.

“We’d go through and findplenty of weapons or food ormedical supplies and we knewthey didn’t have it for them-selves,” Corbitt said. “We knew

that the villagers were told ifthey didn’t store those suppliesto help the Vietcong their fami-lies would be killed. What werethey supposed to do?”

Corbitt’s unit rarely went aday without encountering theenemy, usually NVA (NorthVietnamese Army) regulars.Corbitt fought in countlesssmall skirmishes and in majorbattles at Signal Hill, Dong Ha,Cam Lo, Mudder’s Ridge andHills 881 and 661.

Corbitt said you could tellwhen a major encounter wasabout to happen.

“Before they charged theysent people out that acted kindof like cheerleaders,” Corbittsaid. “They’d scream ‘Kill theAmericans’ or ‘Americans willdie.’”

The charges always camebefore daylight, but were nevera surprise. “They smoked a lotof dope before they attacked,”Corbitt said. “Even before theyhit the perimeter you couldsmell them coming.”

Corbitt quickly advancedthrough the ranks and became

a squad leader. He is stillhaunted by some of the viciousbattles, including two brutalincidents of hand-to-hand com-bat, one in which he foughtwith a machete, another wherehis weapon was a military K-Bar knife.

Details of those fights are toographic to describe here butCorbitt said that no matter thefight or the circumstances, hismain concern was the welfareof his squad.

“You’re supposed to be atough guy,” Corbitt said. “Butsometimes it just scared thehell out of me. But my maingoal was always taking care ofmy men. I was a good squadleader and if one of my guysgot hurt it almost killed me. Icouldn’t stand it.”

On several occasions Corbittserved as platoon sergeantwhen the post was temporarilyvacant. He left the Marineswith the rank of sergeant.

During one mission Corbitt’ssquad was being flown to a hotlanding zone aboard a CH-46helicopter. When they arrived,fire was heavy and the incom-ing helicopter was a prime tar-get. Corbitt heard a loud“thunk” then heard bells andwhistles going off and realizedthe chopper had been hit andwas going down.

The next thing he remem-bers is being on the ground andlooking over at the helicopter,piled in a crumpled heap sever-al feet away.

“I had been knocked out ofthe helicopter and fell 25 or 30feet to the ground before itcrashed,” Corbitt said. “I could-n’t get up. I felt like I was para-lyzed. Then I finally got up andgot my men together and wemoved out.”

Three days later, when thesquad took a break, Corbitt satdown to rest and couldn’t getback up. He was medevac’d to amilitary hospital at YakusaNaval Base in Japan.

Doctors said Corbitt’s spinehad been injured when he fellfrom the helicopter. Corbittwas kept in traction for twoweeks and then told surgerywas necessary to repair thedamage to his neck and upperspine. He refused, and threedays later, was back with hisunit.

Corbitt said after NorthVietnam’s leader Ho Chi Minhdied in September 1969 the vol-ume and intensity of enemyraids increased.

“Sometimes they acted likethey were crazy,” he said.“They’d come at you shootingin the air or in the ground orshooting at each other andshooting at you. It was impossi-ble to tell what they were goingto do. I was lucky to get out.”

Corbitt was discharged in1970 and returned to Atlantabut had trouble adjusting tocivilian life and tried to rejointhe Marines. By then, theCorps was cutting back on per-sonnel and refused Corbitt’srequest.

There was only one brightspot in his life. In high school,Corbitt had been in love with agirl three years younger. Shewas not allowed to date himwhile they were in school, butshe corresponded with Corbittwhile he was in Vietnam.

When Corbitt got home,Deborah Cantrell had graduat-ed from high school and had ajob. The two finally started dat-ing. It worked out so well thatthis December, Mike andDeborah Corbitt will celebratetheir 41st wedding anniversary.

“The second best thing I everdid in my life was join theMarine Corps,” Corbitt said.“The best thing I did was

DANANGContinued from page 16

Coweta’s Bob Kotz, left, and a fellow Marine relax in Danang.

Marines come ashore at Danang in March 1965

This sandbagged hut was one of the nicer places Mike Corbitt lived while in the field in Vietnam.

After the battle of Mudder’s Ridge, Coweta’s Mike Corbitt (seated, second from right) takes a breakwith fellow Marines.

Coweta’s Mike Corbitt aftercompleting Marine Corps basictraining at Parris Island, S.C.

Mike Corbitt takes a break in a Vietnamese rice paddy in 1969.

Marine Corps Vietnam vet Mike Corbitt drives State Senator MitchSeabaugh, R-Sharpsburg, during a parade in Grantville.

marry my wife.”Corbitt went to technical

college and had careers in theHVAC and automotive indus-tries before opening Corbitt’sCollision Center in 1981. Hemoved to Coweta 16 years ago.

Corbitt was aware publicsentiment was against the warwhile he served and said hewas treated rudely by citizensin California and Georgiawhen he came home. But hesaid by then, it really didn’tmatter.

“We knew people wereunhappy back here,” Corbittsaid. “But we didn’t thinkabout it while we were overthere. We were too busy doingwhat we had to do to stayalive. I wouldn’t give anythingfor being a Marine and I’mproud of what I did overthere.”

Mike Corbitt at a tent in QuangTri, Vietnam. Corbitt spend mostof his time in the field.


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The Tet Offensive — namedfor the Vietnamese New Year— was a major push by theNorth Vietnamese Armyagainst United States and SouthVietnamese forces that beganin January 1968 and lasted formonths.

When the final body countwas tallied, U.S. officialsdeclared a victory, but the tele-vised slaughter fueled an enor-mous public outcry in the U.S.and marked the beginning of arapid decline in whatever sup-port remained for sendingmore U.S. troops to die inVietnam.

In the wake of the TetOffensive student protestsagainst the war drew tens ofthousands. U.S. military andpolitical leaders were aban-doned by even their staunchestsupporters in the media.

Antiwar Democratic candi-dates promising to end the car-nage even registered to runagainst President LyndonJohnson in the 1968 election. InMarch 1968, realizing that hehad lost public support, publicconfidence and the war,Johnson stunned the nation byannouncing he would not runfor re-election.

And in 1968, the war wasn’tthe only problem occupyingthe American people. The CivilRights Act of 1964 was law, butracial tensions across the coun-try still ran high. In April 1968,Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. wasassassinated at a Memphismotel the day after speaking insupport of striking blackMemphis sanitation workers.Two months later, in June 1968,Robert F. Kennedy, in the midstof his presidential campaign,was gunned down in a LosAngeles hotel kitchen minutesafter celebrating his victory inthe California presidential pri-mary.

In August, the DemocraticParty Convention in Chicagowas not dominated by politicsbut violence as tens of thou-sands of anti-war demonstra-tors fought in the streets withChicago Police and the IllinoisNational Guard.

Richard Nixon smashedDemocrat Hubert Humphreythe 1968 presidential election,promising to bring “Peace withhonor” in Vietnam.

As far as Americans wereconcerned he couldn’t bring itfast enough. In 1968 alone,16,592 Americans died in thedeadliest year of the war.

Peace talks had quietly begunin late 1968 but would not endfor five more years. In April1969, peace talks began openlyin Paris as U.S. troops contin-ued to pour into Vietnam. Thatsame month, U.S. troopsreached a record level of543,400. By then, 33,641Americans had died inVietnam, more than were killedin combat during the entireKorean War.

In June 1969 Nixonannounced a policy of“Vietnamization,” designed toturn control of the fight over toSouth Vietnamese forces. Healso announced the withdrawalof 25,000 U.S. troops.

It wasn’t enough. Monthslater, a peace rally inWashington, D.C., drew an esti-mated 250,000. Nixondecreased troop levels whilethe Paris peace talks sputteredon and off.

On July 1, 1971, 6,100 U.S.troops left Vietnam in a singleday, a record for departures.But the fighting continued, asCoweta’s Randy Sewell learnedwhen he arrived later thatmonth.

Sewell was born and raisedin Moreland and attendedNewnan High School, graduat-ing in 1964. He attendedGeorgia Tech and graduated in1969. Sewell knew he was likelyto be drafted but felt a specialkinship with friends and fellowstudents who had gone toVietnam. He decided to jointhe military and enlisted tobecome an Air Force officer.

“I wanted to take away theuncertainty about the draft,”Sewell said. “But I also felt itwas something I should do. Inever regretted it.”

During officer training atLackland Air Force Base in SanAntonio, Sewell wasapproached about flight train-ing. He had not considered itbefore, but once he flew for thefirst time, was hooked.

“I loved it,” he said. “It’s hardto explain how it gets into your

system.”After earning his wings,

Sewell was assigned to fly anOV-10 as a Forward AirController, or FAC. Sewell’smission was searching forenemy troops and supplies,directing attack aircraft to thefighting and spotting enemytargets as the battle progressed.

Sewell arrived in Vietnam inlate July 1971 and was based atPleiku in Vietnam’s CentralHighlands. He said the livingconditions were not exactlyfirst class for the 20 Americanpilots in his unit who wereassigned to Pleiku but were notofficially attached to any U.S.or South Vietnamese unit.

By the time Sewell arrived,the huge U.S. base at Pleiku hadbeen abandoned by U.S. forcesand turned over to the SouthVietnamese military. Sewellsaid one of the first things thenew tenants did was rip out thesinks, lavatories and showersand sell them on the local blackmarket for cold, hard cash.

“Those people were so poorthey would do anything for afew dollars,” Sewell said. “Weunderstood why they did it.”

Sewell’s unit hauled bucketsof water to flush the toilets.Running water was available toa small shower facility, but onlyfor an hour or two each day.

The food wasn’t much better.Sewell said he ate “a lot ofsmall chickens” and vast quan-tities of peanut M&Ms sent byloved ones back in the States.

While at Pleiku, Sewell main-ly flew missions overCambodia and said there waslittle excitement.

“It was a pretty low-threatarea,” he said. “I found a fewthings and called in someattack planes a few times, but itwasn’t too exciting.”

Things were different at thebase. It was not uncommon forenemy troops to fire rockets atthe Pleiku facility. One day, ithappened at a most inoppor-tune time.

Sewell had finished his dailyflight and gone back to hisquarters. He realized the waterwas on and decided to take aquick shower.

