Khe Sanh Veterans Association Inc.

Red Clay
Newsletter of the Veterans who served at Khe Sanh Combat Base,
Hill 950, Hill 881, Hill 861, Hill 861-A, Hill 558
Lang-Vei and Surrounding Area

Issue 46   Spring Summer 2000

Reunion

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I'll Go Next Time   A Golf Reunion   Khe Sanh Brothers   Reunions

I'll go next time

By: Dan Beckham
6680 Groton Circle N. W.
Canton Ohio 44708-1015

You could have gone to that reunion but put it off. I've done the same thing, sat at home, and wondered what it was like. I knew there was probably a group of Vietnam veterans getting together for perhaps the last eight years. I had seen a couple of things here and there in the past years, but never went. I knew of a reunion in 1998, but didn't go. I made excuses up for myself on why I didn't need to go.

I joined the Marine Corps in July 1967 and by January 1968 I was in country. My time in 1/9 started at Camp Evans where I arrived about January 15, 1968. I spent the next week getting accustomed to the heat and the equipment and meeting all the guys in 81 mortars, my MOS. Everything was pretty quiet until about noon on January 21st, when the word went out to get ready to move out. We were headed to Khe Sanh.

The helicopters dropped 1/9 off on the runway and the next morning we marched out to the Rock Quarry. The next 2-1/2 months would be filled with work details, fortifying our position, watching the jets and artillery work, all the while constantly looking out for incoming. There were nights assigned to perimeter duty.

Around the middle of March, I volunteered to go with the 81 Forward Observer team that was with Alpha Company. I was introduced to the Sergeant and his radioman Charles Miller and we hit it off right from the start. I spent the next few weeks learning how to read a map and call in supporting fires from the 81 mortars. The team went out with Alpha Company a couple of times in March and each time ran into stiff resistance from entrenched NVA.

Operation Pegasus geared up in late March. 1/9 was assigned the job of taking hill 471 about two clicks south west of the quarry. By late in the afternoon Alpha Company had maneuvered to the base of the hill and was ready to attack up the slopes of the hill. Hill 471 had a main hill and an adjoining knoll with a saddle in between. On the top of this knoll were two large bomb craters. Almost all the forward observers and radiomen were in the left bomb crater (facing hill 471) knoll calling in supporting fires and firing our rifles at the NVA on the hill. As Alpha Company attacked, the NVA starting pouring on their own supporting fire. They blasted us with 122mm rockets and a mixture of 82mm and 60mm mortar fire. A radioman and myself had moved to the right crater leaving the rest of the group of 5-6 Marines in the left bomb crater. As the incoming landed, shrapnel flew everywhere. You could hear it hitting the dirt everywhere. Then one round hit really close. Although we were hit with hot pieces of metal, the radioman and I were unscathed I flew over the rim of the bomb crater to check on the other group. What I saw I still remember vividly today. There was a cloud of dust hanging in the bomb crater. Everyone was hit. I could see the Sergeant and everyone else and called out for the corpsman. I ran to Miller, the FO radioman, and grabbed him to check his wounds. He was still kneeling on both knees like I had left him a few minutes ago, but slightly bent oven The radio that he had fastened to his pack on his back was now gone. As I looked down it was apparent that the round had hit just behind him, the impact crater was visible on the ground. As I pulled him back, I yelled his named and realized he was dead. The shrapnel had cooked off the bandoleer of ammo he carried across his chest. I let him go and went to help the others. The Captain had a neck wound and everyone helped to cut off the flow of blood. The Sergeant just lay there moaning he was in a great deal of pain. His flak jacket was nowhere in sight and shrapnel had hit him quite severely all over his back. I tried to talk to him and comfort him, but he was in shock, and moaning. lt's a horrible feeling seeing your buddy's hurt'n real bad and you just can't do much about it. The corpsman eventually got an IV started and we got everyone on stretchers to carry them out. On the way out, the Sergeant's IV came out and I tried to reinsert it. I remember I thought I was hurting him because of all the moaning he was doing. Within minutes all of our fallen comrades were taken off the hill. The wounded were taken to Charlie Med at Khe Sanh. One rocket had wiped out almost the entire command group. The last I remember of that Sergeant was the sight of him being carried off to a waiting helicopter. I never saw him again. Of all the things I experienced in Vietnam, that day is probably the most intense in my memories.

