The FReeper Foxhole Remembers The Mining of the USS Westchester County (11/01/1968) - Sep 9th, 2004

Vietnam Magazine | August 1998 | Petty Officer 2nd Class G.W. Frederickson, U.S. Navy (ret.)

[SAMWolf]

Lord,

Keep our Troops forever in Your care

Give them victory over the enemy...

Grant them a safe and swift return...

Bless those who mourn the lost.
.

FReepers from the Foxhole join in prayer
for all those serving their country at this time.

...................................................................................... ...........................................

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Mined in the Mekong Delta

When VC frogmen struck USS Westchester County, they inflicted the Navy's greatest single-incident combat loss of the war.

According to one veteran of the river war in Vietnam, "The Mekong Delta's quiet at night, so quiet you can hear a pin drop for a klick [a kilometer]." And for the crew of USS Westchester County, LST (landing ship, tank) 1167, the night of November 1, 1968, had been no exception -- until 0322 hours, when a team of VC swimmers almost succeeded in turning the ship into a fireball.

Originally designed to transport and land troops directly onto a beach, in late 1968 Westchester County was serving as a temporary home and base to 175 soldiers of the 9th Infantry Division's 3rd Battalion, 34th Artillery, and to the crews of Navy River Assault Division 111. Assigned as support ship for Mobile Riverine Group Alpha, "Wesco," as she was known throughout the fleet, was anchored midstream on the muddy My Tho River, 40 miles upstream from the coastal seaport of Vung Tau. Clustered in a rough semicircle around the LST were the Brown Water Navy command ship USS Benewah, the repair vessel USS Askari, two large barracks barges, a small salvage vessel and scores of squat, green armored assault craft. All were fully loaded with fuel and ammunition.

Tied to Wesco's starboard side and cushioned from the ship's hull by a 50-foot-long teakwood log called a "camel" were three "ammis," huge aluminum pontoon barges linked together that served as combination pier, loading dock and ammunition and gasoline storage depot. The 25 monitors, assault support patrol boats and armored transports of River Assault Division 111 were moored to the ammis. On the ship's main deck were five fully fueled Army helicopters; below, on the tank deck, more than 350 tons of high explosives and ammunition were stored.


USS Westchester County
(LST-1167)

Operating out of Yokosuka, Japan, the 384-foot-long LST was one of many World War II and postwar amphibious workhorses pressed into service with the Brown Water Navy. She was no stranger to the coffee-colored rivers of the Mekong Delta, and on the night of November 1, the ship was almost at the midpoint of her fifth combat deployment to the Republic of Vietnam. So far, the cruise had been routine -- for a combat tour -- filled with hot, humid, seven-day workweeks, little liberty time ashore and the always-present chance of VC attack.

Nevertheless, morale was high. The ship's engineering department had recently taken the coveted Squadron "E" for excellence, and the award was now proudly displayed on her bridge. With only one month left in the delta, Wesco's 132-man crew looked forward to offloading their mobile riverine "guests" and sailing for Singapore and a well-deserved period of rest and recreation.


This photo was taken within 72 hours of the mining.

It was a typical night on the river. The ship was darkened, with only navigation lights showing. Forward and aft, 3-inch rapid-fire guns were loaded and ready, manned by reduced crews. Armed lookouts were posted on deck. A roving petty officer made sure that gun crews and sentries remained alert. A full watch was in place on the bridge, and in the engineering spaces the "snipes," as engine-room personnel were known, stood ready to answer all bells. In the distance, muffled thumps could be heard as picket boats made their rounds, dropping concussion grenades to ward off enemy frogmen. Below decks, in the crowded berthing compartments, the silence was disturbed only by the whir of air-conditioning fans and the murmurs of sleeping men.

But as the crew slept, a team of VC frogmen evaded the picket boats and silently approached the ship. The messenger of the watch had just gone below to wake the oncoming duty section when two enormous explosions ripped into Wesco's starboard side. A pair of swimmer-delivered mines, each estimated to contain between 150 and 500 pounds of explosives, had been simultaneously detonated directly beneath the camel.


