The 21st of October 1944 saw the first city inside Nazi Germany to fall to the Allies. U.S. troops captured Aachen, the historical capital of Charlemagne, in 19 days of fighting. The Wehrmacht took a beating at Aachen, losing two divisions and taking irreplaceable losses from eight more. The Americans also had a corridor into the Ruhr Basin, the Third Reich’s industrial nerve center.
Among the Americans who captured Aachen was Lt. Robert E. Brown, a longtime Army veteran who first enlisted in 1918. The Army knew him officially as Bobbie Brown because he’d signed his name that way when joining at age 15. When the United States entered World War II, he was a unit First Sergeant, but as a talented athlete and leader, he was ready to go. He had no idea he would become a one-man bunker buster.
Brown had fought in North Africa with Gen. George S. Patton’s 2nd Armored Division, landed on Omaha Beach on D-Day, and fought his way into Germany. During the North African campaign, Brown received a battlefield commission, and he became company commander when his old commander was killed in France.
By the time the U.S. Army drove toward the Siegfried Line and into Germany, Brown had been in the Army for 26 years. He and his veteran riflemen were more than ready to bring the fight to the German heartland. It started with an attack on Crucifix Hill, near the German town of Haaren.
Crucifix Hill was littered with dozens of pillboxes and bunkers, for which Company C, 18th Infantry of the 1st Infantry Division, led by Brown, was responsible for taking out. After a morning attack from the air, the Germans fired an intense artillery barrage at the Americans. Brown knew he had to move his company forward over the hill before the artillery slaughtered his men.
Brown and his company began the assault on Crucifix Hill through a graveyard at its base.
When they immediately took heavy German machine gun fire, Brown called for flamethrowers, pole charges, and satchel charges. When the charges arrived, Brown’s men laid down covering fire as their leader crawled toward the fortifications.
He crawled through a hail of bullets and artillery shells as he made his way to the first pillbox with a pole charge. Seconds after running the pole through the pillbox window, it exploded. He crawled back to his unit, retrieved another pole charge, and led his men to the next position. Now, mortars and small arms fire joined the deadly storm on Company C. He ran forward and threw the charge into the enemy position.
With the second one destroyed, he could see a third one pinning down his company. He went back to get another explosive and advanced on the enemy pillbox that was pouring fire on him as he moved. He crawled through the hailstorm and finally tossed the explosive inside, silencing it for good.
On his way back, he was wounded by a mortar shell but refused to be evacuated. Brown and C Company began cleaning up the hill when he realized he had no idea what was beyond the hill. He went out alone to assess the situation and intentionally drew enemy fire so he could reconnoiter the enemy positions. He was wounded two more times for this effort.
Not only did his company clear the enemy positions on the other side, but because of his recon of the far side of the hill, they were able to fight off a couple of counter-attacks. When Crucifix Hill was secured, the Allied ring around Aachen was complete. Brown then allowed himself to be treated for his wounds.
The city fell to the Allies 13 days later. Brown was promoted to Captain and received the Medal of Honor from President Harry S. Truman in August of 1945. He was wounded 13 times in all during the war. He stayed in the Army for a total of 34 years, retiring in 1952. After his retirement, he became a janitor at the U.S. Military Academy at West Point.
Sadly, his injuries, combined with the post-traumatic stress disorder of so much time spent in combat, forced Bobbie Brown to take his own life in 1971. He was interred in Arlington National Cemetery.
The Battle of Antietam is long remembered as the bloodiest day in U.S. military history. More than 3,500 men were killed at Antietam, more than 17,000 were wounded, and thousands more were missing or captured by the end of the fight.
It shouldn't have been this way. Before the two sides met near Antietam Creek on September 17th, 1862, two Union soldiers discovered the entire enemy battle plan wrapped in a bunch of cigars. Union Gen. George B. McClellan had the chance to knock out each part of Confederate Gen. Robert E. Lee's divided Army but didn't.
Although the outcome was technically a win for the Union, as they repelled a Confederate invasion of the north, the battering both sides took for such a small tactical victory seems disproportionate even today. Robert E. Lee's Army of Northern Virginia was forced to abandon this particular invasion of the north, but there would be others.
The question remains, why was Antietam so bloody?
By the Autumn of 1862, the Civil War was not going well for the Union. Following up on a victory at the Second Battle of Bull Run, Lee invaded Maryland on September 3rd, assuming Marylanders were sympathetic to the Confederate cause. They were wrong.
When the Army of the Potomac came marching through the streets of Maryland towns and cities, it was cheered and welcomed. To make matters worse, the 87,000-strong Union Army dwarfed the size of Lee's 55,000 men. Confederate leaders, determined to gain European recognition, demanded a significant victory on Union soil, so Lee marched anyway.
When the two sides met, the rebels were positioned behind the creek, covered by stone fences and natural defenses that provided cover. The only problem was its only line of retreat was blocked by the Potomac River. Moreover, the rebel Army numbered only 18,000, just as the battle plan said it would.
The Union Army, now three times the size of the Confederates, might have been swept away had McClellan launched an attack at the earliest possible time, but he was afraid it was a trap and thought Lee had 100,000 men in reserves nearby. He waited two days to begin the fight, which gave the Confederates ample time to build defenses and for two more divisions to arrive on the battlefield.
When the attack did
come, McClellan planned to overwhelm the rebel left flank with overwhelming numbers. Watching the Union Army move into position, Lee realized what would happen and reinforced his left flank. A series of critical errors on McClellan's part would turn the battle into a meat grinder. Rather than launch a coordinated assault against the rebels, McClellan, who oversaw the battle from nearly a mile away, essentially executed three separate attacks.
In the morning, the Union forces assaulted the northern end. Gen. Joseph Hooker led the assault of an equally-matched force under Confederate Gen. Thomas "Stonewall" Jackson. An artillery duel broke out in the early morning, followed by a bloody stalemate between the two sides. After two hours, not much of the cornfield changed hands.
As more and more reinforcements from both sides poured into the battle, they were gunned down in turn by enemy troops. The Union attack here was as uncoordinated as the overall strategy. By 10 in the morning, 13,000 men were casualties.
At midday, the fighting moved to the center of the line, which was fighting from a sunken road that formed a natural trench against an attack. A series of three attacks over the course of an hour against the sunken road caused more than a thousand casualties. It wasn't until the fifth Union assault that the Confederate began to buckle. The Federal troops advanced far enough to form an enfilade against the men in the makeshift trench.
Though an artillery barrage briefly lifted the enfilade, the Union forces broke the rebel center. It was an opportunity to split the Confederate line in two if the Union pressed its advantage - but McClellan did not support pressing the advantage. After 1 in the afternoon, the fighting shifted south once more. Five thousand men were casualties in the center.
