196th Infantry Color Guard from Ft Shafter, Hawaii
COL Pritchard and Principal Staff of the 196th Infantry
Linda's presentation:
It
is a great honor for me to be here this evening and address members of the 196th
and your wives, partners and families.
I
have the privilege of standing at this speaker’s podium for one reason—and that
reason is my husband, John Seebeth. When I married John over a decade ago, in
many ways, I married Vietnam.
I wrote
a book about John’s experience. It’s entitled AN INTRODUCTION TO WAR. The book
tells John’s story, and through writing it, it was also an introduction to war
for me. Before beginning to write, I read dozens of books about Vietnam and
about war in general. John made sure that I watched every war movie in his
collection—sometimes more than once.
I
read declassified Army documents, such as Aircraft Accident and Combat After
Action Reports. I read medical reports, personal letters and the diary of a
company dentist. Throughout the years of research and writing, I met and
interviewed many veterans—doctors and medics, crew chiefs and pilots, and
members of the 196th infantry who supplied crucial details.
Thank
you Richard Mosher and John Lysinger—and Doc Kralich—who is no longer with us,
but his input was invaluable. Getting to know some of John’s “brothers” not
only provided me with information, but I became acquainted with some wonderful
people who contributed to my own introduction to war.
I
know the Vietnam War was different for every person, depending on the year you
were there, where you were stationed and what you did. So what I share are
John’s personal experiences, his unique slice of history.
Back
in 1966, John was 18 years old and filled with the idealism of youth. He graduated
from high school outside Philadelphia, enlisted in the Army and became a medic.
After being stationed in Baumholder, Germany for a year, his ambulance company
was sent stateside to Fort Polk in Louisiana. Of course, John had heard about
Vietnam—a big sign outside the entrance to Fort Polk read: Welcome to Fort
Polk—Birthplace of Combat Infantrymen for Viet Nam.
So,
John knew Vietnam was happening, but he didn’t know much about it. He did know
that he wasn’t content with his present assignment. He was bored trying to look
busy on the motorpool line where there were few calls for any of the 50 ambulances.
Day after day after day, he checked the dipstick and tire pressure. If the
slightest trace of battery acid erosion was found during weekly inspections, or
if a vehicle's tire pressure was determined to be under or over inflated, a
weekend pass would be taken away—an unthinkable thing to do to a guy for a
little too much air.
No,
John didn’t want to be an ambulance polisher for the remainder of his service,
so he volunteered for Vietnam. John transferred from the 565th, his
ground ambulance company to the 236th Medical Detachment Helicopter
Ambulance. And after three months of advanced training, John was sent to
Vietnam to perform the job of flight medic, flying aboard unarmed helicopter
ambulances.
Many
of you combat veterans are well acquainted with the helicopter ambulances known
as Dustoff. You may have even been rescued by one. Dustoff became the radio
call sign for the Army’s medevacs because of the cloud of dirt kicked up during
takeoffs and landings. It’s a name still given to medevac crews.
I
learned that the Army began using helicopters to evacuate the wounded in Korea,
but aeromedical evacuation became a highly organized, crucial operation in
Vietnam. One man in particular, Major Charles Kelly, is credited for getting
the Army to designate choppers to the sole purpose of picking up the wounded.
Before that, the wounded had to wait for a chopper that might be delivering
supplies or providing general support tasks. It helped boost troop morale to know
that if one of their own got wounded, a Dustoff ambulance would be there within
minutes.
Major
Charles Kelly was nicknamed “Mad Man” and “Crazy Kelly” for his willingness to
fly into danger to rescue the wounded. He was a legend in his time and left an
almost mythical legacy of flying into impossible situations. In 1964, Major
Kelly was KIA during a rescue mission. The grunts told him to turn back because
enemy fire had increased and conditions were too dangerous. But in Kelly’s no
compromise, no hesitation style, he told them, “when I have your wounded.” Major
Kelly set a high standard for Dustoff’s courage and bravery.
John
Seebeth was honored to join this Dustoff legacy—Americans risking their own
lives to save others. Some of the very best our national character has to
offer.
John’s
unit arrived in Vietnam in November 1968—right on Thanksgiving Day. He was 20 years
old. When the C-141 Starlifter landed in Da Nang, John didn’t know that it was
the busiest airport in the world. In 1968, it had more landings and takeoffs
than Chicago’s O’Hare.
Vietnam
is a narrow, s-shaped country—about 1,000 miles long. During the war, the
middle of the “s” was the DMZ—or demilitarized zone—the area that divided North
Vietnam from South Vietnam.
And
the US military divided South Vietnam into four regions or corps tactical
zones. The 196th operated in all areas of Vietnam, so depending
where you served, you experienced different landscapes.