The mines were placed between the ship and the barge for maximum affect and damage. (Official JAG Photo)

Compressed between the pontoons and the LST's hull, the force of the explosions was driven upward, shredding steel plating, rupturing fuel tanks and blasting into the berthing compartments. One of the ammis seemed to leap out of the water as a huge spray of oil, water and hardwood splinters was thrown into the air. In an instant, visibility within the ship was reduced to zero as lighting was knocked out and the air filled with clouds of choking steam and vaporized diesel fuel.

In the crowded sleeping areas, the blasts rolled an entire deck upward and back, like the tongue of a shoe, leaving only a cramped crawl space jammed with twisted metal and mangled bodies between the deck and bulkhead. Below, in the Army berthing spaces, men, bedding, weapons, ammunition and personal gear were hurled across the compartment as two gaping holes opened the interior of the ship to the muddy waters of the My Tho.


The barge was severed from the ship and had to be retrieved. (Official JAG Photo)

Shock waves reverberated across the water, and Wesco began listing to starboard. General Quarters was sounded throughout the ship as men groped in the tangled darkness to reach battle stations or aid wounded shipmates. The LST's commanding officer, Lt. Cmdr. John Branin, had been pitched from his bed by the blast. Thinking his ship was under rocket attack, Branin picked himself off the deck, struggled into his pants and dashed for the bridge.

Just beneath the main deck a volcano waited to erupt. Two-thirds of the tank deck, running nearly the entire length of the ship, was being used for ammunition storage. More than 10,000 rounds of Army 105mm and 155mm high-explosive ammunition were stored there, closely stacked alongside pallets of 20mm ammunition, boxes of C-4 plastic explosive, Claymore mines, white phosphorous ammunition and cases of flares and pyro-technics. In the wake of the explosions, loose and damaged ammunition lay scattered about the deck. Clouds of highly flammable vaporized fuel hung in the air. With just one spark, the entire contents of Westchester County could easily go "high order."


The sentry on watch in this shack was killed instantly by the blasts. (Official JAG Photo)

Amidships on the second deck, in the hard-hit senior petty officers' compartment, Hospital Corpsman 1st Class John Sullivan struggled to breathe as he regained consciousness. An emergency battle lantern from the deck above cast a hint of light through the diesel fog in the devastation around him. Thrown from his bunk, Sullivan found himself lying half on the deck and half in a gaping hole that had suddenly appeared six inches away from where he had been sleeping. Dazed and disoriented at first, he instinctively pulled himself away from the opening. Below, unseen in the darkness, the waters of the My Tho poured into the ship. Sullivan felt a burning sensation in his right leg. A large chunk of flesh had been torn from the inside of his knee. With the General Quarters alarm sounding faintly in the background, the blast-deafened corpsman became aware of muffled cries for help. Gingerly, as much by feel as by sight, Sullivan skirted the hole in the deck and began crawling through the gloom, across the wreckage and toward the source of the voices.

[SAMWolf]

On the bridge, Commander Branin and his executive officer, Richard Jensen, faced a grim situation. Early reports indicated severe damage amidships and suggested heavy casualties, especially among the senior petty officers. Movement about the ship was extremely hazardous on oil-slick decks. Communications between repair parties and damage control central was almost negligible. On the tank deck, clouds of vaporized fuel and tons of ammunition provided the potential for an explosion of hellish dimensions. And while it was now clear that the LST was not being rocketed, there was a very real possibility that the VC had planted more than two mines.


The blast breached the iner bulkhead to the Tank Deck exposing her 350 tons of explosive cargo. (Official JAG Photo)

But for the moment, Branin's attention was occupied by a more immediate problem. Wesco's list was increasing as tons of river water continued to flood into ruptured compartments. As the ship heeled, charts, publications, shattered glass and overturned equipment began to slide across the bridge deck. For an instant Branin thought, "She's going all the way over!"