The main attack was still in the north on the rebels' left flank, but McClellan called for an attack in the south to move Confederate forces away from the northern area. For most of the morning, Gen. Ambrose Burnside had been attempting to capture a key bridge, despite outnumbering the Confederate defenders in the area four to one.
When they finally took the bridge, it became a bottleneck for Union troops crossing the river. They forgot to bring ammunition for the cannons, wagons had difficulty navigating the bridge, and the whole mess took two hours, giving the Confederates enough time to retreat and call up reinforcements from other areas - including Harper's Ferry, some 17 miles away.
The green troops at the head of the Union advance broke and ran in the face of the new Confederate troops. Newly-arrived rebels enveloped the leading elements under Gen. A.P. Hill. Burnsides' men were forced back to the bridge.
By 5:30 p.m., it was all over. The piecemeal attacks on Lee's rebel Army allowed the general to shift his troops all day to support the bulk of the fighting where it was taking place. He mounted a defense that his limited resources of men and materiel shouldn't have been able to in an orchestrated assault.
The result was the bloody stalemate at Antietam that caused more than 22,000 casualties on both sides. The rebel Army was as battered as the Federal force and would have to retreat into Virginia, giving the victory to the Union. However, more victories like the one at Antietam might have cost the Union the war.
There are many historical military places where you can experience ghostly specters, cold spells, and reports of things moving around all by themselves. Ghostly cavalry forces still protect F.E. Warren Air Force Base, Wyoming. Houses on Fort Leavenworth feature terrifying child ghosts. Baltimore's Fort McHenry is a veritable who's who of the afterlife, with reports of people seeing Abraham Lincoln, Edgar Allen Poe, and even Chief Black Hawk.
Nowhere in the U.S. military, however, is more haunted than Okinawa. This little island packs possibly the most Halloween haunts into 463 square miles and does it all year round. Here are a few reasons why.
1. Kadena Base H
ousing Building 2283
No single place on earth was more haunted than Kadena Air Base's housing number 2283. Although it's long gone now (they say it was demolished, but it probably imploded like the house in "Poltergeist"), no one could stay there, and those who did ended up dying in a murder-suicide.
The first murder-suicide happened sometime in the 1970s. After the second murder-suicide, the Air Force stopped putting families in the house because it seemed hazardous to their health. Despite it being famously empty, people walking by could hear children crying, ghostly laughter, and the sound of a woman washing her hair in the sink.
Little kids at the daycare next door would throw their toys to the kids on the other side of the fence, kids that definitely did not exist. Reports of running water, objects moving inside, and even a spectral glow came from residents. When a samurai warrior rode through the living room one day, the Air Force finally tore it down. Even then, the workers complained of hallucinations and on-the-job accidents in alarming numbers.
2. Old Gate 3 gets very old visitors
Marine Corps gate guards began to refuse to guard Camp Hansen's Gate 3 so often that the base closed the gate down entirely. They claimed the number of Japanese troops at the gate was disturbing since they were from World War II and might pose a danger to the Marines guarding it decades after the war ended.
If the threat of a ghostly banzai charge wasn't enough, they also routinely reported a figure dressed as a World War II-era Marine, bloodied and wounded, who would come up to the guard house and ask for a light for a cigarette. Once someone gives him a light, he vanishes. This reportedly happened every weekend until the gate was closed.
3. Kadena's Golf Course Cave
While the Battle of Okinawa raged in World War II, the site now Kadena's Banyan Tree golf course was used as a field hospital by the Japanese defenders. After the Americans captured the island's airfields and defeat appeared imminent, Japanese nurses are said to have fled into the caves near the hospital, fearful of what the U.S. troops might do to them. There, they committed suicide.
Now, Okinawans won't go anywhere near the caves, fearful of the angry spirits of the nurses who are said to reside there and appear occasionally. However, those interested in seeing the caves can visit one of the island's many ghost tours.
4. The Maeda Point Ghost of Death
No, it's not a ghost of the Grim Reaper himself, but legend has it that Maeda Point is inhabited by the spirit of an old man who only walks about near a tomb on the water's edge. Reports say that those who see the elderly Okinawans know there will be a body washing ashore in the coming days.
Maeda Point is not only the location of another Japanese field hospital during WWII, but it's also where many people have committed suicide by jumping off the cliff. Some say divers in the waters below the point have encountered swimming ghosts, eternally trapped in the water or jumping off the cliff repeatedly for eternity.
The Naval Mobile Construction Battalions are perhaps one of the most misunderstood military units across the armed forces. More commonly known as Seabees, these units are a reasonably new phenomenon with only eighty years of shared history. And surprisingly, this force has been redesignated multiple times to embrace the spirit of their mission and contend with political maneuvering among US Naval and Marine infrastructure. Moreover, as a support organization, the Seabees are typically not front-page news despite a multi-faceted mission commitment, including clandestine assignments and ongoing combat readiness, the very underpinning of their existence. Before WWII, civilian contractors were used for construction purposes in the Pacific, but under international law, civilians were prohibited from defending themselves in the event of hostile action. To resolve this, Rear Admiral Ben Moreell pursued authorization in December 1941 to create a specialized support unit for US Navy and Marine forces in remote and punishing environments. Initially titled United States Naval Construction Battalions (USNCB), these engineers seized on the abbreviation CB to create the Seabee moniker and official motto "Construimus Batuimus"- We Build, We Fight. And for Seabee Battalion 11 fight, they have performed with distinction from WWII through Iraq and Afghanistan.
From their inception, Seabee Battalions were activated in numerical succession, giving rise to Naval Construction Battalion 11 at Camp Allen, a Marine Corps Training Base in Norfolk, Virginia, on June 28, 1942. During WWII, the unit deployed to more than seven duty stations, including Samoa (10 months), New Caledonia (5 months), New Zealand (1 month), Banika (2.5 months), Los Negros (6 months), Port Hueneme (6 months), and Philippines (5 months). Across these venues, the 11th Battalion completed various construction projects, including Amphibious Training Center, Marine Railway, airfield, hospital, dam and reservoir, and three repair bases for landing craft, seaplanes, and fleet ships.
Actively supporting actions to retake Japanese-held islands, the Seabees periodically worked in combat conditions to complete their mission. The Admiralty Islands Campaign (Operation Brewer) was one such case, a series of battles in the broader New Guinea Campaign beginning with Los Negros, the third largest island in the chain. Reconnaissance advised McArthur the Japanese had evacuated the island, accelerating invasion timetables but staggering US forces to find quite the opposite when landings commenced. Following eighty days of vicious fighting, the US was able to declare victory.
With the war over in 1945, Construction Battalion 11 was inactivated on December 1, 1945, at Subic Bay, Philippines. For their contributions to the war effort, the unit earned seven Unit Letters of Commendation, including Fleet Admiral William Halsey, a Brigadier General, Rear Admiral, Major General, and Navy Commodore. But, despite their accomplishments, for Mobile Construction Battalion 11, the greatest challenges were still ahead.