For
instance, the Mekong Delta was in the southernmost region, IV-Corps. The
Michelin rubber plantation was in III-Corps.
The
northernmost zone (bordering North Vietnam) was known as I-Corps. There,
towering mountains abruptly protrude from the flat coastal plain of the South
China Sea.
I-corps
was the area of operation for John’ s unit—the 236th Medical
Detachment. They were stationed at Red Beach—about 6 miles north of Da Nang. Their
5 UH-1H Bell Hueys were tucked into a small corner of the huge aviation
installation called “The Paddock”.
As
we know, the Huey is the legendary machine of the Vietnam War. It was only this
year—January 2011—that the Army officially retired the Huey.
In
Vietnam, the Huey served as a troop transport and air assault platform. And, of
course, was well known for its role as a medevac chopper.
Dustoff
pilots earned a reputation as the “cowboys of aviation” for their willingness
to fly whenever, wherever, and however if somebody needed help. In the spirit
of Major Charles Kelly, they flew day or night, rain or shine, and often under
fire without a gunship escort. It was a dangerous job, and Dustoff had the
highest casualty rate of any other aviation group in Vietnam—they lost a third
of their crews.
Dustoff
crews consisted of a pilot, co-pilot, crew chief and medic. At the Paddock,
John’s unit always had a chopper and 4-man crew on duty and a chopper and crew on
standby. Their call sign was Da Nang Dustoff.
In
addition to the two on duty choppers and crews at Red Beach, John’s unit also
maintained a Huey and crew at LZ Baldy—about 20 miles southwest of Da Nang, and
28 miles NW of Chu Lai. When flying rescue missions out of Baldy, their call
sign was Charger Dustoff because they were there for members of the 196th
who were humping the triple canopy jungles, the steep peaks and deep ravines of
remote areas of I-Corps.
Out
of the 500,000 US troops serving in Vietnam in 1968, 80,000 were actually
involved in combat operations that year—and the Chargers were among those
80,000. The 196th—no doubt using American ingenuity— had originally
scrounged up a couple of helicopters to evacuate their wounded, but with the
arrival of the 236th, LZ Baldy housed a permanent Dustoff crew. Generally,
a Dustoff crew spent 4 days at Baldy and were then replaced by a fresh crew and
chopper.
I should
clarify that in Vietnam War lingo, “LZ” means “Landing Zone.” An LZ could be a
small area carved out of the jungle just wide enough for a Huey to touch down. A
“hot LZ” meant the area was taking enemy fire.
LZ
also referred to a firebase or fire support base. The US military command
pioneered the idea of firebases as a war tactic, and the landscape of South
Vietnam was dotted with innumerable fire support bases. The firebases in the
mountainous region near Da Nang were commonly located on high elevation vantage
points, approximately four miles apart. The summits—about 1,500 feet high—were cleared
by blasts, bulldozers and a defoliant such as Agent Orange. Troops and supplies
were then transported in—sometimes only accessible by helicopters. Howitzers
and large caliber guns were positioned to achieve interlocking fields of fire
with neighboring firebases.
A
firebase could be operational for hours, days, seasonally—or in the case of LZ
Baldy—for years. Firebases were sometimes named for their physical
characteristics, or after officers or fallen heroes, or wives or girlfriends, or
for reasons unknown to the current occupants. Firebases could be renamed several
times in their lifespan. And sometimes, a firebase was moved to a new location
but retained its same name.
Firebases
allowed US command to employ its mobile helicopter troops and use the strategy known
as “search and destroy.” Patrols would maneuver from the bases searching for the
enemy and caches of weapons and rice. When contact was made, soldiers would
call in artillery and air support, and if needed, more infantry could quickly
be airlifted via helicopters to surround and annihilate the enemy force.
In
theory, the strategists believed that creating a wall of firebases would allow
the lowlands to be monitored and supply lines stanched, driving out the enemy.
In reality, lush jungles covered with triple canopy growth of teak, mahogany
and other tropical hardwoods, along with rushing rivers and deep gorges,
provided plenty of natural hideouts for the toughest and largest enemy force in
the area—the 2d NVA Division—the North Vietnamese Army’s 7,000 well-trained and
well-equipped battle-hardened soldiers.
When
John was there in 1969, LZ Baldy—also known as Hill 63—was a large, stationary
firebase that served as a resupply point for the 196th. Other nearby firebases, such as LZ
Center, LZ West, LZ Ross and LZ Siberia were not much more than underground
bunkers and razor wire. But Baldy had evolved to GP medium tents and plywood
buildings with corrugated steel roofs.
LZ Baldy included an aid station, which was attended by Company C of the
23rd Medical Battalion, Americal Division in direct support of the 196th Light
Infantry Brigade.
