Mission for Memorial Day:

Always Remember

         IF you traveled on one of the nation’s Interstates in the past  before Memorial Day, you might have encountered an unusual sight: bikers by the dozens stretched half a mile down the highway, their motorcycles flying military banners and spewing exhaust.

        They are an intimidating bunch. Sheathed in leather from the neck down, they look like physical extensions of their bikes. But these riders are no motley crew. They are members of Rolling Thunder, a nationwide network of veterans and their supporters. Their destination: the Rolling Thunder Memorial Day rally on the National Mall in Washington.

         “In D.C., people were mouthing ‘thank you’ and crying,” Deno Paolini, a Vietnam veteran from Reno, Nev., recalled of his first trip to the Mall. Mr. Paolini said that the Washington run is one of the few times he feels appreciated for his service. In Washington, he said, it “began to make sense.”

         Rolling Thunder, which has thousands of members, was founded in 1987 when some Vietnam veterans and advocates for P.O.W.’s and M.I.A.’s befriended one another on the mall. They were looking for a special way to promote their cause. Ray Manzo of Hoboken, N.J., now a former marine, suggested motorcycles. The idea grabbed them. Masses of bikes descending on Washington would literally sound like Rolling Thunder, the code name for the bombing campaign over North Vietnam.

        In its first year, the Memorial Day rally drew 2,500 bikers. Now, nearly two decades later, hundreds of thousands of bikers join in.

        “When you put 200,000 bikes together,” said Michael DePaulo, a Vietnam veteran from Berkley, Mass., who helps organize and run the rally, “it sounds like a B-52 strike.”

         One rider is Steve Britton, a former marine from Dillon, Colo. With his leather vest, cowboy boots and grizzled mutton chops, he resembles a sheriff in a western. And like many of his comrades, Mr. Britton is very much a modern cowboy. “I love the freedom and the air and the bugs in my teeth,” he said of his attraction to motorcycles.

          Riding also renews Mr. Britton’s sense of self-worth, which he said he lost after he received hostile and indifferent receptions upon returning from Vietnam in the late 1960s. He said post-traumatic stress disorder and alcoholism prevented him from holding a steady job. “I was at the point where I was saying, ‘God, either kill me or cure me,’ and I really didn’t care which.”

           But Mr. Britton turned to Christianity, joined the Christian Motorcyclists Association and found salvation on the open road. He carries a small Bible on his annual ride to Washington. The art on the cover depicts handlebars and shining headlights. The caption reads: “Hope for the Highway.”

           He serves as a chaplain for Rolling Thunder bikers. “That’s why I go on the ride,” he said. “To be able to share with people, to pray with people.”

           Mr. Britton pilots a bright purple Honda Gold Wing. His bike is equipped with plush purple seats and velour arm rests. He fills his five-CD changer with Randy Travis recordings and keeps a pouch of Twizzlers on the dash to tame his cigarette addiction. At gas stations, he drinks cups of black coffee; even at 65 miles an hour, the bike can lull a rider to sleep.

          Mr. Britton is one of 50 or so Rolling Thunder bikers who meet in California and ride their motorcycles to Washington each spring. They call themselves Carry the Flame, and they take an Olympic-style “torch of remembrance” to soldiers’ families who are unable to visit the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. The bikers stop at Harley-Davidson outfitters and V.F.W. posts to conduct flame-lighting ceremonies.

           Most of the Carry the Flame riders are veterans who say they see the 10-day, eight-state, 3,000-mile journey as a powerful expression of identity and pride and a way to cope with the past.

          “The ghosts get let out of the box,” said King Cavalier II, a founder of Carry the Flame. He said that during the ride from California to Washington “full-grown 250-pound men break down like babies” because the experience makes them confront memories and emotions that have “been repressed for 30 years.”

          Mr. Cavalier grows somber and becomes teary-eyed when he stops in small towns to meet the parents and siblings of those who never returned from Vietnam.

          He is not a veteran himself but rides in memory of his father, a career Air Force man who, he said, spent a lifetime fighting for complete military benefits (he received full disability status six months before he died, at age 90). “This is my service,” Mr. Cavalier said of his involvement in Carry the Flame. “To quit would be like going AWOL.”