Sewell had just gotten wetwhen the base was hit with abarrage of enemy rockets.Sewell knew the drill.

“When all the alarms andwarnings went off, I just laiddown in the shower and waitedfor it to end,” he said. He didn’trealize he would soon have avery unexpected guest.

The American pilots atPleiku had adopted a scruffywhite dog they called WilliePete, the nickname for thephosphorous (WP) grenadesOV-10 pilots dropped to marktargets. Seconds after Sewellhit the floor, Willie Pete racedinto the shower looking forhelp.

“He jumped down there andhuddled up next to me, and hewas shaking all over,” Sewellsaid. “And he really smelled likea wet dog. It was bad. But Iunderstood. He didn’t want toget hit by one of those rockets,either.”

After a month at Pleiku,Sewell was transferred toNakhon Phanom, a Royal ThaiAir Force Base in Thailand theAmericans referred to as NKP.

The living conditions at NKPwere luxurious compared toPleiku, with plenty of food, airconditioned quarters and evena bar the pilots frequentedcalled the Nail Hole.

But the mission threat levelwas vastly different. At NKPSewell found himself underattack almost daily. Most of his230 combat missions wereflown out of NKP, and Sewellsaid he always expected to befired upon.

“They never went after usbig time, because they didn’twant to give their positionaway,” Sewell said. “But theywere always taking pot shots atus.”

Sewell’s primary mission wasinterdiction, searching forenemy troops and suppliesalong the Ho Chi Minh Trail, avast network of roads and trailsrunning from mountain passesin North Vietnam through Laosinto South Vietnam.

Reports from FACs based inDanang indicated vast quanti-ties of supplies and personnelwere moving down the trail asNorth Vietnamese troopspoured into South Vietnamwhile U.S troops withdrew.

But because the NorthVietnamese knew how to hideunder the thick jungle canopy,spotting them ranged from dif-ficult to impossible.

“I’d go out flying day afterday and not see anything and itgot frustrating,” Sewell said.

Then one day Sewell realizedthere was a way to find theenemy. Most of the Ho ChiMinh Trail was shrouded bythick jungle cover, but enemy

troops had to cross a river thatran east and west across thetrail. Sewell figured if he couldfind the river crossing, he couldfind the enemy troops.

One day he decided to fly theriver from one end of his sectorto the other. Sure enough, hefound a huge ford constructedacross the river by NorthVietnamese troops. Sewellreported his find and directedthe initial air attacks on his dis-covery before he ran low onfuel and returned to base.

The route was promptlyscouted and huge amounts ofweapons supplies were discov-ered along with areas called

“truck parks,” where enemytroops hid their vehicles untilthey knew they could travelwithout being observed fromabove.

“That was a big find for us,”Sewell said. “It really put a dentin the enemy’s plans.”

Sewell’s aircraft was neverhit by enemy fire, but he stillhad some close calls. The worstnail-biter came while he was onthe ground.

Sewell was at Danang onTemporary Duty (TDY) andwas on the runway waiting tofly a mission when he saw anAir Force truck whose driverwas lost or confused drive out

into an active runway anddirectly into the path of a SouthVietnamese A-37 aircraft thatwas on its takeoff run.

Sewell watched in horror asthe A-37 hit the truck, ripping awing off the A-37 and sendingthe truck up in a huge fireball.

Worse, when the A-37’s wingcame off, its bomb load spilledand Sewell watched as twobombs “came skipping andtwirling and spinning righttoward me.”

Sewell watched in amaze-ment as the two bombs passedbeneath his aircraft without hit-ting a thing.

“That was close,” Sewell said.“But the main thing I was wor-ried about was the pilot of theA-37.” The pilot was rescued byground crews and survived.The occupants of the truckburned to death.

After his tour in Vietnam,Sewell decided to make acareer of the Air Force andstayed in the service until 1989.He came back to Georgia andsoon began working in comput-er technology and support forCarroll County Schools.Twelve years ago he took asimilar position with HeardCounty Schools. Sewell and hiswife, Linda, have called CowetaCounty home for 20 years.

Sewell said as the war was

From Tet in 1968 until the Vietnam War ended

Randy Sewell Jack Shaw

Randy Sewell in Thailand in hisflight suit.

Randy Sewell late in his 20-yearcareer in the Air Force.

Randy Sewell with his OV-10 aircraft.

Randy Sewell in the cockpit of his OV-10.

Jack Shaw, right, prepares for his last flight in Thailand on February 17, 1973. Though attached to theU.S. Embassy, Shaw flew a plane without military markings and wore civilian clothes and did not wearhis dog tags

See WAR’S END, page 19

http://www.heritagehawks.org

VETERANS

winding down he heard manycomments from military per-sonnel about their disillusion-ment with the way the war wasbeing fought, but he didn’talways agree.

“I understood why somepeople said that,” he said. “But Ithought that as long as therewere American troops on theground my job was to protectthem, and if the enemy troopsand weapons I was looking forwere going to kill Americans itwas my job to find those trucksand kill as many of them as Icould.”

Coweta’s Jack Shaw arrivedat NKP in March 1972. LikeSewell, Shaw flew OV-10s as aFAC. But Shaw took a differentpath to the Air Force.

Shaw was a military brat,born in South Korea while hisfather was stationed there. Bythe time he hit junior high,Shaw’s family lived in Tampa.Shaw graduated fromHillsborough Hill School andafter a year at the University ofSouth Florida, was admitted tothe Air Force Academy.

“I loved it,” Shaw said. “All I’dever wanted to do was fly andfight and that got me started.”

Shaw graduated in June 1970and after flight training atHurlburt Field in Fort Walton,Fla., was assigned to fly OV-10sas a FAC.

He went to battle in March1972, flying out of NKP inThailand as a member of the23rd Tactical Air SupportSquadron. Shaw said when hearrived at NKP, the U.S. waslosing OV-10s at the rate ofabout one every 10 days.

“It didn’t take me long torealize if I stayed there long

enough, I’d be shot down,”Shaw said. “Sure enough, I did.Twice.”

Shaw flew regular combatmissions, spotting enemytroops or supplies and callingin air strikes. He said the proce-dure for FACs who spottedenemy targets was to drop aWillie Pete phosphorousgrenade to mark the target withsmoke while calling in an airstrike and then directing theaction from the air.

Shaw said as soon as friendlypilots appeared Shaw wouldask the incoming pilot, “See mysmoke?” If they said yes, Shawreplied, “Hit my smoke.”

“It was our way of tellingthem that we found the target

and they ought to able to findit, too,” Shaw said. “It was just alittle dig at the fighter pilots.”

Shaw and other FACs in thesquadron were often rotated tothe base at Danang when extraFACs were needed duringheavy fighting.

On his second temporarydeployment to Danang, Shawwas walking into his quarterswhen he ran into an Air Forcebuddy named Jim Twaddell,who was headed out to fly amission in his OV-10.

Twaddell asked Shaw if hewanted to tag along. SinceShaw was wearing his flightsuit and had nothing else to do,he dumped his bags and head-ed to the flight line withTwaddell.

In early April 1972, the NorthVietnamese had launched amassive attack on SouthVietnam that came to be calledthe Easter Invasion. The fight-ing was still heavy when Shawand Twaddell took off on May25, 1972.

After f inding a NorthVietnamese amphibious tank ina river and calling in an airstrike that sunk the vehicle,Shaw and Twaddell got a callsaying “TIC” for “troops incontact.” The aviators’ numberone priority was responding torescue and support a downedpilot.

“We dropped everything andheaded out to do whatever wehad to do save one of our fly-ers,” Shaw said. “That wasalways top priority.”

The number two priority wasa TIC call and as soon as theyheard it, Twaddell and Shawheaded for the action.

They reached the battle siteand watched as SouthVietnamese troops in a villagebeneath them were shelled byenemy tanks hidden in the jun-gle.

The South Vietnamesetroops could not send groundtroops to find the tanks and soShaw and Twaddell kept flyingover the scene, trying unsuc-cessfully to locate them.

During the mission, Shawlooked out and saw what hethought was a 37 mm artillerytracer headed for the plane. Hedidn’t worry until he saw thetracer change course to followhis plane. That’s when Shawrealized he had actually beenattacked by an SA-7, a shoulder-fired heat-seeking missile thatwas bad news for American fly-ers.

Shaw was at the controls andpulled back on the stick tododge the missile. Shaw’smaneuver kept the missile fromhitting the plane’s exhaust, butthe SA-7 smashed into the fuse-lage right behind Shaw, startinga fire in the rear cargo area.

Shaw had been drilled overand over about what to dowhen a fire started aboard hisaircraft. When the flames start-ed licking over his seat andthreatened to melt his para-chute, he ejected. Less than asecond later, Twaddell joinedhim.

The two floated down a halfmile apart, with Twaddell drift-ing toward the relative safety ofthe ocean while Shaw driftedback over the battle zone.

Soon, Shaw heard the soundof an aircraft and thought,“Hey, this is great, my buddiesare coming to get me.”

They weren’t.Shaw looked around was

stunned to see the OV-10 hehad just ejected from headingstraight for him.

“When we ejected that plane

was set to fly in a circle pat-tern,” Shaw said. “It hadn’tgone down yet and it was com-ing in a big circle straight forme. I thought, ‘what a way todie… run over by my own air-plane.’”

The plane missed Shaw butcame close enough that hecould read the safety warningsstenciled on the fuselage. Aftertwo more passes, each fartheraway, the OV-10 finally crashed.

When Shaw issued the origi-nal “Mayday!” call to indicatehe was going down, a U.S.Marine serving as a militaryadvisor heard and understood.The Marine watched as theburning OV-10 flew overhead,then saw the chutes as Shawand Twaddell ejected.

The Marine knew four SouthVietnamese helicopters wereheaded toward the battle anddirected them to pick upTwaddell on the beach andShaw where his parachute hadgone down near the besiegedvillage. Both pilots were res-cued.

Shaw and Twaddell wereflown back to Danang. Theyhad both been at a huge base-wide celebration at NKP hon-oring the return of a pilot whohad been shot down and res-cued. They were expecting thesame treatment. But at Danang,all they got were a few strangelooks, an invitation to dinnerand orders to spend the nightat the hospital.

“We were pretty bummedout,” Shaw said. “We expecteda big deal.”

