Vietnam 67 (1 Viewer)

Women Who Fought for Hanoi - Accounts by five women who fought for North Vietnam.
My son Dr. William Thomas Allison teaches military history at Georgia Southern University. He is the author of "Military Justice in Vietnam", "The Tet Offensive" and 'My Lai, An American Atrocity in the Vietnam War" that you might be interested in. Tommy
 
The editor of Vietnam 67 interviewed Sandy Anderson, a Vietnam Veteran and currently General Manager of the Mets.

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From the Marines to the Mets: Questions for Sandy Anderson

These days, Sandy Alderson is best known as the general manager of the New York Mets – and before that the San Diego Padres and the Oakland A’s. But long before he got into the baseball business, Alderson went to Vietnam three times – twice while he was a student at Dartmouth, and then again as an officer in the Marines.

I had a chance to ask Alderson about his memories of Vietnam.

Clay Risen: You were in the Naval ROTC in college, but your first trips to Vietnam came before you graduated. Can you talk about that first visit, in the summer of 1967? Why did you go, how did you get there and what did you see?

Sandy Alderson: I just wanted to visit my dad. He was an Air Force B-57 pilot flying night missions over North Vietnam, whose squadron would rotate in and out of Vietnam every two months, which was unusual. Because of this odd rotation, my family lived at Clark Air Force Base in the Philippines. I flew there on military transports for Christmas and the summer, which made it easy, once I had a Vietnamese government visa as a “freelance journalist,” to fly from Manila to Saigon by commercial air. I made my way to Phan Rang, near Cam Ranh Bay, where Dad was stationed, and stayed about a week. I flew with him once in the navigator’s seat on a “test hop,” but mostly watched him fly off in the early evening and waited for him to return later that night. We hung out at the officers’ club with some Aussie pilots who were also stationed there. This was all a big adventure for me. I was 19.

CR: And then you went back again, the next year. You even got to Khe Sanh – how did you manage that?

SA: I went back to Vietnam in May of 1968. Although I had gotten into the country the year earlier, I had not been “accredited” by the U.S. Army, so I didn’t have access to most military facilities or transport. Dad wasn’t in Vietnam this time, but with Army accreditation I was able to go all over the country and traveled often with network and print journalists and photographers. I carried a 35 mm still camera and an 8 mm movie camera, with no sound. If I had had sound, I could’ve sold my stuff to the networks, I’m sure. I went on air missions and spent time at Khe Sanh, Da Nang, Hue and a lot of other places, mostly with the Marines and Air Force. One night at Khe Sanh was all I needed. The siege had ended by that time but it was still a target. The rats bothered me the most.

CR: After each trip, you went back to college life. What was life on campus like, at the time – and was your impression colored by those first two trips? Even at Dartmouth, did you notice any antiwar sentiment?

SA: While I was in Vietnam in 1968, I wrote one article for the student newspaper, The Daily Dartmouth. I don’t know why, for I quickly concluded that few on campus wanted to read what I had to report. Wrong readership for my stuff, which was more fact based than political. Hanover, New Hampshire, wasn’t Berkeley, California, and we had a large contingent of ROTC students at the college, but the campus was heavily divided and there were significant protests, and a brief building occupation, my senior year. When I was commissioned during graduation in June 1969, the ceremony was guarded by a perimeter of state troopers. Those were the ’60s.

CR: By the time you got to Vietnam as a Marine, you probably knew more about the war than most of your fellow second lieutenants. What was your impression of the war by then? You'd seen it in 1967 and ’68; had things changed, from your perspective?

SA: By the time I got back to Vietnam in 1970, after basic officer training and Vietnamese language school, things had changed there for Marines and with the overall war effort. An entire division of Marines had gone home, and offensive operations had diminished for the rest of us. Our job in the First Division was to keep rockets from hitting the Da Nang airbase. In the eight months I was there before we were pulled out, I had about five different jobs, some of them, like platoon commander and company XO, more than once. It was a little chaotic.

