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 52     Spring 2002

A Sprinkling Of Your Poetry

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In This Issue
Notes From The Editor and Board   Incoming   
Short Rounds  Memoirs   In Memoriam   A Special Feature     

Some complained of climbing mountains, they're commonly seen in this land.
Where the life or death of a comrade Is the fate often held in his hands.

But fate is not always there with them, this corpsman, his future denied.
Over a wounded Marine he was treating, on the soil of Vietnam he died.

Yes, he came to our place today, Tonight he's crossing the foam.
Beyond the call, he gave his all, Our corpsman is going home.

DOC G 2002

*****

Closure

Dale E. Crick
Killed in Action
February 11,1969

Saw your name on TV awhile ago
what a surprise don't you know.

You were young and so was I
the night you fell with a sigh.

Twenty-eight years of nightly dreams
and silent screams.

Now your name on TV
has helped to end my insanity.

One less nightly dream
One less silent scream.

Just peace in mind and soul
that can come from closure
to a tragedy that happened so very long ago.

Jack Neeley

*****

                The people enter the walkway
It doesn't seem like much at the beginning
Small panels, a few names.

They continue to walk past even larger
Panels more names, then past the "V'
More names, too many names...

Some stop to make a rubbing of a Father
a Husband, a Son, a Brother, a Sister,
a friend, or a comrade,
all who made the Ultimate Sacrifice.

Then they move on up the hill
and out the other side.

Some stop, they cry, they wonder why
then they too move on up the hill
and out the other side.

Some stop, touch a name,
feel the cold Granite;
then they too move on up the hill
and out the other side.

As they reach the top of the hill they turn
and gaze back at the "Wall"
they are amazed at the courage of,
and the ultimate sacrifice made by so many "Heroes."

As they turn and move out the other side
they are saddened because they know
these brave souls will never move on up the hill
and out the other side.

Jack Neeley

*****

Day is done,
Gone the sun,
From the lakes,
From the hills,
From the sky,
All is well,
Safely rest,
God is nigh.

Fading light,
Dims the sight,
And a star gems the shy,
From afar,
Drawing near,
Falls the night.

Thanks and praise,
For our days,
'Neath the sun,
'Neath the stars,
'Neath the sky,
As we go,
This we know,
God is nigh

Jim Fowler

*****

Rest in Peace 21 January, 1968

HM3 Malcolm Mole

PVT Paul Bellamy

PFC Ted Brown

PFC Mike Cruitt

L/CPL Clifton Jones

L/CPL Dave Rozelle

GY/SGT Melvin Rimel

PFC Theodore "Teddy" Brown Kilo 3/26

PFC Paul Melvin Jr. B/3rdRecon

Pvt. John Jenaro Contreras, H&S/3/26

PFC Reece A. Critchfield, Jr., 1/3/26

L/CPL Steven Louis Hellwig, H&S/1/26

SGT Billy David Hill, 282nd AHC/MACV 19

 PFC Terry Melvin Johnson, 1/3/26

L/CPL Thomas Lloyd Kingston, 1/3/26

WO Gerald L McKinsey, Jr., 282AHC/MACV19

Lt.COL Joseph P. Seymoe, MACV Det 19

SGT Terrence Glenn Smith, HQ26 MAR

L/CPL Larry Fredrick White~ H&S/3/26

MAY YOU REST IN

PERFECT PEACE AND HONOR

*****

BRO'S

Names appear out of the past,
For hours my heart beats fast.
First comes the joy I've found,
someone who was once lost!
Then memories flood my mind
again I see the flash and feel the blast.

Depression and pain I feel,
an emptiness in my chest.
What happened to the rest?
Where is Frenchy, Coffey, Crow, and Cann?
Marines from Recon and 1/26 
move through my mind, double time.

Rockets, mortars, artillery blast,
sand bags seep red, blood mixed with red clay.
Holes in the runway, must replace sections ripped to shreds.
I'm caught in the past,
nowhere to run, can't hide.
See the flash?
Feel the blast?

Who's in that bag, zipped foot to head? 
Is it me, or one of my Bro?

My dream is over, my eyes were never shut.
It's over, It's done,
I'm home at last!

Lewis "Sam" Messer
CMBU-301 DET-B

******

Slowly the fog creeps in, at first it was hard to see. 
The drizzle hid the fog so well it was hard to my eyes to see the sly fog sneaking in.

As I slowly came to realize the loges presence, 
I suddenly found myself on an airstrip covered with fog.

The airstrip was empty, no planes, choppers, no one in sight. 
It was so peaceful and quiet no sounds of engines, no outgoing or incoming. 
No voices to ruin the quiet.

Peace, the peace of the dead. 
That fog hid the base from preying eyes of the enemy.

As I stood there I prayed for the fog to both stay and leave. 
As long as it stayed, we were safe from incomlng fire. 
But I prayed for the sun to burn the fog away so those dead, 
dying, and wounded could be flown to safety.

The fog is both friend and foe. 
It means both death and life. 
I feel selfish not wanting it to leave. 
I want to live, so I am "lost." 
I can't have it both ways. 
Sunshine for food and and ammo; 
fog, so Charlie doesn't see and can't shoot at me!

Fog, you remind me of Red Clay -
a plateau of death and pain!

Lewis "Sam" Messer
CMBU-301 DET-B

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