If the LST was to be saved, the list had to be corrected -- and corrected fast. Twenty-four years of naval service and an intimate knowledge of the Wesco's unique capabilities gave Branin his solution. Designed for amphibious assaults, the landing ship was equipped with a sophisticated ballasting system. By flooding a series of huge internal tanks, the ship was designed to be able to partially sink herself onto a beach and offload her armored cargo through a set of massive bow doors. After that, it was simple to pump out the ballast, refloat the ship and back away. Since depths on the tidal rivers of the Mekong Delta can change rapidly and become quite shallow, Wesco's forward ballast tanks were already flooded as a precaution when the mines exploded. Branin knew that if the hull in the forward part of his ship was still watertight, he could "deballast" the LST's forward starboard tanks and, theoretically, offset the tons of water flooding in amidships.

The force of the explosions compressed decks to overheads, killing most as they slept. (Official JAG Photo)

With so many of the senior petty officers killed or wounded, many of the ship's vital stations had to be quickly reorganized. Junior petty officers and nonrated men stepped up, instinctively taking charge at battle stations suddenly undermanned and without leaders. As watertight doors were being closed throughout the ship, 22-year-old Petty Officer 2nd Class Rick Russell found himself alone in the LST's forward pumping station. Discovering little damage in the forward section of the ship, Russell made contact with the bridge by sound-powered phone, reported in and stood by for orders. Almost 30 years later, Branin still gives his youthful shipmate credit for reversing Wesco's list by "doing exactly as he was told."

Miraculously, there was still electrical power to the pumps and, with Branin's damage control officer relaying precise instructions, Russell began the complex process of deballasting the forward starboard tanks. While the captain held his breath, instructions were passed, valves opened and pumps started. As water was forced from the tanks, the rate of list began to decrease. Groaning, Wesco straightened herself out and slowly started rolling back.

Two very large holes blown into bearthing and fuel compartments of LST-1167. (Official JAG Photo)

Because of the darkness and devastation, a detailed investigation of the ship's condition was still extremely difficult, but with an hour and a half before first light, damage control and rescue efforts continued. Soundings indicated that the flooding was being brought under control as compartments next to the devastated areas were sealed off.

Over the next half-hour the situation began to stabilize, but deep within Wesco's mangled second deck berthing compartments, hospital corpsman John Sullivan knew only that there were wounded men still trapped in the destruction around him. After feeling his way through the choking darkness of the senior petty officers' quarters, Sullivan finally located his injured shipmates. Sandwiched between the remains of their bunks and tons of tangled steel, two sailors lay pinned in the wreckage. Sullivan hollered for help and began first aid.

Unexploded ordinance littered the crippled barge. Here you see LAWS rockets, ammunition and other explosives scattered about on the bardge. (Official JAG Photo)

Without light to work by, the corpsman treated his patients by touch. One of the wounded men was still conscious; a large, metal support hook had been driven through his arm. The other sailor wasn't making any noise at all. Sullivan probed the top of the man's head -- it was mushy, but he was still breathing. Both sailors had multiple injuries. After treating their wounds as best he could, Sullivan was able to pry the men free and, with the help of an impromptu rescue team, evacuated them to a higher deck. According to Sullivan: "We didn't obey a whole lot of first-aid rules on moving victims. At the time, it was just a matter of getting them the hell out of there."

Of the 11 men quartered in the first class petty officers' berthing area, three had been in other parts of the ship on watch; five were killed outright. Sullivan and his two wounded shipmates were the only sailors to emerge alive from the compartment after the explosions.

November 4, 1968 Westchester County beached. Mine damage repair begun My Tho River, Dong Tam, RSVN

After evacuating the wounded men from the remains of the first class quarters, Sullivan headed for the bridge to find out where else he was needed. Along the way, the hospital corpsman realized that his leg was still bleeding and what clothing he had been wearing at the time of the explosions was long gone. Sullivan was able to find a pair of pants and a pair of shoes that fit, but his leg would have to wait.

