"Here's a random personal item question for the vets in here. My dad mentioned when he was in vietnam a lot of the chopper pilots and other cool guys had Seiko watches back then. Did any of you have one or see one while there? Bonus if you have pics. He was in 3/9 Marines"

Here you go
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It was 50 years ago when I arrived in RVN in October of 1971, and I was blessed to be able to leave in November of 1972. I took the watch off when I got home and kept it ever since.  I recently wore it a couple of days to see if it still worked (self winding watch) and it still does.  It reminds me of a time I wore a young mans clothes, and thought I was bullet proof and invincible.

I did a lot of watch trading while I was in Vietnam. I was paid $830 per month of which I sent home $800 to the wife and child. While I was walking around with the Infantry guys If you shot someone and were able to search the body, you got their watch and money. I collected 17 or 18 of those plastic military watches the NVA wore and would trade them for things.

After I was assigned to an Artillery battery I traded them for things like sodas (I don't drink beer) and snacks. Sold some, people will pay a surprising amount for a cheap watch  that has a story.

If those tanks were from 1st Tank BN, my dad might've been one of the tankers in that area. He drove gun tanks and then an M67 "Zippo" in 1967-68 around Da Nang, Con Thien and on the Cambodian border.

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Legit my mom.  She actually found these pics for sale several years ago after I first posted them, and was kinda pissed.  It took me a while for me to remind her that she should be pretty fuckin chuffed that folks are buying a pic of any nurse from the VN war, because, in her experience, and mine, and many others, "women didn't serve in Vietnam."

I see the bottom pic pop up once in awhile on the net or YT vids. Every time I think, "that's an Arfcommers Mom." But couldn't remember whose.

She's famous.

She’s an awesome woman who married an E6 commo goon shortly after her tour, and then shat our me many years later.  I hope the tradition of service ends with me, given the current state of the mil.

My mom gave up her nursing career as soon as she could, post-Vietnam, and it took me joining in 04 to get her to open up at all.

I have first hand knowledge of VN nurses who will die alcoholics.

ETA is that a diaper pin holding a watch to her blouse?

Probably out of a Cravat/Bandage, possibly off of an ammunition bandoleer.

Thank you to all of you that served in Vietnam.  I'm having a drink with all of you tonight.

I have been watching youtube videos about Kham Duc. I was not there till 5 months after the battle but there were still some of the guys in my company that had been there. They told stories of shooting NVA inside Chinooks that had run in while they were trying to take off. My wife's cousin was the FO for Delta company 1/46 Infantry. Things got so bad for them that he called in artillery and airstrikes on his own position. When he got out he had a machine gun bullet in his right leg, one through his right lung and they shot off his right trigger finger.

Pretty hairy.

My brother sent me a seiko watch. Its auto wind but doesn't work anymore. I retired it a long time ago and its a sentimental item for me so I'm hesistant to have it fixed.  

Not much of a gun oficianado so maybe a stupid question. Is that 2 magazines taped together?

Bravo, Sir!

My wife and I went to get her military ID renewed.
Went through the hoops, get to a  20 something PFC, finished and got the ID.
She asked where I served (I’m 70) told her nam. Then she asked if I had a good time there!
Told her to stay away from agent orange. I doubt she knew what that was.

A lot of those back in the day werent made in Japan but counterfeits made in Thailand.

My Dad.

Interesting, is it easy to tell a counterfeit?

It looks like it. Not uncommon

The Vietnamese are very clever. One of the guys in my artillery battery bought a beautiful Rolex at a very good price. After 4 days it quit running. He took the back off it and all the parts inside were made from steel Budwiser cans.

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from Jack:

There are machine guns, and then there are the huge Browning M2, .50 caliber, and the Russian 12.7mm.

My first fireteam leader in Vietnam, was Cassius 'Mongoose' Mizner. He immediately assigned me as his radioman, carrying the old WWII era PRC 6 field radio. My job, in addition to being a rifleman, in a three-man fireteam, one short of TO, was to move to Mongoose, whenever he needed to use my radio in the bush. Otherwise, he taught me how to use appropriate radio procedures. Those procedures included memorizing our assigned frequencies, and Shackle Codes, used to transmit map coordinates. Never SHOUT while trying to transmit, no matter how serious, or dire, a situation may be! Shouted messages are next to impossible to understand, by those on the receiving end, thus slowing down needed support. I can't tell you how many times, I've been monitoring frequencies of ongoing battles, and heard someone trying to calm a person under fire, enough to understand their message.