CR: You went on to a long career in law and, of course, baseball. How did your time in Vietnam and the Marines shape the rest of your life?

SA: No question that the Marine Corps has shaped my professional career, and probably my personal life as well. While some of my training has stayed relevant, the Marine culture and my fellow Marines had the greatest impact by far. I worked for two future commandants and with many other Marines who became my heroes and mentors. How could I forget O.K. Steele (what a name for a Marine), P.X. Kelley (ditto), John Grinalds or Jim Jones? Or John Marley, Charlie Dean or Juan Escobar? I’ve never wanted to let down any of these Marines, or others, from long ago. I hope I never do.

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Lieut. Col John Alderson with his son Sandy Alderson in Phan Rang, South Vietnam.
 
My son Dr. William Thomas Allison teaches military history at Georgia Southern University. He is the author of "Military Justice in Vietnam", "The Tet Offensive" and 'My Lai, An American Atrocity in the Vietnam War" that you might be interested in. Tommy

Tommy, I saw your son's CV at Georgia Southern. He's quite distinguished with many publications from well respected publishers. If I lived in the area, I'd want to take his courses. I'm sure you must be quite proud.

Brad
 
Tommy, I saw your son's CV at Georgia Southern. He's quite distinguished with many publications from well respected publishers. If I lived in the area, I'd want to take his courses. I'm sure you must be quite proud.

Brad
Thanks Brad. We are very proud of Bill. Tommy
 
A Little Piece of Paper Couldn't Take A Son Away by James G. Van Straten, who served as the senior medical adviser to the Army of the Republic of Vietnam in I Corps.

Air America Terminal on the Da Nang Air Base and was told by the dispatcher that they had an all-weather-capable C-47 flight that would depart Da Nang for Quang Tri in 45-minutes. There was one seat available.

I hurried to the terminal and after checking in noticed an American man in the waiting area. He was about 50 years old and in civilian clothing. All alone, he slowly and aimlessly paced across the small terminal. I respected his privacy and chose not to bother him with conversation, even though I was curious about why he was there.

Upon boarding the small aircraft, we found ourselves in seats across the aisle from each other. Just a few minutes after takeoff he leaned over and asked, “Excuse me, Major, but do you know where Operation Hastings was fought?”

I told him that I did, and that I had been very involved with a South Vietnamese Army operation named Lam Son 289 that was fought in close proximity to, and supportive of, Operation Hastings. He handed me a map of Vietnam and asked me to circle the area where the operation had been fought.
He took it back and studied it. After a long moment, he said that his only son had been killed in Operation Hastings and that he “felt compelled to get over here to see where it was.”

He was the fourth or fifth American civilian that I had encountered who was seeking solace or closure by visiting the site where a son had died. It surprised me that American civilians were allowed to visit Vietnam during time of war, but I found out that there were no restrictions on foreigners traveling in the country. It was discouraged, but not prohibited.

I offered my condolences, and then he started talking about his son's death. It was as if the floodgates had opened. It seemed to me that this was probably one of the few times, possibly even the very first time, that he had really talked about his son’s death, so I let him talk uninterruptedly, thinking it might be cathartic for him.

I’ll paraphrase what he said, sticking to his words as I remember them. “I didn’t even know he was dead,” he began. “I was in Chicago at a business meeting when Mary” — his wife — “called the hotel where I was staying and left a message at the desk. When I received it that evening I couldn’t believe it. It said Michael had been killed in action. It wasn’t real. A little piece of paper, hotel stationery, just couldn’t take a son away.”

He went on to tell me that he felt he had to get home to Mary as quickly as possible; he knew that she was alone and needed him badly. Then he said: “The boy didn’t write much, but Mary and I understood. Maybe a letter a week, maybe not even that often — but that was fine with Mary and me. There was a letter maybe 10 or 12 days before it happened. It didn’t say much about where he was or what he was doing. He wrote a few lines about a fishing trip that he and I had taken just before he went to Vietnam and about what we’d do when he got back. He was lonely, I guess. He was only 18 years old, but even a boy of 18 can be lonely, you know.”