Shaw and Twaddell finallyreturned to NKP hoping they’dbe honored guests at a partylike the one they’d seen earlier.

“We knew they knew how todo it up right at NKP,” Shawsaid. “We were expecting agood time.”

Instead, they were greeted bythree jeeps and Shaw was toldto report to the squadron com-mander in 30 minutes.

Shaw went over expecting tobe congratulated on comingback alive. Instead, the com-mander admonished Shaw forlosing an aircraft and groundedhim for a week.

“It was really hard,” Shawsaid. “But that week off did megood because it gave me timeto think about how lucky I wasto even come back alive. Afterthat, my whole attitudechanged and I was grateful forevery day I stayed alive.”

As that commander was leav-ing for another posting, he tookShaw aside and told him thegrounding was for Shaw’s owngood and that he fully expectedShaw to become a top FAC.

“I was on cloud 9 after that,”Shaw said.

In the fall of 1972, Shaw’sroommate and close friend, HalMischler, accepted a newassignment as a FAC assignedto the U.S. Embassy inVientiane, Laos. In December1972, Shaw followed.

At the time, Thailand wasnot officially allowed to hostany U.S. uniformed troops,except for embassy guards. ButU.S. troops were there, workingin a clandestine capacity.

While attached to theembassy in Vientiane, Shawstill flew as a FAC, butstrangers would not have rec-ognized him as a member ofthe U.S. military.

He flew a small, single-engine plane without U.S. mil-itary markings, grew his hairlong, dressed in civilianclothes and never wore hisdog tags.

“It was the undercoverworld,” Shaw said. “That wasmy introduction into thespook world where nobodyreally exists officially.”

The f ighting, even in an“unofficial” capacity, remainedheavy. On Dec. 23, 1972, itcouldn’t have been worse.

Shaw was flying a check ridewith Lew Hatch, a classmatefrom the Air Force Academy,when they got a call that anOV-10 piloted by Shaw’s room-mate Hal Mischler had gonedown.

They headed for the spot asfast as possible. The fightingwas heavy and they were flyinglow. Shaw remembers hearingwhat he thought were enginebackfires outside his openwidow. He later learned theywere enemy bullets whippingpast the plane.

He saw the spot where hisroommate’s plane had gonedown, but was too busy direct-ing f ire to give it muchthought. He was also busy justtrying to keep the plane in theair as the engine stalled repeat-edly.

The engine f inally lostpower. Shaw put the planedown at a small abandonedairstrip near the firebase thatwas under attack. An AirAmerica helicopter headed forthe firebase to pick up deadand wounded was ordered to

pick up Shaw and Hatch.Shaw and Hatch boarded the

chopper just seconds before itwas overrun by enemy troops,then stayed aboard as thechopper stopped to pick updead and wounded at the fire-base and headed for home.

The dead troops in the chop-per were covered with pon-chos, but blood still leakedfrom their wounds, pooling onthe chopper and sloshing backand forth before spilling outthe door.

“I kept watching that blood,”Shaw said. “I remember seeingit run toward the side near thedoor and blow out into theslipstream over Laos.

At the end of the flight, Shawwatched as the bodies wereunloaded. Military personnelcame by and pulled up the pon-chos covering the dead. Whenthey came to one body, theylooked under the poncho andthen laid an American flag overthe remains, marking the deadman as an American.

Shaw was confused andasked Hatch, “Who is that? Youthink it’s an American advi-sor?”

Hatch knew better. WhileShaw had been busy directingtraffic during the battle, Hatchhad watched as ground troopswent to Mischler’s downedplane and recovered his body.

Hatch told Shaw, “Jack, that’syour roommate Hal. He waskilled.”

“I could’t even move,” Shawsaid. “I saw him go down, but Ifigured he was all right, andwe’d get together that night fora beer. I had no idea he had

been killed. Tears startedstreaming down my face, and Ijust stood there and cried untilthe plane that took him awaywas out of sight. The next timeI saw him was six months laterat his grave in Kansas.”

Shaw remained in Laos forseveral more months, flyingroutine missions as the warwound down. The peace agree-ment ending the war wassigned in Paris on Jan. 27, 1973.On Feb. 17, 1973, all U.S. combatactivity in Laos was scheduledto cease at noon.

Shaw said the NorthVietnamese knew the timetablefor Laos and planned majorattacks to begin as soon as theAmericans parked their planesand quit providing air supportfor South Vietnamese troops.

Shaw flew his last mission onthe morning of Feb. 17, 1973. Heremembered getting a call froma South Vietnamese groundcommander who was underattack, but since it was almostnoon, Shaw’s ground controllerordered him to leave the areaand fly back to base.

“It was awful,” Shaw said. “Ifelt terrible having to leave thatfight. I was saying to myself Iwas here to help those guys onthe ground and now I’ve justabandoned them. I felt totallyworthless.”

After Vietnam, Shawremained in the Air Force,retiring in 1990 with 20 years ofservice. He flew for Delta forthe next 17 years before retiringand has called Coweta homefor 10 years.

“I have some mixed feelingsabout the war now,” he said.

“But not about my role. I was awarrior. I didn’t want to wakeup years later and not knowwhat it was like to be in com-bat. But in the end, my job wasto get everybody else homesafely and my roommate camehome in a box. That one stillhurts, but that’s the kind ofthing you can’t control thathappens in war.”

In 1973, America left the fightin Vietnam and cut financialsupport for the SouthVietnamese military as the bat-tle for control of the countryraged on. In December 1974North Vietnamese leaders metin Hanoi to create a final planfor victory. In March 1975 thefinal North Vietnamese offen-sive began.

On April 23, 1975, as 100,000North Vietnamese soldiersadvanced on the SouthVietnamese capital of Saigon,President Gerald Ford saidduring a speech at TulaneUniversity that Vietnam was“a war that is finished as far asAmerica is concerned.”

One week later, April 30, 1975,the last 10 American Marinesdeparted the U.S. Embassy inSaigon as North Vietnamesetroops poured into the city.

At 11 a.m. local time, the redand blue Viet Cong flag flewfrom the presidential palace inSaigon and South Vietnamesepresident Minh announcedSouth Vietnam’s unconditionalsurrender.

The war was finally over, at acost of over 58,000 Americanlives.

WAR’S ENDContinued from page 18

From Tet Offensive in 1968 until the end

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’s hat identifies himas a member of the 23rd TacticalAir Support Squadron.

Jack Shaw, right, at Danang with an Air Force Academy classmate who joined the Army after graduat-ing from the Air Force Academy and fought on the ground in Vietnam.

Jack Shaw and his OV-10 at the air base in Nakhon Phanom,Thailand.



VETERANS


From Oct. 20-23, the VietnamVeterans Memorial MovingWall will be on display at theCoweta County Fairgrounds.

This traveling memorial,called “The Wall That Heals,”is a half-size replica of theVietnam Veterans Memorialthat was dedicated on Nov. 13,1982, in Washington, D.C.

The permanent memorial inD.C. is inscribed with thenames of 58,272 military per-sonnel who died in theVietnam theater of war or sub-sequently died of woundsreceived in Vietnam.

Included are 23 men listed ashaving Coweta County as theirofficial “Home of Record,” orwho are shown in the Historyof Coweta County as havingCoweta roots, including thoseburied in Coweta County.

Names listed on the VietnamVeterans Memorial include 155Medal of Honor recipients, 677medics, 17 chaplains and minis-ters, 30 sets of brothers andthree sets of fathers and sonswho died in the same war.

The Wall That Heals givesvisitors who have never seenthe permanent memorial inWashington a sense of thesolemn dignity conveyed inwhat is now the most heavily-visited memorial in ournation’s capital.

It is hard to believe that theVietnam Veterans Memorialwas once as divisive as it isnow revered. No one is morefamiliar with the bitter battleover the memorial thanCoweta’s Hank Berkowitz, whofought to get the memorialbuilt almost 30 years ago and isstill fighting to support the vet-erans whose memory it honors.

Berkowitz was born andraised in Arcata, Calif. Aftergraduating from Arcata HighSchool in 1967 he attendedHumboldt State College for aquarter then joined the U.S.Marine Corps.

“I wasn’t ready for college,”Berkowitz said. “I wanted to getout of my comfort zone and trysomething new.”

After basic and advancedinfantry training, Berkowitzwent to the DefenseInformation School at FortBenjamin Harrison, Ind., andtrained as a military journalist.Instead of taking a desk job,Berkowitz volunteered for dutyin Vietnam, and in December1968, he joined the Marines inVietnam as a combat photo-journalist.

Berkowitz followed units inthe field, documenting theaction as he dodged bullets andtried to stay alive.

“I didn’t want to be behindthe lines,” he said. “I wanted tobe out in the field where thefighting was. Sanity is not partof my upbringing.”

Berkowitz recalled one mis-sion when he and a seven-manMarine reconnaissanceteam were flown 15 milesbehind enemy lines in a heli-copter and told to spend sevendays in the field searching forenemy troops.

“We pretty much took onanything and everything wecame across,” Berkowitz said.

During one engagement,when his unit was clearly out-numbered, the Marines could-n’t wait to fight and Berkowitzremembers thinking, “You’re 15miles out there in the middle ofnowhere. Who’s gonna comeget you if there’s trouble?”

Berkowitz was also in apitched battle in the fall of 1969at a Marine camp near LibertyBridge, 30 miles south ofDanang.

“Their recon units — theywere called sappers — were asgood as ours,” Berkowitz said.“They knew where we were.Before they attacked, theywould do some drugs and tiecords around their limbs to stopthe expected bleeding. Theywere pretty much putting ontourniquets in advance becausethey expected to get shot.”

The enemy attacked LibertyBridge with satchel charges,flame throwers and small-armsfire.

“That was the first time we’dseen them use flame throwers,”Berkowitz said. “It was grue-some. We lit them up andfought all night long. The nextmorning we dug a crater andburied 74 of them. We had eightMarines killed and 24 wounded.One Marine was killed by aflame thrower before he couldget out of his bunk.”

On another occasionBerkowitz was awakened earlyone morning and told to grabhis camera and go to a nearbyvillage whose people were con-sidered friendly to Americans.Enemy troops had just attackedthe village with flame throwersand satchel charges, killing 130civilians, including women andchildren, to make an example ofwhat could happen to residentsof a so-called “safe village.”