Mongoose also taught me to identify, the sound various caliber rounds make as they crack, breaking the sound barrier, over our heads. Recognizing those rounds, taught me what, and how many, various combatants we may be facing. Taken under fire by .30 caliber carbine rounds, versus .30 caliber SKS rounds, is very informative. Whenever close enough to hear the weapon being fired, was equally important. The most common rifle used by main line NVA troops were the AK-47 type. It had a very distinctive report as opposed to our M-14, or M-16 rifles.


There is one round cracking overhead, that brings a whole other level of anguish to grunts. That is the sound of a 12.7mm projectile passing overhead! The Russian made 12.7mm machine gun was primarily used as the NVA's anti-aircraft weapon. It was usually, mounted on a tripod, making it more easily swung, following fast moving aircraft. The weapon could also be leveled against ground forces. Whenever we encountered these weapons, we knew we were facing a battalion or regimental size element. Many of us had witnessed what our comparable M2 'Ma Deuce' .50 caliber bullet did to a body. Unlike a rifle bullet, the Ma Deuce impact caused the body to just explode, into smaller pieces!


We had encountered, and captured, many enemy wheeled heavy machine guns, during my tour in Vietnam. Those heavy machine guns, just like our M-60 machine guns, were the main source of firepower, for both sides. It was therefore, critical that we destroy those weapons, as quickly as possible! Likewise, the enemy targeted our machine gun positions. The machine guns fired a tracer round, every fifth round, thus allowing the gunner to keep his rounds on target. Our tracer rounds were red versus the green tracers used by communist forces.


Our Getlin's Corner battle on Hill 70, found us with just one M-60 machine gun. Throughout the battle, the team manned by Tom Butt, Sam Phillips, Joe Lempa, and Billy Hill, were forced to continually, reposition their gun. Still, both Tom and Sam, were each seriously wounded. We were able to knock out their three heavy machine guns facing my squad, using our LAAWs, which were intended to be anti-tank weapons. Unfortunately for us, the enemy were able to quickly replace destroyed machine guns, with new guns and crews. We again took those out using our M-79 anti-personnel grenade launcher. The gun we could not kill, since we had no more rockets, or M-79 grenades, was their 12.7mm anti-aircraft gun. That gun was still firing hours later when we at last, received fire support from VMO-2 gunships. Lynn Williamson, the rockets squad leader from the first platoon, moving towards our position, finally, took out their big gun using a LAAW. The NVA fired numerous RPGs, rocket propelled grenades, into our positions seeking to knock out our M-60. This was their version of our LAAW, and is still in use today, by communist countries around the world.


Their 12.7mm machine gun provided quite a phycological, as well as tactical advantage for the NVA. There is nothing quite like the sound of that huge bullet, speeding past your head! That comparable size gun, to our .50 caliber, M2 Browning, is so heavy, no Marine Corps rifle company travels with one. We only used those in built-up defensive positions. The NVA were always very innovative in their transporting, heavy weapons to the South. We were indeed fortunate that none of our Marines were hit by their 12.7mm machine gun during that battle.


It always amazed me how Marines at base camps like Camp Carroll, Cam Lo, Rockpile, Con Thien, and Gio Linh, could be awakened from a deep sleep, by the sound of incoming artillery, or rockets, before they ever hit. Men were loudly yelling "INCOMING," while running to the nearest trench or bunker. Many a shin were destroyed when Marines tried to run over GP tent steel stakes! If we were at a firebase, and my squad were assigned a perimeter security sector, I liked positioning myself atop one of the bunkers. I could see and hear better from that position. It did pose a hazard while trying to quickly, move to the adjoining trench. My approach was more akin to a swan dive, from the three-meter board! Speed was always of the essence, when avoiding huge chunks, of artillery shrapnel!


I have been searching, quite some time, for a good photo of the Russian 12.7mm machine gun. Below is one captured from an NVA cache, close to Con Thien, which is also close to Getlin's Corner. You can tell from the photo of the two Marines carrying the weapon, how heavy it is. Add to that, the just as heavy tripod, and even heavier still ammo, you can understand how difficult it is to maneuver, unless there is a large force. Their attack at Getlin's Corner, was a case where they were certainly expecting to encounter our air support, during the battle. I'm certain they were just as surprised as we, when said air support, never arrived for many hours.


