He told me he had to carry over ninety pounds of equipment everywhere he went. Having to carry all this equipment around the jungles of Vietnam with little or no roads to travel by, the only way to get around was by helicopter. The medics used the helicopters as a way to commute to and from the battlefield to evacuate the wounded soldiers. During one of the rescue operations in Laos the helicopter my father was in got shot down. The pilot, my father and a few others were injured. An Eagle Dust Off ship tried to rescue them, but had to abort as the pilot was injured when it came under heavy fire. An hour later another helicopter managed to land and rescued my father and the Dust Off crew. Even though my father was injured he did not notice until they were evacuated and reached base camp, where he collapsed in pain. During this operation he had to carry the wounded pilot to safety as they waited for the rescue helicopter to arrive. For his action of bravery and courage my father received the Silver Star as well as the Purple Heart for the injury he received. My father spent one whole year in the jungles of Vietnam, traveling by helicopter every day, staring across at his friend’s faces, which were veiled by the fear of death and pain. Not knowing when the next mission, ambush or death would come my father and his fellow soldiers were always afraid, wet and exhausted. Many times I tried to imagine what they thought of life after the war. My father said none of them were ever the same. The extremely loud explosions, violently bloody scenes and the loss of friends were images the soldiers would have to live with for the rest of their lives. The bond that develops between men in combat does not exist anywhere else. “More than friends, more than brothers” my father would say.