I continued as the Forward Observer for Alpha through the rest of my tour. In February 1969, after 13 months in Vietnam, I rotated back to the world and was honorably discharged from the Marine Corps. I returned home, went to work, raised a family, and let the war fade into a memory. Over the years I kept in touch with a couple of guys from the FO team, but l always wondered about the Sergeant who was wounded on Hill 471. I thought of him often, wondering where he was, even what his name was, I had put everything so far back in my mind that I had forgotten even his name.

In the early Eighties I watched the television series "Vietnam, the 10,000 day War." The memories that I had buried for so long seemed to rise. I had a new urge to read all I could about the Vietnam War. By the late Eighties I was into reading every book on Vietnam I could get my hands on. All this time I continued to think of that Sergeant, if he had made it and if so where he was today.

By the mid-nineties I had a computer and earnestly tried to find guys from my unit, but to no avail. I searched lists and even e-mailed a few guys, but I couldn't find anyone I served with. I had over the years kept in touch with my assistant and radioman, but I was on a quest to find that Sergeant or his fate.

In late 1998, I heard about a 1/9 "Mini Reunion" in April 1999, at Parris Island. I wasn't really sure I wanted to go, never having been to one before. I didn't know what to expect and thought my wife (Susan) would be bored stiff.

On March 20th I called and made my reservations for the reunion and on April 15th, my wife and I left for Parris Island. I told her that if things didn't go well, we'd just leave and go onto our final destination Hilton Head Island our planned vacation site.

We arrived at PI about 5:30 p.m. and went to the Osprey Inn to check in. Well it wasn't three minutes before a couple of guys came back from a golf outing for 1/9. I asked where everyone was at and they told me the Frogmore Inn, so Susan and I proceeded to the Frogmore to see what was happening.

Arriving at the Frogmore the ice was broken very quickly when Roger Liggon grabbed and hugged both my wife, and myself. Right away we felt at home. In fact everyone there was welcoming us like we were lost relatives or something. The night went very quickly and we met everybody at the Frogmore and had a few beers. We got back to the Osprey and crashed onto our beds. Things seemed to going pretty good and Susan said that all the ladies were real nice. She had made more friends than I had. I thought to myself, well it's ok, but I didn't really see anyone I had served with. I still had reservations about staying for two more days.

Friday April 16th there was a full schedule of events starting with breakfast, morning colors, a graduation, a tour of Parris Island, and finally a dinner.

Friday morning reveille was at 5:00 a.m., with breakfast scheduled for 6:30 a.m. at the Weapons Battalion Mess Hall. A bus arrived to pick us up and off we went to eat breakfast. I thought I was at a Perkins or Bob Evans, the food was that good. As we left to get back on the bus, my wife started to talk with Charles Evans (Doc) and his wife Sue. Well, in about a minute my wife is calling me over and saying, "You won't believe this, this is Bill Pearson's sister." You see I had worked with Sue's brother Bill in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania about 20 years ago. A small world, indeed. I couldn't believe we had met Bill's sister, here of all places. We continued to talk as we boarded the bus to morning colors ceremony.

Morning colors was really a show. The Marine Corps Band played and Mike the mascot was in his finest dress blues. The colors were raised and then there was an introduction and short story of both the Montfort Point Marines and First Battalion Ninth Marines and then we all had our pictures taken together. Then it was off to Peatross Parade deck, "The Grinder," to see 2nd Battalion F Company and 4th Battalion P Company (WM) graduate. The graduation was impressive, with the playing of the band, the entrance of over 400 new Marines, and the ceremony itself.

After the graduation it was off for a little sight seeing around the base. Sights included Elliott's Beach, the Rifle Range, and a movie and tour of The Crucible complex. The Crucible is a 54-hour training mission the recruits go on during the 11th week. After this grueling test of endurance and problem solving the recruits receive the globe and anchor. They are pinned with the globe and anchor at the Iwo Jima memorial at Peat Ross parade deck. Well after another tremendous lunch it was off for more sights and then a couple of hours at the Museum or shopping.

