Letters

HOLDING BACK TEARS

I doubt that I have ever seen any picture as heart-breaking as the one on the cover of the July/August issue. I could not hold back the tears.

My son served in Iraq, and I often wondered how I would cope if he were killed. I’m sure my parents went through a similar experience when I was in Vietnam (1969-70). Will wars never end?

William Elgee
Portland, Maine

FOREVER IN MY HEART

I was there when the U.S.S Frank E. Evans and the H.M.A.S. Melbourne collided. I was a fireman aboard the U.S.S. Alamo (LSD 33). I, too, had just come aboard in May 1969. My ship, along with the U.S.S. Valley Forge, U.S.S. Denver, U.S.S. Paul Revere, and U.S.S. Kawishiwi (our oiler ship) were part of an Amphibious Ready Group outside Da Nang. The scuttlebutt came down from the bridge about the disaster very quickly; the whole ship knew what had happened.

We were in a group of ships, so we thought it could not happen to us. We heard it happened about 4:30 in the morning in a dense fog, which caused the collision. The fleet tugs towed a huge floating dry dock from Subic Bay and sank it down enough to float the stern section of the Evans into it, refloated the dry dock, and towed back to Subic Bay. It was there an awful long time.

In the meantime, I got my Crow and was a BT3. They let NCOs walk the catwalk on the dry dock and see the aft section that stayed afloat. It was a terrible sight. Main steam lines were hanging out.

All the guys in the after-engine and fire rooms made it out okay. The engineering berthing compartments are always in the after-section of a naval ship, which is why they survived. But the forward spaces went down. Because it was so early in the morning, all the sailors, officers, chiefs, boatswain’s yeomen supply guys, and gunners mates in the forward section went down with the ship in three minutes. All were asleep and did not know what had happened.

Much later, the Navy towed the stern out to sea and let new frigate destroyers sink it. I will never forget what I saw that day up on that catwalk. I ended up doing four WESTPAC deployments to Vietnam and was regular Navy, 1968-71. Those poor guys will live forever in my heart.

Michael Thompson
By Email

SOME SOLACE

I was pleased to see coverage of the loss of the U.S.S. Frank E. Evans in The VVA Veteran. I was in Navy flight training in June of 1969. We discussed the accident as soon as we had information about it.

The families of the fallen sailors have been trying for years to have these veterans’ names added to The Wall. On March 30, 2015, the state of California added the names of those lost on the Evans to the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Sacramento. 

My Scottish-American Military Society, Post 1921, was honored to provide the color guard, bagpiper, and singer for the ceremony as part of the annual Welcome Home Vietnam Veterans event.

After the ceremony, I told one victim’s family that this accident, caused by the error of a junior officer, reminded many of us junior officers that maybe we’re not as good as we might think and maybe we needed to recommit to our training and double-check situational awareness when flying or directing other units. Perhaps these families can take some solace in that.

Fran McVey
San Jose, California

SAME OLD GAME

Capping a great run of recent articles in The VVA Veteran (the Agent Blue articles for example), “The Continuing Tragedy of the U.S.S. Frank E. Evans” by Louise Esola really brought up some old acid reflux. So, the Navy was playing games with the Evans’ status; first they’re on the firing line, then they’re off, then they’re on training but “close enough to the line to be called back if needed.”

It struck a chord with me because this was the same game the Army and DOD played with veterans of the 2nd Infantry Division along Korea’s DMZ when I was there in 1974-75. We were on “training missions”—with live ammo sweeping through hill and dale after every alert. 

Bravo to California for including the names of its “Lost 74” on their Vietnam Veterans Memorial. I tried several websites without success to see if there were any Rhode Islanders among those lost with the Evans. Maybe someone can help me out there. I’d like to see my state do the same if there are any.

The Air Force personnel who went down on the Knife-13 crash while en route to the staging area in Thailand during the Mayaguez Incident have the honor of being inscribed on The Wall in Washington, D.C. I believe, after reading this great but sad article, the Lost 74 of the U.S.S. Frank E. Evans deserve the same.

Brian Carn
Greater Providence, Rhode Island

ACCURATE HISTORY

I read the story on the U.S.S. Frank E. Evans in your July/August issue. I have nothing to say about the story of the Evans itself. But Louise Esola referred to the battle for Hill 937, Hamburger Hill.

She states: “The Viet Cong had just taken their positions on a place called Hamburger Hill.” The troops were not VC, but members of the 29th North Vietnam Army Regiment, “The Pride of Ho Chi Minh.”