“Basically, they fried 130 peo-ple,” Berkowitz said. “The smellwas so bad that when we gotthere the first thing I did wasstop and puke my guts out onthe side of the road. Then Istarted taking pictures. Somewere so gruesome they had tobe censored.”

After a 12-month tour,Berkowitz came home briefly,then volunteered to go back.

“I felt guilty leaving all mybrothers behind over there,” hesaid.

After six more months in-country, Berkowitz left Vietnam

on June 30, 1970. Following abrief stint with the MarineCorps’ “Leatherneck” magazine,Berkowitz was discharged andreturned to Humboldt StateCollege, where he fought to seethat Vietnam veterans receivedthe benefits and care theydeserved.

“The situation was terrible allover the country for vets com-ing back from that war,”Berkowitz said. “Nobody wasdoing anything for them, and Iwanted to change that. It was astruggle. Nobody with the VAor campus veterans servicesliked to see me coming. I didn’tmake any friends, but I didn’tcare. I was determined to makesomebody give my brotherswhat they had earned.”

In 1975, Berkowitz finishedcollege and took a position withthe Veterans Administrationregional office in Washington,D.C. He continued to push forimproved veteran services andcare.

“It was like trying to turnaround a battleship,” he said. “Ispent years there trying to getthe VA moving and working toget veterans programs passedby Congress. Sometimes we feltlike all our efforts were wasted.But we didn’t quit.”

Berkowitz also became activewith the Disabled AmericanVeterans, American Legion andVFW. As part of his VA duties,Berkowitz served as SpringGames Director for the D.C.Special Olympics program, atthe time run by ExecutiveDirector Annie Joe Denney, aCoweta County native.

Berkowitz often brought dis-abled veterans to the SpecialOlympics events. “It helpedthem take their mind off theirown problems,” he said.

Berkowitz soon grew as fondof the Special Olympics’ execu-tive director as he was of theevent. It was mutual and he andAnnie Joe were married on June5, 1983, at the closing cere-monies of that spring’s D.C.Special Olympics games.

During his time in D.C.Berkowitz met Jan Scruggswhile attending a presentationby Scruggs about a proposedmemorial honoring veterans ofthe Vietnam War. At the time,Scruggs was lobbying Congressto donate a small parcel of landon the National Mall for thememorial.

Berkowitz loved the idea,joined Scruggs’ group andworked with the committee forfundraising and organizing.

As support for the memorialslowly grew, Congress reluc-tantly donated land for thememorial. The non-profitVietnam Veterans MemorialFund began raising privatefunds to design and constructthe memorial.

The first order of businesswas choosing a design. Thewinning plan — submitted by21-year-old Yale architecturestudent Maya Lin — was almostas controversial as the war.

Immediately after Lin waschosen to design the monu-ment, complaints arose fromthe public, financial donors andeven some Vietnam veteranswho didn’t want Lin involvedbecause she was of Chinesedescent. Lin’s unconventionaldesign was also widely criti-cized.

Instead of a standard memo-rial featuring statues of heroicpeople doing heroic deeds, Lin’sdesign featured a pair of blackstone walls set into the earth,rising from a height of less thanone foot to more than 10 feet atthe center where the wallsintersect at an angle.

The walls are inscribed withthe names of the war dead, list-ed by date of death, and arefronted by a wide walkwayallowing visitors to walk by,stop and view names or pausefor a moment of reflection orprayer.

Berkowitz and his friendsloved the design.

“It was exactly what we hadwanted,” he said. “We specifi-cally said we didn’t want a stat-ue or anything that looked likeother memorials. We wantedsomething very personal andcontemplative in nature and,above all, it had to include thenames of all the dead. Wethought Maya Lin’s design wasbrilliant.”

Others disagreed. The pro-posed design was called a “pitof shame” by opponents inCongress and even someVietnam veterans. Oppositionto the design stalled construc-tion and heightened frustra-tions among Berkowitz and thecommittee.

“I thought, you didn’t carehow in the hell we died in thatwar, but now you want to tellus what kind of memorial wecan have?” Berkowitz said.“That wasn’t going to happen.

We thought it was fantasticseeing our brothers’ names upthere. It was like a living tributeto them. This country may nothave cared, but we were in lovewith that wall. We still are. It’sour heart and soul.”

The design was finallyapproved, but Berkowitz wasfurious when 200 members ofCongress who had opposed thememorial showed up to partici-pate in the groundbreaking.

“They had fought us toothand nail, and now they wantedto show up and look like theysupported us just to get theirpictures in the paper,” he said.“I wanted to take a shovel andcover them up.”

Construction finally beganand the monument was set tobe dedicated on Nov. 13, 1982.Berkowitz was asked to choose35 Vietnam veterans to act asescorts and guides for openingday ceremonies.

Four days before the memo-rial opened, Berkowitz and alarge group of volunteers gath-ered at the National Cathedraland read aloud each of the57,600 names then inscribed onThe Wall. More than 600names have since been added.

The day The Wall opened tothe public, more than 16,000visited, but the wounds fromthe fight to build the memorialwere still so fresh that MayaLin’s name was not mentionedonce during official dedicationceremonies, Berkowitz said.

Lin later said she felt like aVietnam veteran, too, becauseshe had suffered the same kindof treatment from opponents ofthe memorial as soldiers hadfrom those who opposed thewar.

Once visitors saw and under-stood the raw emotional powerof The Wall, it quickly becamethe capital’s most popularmemorial.

In 1984, a statue of three sol-diers was added to soothedetractors who had lobbied fora more conventional designelement. A statue honoringwomen who served in Vietnamwas added to the site in 1993.

Berkowitz has been back tovisit countless times. On the25th anniversary of the memo-rial’s dedication, Nov. 13, 2007,Berkowitz once again joined agroup of volunteers who readthe names of all who are hon-ored on The Wall.

Although Berkowitz stillharbors resentment over theway Vietnam veterans weretreated by the militarybureaucracy and their fellowcitizens, he has no reserva-tions about the memorial thatcelebrates the service of thosewho fought and died inVietnam.

“We think it’s spectacular,”Berkowitz said. “The specialstone they used allows us tosee the reflection of ourbrothers inside that wall.”

Berkowitz eventually leftthe VA and became an entre-preneur in D.C. before movingto Coweta County in 1996 tocontinue his business career.

Berkowitz is glad “The WallThat Heals” is coming toCoweta County, even thoughthe scale model cannot conveythe impact of the permanentmemorial in Washington.

“We fully support this wallvisit and any and all efforts tohelp Vietnam vets and all vets,”Berkowitz said.

Berkowitz said he is also gladto see Vietnam vets coming outof the shadows to accept recog-nition for their past service andsacrifice.

“They see how vets comingback from Afghanistan and Iraqare welcomed with open armsand they want to be a part ofthat,” Berkowitz said. “It’ssomething they never had. I’mglad to see them get the recog-nition they deserve. I’ll fight for

them forever.”Berkowitz is now active with

the Coweta County CancerSupport Group as well as theVFW, American Legion,Disabled American Veteransand the Marine Corps League.

He holds clinics every threemonths to help veterans applyfor medical assistance or dealwith other benefit-relatedproblems. Two months ago heheld a clinic for female vets

who struggle with problemsunique to women in the mili-tary.

Others are planned. Berkowitz also serves on the

committee of the CowetaCommission on VeteransAffairs responsible for bringing“The Wall That Heals” toCoweta.

“I’ll always be in love withthat wall,” he said. “It’s theghost that haunts me.”

Cowetan among those who fought for Vietnam Wall

Hank Berkowitz

Hank Berkowitz on patrol with a Marine Corps unit in the so-called“Arizona Territory,” located several miles south of Danang, Vietnam.

Hank Berkowitz, left, and a Marine Corps buddy at An Hoa,Vietnam.

Hank Berkowitz at the U.S. Marine Corps base in Danang.

Photo by Hank Berkowitz This scene shows part of the crowd present at dedication ceremonies for the Vietnam VeteransMemorial in Washington D.C. on November 13, 1982.


VETERANS


Steve Quesinberry, chairmanof the Social StudiesDepartment at Newnan HighSchool, teaches a class devotedexclusively to the Vietnam War.

Quesinberry’s tireless effortsresearching subject matter,preparing lessons and bringingin veterans to speak of theirwartime experiences has pro-duced a group of scholars whoare arguably more knowledge-able about the Vietnam Warthan any of their peers acrossthe nation.

Each year, Quesinberry askshis students to write essaysabout a particular aspect of thewar. Last year, several studentssubmitted essays about theVietnam Veterans Memorial.

As Coweta awaits the Oct.20-23 visit of the VietnamVeterans Memorial TravelingWall, “The Wall That Heals,” itis fitting to share some of thosestudent essays with readers.These were written by mem-bers of the NHS class of 2011.

By Ellen RayburnThe Vietnam Memorial in

Washington, D.C., commonlyreferred to as “The Wall,” wasdesigned by a college studentnamed Maya Lin. Her designwas chosen through a contestand was selected because of itsunique design. Unfortunately,Maya and her design created alot of controversy when it had

to bea p p rove dbefore itwas built.

M a y a ,a l t h o u g hb o r nAmerican,is of Asiand e s c e n t .Today [in2011] thatwould bean irrele-vant fact,

but when The Wall was beingbuilt, there was a lot of racismand anger built up againstAsians. The United States hadfought Japan in World War II,North Korea in the KoreanWar, and now they had justcome out of a long, unpopularwar against North Vietnam.There was a lot of resentmenttoward Asians and many peo-ple did not want the memorialdesigned by one.

As if these issues with herheritage were not enough,Maya’s design was just as con-troversial, if not more so. Shedescribed it as a “rift in theearth.” They described it as aPit of Shame. There would betwo granite walls with thenames of every soldier whohad died in Vietnam, from firstto last killed. Many of those inWashington wanted a grandstatue commemorating all ofthe brave things that soldiersdid when they were fightingoverseas. But the veteranswanted to commemorate theirfallen brothers. Instead of ashiny gold statue, The Wallwould be black, the color ofmourning. It would be reflec-tive, like a mirror, so that allwho look at it can see them-selves and think that it couldhave been their name on thatwall. It could have been any-body. The veterans loved it.