Friday night the entire group mustered at the Officer's Club for dinner. Naturally everyone bellied up to the bar and got to talking over old times. Col. Radcliffe gave the invocation and opening speech and then everyone feasted. After dinner it was more old stories and even some news movies about Delta from May of 1967. It was a grand night and slowly the old soldiers drifted off by ones and twos to rest up for the next day's maneuvers.

Before dinner my wife and I chatted off and on with different guys that happened along, but nary a soul I had known in the Vietnam. We had sat there maybe 20 minutes when this guy comes down the bar looking for a spot to sit. My wife tells him to take the chair next to mine. Naturally I introduce my wife and myself and start to ask questions on when and where he was in Vietnam. In reply to asking him when he was in Vietnam, he said, "1968" and I said, me too." I said I was with 81's, and he said same here. I said I was the FO for Alpha Company and be responded that he was also. At that point l just looked at him, and said, "It's me Carl, Dan." I told him the story of Hill 471 and what happened after the incoming. I could not believe it. Standing before me was the man who I'd been wondering about for 31 years, Carl Oksney. We hugged each other and began to reminisce; it had been a long time. We sat there and talked for the next four hours.

Saturday morning was a free day until the barbecue at 2 o'clock. Some of us decided to attend the Crucible graduation at 7:30 am, so it was up early again and off to Peatross parade deck. At about 7:30, 400 or so tired recruits marched onto the parade deck, dropped their gear and formed up around the Iwo Jima memorial. After morning colors and a stirring speech, these recruits were pinned with the Globe and Anchor and were Marines. It was a really stirring ceremony to say the least. The rest of the morning was spent just hanging out, or shopping at the PX for those essential Marine Corps souvenirs.

The barbecue was great, there was plenty to eat and drink, and everyone took a turn at burning a couple of dogs and burgers. Carl and I got together again and tried to reminisce, but it was hard. We had only been together for about one month before he got hit, and after 31 years memories fade away. Later a fellow named Larry Kumm came up to me and said I was his FO for 81 mortars. I was in amazement, I just found Carl, and now another Marine is standing in front of me saying he served with me. Well needless to say, I took him over to Carl and all three of us talked for a few hours. At the end of the barbecue I said my good-byes to Carl and we promised each other that it wouldn't be 31 years before we talked again. We had a lot of ground to cover, to get to know each other again. Sadly, we remembered very little of our experience together except for that fateful day in April on Hill 471. It was sad to see this reunion come to a close, as it had been a wonderful three days. But alas it was the end of the barbecue and the start of the final party at the Donnelly's.

Col. Donnelly and his wife Cathy had invited everyone over to their house for shrimp and a little beer. They were excellent hosts. They had two huge boats of shrimp set up on a table and more food. Everyone gathered in the back yard for more story telling and a final wind down to the festivities. There was even an impromptu dance by all the wives present. No telling how many dollars were thrown their way, but if they had kept dancing, people would have been looking for the ATM machines.

Well all things, must come to an end. Groups gathered for those final photos and those final good-byes, and slowly we all went our separate ways. We had come literally by car, plane and train, enjoyed great camaraderie, shared some old stories, cried on each other's shoulders and now it was time to part. I hope it's not a long time before I can see my friends again. Some old, some new. All great. This had been my first reunion and it really renewed me and gave me strength to face the future. It also gave me resolve to try and find more of our old friends. If you read this and haven't been to a reunion or rally, go, it is a good time, believe me...31 years is a long time not to see your friends.

That reunion was in April 1999, since then Carl and l met again at the Khe Sanh Veterans Reunion in July 1999. We are still trying to piece things together and remember what time has made us forget. Our time together was short, about three weeks and it's hard to remember the short period we shared so many years ago. Now we have made a pact to correspond and help one another to heal those wounds of so long ago.