When we parted in Quang Tri he was trying to hire someone to take him out to the site where Operation Hastings had been fought. As he walked away I couldn’t help but think, “Yes, a boy of 18 can be lonely, and so can a man of 50, not only lonely but heartbroken.”​

Van Straten served as the founding dean of the division of professional studies at Incarnate Word College and the dean of the School of Allied Health Sciences at the University of Texas Health Science Center. He is the author of the book “A Different Face of War.”

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Soldiers Killed at Operation Hastings
 
I wonder how much angst could have been taken out of the anti-war protests if there had been no draft during the Vietnam war? I'm not familiar with the reasoning behind the draft but it seemingly created a lot of fear and backlash among younger folks. It is somewhat difficult to believe the US military didn't have sufficient manpower to field an army in Vietnam without the draft or that a populist appeal to anti-communist sentiment would not have generated a certain number of more highly motivated recruits than a draft. It's an issue that I have never heard discussed in a military rather than political context.
 
As one who lived during that time, I think the draft was a factor but how large I can't say. With or without a draft, a growing concern developed about our being there and the increasing loss of life.
 
I was in college in the late sixties. I think the draft made a big difference in motivating our youth and their families to first question and then protest the war. When it affects your life and limb you become more critical. In addition the percentage of population attending college had increased exponentially and campuses and classrooms encouraged free thinking, research and questioning the establishment.
My opinions were shaped by friends and relatives returning from Vietnam who were all either disheartened or outright repulsed by the war. I was then motivated to do my own research and being that I was going to school in Washington DC I had access to politicians, historians, journalists and academics.
The real angst came before the lottery was instituted......if you are against the war but want to stay loyal to your country what do you do? I decide to join the National Guard but I know good people who left the country or went to jail.
The two opposing bumper stickers were....."America, love it or leave it"
"America, if you love it fight to make it better"
 
Brotherhood and Loss in the Mekong Delta - An account by a veteran of Charlie Company (Second Platoon, Fourth Battalion, 47th Infantry, regiment of the Ninth Infantry Division) of action at Ap Bac Village, south of Can Giouc near the Vietnamese coast.
 
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HS graduation June 66
Parris Island July 66.
Three years USMC
RVN 68-69
Primary MOS Supply
RVN MOS Ammo Dump Security
SDSU graduation 74

I joined for an adventure and the GI Bill for College.

Although San Diego is a military city, many protests still occurred.
Many "students" attended college to avoid Military Service.
If no draft existed then the protests would not have existed.
 
If you'd like to write about it, I'm sure people would like to hear more. Did you see any action and were you near any big cities?
 
We were in the foothills about three miles west of the Da Nang airbase.
Some day you can buy me a large glass of Port and
I might tell you a number of entertaining stories.
 
I now live in a retirement community.
Listening to residents describing why
they did not serve is more entertaining.
 
Hopefully I can get out to San Diego sometime soon and treat you to a few glasses :smile2:

Brad
 
You probably have many Viet Nam Veterans living in your area.
Visit a Vet Outreach Center.
However, beware of the many many many Bull ****ters.
 
When Your Father — or Grandfather — Is a Veteran by Peter Youmans, a Psychologist with the Department of Veteran Affairs

Glenn's grandchildren will never know that they have kept him alive.

He will never be able to tell them how their giggles, their jokes, their intuitive sense that he could do no harm are what keep him choosing life each day. He might never be able to explain how their games of chase remind him of the children he saw in Vietnam scattering and taking cover, how their innocence is sometimes his only basis for hope. He cannot explain why he shouts at them when they are reckless or too trusting. He cannot follow them beyond the tree line when they run out into the yard to play. He would not hesitate to take a bullet for them, a sentiment he has not felt for anyone since he came home from Vietnam in 1967. He lives for them, almost despite himself. Yet they may never know.

