Comrades in Arms

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Vietnam was called the land that God forgot. I sure saw the truth of that, serving as a combat medic in the late 1960s. My first nine months of duty were spent taking care of casualties choppered in to Landing Zone Sally, a base north of Hue. At 20 I'd seen more suffering and death than I'd ever imagined possible. A man's life had no meaning here. How could I still believe in a God who cared about us, a God who cared about me?

In October 1968, I was transferred from LZ Sally to the First Cavalry Division headquarters at An Khe in the central highlands. An Khe was a huge base camp with an airfield, post exchanges, a commissary and clubs for officers and enlisted men—a far cry from the Spartan existence at LZ Sally, where we'd lived in underground bunkers. The war was still everywhere around us.

But at An Khe I felt more like a human being again.

My company patrolled outside the base in the daytime, searching for mortar tubes, rounds and rockets. At night we pulled guard duty on the perimeter. There were machine guns on towers at different intervals, and sandbagged foxholes in between. We were reinforced with more troops and a Quad 50—four .50-caliber machine guns mounted on a flatbed truck. The crew fired rounds into the field to discourage ground assaults from the Vietcong. It seemed we were no closer to peace than the moment we'd arrived.

I spent my free time at the enlisted men's club on base. One night I walked in, and there was this all-American guy standing on a chair, lip-synching to a song on the jukebox about losing his girl. He was so into it I had to laugh. "That's Tom," one of the GIs clued me in.

Later a buddy introduced us, and Tom and I hit it off right from the start. He showed me a picture of his girl back home. "We're getting married," he said proudly. Then he grinned, pulling more pictures of pretty women from his wallet. "Now what'll I do with all these?" he asked. "Just a joke, kid," Tom said. "I finally found love, and it beats all."

Tom had a free spirit that seemed to rise above the grim reality around us. "When this is over, I want you to come meet my folks," he said once, throwing his arm around my shoulder like a brother. Tom made me feel good about life again. We hung out at the club, where Tom would lip-synch till the crowd went wild. "Go, Tom!" we'd yell. No matter what we'd been through out on the perimeter, Tom's antics never failed to cheer us up.

Tom was only two years older than me, already a seasoned grunt. He'd spent time in another line unit before coming to An Khe. One night I saw him in action. Our company was on the perimeter, and it was really bad. The Vietcong were out in force. Enemy tracers bounced off a bunker about 100 yards to our left. The Quad 50 was nowhere in sight. We returned fire. Tom manned an M-60 machine gun. I handled the M-79 grenade launcher.

Nothing seemed to stop the advance of the Vietcong. "We need air support!" Tom yelled. He was totally focused, rounds blazing from his M-60. The sight of him filled me with confidence. We were fighting for our lives, all of us together. I had to do what I could to help.

God, don't let me make a mistake.

I grabbed the radio. I shouted into the mouthpiece for air support. In minutes, there was a roaring

whoop-whoop-whoop

overhead, and two Cobra assault helicopters appeared. Machine gun and rocket fire streamed from the two choppers, strafing the enemy. Thunderous cheers erupted. The Cong were routed.

Seven months later the entire division was deployed to another tactical zone. Our rifle company was disbanded, and all grunts were reassigned to other units. I was going to finish my tour of duty with a medical company in Phuoc Vinh, north of Saigon. A gang of us got together at the club to say good-bye. Tom was his usual happy-go-lucky self, but he'd been assigned to the thick of combat. I told him I was worried. He brushed it aside. "This is the kid," he shouted to everyone, smiling in my direction, "and the kid is going home!"

Continued on page 2: Every day I worried about Tom. I dreaded zipping body bags... »