You Have to Live it to Understand It

By John Bruce



July 1968:  I received my draft notice to be inducted into the Armed Forces.  The letter reads, “Greetings, you will be inducted into the United States Armed Forces.  You will report on Thursday 15 August 1968.  Time to report 0600 hrs at the (Military Entrance Processing Station), better known as MEPS, South Broadway, Kansas City, MO.



I reported as I was instructed, as were so many of us who had received their draft notice also.  We were directed to an area for physicals.  Once that process was done, around noon, they fed us lunch.  After that we were loaded onto Continental Trailways buses.  Our destination was Fort Leonard Wood, MO.



The trip lasted about five and a half hours.  That was the longest bus ride I had ever been on.  We arrived around 0100 hrs, Friday morning.  Fort Leonard Wood was better known as Little Korea because it gets really cold there.  I was glad that it was summertime when we arrived.  Some of us slept on the bus while others talked about being away from home.



We got off the bus and were met by sergeants wearing Park Ranger hats, like Smokey the Bear.  They were called Drill Sergeants.  They looked really mean as we got off the bus.  The Drill Sergeants barked out orders at us and called us all kinds of name I had never heard before.  We were marched to the barracks.



The first week was called Zero Week because all we did was paperwork (life insurance, next of kin, spouse if you had one, haircuts, uniforms and boots.)



Basic training started the following week.  Sixteen weeks of solid training Weapons training, physical training, hand-to-hand combat, map reading.  Once you passed all of these qualifications, you graduated.



Immediately after graduation, we were given orders to report for Advanced Individual Training, better known as AIT.  There were many different schools, such as Infantry, Artillery, Cook, Map reading and many others.  I was ordered to Fort Sill, OK to Artillery school for eight weeks of training.  I will be training on a 105 howitzer. (cannon)  The howitzer had a range of seven miles and there were seven powder bags, or charges mainly called by artillerymen.  This weapon shoots different types of rounds: HE was high explosives, BeeHive contained darts and nails, Firecracker had little grenades that exploded on contact, White Phosphorous (or willey peter as it was known to the artillerymen)  it was a very dangerous chemical that burns through the skin, only to be smothered to death.  The last type of round was an Illumination round which would light up the area, allowing troops to have better vision at night.



We train both day and night, for many hours to become proficient with our weapon because our mission was to be shipped to southeast Asia (Vietnam).



I had heard about Vietnam while attending Olathe Senior High, in Olathe, Kansas, a small community.  The local news stations gave an update on the war every day.  I wasn’t interested in following it because I had no idea where Vietnam was.  That was 1966.  Little did I know that two years later I would be in Vietnam, fighting a war that I knew nothing about.



Once I graduated from AIT I was given a 30 day leave to visit family.  While there I married my childhood sweetheart on January 4, 1968.  Shortly thereafter I received my orders to report to San Francisco where there was a holding area for troops going to Vietnam.  We were only there for a week, to get jungle fatigues, etc before shipping out.



Once our processing was over we were bussed to Travis Air Base, where we boarded our flight for Vietnam. It was a long flight, lasting about 20 hours.  We landed in country in January 1969.   We were then taken by truck to a training facility for a week.  It involved live ammo and we were each issued a M-16 Automatic Assault Rifle.  I had never seen one before as we trained on M-14s in basic training.



We were then assigned to our units, I was assigned to the 3rd Brigade, 82nd Airborne Division 2nd/321st Field Artillery.  They had three batteries and I was assigned to B Battery, gun number four or Section 4.  Each battery had six guns and each gun had a name.  Ours was Boa Constrictor.  My first job was to load the shells in the breech before firing.  After two months went by the assistant gunner rotated back to the world (United States).  I then became the assistant gunner.



A Section is made up of a Section Chief, Gunner, Assistant Gunner, Loader and Ammo bearers.  The Section Chief will receive orders to fire from the FCC (Fire Control Center), then give the direction to the gunner.  He would also give the distance and elevation to the assistant gunner, that was my job.  I would be the one who pulled the lanyard to fire after the command is given.