Welcome Home Brother!
Till next time old friends
Lurch
FO-1 Alpha Company
Jan 68- Feb 69

Top Side

A Golf Reunion

Joseph Olszewski
Third Platoon Commander, Golf 2/26, '67/'68
Alamo, California

During the past thirty-one years, all I remembered about Golf, 2nd Battalion 26th Marine Regiment was in the form of names, pictures and dates. For more than three decades, copies of the names of the KIAs resided in one of those plastic picture cubes, that I have always kept on my desk at work. It's real easy to find amongst the desk-top clutter, as it's covered with those "Buddy Poppies" handicapped veterans sell on the streets of San Francisco on Veterans' Day. The pictures have always been either in my head or the few that I took with my cheap instamatic are in binders and fading by the year. The dates are repeated every Sunday at Mass when the prayers for the dead are offered.

For thirty-one years, military magazines and telephone books were my required reading. There was The Retired Officers Association Magazine, the Semper Fi newsletter for retired Marines, and throughout the 70's and 80's, the active duty magazines, that I routinely "borrowed" from California PX barber shops, always looking for articles or references to Khe Sanh or Marines who I once knew. I even studied the San Francisco Marines Memorial Club Membership lists for any Veterans names that I could recognize.

Whenever I traveled across the country to some awful locations and spent countless nights in dull motels, and even in 1989 when my son, Chris, started visiting colleges, I would open the local phone books and look for names. All of these paper patrols netted the same results: Nothing learned, nobody found.

Then in November 1998 I read a short article that appeared in The Retired Officers Association magazine about a new web site called The Virtual Wall. I was new to the Internet and this site absolutely riveted my attention. Once I learned my way around it, I discovered that, just as you can leave physical "remembrances" at The Wall in D.C., you could leave written or pictorial "remembrances" for any of the more than 58,000 names listed in http://www.TheVirtualWall.org web site. I immediately opened the files on The Virtual Wall of all the KIAs that I knew. In my plastic picture cube, I have the seven names of Golf Marines from my platoon who were KIA on April 6 and 7, 1968; as well as, the names of many Marines and Navy personnel I knew either from my training days at OCS/Basic School at Quantico, Virginia in 1967 or from my short 'Nam tour.

One by one, I opened each of their files on The Virtual Wall and found that there was not a single remembrance for any of these heroes. So I began loading anything I could remember from the pictures I have in my mind about each of them. One was Father Robert Brett, who was the 2/26 Battalion Chaplain, who was KIA on February 22, 1968. Father Brett tried to arrange a wedding in Hawaii for one of my Marines who left his girl friend with a "bun in the oven" before he left for 'Nam. I left that story.

After leaving all these remembrances, I began reading the "guest book" for any names or events I could recall. Again, I found nothing. Then on March 8, 1999, 1 received an email message from Mike Worth, former Echo, 2/26 Khe Sanh Veteran, and he had read my remembrance for Father Brett. Mike knew Father Brett at Khe Sanh and his brother, Father Frank Brett, was one of Mike's high school teachers. Mike subsequently informed his friend Lucille Biscaglio, that he found another 2/26 KSV, and she called me to make a "recruiting" call for the KSV organization and at the same time told me about the KSV web site. I began checking KSV Guestbook, as well, and found Ed Rouse (Father Brett's nephew), Eric Smith (G 2/26 & 81s) and James Everley's (G, 2/26) message center comments. One by one, I started contacting them. Through them I learned phone numbers or addresses for Pete Post, Golf's Executive Officer at Khe Sanh, Lee Overstreet, Golf's Company Commander, and Reverend Ray Stubbe. I've since had phone conversations or exchanged letters with all of them. Then, I began receiving e-mails from Marines or relatives of Marines that I knew or didn't know -- such as, "Doc' Dan Manley, Ed Malta, Bill Wentworth and Abe Moore -- all Golf, 2/26 veterans. I even received an e-mail from Jules Boroff, who is the daughter of Jim Alexander, WIA on April 6, 1968 while attached to Golf, 2/26. Julie's on a mission to find the corpsman who saved her father's life.

