Life, Death and Faith on the Battlefield
Growing up in the 40's and 50's was a great thing. It was a wonderful time to be a kid and living out in the countryside. I had uncles and cousins that had come back from WWII and each had numerous stories to tell about their time in the military and WWII. Some of their stories I didn't understand at the time and some were so scary I couldn't sleep on some nights after hearing them. Not only that, but all my friends had fathers who had fought in WWII in one capacity or another. My best friends father was exempt, I think, because of some health problem. The father of two of my friends was a B-17 pilot and rose to the rank of Colonel in the 8th Air Force. He was one of those who flew to the end of the war no matter how many missions that he had completed. I had friends whose fathers had been in the Navy, Army Air Corp, Marine Corps, and U.S. Army Infantry. I lived in the age of real heroes. Not athletic heroes, but warrior heroes. Patton, Nimitz, Eisenhower, Bradley, and MacArthur, to just name a few. I dreamed of someday being like them and being a hero myself. I must have had at least 500 of the little toy soldiers and tanks and artillery pieces. I played war constantly as a kid, plotting strategy and operations. I knew long before I knew a lot else that I was going to go into the military when I got out of school.
And from a very early age I heard the old adage, "There are no atheists in a foxhole." Well, I was never sure that was correct, but I would get to find out for myself 12 or so years later in S.E. Asia. I grew up in a household that consisted of my mother, grandmother (my mother's mother), my stepfather (who I thought was my real dad for many years), and my sister. We first lived on a 12 acre parcel that my grandfather gave my grandmother when they divorced. I was born in the old farmhouse on that property in December of 1942. My grandfather then sold the rest of his land and bought a farm in Kaufman, Texas, where he lived until he died in 1965 or so. My grandmother sold the last 12 acres to a real estate developer and bought two houses on a street just about a quarter mile from the old homestead. We were not a family of faith although my grandmother believed in God, but not necessarily did she believe in Christ. I don't think I can remember her ever going to church although I know she did when she was young. My stepfather grew up in a family that went to church and believed in God and Jesus Christ. However, he didn't often go to church when he was living with us.
However, they did make me and my sister go to Sunday School and sometimes church. Occasionally, my mother and stepfather would go, but it was a rare event. In this little Baptist Church, the children's Sunday School stressed memorizing the scriptures. I hated it...boy did I hate doing that. But, you had to do it or get ridiculed for not doing it. I remember at the age of 7 or 8 memorizing The Lord's Prayer and the 23 rd Psalm. And, of course we memorized some of the sayings of Jesus. A note is needed here: I hated going to Sunday School and Church in general. Just hated it. Didn't want to be there at all, especially on really pretty Sundays when I could down at the creek fishing or out in the fields hunting jack rabbits. I was not an inside person. I liked being outside and church was inside. Didn't like it ..... didn't want it.... thought for sure I didn't need it. Heck, no warrior needed the church....church was for weenies. And I certainly didn't see myself as one of those.
At some point, I found out my stepfather wasn't my real father and that started a rebellion on my part that eventually caused my stepfather to leave and get a divorce from my mother. I was eleven and I raised so much hell over their not telling me the truth, that there was no way they could have stayed together unless they got rid of me.....and I am sure they thought about that at some point. I got to a point where I actually hated my stepfather (and he was always good to me, I have to say that because it is true) and my mother. It eventually got to the point that I had to move out and move in with my grandmother. I still have a rage within me about the lies they told me as a kid. All their lies just encouraged me to lie as well. It was an unhappy ending to a family, and I think my sister still holds that against me. She was actually my half-sister, my mother's daughter but my stepfather was her father. I could never get anyone in my family to talk about my real father and his family. A lot more lies were told trying to keep me from finding out who he was.
My mother went through a series of boyfriends and finally married a man who was an alcoholic but quit drinking when he married my mother. At least, we all thought he did. I had moved back in with my mother at this point, but I was never really happy in that environment. I once again moved back in with my grandmother. I went to church for the last time when I was 11 years old, at least as a worshiper. I was in the Boy Scouts by this time and we were sponsored by the Methodist Church in our town and so there was always programs at the church I had to attend that had to do with Scouting. Scouting and baseball were my two escapes from my family realities. I eventually, with no help from my family, made Eagle Scout. I worked as a counselor at summer camp several times and made a trip to Philmont Scout Ranch, the highlight of my scouting years. There are two mottoes I still live by even today and they are scout mottoes: Be Prepared and Do a Good Turn Daily. I kind of take the "Be Prepared" one to the extreme even today because I have backups for everything. I almost two of everything just to make sure I have one that works.
Its just the way I'm wired.
When I graduated from high school, I immediately went down to the recruiting office in Dallas, Texas, and tried to join the Marines (that is a story in itself). They said I was too small and that I needed to grow some more before I could become a Marine. Talk about a put down.....I was down in the dumps for several days over that incident. Then I decided, what the hell, I'll just go join the U.S. Air Force. ( That is also another story). I finally was able to sign up and was told that I would leave for basic training in September. Well, that was okay with me because it gave me some time with my girlfriend and the whole summer to enjoy doing what I wanted. In September I left for basic training at Lackland AFB in San Antonio, Texas.