My first fire mission:  the Infantry that we supported got into a heated battle with the Vietcong Guerillas (farmers by day, fighters by night).  A CH-47 helicopter flew right into our fire mission.  We were unable to check fire in time and the bird was hit by at least three guns.  It happened so fast, we didn’t know which ones.  There was a great ball of fire and debris was scattered over a four mile radius.  There were at least 20 soldiers on the downed helicopter and to this day I feel that I had a part in their dying.  I will never forget what I saw that horrible night.



My next mission was a few weeks later when our infantry ran into a regiment of Vietcong and NVA (North Vietnam Regulars).  They were overrun and our battery was on the top of a hill where we could see the firefight.  The other batteries had also been called in and we could see the tracers from small arms fire.



There was Spooky, a Douglas AC-47 plane that carried mini-guns or gatling guns.  It was also shooting tracers.  The Bell AH UH-1, better known as the Cobra was shooting rocket launchers, mini-guns.  All hell broke loose, we were firing, they were firing!  This battle lasted more than 20 hours.  There was screaming from both sides, hollering from soldiers, it was horrible.  Our guns were so hot from continuous firing that we had to pour water down the tubes or they would not operate properly and could injure the crew.  The temperature of the weapons exceeded 114 degrees.



Artillerymen are like today’s firemen, when a mission comes down, you have to be ready no matter what you are wearing.  That night all I was wearing was my underwear.  The mission lasted into the next day and when the cease fire was given my body was soaked in sweat and I must have lost eight pounds.  Some of the wounded were brought to our medical staff, some could not be saved.  I thought to myself, ‘what am I doing here and why?’



I never thought that I’d be in a combat situation, seeing soldiers get killed or burned alive.  I couldn’t take it anymore and wanted to go home.  I was scared to death and wondered when it would be my turn.



Things slowed down for a few weeks and one day I was in my bunk, located underground, when I heard a loud explosion.  My Section Chief came in and said they needed volunteers. A pilot had been shot down and crashed into a village.  We needed to get to him.  I jumped up, grabbed my M79 and we hopped on trucks and headed to the crash site.  Once there we secured the area.  The infantry was called in and they swept the area for the pilot.  We found him alive and then tried to clean up the village as best we could.



There were dead bodies everywhere.  Adults, children, babies, many burned beyond recognition.  The jet fuel and smell of burned flesh caused some of us to throw up.  It was horrible, indescribable, you have to live it to understand it.



I guess this is what war is all about, death and destruction.



We later received orders to move farther north.  We set up our location near a river that was one of the nastiest, dirtiest, filthiest rivers I’d ever seen.  We set up bunkers, mess hall, guns, claymores, mines and Fire Control Center.  We also had our howitzer.  It took all day to set up.



I remember one day a Navy boat was coming up the river.  They were patrolling the river and stopped to talk with us as we had some ‘down time.’  They offered some of us a ride so we got on, but without weapons.  That was a ‘no no.’  As we went up the river we began to take on small arms fire from both banks.  I could hear bullets whizzing past my head, boy was I scared.  We escaped unharmed, but I was glad to get back to my location.



October 8, 1969, our final battle:  I will never forget this date for as long as I live.  My first child (daughter) was born on this date.  We were hit with mortar, falling all around us.  Our mess hall was destroyed and several vehicles were damaged.  Once again, we were caught off guard.  We ran to our duty stations, but I was hit with a piece of shrapnel in my knee.  My sergeant tried to get me some medical attention, but I refused it, thinking it was a minor injury.  This skirmish lasted about two-three hours.  During this firefight my lieutenant came running over to me and when he finally reached me he stood up and said, “Corporal Bruce, you are the father of a 6 pound 7 ounce baby girl.  The fact that he ran through the bullets to tell me was shocking.  But I couldn’t react as I had a job to do an needed to focus as lives were at stake, especially my Section.  I did not want to be responsible for getting any of my team injured or killed.  That would have haunted me for the rest of my life and I already had enough on my mind.