A
senior medic there, SFC Gary Weaver, contributed so much to our book—that at
his request, we included him in the story. Gary has a website with pictures of
Baldy and the company. The web address is: lzbaldymedic.com.
In
the I-Corps region, between the firebases, and high mountain ridges, there was
a large basin that formed a natural corridor weaving around hills and peaks.
The basin provided lowland passageways from the Annamite Mountain Range that straddles
into Laos, to the coast of the South China Sea. Portions of the large basin
were known by different names, such as: Song Chang Valley, Hiep Duc Valley,
Antenna Valley, Death Valley, Dragon Valley, Que Son Valley, AK Valley, Phuoc
Valley, the Rice Bowl, Nui Chom and Nui Loc Son Basin.
This
area was an important artery of the road network known as the Ho Chi Minh
Trail, and it posed unique problems for the US military command. The forbidding
landscape favored the enemy and made it difficult to shove the North Vietnamese
Army out of their mountain redoubts. As much as land could provide protection
from B-52 bombings, the hidden ravines, vertical ridges and rock gorges offered
as much protection as landscape could possibly offer and allowed the NVA to
remain entrenched in this vital region. I-Corps remained a stronghold of the
NVA and a hotbed of guerilla resistance throughout the entire Vietnam War.
Over
the years, soldiers and Marines swept the valleys and succeeded in pushing the
enemy back, often only to have him regroup and resurface later.
John,
like most boots on the ground forces, did not have knowledge of the overall
battle strategies dictating his endeavors. As a matter of fact, John didn’t
know if his patients were Gimlets or Polar Bears.
Sometimes
he couldn’t tell if a shirtless patient covered with red dirt was Americal or
1st Division Marine. He just knew they were Americans in need, and that’s all
that mattered to him.
Dustoff
contributed to the success of medical care in Vietnam. When a soldier was wounded
in the jungle, a combat field medic would administer initial care. A radio call
to Dustoff was made to evacuate the seriously wounded. Sometimes the wounded had
to be carried to a clearing where the Dustoff chopper could touch down.
In
the cargo bay, the Dustoff medic would administer further care, such as
starting an IV, to help keep the wounded alive during the 20 minutes to Baldy.
When
the wounded arrived at the aid station, they were met with a team of doctors
and medics. Some patients—like those suffering heatstroke—would be treated and
remain at Baldy’s aid station until returned to duty.
Seriously
wounded would be stabilized and then transported to the 95th
Evacuation Hospital by a Dustoff chopper.
The
TV series China Beach was inspired by the 95th Evacuation Hospital
and its location on the sandy shores of Red Beach. At the real 95th, every
doctor was a specialist, including chest, oral and orthopedic surgeons,
dermatologists and ENTs.
Dustoff
flew neurological injuries to a fully equipped hospital ship anchored in the Gulf
of Tonkin, such as the USS Sanctuary.
And
in addition to wounded soldiers, 236th Dustoff sometimes rescued
Marines and transported them to the Navy Hospital in Da Nang.
Dustoff
also picked up wounded soldiers of the South Vietnamese Army or ARVNs and
wounded South Vietnamese civilians. Civilians and ARVNS were delivered to the
South Vietnamese Provincial Hospital in Da Nang.
However,
Vietnamese children were taken to the 95th Evacuation Hospital for
state of the art care.
Dustoff
occasionally picked up wounded dogs from the K-9 units. The dogs were given the
same priority as other US soldiers and taken to the 95th.
Dustoff
also flew routine missions, hill hopping from one firebase to another to pick
up soldiers who were on sick call or needed dental or eye care.
And
Dustoff regularly flew other routine missions, such as ferrying patients from
the 95th to the Da Nang Air Base where those critically wounded
patients would be leaving Vietnam.
From
the frontline medics and Dustoff crews, to the staffs of the rear area
hospitals and hospital ships, the medical personnel in Vietnam offered
outstanding emergency care. Of the Americans wounded in Vietnam who reached
medical facilities, 97.5% of them survived.
John
had performed the job of flight medic for 9 months until, in August 1969, he himself
was seriously wounded. It was the 3rd day of his 4-day rotation at
LZ Baldy. The Dustoff crew had been extremely busy. John didn’t know what was happening,
but there were high numbers of wounded needing evacuation, keeping Dustoff busy
day and night. In just 2 ½ days, John’s crew had flown 42 missions and evacuated
150 wounded Americans from the Que Son Valley.
In
actuality, it was the Summer Offensive of 1969. By the end of that two-week
battle, approximately 100 Americans were killed and 400 wounded. NVA losses
were ten times greater. The Summer Offensive of 1969 is documented in the book,
Death Valley by Keith Nolan. And I’m
sure many of you have seen the TV series Tour
of Duty, which may not depict this battle, but provides a view into the
life of the 196th in I-Corps.