Now, we'll jump to two and a half years later in Laos. Faith is a funny thing. I never thought I had any. I was always suspicious of most folks and I never allowed anyone in real close to me and I certainly didn't trust any overly religious Christian. I trusted very few people outside my small circle of influence. I did trust the SF guys I worked with and my own PARU's. I never trusted Colonel Bradley, Tony Poe, or any of the CIA personnel. And.....I certainly never trusted in God....any god of any kind. By this time it had been almost ten years since I had been to church. I didn't believe that God existed and Jesus Christ was just another man who had some strange philosophy that I didn't like. Love your enemies.....right! Do unto others as you would have then do unto you....yeah, that works real well in this hell called Laos. But, at the time I had even forgotten those verses.
Then there was LS 224. I am not really sure that was the LS. It could have been 284. It's been a long time since then. We were called and told that we needed to go to this LS. I was to take seven PARU with me and we were to land and hold this particular LS until a SF Team arrived that was "running hot." "Running hot" meant that the team was in contact with enemy forces and making a run for it with the enemy in pursuit. I was told by Col. Bradley to carry extra grenades and ammo. I was told this might be an extremely dangerous operation. I would have four T-28's overhead for air assets. I met my team on the tarmac at Wattay and boarded two choppers and headed to the site. It was over an hour's flying time there. When we arrived it was pretty quiet on the ground. I assumed this LS was under Gen. Vang Pao's control. Bad assumption. While there were no enemy troops in the immediate area, it wasn't under the general's control. Akkrat was the indigenous team leader and he had a few guys I had not seem before. Akkrat told me he was training some new members of his unit and they needed some real experience in the field.
After landing we set up our radios and I notified Vientiane that we were on the ground. I then tried to contact the SF team to find out what their situation might be. After several tries I finally made radio contact and was told that they had been ambushed and had wounded with them. I gave them the map reference as to the location of the LS. They told me they were at least six hours from our location and would try to get there sooner if possible. Akkrat set up a defensive perimeter with his men on the upper side of the LS. You always assume that you have been spotted by someone friendly with the enemy if not by the enemy themselves. The helicopters had by that time headed back to Wattay to refuel. However two other choppers were on the way just in case we had to get out before the SF team made it to our location. If they were not needed by the time they reached us, they would land at an LS 30 minutes away at an LS controlled by Vang Pao's troops and refuel as they were carrying extra fuel with them. Everything was pretty quiet for the next four hours. We had good cover and a good defensive position. There was nothing to do but wait for the SF guys to arrive.
About 1600 hours (4PM) we hear intermittent gunfire below us. I got in contact with the SF radio operator, the one two in SF terms, and asked him their ETA. He said they could see the LS from their location and would be there in an hour. What he didn't say was that the PL also saw the LS. However, they did not know we were there. They assumed, as they often did, that the SF team was all that were going to have to overcome. It was apparent that the PL troops saw the LS as they were trying to flank the SF team. I happened to catch a glimpse of them and realized what they were up to. I radioed the SF team that they were being flanked to the north. The radio operator said that his 1-0 told him to tell us to deal with it best we could. That must be a standard SF saying. I heard it a lot when I was in Laos.
From previous experience I knew they would try to get above the LS so they could be firing down on the SF team as it came to the LS. I called Akkrat over and told him the situation. We needed to get higher up because my guess was they they would come to this very spot we were defending. We made a mad scramble up the mountain about 50 yards and repositioned ourselves for what might come our way. Boy, it would have been nice to have some claymore mines, but we didn't. It wasn't long until the PL troops showed up and did exactly what I had thought they would do. They moved to the position we had just left.
There were at least twenty of them. Akkrat gave the signal to use hand grenades. Everyone put two of them in front of their position. When they PL troops looked like they had settled in, we pulled the pins and tossed them down on the unsuspecting PL soldiers. Then hell broke lose. The grenades went off and immediately the remaining PL soldiers turned and opened fire on us. Tracers were flying around everywhere, but mostly over our heads. Some of the PL guys tried to climb up towards us, but one of Akkrat's men dispatched them with a burst of AK fire. I saw a grenade thrown our way but it landed way short of us and went off harmlessly. The rifle fire was so intense that leaves, limbs and grass fragments were flying around everywhere, not to mention the bullets. One of the PARU took a bullet to the head and died before he hit the ground. It was at this point that I can remember saying this: "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow, I will fear no evil." It had been ten years at least since I had heard or said those words. In the midst of all this mayhem, here I am spouting Bible verses and I don't even believe in God. It's a funny thing, but I remember this moment more than any other from my time in Laos. Here I was, a so-called atheist, saying Bible verses I learned in Sunday School. Bullets, grenades and I'm in a hell on earth and I am saying Bible verses. A few moments later the SF team made it to the LS and joined in the battle. I was able to crawl over to the radio and call the support aircraft and told them I needed them to drop their ordinance 200 yards east of the smoke. I pulled the pin on the smoke canister and threw it as far down the mountain as I could. A T-28 peeled in and dropped some 100lb bombs right where we needed them. Then I heard the helicopters to our west. Another T-28 made a pass and dropped his bombs. By this time the SF team had finished off the remaining PL troops immediately in front of front of us. I didn't see any others below. The choppers swooped in, we loaded the wounded and the dead, jumped in ourselves as the last T-28 made his pass over the enemies position. And then, we got the hell out of Dodge.