            Like many of the riders, Mr. Cavalier is also a member of Rolling Thunder National, an affiliated organization founded in 1995 that works year-round for veterans’ rights. Rolling Thunder National has 80 chapters in 28 states. While most of its members are veterans, mostly from the Vietnam era, Rolling Thunder National estimates that 40 to 45 percent are not.

            Mr. Britton tries to help Iraq war veterans who suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder. He calls the motorcycle his tool — his way of reaching out.

            But riding also lets Mr. Britton experience the emotion of combat. “I’m an adrenaline junkie,” he said, “and having been in a war situation, you don’t get that buzz doing many other things.”

            It takes 10 days for the Carry the Flame riders to get from California to Washington. The veterans on the trip say they are not accustomed to the camaraderie that develops on the road; even those veterans in the group who have families say they generally feel a sense of isolation.

             “We’re all loners, and that’s what you see here. That’s the common thread,” said Mr. Paolini, a small, wiry Vietnam veteran who rides with a cigar in his mouth and an iPod in his pocket. “But I’m here with these people, these wonderful men,” he added, looking at the rows of bikes and the veterans milling around under the trees. “We’ve shared in this experience.”

              Mr. Britton agreed. “You don’t get the same brotherhood in the civilian world that you get in combat,” he said. “And all of us have looked for that since we’ve come back.”

            THE veterans may have felt disrespected and disenfranchised, but tearing down the road cross-country from Barstow in California to Tuba City in Arizona, from El Reno in Oklahoma to Washington with military flags ripping the air, is a kind of psychological remuneration.

             For them, freedom is not an illusory ideal but a physical thing composed of leather, chrome and whatever element the sky might throw in their faces.

                 And they know that some experiences cannot be had in a car.

            A couple of days into the 2005 trip, Mr. Cavalier remembered leading his riders through a mountain pass outside Angel Fire, N.M., with Mr. Britton and Mr. Paolini following single file as they wound their bikes into the chilly heights. As the men began their descent, an eagle and two ravens burst from a cluster of trees. The eagle fled its pursuers, shooting into the blue sky. Suddenly, it swooped toward the bikers, gliding beside them for a quarter mile or more — just another rider out on a beautiful day.

          “The bike is a totally different world,” said Germán Fernandez of Corona, Calif., another Vietnam veteran who was riding with Mr. Cavalier. “It’s not for everybody, but the ones who like it get on, and they never get off.”

SETAF adopts the Tactical Iraqi system

.        In preparation for their potential deployment to Iraq, in December the U.S. Army’s 173rd Airborne Brigade and other units of the Army’s Southern European Task Force (Airborne) based at the U.S. Army Garrison Vicenza in Caserma Ederle (Italy) began learning Iraqi Arabic with the Tactical Iraqi Language and Culture System.

         In early 2007, the additional battalions of the 173rd Airborne stationed at the U.S. Army Garrisons in Grafenwoehr and Schweinfurt (Germany) will also start using the Tactical Iraqi system. The interactive, mission-based Tactical Iraqi system teaches soldiers the vital linguistic and cultural awareness skills they need to conduct their missions in Iraq safely and effectively.

          The soldiers will take the Tactical Iraqi course at state-of-the-art, networked training simulation labs under the direction Maj. John Woodard, Simulations Officer with USASETAF G-3 Battle Command. The labs also feature the DARWARS Training Systems Ambush! battle simulation program.

             Photos from Operation Enduring Freedom VI. The 173rd Airborne Brigade had paratroopers deployed to Afghanistan from February 2005 through April 2006.

A Vietnam Grunts Prayer

Do not shut me off from the dawn,

 my fate lies for me there...Like a lion in wait for its prey.

Blind not my eyes for compassion,

nor for one minute let my senses slip: And last but not least,

Let me find no comfort in war.

 Let me see some Humanity in any form or shape...

And grant me from the peace I seek, while I sleep through the mortar fire.

Guard me from the inhumanity of murder,

 even though it is expected of me,

And in this vast field of hatred may I find one friend,

 who will escape with me, even momentarily, to the happiest of conversation without guns.

