Fifteen paratroopers in my group died in the same battle in Vietnam on this day in 1967.
Two were especially close friends of mine, Johnny Albritton and David Gentry. Fortunately Johnny's best friend Gerald Soileau (they joined the Army together on the "Buddy System") was able to get to Johnny and hold on to him as he died and I looked on. Dozens more were wounded and we were trapped for two days in monsoon rains with only trees and rocks for shelter.
Fifty-two years later I am still in contact with Gerald and with David's daughter Kim as well as several other men I served with and some of their widows.
We cherish the freedom they fought for, the freedom to live the way of life they died for without big brother dictating our values.
They were not fighting for socialism. Socialism as championed in America is losers seeking to prey on winners while the socialist National Education Association seems as interested in teaching our children how to have anal sex as teaching how to be responsible citizens.
LT Clyde V. Moore, Irwinville, GA, B Co
SGT Johnny B. Albritton, Farmerville, LA, B Co \
SGT Cullen Barksdale, Gary, IN, B Co
SGT Willie Farmer, Pinetops, NC, A Co
SP4 Edward C. Beck, Carpentersville, IL, HQ Co
CPL David A. Gentry, Knox City, TX, B Co (Silver Star)
SP4 Kenneth L. Green, Roosevelt, AZ, HQ Co (Silver Star)
CPL Robert J. Smith, Buffalo, NY, B Co
PFC Clarence Rivers, Detroit, MI, B Co
SFC James B. Fields, Tulsa, OK, C Co
SSG Craig A. McDaniel, Lake Arrowhead, CA, C Co
SGT William E. Wilson, Euclid, OH, C Co (Silver Star)
CPL George E. Overshine, Lufkin, TX, C Co
CPL George H. Ulrich, Merrick, NY, C Co
PFC William E.Hamilton, Scottsdale, AZ, A Co
Steve Campbell
McDonald, Tn.
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Welcome home, Steve Campbell.
Royce Burrage, Jr.
Royce@Officially Chapped.org
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My brain can't process huge scale violence fast enough for it to have the intended impact so I have to watch movies like Saving Private Ryan two or three times. On the fourth Private Ryan, when the old soldier walks among the grave stones at Normandy at the very beginning, not two minutes into the film, I'm all blubbery. I can see it. Have half a gnat's wit and tell me you didn't cry. Powerful is not a good enough word for it.
I come from a big family and there have been many times when the question of "What if one of 'em died?" comes up. Sometimes somebody would answer with "Why heck, he's got 10 more to go. I don't know how he keeps up with 'em in the first place!" That never hurt my feelings because I understood how a guy from a family of four could have no idea what went down on my daily planet.
But trust me, I keep up. I feel every pain and joy that each of my brothers and sisters feel, all 10 of 'em and their kids, and I daily think about the eleventh who's up there with her sweet little girl and Mom and Dad and Jesus.
I read and re-read the list several times. Every single one of those 15 fallen had a momma and a daddy and a sister and a brother or a wife and a kid. All were literally or emotionally ripped apart on Sept. 28, 1967. Could have been somebody just like you and me. I could grasp that day if I saw it on the screen four or five times but to live it? I can't even begin to fathom.
Welcome home indeed, Mr. Campbell. I hope and pray you have found a way to cope. If I ever meet you, perhaps you'd be kind enough to stoop low and let me be your friend. Here's to you, great man!
Savage Glascock