The 1950s presented new and novel issues raised by the Cold War and an eagerness for confrontation by the Superpowers. Manifesting as the Korean War from June 1950 to July 1953, UN forces then readied themselves for what would prove to be the longest and third most deadly war in US history- Vietnam. As a practical matter, the Vietnam War began a full ten years earlier than the political agenda acknowledged and commensurated with US troops placed in harm's way. Seabees were among the first Americans to deploy to Vietnam, with their first mission happening as early as 1955. They built refugee camps in the 1950s and sent Seabee Teams to work alongside the Green Berets and other advisors. But some of their most heroic exploits wouldn't come until they started building clandestine Special Forces camps deep in the jungles of Vietnam.
With the advancing need for experienced construction forces in Southeast Asia, Naval Mobile Construction Battalion 11 was reactivated in August 1953 at Port Hueneme, CA. However, the Battalion did not deploy to Korea and Instead returned to its last WWII duty station, Subic Bay, followed by other principle US interests (Midway, Guam, Okinawa, and Kwajalein). In the Philippines, the unit completed the removal of a mountain dubbed "the rock," expending some two million manhours to finish the project and enable the building of a 10,000-foot runway on the base. In doing so, NMCB 11 set a record for the number of piles driven in a single day. Then unexpectedly, in 1957, Seabee 11 was deployed to Adak, Alaska, to lead relief and recovery efforts from devastation created by a 9.1 magnitude earthquake and three days of 7.0+ aftershocks. Requiring six months duration, the Battalion then moved to Okinawa and other assignments. In late January 1965, the unit again made history when it redeployed to Okinawa, the first Mobile Construction Battalion to deploy by air. For its accomplishments, Seabee 11 earned the Battle Efficiency Award ("Battle E") for four out of five years.
Seabee Technical Assistance Teams (STAT) with Secret Clearances were sent to Vietnam to assist the US Army's Special Forces in the CIA-funded Civilian Irregular Defense Group program (CIDG), including three teams from CB 11; 1103, 1104, and 1105. In February 1965, STAT 1104 was sent to Ben Soi, Vietnam, where they built a camp for US Special Forces. On the heels of this project, in June, Team 1104 was assigned the construction of another new camp at Dong Xoài, an assignment that would become military history. So, nine members of STAT 1104 departed Ben-Soi to join eleven men of the 5th Special Forces Group, A Team 342 at Đồng Xoài.
The camp at Đồng Xoài had two adjoining compounds; Green Berets, Seabees, and over two hundred Montagnards in one, and more than two hundred RVN Army in the other. Unforeseen, on the night of June 9, over two thousand Viet Cong attacked. During the ensuing battle, the combined Green Beret-Seabee force suffered three KIA and sixteen wounded, with nearly all RVN Army and Montagnards becoming casualties. In the melee Steelworker, 2nd Class William C. Hoover became the first Seabee to lose his life in Vietnam. Though already wounded twice, CM3 Marvin Glenn Shields carried a critically wounded soldier, Captain William N. Stokes III, to safety and then volunteered to carry ammo for 1st Lt Charles Q. Williams to assault a machine-gun position. Taking the position with deadly mortar
fire, both men were wounded again while returning to their lines, proving fatal for Shields. The next day, nearly out of ammunition and under heavy fire, the survivors were extracted by three Hueys and a gunship from the 118th Aviation Company. In the confusion, LTJG Peterlin and EOC McCully were separated and left behind but survived the night and were awarded Silver Stars. For their actions, both Shields and Williams were awarded the Medal of Honor, while other team members all received Bronze Stars with V device for valor, and Seabee Team 1104 received the Navy Unit Commendation. The only Seabee to ever be awarded the Medal of Honor, Marvin Shields was posthumously awarded the Republic of Vietnam Gallantry Cross with Palm and the Military Merit Medal. For their part, the Seabees named their bases at Chu Lai, Vietnam, and Okinawa "Camp Shields" and their base in Da Nang for SW2 William Hoover.
In February 1966, NMCB 11 became the first Battalion deployed into a Vietnam combat zone on a C-141, arriving at Camp Adenir, Danang East. After landing, they undertook expansion of the Naval Hospital by constructing an x-ray building, fire station, generator building, Quonset-type wards, and roads. While under enemy sniper fire, CB 11's Seabees also built a Marine containment camp deep in hostile territory but would prove only the beginning of their commitment. Between 1967 and 1969, the "Lucky Eleventh" was deployed to Vietnam for four consecutive tours. During deployment in early summer 1967, the Battalion was exposed to the most severe combat since WWII, receiving 138 attacks involving rockets, ambushes, snipers, and mines, sustaining 64 WIA and 5 KIA. During this same deployment, an airfield was urgently needed at Quảng Trị. The project was designated top secret, Site "X," and was needed in under 45 days. To meet this timing, MCBs 1, 3, 4, 7, 11, 74, 121, and 133 all sent detachments of men and equipment. This provisional unit adopted the name
"Ghost Battalion" and chose the Jolly Roger for the Battalion's colors. The project, first believed to be no problem, quickly presented an unexpected hurdle - half of the airfield contained 11,000 unmarked graves. With one week left to complete the assignment, the Seabees enlisted Vietnamese civilians to assist in removing the burials.
The second tour presented an opportunity for the 11th to have a meaningful impact on the quality of life in combat zones. Alongside new construction and repair of National Routes 1 and 9, the Battalion constructed 7.5 miles of new road and built four bridges spanning up to 392 feet in length. However, the unit's largest task was a Minimum Essential Requirements (MER) project geared to improving living conditions for combat units. Over a six-month period, CB 11 built over two thousand structures, reaching a total present-day cost of $90 million.
In 1969 and completing their fourth tour, the 11th Battalion had three main deployment sites: Vietnam, Okinawa, and Guam. With two-thirds of the force sent to Vietnam, the main projects were roads and bridges, one of which was a destroyed railway bridge built by the French at Song Bo. There, crews came under enemy fire in the attempt to stop the repairs, earning these engineers the Navy Combat Action Ribbon. In Okinawa, Typhoon Cora hit in August 1969, damaging much of its infrastructure. Seabee 11 acted immediately to restore utilities and repair damaged buildings and roads.
Shortly after the Battalion pulled out of Vietnam and Guam, NMCB 11 was decommissioned in Port Hueneme on December 15, 1969, having earned an additional five Unit Letters of Commendation and leaving behind a legacy of distinguished performance, selfless commitment to purpose, and valor. But for CB 11, the story continues. In 2007, Naval Mobile Construction Battalion 11 was reactivated for deployment to Iraq and Afghanistan, in addition to humanitarian and relief efforts. Home ported at the Naval Construction Battalion Center in Gulfport, Mississippi, Lucky Eleven continues the unit's heritage of firsts as the first US SMART Battalion, leading the way with many new initiatives and changes being implemented to improve Naval Construction Force operations.