Semper Fidelis,
Jack Riley

A true story

as told to me by my brother in law.

1972 Long An Vietnam

My BIL and some of his buddies drove the 40 kilometers from their base to see his friend in Long An. They drank all night until there was no more  food. The Vietnamese will drink as long as there is food but will not just drink without food. So at 2:00am, out of food my BIL said let's go to sleep party over. But his friend said I will go get more food so out he went. 20 minutes later he came back with 2 kilos of beef which they fried with onions, ate and continued  drinking until daybreak.

At dawn they all went out to get coffee and sober up. While walking down the street they saw a crowd standing by the side of the road. Then they saw a dead VC laying on the sidewalk.

BIL's friend told him the turn him over.
When he did he saw one of the VC's ass cheeks had been cut off.

Yep

That is a true story.

My dad talked about being in Pleiku...

That's got "LET'S FUCK SOME FUCKERS UP" written all over it...

My dear old dad did some of that...

EtA: Thanks for doing what you bad motherfuckers did!!!

So......... They onion fried a VC's butt cheek for a drinking breakfast?

I think my dad and your dad was in the same areas then.  My dad was Jan 67 to Sept 67 with Marines I 3/9

Still soldiering on. This one was in the spring of 2016.

Genuinely frightening guns to have shot at you.
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We used to run into .51 cal's. (12.7mm) a lot.  After the '72 NVA Offensive got going, they were the small caliber stuff shooting at us.

The NVA would often set the guns up it pits like these:

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The guns would eat your lunch if you weren't careful.  We liked to use nails (flechettes) to silence the big guns.  They can't shoot if the operator has a bunch of pinholes through him.

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Memorial Day, 2021. Remembering my friend, Lt. John Paul Bobo, killed in action March 30, 1967 and posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor.

Lt. Bobo and I served together from July 1966, until he was killed at Getlin's Corner, on March 30, 1967. He had served as my India Company, 3rd Battalion, 9th Marine Regiment, 3rd Marine Division, 2nd Platoon Leader until January on Okinawa, where he was then assigned as our company's Weapons Platoon Leader. I got to know John, on a more personal level, while he was trying to convince me to participate in the Marine Corps' then 'Enlisted to Commissioning' program. Earlier in our tours, John wanted to know why I joined the Marine Corps? I told him about being married less than a year, working full time, yet taking a full course load, nights in college, when I received my greetings letter from Uncle Sam. I knew I would be going to Vietnam, and figured the Marine Corps would provide the best training available, so I joined the Marines ahead of my draft date. My dad had been a master sergeant in the Army's Rainbow Division, and my brothers had served in the Air Force, one during the Korean War. John was surprised I had not chosen to follow them, since my family had no one ever serving in the Corps. My younger sister had married a Marine while I was in Vietnam.


The Marine Corps had a rule that ranks did not fraternize with lower ranks. This was observed most often in garrison CONUS camps, but in Vietnam, that was never the case! Most officers however, did wait for noncoms to approach them. Lt. John Bobo was always approachable, but he was a shy man at first. I remember watching John as our Korean War veteran experienced platoon sergeant addressed our platoon. A boot lieutenant having a seasoned platoon sergeant is both a blessing, and a challenge. I could appreciate his observing, very closely, our platoon sergeant's skill in preparation, and execution of daily operations. It was only two months later that our platoon sergeant was killed along with four of our Marines. Our Platoon Sergeant was awarded the Navy Cross, second only to the Medal of Honor. It was obvious that his, and our four Marines' death affected John greatly. Why wouldn't it? It also affected every member of our platoon. We all took their deaths very personal at that time. Two days later, when we had trapped the VC R-20 battalion along the Thu Bon River, we took our revenge! John led our platoon in an assault against the VC fortified positions. It was there, within thirty yards of their positions, that airstrikes came in with strafing and bombs. John and I were each wounded the first times in that battle. Witnessing John's tenacity, and demeanor throughout that battle exemplified to me, his renewed confidence.


The 9th Marine Regiment were finally going to be reintegrating with our parent 3rd Marine Division, after being OPCON to the 5th Marines for many months. That was in November 1966, when we left An Hoa, and our platoon took up the position at Hill 358 along Highway 1, at Hai Van Pass, North of Da Nang. The monsoon season was in full force, with days and nights of constant rain. Downtime between patrols and ambushes became a good time to talk to John. We sat in what had previously been an Army Mess structure. Since we rarely received hot chow, the building went mostly unused. It did provide good observation and was mostly dry, unless the winds blew in from the South. This was also next to John's bunker, and close enough to hear any radio traffic.  


