Talk on Vietnam that will change your views on Vietnam; I have added "real heroes" to the story; please read.

5/5/18

Talk on Vietnam for Tom’s class…

First, I would like to thank Tom D. for inviting me and Miss N. for allowing me to speak to the class. I take it as an important responsibility, and I will do my best... 

War, as opposed to what is portrayed in the movies or TV, is not glorious, is not glamorous, it is not exciting.  Quite the contrary.  Good men die; families are left without their fathers; sons; uncles, brothers, cousins… you get the picture… War is a punishment for grave and continuous sin against God Almighty. 

I guess you can say we get what we deserve, as individuals and as a nation.

Having said that, it is important to point out that even in conflicts or wars, whether just or unjust, there are those who can be considered real heroes.  What comes to mind, are the selfless medics, corpsmen and clergy that brought aid and comfort to those on the battle field, helping to bind up physical, as well as spiritual wounds.  In doing so, many lost their very lives in fulfillment of their duties, above and beyond the call.  In fact, there were at least sixteen clergy, mostly Catholic priests, that were killed along with their charges, in many cases, as they were providing the Last Rites of the Church.  There names are also on the Wall in Washington, DC. 

And when it came to “my war,” Vietnam, I admit that I injected myself into it because I believed I had to do my part in preventing the Communists from taking over South Vietnam from the invading hordes from the North.  

Communism is a terrible ideology.  It betrays all the freedoms that you and I enjoy in our country; our fatherland. 

Could you imagine not being able to get to Mass; not being able to learn about our precious Catholic Faith; being told what to believe; not being able to travel where and when you wanted?

The South Vietnamese people wanted to enjoy their freedoms too, but sinister and evil forces wanted to enslave them; the state was to be their god.

I don’t know if you realize this, but many South Vietnamese people were Catholic – including the president of South Vietnam -- from the influence of the French occupation and missionaries that brought the Catholic Faith to that region of Indo-China and South East Asia.  

Today, after much reflection and study, many people in our country believe that the 58 thousand-plus-American lives, plus several thousand allied troops that were lost fighting that long, “unwinnable” war was a waste of blood, sweat, tears and treasure. 

I disagree…

(As an aside, some say that we were tricked into that war with phony evidence to goat us into sending the first troops way back in 1959, not long after the French forces were driven out in 1954.  The general-in-charge of the North Vietnamese forces, Gen. Giap, was the same general that fought the American and the South Vietnamese forces.)

In any event, the names of those fighting men: Marines, Army, Airman, Navy and Coast Guardsmen can be seen on the Wall in Washington, D.C.  

I have not visited the Wall in DC, but I did visit a moveable or mobile Wall many years ago in Concord, NH and, more recently, again in Winchendon, MA.  I tried to remember some of the names of my high school buddies and search for them on the Wall, but I couldn’t locate any of them; I am grateful for that, if you know what I mean. 

However, on that Wall, are the names of one hundred and eleven U.S. Air Force Security Policeman, my brothers-in-arms, all killed in action, also known as KIA.  There are also many missing in action, also known as MIA, and some say there were or still are prisoners of war, known as POWs.  You may have noticed on some flagpoles, especially at various post offices, the MIA/POW flag flying just below the American flag.  In my Jeep, I have a small MIA/POW poster, so I never forget… I remember them all in my prayers every day along with their families.

Can you imagine not knowing what happened to your loved one, or if your loved one is still alive?   How are they being treated?  Will you ever see them again?  

All the stories that I write, are dedicated to those one hundred and eleven Air Force Security Police, perimeter defenders, par excellence… may they rest in peace…

I will say this: when I first came home just before Christmas of 1968, (a nice Christmas present for my parents, friends and relatives, right?) I didn’t really want the general public to know that I was a Vietnam veteran.  I remember saying to my Dad not to mention that in casual conversation with anyone.

I feel very different now. 

As I go along, I’ll explain some of my duties, and note that my job was different from those very same Marines, Army, and Navy personnel.  It was not my job to go into the jungles and rice paddies to fight a sometimes-unseen enemy; no, my job was to defend the perimeter of the two air bases that I was assigned to from enemy attack and attempted penetration to destroy the aircraft and personnel on the base.

Keep in mind that the jet aircraft, mostly F-100s left over from the tail end of the Korean War, as well as F-4s, tormented the enemy forces that were attacking our troops out in the field, fighting for their lives in horrendous battles.    

