Khe Sanh Veterans Association Inc.

Red Clay
Newsletter of the Veterans who served at Khe Sanh Combat Base,
Hill 950, Hill 881, Hill 861, Hill 861-A, Hill 558
Lang-Vei and Surrounding Area

Issue 46   Spring Summer 2000

Short Rounds

Home
In This Issue
Editor's Notes  Health Matters  Reunion
Memoirs  Poetry  Poems  In Memoriam

Articles in this Section:

PFC Spicer   Chaplain Roland Gittlesohn  Ray Stubbe  Remembering Jim Epps   
Stoddard Bunch   Primary Selection   I Need IT by Friday   The Fight for 881 North 
Radio Call Signs at Khe Sanh   The Baig Letter   "Officers" Club

I am writing now while my thoughts are fresh. I will try and remember, to the best of my ability, the events of that morning, in which Pfc Spicer reported for duty with Bravo Company1/26.

Companies Alpha and Bravo happened to share command posts in the same tent prior to the attack on Khe Sanh. I was present on the Alpha Co. half of the tent the day Pfc Spicer reported in. It was either the day he reported in or it was the first day. He was able to speak to Capt. Pipes. Pfc Spicer was accompanied by another Marine, most probably the Gunny. There were a handful of Marines in the Bravo Co. section, as well as a few on the Alpha side.

There was normal conversation at first, business as usual. After a few moments, however, we heard a raised voice or two. If my memory serves me well, it was Capt. Pipes that was speaking at the time our attentions were drawn to their area of the tent. He was not yelling at Pfc Spicer, as such. I think his voiced raised out of frustration more than anything. He asked Pfc Spicer how in the world he managed to get into a combat infantry unit if he was a bonafide Conscientious Objector. Pfc Spicer explained to him his various stops along the way, mentioning that all had been documented in his service record. I remember Capt. Pipes looking repeatedly at the record book and looking up now and then, asking a question from time to time. I think the longer Capt. Pipes read the contents, the more frustrated he became. He was well aware of how the military bureaucracy worked at times. We are talking passing the buck here. Let someone else take care of this sticky problem. If there is accountability to be held in this situation, it is the manner in which Pfc Spicer, and his beliefs, were handled by commanders down the line. In my opinion, Capt. Pipes handled the situation admirably and honorably, to the best of his ability.

It seemed to us, on the other side of the tent, that for each question Capt. Pipes had for Pfc Spicer, the Marine had a reasonable and honest answer for it. Pfc Spicer kept his composure at all times. Things were pretty quiet in between questions and answers. You could cut the air with a knife, it was so heavy. We all became very still on our side, as not to interfere. If I were able to read Capt. Pipe's mind I would say that he waffled between anger and frustration at the events that brought these two together.

After a few minutes, Pfc Spicer was dismissed; along with other Marines that were in attendance, without knowing what disposition would be taken in the matter. I cannot recall what happened immediately after these events.

I too believe in my heart that Pfc Spicer was a CO.

When he was explaining to Capt. Pipes his predicament, his expressions were those of sincerity and honesty. To this day, I believe Pfc Spicer's statements were valid and spoken with the utmost integrity.

A few days into the siege, we heard that Pfc Spicer was assisting with Charlie Med. The scuttle butt was that Spicer was performing heroically, extracting the wounded from the area, giving cover to Marines as they were being carried to Charlie Med. Eventually, we heard that he was wounded severely and had been Medevaced out. We also heard that he had been put in for the Navy Cross.

I did not know, until a few months ago, that Pfc Spicer had contracted an infection while in Japan and died. My heart sank when told this. I was deeply saddened and hurt. I feel this way even as I write this.

I anguish over Pfc Spicer's death. I try not to question God's plan, but sometimes I wonder at the price that is paid. I do know that Pfc Spicer was so special that the Good Lord needed him for something very important.

Many times through the years I have wished that I had known Pfc Spicer personally. I believe we would have gotten along quite well.

In my life I have had two role models, one is my Father and the other, my Brother. I have also had heroes. In fact, I have 58,000 of them. They are on a wall in Washington D. C. He, Spicer, is at the top of that list. Not only is he a genuine hero, but also a hero in the sense that he stood up for his convictions and would not compromise his beliefs. His parents must be so proud of him.