By now, every crew member still able was hard at work. As soon as it became evident the ship was not under sustained attack, Captain Branin released nonvital men from their topside battle stations to assist with rescue and casualty evacuation. Until blowers could clear the lower decks of vaporized fuel, the use of cutting torches was out of the question. Chain falls, pry bars, come-alongs and screw jacks were used to free men trapped in the wreckage. Battle lanterns and portable lighting equipment provided illumination. On the ammunition-laden tank deck, an attentive fire party stood by with hoses at the ready while sailors gingerly went about the work of collecting damaged ammunition, gently setting it aside until it could be disposed of.

Sp4 Paull David Jose, "David" as his family called him was Awarded the Silver Star, a Bronze Star, and 2 Purple Hearts during his service in the Republic of Vietnam. David's name is listed on Panel 40W --- Line 77 of the Vietnam War Memorial in Washington D.C. with the others who died that day aboard the Westchester.

In the flooded fourth-deck troop compartment, the inrush of river water and diesel oil finally abated, stabilizing at a depth of 6 feet. But inside the 88-man berthing area was a scene out of Dante's Inferno. Rescue teams were held up by an impenetrable tangle of debris. Sheets, blankets, pillows, M-16 rifles and duffel bags were intermingled with shredded metal lockers, bunk stanchions and an incredible jumble of personal gear. Another hazard facing the rescuers was a bewildering assortment of grenades, mines and ammunition, brought back aboard the ship in violation of regulations by soldiers returning from the field. Once all the trapped and injured survivors were evacuated, the compartment was abandoned until a complete investigation could be conducted. The next day, salvage divers removed the remains of five soldiers who had been crushed in the explosions.

[SAMWolf]

At first light, as boats shuttled rescue equipment and wounded men to and from the scene, the scope of the VC attack and the damage resulting from it became obvious. Wesco's hull was scarred by a pair of gaping, 10-foot holes, and the ship still listed 11 degrees to starboard. On the oil-soaked main deck, two of the Army choppers were wrecked beyond repair. The inboard ammi, miraculously still afloat, was grotesquely crumpled, its forward third punched inward by the force of the blasts. Dozens of damaged light anti-tank rockets, Claymore mines, blocks of C-4 plastic explosive, flares, grenades and other loose ordnance lay strewn across the ammi's twisted deck. The pontoon's guard shack was a jumble of splintered timber; Petty Officer 3rd Class Harry Kenny, the sailor who had been manning this post, was missing. Several armored assault craft moored to the ammi were severely damaged and in danger of sinking. The teakwood camel was no longer in the water. The forward half of the enormous log had been vaporized, and a telephone-pole-sized chunk of the remaining 25 feet had been driven through the ammi's aluminum hull with the splintered remainder scattered over the decks of the pontoon and LST.


Seaman Floyd W Houghtaling, was aboard the Westchester County, Lst - 1167. Floyd's name is listed on Panel 40W -- Line 077 of the Vietnam War Memorial in Washington D.C.

While a corpsman from River Assault Division 111 tended to casualties in sick bay, John Sullivan returned to the devastated starboard-side berthing areas. Two men had been discovered still alive in one of the partially flooded lower compartments. A huge sheet of steel had pinned them and their bunks against the overhead. Directly below the men, sunlight and the waters of the My Tho River entered the ship through a 10-foot-wide hole. Once again Sullivan made his way into the wreckage and stayed with his two shipmates for more than an hour, rendering first aid and giving encouragement. Slowly, the metal was pried back far enough to pull the wounded sailors free. A Boston whaler was then driven directly into the ship through the hole to take them to safety.

About 1100, Sullivan himself finally left the ship to receive medical attention. Once his wounded leg was sewn up, the corpsman returned to the LST for his most difficult task of the day, identifying and fingerprinting the bodies of his dead shipmates.


YN 2 Jerry Smith Leonard, was aboard the Westchester County, Lst - 1167. Jerry's name is listed on Panel 39W -- Line 01 of the Vietnam War Memorial in Washington D.C.

Several days later, after unsuccessfully attempting to assess the full damage to his ship where she lay, Branin reluctantly gave orders to beach Wesco, and the LST was gently run aground on the bank of the My Tho near Dong Tam. At low tide, enough of the hull was exposed to enable the captain to plan temporary repairs.