As a Veterans Affairs psychologist practicing outpatient psychotherapy for Vietnam veterans, I am privileged with an understanding of how those who served in that war are often sustained solely by the presence of their children and grandchildren. Countless times I have heard in my office, “If it weren’t for my grandson, I don’t know what I would do.”

Glenn, whose last name I’ll leave out to protect his privacy, served with the 173rd Airborne Brigade in Vietnam in a one-year tour that ended in late summer 1967 with a bullet to his leg. This “million-dollar wound” early in fierce fighting spared him the carnage his unit would suffer that November in the Battle of Dak To. Nonetheless, he could never have imagined that there would be days at home when he wished he had died in the Highlands with his men.

He came home and his father, who had never said a word about his own World War II service, simply asked him, “when are you going to get a job?” Glenn’s mother was too frightened by his night terrors to risk probing him about his time overseas. The public castigation of his service fueled a rage in him monstrous enough that he isolated for fear of what he might do to others.

His two marriages collapsed under the weight of conflict, heavy drinking and mounting shame, and he gradually retreated from relationships beyond those at the local V.F.W. Even among other combat veterans, there was a tacit agreement to say only so much, and he was left to reconcile the heart-rending moments of the war alone.

By the time his children grew to an age worthy of adult conversation and his grandchildren arrived, Glenn had erected an almost impenetrable wall of preoccupation and reticence. He knew better than to risk judgment, misunderstanding, glazing eyes or comments like “isn’t it time to get over it.” His family had come to believe that he would rather not be asked. They felt the sting of his wrath and the regret of his tailspin when they had tried to talk to him.

Meanwhile, Glenn kept silent out of fear that if they really knew him, they would leave him.
With so little knowledge of what the Vietnam veteran carries, the ensuing silence leaves wives, partners, children and grandchildren to conclude that they are to blame, and that they are not loved. But sometimes nothing could be further from the truth.

The wives who have suffered years of emotional absence, of fits of violence, of psychic collapse, will never know how they have buoyed him. The sons and daughters may never know the regret their veteran father carries for the estrangement that has eclipsed their relationship. And the grandchildren may never realize how they have extended their grandfathers’ lives.

Fifty years have passed. Arthritic patterns of communication are entrenched. Yet many of the men who served in Vietnam yearn to talk to their family. These fathers do not know how to start the conversation.
Now, though, perhaps more can be said. Family should know that despite the silence that is interrupted only with brusqueness, their father or grandfather may want to explain why the cliché of “part of me died over there” remains so relevant. Veterans can benefit from knowing that their family members may judge them more as a result of knowing so little than they would if they knew a little more.

How to begin? Choose a quiet time without distraction. “It has been a long time since we talked about Vietnam. Would you like to say more? I am listening.” Perhaps this simple invitation can provide one last chance for a conversation that can enhance understanding, build support and begin the healing. A conversation that might help Glenn and all the others continue their way home.​
 
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Aircraft spraying Agent Orange during Operation Ranch Hand


Agent Orange and Us


During the Vietnam War, the United States sprayed some 20 million gallons of the defoliant known as Agent Orange over South Vietnam, Cambodia and Laos. Nearly four million people were exposed to the chemical, which the government claimed was non-toxic. The government was wrong: Fifty years later, approximately one million people in Asia and the United States suffer from a range of disorders, including multiple forms of cancer, that have been linked to Agent Orange exposure.

I recently had the chance to speak with two veterans, Mike Morris and Dick Pirozzolo, who were exposed to Agent Orange and later suffered from related maladies.

Clay Risen: Can you talk about your exposure to Agent Orange?