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14 March 1945

The following was submitted by John Kaheny:

This is perhaps the grimmest and surely the holiest task we have faced since D-Day. Before us lie the bodies of comrades and fiends, men who until yesterday or last week laughed with us, trained with us, men who were on the same ships with us, went over the sides with us as we prepared to hit the beaches on this island, men who fought with us and feared with us.

Somewhere in the plot of ground there may lay the man who could have discovered the cure for cancer. Under these Christian crosses or beneath a Jewish Star of David, there may rest a man who was destined to be a great prophet -- to find the way, perhaps, for all to live in plenty. Now they lie here silently in this sacred soil, and we gather to consecrate this earth in their memory.

To speak in memory of such men as these is not easy. Of them, too, can it be said with utter truth: "The world will little note nor long remember what we say here. It can never forget what they did here."

These men have done their job well. They have paid the ghastly price of freedom. If that freedom be once again lost, as it was after the last war, the unforgivable blame will be ours not theirs. So it is we, "the living," who are here to be dedicated and consecrated.

We declare ourselves, first, to live together in peace the way they fought and are buried in the war. Here lie men who loved America because their ancestor's generations ago helped in her founding. And other men who loved her with equal passion. Because they themselves and their own fathers escaped from oppression to her blessed shores. Here lie officers and men; Negroes and Whites; Protestants, Catholics and Jews, together. Here no man prefers another because of his faith or despises him because of his color.

Any man among us; "the living," who fails to understand that, will thereby betray those who lie here dead. To this, then, as our solemn duty, do we, the living, now dedicate ourselves: to the right of Protestants, Catholics and Jews, of White men and Negroes alike, to enjoy the democracy for which all of them have here paid the price.

To one thing more do we consecrate ourselves in memory of those who sleep beneath these crosses and stars. This war, with all its frightful heartache and suffering, is but the beginning of our generation's struggle for democracy. When the last battles have been won, there will still be those at home, as there were last time, who will want us to turn our backs in selfish isolation on the rest of organized humanity and thus to sabotage the very peace for which we fight. We promise you who lie here: We will not do that!

When the last shot has been fired, there will still be those whose eyes are turned backward, not forward, who will be satisfied with those wide extremes of poverty and wealth in which the seed of another war can be sown. We promise you, our departed comrades: this, too, we will not permit. This war has been fought by the common man! We promise, by all that is sacred and holy, that your sons; the sons of miners and millers, the sons of farmers and workers; will inherit from your death the right to a living that is decent and secure.

When the final cross has been placed in the last cemetery, once again there will be those to whom profit is more important than peace. Those who will insist with the voice of sweet reasonableness and appeasement that it is better to trade with the enemies of mankind than by crushing them or dose their profit. To you who sleep here silently we give our promise:

We will not listen! We will not forget that some of you were burnt with oil that came from American wells, that many of you were killed by shells fashioned from American steed. We promise that when once again men seek profit at your expense, we shall remember how you looked when we placed you reverently in the ground.

Thus do we memorialize those who have ceased living with us. Thus do we consecrate ourselves; the living, to carry on the struggle they began. Too much blood has gone into this soil for us to let it lie barren. Too much pain and heartache have fertilized the earth on which we stand. We here solemnly swear: this shall not be in vain! Out of this, and from the suffering and sorrow of those who mourn, this will come, we promise, the birth of a new freedom for the sons of men everywhere. AMEN

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Notes

Those on the lines who looked out at the great unknown, especially at night, and wondered, "when are the NVA going to rush us with those 40,000 soldiers?" never knew. Actually, we had a brand-new set of "eyes" (or, in this case "ears"} in the form of electronic sensors that illuminated the battlefield. In fact, these sensors saved those on Hill 881-South from being assaulted by a regimental-size force in early February, and those manning the eastern perimeter of the Combat Base itself (37th ARVN Rangers and those from B/1/26) from another 28/29 February. In both cases, these large forces were detected by the electronic sensors, and annihilated by our supporting arms. These sensors were diverted from Laos to support us, at Khe Sanh, on an emergency basis as the Siege started, and one of the main units to deliver and "seed" them in the areas around Khe Sanh was a newly-arrived Navy unit, VO-67, operating out of NKP, Thailand. Two full crews were shot down and became MIA during this effort.