When we arrived at Long Trieng, the SF team had been pretty well shot up. Everyone on their team was wounded in some form or another. They had lost their 1-1 weapons specialist and three of their six indigenous S. Vietnamese SF team members. Our team had four wounded and one dead. One of the remarkable things about this incident was that I didn't get so much as piece of shell fragment off the ricochets as they hit the rocks and trees. Another funny thing about all of this is that it bothered me to talk about the Bible verses. It was like it made me less of a man because I was saying this stuff...you know what, I wasn't saying it, I was praying it. Did God save me that day? I don't really have an answer for that, but I can hope that he did. After I became a Christian, I told this story in front of church congregations and most believe that God preserved me just so I could tell this story.
Whatever the case may be, I am glad I was on that mountain that day. What I learned about myself has lasted a life time.
About 1600 hours (4PM) we hear intermittent gunfire below us. I got in contact with the SF radio operator, the one two in SF terms, and asked him their ETA. He said they could see the LS from their location and would be there in an hour. What he didn't say was that the PL also saw the LS. However, they did not know we were there. They assumed, as they often did, that the SF team was all that were going to have to overcome. It was apparent that the PL troops saw the LS as they were trying to flank the SF team. I happened to catch a glimpse of them and realized what they were up to. I radioed the SF team that they were being flanked to the north. The radio operator said that his 1-0 told him to tell us to deal with it best we could. That must be a standard SF saying. I heard it a lot when I was in Laos.
From previous experience I knew they would try to get above the LS so they could be firing down on the SF team as it came to the LS. I called Akkrat over and told him the situation. We needed to get higher up because my guess was they they would come to this very spot we were defending. We made a mad scramble up the mountain about 50 yards and repositioned ourselves for what might come our way. Boy, it would have been nice to have some claymore mines, but we didn't. It wasn't long until the PL troops showed up and did exactly what I had thought they would do. They moved to the position we had just left.
There were at least twenty of them. Akkrat gave the signal to use hand grenades. Everyone put two of them in front of their position. When they PL troops looked like they had settled in, we pulled the pins and tossed them down on the unsuspecting PL soldiers. Then hell broke lose. The grenades went off and immediately the remaining PL soldiers turned and opened fire on us. Tracers were flying around everywhere, but mostly over our heads. Some of the PL guys tried to climb up towards us, but one of Akkrat's men dispatched them with a burst of AK fire. I saw a grenade thrown our way but it landed way short of us and went off harmlessly. The rifle fire was so intense that leaves, limbs and grass fragments were flying around everywhere, not to mention the bullets. One of the PARU took a bullet to the head and died before he hit the ground. It was at this point that I can remember saying this: "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow, I will fear no evil." It had been ten years at least since I had heard or said those words. In the midst of all this mayhem, here I am spouting Bible verses and I don't even believe in God. It's a funny thing, but I remember this moment more than any other from my time in Laos. Here I was, a so-called atheist, saying Bible verses I learned in Sunday School. Bullets, grenades and I'm in a hell on earth and I am saying Bible verses. A few moments later the SF team made it to the LS and joined in the battle. I was able to crawl over to the radio and call the support aircraft and told them I needed them to drop their ordinance 200 yards east of the smoke. I pulled the pin on the smoke canister and threw it as far down the mountain as I could. A T-28 peeled in and dropped some 100lb bombs right where we needed them. Then I heard the helicopters to our west. Another T-28 made a pass and dropped his bombs. By this time the SF team had finished off the remaining PL troops immediately in front of front of us. I didn't see any others below. The choppers swooped in, we loaded the wounded and the dead, jumped in ourselves as the last T-28 made his pass over the enemies position. And then, we got the hell out of Dodge.
When we arrived at Long Trieng, the SF team had been pretty well shot up. Everyone on their team was wounded in some form or another. They had lost their 1-1 weapons specialist and three of their six indigenous S. Vietnamese SF team members. Our team had four wounded and one dead. One of the remarkable things about this incident was that I didn't get so much as piece of shell fragment off the ricochets as they hit the rocks and trees. Another funny thing about all of this is that it bothered me to talk about the Bible verses. It was like it made me less of a man because I was saying this stuff...you know what, I wasn't saying it, I was praying it. Did God save me that day? I don't really have an answer for that, but I can hope that he did. After I became a Christian, I told this story in front of church congregations and most believe that God preserved me just so I could tell this story.
Whatever the case may be, I am glad I was on that mountain that day. What I learned about myself has lasted a life time.