In the end, a compromisewas agreed upon. The Wall wasbuilt and so were several stat-ues that are placed nearby.Maya Lin’s ground-breakingdesign has now become knownas the “Wall that Heals.” Peoplecan travel to D.C. and find thename of their loved one whonever came home or theirbuddy from boot camp or theirbest friend from combat.Memorials are not really forthe dead. They are in name, buttheir real purpose is to servethe living that are left behind. Itgives them somewhere to puttheir pain and sorrow of nothaving someone in their livesanymore. When people comeand find the name of that per-son, it touches something

inside them. They can leavebehind something for thatyoung man, a flag, a teddy bear,or maybe a letter. But mostimportantly, they can leave thepain. No one will ever knowexactly why Maya’s wall is sopowerful in this way. It mendsbroken hearts, and reminds ustoday of the truly great sacri-fice that those men made in acountry far away.

* * *

By Mackenzie CrispMemorials come in many

forms, such as landmarkobjects, sculptures, statues,fountains, or even entire parks.They serve to commemorate amemory of something, usuallya person, an event, or a war.

The Vietnam Memorial isdedicated in remembrance ofthe Vietnam War, to those whoserved, to the families whowere left at home, to theAmerican public who watchedthe war from their livingrooms, and to the brave sol-diers who were not fortunateenough to return home.

The Vietnam Memorial sitsin Constitution Gardens inWashington, D.C. It is adjacentto the National Mall, northeastof the Lincoln Memorial, withthe Korean War Memorial tothe left. The Wall was officiallycompleted in 1982, with addi-tions made in 1993 and 2007.The design for The Wallbecame a national contest anda young architect was chosen,Maya Lin. Her plans for thememorial sparked controversyover her being of Asian decentand over the fact that thememorial would not be a tradi-tional limestone monument,like the rest in Washington,D.C. These controversies wereovercome, however in the“Great Compromise,” with theagreement that Maya Linwould incorporate a traditionalstatue along with her originalplan.

The Memorial Wall is madeup of two long walls of gabbrorock imported from India.They stretch 246.9 feet. Thewalls are sunk into the ground,

with theearth cov-ering upthe backsof them.They startoff small,f r o mo p p o s i n gdirections,g a i n i n gheight asthey cometogether in

the middle. At the apex, thewall reaches 10.1 feet high.

The Wall is comprised of 72panels, each etched with 70names, totaling 58,267 names ofthe men killed in action ormissing in action. The names ofeight women who were killedduring the conflict are alsoetched onto the wall. Thenames are in chronologicalorder of when the person died,beginning on Nov. 1, 1955, andending on May 15, 1975.

The two statues that solvedthe “Great Compromise” arelocated a short distance awayfrom The Wall. The first statueis made of bronze and is calledThe Three Soldiers and wasunveiled in 1984. It depictsthree unidentifiable soldiers,one white, one AfricanAmerican, and one hispanic.The soldiers seem to be look-ing to The Wall, in tribute totheir fallen comrades. The sec-ond addition to the memorial isthe Women’s Memorial. It islocated near The ThreeSoldiers and was dedicated tothe women of the United Stateswho served in the VietnamWar, most of whom were nurs-es. The Women’s Memorialwas added in 1993.

Today, more than three mil-lion visitors, from both aroundthe world and those that residein the country, visit theVietnam Memorial. It is votedone of the top memorials yearafter year. Veterans come topay their respects to fallencomrades and to try and heal

40-year-old wounds. Familiesof the lost soldiers come andleave letters for their lovedones, hoping to find solacefrom The Wall. Everyday peo-ple come, some young, someold; most of these people werenot affected by Vietnam direct-ly, but they come to see whatThe Wall is all about. All whovisit find that it leaves a lastingimpression, one that is hard toerase.

So, what makes this memori-al so different from others?Why is it the most visitedmemorial year, after year? Howdoes a wall, full of names, heala nation full of grief over pastmistakes? How does it remindAmerica of a war that shouldnever be forgotten and of theveterans who fought and diedfor the cause? And how does itteach generations to come thatwar is devastating and that thepast is the most importantaspect of the future?

Those questions are hard toanswer and many will havetheir own opinion, but to me itis the reflective quality of thestone that The Wall is made ofthat evokes such an impressionupon people. Visitors come andgaze onto The Wall. At firstthey see the thousands ofnames etched into it, but soon,the names fade and all that isleft is a reflection of them-selves. This is so powerful. Itshows that those names on thewall can be anyone’s names.After seeing a reflection ofyourself, you’re in the soldiers’boots and you think — it couldhave been me… it still can beme. They see themselves with-in The Wall and The Wall willnot let them forget the thou-sands of soldiers who died,while their country abandonedthem. This is what The Wall isall about, this is why The Wallis so ominous, yet people can-not stay away. The Wall is asymbol of war is. It is a dailyreminder to the nation, thatwar does not come withoutconsequences, and that anydecision which risks the livesof thousands is one that shouldnot be made lightly.

* * *

By Katie DavisThe Wall is the Vietnam

Memorial in Washington, D.C.It is the most memorable andvisited memorial inWashington, D.C., today. Whyis this? It is because of itsuniqueness. The Wall is notyour classic statue of anAmerican soldier holding a U.S.flag. Instead, the VietnamMemorial is made of two blackgranite walls. They are reflec-tive so that visitors can seetheir reflections in The Wall.On The Wall are over 58,000names. These are the names ofthe American’s who died in theVietnam War. The names are inchronological order of death.

The designer of this incredi-bly revolutionary and influen-tial memorial is a womannamed Maya Lin. Her design

won thecontest forthe designof theV i e t n a mMemorial.There wasmuch con-t r o v e r s yover bothMaya Linand herdesign. Asevidenced

by her name, Maya Lin is ofAsian decent. She is, of course,a legal U.S. citizen and wasactually born in America, butmany people were not happywith her designing the memori-al for the men who died fight-ing a war in Asia againstAsians. She believes that TheWall “conveys the sense ofoverwhelming numbers, whileunifying these individuals intoa whole.” To some people awall of names instead of a stat-ue as the memorial for theVietnam War seemed odd andeven disrespectful to the menand women who had died inthe war. The “Great

Compromise” settled this con-troversy. The Wall would bebuilt, but in addition to it, therewould be a statue of three sol-diers. This agreement satisfiedmost of the wall supporters andthe statue supporters.

The Wall is memorablebecause it is unlike any otherwar memorial. The reflectivegranite walls seem to touchpeople in a way statues cannot.I have been to The Wall andexperienced its wonder formyself. Seeing my reflectionmixed with the names of themen and women who died toprotect my freedom wasincredibly powerful. Thenames became more than justnames. I was able to imaginethe life that the name in frontof me might have lived. Howwould the world be differenttoday if even one name waserased from the list? To peoplewho know the person behindthe name on The Wall, TheWall can be a healing experi-ence. It is common for peopleto leave things by The Wall fortheir loved one who nevermade it home. Just touching thename can bring up the emo-tions and memories that wereburied along with that man orwoman. The Wall is truly amemorial that can connect thepeople of today to the peoplewho died in this war.

* * *

By Kayla CooperThe Vietnam Memorial in

Washington, D.C., was designedby a woman named Maya Lin.Before The Wall was built, peo-ple were trying to decide whatthe Vietnam Memorial shouldlook like, and when her designwas offered it was very contro-versial. The reason behind thatwas because most war memori-als at that time were statues

that repre-sented cer-tain peopleor certaingroups, andwhen herd e s i g n ,which wasjust a wallwith sol-d i e r snames onit, came upa lot of peo-

ple were frustrated with theidea of something completelydifferent.

The main problem that peo-ple had with her design wasthat it wasn’t a traditionalmemorial. Most of the peoplebelieved that it should be likeones that they had already hadsuch as a statue. Another prob-lem that came up was that shewas of Asian decent, which atthat time was a very big issuein the states; a lot of peoplewere against her idea justbecause of her race. Eventuallythere was a compromisebetween everyone, both TheWall and a statue were built inhonor of The Vietnam War. Itis also known as “The GreatCompromise.” I believe thisdesign turned out to be somemorial because it was com-pletely different from all theother memorials and it reallydemonstrated what was lostduring that war. By having ablack cut-stone masonry wallwith all the names of the fallensoldiers, people can see forthemselves how many peoplewere sacrificed and are able tohonor and remember each andevery soldier that lost theirlives for their country. Thismemorial is able to touch somany people because, unlikeother memorials, if you knewsomeone who had passed awayduring the war, you were ableto find them on that wall andyou got the option to trace his/her name on a sheet of paperso you could take a little pieceof them with you. Also, whenyou are looking at The Wallyou are able to see your reflec-tion on The Wall, which allowssome people to consider that itcould have been them on thatwall.

In many ways this memorialchanges peoples’ lives and by

being able to do that, thismemorial is more than a suc-cess, it is a wonderful gift inhonor of The Vietnam War.

* * *

By Drew TraylorThe Vietnam Memorial was

designed by Yale student MayaLin in a contest. This choicewas controversial because Linis of Chinese descent and vet-erans and other figures werenot happy that a descendant ofSoutheast Asia won the con-test. There was also controver-sy over the design itself. Thosein favor of a more traditionalwar memorial wanted somesort of statue while the mod-ernists were in favor of Lin’srevolutionary name design.Eventually, the “GreatCompromise” was reached and

a three-man statuewas erect-ed nearThe Wall.

I believethat thisd e s i g nturned outto be somemorablebecause itwas sounlike any

other memorial at that time.Never before had the names ofthe dead been in one placeside-by-side. Lin designed TheWall so that all those wholooked at it would see them-selves in the reflection, remind-ing them that they could havebeen a name on that wall. Ibelieve that the VietnamMemorial is such a touchingexperience because it personal-izes the deaths of the soldiersthrough the use of names. TheWall allows for visitors to fullygrasp the scope of the war, fora person can see just what58,000 dead looks like. Prior tovisiting the monument, I didnot fully understand just howmany people died in the war.But once I was there, I wasoverwhelmed by the lines andlines of names.