The Viet Cong and North Vietnamese forces hated the fact that we had air superiority over any Russian Migs that engaged our well-trained pilots and wanted to knock out our ability to bomb and strafe them as well. 

I am not ashamed to tell you, however, that there were many nights on the perimeter that I was scared.  Very scared!  In some cases, not knowing for sure if I would see the sun rise on another day after a very long and tense night on the perimeter. 

I have relayed some of those fears in three books that I wrote – Tom has read two of the books; he can attest to some of my first-hand experiences of near life and death on the perimeter.

But I’m not here to tell “war stories,” no, I’ll let others do that, but I just wanted you all to see and hear someone that was in Vietnam; to see that the men that fought there are getting older, and, hopefully, wiser.

Here’s a fact you may not know: 97 percent of Vietnam Veterans were honorably discharged, and a survey taken some years back, indicated that most veterans of that war would do it over again if necessary.  Amazing!

Some of my Vietnam brothers have passed away from something that was called Agent Orange.  This chemical was used to defoliate the forest with the intention of uncovering the hiding places of the Viet Cong and North Vietnamese soldiers, so we were told.

The only time that I can say that I might – might – have been exposed to Agent Orange, was a time that we did a sweep, or as some might say, a search and destroy, through a defoliated patch of land near the huge American and allied base that was known by the name: Cam Ranh Bay (I was transferred to that base just about half-way through my one-year tour.  My initial assigned base went by the name of Tuy Hoa, named after the city a few miles from the base).  So far, I haven’t seen or felt any effects of that one-time sweep through that defoliated, burnt-out area.  I do know a former Marine that has shown some of the effects of that chemical, not only on himself, but also an ailment that seems to have been passed down to at least one of his male children.

Then, there was the weather… Have you ever heard of the Monsoons?   The Monsoons were torrential rains that were common to parts of Asia during certain times of the year.  They, along with cyclonic storms would roll in from the South China Sea, or sometimes would come in from the interior with massive bolts of lightning, silhouetting huge mountains.   Strong winds, heavy rain, and huge waves pounded the beach-side of the perimeter of the air base.  

In fact, I clearly remember being on post in an observation tower – we called them Oscar towers, the walls of which were filled with sand, creating a three-foot-thick barrier to help protect against enemy small arms and machine-gun fire.  Being on the beach-side, when one of those monster storms hit the coast and central highlands of Vietnam was quite an experience.  One of my worries, was that those big waves would simply wash the foundation of the tower out from under me, causing the tower to fall like a house of cards, and wash me and the tower out to sea, losing my life to an enemy provided by Mother Nature, not the Viet Cong guerillas.  

The only protection I had for myself was a “poncho”.  Sort of a floppy rain coat that did little to keep out the wind-driven rain hitting the tower as the sides of the tower were open – there were no windows.  So, I decided to use my poncho to cover my machine-gun and keep the rain and blowing sand out of the firing mechanism hoping that big gun would fire if needed and not jam.  There were times I was assigned to a machine-gun bunker at ground level; some of those bunkers were completely exposed to the elements; there was no place for cover; no place to hide, especially when things got a little dicey near the perimeter from enemy activity.  

As you can see, there were enemy soldiers to fight; chemicals to fight; insects to fight; snakes to fight; rats to fight (in some places, there were so many rats that we actually had a “rat patrol”, usually a supervisor and his aid patrolling around in a Jeep with a pump shotgun picking off some of the bigger critters); weather to fight, as well as loneliness to fight.

Some of my other duties included escorting the Vietnamese national workers back to their home city after they finished their work on base.  Usually, this occurred at night.  I was the machine-gunner in the Jeep; we could have easily been ambushed and picked-off, but fortunately, things were usually quiet.

BEFORE Tet, that is.  Tet was the Vietnamese New Year.  And if you have done any studying regarding the Tet Offensive, you know there were some tremendous battles that took place throughout the South.

Myself and some of my buddies would provide security for the convoy of supply trucks transporting goods from one base to another.  Again, easy pickings from the surrounding hills if “Charlie” decided to hit us… I didn’t mention this earlier, but “Charlie” was another name for the VC.

A little more about that demon loneliness… remember, there were no computers, no cell phones, no smart phones, no Skype, no internet, nothing.  There was however, something called the MARS station.  It was a small on-base radio station that was run by ham radio operators both in Vietnam and back in “the world.”  

By the way, we Vietnam vets referred to the U.S. as “the world.” 