With the help of a repair division from Askari and a team from Naval Support Activity, Dong Tam, Wesco's crew worked around the clock for the next 14 days, building a cofferdam to keep the river at bay, cutting away mangled steel and binding up the LST's wounds.


ETN 2 Thomas George Funke, was aboard the Westchester County, Lst - 1167. Thomas's name is listed on Panel 40W -- Line 072 of the Vietnam War Memorial in Washington D.C.

But before the temporary repairs could be completed, Branin and his men faced one more challenge. A local shortage of structural steel plating and I-beams threatened to keep the ship in its vulnerable riverbank position until a shipment of the critical materials could arrive from a repair base in Japan or the Philippines. Not willing to wait, Branin decided to follow a time-honored Navy tradition and sent a party ashore for a little "midnight requisitioning." That evening at an Army engineer compound near Dong Tam, Branin's men located a stockpile of portable bridging equipment, complete with assorted I-beams and plenty of steel plating. Within hours the "borrowed" I-beams and patches were cut to size and welded into place on Wesco.

On November 14, 1968, with the help of a large Navy tug, the crew of Westchester County refloated their ship and steamed down the My Tho, outbound for the South China Sea and a 2,500-mile voyage home to Yokosuka for dry-docking and permanent repairs. Wesco's passage home was not to be an easy one. Along the way, the wounded LST lost a race trying to outrun a typhoon. Rough seas caused cracks and ruptures in the temporary repairs, and the ship's damaged holds began taking on water. By the time the LST entered Tokyo Bay on November 25, flooding from the hole in the aft part of the ship had overwhelmed pumps capable of pumping 3,200 gallons per minute. Once again, parts of the damaged areas were flooded to the waterline.


RD3 Keith William Duffy, was aboard the Westchester County, Lst - 1167. Keith's name is listed on Panel 40W -- Line 074 of the Vietnam War Memorial in Washington D.C.

This time the crew was ready. Watertight doors and well-braced bulkheads sealed off flooded compartments from the rest of the ship. Well-tested damage control parties stood by, confident of themselves and of Wesco's ability to take whatever was thrown at her.

At 1000 hours the next day, battered but unbowed, Westchester County passed the Yokosuka breakwater and steamed into her home port. Obvious patches marked where the VC mines had torn into her side, and her main deck was still piled high with debris cut away dur-ing the repair effort. But topside, the ship sported a fresh coat of haze-gray paint, and while the special sea-and-anchor detail scrambled to make her fast to the pier, a veteran crew manned Wesco's rail.

When the final casualty figures were tallied, they showed that 17 crew members of Westchester County had been killed in the explosions; five 9th Infantry Division soldiers died in the wreckage of the troop compartment. Also killed in the attack were one sailor from River Assault Division 111, one South Vietnamese Navy sailor and one South Vietnamese "Tiger Scout" interpreter. Twenty-two crewmen had been wounded. The 25 KIAs lost in the mining of Westchester County represent the U.S. Navy's greatest single-incident combat loss of life during the entire Vietnam War.


Rm3 Gerald Eugene Hamm, was aboard the Westchester County, Lst - 1167. Gerald's name is listed on Panel 40W -- Line 076 of the Vietnam War Memorial in Washington D.C.

In a postwar analysis of the attack, retired Army explosives expert Captain Robert Shelley expressed his opinion that the mining had been a well-planned and executed enemy operation that fell just short of becoming an unparalleled allied disaster. Shelley, whose 21 years of active service included 14 years with explosive ordnance disposal, two tours in Vietnam and command of the unit tasked with clearing the Suez Canal after the 1973 Arab-Israeli War, said that had Westchester County's cargo of ordnance gone high order, the resulting blast would have been equal to that of a small nuclear weapon, destroying the ship instantly and generating an enormous wave capable of capsizing other good-sized vessels. Thousands of gallons of diesel fuel would have been spilled into the river, with tons of unexploded ammunition and automobile-sized pieces of the ship being hurled into the shoreline, the local town, and onto ships anchored several thousand yards away. According to Shelley, had the mining of Westchester County been entirely successful, it could have easily resulted in immobilizing or destroying the entire Mobile Riverine Force. Shelley credits the action and quick thinking of Wesco's crew -- and a slight miscalculation in the VC's placement of their charges -- for averting a tragedy that, terrible as it was, could have been incalculably greater.