One day, on one of those never-ending streams of e-mail jokes, I noticed that James Everley's distribution list had a name of "Jacob Krygoski." I knew that I had a Marine name Krygoski in my Platoon, but I never knew his first name. I sent him an e-mail on May 9, 1999 asking if he was in the Third Platoon, Golf, 2/26. He replied: "I can't remember what I was doing yesterday let alone who my Platoon Leader was 30 Years ago. I'm not even sure which Platoon I was in." I replied, "I thought you were in my platoon, in the third squad and your Squad Leader was Rick Lammers.' Instantly, there was an avalanche of names we each knew and two e-mails later we had figured out we knew each other for six months between Phu Bai and Khe Sanh. After that, we started exchanging the entire inventory of 'Nam pictures we both had. I mailed him mine and he scanned all of his and sent them to me. Once he received mine, he scanned all of those and sent them to all the other Marines that he knew. At one point about a year ago, I typed all the letters I had written to my fiancée during my tour in my WORD processor. If you print it on a laser printer, it totals sixty-six pages! I sent Jacob aka "Ski" the entire file. Between our pictures and my letters, it was like being stranded on an island for thirty-one years and suddenly finding a five-gallon bottle floating in the surf with an encyclopedia about 'Nam inside.

"Ski" lives in Palmdale, California, and one day he asked if I ever traveled to Southern California. I replied that I passed through on my way to Phoenix, Arizona to visit with my mother and my dreaded In-laws. He asked if I could stop by on my next trip for a quick visit. Since my wife would be away on a business trip in October, I was planning an Arizona visit and asked "Ski" if that would be a good time. Again, an instant avalanche of information, ideas and common knowledge flooded the e-mail circuits. "Ski" said that Richard Ross, who was Golf's Company radioman at Khe Sanh and who lives in Venice Beach, California, had visited him once, and would try to contact him to see if he was interested in joining us. I mentioned that James Everley, radioman for the Golf's First Platoon, was interested in traveling from Wichita, Kansas to Lake Tahoe for a gambling vacation and he and I had discussed meeting in San Francisco.

Before long it was arranged it had taken Thirty-One Years -- that on October 9th and 10th of 1999, four members of Golf, 2/26 Marines would meet for a minireunion in Palmdale, California.

James, Richard and I all arrived at "Ski's" home in Palmdale at different times on Saturday. I arrived first at around 10:00 AM. I guess, being a former officer, I had to set the example. I had a little trouble finding the right street, but once I turned the comer there was no doubt in my mind which house belonged to Jacob Krygoski and his wife, Leslie. You see it's more than just their home, but it is also the best Marine Corps museum you ever set eyes on.

"Ski" had decorated his home for our reunion. On the outside he had huge USMC and POW flags. On the lawn he had a big white sign on a stake which read "Golf Co. CP.' And, are you ready for this? He even had a minefield outlined in the front lawn with little signs on stakes, which read "mines." This latter home improvement warrants further explanation. On February 24, 1968, I stepped on a mine on Hill 558 while checking a map of the field that l had previously submitted to the Battalion CP. Between the time the minefield was established and when I checked it, several barbed wire fences were installed around it. Once I entered the minefield on that eventful day, I had gotten confused about the location of the mines in relation to the fences. To make a long story short, one of the fences obscured where the minefield began and instead of walking toward a safe position within the field, I actually headed for the first cluster of mines and I hit the first one in the pattern. This event had been the previous subject of many humorous e-mails and phone conversations between me and my new KSV core group, who have labeled me "directionally challenged." I've never been bitter about my left foot amputation and, to be honest, it probably saved my life or my sanity as Golf Company suffered heavy casualties in a bunker ambush on April 6th and 7th of 1968.

By the time I rang the doorbell, I was bent over from laughing about the mines in the front lawn. "Ski" answered the door and it became immediately apparent the neither of us recognized each other.

By noon James and Richard had arrived. Richard remembers both my name and my face, but I only have a vague recollection of him. Richard and James knew each other well as at one time both of them were in the first platoon and they even had pictures of the two of them together in '68. "Ski" and Richard knew each other at Khe Sanh and they both "rotated" home around the same day in late March 1968. We shared stories about Phu Bai and Khe Sanh that only the storyteller could remember. We looked at pictures "Ski" had scanned on his PC and couldn't believe how young we looked way back then.