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Remembering Jim Epps

Jim Epps, chaplain of the Khe Sanh Veterans Association from 1996 to 1999, died on January 18, 2000. He was a thoughtful, supportive member of the association. Over the years, he attended many of our reunions and his kind words touched many members of our association. He will be sorely missed.

Following Jim's death, Mike Worth, a member of the Khe Sanh Veterans Board of Directors, noted that Jim had often expressed the wish that his legacy could be a perpetual care fund for the memorials we have established at Arlington National Cemetery and Jefferson Barracks National Cemetery, as well as any memorials the association may establish in the future. The Khe Sanh Veterans Board of Directors is investigating the establishment of such a fund. "Jim, all of us wish you Godspeed."

Bill Jayne
Chaplain, Khe Sanh Veterans Association

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Stoddard Bunch

In January of 1985 I retired from the Army at Fort Hood, Texas at the age of thirty eight, being separated from my first wife and with nothing holding me back, I accepted my first civilian job in the Windy City, better known as Chicago. I was going to manage a large fleet of limousines and within three months after my arrival I had accomplished two major events. One was that I had successfully implemented a military style maintenance program thereby putting all eighteen vehicles on the road at any given time. The second and most important event was the fact that I had fallen in love with a young girl who worked in the dispatch office. Her name was Sue, she was the boss's sister, and she was also only twenty-three years old. I know what you're thinking! And yes the words "robbing the cradle" were spoken amongst the in-laws more than once. But for Sue and l, love had no age. The sixteen years that separated us didn't seem to matter at all and we were married a year later.

Sue had already signed up to join the Air Force and was waiting to be called when we met. One week after we were married, Sue departed for boot camp and I became a camp follower for the next few months until we ended up at our first permanent duty station, Nellis Air Force Base in Las Vegas, Nevada. We had our first child, Christopher, in 1990. Billy arrived thirteen months later. Needless to say, Chris and Billy were our pride and joy and, of course, our world revolved around their every need.

While Sue was pregnant with Billy, we were getting concerned that Chris had a problem. Something was just not right. He was not meeting his milestones on time and was still having problems holding his head up. The base doctors kept telling us that he was just a little slow and that he would catch up. Finally Sue had enough and said, "no he's NOT just slow" and she demanded an evaluation. After being referred to Early Intervention (El) services it was determined that Chris was slow. The therapists at EI suggested we see a neurologist to see if we could find out what was wrong. That's when all the blood tests and an MRI came. Our Chris had low CO2, elevated alanine, lactic and pyruvic acid levels as well as lesions (brain damage) in the Thalamus. What all that means is there was something going on inside Chris' body that prevented him from metabolizing or using his food properly and giving him the energy he (and his brain) needed to run at peak efficiency. It's kind of like an 8 cylinder engine running on only 5. Of course at the time we didn't know all that. Chris was given a label of Cerebral Palsy (CP} and the possibility of a metabolic disorder was discussed. Because there was no specialist here in town no further testing was done and Chris went on with his therapies and did fine.

When Billy was born he seemed just fine. He did everything a baby is supposed to do on time and was growing like a weed. That's when he was given the name Billy Goat because he literally ate all the time! By 10 months old he weighed near 30 pounds! At that time Sue had orders for Iceland so I brought in a nanny for the long year that she would be gone. Everything went well for the first six months. Chris could not talk or walk on his own, but he was the fastest crawler on the block. But then I noticed that Billy who had been walking and talking was starting to slow down. By the time Sue got back from Iceland, Billy was a mirror image of his brother Chris. He was having trouble walking and talking. Even worse then that was the fact that he could hardly crawl. He just seemed to lose all his energy. I was scared, to say. the least. Here I had the two best kids in the world and all I could do was watch as they both just kept getting weaker and weaker.

We made an appointment with the neurologist again and ran all the same tests as with Chris. The results were exactly the same! Now I knew this wasn't just Cerebral Palsy. This was the day that our war began! I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I had always thought that at least Billy would be able to protect his big brother Chris at school. Now that wasn't going to be.