Give me the blind faith to accept the unknown

, and take what's around the next bend,

or in the next bush I encounter and to survive with the knowledge that someday this bad dream

will be over and I will be home safe.

Finally, blind me from the surrounding death and its' foul smell that hangs like a buzzard

over our heads and make this patrol our last one.

I live in fire and destruction. Death is not proud, it surrounds us with its' mouth

and I pray through the fire and smoke that it spits me out so that I can go on.

   R. T. Geer / 68 Ó

Scenic Vietnam

William "Easy" Smith, who served in the 27th Infantry

 in Vietnam, puts a wreath on the Vietnam Veterans

                   It took nearly 30 years for William "Easy" Smith to start looking for the self that he lost in Vietnam.

His journey inward began when he found the courage to visit the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Capitol Park.

There he saw the names of those who had lost their lives, and he remembered the distant war that sent him home with permanent scars inside and out.

Since then, each Memorial Day weekend, Smith has placed a wreath at the memorial to honor the men who died in his celebrated unit, the Army's 27th Infantry, known as the Wolfhounds.

On Sunday, a reading of the names of Californians who died in Vietnam will take place from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. at the memorial.

This year, Smith not only will honor those who died in the Vietnam War, but he also will read the names of Americans who have died in Iraq.

"Remembering them is such a healing process," says the 58-year-old Natomas resident. "They deserve to be remembered. And their names are read so that they are not forgotten."

It was a long time before Smith was willing to remember.

Smith, who says he was wounded twice in Vietnam and came home an emotional wreck, tried to drown his war demons.

"I came home from Vietnam by myself," Smith recalls. "I never got to see those boys I served with. For years I didn't know who made it out alive or what had become of them. I had begun to block out that whole experience and stuff it deep down inside.

"The only welcome home I got was from my mother and sister, who met me. My wife and kid couldn't even meet me because they didn't have a car."

Smith said his own mother never asked him what happened in Vietnam, and his sister and others urged him to "get on with your life."

But his life had been forever altered.

"As long as I live I will not forget going into my favorite restaurant near my house. And the man who owned the place called me over and said, 'I hear that a lot of people coming back from Vietnam are crazy. Are you crazy?' "

Smith walked out of the restaurant.

"That was the last time I would say anything about the Vietnam War," he says. "I completely shut down. Like many other vets, I began to do a lot of drugs and alcohol. That was the only way we knew how to escape the pain we were in."

Smith, who was married with a 2-year-old daughter when he went to Vietnam, came back unable to maintain relationships. He and his wife split up.

A fractured life of torn relations and substance abuse finally came to a head in 1995 when police arrested him for speeding on Interstate 5.

That incident, which he refers to as a flashback, led Smith to seek treatment for post-traumatic stress disorder at the Veterans Affairs hospital in Menlo Park.

After 11 months of treatment at the VA hospital, Smith emerged ready to confront the ghosts of his Vietnam past and help other veterans confront theirs.

Mary Lou McNeill, executive director of the Vietnam Veterans of America Chapter 500, has watched Smith help others.

"He is a shepherd," she says. "His caring and concern for fellow veterans is outstanding. He keeps track of them and stays in touch with them to make sure they are OK. He's familiar with all of their issues and problems."

Retired, Smith devotes his life to helping other veterans. He also stays in touch with the parents and other relatives of soldiers who died in Vietnam.

"Everything I learned in the hospital I try to pass on to the other vets," Smith says. "We have got to help each other, because no one else understands us."

Vietnam vet - and fellow Wolfhound, though not in Smith's company - Merrill Sellers found Smith on a Wolfhound Web site.

They've since become fast friends.

"I e-mailed 'Easy' and found out that we were both in Sacramento," Sellers says. "Once you find people, you don't want to lose them."

Sellers, Smith and about nine other Wolfhounds have lunch at the memorial once a month.

           "We feel that there is a benefit for veterans who have a lot of stuffed feelings to get together," Sellers says. "There is a camaraderie that allows us to talk about things. It's like expanding the family again. It's a way to try to mend those severed feelings and bring them back."