John wanted to know more about my family, any brothers or sisters? I explained about having five older brothers, as well as one older, and one younger sister. All were married except one brother. I asked about his family, and he told me about his three younger brothers, and one ten years old sister. I asked about his background and education? He explained how he had to work hard, having been a naturally scrawny kid! That was hard to believe, because John was a muscular man in terrific physical shape. He told me he was a history major, and in the ROTC program at Niagara University. I could tell he loved that university just by the way he lit up by mentioning it. John wanted to know my major, which at the time, I had not fully decided, other than it being one of the sciences. It turned out to be geology. It was during this time that one of my men received a dreaded "Dear John" letter from his wife. I advised John about the situation and my concerns. He immediately made arrangements for the Marine to be taken to the MARS station, where he was able to make a telephone over short wave call to his wife. My Marine returned with what had been a misunderstanding, corrected. Peace in the family again! This action assured the Marine's attention would stay fixed on the next mission.  


Our battalion next went afloat to Camp Hansen on Okinawa, where we received much needed new men for our company. We surveyed our battle worn M-14 rifles for newly reconditioned rifles. We also were provided with new utility uniforms since wearing jungle utilities, or jungle boots, were not allowed on the Rock. We had an ongoing PT regimen, as well as classroom time with squad leaders teaching Vietnam specific lesson plans. We also had to pass the Marine Corps' semi-annual Physical Readiness Test, to include, push-ups, pull-ups, sit-ups, rope climb, and a 3-mile run. We were in combat shape, so no one failed the tests.  John met with Paul Arcand, Dayton Rocap, and myself to announce he was moving to the weapons platoon, and as company XO. He announced we would have a new in-country platoon leader and platoon sergeant. I, for one, was not a happy camper! John was proven and our platoon loved him! Change is inevitable so we accept the change. Shortly thereafter, John introduced us to our new platoon leadership; Lt. Dan Pultz and Staff Sergeant Frances Muldowney who was fresh from a two years stint at Parris Island, as a senior drill instructor. Dan and Gunny Muldowney each became fantastic decorated leaders in their own right!


We moved up to the Northern Training Area, where we put into practice, all of the immediate action drills previously reviewed/taught. The new men had much to learn, about jungle warfare, not taught during their previous stateside training. Fitting in new men to my squad, without the stress of combat, was most beneficial. This gave the fireteam leaders an opportunity to correct what could be fatal mistakes. We also spent a day allowing everyone to acquire their battle sights for the new M-14s. John was able to see each of his weapons platoon crew served weapons teams display their expertise and skill. That night it rained, and most everyone stayed huddled around a huge bonfire. I learned that a wet sleeping bag, will dry from body heat! So, I spent a warm comfy night, and woke up dry including, my boots!


We returned to Camp Hansen, where we had the opportunity in battalion formation, to officially recognize the losses our battalion had suffered up to that time. M-14 rifles with bayonets stuck into the ground, and helmets atop each buttstock, designated each of our brothers lost in battle. Seeing all those rifles, knowing they would be multiplied many times over, still to this day, affects me. That rifle stuck into the ground, is very significant to all men who experienced war. Later that afternoon, our battalion H&S Company cooks, who rarely were given the opportunity to cook in Vietnam, cooked for the entire battalion, all the steaks one could eat. There were Jeep trailers loaded down with iced beer, for all to enjoy. And some enjoyed it to the extreme!