Rm3 Joseph Anthony Miller, was aboard the Westchester County, Lst - 1167. Joseph's name is listed on Panel 39W -- Line 02 of the Vietnam War Memorial in Washington D.C.

Following repairs in Japan, Westchester County continued to make regular deployments to Vietnam until the end of the American involvement. By the time she was decommissioned in 1973, Wesco had been awarded three Navy Unit Commendations, two Meritorious Commendations and 15 Engagement Stars, a combat record matched by only two other LSTs. More than 36 awards and commendations were awarded to the ship's crew for its performance during and immediately after the November 1 attack. Lieutenant Commander Branin received the Bronze Star. Hospital Corpsman First Class John Sullivan was awarded the Silver Star and the Purple Heart. Branin and Sullivan later retired from the Navy, and today both men live in Ramona, Calif.

In 1974, USS Westchester County was turned over to the Turkish navy, where she continues to serve as TCG Serdar (L 402).

Additional Sources:

http://www.lst1167.com
www.navsource.org
www.jerebeery.com
eastonvietnammemorial.homestead.com

[SAMWolf]

The USS Westchester County, LST 1167, was named for a county in Southeastern New York State. She displaced 2,590 tons light, 5,800 tons loaded; 384' in length at the waterline; width (beam) 56'6"; maximum draft 17'; speed 14.5 knots; her average complement (crew) 153; and armament 3 twin 3"/50 caliber MK33 rapid fire naval guns. She was built from plans for the LST 1156 (Terrebonne Parish) class of US Navy Warship.


Westchester County (LST-1167), date and place unknown.
US Navy photo

The keel for the LST 1167 was laid down on 11 January 1952 by The Christy Corporation; Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin. She was launched on 18 April 1953. Sponsored by Mrs. Robert E. Wood, who may have been a wonderful woman to put her soul into this ship and this ship had soul and character.

After "Fitting Out" and "Sea Trials" in Lake Michigan she was prepared for her transit through the Chicago canals and rivers to New Orleans and reassembly and final fitting out. LST 1167 was commissioned on 10 March 1954, Lt. Commander Leonard F. Lacey at the command. LST 1167 departed New Orleans on 8 April 1954 and reached the Naval Amphibious Base at Little Creek, Virginia on 14 April. The rest of 1954 was spent in amphibious warfare training exercises in the Chesapeake Bay.


LST 1167 now the Serda in the Turkish Navy

The Westchester County was decommissioned on 30 August 1973 and arrived at the Inactive Ship Facility, 30 November of that year. On 27 August 1974, she was turned over to the Turkish Navy and commissioned as Serdar (L402).

During her time of service, the USS Westchester County, LST 1167 earned 15 engagement stars for Vietnam service, the First Combat Action Ribbon for service in the Quemoy Straits, July 1958, plus three other combat action ribbons for service in Vietnam.

[SAMWolf]

John Kerry told the world we were war criminals who raped, tortured and murdered in Vietnam. Now, thirty-three years later, we will tell America the truth.

Join us at the rally we call:

What: A peaceful remembrance of those with whom we served in Vietnam - those who lived and those who died.
We will tell the story of their virtues and how that contrasts with the lies told by John Kerry.

When: Sunday, Sept. 12, 2004 @ 2:00 PM - 4:00 PM EDT

Where: Upper Senate Park, Washington, D.C. It is easy to get to, shady and pretty, with a great view of the Capitol dome in back of the speaker's platform. THIS IS A NEW LOCATION AS OF 7/17/04

All Vietnam veterans and their families and supporters are asked to attend. Other veterans are invited as honored guests. This will be a peaceful event--no shouting or contact with others with different opinions. We fought for their rights then, and we respect their rights now. This is NOT a Republican or a pro-Bush rally. Democrats, Republicans and independents alike are warmly invited.

