Category Archives: Viet Nam

Returning to Viet Nam

Jerry Noga, a retired Army officer and an old OCS classmate, will spend the week after Christmas traveling in Viet Nam with a buddy. He’s planning to stop in at Hoi An, south of Da Nang, the only readily-visitable place where I spent much time, so I’m hoping for a decent photo of what the old MACV compound there looks like now. These trips are an idea more and more veterans have succumbed to in recent years. I’m still trying to convince my old no. 2 to return with me "to those thrilling days of yesteryear," but so far he’s resisting. Says he didn’t leave anything there, except some blood and he doesn’t miss it.

The second of the third

Old friend and OCS classmate Russell Wheat recently donated a large sum to his favorite charity, the Methodist Children’s Home, a Waco orphanage, "in memory of thirty-seven men of 3rd Platoon, B Company, 2nd Battalion, 3rd Infantry, killed in action in Viet Nam 1968-1969." This was an illustrious outfit of the 199th Light Infantry Brigade–which patrolled around Saigon and Bien Hoa–apparently, in fact, Russ’s own platoon. I’m going to call and ask him about it this afternoon. Meanwhile, I will repeat the memorial here. R.I.P.

Lt.jg. Frank E. Hand, III, R.I.P.

The remains of South Carolina native and P-3 Orion co-pilot Frank Hand, lost with eleven other crew members when their plane was downed off the coast of Viet Nam in 1968, finally have been repatriated and will be interred today in the Dallas-Fort Worth National Cemetery. Four F/A-18 Hornets will fly over the service for the Eagle Scout who grew up in Fort Worth.

Via Patterico 

Yay Us Day

OC504-68.jpg

Next year I’ll get something new, but for the second year in a row, I think this will do for Veterans Day–the seal/decal of my old OCS class and the various places we served in Vietnam. Also this, which takes me back to the American Revolution, on my mother’s side, to Thomas Farrar, a lieutenant colonel in the South Carolina "line" of the Continental Army, and Claudius Pegues, Jr., a captain in the South Carolina militia. I suspect our military service goes back much farther, but I don’t know anything about it. And, while we’re at it, let’s not forget the wannabees, who are sure to be strutting around today in their phony uniforms. No sweat. Let them play, if it makes them feel any better.

Friendly atmosphere

On my second visit to Austin’s VA Health Clinic I was impressed by everything: the friendly people, the clean facilities, the new equipment. Got a flu shot from a tech with a no-pain technique. The doc I was assigned to wanted to run me through the normal blood work, but I pointed out I was scheduled for the full deal, including EKG and X-Rays, Dec. 11 in Temple for the Agent Orange Registry. Did he want to duplicate it? Fine with me. He didn’t. I especially liked the ambience that everyone’s on the same page. I saw why my late father-in-law, a Navy retiree, preferred VA hospitals to private ones. PTSD questions in the med exam surprised me. I think they’re more for new veterans of Afghanistan and Iraq than Vietnam after so many years. Nevertheless. Nightmares? Check. Fear of loud noises? Nope. Avoid situations reminding of combat? Nope. Feelings of detachment from others? That one surprised me. I thought it over and said I would have to answer yes. Wondering now what the Temple exam will uncover in December.

John Arthur Deering, R.I.P.

Chuck Adams, an OC-504 buddy of mine who served as an AFVN station manager on Monkey Mountain near Da Nang, tells me Deering died unexpectedly Monday at his home in Millersville, TN. He was 64. A retired  Marine NCO, Deering was awarded the Silver Star, Bronze Star, and Purple Heart for service with AFVN. He spent five years as a POW after capture during the TET Offensive of 1968 while running an AFVN radio and television station in Hue. He was tortured and held in solitary for two of those years. Rest in peace, John.

MORE: The rest of the story, about AFVN’s POWs. 

First encounter with VA

Actually, it was my second encounter. The first was in 1971, when I used the G.I. Bill to go to graduate school. But that was just by mail. This was the local health clinic, where this morning I began the process of getting on the Agent Orange Registry. I though it was to be a health checkup. Instead, it was a signup, getting a picture i.d. done and being assigned to a doctor. The first checkup with him will be at the end of October.

The clinic was packed. They handle military retirees these days as well as veterans with little or no private health insurance. The Military Order of the Purple Heart was serving coffee. The security guard asked me if I was carrying a weapon or a knife. I said no. There was a long table of service caps and unit pins for sale, mostly Vietnam units, in case you shed your military identity years ago and now you want it back. The clinic is in the highest-crime part of town–where the land is cheapest, I suppose–so it’s surrounded by a high fence topped with concertina razor-wire. That’s a reminder of how military service is degraded in this country: Once the pols, the news media and Hollywood finish beating you up, you get shabby health care. It’s a wonder anyone serves. Better would be the system that Navy veteran Robert Heinlein wrote about in "Starship Troopers," where only veterans were allowed to vote or hold public office. That would really shake up this society.