I was next informed by Dan and John that I, along with Roger Turnquist, would be accompanying John as the Advanced Party, flying back to Dong Ha, Vietnam ahead of the battalion, who would be returning later by ship. We would be attached TAD to Foxtrot Company, Second Battalion, Third Marine Regiment. We joined Foxtrot at their patrol base, located along the Cam Lo River, where the Khe Gio Bridge crosses the river along Highway 9. We spent many days accompanying Foxtrot squads on their many patrols, learning their TAOR. One of those patrols found my group with a situation they were unprepared to appropriately handle. We observed an NVA spotter on a rocky position overlooking The Rockpile. The patrol leader was not going to use shackle codes to request a fire mission. Calling the coordinates in the clear, would be heard by the NVA, who in turn, would quickly alert their spotter to move. I asked if he would allow me to call my officer, i.e., Lt. John Bobo? He agreed! I called John with the information and fire mission in code. John told me to wait one. He returned with a "fire mission denied!" I knew he was pissed because he knew I wouldn't be calling if I didn't deem it mission appropriate. We waited a little while and I repeated my request to John. Again, wait one. John was making his case to the 3rd Marines command. Again, "fire mission denied!" John was now really pissed! The first time I had ever heard him with that tone of voice! Turns out the parent organization, knowing they were about to go afloat, did not want to get into a mess! I asked their patrol leader what he was going to do? He said his orders were to go to the next check point. I responded that to do so, would place his squad in view of the NVA spotter. He asked what I would do? I told him I was returning to the PPB, since their command would not support him. He agreed with me, and we traversed back to Khe Gio Bridge. We arrived and I met with John, who was with their company CO. John was still pissed, as was their CO. Seems it was battalion's call to nix the fire mission. Sadly, this same company, after we took over their TAOR, was sent in as the Sparrow Hawk, to an ongoing battle outside of Con Thien, where they sustained many casualties, before finally going afloat to Oki.


My daily contact with John, ended later in March, when 2nd Platoon took over The Rock Pile, and then Khe Gio. The entire company later regrouped at Camp Carroll, where we went out on Operation Prairie Two, after Carroll had been hit with many incoming rockets, wounding India Marines from 1st platoon. I was able to speak briefly with John, as he visited each platoon's crew served weapon positions. Then, next on Operation Prairie Three, we were in proximity for those three days, before finally being together on Hill 70, March 30th.


The Getlin's Corner battle had been underway for some time, and I had already lost two men. My squad had collectively killed enough enemy to fill a dry rice pattie, to our North. I was next ordered to bring my squad up the hill from the northernmost forward position, to the CP. The Skipper there ordered me to take my squad, and counter-attack toward the last known location of Lt. Bobo, who had his leg blown off from a mortar blast. Doc Braun was to treat, then bring John back to the CP, while my squad continued our assault, and looked for our wounded. We quickly attacked toward John's last known location, finally arriving there, and I see John's severed leg with just a sinew of attached skin. Doc Ken Braun tightened a web belt on John's thigh, so tight it was drawn down to the size of my wrist, yet still bleeding! John was ordering us to leave him there, where he had already killed several NVA with his shotgun, and Doc quickly told him he wasn't being left there! My orders from the Skipper, were to attack and also retrieve our wounded. Doc was to pull John about fifteen meters over the crest of the hill, while my squad laid down suppressive fire. Doc made it about 10 meters where they each had to fire into attacking NVA on their left flank. It was at this time I heard an NVA soldier, with his AK47, standing behind me, firing on full automatic. That NVA was quickly killed! I could not see Doc, nor John, because of the elephant grass from our base of fire position. We were having to contend, with an NVA machine gun, when John Loweranitis, charged right into the position where he was immediately killed. We continued over the hill firing our weapons, throwing grenades, and looking for our men. Dead NVA soldiers were covering the hill! I lost three more men in the assault, Al Anter, Frankie Thomas, and Wallace Williams! We still could not locate Pasqualle Gigliotti and I feared the worse! We finally make it back to the CP, carrying our men, where Top Rogers informs me the Skipper, Captain Mike Getlin, has been killed. Mike Getlin was the bravest Marine I ever witnessed in battle. He too should have received the Medal of Honor. At this point, I did not know what had happened to John and Doc. Doc finally crawled up in front of me, much later with half his back gaping open. He told me John was dead! Doc was shot three times, and John was killed by that lone NVA soldier, who had earlier stood up behind me. Our situation is now very dire, but like everyone in battle, we could not let emotion control us. We stored that away for another time! I had now lost six men with my squad that night, plus all of our officers were now dead. There were now fifteen of our brothers killed.