Our gathering is to remember those with whom we served, thereby giving the lie to John Kerry's smear against a generation of fine young men. B.G. "Jug" Burkett, author of "Stolen Valor," will be one of our speakers. Jug has debunked countless impostors who falsely claimed to be Vietnam veterans or who falsely claimed awards for heroism. Jug recommends that we refrain from dragging fatigues out of mothballs. Dress like America, like you do every day. Dress code: business casual, nice slacks, and shirt and shoes. No uniform remnants, please. Unit hats OK.

Selected members will wear badges identifying them as authorized to speak to the media about our event. Others who speak to the media will speak only for themselves.

The program will be controlled in an attempt to stay on-message. Speakers are encouraged not to engage in speculative criticism of John Kerry but (1) to stick to known and undisputed facts about John Kerry’s lies while (2) reminding America of the true honor and courage of our brothers in battle in Vietnam.

Send this announcement to 10 or more of your brothers! Bring them by car, bus, train or plane! Make this event one of pride in America, an event you would be proud to have your mother or your children attend.

Contact: kerrylied.com

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Veterans for Constitution Restoration is a non-profit, non-partisan educational and grassroots activist organization. The primary area of concern to all VetsCoR members is that our national and local educational systems fall short in teaching students and all American citizens the history and underlying principles on which our Constitutional republic-based system of self-government was founded. VetsCoR members are also very concerned that the Federal government long ago over-stepped its limited authority as clearly specified in the United States Constitution, as well as the Founding Fathers' supporting letters, essays, and other public documents.

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Actively seeking volunteers to provide this valuable service to Veterans and their families.

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UPDATED THROUGH APRIL 2004



The FReeper Foxhole. America's History. America's Soul

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[snippy_about_it]

"FALL IN" to the FReeper Foxhole!



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[A Jovial Cad]

Good morning snippy, SAM. Very informative & interesting, as always. Such brave men--I salute them all.
One thing that struck me about the article was how it relayed that so many of the men still alive didn't panic, but went right into "combat mode" to do their jobs.
Just before I went to Basic Training I asked my Dad, who'd obviously been through it, what to expect. I'll never forget that he told me I was apt to hear more than a little yelling and screaming, as well as some language my mother probably wouldn't approve of (which I subsequently did, just as predicted, LOL).
I said something to the effect that *that* sure didn't sound like a very good way to train people to serve (understand I was 18 and thought, like many of us do at 18, that I knew EVERYTHING).
"They do it that way," he said, "mainly so that if you ever find yourself in the Real Deal, you'll follow orders and hopefully keep yourself alive." Or words to that effect.
I never did find myself in the "Real Deal" during my time in the service--but he was right. It's amazing how the training kicks in so many times, as in this story, just when it's needed the most.

[Iris7]

Hospital Corpsman Sullivan showing what a Silver Star means. That Kerry bribed and lied his way to a Silver Star with V (no such thing exists, a figment of Kerry's diseased imagination) is a disgrace to the honor of men everywhere.

The behavior of the crew under pressure is how the Navy is. Since before the Phoenicians sailors have dealt with highly complex vessels. Wood is every bit as difficult as steel. Survival requires prompt and correct action. If a senior is not coping, a subordinate will take over and get the job done. Been there. That is how I learned to judge character.

It is amazing how fast things will go really bad.

Memories. Me, it is only random chance I made it, just never in the wrong place in the wrong time. Miracles. What a difference being "here", instead of "there", can make. "There" can be three inches away from "here", too.

Thanks for the post, SAM.

I had a half dozen or so dreams years ago, same damned dream, about looking down over the fantail and locking eyes with an old man with an AK in a boat. His pards were rigging the bomb. The VC couldn't decide whether or not to detonate the charge that second, hesitant to kill themselves, hey. If the old man shot me, other crew would hear, and the sappers would not escape either. They did not know what to do. Neither did I. If I ran they would set off the bomb since we would kill them anyway. The old man and I just locked eyes.