We were referred to a geneticist and it was she who came up with the suspected disorder of Pyruvate Dehydrogenase Deficiency (PDH}. Sue read every medical book she could get her hands on doing research. This disease was an awful one and we were just hoping maybe the geneticist was wrong. We were then referred to one of the best metabolic doctors in the country and had every blood test known to man taken. It took us six hours to drive from Las Vegas to Children's Hospital in San Diego. The doctor took less then thirty minutes to confirm our worst fears...our two precious boys had a 99% chance of having Leigh's Disease, a degenerative (fatal) mitochondrial disorder (PDH can fall under the Leigh's Disease umbrella of disorders). Thank you, good-bye! Well, it wasn't THAT bad, but at the time it sure seemed like it! I don't even remember the drive home; Sue and l were in shock. I hadn't been able cry since I left Vietnam, but we both did the whole way home. Our boys were going to die and there was nothing we could do about it!

We tried denial, but that did no good. Sue blamed herself while I blamed Vietnam and Agent Orange, but that also did no good. Sue was fighting in her way, while I was fighting in mine. I just couldn't come to terms with this. I'm the Dad. I'm the protector. If this war was like Vietnam, then the answer would be easy...just kill the enemy or fall on a grenade. What ever it took to protect my kids I'd do.

After a while everything sunk in and we vowed to treat the kids as normal as possible. Sue continued to research metabolic disorders and within a few months she knew as much as any doctor. She sounded like one too! We stopped all testing since what we had so far had turned up nothing concrete. It didn't matter what the exact name of the disease was, the outcome was the same. Why put the kids though all that. Our thoughts were just let them have a happy life, however long it lasted.

Eventually Sue was more or less forced out of the Air Force after 9 years of service because it was too hard to juggle TDYs and the kids' needs. Instead of working on airplanes, she works with handicapped kids in the school district. She is a substitute teacher right now, but is pursuing her teaching degree in special education. She also does respite care for other parents with handicapped kids. Respite care is another name for babysitting, sort of. I mean parents of medically involved kids just can't leave them with any teenage babysitter. She also helps other families negotiate the medical, social services and school mazes. Those can be quite daunting! Me? Well, I help as best I can.

That trip to San Diego seems like such a long time ago, but we've learned a lot in the past few years. One thing is to take it one day at a time. Remember that's how we did it in the 'Nam? We try to make each day a special one. Both of the boys have a great sense of humor and there's a lot of joking going on around the Stoddard house. While Sue is off doing her teaching, I'm the guy who stays at home and watches for the school bus.

In general, Chris and Billy Goat are doing fine. Billy is fed through a tube surgically placed in his stomach, and as I'm writing this, Chris is getting operated on for the same thing (they cannot eat with their mouths anymore). It's no party, but this operation will help them live a lot longer.

The boys go to their regular school and are in the regular 3rd (Billy) and 4th (Chris) grades. Their minds are pretty normal. They each have an aide to help them with schoolwork and Billy has a nurse available to take care of his tracheotomy (a hole in his throat so he can breathe) needs. Both boys are in wheelchairs with Chris' being a power one. He loves to fly down the school hallways. They each have their own computer, but Billy needs help with his, as he can't move his arms around much. We go everywhere as a family and try to take at least one vacation a year. Even our yearly trip to San Diego is packed with Sea World or Lego Land or even Disneyland! The winter months are still the worst for us. With Billy's respiratory problems we usually plan on at least one hospital stay for him.