Later that night, I was pulled off the hill along with all the walking wounded. I saw some of their lifeless bodies being carried into the position where Lt. Butch Neal had established his now recently arrived first platoon. It just seemed surreal! Only hours earlier, our spirits were lifted when we finally found that much needed water source. Then, there were smiles on everyone's face! And now, our friends lie motionless, while others are struggling with pain from terrible wounds, not knowing if some will survive. Lt. Dan Pultz finally goes on the hill, and locates Gigliotti where I told him he should be. Dan returns to the perimeter, with Gig over his shoulder! Gig had terrible wounds to his leg, and the pain caused him to become unconscious. We finally hear the familiar sound of a medevac chopper inbound. We are prepared if the NVA attempt to shoot it down, since we continue to receive H&I mortar fire from them. Raymond Lloyd takes a flashlight into the LZ to help guide in the chopper. We all thought Raymond would, in all probability, be shot! He wasn't! After the most critically wounded were medevac'd out, we prepared for what may be another assault on our position. It never materialized as the NVA were retreating back to North Vietnam. Their losses had to be in the hundreds, as future patrols would confirm. They left 69 dead just on the hill, where they were unable to drag their dead away for quick burials. The rice pattie to our north, had been covered with the bodies, of NVA dead soldiers.


John Bobo was not just my platoon leader, he was my friend. He was someone I knew had my, as well as every other Marine in our platoon's, best interest at heart. I appreciated the confidence he placed in me with my promotions and leadership roles. We enjoyed just shooting the bull with each other. John enjoyed having fun with the troops at mail call, particularly, if their letters smelled like a perfume factory, or covered with lipstick! He enjoyed sharing good news, and funny stories from his family mail. One of my favorite photos, I ever made of John, is him sharing a funny letter from home, taken as we were leaving An Hoa. It was also at An Hoa where it was obvious how much John enjoyed interacting with the many kids, outside of the camp. Those kids always brought a big smile to his face.


John, being awarded the Medal of Honor, was no surprise to those of us who knew him in battle. The award probably did surprise those back home, or those with whom he had attended TBS at Quantico. The man who all knew as a soft spoken and kind hearted man, was also what we call a Marine's Marine! He willingly, sacrificed himself for us, the Marines who would have perished were it not for John holding his position. It may have been fifty-four years ago, but not a day goes by that I don't thank God Almighty for having known, and served with my friend, Lt. John Paul Bobo.


Semper Fidelis,
Jack Riley

R.I.P. for the many

So the flechettes were effective?

Thank God such men lived.

Absolutely, we carried flechettes with us in our outer pods every time we went out.  They were great for soft targets, but not armored or reinforced structures.   Troops in the open, behind a gun or hiding in light overhead cover would be destroyed by our flechettes.  Each 2.75" rocket had 2,200 of the little steel spikes in them.  They fired in pairs, so that's 4,400 with every press of the button and we always double-tapped.  We had an AK-47 on our club's wall, that was given to us by some sneaky-petes who went in to do a BDA on one of our NVA targets after we had thoroughly nailed the place, that had nail holes all the way through it, including much of the metal parts, from our flechette strikes.  We liked "nails" a lot!

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Gotcha beat Snake _ Driver , one of our m551 canister rounds had almost 10,000 flechette's each  , and they made very nice neat little holes , or were very nasty if you were up close ...

Yep, when we went out hunting at sunrise we knew what type of night the artillery guys had at their bases when we could see their guns were all the cranked all the way down and there was shredded meat hanging in the wire.  The beehive rounds were very effective.

Mine's on the right Saigon 1970.

Thank you for sharing that and a well written tribute. John invested his time well.

My thoughts are directed at nobody in particular, more just a rambling post. I know of @Snake_driver and his posts (I look up to men like this) and many countless others on Arfcom. As a guy born in '83 I was way late to the party but something about the stories of Vietnam have always hit me deep.

@MadMardigan - Your friend Lt. John Paul Bobo would have been lost in the wind without you sharing his memory. Your story about the warriors the U.S. can produce even when they do not know it, is amazing.

You guys will never know how much someone like me in nowhere Ohio appreciates sharing your stories. I am also sad to say that this thread has been going since 2012 and I just now stumbled upon it this evening.

I raise a glass to you guys and all the fallen you have thankfully shared to me this eveing!  

Stories I post are mainly from Jack, who served with my dad.  My dad was there, and doesn't openly talk about what happened.

From Jack:

Starting in the early 1980s, I began trying to locate Marines whom I had served with in Vietnam over a decade earlier. The only available resource I had were my memory of hometowns and the Yellow Pages. Unfortunately, too many had not returned to their hometowns after exiting the Corps. I was able to locate a few with similar last names that happened to be brothers or cousins and they put me in touch with some of my men.

I bought my first desktop computer in 1985. My old Fortran and Cobalt college classes didn't help much with everything written in DOS, so I had to bone up just to be able to do anything. My computer had a CD drive and I acquired a series of disc that included the telephone books of every town in the USA. I thought surely this would help me find more of my men. The disc were not searchable but again I found a few more. It was always the men who never returned to their hometown of record that were the challenge. Such was the case of one of my Corpsman, Doc Ken Braun.