Richard, James and I were amazed at the computer room that "Ski" had built. It was full of USMC memorabilia. He had large caliber ammo, a full-scale picture of him crossing a bridge at Phu Bai in his 782 gear, all his battle ribbons enclosed in a glass case, every book and magazine on Khe Sanh and, you'll love this, when he "boots up" his PC it plays the Marines Hymn.

On Sunday, the four of us met for breakfast at an International House of Pancakes in Palmdale. It was crowded and we sat in a tight booth. James and Richard were interested in exactly how I screwed up in that minefield. Therefore, being the resourceful Marines we were trained to be, we used what was available. Using salt & peppershakers, forks, spoons, knives and a few napkins, I outlined how the minefield looked and how I misread it. Between setting all this up and the crowdedness of the IHOP, patrons near us were curious and were watching me with great interest. I'm certain some of them overheard my description, as they watched with mouths and ears agape. It was my finest hour.

James had to leave after breakfast, but Richard and I returned with "Ski" to his home where had several conversations about KSV and our combat experiences. We ate steaks that Leslie BBQ'd for us, drank beer and finished the day watching the great Marine recruiting film "DI" that. Jack Webb starred in during the mid-fifties. By five PM our mini-reunion was over and we vowed to meet again in San Diego in September for the KSV Reunion (James has attended past reunions, but "Ski", Richard and I will be reunion rookies in September).

As l began to drive off, "Ski" stopped me as he had a gift for me. Since I was in my car and it was wrapped, I didn't want to open it in front of him. When I stopped that night at a motel on my way to Arizona, I opened it. It was a heavy cardboard box, which read:

Once again, I was doubled over with laughter. Here's a quiet Marine we called "Ski" in '68 who could complement a reunion thirty-one years later for three of his combat brothers with flags, signs, a minefield and gifts of Crations!

What did we learn from our Reunion? We learned that we all had a tremendous strength of loyalty that DIs worked so hard to instill in us, even though we never appreciated or knew it. We learned that we over-identify with our past adventurous youth. We learned that movies produced in the 50's and early 60's had a great deal to do with our combat performance and our identity as Marines in the late 60's. We learned that we all carry names, pictures and dates in our minds. Most importantly, we learned that we are all hungry as Hell for any piece of information or common Vietnam experience that we cannot wait to share with each other.

I suppose these learning points are common in some form or manner amongst all Vietnam veterans. But, somehow they seem even more important to those of us who lived in the Red Clay. See you in San Diego -- trust me -but if we meet don't call me "Ski." That name is reserved for a special KSV who created new pictures and dates for my mind to remember.

Top Side

"I now know why men who have been to war yearn to reunite. Not to tell stories or look at old pictures. Not to laugh or weep. Comrades gather because they long to be with the men who once acted their best, men who suffered and sacrificed, who were stripped raw, right down to their humanity. I did not pick these men. They were delivered by fate and the U.S. Marine Corps. But l know them in a way I know no other men. I have never given anyone such trust. They were willing to guard something more precious than my life. They would have carried my reputation, the memory of me. It was part of the bargain we all made, the reason we were so willing to die for one another.

"I cannot say where we are headed. Ours are not perfect friendships; those are the province of legend and myth. A few of my comrades drift far from me now, sending back only occasional word. I know that one-day even these could fall to silence. Some of the men will stay close, a couple, perhaps, always at hand.

"As long as I have memory, I will think of them all, every day. I am sure that when I leave this world, my last thought will be of my family and my comrades...such good men."

Semper Fi
Jim Wodecki

Top Side

Reunions

By Tom Ford
72 N. Jefferson Ave.
Lindenburst, NY 11757

My name is Tom Ford and I was a member of Foxtrot 2/26 Hill 558.

In 1985 I came across an announcement for a veteran's parade that was to be held in New York City. It was a Welcome Home parade for Viet Nam Veterans sponsored by the City of New York and the Honorable Mayor Edward I Koch. For quite some time I lived with the inner turmoil of should I or shouldn't I go? This went on for sometime, until a local social event brought me into contact with a lifelong friend, Dan Gardner. Dan served with the Dusters in Viet Nam and had been attached to the Marines somewhere up around Cua Viet, after Khe Sanh. It was Dan who turned the tide within me, by agreeing to go with me to the parade.