Kadena Air Base on the Japanese island of Okinawa is one of the U.S. military's most storied overseas postings. It was first captured from the Japanese during World War II and has been in continuous use ever since. It's also alarmingly haunted.
One of its base housing units was believed to be the site of a murder-suicide in the 1970s and has been haunted ever since. One of the base's gates gets a regular ghostly visitor in uniform asking for someone to light a cigarette. There's also the spectral figure of an old Japanese man that will murder someone else if he sees you.
Kadena Air Base is the home of the 18th Wing, an Air Force unit that predates World War II. The legend of the Kadena Chicken is based on the 18th Wing's insignia, which features a black chicken, with its wings held high on a yellow background mixed with the unit's history during the Korean War. The legend is pretty gruesome, but luckily for the Air Force, it's also completely false.
By the end of November 1950, the Korean War was not going well for North Korea. United Nations forces had almost pushed the Communist North Koreans to the Yalu River, its border with China. On Dec. 1, 1950, the 18th Fighter-Bomber Wing deployed to an air base near Pyongyang from its home in the Philippines to support the UN move north.
While the 18th was getting settled near North Korea's capital city, the Chinese People's Volunteer Army intervened in the war and began pushing the UN back toward the 38th parallel. The UN made its "fighting withdrawal" against the overwhelming force as it moved south at a rapid pace.
The speed with which the UN was forced to move caught many by surprise. By Christmas Eve 1950, 100,000 UN troops and 14,000 North Korean refugees had to be evacuated at the port of Hungnam, on the peninsula's east coast, or be destroyed. The (untrue) Legend of the Kadena Chicken begins around the same time, back in Pyongyang.
Pyongyang sits on the opposite side of the peninsula, pretty deep inside North Korea. It's said that the 18th Wing was surprised by the Communist counterattack and its pilots abandoned the airmen on the ground, evacuating the base in their aircraft. The ground crews were left undefended and faced the combined Chinese-North Korean assault on their own.
Reprisals from the Communists were said to be brutal. The men of the 18th Wing who were not killed outright were tortured and executed, with some hanging from the rafters of their aircraft hangers.
As a punishment, the story goes, the 18th Wing was forbidden from having a home station in the continental United States. The further humiliation comes in the form of its insignia: a chicken with its wings in the air, surrendering on a yellow background to remind the 18th forever of its cowardice in the face of the enemy.
None of this ever happened. The 18th Fighter-Bomber Wing also evacuated in the face of the Chinese intervention, first moving to Suwon Air Base (a few miles from today's Osan Air Base) and then being forced to Jinhae Naval Base on the peninsula's southern tip. An alternate version of the story says the Americans fled in disgrace from Suwon.
Except the Americans didn't flee in terror at all. The 18th received a Republic of Korea Presidential Unit Citation for damaging or destroying thousands of enemy vehicles. Aircraft from the 18th Fighter-Bomber Wing was in Korea for the duration of the war, only moving to Kadena Air Base on Okinawa in 1954. It earned the unit the nickname "truck busters."
As for the cowardly chicken, it predates the Korean War. It was chosen in 1927 and first approved for use by the Army Air Corps in 1931 when the unit was still called the 18th Pursuit Squadron. The "chicken" isn't a chicken at all; it's a fighting gamecock. The unit motto, "unguibus et rostro," is Latin for "talons and beak," meaning the unit fights with everything it has at its disposal.
Paranormal enthusiasts who have never actually experienced a ghostly event may get their first chance aboard the USS Hornet. The volunteers who work the ship in Alameda, California, commonly show visitors how their flashlights will turn on by themselves when left alone - but flashlights are just the beginning.
The Hornet (CV-12) is one of the most storied ships in American military history. Built after the start of World War II, it was a U.S. Navy workhorse for the most important campaigns of the war, serving in the fights for New Guinea, Palau, the Marianas, and the Philippines, just to name a few.
Its service didn't end with the war. The Hornet returned to action in South Vietnam during the Vietnam War and was used to recover command modules and crews during the Apollo Program, including the crew that first landed on the moon in 1969.
A ship that earned nine battle stars in World War II is going to carry its share of combat casualties, but the ship also lost an estimated 300 sailors to accidents and suicides throughout its service history. During its tenure, it had one of the highest suicide rates in the Navy. People are still dying by suicide aboard the Hornet, even though it's now a museum ship.
For those who believe in this kind of thing, it's no wonder that the Hornet is considered the most haunted ship in the Navy and one of the most haunted places in America. It's a place where switches allegedly turn on, lockers doors open, and objects move by themselves, often by two feet or more. When you're ready to meet some Navy ghosts, you can see it for yourself.
Pasadena's California Institute of Technology maintains a website for visitors to send in their paranormal experiences and ghost stories while aboard the Hornet. Many of these come from the ship's sleepover events, where visitors stay on the carrier overnight.
On the site, a woman recalls the night her Girl Scout troop spent aboard the Hornet. She and her friend were returning to their berthing (sleeping quarters) after using the head (bathroom). As they passed a galley (kitchen) on the way back to their room, they heard a man scream for help. Later that night, a man entered their room, dressed in khakis. The Girl Scouts cried out in terror and threw a deck of cards that passed right through the man.
Dan Brisker was a Machinist's Mate aboard the Hornet between 1965 and 1969. He was detailed to Fire Control, which required him to spend his watch in the ship's fire rooms. One night, he was having a snack and suddenly heard work being done in a boiler firebox, despite the fact that he was on the graveyard shift and thought he was alone.
As Brisker walked to the firebox to check on the sound, he heard a paint scraper drop to the floor. When he poked his head in the firebox, there was nothing there except the paint scraper.
One family took a private tour of the ship and videotaped all of it. During one segment, they kept noticing a flash of light in the corner of the screen. When they scrolled through the video frame by frame, they discovered it wasn't a flash of light at all. It was the ghostly apparition of a sailor wearing a white shirt with a pack of cigarettes rolled in the sleeve.
Stories like these from visitors to the Hornet abound, whether staying for the night or just visiting for a few hours. This is why ghost stories from the ship regularly appear in the local newspaper, the East Bay Times. Though people hear ghosts calling out their name or see otherworldly shadows moving across the walls, the volunteers who work the ship say that the spirits aboard are benign, if not outright friendly.
Visitors interested in an encounter with Navy veterans of World War II who may not have survived the war can learn more about their service with a paranormal presentation aboard the Hornet. The presentation is followed by an after-dark tour of the ship's ghostly hot spots.
Halloween overnight events begin Friday, Oct. 21, but private overnight stays are available for groups. For more information, visit the USS Hornet Museum website.