It was difficult to get a time to try to “patch” a phone call over 12,000 miles away to family members.  So, I really didn’t try; I just wrote letters and waited for letters from home.   Sometimes, mail didn’t come for weeks on end; that hurt.

At this point, I would like to touch upon what I did as a Catholic while in Vietnam.

Believe it or not, I was a faithful Mass attendant and, in fact, helped, along with my friend from California, set up the altar for Mass for our Irish priest.  That same chapel was also used for the Protestant services as well as any Jewish services as there was only one building for all of us to use.

I think you might be interested in knowing that very same chapel was also used for a memorial service for the assassinated civil rights leader, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.; he was killed in April of 1968.  By the way, I turned 21 years old in July of 1968.  The average age of troops in Vietnam was 19!

When news of Dr. King’s death hit the base, there was quite a bit a tension among the black brothers, not only on the base, but also from those stationed at surrounding bases, outposts and firebases. 

I had asked my black brother if I could attend the service with him.  He was happy that I asked him and wanted me to come to pay homage to Dr. King.  When we entered the chapel, all heads turned around to see this “white man” come in; all those heads were of black brothers.  The only “white men” in the chapel were the priest, minister, rabbi, and me! 

I think that if I wasn’t with my friend, Tom, from Houston, Tx, I might have been “in a little bit of trouble”?  Maybe??

I thought highly of Dr. King, and, in fact, I did my high school term paper on Dr. King back in 1963; and that was before the assassination of President John Kennedy.

Sadly, just two months later, we got news that Robert Kennedy – Pres. Kennedy’s brother – was assassinated in a hotel after giving a campaign speech; if I remember correctly, he was running for the Democratic nomination for the upcoming presidential election… But there was no memorial service for him….

I want to get back a little bit to what I did being a Catholic… Remember I said that my friend and I helped the priest set up for Mass; we also served at Mass.  But there is something more that I wanted to mention… when in Vietnam, I stayed on the straight and narrow, in other words, I stayed a faithful Catholic.  I did not get drunk; use drugs or take part in activities that were surely displeasing to God.  Unfortunately, I saw many of my brothers, some of whom were married, disgrace themselves before God and men.

Some of the good things that I and some other brothers did on our time off, was to convoy to the surrounding towns to gather whatever building materials we could find to help build up the walls of the local orphanage.  Some of us also volunteered to provide nighttime security for the engineers drilling water wells out in the boondocks, many miles from the relative security of the base.

It was extremely important to be in a state of grace.  

Why?

Because I didn’t know if our base was going to be hit – that’s another term for being under attack – and if I was going to be KIA, I wanted to be ready to meet my Judge..

Ironically, it was the time after I came home that I started to lose my Faith.  I drank heavily; went night clubbing; I was big into drag racing, and most detrimental to my soul, I stopped going to Mass; I was lost.   Really lost…

Have you ever heard the term: but for the grace of God, go I.

I could have ended up a wasted human being; either dead or in jail, who knows??

Slowly, gradually, painfully, I came back.  I know for sure that there were folks praying for me… I fought it though, because I wanted to live my way, not the right way; not God’s way.

Just a few more things… when the day came to leave Vietnam, myself and about 150 brothers from all the services, were waiting at the Cam Ranh Bay air terminal.  And did we wait… about 12 hours later, the commercial airliner arrived.  

We boarded the jet; sat down in our seats; and again, we waited.  The plane taxied down the runway, but there was no shouting or clapping or yelling; there was dead silence.  It wasn’t until the captain made the announcement that we were out of range of surface to air missiles, did it get really loud in that plane…

The return flight to the states took about 14 hours.

I remember coming down the steps of the airliner; got down on my knees and kissed the ground: I was home – or nearly home.  One more flight to New Jersey would come the next day after I separated from the service at McCord AFB, Washington state.

The rest is history…

In conclusion, I would encourage you all to take your Faith seriously; never give an inch to the evil one.  If you do, it gets easier to commit those big, mortal sins over and over again...  Believe me I know.  But if you should happen to fall, always remember you can get back in the good graces that God provides to all those who knock and ask.

Use your free will to do good; observe the First great Commandment to love God, and the second great Commandment: love they neighbor as thyself for the love of God.  

If you faithfully observe these two Commandments, you will be on the straight and narrow road that leads to the finish line and claim the crown of eternal life (St. Paul).

Thank you.

E. DeLalla