We took a train from our hometown, Lindenhurst, Long Island, and after an hour ride we were in the Big Apple, Penn Station, New York. It had been a quiet ride in, with only some casual conversation, about Viet Nam, being in the service. What the heck was this parade going to be like? Will we be the only one's dressed like this (camo/green utilities)? Could we ever find anyone from our old units? From Penn Station we hopped a subway for a quick ride downtown. It was then that we realized that we weren't alone. As we looked around the subway car, and later the subway stops, there were more and more people in and around us who were wearing some sort of unofficial uniform to show that they were Viet Nam Veterans. It was the first time since coming home, 2/69 that I ever recalled feeling so proud. The further the subway went the more Vets got on. Eventually everywhere you looked on the train there were Veterans. They were all greeting each other as if they had known each other for a lifetime. What a great feeling, beginning a day that would have a resounding effect on the rest of my life.

This subway ride to the staging area was 20 minutes. We had a choice of stops to get off because the staging area was so large. Not knowing exactly where to go we randomly selected a stop and got off. I still can't believe what happened. As we came up out of the subway we crossed the street, which by now was nothing short of a sea of green utilities from all branches of the service, and we continued on for about a half a block when I spotted a large mass of people who were assembled inside a city park with a very large banner flying overhead and I couldn't believe my eyes. It was a white banner with green lettering and it read "KHE SANH VETERANS." I remember approaching cautiously and I walked around the whole perimeter of these guys with Dan studying them and trying to figure this out. I eventually went inside the park and wound up talking to some of them, but unfortunately I don't recall who, and after a few conversations I remember the Hueys flying overhead. The parade was starting and I asked Dan if it was ok to march with this group. He said "sure." This was the beginning of my first reunion.

The parade kicked off and we all marched as a group. I will always remember the feelings of closeness and togetherness that I felt that day as we marched down the "Canyon of Heroes" as it is referred to in New York. Just think, famous movie stars, baseball players, astronauts, presidents and now me, with the Khe Sanh Vets. It was an awesome parade from start to finish. The spectators were lined up along the whole route and they were stacked from the curb straight on back to the buildings and they were screaming "Welcome Home" all the way. We marched past bands too that were all playing military songs and there was also a reviewing stand with a lot of dignitaries, including General William Westmorland, who I believe was the guest of honor or Marshall. Dan loved it too. The emotions were flowing.

Along with the parade there was a party on the deck of the Intrepid, which I was told was a WW ll aircraft carrier docked on the West Side. Dan and I discussed this and I decided to stay in the city while he departed for a prior family commitment back home. After he left I just milled around at the end of the parade route just savoring the good feelings that had come over my entire body. It was awesome, green utilities, jungle hats, combat boots, full dress uniforms, flags, music, staging. Parade. My parade. I am Home!

Being a loyal Marine, I went from bar to bar, which were all overflowing with Vets. In hope of finding someone I knew from Khe Sanh I had to consume an untold quantity of Lager. Wherever I went someone was handing me a beer. After realizing what a short day it would be if I continued with this search method, I walked around outside just taking in all the people. Then I saw a guy with a sign that read 2/26.I met none other than Ed Diaz, in the middle of millions of people. While we hadn't known each other in Viet Nam, we had a good conversation, which lasted sometime. I remember how great it was that I had met someone. Poor Dan.

Ed and I parted company and I proceeded to the Intrepid, which was another great time. They had several bands playing all the tunes that were popular back in the sixties. It brought back a lot of memories, and tears. At one point I found myself just standing at a solitary location on the flight deck, facing South, just listening to the music and crying my eyes out. It just happened. But, it ended, as did the party and I happily walked around New York for awhile just taking in the whole day and trying to decide if I should extend my stay. I learned that there was a "gathering" going on at the Penta Hotel for Khe Sanh Vets.