I'll be honest with you, taking care of the kids and their needs is a LOT of work and takes a LOT of time. It gets tiring looking at people (especially adults) rudely staring at you. It gets tiring fighting with the insurance company for basic medical supplies and needs. It gets tiring getting up 3 and 4 times a night, every night (Sue does) rearranging the kids or making sure the machine Billy uses to help him breathe isn't blocked or disconnected. It gets tiring fighting with the school district to get what normal kids get automatically. It gets tiring not having anyone to give you a break so you can see a movie with big people in it instead of the Rugrats. But you know something? We love our kids just the way they are! They're perfect to us and we wouldn't trade them for the world. When I hear people complain because their kid ripped his pants running and sliding on the grass, I want to yell at them to appreciate that they CAN run and slide on the grass! We're not jealous of non-disabled kids or anything like that. Hell, there are many advantages to having handicapped kids. One is we don't have to wait in the long lines at Disneyland!! Teachers love Billy because he doesn't sass back (he doesn't make any sounds with the trach) or get out of his seat. (Yes, we have a strange sense of humor!) It's just that parents don't always understand what they have and they need to appreciate it more. It's the little things that are important. Like when you've had to sleep over at the hospital and you look like hell the next morning, but when you ask your child do you look beautiful he smiles and say yes. It's those smiles that make everyday special. It's worth all the hard work. The Stoddard Bunch plans to be together for a long time.

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Doubleday Military Book Club

"Unheralded Victory" is an important book dealing with one of the most difficult and controversial periods in American history. It is a perspective on the Vietnam War that has almost been totally eclipsed in the cacophony of "instant history" presented on television. In Unheralded Victory, American-born Australian author, Mark Woodruff presents a clear and compelling case detailing the overall tactical victory of the allied military over the Viet Cong and the North Vietnamese Army throughout the war. Far from the commonly seen portrait of allied forces as dispirited, drug-ridden, and self-defeated, the author points to victory after victory by the allies. He shows the allied forces as well trained, well equipped, and generally well led.

From small engagements to main force battles, the author paints a picture of consistent allied victory over the forces of the North. The author acknowledges that these victories were costly and bloody for the allies, but he emphasizes they were even worse for the North Vietnamese and their allies. He also investigates the myths and popular stories that over time have grown into unchallenged fact, and finds that much of the commonly accepted folklore of the war and its aftermath has little or no basis in reality.

Unheralded Victory does not seek to rewrite history - the allied forces did leave, senior American political leadership did make mistakes. South Vietnam did collapse under the onslaught of the North Vietnamese forces after the Americans were withdrawn, but the author challenges the popular concept that the conduct and performance of the allied troops on the ground was substandard. Well-written and complete with maps, diagrams, and illustrations, Unheralded Victory is a book not to be missed by the thoughtful and serious reader.

About the author:

Mark William Woodruff was born in Omaha, Nebraska. He enlisted in the Marine Corps in July 1967, completed his Boot Camp at the Marine Corps Recruit Depot, San Diego and took Infantry and Advanced Training at Camp Pendleton. He served in Vietnam with Foxtrot Company, 2nd Battalion, 3rd Marine Regiment from December 1967 to December 1968, where he took part in Operations Scotland II, Pegasus, Ford, the Tet Offensive, and others. After his Vietnam tour he served with the 5th Marine Division at Camp Pendleton.

After leaving the Marine Corps, he graduated from Pepperdine University (Los Angeles) in 1970 with a B.A. in Psychology, receiving his M.A. in Psychology from Pepperdine in 1971. In 1973 he moved to Australia and began a career as an Educational Psychologist in Western Australia. In 1991 he began working as a psychologist with the Australian Navy. He currently holds a reserve commission with the Royal Australian Navy as a Psychology Officer. He also works with the Australian Vietnam Veterans Counseling Service in Perth. He is a member of the Australian Psychology Society, a Life Member of the 3rd Marine Division Association, and a member of the Khe Sanh Veterans Association, the 2-3-3

Vietnam Era Association, and the Marine Corps League. Previous Publications include a psychology text in 1989 and various published magazine articles on Vietnam. He lives in West Perth, Western Australia.

We hope that you will to find "Unheralded Victory" to be as valuable and important as we have, and that you will agree that it is worthy of the attention of your readers, viewers, or listeners. Please feel free to call us at (703) 538-5750 if we can be of any additional assistance.

