The Other Side of the Clouds

December 6, 1967 was a day that changed my life. It was to be a very common eagle flight, eight UH1B helicopter troop transports, enough to move seventy or eighty combat-loaded men;  a short helicopter ride and a walk through the rice paddies. Simply hit the landing zone (lz) and sweep the area clear of any Viet Cong that might be in the area. A firefight was not expected; in fact this mission was deemed so benign, that our catholic Chaplain, Chaplain Angelo Martinez was allowed to go on the flight. Every evening at the command briefing, the Chaplain asked permission to be on the next day’s operation, and everyday he was denied. Finally, this mission seemed so safe I think the General would have allowed his mother to board the helicopter. Chaplain Martinez was a soldier’s friend. When he could not get the troops to attend Sunday Services, he visited the Enlisted Men’s club, not to preach, but to listen. Many of the men suffered from anxiety, some from fear, and many of them were strung out on drugs. Angelo Martinez sat with them, sometime enjoying a beer, and offered an ear and an understanding heart. He always had a story to tell. He could make light of any situation. He often poked fun at himself as a way to be on the same level with his young friends. He made them laugh, and helped them forget their troubles, even for just a little while.  Everyone knew him, and everyone liked and respected him. He was a soldier’s Chaplain.

When the choppers arrived at the landing zone, the door-gunners opened fire at the tree line. We called the Viet Cong ‘Charlie’. If Charlie were in there, they were being sprayed with a hail of bullets. When we reached the ground, we scattered in all directions. Each rifle squad was assigned a zone and we headed for that area. The Chaplain and I were told to stay with the company commander and the first sergeant. The choppers finished unloading their cargo of men and lifted off to return to base. Suddenly, all was very quiet. Then the squad leaders began shouting out their commands. “Everybody up, move out!” We were headed for that tree line to begin a sweep of the area. Then the silence was shattered by the crack and roar of AK-47 automatic machinegun fire. Several men fell immediately. Men were being hit from the front, the rear and both sides. It was quickly discovered that we were surrounded. The landing zone was in the middle of a North Vietnam Army base camp. I don’t know how many there were, but we were surely out-numbered by many times our numbers

The radio transmitter operator (RTO) began calling for gunship assistance and medevac helicopters. More soldiers were hit as the firing grew heavier. Chaplain Martinez ran to pull a wounded man to safety, then another and another. Only a few minutes had passed before the first medevac helicopters arrived, but it seemed like hours. The gun fire was so loud, and the screaming of wounded men pierced my ears into numbness. We were under attack, receiving fire from all directions. I saw the Chaplain moving yet another wounded man when he himself got hit. I went over to where he was and discovered that he had been hit three or four times, and he continued to run towards the cry of screaming men. I helped Chaplain Martinez load the wounded onto the medevac chopper, when he collapsed. He had lost so much blood he could not stand. The company commander ordered me on to the helicopter also. “Take care of the Chaplain,” he shouted. On the way to the 40^th Medevac hospital, I administered first aid to the Chaplain. There wasn’t much I could do. I had used his first aid wrap to cover his wounds. But there were many wounds and I thought he might bleed to death before we arrived at the 40^th medevac. There were other men on the chopper who were very badly shot up. They were probably going to die. I used the first aid wrap from two of the other men to try to save the Chaplain. I was trying to stop the bleeding as best I could. His fate was no longer in my hands. I didn’t die that day, and I don’t know why. Chaplain Angelo Martinez was treated at the 40^th medevac then he was flown to Japan where he recovered. He was awarded the Medal of Honor for his bravery under fire and total disregard for his own safety while saving the lives of wounded men. A few days later when things quieted down, I looked back to what had happened and I knew I would not die in Vietnam. I had been spared because my dream had not yet come to fruition. I had not yet seen the other side of the clouds.