When I had my first experience with death.
It was the death of two American soldiers,
Who two days earlier I may have met.
I saw their bodies on a chopper pad,
Atop a remote and unknown LZ.
Their bodies were wrapped in ponchos,
And their boots were all I could see.
They had been killed while on patrol,
Through a village with a typical name.
The village had no real significance.
To most they all looked the same.
Later that day I was assigned to the squad
That these two men had served so well.
It was somewhat my initiation I guess,
To this place referred to as Hell.
I'm sure I had been told the names
Of these men who had fought and died
But I've been unable to remember them
Regardless of how hard I've tried.
I hope and pray that someday
Their names will come back to me,
So that I can refer to them as who they are,
Instead of two KIA's atop a remote LZ.
Phil Thornton
1998
The story behind this poem:
This poem reflects my first day in the field. Two of us, both new in country,
were on an LZ waiting for a chopper to pick us up and take us to the unit
we'd been assigned to, which was already in the field. While we waited, we
were watching an air strike not far away. We weren't aware of the circumstances
surrounding the strike, but I can remember being impressed and glad that
the jets were on our side. Thoughts of the destruction of the village and
the pain and suffering of its inhabitants were of no concern to me. Shortly
after the strike had ended a chopper headed toward the LZ. We assumed this
would be the one we had been waiting for. When the chopper landed we weren't
prepared for what we saw. There were two American soldiers onboard who had
been killed two days earlier.
For the first time, I was witnessing the war up close and personal. It was
a sobering experience and I remember wondering if I might meet the same
fate.
When we reached our unit in the field we learned that these two men had been
killed after the platoon was led through the village by a Vietnamese woman.
The platoon was forced to pull back due to the heavy resistance they had
encountered and were unable to recover the bodies of these men for two days.
The chopper that had evacuated them was the one we'd seen on the LZ.
I'm sure while being told the circumstances surrounding the deaths of these
men, I was told their names and listened to stories and memories about the
good times shared with them by the friends they'd left behind. Sadly, over
the years, their names and the stories have faded from my mind. Although
I didn't know them personally, I will never forget them.
Update:
On the morning of January 20, 1969, the 1st platoon of Alpha Company, 4/21, 11th LIB, Americal Division was ordered on a combat assault and were put down near a village. Once they entered the village, the Platoon Leader, Lt. Edward Marrs ordered each squad to place security in every direction. SP4 Arthur (Artie) Watson and another member of the platoon headed out to set up security when a single shot was heard. Lt. Marrs yelled out both mens name. SP4 Watson didn't respond. When they crawled up to his position, he was already dead from a gunshot wound near the heart. In an attempt to recover Watson's body to take outside the village to be medivaced the platoon was ambushed at a cross trail. During this ambush Sgt. Robert Smith was shot several times in the chest area and within minutes he too was dead.
These two men are heros. Not only did they give their lives for their country but they gave their lives for their fellow comrades.
Although I didn't know these two brave men personally, we did cross paths one day. That's a day that is embedded in my mind forever. Someday we'll cross paths again and we won't be strangers.
Many thanks to Ned Marrs for putting some closure to an issue that's been nagging my conscience for thirty two years.