Unheralded Victory

The Defeat of the Viet Cong and the North Vietnamese
Army, 1961--1973 by Mark W. Woodruff Foreword by
James L. Jones, General, U.S. Marine Corps
ISBN 0-918339-51-0 M, 352pp, 6x9 Hardcover
Illustrated, $24.95

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(This is Wednesday)

Hello Sir. My name is Jeff Hancock and I am in 9th grade and I want to know your opinion on Vietnam. And if you could find the time i really need this info...thank you for your time!
Jeff Hancock

P.S. i need it by fri

Jeff,

I'm really not sure what you are asking for. If you could be a little more explicit, I will try and help you out. In other words "my opinion of Vietnam" is too general in nature. Many large books have been written trying to answer this question, without much success. Try narrowing the focus of your inquiry to a more specific aspect of the war.

Thanks for your interest,
Paul Knight

Sir, Well I just wanted to know what it was like and how you were treated when you returned. I mean, were u respected, were u able to get a job, what?

ED NOTE: I was unable to get an answer off to young Jeff as his deadline had expired

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The Fight for 881 North

We left Khe Sanh for the first time in a long time. We had just given our fighting position over to the Army. I was amazed when the soldier made a statement to his team "Hey this is just a little hole in the ground." I was also amazed at seeing so many staff sergeants and sergeants in an Army platoon. My squad leader was a Corporal as were most of the others. The only sergeants we had were Staff Sergeant James, the platoon sergeant and the platoon guide I believe it was Sergeant Whitman and Sergeant Ernest a squad leader. All of these sergeants were tough, kind and knew the job. Our platoon commander, as we called all platoon leaders, was Lt. Madison a fine officer. As we were leaving to go fight in the hills an Army Huey came down and dropped off one case of C rations and left. Here we were ready to go fight and couldn't get a chopper. But a Huey (we thought all Huey's were gun ships) was hauling chow. At this point some obnoxious Army second Lt. came up to our platoon group, and we heard him say where is the "O' club? This I am sure was supposed to be some type of humor. We did not think it was funny.

The choppers came and whisked us away to hill 881 south. From this point a guy directed us to fighting positions on the opposite crest of 881 North. We were looking down a steep draw and the guide from Mike Company told us that earlier a group of Rock Apes had settled in and that they had been very active. At one point people thought that an NVA probe was coming up at them. The 81 mm FO, a staff sergeant, came by because we heard movement. The FO let Chief Rodriguez, harry Miller and I call in the 81 's. He made it seem easy. He probably had to make many corrections but he kept telling us that we did a good job. We would meet this FO again and thank God for that. We sat in for the night and split the watch. We were up before dawn and were moving our company. Lima company was going down the slope around the base to our staging area for the attack. While we were waiting to move out I saw our company command group and was impressed that the CO and the company Gunny were carrying M60 ammo. I did think it strange that they were not carrying any rifles but what does a Marine PFC machine gunner know. The commander opened the ammo can. He had dirty laundry in it. All of us had been wearing the same stinkin' rotten clothes and that bothered me.

Barry was my ammo bearer. I was the gunner and Chief Rodriguez was the team leader; the other teams were in the same shape with people being Medevaced. While we were in the staging area reports started coming back that the enemy was dug in and was going after machine gun crews. I am sure rumors were saying the same about everyone else but at a time like this you just zone in on your team. harry and Chief, who did not smoke, and I smoked a pack of cigarettes in about ten minutes. Shortly after this we formed an online company abreast, High Diddle Diddle, right up the middle. The company fixed bayonets. Some of us "Not so bright guys" dropped off our packs. The red smoke blew and away we went. We screamed obscenities at the NVA. I guess we were just tired of being pounded, pounded all of the time; just sitting.

I came upon a huge log hut above ground. I ran in shooting and screaming and ran out the same way. I have no idea if I hit someone or something. I do know that l have never liked or trusted someone from the Air Force reconnaissance imagery since they had told our commanders that there were no built-up bunkers. We went up two ridgelines and over the crest when we were ordered to halt. The CO selected 3rd platoon to go up the last knoll and secure it. This was an honor. The other platoons were more than happy not to have that honor. The CO was up front with the platoon leader. The Platoon was formed in an online assault and they charged. It was on this knoll that the NVA had decided to stand and hold. The enemy just rolled down ChiComms, the ridge was so steep. The Commander we thought went down, the Platoon sergeant and most of the leadership as well. A Private took charge and rallied the platoon, Lt. Abrams and Lt. Madison led the first and second platoons, to the aid of the third platoon. The Corpsmen were just magnificent going from wounded to wounded even as the NVA were shooting at them and the wounded. One corpsman had a rifle shot out of his hand twice but not the third time.