* * *

By Elizabeth RandThe Vietnam Memorial,

commonly known as “TheWall,” is the most visitedmemorial in Washington, D.C.This wall stands to honor allthose who bravely served ourcountry in Vietnam without thesupport or praise fromAmericans at home. Althoughit is little compensation for theterrible treatment of returningtroops, The Wall is the mostmemorable and uniquelydesigned monument inWashington.

Part of the prominence of theVietnam Memorial is derivedfrom its construction. The Wallwas designed in a contest wonby a young girl, Maya Lin. Thiswould not have been a problemif Maya were not of Chinesedescent. The idea of an Asian

w o m a ndesigningthis memo-rial both-ered manyve t e r a n s .Howeve r,once thedesign wasr e ve a l e d ,the deci-sion wasclear, andconstruc-

tion on Washington’s mostinnovative memorial began.The memorial is essentiallywalls sunken into the groundwith earth rising up behindthem, creating a secludedatmosphere. The Wall lists58,000-plus troops killed in thewar in chronological order ofdeath. At the time, this struc-ture was very unconventionaland modern. Many veteransdid not want to accept this newstyle memorial to honor theirservice. Consequently, a sculp-ture of three Vietnam soldierswas built next to The Wall toappease those against The

Wall. This became known as“The Great Compromise.”

Thirty years later, The Wallstill serves as a strong reminderof the soldiers who laid downtheir lives for the country theyloved. Many features have beenadded since, such as theVietnam Women’s Memorialand the Traveling Wall, butnone compare to the greatnessof The Wall itself. Not onlydoes it remind people of thesacrifice those brave soldiersmade for all Americans, TheWall also breaks the mold bystarting the trend of listingnames, turning it into a morepersonal and touching memori-al. For this reason, the VietnamMemorial is one of the mostknown and imitated monu-ments. It is impossible to visitThe Wall and not feel an over-whelming sense of respect andgrief for the names listed.Those brave men and theirservice will forever be remem-bered by America through asimple tribute 58,000 nameslong.

* * *

By Jazzmine VannAs you walk down the path

with your fingers gently glidingacross each name that isinscribed into the black granitewall, you begin to overflowwith all types of emotions;pride for those who fought forthe freedoms that we enjoytoday, pain for the lives thatwere lost, and hope that a warof this magnitude never hap-pens again. Who would havethought forty to fifty odd yearsago that the Vietnam WarMemorial would be one of the

most influ-ential andmost visit-ed memori-als in pres-ent time?T h i smemor ia lhas been agreat wayto providepeace forthe families

of the deceased soldiers, butalso a way for the United Statesas a whole to pay our finalrespects to the soldiers who weonce neglected and despised.

Since its completion in 1982,the Vietnam War Memorial hasbecome the most popularmemorial in the United States.Over three million people visitThe Wall each year. The wall’spopularity highly revolvesaround the design. Having thenames or each and every manand woman who served duringthe Vietnam War is a constantreminder of the chaos that theveterans went through. As ofJune of 2010, there are 58,275names of men and women onThe Wall. All these peoplerisked their lives for freedomsthat we enjoy and even takefor granted to this day. Peoplefrom all walks of life havecome to visit the wall to paytheir respects to the fallen sol-diers and nurses, even peoplewho were once against thewar. This brilliantly-designedwall has been a very therapeu-tic way to grieve for thosewhom we once would spit onand call baby-killers. This wallhas helped heal the brokenhearts of mothers, fathers, sis-ters, brothers, wives, children,families and friends. This wallhas been our shoulder to leanon when we shed tears for all58,275 men and women.

Unlike most memorials, wewill always be able to see thedestruction of war wheneverwe visit the VietnamMemorial. There will be noneed for a history book whenit comes to the Vietnam War,only a short trip to the wall.The story is written in thenames written on The Wall.

Never again will they be neg-lected or criticized, only lovedand praised for all that theyhave done, and continue to do.

Students share their class essays on ‘The Wall That Heals’

Rayburn

Crisp

Davis

Vann

Cooper

Traylor

Rand

NEWNAN HIGH SCHOOL


VETERANS

Our thoughts are with the brave men

and women serving our country and

the ones who served before them.

MAKING SENSE OF INVESTINGMAKING SENSE OF INVESTING

Art Holbrook6 Jefferson Pkwy., Suite A, Newnan770-251-3500

Tony Bell53 Main StreetSuite B, Senoia770-599-3981

Winfred G. Boyce, Jr.10 The Boulevard,Suite 5, Newnan770-251-8316

Sam Madaris, Jr.7 East Broad Street

Newnan770-251-8391

Jim Smothers820 Ebenezer Church Rd.,

Suite 104, Sharpsburg770-252-2391

Minesh Amin1741 Newnan Crossing

Blvd. E., Suite DNewnan

770-252-3742

www.edwardjones.com Member SIPC

Bill Whitehouse820 Ebenezer Church Rd.,

Suite 104, Sharpsburg770-252-2391


From Oct. 20-23, the VietnamVeterans Memorial TravelingWall, better known as “TheWall That Heals,” will be ondisplay 24 hours a day at theCoweta County Fairgrounds.

The Wall and associatedexhibits will be seen by thou-sands of Coweta citizens andmany others expected to comefrom neighboring counties andneighboring states.

Visitors will include veteranswho served in Vietnam andAmerica’s other wars, includ-ing the Cold War. The Wall willalso be viewed by friends andfamily members of veterans,both living and dead. Otherswho have no personal connec-tion with The Wall or a partic-ular veteran, will stop by just toremember the sacrifices ourveterans past and present makefor their fellow citizens.

Each person who visits willcome away with a uniquememory or perspective aboutThe Wall, what it representsand what it can teach us. Inconcluding a special 14-weekseries on the Vietnam War, TheNewnan Times-Herald askedthe three individuals who areclosely associated with veter-ans programs and the VietnamWar experience to share intheir own words what TheWall means to them and why itmatters.

* * *

Dick Stender has lived inNewnan since 1987. He is a localleader in veterans programs andhas served as commander of thelocal American Legion andVFW Posts. Stender was one ofthe leaders of the effort to create,fund and construct the VeteransMemorial Plaza in the Newnancity park at Jackson Street andTemple Avenue.

‘A Wall of Memories’By Dick Stender

In July of 1969, I was a brandnew warrant officer, leaving awife and four sons, all 5 orunder, for Vietnam.

I wanted to go to there, andfinally, after numerousrequests, I was on my way.Fourteen years of servicewould, to me, be incompletewithout a combat tour.

Each week I would read thecasualty lists in the ArmyTimes and frequently wouldfind the name of someone whohad given his life, someonewho had once been a small partof my life.

My time in Vietnam waslargely spent in some logisticalendeavors. Like everyone, I

knew theterror of a122 mmrocket, sap-per incur-sions andan ambushor two, butthe toe-to-toe dailygrind ofkill or bekilled wasnot to be

experienced. When I rotated home in 1970,

I landed in California and thenwas to fly out from the SanFrancisco Airport to my newbase in El Paso. As part of agroup of my fellow returnees, Igot off the bus at the airport,where a group of demonstra-tors assailed us with uglywords and gestures and severalthrew trash and spit at us. AnArmy major in our groupbegan to weep, muttering overand over, “Why is this happen-ing?”

Returning home, I againbegan the list watching, feelingguilty for surviving when somany young soldiers weredying. There seemed to bemore names of old comradesduring the next few years, andmy anxiety and guilt causedme to stop talking about thewar, to stop remembering, evento my family. My disgust forthe anti-war faction and theJane Fondas of this countryoften caused the loss of friends,most of whom had neverserved in uniform.

In 1982, I was a CW4, at thetop of the ladder and wasassigned as an instructor at theEngineer School at Ft. Belvoir,just outside Washington. Iknew that the Vietnam Wallwas under construction, amemorial to the dead and anapology to we who had servedthere. In the late fall of 1983, Ft.Belvoir was asked to form aunit of Vietnam veterans tomarch in the dedicationparade, and my name was onthe list.

I reported to my commanderand told him that I would notbe attending. He asked why,

and I explained about my feel-ing of guilt and also my angerat my country for what I feltwas disloyalty to the sacrificeof so many who went andserved its policies and purpos-es in Vietnam. He immediatelyhad his clerk prepare a writtenorder and had it signed by thecommanding general, directingme to march in the parade.

On the morning of theparade, our caravan of busesdeparted for Washington. I wastold to sit in the bus with thegeneral and most of his staff. Atthe parade marshaling area, weformed into a 270-man unit. Itwas the usual “tallest in thefront row” formation. As weheard the strains of the U.S.Army Band and prepared tostep off, the general tapped meon the shoulder and said,“Chief, you’re carrying theCorps of Engineers flag,” as hehanded it to me.

So there I was, the only onewho did not want to be there,marching out in front and car-rying the Essayons Engineerflag.

We marched the route, linedwith thousands and thousandsof people cheering and holdingup signs that said “Thank YouFor Serving” and “We AreSorry For Blaming You.” I wasastounded and surprised thatso many of them knew how somany of us felt. I passed theflag to a young sergeant andjoined the ranks till we reachedthe Memorial Wall.

There were speeches andceremonies, after which wewere excused to view the wallup close.

I was reluctant to approachthe engraved names, but mycommander grabbed my armand led me down the panels. Ifound the names of DickWhitehead, Bruce Yates andMorton Townes, and as Itouched Mort’s name I beganto cry and sob. I felt many armsaround me and looked to seethe general and my command-er among them. I apologizedfor breaking down and the gen-eral looked me in the eye andsaid, “Chief, that’s the reasonthis wall is here. It will healyou.”

By God, he was right. I washealed by that visit, by theshow of support of those alongthe parade and by the loveshown by my fellow soldiers.

I still have the pin they gaveout that day. It is a replica ofthe Vietnam Service Medal,with the inscription: “MarchingAlong Together Again.”

I have visited the wall severaltimes since and each time Iwas brought to tears; tears ofpure sorrow, free of guilt andanger.

I anticipate I will cry again,when “The Healing Wall”comes to Newnan, but the tearswon’t be for Dick Stender, theywill be for those names on thewall and for my comrades, stillwaiting to be healed.

In the spirit of the general’swords to me, “That’s why webrought the wall to Coweta.”