Gee, haven't thought about that dream since I last had it, about 1990.

[Iris7]

Thinking back, I remember it was not an AK but that Russian 7.62x25 machine pistol right after the ppsh, forget what the darned things name is. The one with the stick magazine, not the rotary.

[E.G.C.]

Good morning, Snippy and everyone at the Freeper Foxhole.

[radu]

Good morning everyone!

To all our military men and women, past and present, and to our allies who stand with us,
THANK YOU!

[Mr Ducklips]

Good morning, and thanks for the excellent post. Do you happen to have a photograph of John Sullivan to post? Thanks.

[The Mayor]

September 9, 2004

Unfamiliar Roads

Read: Psalm 119:105-112

Teach me Your way, O Lord, and lead me in a smooth path. —Psalm 27:11

Bible In One Year: Proverbs 6-7; 2 Corinthians 2

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Trouble often lies ahead when we go down unfamiliar roads.

I know a teenager who decided to take a different way to work one morning. As he tried to navigate unfamiliar city streets, he went through an intersection without seeing the red octagonal sign that said Stop.

Within a few seconds, he did stop, but not for a stop sign. He was pulled over by a helpful gentleman in a police car, who reminded him that he should have stopped. It cost him $80 to learn about unfamiliar roads.

What would have happened if a guide had accompanied this young driver? What if someone had been next to him to tell him which way to go and to alert him to danger ahead? He wouldn't be out the $80, that's for sure.

In life, we often have to walk down unfamiliar paths—paths that may feel threatening. So how do we do that without making costly mistakes?

We take Someone along who knows the way. The psalmist recognized that Guide when he wrote, "Lead me, O Lord, in Your righteousness . . . make Your way straight before my face" (Psalm 5:8).

Does your path today seem unfamiliar? Ask your Father to travel the road with you. —Dave Branon

Take Jesus with you as your faithful guide,
You cannot fail when He is at your side;
You may encounter trouble on life's road,
But He will help to lift your heavy load. —Hess

The Spirit within us will faithfully guide us.

[alfa6]

Large Stationary Bump for the Foxhole

Training make all the differences in your reactions. In my days in a younger mans clothes I was interested in going into the Law Enforcement field. As a result of said interest I was a member of several reserve police departments while going to high school and college. Several times during those years I happenend across some really bad auto accidents.

Jump out of the car, check on the injured, try to get a secure scene, send for help, etc. Once the police or the troopers get there and take over and I was able to go on my merry way that's when the shakes might start.

More later

Regards

alfa6 ;>}

[manna]

Present!

[Colonel_Flagg]

Good morning, Foxhole! Falling in for a good Thursday, I trust.

Another fine job on the thread this morning. As someone who spends most of his reading time studying a specific area of history, it's nice to expand my horizons :)

Have a great day!

[Soaring Feather]

Good morning everyone!

[SAMWolf]

Morning Jovial Cad.

That's why I believe those who say training hard will save lives later. Something the PC crowd is trying to change. IMHO I don't want a "sensitive" military, I want one that can function well when all around in chaos. That takes hard training.

[CholeraJoe]

Checking in and bumping.

[SAMWolf]

Hospital Corpsman Sullivan showing what a Silver Star means. That Kerry bribed and lied his way to a Silver Star with V (no such thing exists, a figment of Kerry's diseased imagination) is a disgrace to the honor of men everywhere.

I think that's one of the things that sticks in the craw of a lot of Vets. We know what it takes to really earn those medals.

Miracles. What a difference being "here", instead of "there", can make. "There" can be three inches away from "here", too.

A lot of us have memories like that. What if that rocket had hit 50 ft to the left? What if one more round was walked up the road? Can't help but wonder every once in a while. I guess "miracle" does describe the "difference".

Thanks for sharing your experience with us Iris7.

[SAMWolf]

It could have been the PPs 43.