Inside the Penta Hotel I immediately found what would later become known to me as the hospitality/PX room. It was an awesome display of memorabilia. I scouted the perimeter just taking it all in and trying to figure it out. After purchasing a few items I then noticed a message board, which had a message inviting all to a slide show of Khe Sanh that was being held in a suite that belonged to one of the Khe Sanh Vets. I overcame my reluctance, mustered up all my courage and went up to this room full of strangers. I met Ray Stubbe and a former Marine Ernie Husted who was putting on a slide show of all the photos he took while at Khe Sanh Combat Base. I will never forget it. I was welcomed like a long lost relative, invited to drink as much as I wanted. I sat down in awe of these guys and what they were doing, watched a great slide show and found myself listening and laughing, all the while fighting back long lost emotions. The slide show was great. I finally witnessed the magnitude of what had been going on back at the combat base during the siege. The hospitality and slide presentation was great. Perhaps too great. To this day I have always wondered if I had overstayed my welcome because I found myself getting onto a train back to Long Island at 03:10hrs. It had been a long day, and night...my first reunion.

I apparently put my name down on a roster while I was in the Penta Hotel, the following February I received an envelope in the mail with a return address that read The Khe Sanh Vet Newsletter. It was, I believe, to be the First Issue of the magazine that we now read today. It was five pages, printed on both sides with the first two dedicated to articles and the last three a listing of all the Khe Sanh Vets that had been located, 350. That's a lot of people, l thought, and I read my own name on that list. What a proud feeling. The phrase "WELCOME HOME" took on a new meaning.

The publications continued and the Chicago parade was promoted, scheduled for 1986.I was unable to attend, but sent in a donation to KSV just to keep the newsletters coming and eventually I started reading about the reunions that were taking place in California, Florida, Tennessee. Great articles about all the guys getting together. I really wanted to go to one, but I was unable to work it in at the time, or was afraid. I don't know.

All that changed in 1996. The reunion was scheduled for Philly and all my internal excuses of "too far away, I live on Long Island, NY" were not holding up. They fell apart the day I got a telephone call, about one week prior to the reunion, from Ed (Zimmo) Zimmerman (Fox 2/26) who was a guy I served with at Khe Sanh. The last time I saw him was on the evening of April 7, 1968, when he put me on the last medivac chopper off of "hill 700." He was calling from his home in Pa. Also on the line was Ed Sanchez (Fox 2/26) a guy I bunked with on hill 558 who was visiting Zimmo for a camping vacation prior to attending the reunion. I don't have to tell you what a great phone call it was. I put plans in motion immediately to go to Philly and in a matter of two hours I was a go.

I drove down to Philly and had no trouble finding the hotel, all the USMC flags flying from the balcony railings. I remember going in and registering too. It was a very strange feeling not knowing anyone at the time. I kept walking around from room to room, hospitality to the PX to the bar to the pool back to my room (bunker), all the while fighting the urge to flee. Get the hell out of here I thought. Glad I didn't cause then it happened...Sanchez, Soto, Zimmerman, Collins, McCrossen, Diaz, and Brohy. "Fox Company present Sir!" I'm home.

Twenty-eight years after the fact I fund myself in the company of those that I had served with in Viet Nam, at Khe Sanh. What a comfortable feeling. We had a great time together and I also met a lot of other wonderful caring people; odd description of former Marines who still had a place in their heart for each other. Looking back, these reunions can be somewhat of a scary ordeal the first time around. But, it doesn't take long before you settle in and start to feel comfortable and have a good time until it's time to go home. Then you can't wait for the next one.

The '97 reunion at St Louis, which was too far too soon. I didn't make it. Then it was Washington in '98 and although I could only go for the first three days it was a very touching reunion what with "The Wall" being right down the block. Then there was St Louis last year, gave it a lot of thought and then just picked up and went, even though I didn't know anyone else who was attending. Here we go again, I thought. Boy was I surprised. I met a whole bunch of new people from other aspects, areas, functions and branches of the service. There was the guy from Golf Co who was on the other side of the hill on 4-7-68 when we got into the shit, a C-130 pilot, SOG guy, Air Force FAC, Marines who were there before Khe Sanh became famous (pre-siege) and a Seabee. Talk about seeing the war from a different perspective, it was there, and I hope to always be there.

SEE YOU IN SAN DIEGO IN 2000.

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