* * *

Steve Quesinberry is chair-man of the Social StudiesDepartment at Newnan HighSchool. He teaches a class aboutthe Vietnam War and knowshow important it is to keeptelling the story of that grimchapter of American history andto constantly remind studentsthat even unpopular wars pro-duce heroes and that theAmerican military’s devotion toduty, honor and country is notdimmed or diminished by politi-cal reaction or public opinionback home.

Quesinberry has been recog-nized by numerous local veteranorganizations for bringing veter-ans into Newnan High School tohelp teach his students. To cele-brate the visit of The Wall ThatHeals,” Quesinberry wrote thefollowing.

‘Thoughts onTraveling Wall’

By Steve Quesinberry

John Stuart Mill, Britishphilosopher and Member ofParliament, once said that “theworld consists largely of weakmen made and kept free bybetter men than themselves.”

As you study the history ofthe world, this statement seemsmore and more inspired.

People tend to see history aslinear, yet there are numerousplaces where history couldhave been sidetracked and ledinto different outcomes that donot include a United States as abeacon of freedom.

The battle at Tours, thedefeat of the Spanish Armada,the rout of Napoleon’s ImperialGuard at Waterloo, the con-frontation at Yorktown, thedesperate struggle at MidwayIsland or the decision to invade

the Norman coastline on June6, 1944. In all of these battlesthat lead to or preserve theAmerican way of life, you cansee the “better men” that Millrefers to. They should not beforgotten.

We see this same phenome-non at the Vietnam Memorial,whether we go to it or it comesto us. This month’s visit of“The Wall That Heals” isimportant to the students andthe people of this community— not because of what the wallis made of, the fact that itreflects its surroundings oreven its dimensions.

It is important because itallows us to see and rememberthose “better men” that Millreferences.

Look carefully at the photo-graphs of these men includedin the stories produced by TheNewnan Times-Herald prior tothe visit of The Wall and in thespecial insert that will be avail-able while The Wall is on dis-play from Oct. 20-23.

Coweta County produced“better men” then, and Ibelieve still does today. On noaccount should we forget.

This week is also significantto those that did not die butfrequently came home to a hos-tile or a merely apathetic popu-

lace. Col.Hal Moore,command-er of the 1stBattalion,7 t hC a v a l r y,once stat-ed, “Hatewar, butlove theAmericanWarrior.”

T h e s e“better men” served and oftentook the brunt of the war’sunpopularity. Politicians sentour young men to war — wemust never forget.

This event is imperative forour students as it helps bringthem face to face with the past— whether you stare at thenames that seem to go on end-lessly or you shake the hand ofa veteran that did return safely.

At Newnan High School, weattempt to bring our studentsinto contact with history itselfthrough these veterans andtheir stories. Our Student-VetConnect program forces stu-dents to literally reach backinto the past and make a con-nection with these “bettermen.”

This is the way historyshould be — touched, not for-gotten.

In a town that remembersand commemorates its historylike Newnan, the war inVietnam does seem largely for-gotten. It does not connectwith local people today, per-haps because of the dramaticgrowth over the last twodecades or just that peoplehave tried to put the ugliness ofthis period behind them.

Yet Coweta County is verymuch represented in this era,with two Medal of Honorrecipients, 23 killed in actionand more than 500 men andwomen in Coweta County thatserved. We cannot forget.

When you visit the travelingwall during its stop in Coweta,look closely and see the bestthat America had. Look aroundfor one of those “better men”that are volunteering. Shaketheir hand and tell them “thankyou.” We should alwaysremember.

* * *

David Jessel served in theU.S. Navy from 1961 to 1982 andretired with the rank of Lt.Commander. Since moving toNewnan in 1989, he has beenactive with the AmericanLegion, the VFW and theMarquis de Lafayette Chapter ofthe Sons of the AmericanRevolution. He is a DeaconEmeritus at First Baptist Churchof Newnan. Jessel submittedthese thoughts on his serviceand the visit of “The Wall ThatHeals.”

‘The Wall That Heals’By David Jessel

In mid-September 1971, twoweeks before I was scheduledto return to the world [fromVietnam], I had a serious con-versation with my interpreter,an ARVN (Army Republic ofVietnam) Sergeant.

He was far more than a“mouthpiece.” He was like hav-ing another officer on my staff.In his performance evaluation,I recommended him for OfficerCandidate School. His voicedconcern was that once theAmericans left Vietnam, ourgovernment would shut offfunding to the government ofSouth Vietnam and that SouthVietnam could not fight the

communists without our finan-cial aid.

This conversation occurredin Rach Gia, Kien GiangProvince, where I was theFourth Coastal ZoneIntelligence Officer (4CZIO).The 4CZIO Cadre amounted to10 officers, two enlisted intelli-gence clerks and two inter-preters.

We served as NavalIntelligence Liaison Officersand ran overt and covert intelli-gence operations. My area ofoperations included the twowestern provinces of the Deltaand the adjacent waters.

This was probably the mosthostile area in South Vietnamand an enemy stronghold formany years, particularly the UMinh Forest. With the intelli-gence generated by my NILOs,a large number of successfuloperations were conducted.Once the 21st ARVN com-menced operations into the UMinh Forest, the enemy lostcontrol of the area.

From 1970-1971 the outcomeof the Vietnam War clearlyturned. Both our governmentand the government of SouthVietnam could have “declaredvictory” at any time, but theydid not!

Throughout South Vietnamthe enemy had lost its capabili-ty to launch a major operationand was reduced to minor “ter-rorist type” operations.

We had more real-time intel-ligence than we had opera-tional assets available torespond to the intelligence andto neutralize these targets. Irequested assistance fromSaigon and received one offi-cer, two Chief Petty Offices,and one E-6. They wereassigned to me for about threeweeks, and through extensivedebriefings, received signifi-cant operational intelligence.

A number of successfulSEAL operations resulted fromthis intelligence, including thebusting of a POW camp wherethree American had been held.The Americans had alreadybeen moved to another loca-tion, but a large number ofSouth Vietnamese were repa-triated and the enemy guardswere killed.

I explained all this success tomy interpreter and tried to

assure him that my country hadlost far too many lives and hadfar too much of an investmentin South Vietnam to everdesert them.

I have made many mistakesin my life, but this may havebeen one of the biggest,because a few years later,Congress drastically cut thefinancial aid to the SouthVietnamese government andits war effort.

It was like hoisting a largered flag that said “Come onDown - North Vietnam!” SouthVietnam was invaded and con-quered a few years later. I con-sider every member of theUnited States Senate and theHouse that voted to virtuallystop financial aid to the South

Vietnameseg o v e r n -ment to bea traitor, ifnot to theUSA atleast to“ T h eCause.”

My guessis that onlya verysmall per-centage of

Americans know that SouthVietnam fell because ourCongress cut off funding.

Most Vietnam veterans inter-viewed in stories published inThe Newnan Times-Heraldhave indicated that even know-ing the final outcome, theywere glad they served and thatthey would do it again. I don’tknow if I would.

Why were we there in thefirst place, if we were going tocut and run? Because my father(Navy Seabee) died July 5, 1945,I was both draft exempt andcombat exempt. I enlisted toattend OCS right out of collegeand I volunteered for Vietnamduty a couple of times.

I had no use for protestersthen, and I have no use forthem now. The media was amajor problem during the war,but so was the silence of theVFW and the AmericanLegion. Both these fine organi-zations have since admittedtheir mistake in not speakingup in support of our troops.They have vowed that willnever happen again!

As I reflected on my Vietnamexperiences prior to writingthis paper, I realized just howmany names were on theVietnam Veterans Memorialthat I had some knowledge ofor had been involved with theirfamilies.

In 1964 while I was attendingNavy Post Graduate School inMonterey, Ca., my next doorneighbor was a combat medicwho already had three Vietnamtours. Several years later, hisDanish wife told us that he hadbeen killed in action on his fifthor sixth tour.

Another neighbor, a sergeantwith a young German wife andtwo small children, deployed to‘Nam and I heard from his wifethat his outpost had been over-run and that he had been shotin the head.

Also, the top graduate from aone-year Vietnamese languagecourse was an Army captainand he got a nice write-up inthe local newspaper. Aboutthree weeks later the samepaper ran a story with a pictureof him receiving the award andreported that he had beenkilled in action his first day incountry.

When I was on the Admiral’sstaff in New York City, I wasthe director of the CasualtyAssistance Calls program and,as such, I was responsible fordirecting Naval officers fromvarious commands to visit andnotify next of kin that theirfather or brother or husbandhad been killed in action.

The Casualty Assistant Callsofficer then assisted the familywith burial arrangements andwith the settlement of theestate. There may be up to ahundred of their names on TheWall.

While serving on the USSBelknap off the coast of NorthVietnam for about six monthsin 1967-1968, I spoke to aircraftpilots eight hours a day. Someof these pilots ended up asPOWs for years and some havetheir names engraved on TheWall. On a positive note, thesearch-and-rescue helicopterslaunched from my ship

Visit of ‘The Wall That Heals’ has special meaning

Stender

Quesinberry

Jessel

See MEANING, page 23

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recovered two downed pilotsand the ship picked up anotherpilot.

On Thanksgiving Day 1970,eight or 10 Seabees from BinhThey decided to come visittheir buddies in Rach Gia.They were not prepared totravel through Kien GiangProvince, even during the day.All were executed on the spotby the Vietcong. Their names

appear on The Wall. So does the name of Col.

Richard Wright Ellison, whowas killed in action on Feb. 16,1971, along with one of his bestsergeants. Col. Ellison hadserved in WWII and Koreaand had several Vietnam tours.He could not remember myrank (lieutenant commander),so he referred to me as hisNavy major.

When Lester James Moe,USN, was killed on March 29,1971, by a booby trap, I had tobreak the news to one of hisclosest friends in Saigon. Moe

was on his sixth Vietnam tourwith SEAL Team One.

I was stationed inWashington, D.C., when con-struction started on The Walland I retired on July 1, 1982,several months before theVietnam Veterans Memorialwas dedicated. I had no inten-tions of ever visiting The Wall.I had many friends thatencouraged me to visit thememorial, but I just was notinterested.

I moved my family toNewnan in December 1989. Ivisited the D.C. area about

once a year, and sometimestwice, yet I never visited TheWall.