She goes on to say: “Although seventy-two Americans had been killed securing the area, the hill was abandoned days later.” This perpetuates one of the enduring—and mistaken—myths that the 101st Airborne Division’s objective was Hill 937, and that leaving it after the battle was an exercise in futility.

We had no interest in the hill beyond the fact that this is where we could engage and kill the most NVA soldiers.

Frank Boccia
New Bern, North Carolina

BAKER ACTED

I was amazed to read Mr. Bianconi’s letter in the last issue. He wrote: “I might sound bitter, but I feel the government will be happy when we are all laid to rest.” This is almost a verbatim quote I made last August to my shrink at the VA clinic in Cape Coral, Florida, when he asked me what I was feeling at the moment.

Within ten minutes, I was in the back seat of a patrol car on my way to a mental health facility. My great and trusted VA psychiatrist had “Baker Acted” me as a possible threat to myself or to other people at the VA. I spent five days observing the other patients and eating alone, since I was not permitted to eat with others because I was a “Baker Act” patient.  

Each day one or two patients were taken to the next floor for electrotherapy. They came back as docile as kittens. This has replaced the prefrontal lobotomy. It took me five days to get out. The only way I could do that was to promise the doctor in charge that I would stop going to the VA and give my Blue Cross business to his office. Then he released me.

I did three tours in Vietnam as a Navy officer, the last in 1969 as officer in charge of Harbor Clearance Unit One at Vung Tau. I had 250 divers and six officers working for me, and commanded the largest lift craft in the world. I lost people. My biggest regret is that I did not put more of them in for the medals that they deserved. They were all doing jobs above and beyond. I only wish the dead were here today and I could replace them.

What did I end up with? When I got back to Columbus, Ohio, and applied for a job, an HR director told me I had wasted four years of my life. I walked out.

I now have stents in my heart, diabetes, and a leg wound that will not heal. I cannot walk more than a few feet, and I sleep in a chair with my boot knife and the lights on. I have a daughter who has kidney problems and is bipolar, but basically a good kid. And a local VA that locks me up for stating my opinion.

PTSD? Damn straight, and that is never going away as long as the government treats veterans of all wars the way they do. Mr. Bianconi: I have your back, sir.

Richard L. Repasky
Cape Coral, Florida

THE PIN CODE

In the latest issue of The VVA Veteran I read with great interest and some dismay Marc Leepson’s article, “Patriotism, the Flag Code, and the Flag Lapel Pin.”

I have read The Flag Code more than once. Although I do not claim to be an expert on its content or meaning, I do have a good understanding of it. The Flag Code may, at times, leave some room for interpretation as do most documents that frame our country’s very existence, but I find it to be pretty precise in most instances. Leepson, however, would have us believe that the U.S. Flag Code supports his position on the display of the lapel flag pin.

I would like to present the full text and let each person decide. Here’s The Flag Code, Title 4, United States Code, Chapter 1, Section 8 (j):

“No part of the flag should ever be used as a costume or athletic uniform. However, a flag patch may be affixed to the uniform of military personnel, firemen, policemen, and members of patriotic organizations. The flag represents a living country and is itself considered a living thing. Therefore, the lapel flag pin being a replica, should be worn on the left lapel near the heart.”

It seems pretty clear and straightforward as presented. There isn’t a need for “flag police” if people would just use their common sense when using the flag or replicas. It comes down to doing the right thing.

Bill Haase
By Email

DISPLAYING PATRIOTISM

“Leary and dubious” are thoughts in my mind whenever a flag lapel pin is worn by some official, politician, candidate, personality, or anyone who may desire to display his or her “patriotism.” The individual may have true devotion to our country, but there is always a thought.

It would be preferable if the person wore a civilian or military award, ribbon, or medal received for performance of his or her duties and responsibilities. This indicates an achievement level.

At semiformal and formal events, the CIB, the Ranger Tab, and the Parachute Badge are my lapel pins. For those who know, these provide great conversations; for those who do not know, they provide a teaching moment.

Manuel G. Trevino
San Antonio, Texas

DYING YOUNG

Your report—“Death in a Cohort”— on Vietnam veterans dying too soon was spot on. Like many others, I kept looking at the ages of my fellow Vietnam vets at their passing and thought, “We sure are dying young.” As the last few years went by, the average age did seem to be increasing. Your report really cleared it up. I have to take exception with one thing: excluding those two VVA members born in 1918 and 1922. They very likely were Vietnam vets. My dad was born in 1920 and was a World War II, Korea, and Vietnam veteran (1962). He was set to go for a second deployment to Vietnam in 1966, but decided to retire instead, saying, “My son is over there now; they don’t need two of us.”   

Jim Ray
Palestine, Texas