During my teenage years, while growing up at home, my Dad would occasionally ask me what I wanted to do with my future. At first, being so young and naive, I didn't know exactly how to answer him. I come from a large family of 5 brothers and four sisters, and I knew I wouldn't afford a college education after high school. During my high school years and even before, my brothers and I would help our Dad in the agricultural fields where we lived in Hanford, California. One thing I knew for sure was that I would not pursue a lifelong career in this type of employment.
One day, to my Dad's relief, I told him I was thinking of joining some branch of the military service. I was always intrigued by and interested in aircraft and enjoyed watching them fly. Finally, I decided to join the U.S. Air Force and was sworn- in on March 2, 1966. The Vietnam War was escalating during this period, and I did not want to be drafted into the U.S. Army. If I was going to end up in Vietnam, I wanted it to be on my terms. As it turned out, that is exactly what happened.
I left for basic training from the induction center in Fresno, California, and arrived at Lackland Air Force Base, Texas, in early May 1966. I remember arriving late at night and began being processed in. While waiting in line to be processed, I noticed one recruit put his handbag on the floor. It did not take long for him to be screamed at by one of the sergeants saying, "Pick up that bag! What have you got in there, money ??" My training instructor was a hard-core E-4 who had lost a stripe for hitting another NCO. His name was Airman First Class Spillman, who had this rugged, rock-jaw look. Our barracks in those days were the old wooden built 2-story type buildings. One day during an inspection, the TI (training instructor) was on the second floor while the rest were at attention on the first floor. Suddenly we heard glass breaking and saw a foot locker come flying out of the 2nd floor. Some recruit messed up so badly that TI got pretty upset about finding a foot locker so out of order. Another time, he searched for inspection tags in our newly issued military clothing. We only had so much time to remove all the tags before inspection. One poor soul somehow had left a lot of tags in the pockets. The TI told him to put the tags in his mouth and turn around. As soon as he did, the TI gave him a hard kick which we could hear from where we stood. I don't know how seriously the recruit was hurt, but I was glad not to be in his shoes.
Before I completed basic training, they had given TI Spillman back his stripe and promoted him back to SSgt. I remember him telling us not to let the same ranking airmen as us push us around once we got to Sheppard, AFB, Texas, where I was going to receive my technical training on the-130 cargo-transport aircraft. Tech school was a unique place. Every day one could witness hundreds of troops from different squadrons marching to and from their respective training classes.
During my time at Sheppard AFB, I volunteered to be a Chaplain's assistant at the Sunday Mass services. Another buddy of mine from Madera, CA, George Chavez, also joined me at the Sunday Mass. Our job was to usher the worshipers to their pews. We were required to wear our 1505's (tan) uniform to the church, which I enjoyed because we could wear a white braided rope around our shoulders. I thought the braid made our uniform look extra sharp. About this same time at Sheppard, AFB, I remember becoming very homesick. I had spent two months in basic training, and I was going to spend another two and one-half months in tech school. This was the first time in my life that I would be separated from my family and friends at home for such a long time. I don't really know why but I found myself missing my brothers mostly. When you grow up as kids and begin to mature as young men, you form such a strong and loving bond. Don't get me wrong; I also missed my sisters and parents.
Toward the end of tech school training, a few other trainees and I learned we would receive PCS (permanent change station) orders for Elmendorf AFB, Anchorage, Alaska, which is under the Alaskan Air Command. This was going to be a 2-year hitch in Alaska. Some of my fellow airmen and I began to form a strong and lasting friendship, and to this day, we still correspond with each other by phone or email.
It took me about 4 to 6 months to get used to the weather environment after arriving in Alaska. I remember being in my summer dress blues when I got off the plane in Anchorage in late September 1966. Talk about an eye-opener! I told myself, "What did I get myself into ?!" But it was only a matter of time before I became accustomed to the cold weather. During the winter months, I recall walking from the chow hall to the Flightline and, on the way listening to my boots making a crunching noise in the freshly fallen snow. The sun would not be up yet, and the surrounding area would be eerily quiet.
While at Elmendorf AFB, we would periodically fly to Sondrestrom, Greenland, to support the DEW (Defense Early Warning) sites on the Greenland ice cap during the "Cold War." This could only be accomplished with our C-130D ski-equipped aircraft. There were 12 C-130's in our squadron at Elmendorf, and we would rotate to Greenland approximately every three months. It seemed like I could never escape the freezing cold weather.
During my two years at Elmendorf, I made some life-long friends with whom I still make contact to this day. After leaving Alaska, many of these same buddies and I were again stationed together for another 18 months at Dyess AFB, Abilene, Texas, under the Tactical Air Command.
Getting back to Alaska, my buddies and I were fortunate enough to meet a Flightline supervisor NCO by the name of John Camacho. He had been in the Air Force many years before us and knew his way around the C-130 and the military as a whole. I remember him taking us on a couple of camping and fishing trips with his family. He seemed to know where all the good camping sites were, and we would get lost in the forests and lakes of Alaska. 
He occasionally told us younger guys that once we left Alaska and ended up at a TAC (Tactical Air Command) base, we would constantly be going TDY (temporary duty) at any given time. As it turned out, that is exactly what happened to me and the few of us that would be stationed together again. We speak highly of John often.
My buddies and I, especially those of us who were younger than 21, were always looking for some form of entertainment during our time off from the Flightline. Sometimes we would designate one of our barracks rooms as the "drinking" or party room for one night, usually on a Friday. We always had plenty of rock and roll and R&B music to listen to and dance to (no women), and by the end of the evening, the floor was covered in spilled beer and hard liquor. Whew! One can imagine what the room smelled like the following day! After we all turned 21 and over, we would make the two-mile trip to downtown Anchorage and patronize the bars there.
I should mention that I learned to snow ski during my time in Alaska. I had never been on a set of skis before, but fortunately, it didn't take me long to stay upright and make some fancy turns. The funny thing about snow skiing.... when you're going 30 miles per hour, it seems like you're going 50 !! Luckily, I never broke a leg. Before leaving Alaska, I was promoted to E-4, Sergeant. Making rank was always welcome because it meant more pay.
One day, one of my very close buddies, Larry Pottorff, asked me if I wanted to be on our squadron football team. He would become our coach and quarterback. I never played football in high school, so I accepted the challenge. I played two positions on the team, center and defensive end. Of course, I got a lot of coaching from Larry, who taught me how to center the football correctly and how to protect him on the offensive line from a defense with guys bigger than me. Although we played flag football, you could never tell by the way a lot of our jerseys got ripped off by the opposing teams......my jersey being one of them. As it turned out, we won 2 championship trophies after the season. Larry and I talk about those days often.