Doc had moved from his home state of Minnesota to Missoula, Montana. He had a friend from his VFW Post who was attending his 1/9 reunion in Philadelphia, PA and happened to meet some 3/9 Marines and overheard them talking about not being able to find one of their Corpsman, who was Doc Braun. The 1/9 Marine then said, "he is one of my best friends in Missoula!" Those Marines called Doc and gave him my number. He called me that night and I answered, he said, "Riley, this is Doc!"


I replied, "I had lots of Docs, Doc who?"


"Doc Braun!"


I spent the next few hours talking with what had been many years prior an 18, then 19-year-old Navy Corpsman responsible for treating most of the wounded during our battle at Getlin's Corner. Fifteen were killed that night and more would have bled out were it not for Doc Braun's bravery. He was like the Energizer Bunny up and running to the next of over 40 Marines wounded. He was shot three times, once across the shoulder exposing his upper back and spine, then two more through and through his upper chest. He crawled in front of me later in the battle and I did not see how he could still be alive given the severity of his wounds. He was just too tough to die!


We reminisced for hours as I brought him up to date on our friends who survived the war as well as some who did not. I finally asked him what decoration he received for that night? He said, "another Purple Heart just like you!" What Doc did not know was I had recommended him for the Medal of Honor. I did not tell him but I knew we had to make that right. Two years later, and yes it does indeed take a long time to get these things accomplished, Doc was awarded the Navy Cross in front of the Iwo Jima monument in Arlington, VA. That turned out to be 38 years after our battle.


Doc rarely missed a reunion after that and we continued many hours talking on the phone. I knew Doc's health was failing but he was so dadburn stubborn he would not go to see a doctor. He would be the first to chastise me if he deemed, I wasn't doing something medically appropriate! But the old adage, "Doc heal thyself," didn't apply to this tough old Squid!


I just felt a message would arrive soon from Kim, Doc's daughter, about his deteriorating condition. She told us he was being moved from ICU to a Hospice room. The doctors had him sedated with morphine to control his pain. Kim then notified us that Doc had peacefully passed at 1730 yesterday.


Many of you may have seen the movie about Desmond Doss, the Army medic, who was awarded the Medal of Honor for lowering so many wounded at Normandy. I couldn't help but think of Doc Braun while watching that movie. No, he did not lower anyone to the shore. But what he did do was run exposed through unwavering enemy machine-guns, rockets, mortars, and grenades, time and time again! I tried to get him to stay down but each time he heard another yell "Corpsman Up," he was off to the next wounded Marine.


Doc and I shared a bond that can only happen in battle. A bond few can fully understand. So, for me and all the Marines Doc saved in Vietnam, we also lost a piece of ourselves yesterday at 1730 hours.





Bravo Zulu Doc!


Fair winds and following seas.


Semper Fidelis,


Jack Riley

The watch looks like a seventeen dollar knock off counterfeit made in Bangkok that was typical of that day with many GIs. No shame in that game though. Most were and still are today very solid time pieces and that is for sure.

I received two Purple Hearts while in Vietnam.  The second one was from shrapnel in my hand and I still have the scar but it wasn't bad enough to be sent home.  Not really that big of a deal.

My first Purple Heart was for pneumonia.   No shit.

I was the Army Security Agency and assigned to a field unit in 1968.  We would go out on two or three day missions.  Dropped off by chopper and then we would collect our intelligence and then extracted.  Most of the time we did not have contact with the enemy.

Just prior to a mission I started to feel crummy.  Like a cold and it started to get worse.  By the time it was time to saddle up I was feeling pretty shitty.  However, we didn't chickenshit out of a mission.  

As the time went on it kept getting worse.  We landed and got our equipment and went trekking off to do our thing carrying a pretty heavy load.  After a couple of hours of going through some pretty bad brush I could hardly walk and collapsed.

We didn't have a medic with us and I was having serious trouble breathing.  They finally called in a medivac for me.

The chopper came in and picked me up.   On the way back the chopper got a call that there was a firefight nearby and there were casualties to be picked up.  The chopper landed and loaded up several wounded.

By the time we landed I was pretty much out of it.  I was also covered with blood from the wounds of the guys crowded into the chopper.

