6 May 1969

[1CAVCCO15MED]

Now I will tell you what happened to the poor fool on the ground. We were lying there in absolute terror waiting to be killed when there was a knock on the door. That really blew our minds. We asked, "Who's there?", not wanting to seem unhospitable. It was one of the guys that had been manning one of the bunkers on the green line and he said he was hurt bad. We opened the door and let him in. What we saw was grotesque. All he had on were his boots. His clothes had been blown off of him and he was covered all over in little holes from frags and sand. All we knew to do was cover his entire thorax with vaseline guaze in case there were sucking chest wounds and cover that with tape. My memory after that is disjointed, allowing only glimpses. The fight lasted almost all night. Other LZ's were being hit with ground attacks, including I think LZ Carolyn. Choppers were bringing in casualties by the dozens and guys were crawing in from the green line. Every time we unloaded a chopper tracers came at us. We got 167 casualties that night. We had places for four litters. We triaged, stabilized and sent to the big hospitals. Most of the supply guys and cooks pitched in a helped us. A guy from the motor pool named Hackney made numerous trips to the green line bunkers and dragged or carried guys back under fire. He never got a medal. I remember in order to see the wounds we had to lift up one end of the litters and pour the blood out like it was pouring from a bucket. I remember a foot slowly falling to the floor after I took a guy's boot off. The blood got ankle deep. Huge clots started forming on the floor. For some reason that is what scared me. We got cases of quarts of peroxide and poured them on the floor. The foam got about a foot high and we swept the foam out the door. We did this several times through the night. I remember giving a guy a shot in the thigh and it had so much blood under the skin that when I pulled the needle out the blood shot up about a foot. We kept getting more casualties and the tracers just quit being important. I remember watching them with a kind of detached curiosity. Very severely wounded were often fully alert and in no pain and calm. If they asked how bad it was we told them. I held at least twenty hands that night as guys died, going through the whole grieving process as a nineteen year old in fifteen minutes until they were at peace and ready to go. I had the most profound conversations of my life that night. We talked about girls, cars and even bicycles because that is all some of them had ever had. We talked about mom. As they died I followed them down to the very doors of death and then there was this awful snap as they left me there by myself. No time to grieve, on to the next one. I remember the number as twenty two. I died with twenty two guys that night. I carried them to the body tent over and over.
The next morning I remember going to the mess tent and sitting down to eat. I was about halfway through the meal when I noticed my hands we covered in blood and brains. I was so numb I could not care. I kept eating.

[1CAVCCO15MED]

Through it all I never met one single loser.

[phuloi]

A fountain of sorrow...

[1CAVCCO15MED]

In talking to some of my buddies from my company I have made the statement that this was not just the worst day of my life, it was the best. We did more good on that day than most people do in a lifetime. I feel i was blessed by God for being there and being able to help so many in such dire circumstances. I would do it again tomorrow. We were damn good.

[frisco-kid]

I'm sorry you were so severely "wounded" that night. But you were able to function and save lives. And more importantly, you were able to comfort these brave men on their transition from this world to the next by being the last kind face they would see, making sure the last words they heard were kind and careing ones. I witnessed many acts of unrecognized bravery over there, and your actions that night is equal to any of them. God bless you, Fred.

"COURAGE IS RESISTANCE TO FEAR, MASTERY OF FEAR-NOT ABSENCE OF FEAR." Mark Twain--1894

[frisco-kid]

God saved you in that Hell because he had other plans for you. You were meant to live and find your niche in life as Deb's lover and soulmate. To help your fellow warriors to heal and cope with their invisible wounds. To be present at the passing of your Dad, as is the proper sequence of things. And to remind others of the actions of the men that you served with in that particular Hell, that aren't here to do it themselves.

WELCOME HOME, MY FRIEND.

[billygun]

My thoughts and prayers are with. Now society is unable to understand the suffering and anguish of times you described. Losers, certainly not.



Semper Fi, Gentlemen

[Andy]

Your a better man than I am. On behalf of grunts who needed medics throughout that entire war, Thank you, thank so very much.

Stay healthy,
Andy

[Arrow]

I don't need to say this cause I think all of you that really know me know that I wouldn't be hangin' on this corner if I thought you were a bunch of losers. When I found you and then begin to listen (and it is listening when you read with your heart) I knew I found some really good men and brothers.

It is some three years down the road and a whole lot of time and I feel the same way. Blessed to know you. Comforted by you through pm, messages on the board, phone calls to check on me, and putting up with my high's and low's not to mention my Irish temper.

You are an exceptional group of guys, I see the representation of all that is good in the American Male here in this family we have. Good husbands, Great Dads, Loyal Brothers, men that have worked hard in their life times, intelligence, compassion, brave and courageous hearts.

The lessons I have learned here from your worst of times to your best of times have helped make me a stronger better person. I just want to thank you for taking me in and teaching me and allowing me to be part of who you are. The best that my generation had to offer. God Bless you all. sis

[Arrow]

I couldn't resist doing this. I figured it was a safe bet that all the old warrants had ran out on these guys and the Law down South wasn't lookin' for them. Some of you have seen this so you know the one with the hair is Packo, MARINEVET in the center. The other mean lookin' Marine is? Heck I don't know.

They clean up pretty good don't they? The title of the picture is "Three old men with cups" (that's how it came to me I "ain't " taken responsibility for that name.) The moral of this story is don't trust your picture to a girl with a Compaq Presario.