Smith says his real healing started when he visited the Veterans Memorial in Capitol Park in 1996 and then the Wall - the National Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington, D.C. - later that year.

"The walk up to that Wall was the longest walk I had ever taken," he says.

Once there, Smith pored over the names of the soldiers who died in the Vietnam War, looking for the names of men he knew. He was flustered, however, because he couldn't remember many of the first names of the men he had served with. Not even his best friend, who had died in combat.

             It was three years of visiting the Wall before Smith ever spoke to anyone he saw there. But then he started connecting with other veterans. Their common experiences were their bond.

"No one except one who has experienced it can understand how it feels to wake up every day knowing that you are going to kill someone or get killed," he says.

Smith had communicated by phone and e-mail with others who had served in his unit, but he had yet to meet up with someone who had been there with him.

Last year it finally happened.

"I hadn't seen my friend since the day I got shot, September 4, 1967," Smith says. "I was at the Wall in D.C. and I was getting ready to view the 10th anniversary ceremony for the Women's Memorial.

"I see this figure out of the corner of my eye and I was scared to look at him because I knew it was him.

"As I turned to look at him, he said, 'Weren't you with the 27th?'

"I yelled his name, 'Ingram!' "

Luther Ingram, who lives in Philadelphia, served in the same unit with Smith and was on the battlefield when Smith was injured.

He never knew what happened to Smith after the medics took him away.

"I never would have imagined I would have run into him," Ingram says. "Seeing 'Easy' has definitely helped me deal with the scars of Vietnam. I'm not wondering what happened to my friend and where he is anymore. I now know that he is doing all right. Unlike so many others, this is one chapter in my life that has been closed and completed."

For both men the meeting was emotional.

"I told myself that I wouldn't cry if I found one of the men I had served with," Smith says. "I fooled myself."

But the tears and the memories have helped Smith.

"Through the process of remembering, I've gotten to be proud of what I did," Smith says. "And I am reminded that each man is just another man and it is not about the color of his skin. That's how it was in Vietnam."

"A nation reveals itself not only by the citizens it produces, but also by the citizens it honors, the citizens it remembers."

Scenic Vietnam

Units

§                                  HHC - "Headhunters"

§                                  A Company - "Wild Bunch"

§                                  B Company - "Mad Dawgs"

§                                  B Company - "Cobra"

     D Company - "Dragons"

1st Battalion, 9th Infantry (Mechanized) is a Bradley Infantry Battalion, and proud holder of the nickname MANCHU-6. The battalion is currently stationed 20 kilometer north of Uijongbu on Camp Hovey, one of 17 Camps within the 2D Infantry Division. It is assigned to the Army's only Light/Heavy Brigade, the 2d Strike Brigade, with two Air Assault Battalions (1-503rd AA & 1-506th AA).

Bases for the 9th Infantry Division Vietnam

"Bearcat" = Camp Martin Cox

Tan An East and Tan An West

Rach Kein

Can Guioc

Dong Tam

Bien Phouc

French Fort

FSB Moore

FSB Schroeder

FSB Dirk

FSB Danger

Xuan Loc

Tan Tru

Ben Luc

  Magazine  Map

I had Two older Brothers that Served in the Vietnam conflict. My oldest Brother Leo J. Geer was Drafted in the Military in late 1964. He served with The 9th Inf in `65 & `66 in The republic of Viet Nam.    My other brother Robert F. Geer volunteered and served in 67, 68 & 69, in Viet Nam with The 223rd Combat Group But their Bothstill Legs!!!   I, Served With The Herd in 68 69.

                Forest Gump Goes to Heaven

            The day finally arrives; Forest Gump dies and goes to Heaven. He is at the Pearly Gates, met by St. Peter himself. However, the gates are closed and Forest approaches the Gatekeeper.

  St. Peter says, "Well, Forest, it's certainly good to see you. We have heard a lot about you. I must tell you, though, that the place is filling up fast, and we've been administering an entrance examination for everyone. The test is short, but you have to pass it before you can get into Heaven.

   Forest responds, "It sure is good to be here St.Peter, sir. But,

nobody ever told me about any entrance exam. I sure hope the test isn't too hard; life was a big enough test as it was."