In 2006 my wife and I deliv-ered several suitcases of sup-plies collected by the GeneralDaniel Newnan Chapter ofNational Society Daughters ofthe American Revolution toWalter Reed Army Hospitalfor the wounded veterans.

After dropping off the sup-plies, my wife suggested wevisit the World War IIMemorial. After touring thebeautiful WW II Memorial fora couple of hours, I suggested

that we walk over to the KoreaMemorial. I was moved by theKorea Memorial.

Out of the clear, I suggestedwe walk over to the VietnamWall. I don’t recall any specialfeelings as I walked the lengthof The Wall, but I also failed tosearch for any names. I saw astrange beauty in the simplici-ty of The Wall’s design andmessage. I also read the painand hurt of some of the visi-tors to the memorial. Since thatinitial visit, I have visited TheWall several times and evenlooked up a few names.

I also have visited at two ofthe Traveling Memorial Walldisplays. At an opening cere-mony several years ago I hearda U.S. Army Colonel make apowerful presentation. I toldmy wife that I wished everysenator and congress personcould be required to listen to it.

I don’t know how the visitof the memorial will impactthose who come to theCoweta County Fairgrounds,but if just one next of kin orone Vietnam veteran gets someclosure, then the costs andefforts are worth it.

MEANINGContinued from page 22

The visit of ‘The Wall That Heals’ has special meaning to residents of Coweta


Ironically, the nation’smost unpopular warinspired the most heavily-visited monument inWashington, D.C. — per-haps because the VietnamVeterans Memorial is theonly war monument to listthe names of all thosekilled in the war.

As of August 2011, theVietnam VeteransMemorial was inscribedwith the names of 58,272American military person-nel.

According to informationfrom Vietnam VeteransMemorial, names inscribedon the wall came from a listof combat zone casualtiesaccording to criteria estab-lished in a 1965 PresidentialExecutive Order.

That executive orderspecified Vietnam, Laos,Cambodia and coastal areasas combat zones. If theDepartment of Defense,acting in accordance withthese directives, consideredan individual to be aVietnam conflict fatality orto be missing, his/her namewould be included.

In later years, otherselected military personnelwho did not actually die inVietnam, Laos, Cambodiaor coastal areas wereallowed to be recognizedon the memorial wall. Thishappened when the geo-graphic criteria wereenlarged to include peoplekilled outside the war zonewhile on or in support ofdirect combat missions.The new directive alsoallowed the inclusion of 15servicemen who subse-quently died of woundsreceived in Vietnam.

Of the 58,272 names onthe memorial wall, 23 arelisted as having CowetaCounty as their official“Home of Record,” or arelisted in the History ofCoweta County as havingCoweta roots, includingbeing buried in CowetaCounty.

These 23 Vietnam veter-ans who made the ultimatesacrifice for their nationwill be honored at a specialceremony on Oct. 23 at 2p.m. at the Coweta CountyFairgrounds as part of the2011 Veterans Muster,which is paying specialtribute to Vietnam veter-ans. Names, ranks anddates of death are thoselisted on the VietnamVeterans Memorial. Burialplaces — if known — arelisted here.

23 Cowetans’ names listed on Vietnam Memorial Wall■ Terry Allen Jr.

Military home ofrecord: Newnan.Born, Jan. 5, 1948,died June 23, 1968.Corporal, U.S. Army.Buried in EastgateCemetery, Newnan.

Terry Allen Jr. ishonored on Panel55W, Row 20 of theVietnam VeteransMemorial.

■ Johnny C.Calhoun. Militaryhome of record:Newnan. Born July14, 1945, died March27, 1968. SergeantFirst Class, U.S.Army.

Johnny C. Calhounis honored on Panel46E, Row 45 of theVietnam VeteransMemorial.

■ Jessie CliffordCofield. Militaryhome of record:Newnan. BornAugust 2, 1946, diedSept. 13, 1967.Corporal, U.S. Army.Buried in Oak HillCemetery, Newnan.

Jessie CliffordCofield is honoredon Panel 26E, Row 65of the VietnamVeterans Memorial.

■ Timothy Cole Jr.Military home ofrecord: Newnan.Born Dec. 19, 1946,died Oct. 18, 1968.Warrant officer, U.S.Army. Buried inMacedonia BaptistChurch Cemetery,Newnan.

Timothy Cole Jr. ishonored on Panel41W, Row 72 of theVietnam VeteransMemorial.

■ Robert EdwardCouch. Militaryhome of record:Senoia. Born July 22,1949, died Dec. 30,1968. Sergeant, U.S.Army. Buried SenoiaCity Cemetery.

Robert EdwardCouch is honored onPanel 35W, Row 8 ofthe VietnamVeterans Memorial.

■ John TillmanDozier II. Militaryhome of record:Atlanta. Born March24, 1951, died June 18,1971. Staff Sergeant,U.S. Army.

John TillmanDozier II is honoredon Panel 3W, Row 80of the VietnamVeterans Memorial.

■ Grady Lee Elder.Military home ofrecord: Grantville.Born May 11, 1936,died June 11, 1966.Sergeant, U.S. Army.

Grady Lee Elder ishonored on Panel 8E,Row 36 of theVietnam VeteransMemorial.

■ Bobby Freeman.Military home ofrecord: Grantville.Born November 20,1945, died Aug. 12,1968. Sergeant, U.S.Army. Buried inGrantville CityCemetery.

Bobby Freeman ishonored on Panel49W, Row 53 of theVietnam VeteransMemorial.

■ Arthur Hines.Military home ofrecord: Grantville.Born May 24, 1941,died Feb. 10, 1968.Private First Class,U.S. Army. Buried inGrantville CityCemetery.

Arthur Hines ishonored on Panel38E, Row 72 of theVietnam VeteransMemorial.

■ Thomas PateHuddleston. Militaryhome of record:Newnan. Born Sept.4, 1946, died Nov. 19,1967. SpecialistFourth Class, U.S.Army. Buried in OakHill Cemetery.

Thomas PateHuddleston is hon-ored on Panel 30E,Row 27 of theVietnam VeteransMemorial.

■ Warner PraterHughie. Militaryhome of record:Newnan. Born Jan. 4,1949, died March 12,1970. Corporal, U.S.Army. Buried in OakHill Cemetery,Newnan.

Warner PraterHughie is honoredon Panel 13W, Row118 of the VietnamVeterans Memorial.

■ James ClaytonKerr. Military homeof record: Palmetto.Born June 16, 1948,died Dec. 6, 1968.Sergeant, U.S. Army.

James ClaytonKerr is honored onPanel 37W, Row 51 ofthe VietnamVeterans Memorial.

■ Donald StevenLowery. Militaryhome of record:Newnan. Born July29, 1947, died Feb. 15,1967. Private FirstClass, U.S. Army.Buried in Oak HillCemetery, Newnan.

Donald StevenLowery is honored onPanel 15E, Row 33 ofthe Vietnam VeteransMemorial.

■ Larry GunnellPinson. Militaryhome of record:Grantville. Born Jan.27, 1950, died Sept. 19,1969. Lance Corporal,U.S. Marine Corps.

Larry GunnellPinson is honored onPanel 18W, Row 114 ofthe Vietnam VeteransMemorial.

■ Daniel ZacharyPost Jr. Military homeof record.Brownsville, Tx. BornJan. 16, 1943, died July31, 1966. Corporal,U.S. Marine Corps.Buried in Oak HillCemetery, Newnan.

Daniel ZacharyPost Jr. is honored onPanel 9E, Row 92 ofthe Vietnam VeteransMemorial.

■ Edgar StevanPittman. Militaryhome of record:Newnan. Born Sept.28, 1949, died June 23,1969. SpecialistFourth Class, U.S.Army. Buried inSouthview Cemetery,Moreland.

Edgar StevanPittman is honoredon Panel 21W, Row 1of the VietnamVeterans Memorial.

■ Jerry LynnSmith. Military homeof record: Newnan.Born Aug. 12, 1947,died Jan. 3, 1968.Sergeant, U.S. Army.Buried in Oak HillCemetery, Newnan.

Jerry Lynn Smith ishonored on Panel33E, Row 32 of theVietnam VeteransMemorial.

■ Leavy CarltonSolomon. Militaryhome of record:Palmetto. Born Oct. 3,1946, died Jan. 11, 1969.Specialist FourthClass, U.S. Army.

Leavy CarltonSolomon is honoredon Panel 35W, Row 73of the VietnamVeterans Memorial.

■ William HenryThomas Jr. Militaryhome of record:Senoia. Born June10, 1951, died March25, 1970. LanceCorporal, U.S.Marine Corps.

William HenryThomas Jr. is hon-ored on Panel 12W,Row 44 of theVietnam VeteransMemorial.

■ Wayne JacksonVessell. Militaryhome of record:Senoia. Born May 6,1944, died July 14,1968. Private FirstClass, U.S. MarineCorps. Buried atPleasant Hill BaptistChurch.

Wayne JacksonVessell is honored onPanel 52W, Row 32of the VietnamVeterans Memorial.

■ Charles EdwardWalthall. Militaryhome of record:Palmetto. Born Feb.10, 1948, died May 21,1968. Private FirstClass, U.S. Army.

Charles EdwardWalthall is honoredon Panel 65E, Row 3of the VietnamVeterans Memorial.

■ Joseph MichaelWatson. Militaryhome of record:Moreland. Born Feb.28, 1948, died Jan. 8,1968. LanceCorporal, U.S.Marine Corps.Buried in Oak HillCemetery.

Joseph MichaelWatson is honoredon Panel 34E, Row 2of the VietnamVeterans Memorial.

■ Robert MitchellWebb Jr. Militaryhome of record:Columbus. Born July11, 1945, died Oct. 17,1971. FirstLieutenant, U.S.Army. Buried in OakHill Cemetery.

Robert MitchellWebb Jr. is honoredon Panel 2W, Row 42of the VietnamVeterans Memorial.

Allen Jr.

Calhoun

Cofield

Cole Jr.

Couch

Dozier

Elder

Hines

Freeman

Huddleston

Hughie

Kerr

Lowery

Pinson

Post Jr.

Pittman

Smith

Solomon

Thomas Jr.

Vessell

Walthall

Watson

Webb Jr.


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Vietnam Veterans Edition