They came out with stretchers and took everybody into the field hospital.  I don't remember much.

I woke up the next day in a ward.  Next to me were all combat wounded guys.

Later in the morning a LtC came in and went from bed to bed handing out Purple Hearts.  He came to my bed.  He gave me the PH.  I could hardly talk and tried to tell him that I was just sick but my voice was not there with the pneumonia.  I remember the officer saying "there there son, everything is going to be fine."

It took me over a week to recover.  When I out processed I told them about the PH.  I was told not to worry about it that it will be corrected.  My medical record clearly said pneumonia, not a combat wound.

When I got back to my unit I told my CO about it and he just laughed and said don't worry about it, he will take care of it.

About a month later I had the wound in my hand and was given a real PH, even if it was not serious.

When I got my discharge papers both the PHs were on my DD-214.

Since I didn't stay in the Army I never really was compelled to do anything about it.  It is a joke as far as I am concerned.

My veteran's uniform stored away in the attic has the purple ribbon but it does not have the star on it.

Yeah as soon as Monsoon season hits...

A recount by one of the men my dad served with:

Attached File
A friend asked me to finish my story of Valentine's Ridge 14-15 February 1968 in Vietnam, so, without the assistance of my friend "JD", who gets the day off, here goes.  Attached picture is of HM2 Larry Jo Goss, Senior Corpsman for Kilo 3/9 who was KIA while shielding a wounded Marine on top of the ridge.  By Midnight of the 15th, all of the WIA's and one KIA from Kilo 3/9 had been brought off the ridge and returned to CaLu COB by two Platoons of India 3/9.  A tough decision had to be made to leave the bodies of 9 Marines and 1 Corpsman on the ridge, because not enough reinforcements were sent out to recover both the survivors and the dead.  It was hoped that another Company could go out the next day and recover the KIA's but there were just too many NVA on the ridges to attempt it without further loss of life.  However, nobody ever thought that no attempt to recover these men would be made for a full 20 days after they fell.  On March 5th, a reinforced recon unit "Team DELMAR", would climb the ridge and locate the decomposed remains of the 10 Kilo Co members.  Valentine's Ridge and the adjacent ridge lines were still teeming with NVA, so a Platoon from Kilo Co. was sent out to the ridge.  In an unusual twist, according to a member of DELMAR, the NVA on the ridges allowed Kilo Co. to remove the KIA's.  The DELMAR member, Tom Marshall (RIP) said that he was rear security as they descended from the ridge and he saw two NVA, in "squared away uniforms" and pith helmets, watching him.  They made no attempt to engage him nor he them.  A total of 9 complete bodies and 1 skull were brought back to the CaLu COB.  The "skull" brings it's own story.  Since the bodies were left on the ridge they had to be classified as MIA's, which caused immense heartache to the families..not knowing for sure if their loved one was dead or captured.  After being told that dental records would be the only real way of identifying the dead, the Battalion Commander gave an unthinkable order to Team DELMAR.  They were to climb the ridge and remove the heads of the deceased and bring them down.  It's believed they attempted to carry out this mission with one of the KIA's but just couldn't bring themselves to do this to brother Marines.  The leader of the mission reported what he had been ordered to do and it initiated a major investigation and members of DELMAR were ordered to never discuss the mission with anyone, under threat of court martial.  The Battalion Commander denied giving the order and blamed it on the Executive Officer, Major John Oliver, a "Mustanger" who had fought in the Korean War as an enlisted man.  Major Oliver, an excellent officer, received an Article 32 hearing and was forced to retire from the Marine Corps.  Major Oliver never got over it and took his own life on August 19, 1997..haunted to the end. Semper Fidelis Major Oliver and to all those left on Valentine's Ridge...I promised I would tell the "Rest of the Story" one day...and so I have.

My friend, Larry McCabe.

Took two through and through AK rounds on Hill 875, Dak To.

Didn't go home.

Healed up and went back to fight with his buddies.

I will see what my FIL has.

Since I bought it at a base PX and it came with the box and paperwork I don't believe it was a knockoff unless the Americans running it were in cahoots with the local Vietnamese.  The other thing about the watch is I wore it through jump school and the Special Forces Q course, it was finally retired in the early 80's when the glow in the dark shit faded out. After that, I used cheap timex watches that had a life span of about two or three years.  

I don’t think those words have ever been spoken here. I had to pause for a second.

But Yes, that’s what it looks like to me.