   St. Peter goes on, "Yes, I know Forest, but the test is only three questions. First: "What two days of the week begin with the letter T? Second: "How many seconds are there in a year? Third: 'What is God's first name?"

   Forest leaves to think the questions over. He returns the next day and sees St. Peter who waves him up and says, "Now that

you have had a chance to think the questions over, tell me your answers."

   Forest says, "Well, the first one -- which two days in the week begin with the letter 'T?" Shucks, that one's easy. That'd be Today and Tomorrow."

   The Saint's eyes open wide and he exclaims, "Forest, that's not what I was thinking, but you do have a point, and I guess I didn't specify, so I'll give you credit for that answer. How about the next one?" asks St. Peter. "How many seconds in a year?"

   Forest says, "Well, that one's easy, too. That'd be twelve."

  Astounded, St. Peter says, "Twelve? Twelve!? Forest, how in Heaven's name could you come up with twelve seconds in a year?"

   Forest says "Shucks, there's gotta be twelve: January 2nd, February 2nd, March 2nd..."

   Hold it," interrupts St. Peter. "I see where you're going with this, and I see your point, though that wasn't quite what I had in mind, but I'll have to give you credit for that one, too. Let's go on with the third and final question. Can you tell me God's first name"?

   Sure" Forest replied, "its Andy."

   "Andy?!" exclaimed an exasperated and frustrated St. Peter. Ok, I can understand how you came up with your answers to my

first two questions, but just how in the world did you come up with the name Andy as the first name of God?"

   Shucks, that was the easiest one of all," Forest replied. I learnt it from the song..."ANDY WALKS WITH ME, ANDY TALKS WITH ME, ANDY TELLS ME I AM HIS OWN. . ."

   St. Peter opened the Pearly Gates and said, 

                            "Run Forest, Run"

Scenic Vietnam

Trooper Stays - Saves Squad

   Editor's Note: in times of war men have to become self-sufficient, reliable, and hard. They learn to take care of themselves and their buddies. They rely on and trust each other because that's the best chance of surviving.
  Built up around this trust is an unspoken code. A man will never leave another GI. He'll go anywhere, anytime, any cost... to save another GI. There are soldiers that believe in his so much that they'll die rather than betray that trust. That's a true "fighting man."

  LZ UPLIFT (RVN)- On November 20 a seven man patrol left the night perimeter of B Co, 3d Bn, 503d Inf, to conduct a limited reconnaissance of the area.
  Proceeding on a jungle trail, the team discovered fresh footprints. Cautioning his men to the danger, Sgt 'Flea' Bishop, of Miami, took the point position. As they moved cautiously up the trail Bishop became more and more worried, something was drastically wrong. The usual jungle noises were missing. Someone had to be nearby.
  At this point the patrol broke out of the jungle into a clearing covered with seven-foot elephant grass. Bishop left his men near the wood line and he went forward alone, not wanting to risk his men in the open area. A quick check revealed nothing. Still, he was worried. If a man is to live long in the jungle he doesn't ignore his hunches.
  Walking back through the elephant grass Bishop felt eyes on him. He was still nervous. When his men formed into a single file, ready to cross the area at his beckon, he waved them back.
  That's when the NVA blew their ambush. They had carefully prepared the little clearing as a death trap. Only a hunch had kept the Paratroopers from walking right into a 'U' shaped ambush. As it was they were caught just at the mouth of the 'U'. Grenades exploded, rifles cracked, and the Red machine guns chattered. The Communists fired withering fire down into the Paratroopers positions.

  A grenade exploded next to Sp4 Clifford (Butch) Casady, blowing him back off a natural embankment, destroying his M-16. Crawling back, his ears ringing and a little deaf from the blast, Casady continued to fight with his sole remaining weapon... grenades.
  The Troopers heard their M60 machine gun open up. Sp4 Dennis Ziebarth, of Billings Montana, had been carrying the machine gun. He was putting down an amazing amount of fire. His accurate firepower stunned the Reds, allowing his buddies to crawl to better positions. After the fierce exchange with NVA gunners, the machine gun fell silent.

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