I always considered the C-130 a safe aircraft. After all, it was my job to keep them in safe flying condition. But for all the time I spent flying, there were a few dangerous incidents I would not want to relive. On one occasion, we landed on the Greenland ice cap, but when it came time to depart, the ski-equipped landing gear could not clear the ice for takeoff. The slick ice created a suction on the Teflon bottom of the ski. If we had not been successful on the third takeoff try, we would not have had enough fuel to return to our base, and we would have been stranded on the ice cap for an undetermined amount of time.
Another incident came when we were flying at a high altitude and a "door open" light came on in the flight deck. The pilot began descending the aircraft quickly and also began depressuring the aircraft very rapidly. At first, the crew chief and I were unsure of what was happening, but before long, we felt the effects of hypoxia (lack of oxygen to the brain). We had only one oxygen mask between us, and I remember reaching for the mask in a slow-motion manner. It didn't take long for the fuselage pressure to stabilize, and we finally felt OK.
There would be at least one more incident where I was concerned about my safety. In late 1969 we loaded the cargo compartment full of U.S. Army troops from the 101st Airborne Division from Fort Bragg, North Carolina. We were going to take them on a parachute jump flight from point A to point B. While in mid-flight, I was walking through the cargo compartment when one of the Army troops got my attention. He was pointing to the hydraulic panel behind me. I turned around and saw a pink misty cloud coming from the hydraulic panel. I could tell that it was a hydraulic leak coming from the main landing gear valve. Hydraulic fluid is red, but under 3000 pounds of 
leaking pressure, it releases a pink mist. I was on my radio headset and immediately contacted the flight engineer up on the flight deck. He came down to my location, took one look, and quickly moved back up to the flight deck. Knowing exactly what to do, he turned off the power to the utility hydraulic panel and turned on the power to the booster hydraulic panel. The C-130 comes equipped with a reliable hydraulic backup system. To everyone's relief, the problem was solved.....temporarily at least. I might have given the Army troop the thumbs up at this point. After the flight was over and back on the ground, I assisted the hydraulic specialist in changing the main landing gear valve.
My first TDY from Dyess, AFB, Texas, was to Tachikawa Air Base, Japan, for three months. Although life there would be fast-paced, it was an enjoyable experience. I remember landing at Tachikawa one early January morning in 1969. I could see the orange-colored morning sun shining on Mount Fujiyama. I picked up a few Japanese words and phrases while stationed in Tachikawa. I still use them to this day.
One morning while reporting for roll-call, we were asked if we wanted to volunteer for another temporary assignment to Vietnam. They asked for volunteers to salvage parts off a C-130E that had been damaged by enemy mortar fire on an Army LZ (landing zone). I looked from side to side at my buddies, and we raised our hands, not knowing exactly what we were getting ourselves into. We took off for Vietnam from Japan in the early evening hours and landed in Cam Rahn Bay late at night. In the end, about ten of us landed in the LZ with our combat helmets, M-16 rifles, flak jackets, and toolboxes! After almost a month in Vietnam, I was glad to hear we were finally going back to Japan. I witnessed a few things that reminded me I was in a war zone and was happy to return to Japan. After I was honorably discharged from the Air Force, I decided to write a short story about some of my experiences while in Vietnam. The following is the story titled "My Time In a War Zone," written on September 24, 2012:
"My name is Fred Rodriguez from Hanford, CA. I was trained as a ground maintenance mechanic on the C-130 cargo transport plane in the U.S.Air Force. In January 1969, I received orders for temporary duty to Tachikawa Air Base, Japan. While in Japan, we learned of a C-130 that had been mortared by enemy fire while on the ground at an Army LZ in Vietnam.
About 10 of us volunteered to fly into the LZ to salvage any aircraft parts that were still usable. We first landed in Cam Rahn Bay by the South China Sea. That first night at Cam Rahn, we could hear machine gun fire shattering the dark and quiet night. After staying there overnight, we landed at Tan Son Nhut Air Base outside of Saigon. From there, we would fly to the LZ on a C-123 cargo transport plane, then back to Tan Son Nhut at the end of the day. While recovering parts from the damaged C-130, I also witnessed two other cargo transport planes make a controlled crash landing on the makeshift runway. One was carrying pallets of artillery shells but luckily did not explode. Another plane apparently landed on a chuckhole and blew half of the nose landing gear off, which came dangerously close to me as I witnessed the landing. One of the aircraft was supposed to return us to Tan Son Nhut, but because it was not flyable, we had to stay overnight at the Army LZ. It was an eerie experience to spend the night in a strange and dark jungle surrounding.
By this time, we had already made some buddies with the Army troops who were stationed there. At first, some of the troops found it rather humorous when we would offload from our aircraft with flak vests, combat helmets, M-16 rifles, and toolboxes. One day we were visited by a battalion of South Vietnamese troops passing by. One of these troops was caught stealing some property from one of our troops and was beaten severely with a rubber hose in the dirt and dust by his Commander.
In one other instance, I witnessed a crippled H1 Huey helicopter come in and skid to a stop. A body bag unraveled, and a mangled body of a U.S. soldier fell to the chopper floor. I learned later it was the Door Gunner.
While working on the disabled C-130, I made friends with a Vietnamese boy who looked to be about 9-10 years old and did not speak any English. He would hang out with us (or me mostly) every day we were there. I felt sorry for him because he would always wear the same dirty and oversize t-shirt. It seemed to be the only piece of clothing he had. If I remember correctly, his name was "Bul." I took one snapshot of him and still have it in my military records at home. Sometimes I wonder if he survived the war.
The aircraft recovery process went on for about one month. After accomplishing our mission in Vietnam, it was time to return to Tachikawa, Japan. I felt like Japan was my home compared to being in a war zone, and I was glad to be returning to a non-combat area. It was a good feeling to finally get off the runway at Tan Son Nhut, headed for Tachikawa. After my TDY duty in Japan, we returned to our PCS (permanent change station) duty at Dyess Air Force Base, Texas, around April 1, 1969."
There would be one more 3- month TDY duty overseas: Mildenhall Air Base, England. I have a difficult time remembering what exactly our mission was while in England. I do remember being at the base NCO club on the evening of July 20, 1969. That was the day Neil Armstrong landed on the moon. The club was filled with loud yelling and jubilation after witnessing Armstrong make that first foot impression on the moon. That's one experience that will be difficult to forget.
After returning to Dyess AFB from England in August 1969, I could sense and feel that my time in the Air Force was coming to a close. I had met and become friends with so many different people during my military years, and I was sorry and sad for thinking I would not see them again.
Two or three months before being discharged from the Air Force, I was asked if I wanted to take the NCO Exam to get promoted to E-5, Staff Sergeant possibly. I respectfully declined. But I suppose because of my good record; I was promoted to E-5 one month before my discharge date.