Mike Morris: I was in the infantry in 1967, serving first on the coast south of Chu Lai, then up in the mountains west of Danang, and then inland toward the Laos/Cambodia border. As infantry, you never knew what was going on. You were isolated in the boondocks. I never knew anything about Agent Orange, or any defoliant. But I did have a couple of incidents. One time we were on patrol, and we stumbled into this valley, and suddenly there was no jungle. No jungle at all. Everything was rotting. There were no leaves on the trees.

All of this went into the “deep file” until 2012, when I was diagnosed with prostate cancer. It’s a marker for Agent Orange — studies show that lethal high-grade prostate cancer, like what I had, can be directly linked to it. The Veterans Affairs doctors said we had to get on it, and in 2013 I had my prostate removed. And here I am.

Dick Pirozzolo: I served mostly in Saigon. I was in the Air Force, and I knew that Agent Orange was being sprayed. I thought it was a good thing. Later I was out in field, working at a radio relay site. If I was exposed, it was through the water and the air. Much later, Mike was telling me about his struggles with prostate cancer. Well, at the time I was dealing with bladder cancer, and as it turns out a number of bladder cancer cases are linked to Agent Orange. In addition, I've had thyroid problems stemming from Graves' disease, which may be included among four new categories of diseases presumed to be linked to Agent Orange: bladder cancer, hypothyroidism, Parkinson-like symptoms and hypertension (high blood pressure).

MM: Here we are, both veterans, 50 years removed, and we’re still dealing with the repercussions.

CR: Did you have any sense at the time that this defoliant was dangerous?

MM: Honestly, I didn’t give it much thought. I was in an active war zone, after all — these things happen. And again, we were isolated. It was like there was a giant iron door out there that shut everything out. It was weeks before we even learned about the Six Days’ War.

DP: I worked as a public information officer, and I caught glimpses. But most folks I knew thought Agent Orange was a good thing; we saw it as a positive. I do recall a couple of guys coming in once, reporters, covering the environmental consequences of the war. My impression was, come on, it’s a war. And it was the 1960s and ’70s — people didn’t have that kind of awareness.

MM: Right — we did so much destruction to the countryside, even without Agent Orange. We’d call in Arc Light, a B-52 strike all the way from Guam, and they’d tear down an entire mountainside. We’d hike through an area that had been hit by napalm, and everything would be burned, with globs of napalm still hanging from trees.

CR: When did you first start to hear about Agent Orange’s effects as a toxic substance?

MM: I became a reporter for Gannett. I’d meet with veterans with skin conditions, whose kids had birth defects. But when I talked to the V.A., they totally refused to help them.

DP: I think what broke things was a class-action lawsuit against six chemical companies that was settled in 1984. Once that prevailed, things really began to change at the V.A.

CR: It’s kind of striking to think that the V.A., which was supposed to help veterans, was completely ignoring their claims. I gather that’s changed?

MM: The V.A. literally saved my life. But today’s V.A. is not like the V.A. I encountered in 1968. When I got back from Vietnam, my dad, a disable World War II veteran, said, go down there. But in 1968, ’69, it was a freaking tomb. We were widgets. I met with a shrink who just threw meds at me. I had a lot of friends who got into drugs that way.

DP: Yes, the V.A. has totally changed. There are many medical conditions that the V.A. now accepts are caused by Agent Orange exposure — you don’t have to prove anything. And they will take care of you. And the service is much better. Every town has a local VA representative, who along with organizations like the American Legion and Disabled American Veterans will help vets apply for VA benefits.

CR: What else has changed?

DP: The advent of social media has meant that the internet has become a forum for talking about Agent Orange and sharing information. And there’s just generally more access to information now than before.

MM: The whole experience of being a veteran is different. We’re much less reluctant to hide our service. We feel it’s time to get out. Veterans today of all ages are more respected, and that’s helped us talk about Agent Orange and what it did to us.

Dick Pirozzolo served in the Air Force in Vietnam and is the founder of Pirozzolo Company Public Relations. Mike Morris served in the Army and is a retired newspaper reporter. They are the authors of the novel “Escape From Saigon.”
 
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