Finally we got the cease fire and assessed the damage.  There was plenty, but no injuries, no casualties.  I was told that I would be receiving a Purple Heart, but I said I didn’t want it, I only wanted to get out of Vietnam.



I did speak with my Battery Commander and told him what my lieutenant had done.  He confirmed this with the lieutenant, chewed him out and then transferred him elsewhere.



In November 1969, President Nixon ordered withdrawals of some of the combat forces.  The 3rd Brigade, 82nd Airborne was one of the first to go.  I returned to the United States November 30, 1969.



My experience in Vietnam seems like a bad nightmare.  It just didn’t seem real, the thought that I was actually there in combat.  For my actions in Vietnam I received the Bronze Star, Republic of Vietnam campaign Medal, Vietnam Service Medal with three stars(each represented a major campaign), the Army Commendation Medal and our unit was awarded the Vietnam Presidential Unit Citation, Republic of Vietnam Gallantry Cross Unit Citation, and Republic of Vietnam Civil Actions Unit Citation.



Some people called me a hero, but I am not a hero.  The 58,000 men and women who gave their lives, those who are missing in action (MIA), those severely wounded and the families that stood by their loved ones while protecting the rights of people in a far off land, those are your “real heroes.”  They deserve a big salute.



The American people back in the United States were protesting the Vietnam war and Congress told them that it wasn’t a war, but rather a conflict.  The protesting resulted in soldiers being mistreated when they returned home.  They were spit on and called baby killers.  Thank the media for that and giving false reports about the war in Vietnam.  Many stories were made up, to make the government look good to the folks back home.  What amazed me was that the body count was misleading.  If they killed 20 enemy soldiers and then found body parts such as a hand with fingers detached, they would count that as five dead.  I believe that they did this to pacify the War Department and the American people, as well as the politicians who got us in this mess in the first place.



American soldiers came from all over the country.  Most were drafted like me, but some did join to serve their country.  Then there were rich kids who fled to Canada because they were afraid of getting hurt or killed.



The only ones who profited from the war were the beer companies, soft drink companies, distillery companies, weapons manufacturers, tobacco companies, toy companies and of course our politicians.



A friend of mine from my middle school in Olathe, died in Vietnam.  His father was in the Navy, stationed at the Olathe Naval Air Station (now closed).  His name was James Calvin Ward.  His family moved to Milwaukee after that school year, but he enlisted in 1965 and was only in-country three months before being killed in October 1965.



Just think of the 58,000 who gave their lives so another country could enjoy freedom.  To this day I don’t believe we won that war.  You take a 17 or 18 year old male who has never been outside of the United States, train him to kill or be killed, and they wonder if they will ever see their loved ones again, a hard pill to swallow.  To see soldiers get blown to bits, I don’t wish this on anyone.



I have left out a few other incidents that I witnessed as they are too difficult for me to describe and they bring back memories that I’m trying to forget.



Back then the draft was in place because, in my opinion, they could not get enough young men to join the military and fight a war that never should have happened.



The soldiers who returned home from Vietnam never got the welcome they deserved for putting their lives on the line.  Today they have Wounded Warrior programs for soldiers from Desert Storm, Iraq and Afghanistan.  It is sad that the United States turned its back on the Vietnam soldiers.



Fifty years later the Americans are now telling the Vietnam vets ‘Welcome home’.  It’s a little too late to acknowledge us for a war that didn’t make sense.  We Vietnam vets have a bad feeling about the Vietnam war and are bitter towards the government (1965-1975) that still haunts us years later into the 21st century.  All the wasted equipment, money, time and many lives that cost us, and we are still paying for it today.



The bottom line why we were there:

(YOU HAVE TO LIVE IT TO SEE IT)