On the last day of my military life, I remember being processed out in the same room with some of the same guys who were with me when I had joined, three years and ten months before. The difference was that we were a lot more mature and older, and some of us wore four stripes on our sleeves instead of no stripes. I remember thinking it was a very long three years and ten months spent but, suddenly, it was over.
I have no regrets about joining the Air Force. The experience taught me many good things, and, as I mentioned before, I made many friends and formed a great relationship with some of the people I met, not only stateside but in other countries as well.
As a military veteran, I try to take advantage of the VA and other benefits I earned as a result of my service to my country.
Fred Rodriguez
14089 1/4 Ave.
Hanford, CA93230
559-904-3362
rodrigf69pu@outlook.com
Greetings!
Wow! It’s hard to believe it’s already October! As we move into the Fall and Winter months, I hope we end this year on a very successful note. I want to thank Chapters and Life Members that recently made Donations to support NCOA Programs. Also, thank you, Magnum Force, Chapter 357, for the Donation to support the initial order of Korean War Medallions. We truly appreciate this kind of support to sustain and enhance our programs.
2022/2023 Membership Focus: Recruiting new members and retaining existing members will always be a priority. Our Goal will remain in signing up 1000 New Members. However, our focus will be on making as many people as possible aware of who we are, what we do, and why it is important to join a Military Service Organization like ours. Chapter Leaders, please host membership drives in your areas. In many cases, all it takes is taking the time to talk about our Association and then “just ask” the prospective member to join - try it.
NCOA Medallion Recognition Programs: WWII Legacy Medallion Program and Korean War Recognition Medallion Program. If you or a member wish to donate funds for a Medallion or get involved, please get in touch with me at jterry@ncoausa.org or visit our NCOA website for details on how to order. These Medallions were designed to recognize those who served during either or both of these Wars or a family member of someone who served.
NCOA Total Force Challenge Coin: The initial order for these Coins has been placed. The minimum Donation per Coin is $16. The Goal is for every member to have at least 1 Coin. Don’t get caught without your Coin!
New Affinity Partners/Resources: Welcome to our newest partners – Walden University, Waldorf University, Patriot Military Automobiles (Germany), Dell Computer, and Women Veterans Alliance. We will be announcing others very soon.
2023 Conference: Tentative date is 17-21 July 2023, with the location to be determined. I encourage Chapters to plan now, well in advance, to get more participation from your members. We will make a deliberate effort to encourage more active duty members not only to attend but also in planning and participation.
Here are some areas I ask you to consider supporting through your actions and financial support:
- Membership Development Program and General support
- WWII Legacy Medallion Program (Ongoing) - Minimum $15.00 donation per Medallion
- Korean War Recognition Medallion Program - First Delivery expected this month. Minimum $23 Donation per Medallion
- NCOA Total Force Challenge Coin - First delivery expected this month. Minimum Donation $16 per Coin
In addition, here are a few things I ask you to continue to support:
• As soon as a member joins, get them involved in the Association immediately.
• Reward/Recognize members and sponsors.
• Make it a habit to regularly visit our Social Media outlets, Website, Facebook, ADVOCATE, etc.
• Make it a goal to sign up at least one new member each month, “Just Ask”!
• Get involved with your local Chapter, reach out to your Chapter Leadership, and ask how you can help.
I am grateful for the opportunity to serve as your Executive Director. Thank you for your support in our Goal to be the Professional Military Service Organization of Choice! There is Strength in Unity™.
Joseph Terry
SGM, U.S. Army (Ret)
Executive Director
www.ncoausa.org
When Gerald Augustine shipped off to Vietnam in 1966, he brought a 1949 Kodak Brownie Hawkeye box camera at the behest of his mother. It turned out to be a great decision.
He used the camera to document his experiences during and after the Vietnam War, and some of these images are included in his new book, "Vietnam Beyond."
A Middletown, Connecticut native, Augustine graduated from high school in 1963 and went on to study at Central Connecticut State University and the University of Connecticut. He was soon drafted into the Army in 1965, serving with the 196th Light Infantry Brigade. On August 4, 1966, he was sent to Vietnam.
Augustine spent much of his time in Southeast Asia in combat. As a machine gunner, this meant ambush patrols, search-and-destroy missions, and helicopter assaults. He got a brief reprieve from the jungles only because an eye injury forced him to go to Saigon for surgery. There, he realized how far removed the South Vietnamese capital was from the war.
When he returned home, he suffered from anxiety attacks, post-traumatic stress disorder, and the lasting effects of Agent Orange, the chemical defoliant used to clear strips of dense jungle canopy that hid and fed the communist enemy.
"Vietnam Beyond" is a glimpse of reality through Augustine's camera, those both beautiful and terrifying, all of which have stuck him over the ensuing decades. He captures his experiences on the front lines of the Vietnam War, writes about his struggles and setbacks, and discusses the effects of Agent Orange on his life and family.
But the book isn't just about his experiences in Vietnam. It captures the life he returned to in 1967. He would move back home to the same street where he grew up and went to school. He worked as an engineer on Pratt & Whitney engines before he took over his father's roofing business. Most importantly, he took the advice of a friend in Vietnam who suggested he would enjoy bodybuilding when he got home.
That's when Augustine began a life of intense physical training and competition. All of his experiences, good and bad, drove him to be the best he could be at everything he encountered in life and allowed him to defeat his personal demons.
In 1975, Augustine won the Mr. New England bodybuilding competition, a grand feat for any competitive athlete, but he didn't stop there. Even as he aged into his 50s, 60s, and 70s, he continued training and competing. The whole time, he struggled with the unseen wounds of his time at war.
Now in his late 70s, Augustine is still a competitor and still lives in Middletown, Connecticut. He is active in local chapters of veteran service organizations and was inducted into the Connecticut Veteran Hall of Fame in 2021.
"Vietnam Beyond" by Gerald E. Augustine is available on Amazon in Kindle and Paperback for $35 or at Barnes and Noble.
Among the Americans who captured Aachen was Lt. Robert E. Brown, a longtime Army veteran who first enlisted in 1918. The Army knew him officially as Bobbie Brown because he’d signed his name that way when joining at age 15. When the United States entered World War II, he was a unit First Sergeant, but as a talented athlete and leader, he was ready to go. He had no idea he would become a one-man bunker buster. 
Brown and his company began the assault on Crucifix Hill through a graveyard at its base. 
Not only did his company clear the enemy positions on the other side, but because of his recon of the far side of the hill, they were able to fight off a couple of counter-attacks. When Crucifix Hill was secured, the Allied ring around Aachen was complete. Brown then allowed himself to be treated for his wounds. 
come, McClellan planned to overwhelm the rebel left flank with overwhelming numbers. Watching the Union Army move into position, Lee realized what would happen and reinforced his left flank. A series of critical errors on McClellan's part would turn the battle into a meat grinder. Rather than launch a coordinated assault against the rebels, McClellan, who oversaw the battle from nearly a mile away, essentially executed three separate attacks.