So,
on August 21, 1969 Dustoff corkscrewed and zigzagged into a hot LZ without a
gunship escort to pick up a seriously wounded soldier.
It
was the 15th insecure mission they had flown in 2 ½ days.
When
the bird touched down, a round from an AK-47 pierced through the Huey’s side
window and ricocheted off the top edge of John’s body armor. A fraction of an
inch lower, and he might have just had a bad bruise. A fraction of an inch
higher and he probably wouldn’t be here today. As it happened, the front of
John’s throat and neck were blown out.
There
was chaos inside the cabin as the 21 year old aircraft commander pushed the
shot-up Huey back to Baldy at maximum speed. All of the helicopter’s radios had
been knocked out except one, so the co-pilot was busy trying to find a channel
to alert the team at the aid station.
The
pilot brought the chopper into Baldy’s helipad hot and fast, landing sideways
in a maneuver he had only read about. When he turned off the engine, the
helicopter’s rotor blades completely collapsed. They were so riddled with
holes, they had only been held up by centrifugal force.
John
doesn’t recall but I’ve spoken to the doctors who saved him. He had to be
brought back to life twice by a defibrillator—once
in the cargo bay on the way to the 95th, and once while in surgery at
the 95th.
To
fast forward, John was hospitalized for almost two years at Walson Army Hopital
at Fort Dix, New Jersey and had more than a dozen surgeries.He
couldn’t speak for 16 months—and that was tough for a talkative guy. Especially
after being in Vietnam, he had a lot to say. But John couldn’t talk until his
Army surgeon, Dr. Major Bell, built a larynx from a patch of skin from John’s
thigh. John had to learn to speak and breathe from a Montgomery T-tube inserted
into the hole in his neck.
At
first he hated the sound of his voice and was self-conscious of the silicone tube
that stuck out of his neck like Pinocchio’s nose. Needless to say, the years of
recovery were long and challenging.
In
addition to the physical healing, John had emotional healing to do. Toward that
end, he left his apartment in Columbus, Ohio one day (where he was attending
college) and all by himself, took off on his bicycle and headed for Alaska.
Our
book, An Introduction to War ends in
1978 with that first 3,000-mile journey, and John sorting out some things in
his head. We are now working on the sequel, An
Introduction to Peace. It begins when John and I meet. I will share my
perspective of loving—and living with a combat vet. And how we seek to find
peace in our own hearts.
The
book will also tell more of John’s story—his work over the years, and how he
took more long-distance bicycle treks. He also challenged himself physically by
becoming a marathon runner and he even kayaked 300 rugged miles of the Alaskan
portion of the Inside Passage. That brave, can-do Dustoff courage never left
him.
Some
people have asked me why John can’t forget Vietnam and just move on. I remind
them that John can’t look into the mirror without seeing Vietnam.
While
treating the wounded, John experienced things and saw sights in the chopper’s
cargo bay that no one would ever want to see or experience—and no one could
easily forget.
Those
memories are etched deep inside him. I have learned that war does not always end
when the warrior comes home.
John
says it’s fitting that he breathes and speaks from his wound today. It is
testimony to the many lives that couldn’t be saved—and should not be forgotten.
The
caring spirit of Dustoff continues to live in John today. I say that he is now
a medic for all humanity because he continues striving to make the world a
better place. And I believe the world is a better place because John Seebeth
survived.
John
no longer uses the Montgomery T-tube to speak. It’s not as easy for him to talk these days—it takes a lot
of energy.
Now,
it is my great honor and pleasure to introduce to you, my husband, Specialist
5, John Neil Seebeth III.
John's words:
I’m
very glad to be here tonight.
It’s
been a long journey for many of us over the past 40-plus years, but here we
are.
Back
in Vietnam, in the cargo bay of the Huey, it’s true that I saw and experienced
things that are impossible to forget.
Some
things I’d like to forget,
but
some things are worth remembering.
Brotherly
Love is one.
There
were times when the wounded in the cargo bay were also buddies. Some were
wounded very seriously—some not so much.
The
interaction between friends—the grief—
the
emotional distress—it was humbling for me to witness.
If
war can give us anything—the experience of Brotherly Love is a powerful gift.
It’s
wonderful to be here tonight because I again feel that deep Brotherly Love at
this Reunion of the 196th.
Warren Neill (President) and John
John received the top coin from COL Pritchard. It is COL Pritchard's personal Commander’s Coin given only to special persons in recognition of a specific act, exceptional performance or outstanding service to the 196th. The coins are few and far between and not available for purchase. John accepted it with great appreciation and honor.
The silver coins are Challenge Coins. John and Linda each received one from President Warren Neill after our presentations. THANK YOU! We are honored.