The 81mm FO was calling in fire that was devastating and effective. We charged up the slope and joined the remainder of the platoon. On the ridgeline crest, Lt's. Abrams and Madison prepared us for our counter attack. Lt. Madison had me lay suppressive fire at a position at another hill across the gully. During this time we consolidated the positions, passed ammo and cared for the wounded. The platoon leader of the third platoon came up from the last crest and said no one but third platoon was to get survivors. At that time, I did understand why he said it. He stabbed a very dead NVA who I was using as a shield. The NVA soldier had been killed by a very well placed M79 or mortar that took off the crown of his head. The next thing I see is the Battalion Commander Lt. Col. Studt, who had been in the middle of the heaviest fighting and had seen the actions of all of Lima company. Lt. Col. Studt made a believer out of me that day. He said something to the CO and the third platoon leader and they left with him. I don't recall ever seeing them again. Lt. Abrams and Madison got with the NCO's including our squad leader Nick Dunbar, a very good marine.

We sent people to get the packs we left at the beginning. Well, God bless the NVA they stole our packs. The joke is that all we had was mostly C-rations in the packs. They probably had more personal effects than we did. The FO had just finished the medivac when he flopped down in exhaustion on a blown up bamboo stick and it went right up, you know where. He then called in his last medevac of the day and swore above the roar of the chopper that he would be back. We were then ordered to saddle up and hump back to 881 North for the night

I write this as best as my memory can recall, after all these years. As I look back over the years there will be more Fire Fights and God knows many more operations and bad times that I will remember. I was with the finest that day. To all my old friends, Col. Radcliff, V.D. ltchy brother, Price, Dan, Bill, Hughes, AI and all the rest.

Respectfully submitted,
William P. Aiello
2nd Gun Team 2nd Squad 2nd Platoon Lima Company 3rd Battalion 26th Marines

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Dear Editor;

RE: Red (Red Clay #44, Radio Call Signs at Khe Sanh

I was one of the Air Force Combat Control Team members at Khe Sanh in February and March of '68. We were using the call sign "Tailpipe Mike."

The Combat Control Teams traveled all over Vietnam, and some of us pulled duty in Laos and other places. I spent six months in Laos. Needless to say, we never did control any combat. Like many other military unit names, ours came from on high and God only knows why we had it.

What we did at Khe Sanh, was provide Air Force aircraft with control and guidance into and out of sticky tactical situations. We operated the Drop Zone at Khe Sanh. We kept a station operating beside the runway, sandbagged in front of the Charlie Med tent, to provide air traffic control when a Marine unit was in operation, to provide flight following and other info as required by our control center in Tan Son Nhut. When we couldn't secure a FAG, we called air strikes.

"Tailpipe Mike7' remained at Khe Sanh until early May, and then the call sign was retired for a while. The call sign stayed there even though the team members rotated in and out from time to time.

Thanks for putting out a fine journal, I hope you can add our name to your list of call signs.

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Dear Editor,

I wanted to write and tell you very how much I enjoyed reading and appreciated receiving the Summer; 1999 issue of Red Clay.

I thought THE BAIG LETTER, Page 29 was just extraordinary!

For Years, General Giap has been made a legendary military strategist, war hero and the darling of the liberal/leftist American media. The Baig Letter reverses that myth and our Khe Sanh boys and the other American support services can take credit for sending Giap into early retirement. What a revelation! Great stuff Ray!

I know you won't publish the following opinion unless insisted upon, but this issue, its glossy paper stock, content of articles etc. was very professionally done and l want to personally thank you for the time and effort that went into it. Great job and thanks Ray.

I look forward to receiving every issue of Red Clay.

Sincerely,

Viet Nam War Correspondent, 1965-66 and provider of the Khe Sanh Siege Playboy Magazines Malibu, California

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Dear Ernie,

I enjoyed your piece about having a beer in the "Officers" Club! I wish I had a copy of Buck Owens and his Bakersfield Boys music, which I first heard in our so called club!

Jim Wilkinson
CO 1/26

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