When they finally took the bridge, it became a bottleneck for Union troops crossing the river. They forgot to bring ammunition for the cannons, wagons had difficulty navigating the bridge, and the whole mess took two hours, giving the Confederates enough time to retreat and call up reinforcements from other areas - including Harper's Ferry, some 17 miles away. 
ousing Building 2283
2. Old Gate 3 gets very old visitors 
3. Kadena's Golf Course Cave
4. The Maeda Point Ghost of Death 
Seabee Technical Assistance Teams (STAT) with Secret Clearances were sent to Vietnam to assist the US Army's Special Forces in the CIA-funded Civilian Irregular Defense Group program (CIDG), including three teams from CB 11; 1103, 1104, and 1105. In February 1965, STAT 1104 was sent to Ben Soi, Vietnam, where they built a camp for US Special Forces. On the heels of this project, in June, Team 1104 was assigned the construction of another new camp at Dong Xoài, an assignment that would become military history. So, nine members of STAT 1104 departed Ben-Soi to join eleven men of the 5th Special Forces Group, A Team 342 at Đồng Xoài.
fire, both men were wounded again while returning to their lines, proving fatal for Shields. The next day, nearly out of ammunition and under heavy fire, the survivors were extracted by three Hueys and a gunship from the 118th Aviation Company. In the confusion, LTJG Peterlin and EOC McCully were separated and left behind but survived the night and were awarded Silver Stars. For their actions, both Shields and Williams were awarded the Medal of Honor, while other team members all received Bronze Stars with V device for valor, and Seabee Team 1104 received the Navy Unit Commendation. The only Seabee to ever be awarded the Medal of Honor, Marvin Shields was posthumously awarded the Republic of Vietnam Gallantry Cross with Palm and the Military Merit Medal. For their part, the Seabees named their bases at Chu Lai, Vietnam, and Okinawa "Camp Shields" and their base in Da Nang for SW2 William Hoover.
"Ghost Battalion" and chose the Jolly Roger for the Battalion's colors. The project, first believed to be no problem, quickly presented an unexpected hurdle - half of the airfield contained 11,000 unmarked graves. With one week left to complete the assignment, the Seabees enlisted Vietnamese civilians to assist in removing the burials.
Kadena Air Base is the home of the 18th Wing, an Air Force unit that predates World War II. The legend of the Kadena Chicken is based on the 18th Wing's insignia, which features a black chicken, with its wings held high on a yellow background mixed with the unit's history during the Korean War. The legend is pretty gruesome, but luckily for the Air Force, it's also completely false. 
As a punishment, the story goes, the 18th Wing was forbidden from having a home station in the continental United States. The further humiliation comes in the form of its insignia: a chicken with its wings in the air, surrendering on a yellow background to remind the 18th forever of its cowardice in the face of the enemy. 
Its service didn't end with the war. The Hornet returned to action in South Vietnam during the Vietnam War and was used to recover command modules and crews during the Apollo Program, including the crew that first landed on the moon in 1969. 
Dan Brisker was a Machinist's Mate aboard the Hornet between 1965 and 1969. He was detailed to Fire Control, which required him to spend his watch in the ship's fire rooms. One night, he was having a snack and suddenly heard work being done in a boiler firebox, despite the fact that he was on the graveyard shift and thought he was alone. 
One day, to my Dad's relief, I told him I was thinking of joining some branch of the military service. I was always intrigued by and interested in aircraft and enjoyed watching them fly. Finally, I decided to join the U.S. Air Force and was sworn- in on March 2, 1966. The Vietnam War was escalating during this period, and I did not want to be drafted into the U.S. Army. If I was going to end up in Vietnam, I wanted it to be on my terms. As it turned out, that is exactly what happened.
It took me about 4 to 6 months to get used to the weather environment after arriving in Alaska. I remember being in my summer dress blues when I got off the plane in Anchorage in late September 1966. Talk about an eye-opener! I told myself, "What did I get myself into ?!" But it was only a matter of time before I became accustomed to the cold weather. During the winter months, I recall walking from the chow hall to the Flightline and, on the way listening to my boots making a crunching noise in the freshly fallen snow. The sun would not be up yet, and the surrounding area would be eerily quiet.
He occasionally told us younger guys that once we left Alaska and ended up at a TAC (Tactical Air Command) base, we would constantly be going TDY (temporary duty) at any given time. As it turned out, that is exactly what happened to me and the few of us that would be stationed together again. We speak highly of John often.
I always considered the C-130 a safe aircraft. After all, it was my job to keep them in safe flying condition. But for all the time I spent flying, there were a few dangerous incidents I would not want to relive. On one occasion, we landed on the Greenland ice cap, but when it came time to depart, the ski-equipped landing gear could not clear the ice for takeoff. The slick ice created a suction on the Teflon bottom of the ski. If we had not been successful on the third takeoff try, we would not have had enough fuel to return to our base, and we would have been stranded on the ice cap for an undetermined amount of time.
leaking pressure, it releases a pink mist. I was on my radio headset and immediately contacted the flight engineer up on the flight deck. He came down to my location, took one look, and quickly moved back up to the flight deck. Knowing exactly what to do, he turned off the power to the utility hydraulic panel and turned on the power to the booster hydraulic panel. The C-130 comes equipped with a reliable hydraulic backup system. To everyone's relief, the problem was solved.....temporarily at least. I might have given the Army troop the thumbs up at this point. After the flight was over and back on the ground, I assisted the hydraulic specialist in changing the main landing gear valve. 
By this time, we had already made some buddies with the Army troops who were stationed there. At first, some of the troops found it rather humorous when we would offload from our aircraft with flak vests, combat helmets, M-16 rifles, and toolboxes. One day we were visited by a battalion of South Vietnamese troops passing by. One of these troops was caught stealing some property from one of our troops and was beaten severely with a rubber hose in the dirt and dust by his Commander.
There would be one more 3- month TDY duty overseas: Mildenhall Air Base, England. I have a difficult time remembering what exactly our mission was while in England. I do remember being at the base NCO club on the evening of July 20, 1969. That was the day Neil Armstrong landed on the moon. The club was filled with loud yelling and jubilation after witnessing Armstrong make that first foot impression on the moon. That's one experience that will be difficult to forget.
Greetings!
When Gerald Augustine shipped off to Vietnam in 1966, he brought a 1949 Kodak Brownie Hawkeye box camera at the behest of his mother. It turned out to be a great decision. 
"Vietnam Beyond" is a glimpse of reality through Augustine's camera, those both beautiful and terrifying, all of which have stuck him over the ensuing decades. He captures his experiences on the front lines of the Vietnam War, writes about his struggles and setbacks, and discusses the effects of Agent Orange on his life and family.