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Posted: 12/31/1969 Name: Steve Hawk Message: DJ I could have told them that a stroke was an impossibility for you. Glad your OK though. No, there will not be an overhead at the monument. Steve |
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Posted: 12/31/1969 Name: Mark Jordan Message: October USMRA Minutes ...One of the most enjoyable meetings we've had in awhile...Steve was back; Sonny was off in VA...and we enjoyed some awesome sloppy joes, courtesy of Al and some fabulous baked beans from Chuck...good to have Steve Caldwell and Ted Tilson attending...Ted gifted everyone with very rare cigars in celebration of his new grandson, Isaac... ...Willard Langdon, Chaplain, provided a very sincere and heartfelt prayer for the occasion... ...Steve Hawk begins with an explanation of his absence for the last two meetings...a stroke he was trying to keep on the down low so his family would not be concerned... ...as your cub reporter was remembering posting such a query on the message board a few days ago, my eyes got big, met Steve's, who graciously assured everyone it was okay the way things did get loose... ...Steve, welcoming the news of Isaac also announced his new grandson, Sawyer with another that's projected in the future..."two little hellions, for sure" was muttered by someone...I didn't look... ...Steve explained the limitations he has now, driving being one but his 1953 Willys Jeep is waiting to be rebuilt but that memory was affected by the stroke, not yet returning... ...not trusting on what he'd remember tonight, he justified the use of a Secretary...and we moved into the meeting... ...I read the posted minutes from last meeting; approved by vote... ...Steve began by asking about support for the Camp's Halloween needs and if anyone had heard about it...*crickets chirping*...he continued by explaining the scaled down opportunities that such benefactors as Wal Mart offer today...no discussion... ...Critter Cookout 2012 discussion has officially begun...4, 5 and 6 May is tentative date...both Ted Tilson and Steve giving reviews for last year's event...Al Parten gave a preview of logistical needs and discussion ended with a motion... ...Ted Tilson made the motion that next month, the 3 November meeting, we officially begin planning for the Critter Cookout...seconded and passed...Steve Bishop's name added to the group of planners for the weekend...Ted assured that he's in touch with Steve regularly... ...Bob Suchke offered a crowd control alternative for all those nonmembers who eat at the CCO, not understanding the routine...$5 and armbands...no motion was made but more agreement on communication and coordination among members to plan ahead this year... ...Ted Tilson advocated having a fire pit returned as a fixture for our CCO...as well as a need for the website getting a facelift...Steve spoke of some of Bob's commitments during this time of year as advising the difficulty that Bob would have in turning too much attention to tweaking the site... ...speaking of cookers, a barrel was offered by Dwight Bearden, a "famous movie star".....if someone could do some welding...approval by many in offering trailers and other aid in using the 6' long barrel, never used before... ...for some reason the talk moved over to Dawson County and white lightning...Steve had a sheriff story and Dwight knew exactly who he was talking about... ...Al Parten requested a moment of silence remembering the 18 Rangers lost in Somalia... ...Ted Tilson made the motion to close, seconded and Bob Suchke did not oppose...meeting ended... ...respectfully submitted-RLTW!... ...Mark Jordan, S1... |
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Posted: 12/31/1969 Name: Mark, S1 Message: ...just passing along some memories you probably never heard of...April 17, 1968... Journey to the Carbon Cemetery It was a cold clear day in the rolling hills of central Oklahoma on February 15, 2010 when I turned off the pavement onto a barely improved gravel road. A small, crudely painted sign hung on a fence at the road junction was my only clue that I was on the right track. A friendly Okie had given me instructions that had brought me this far. I was almost at the end of a trip that had started forty-one years and 12,000 miles ago. April 17, 1968 started out as just another day in the life of an infantry platoon leader in the delta. It was the peak of the dry season and temperatures were high. Silently, the men of A Company, 4th of the 47th gathered there meager possessions, shook the bugs out their jungle fatigues, and wiped the sleep out their eyes—if they had slept at all. Although it started as any other, it was a day that would change my life forever. The fighting started about 9AM; it was dark, maybe around 7PM, when I finally got back to the company command post badly dehydrated and with a gaping bullet hole in my leg. About an hour later I heard Mittler’s voice on the company radio net, “Chambers and Hubbard are dead”. I was devastated. Two men in the prime of life who depended on me to keep them safe were dead! Captain Robert Bischoff, the company commander, was consoling but unfazed. Fearless and battle-hardened this was not Captain Bischoff’s first fight. He had seen much worse. I had not. The road to recovery from the gunshot wound took me first to the battalion aid station on the Benewah, then the 90th Evac Hospital in Tan Son Nhut, and finally Camp Oji, Japan. The emotional wounds took longer to heal. First came the guilt of survivorship. Why them and not me? Next was the grief that comes with the realization that one’s best efforts were not enough to protect two brave men. I had no second thoughts about my actions that day. There were no “I should have…” moments. Captain Bischoff was kind enough to put me in for a Silver Star. It was the grief that comes with the burden of leadership, at times overwhelming and then in remission. The passage of time eroded the sharper edges of the grief but then came the little voice saying that I had not fulfilled my duties as the first officer in the chain of command of Hubbard and Chambers. I had returned to Vietnam after the surgery in Japan but with a bad limp. I never returned to the 9th Division but instead took an assignment with the 1st Aviation Brigade initially as the security officer at Can Tho Army Airfield and then as a commander of a Pathfinder Detachment. I never wrote a letter of condolence to the families of Chambers and Hubbard and certainly never attended a memorial service. Every year on April 17th the little voice reminded me of the unfinished business. It was 2009 when the little voice could no longer be silenced. I had been in the work force for 50 years and it was time to enjoy the fruits of my labor and live out the rest of my days in middle class bliss. First on the bucket list was to pay my respects to Chambers and Hubbard even if it meant traveling to the ends of the earth. The last 25 years of my working life had been spent as a private investigator so locating living people was no problem. Locating dead people presented more of a challenge. I determined that by 2009 neither Hubbard nor Chambers had living children, spouses, or parents. The obvious avenues of enquiry regarding their gravesites were soon exhausted so, out of ideas, I sent in a Freedom of Information Act request to the Army Personnel Center asking for the location of the graves of Hubbard and Chambers. Because both of these men were listed on the Vietnam Memorial website I had their service numbers and hometowns: Fort Worth for Chambers and Choteau, Oklahoma for Hubbard. The Army sent me more than I bargained for. Taking a broad view of my rather limited request the Army sent me the whole “Individual Deceased Personnel File”. It made for reading that only a funeral director could enjoy. And yet in its own macabre way it was very impressive. There laid out on impersonal forms in terse military prose were all the actions taken by the morticians in handling the bodies. Fingerprints were taken, wounds were documented, and the bodies prepared for shipment. It was all there in the Individual Deceased Personnel File down to the coordinates of the action and the reports of the escort NCOs who accompanied the caskets from Travis Air Force Base. I had the information I needed. Chambers was buried at Cedar Hill Cemetery south of Fort Worth; Hubbard was buried at the Carbon Cemetery in Richville, Oklahoma. It would not exactly be a trip to the end of the earth from my home near San Antonio. Cedar Hill Cemetery is a sprawling, old, well laid out facility for blacks on the Mansfield Highway. I went to the office to make enquiries about the location of Chamber’s grave. The secretary asked me what relation I was to the deceased. “We served together,” I murmured. A friendly sexton guided me to a site underneath a giant live oak and then left me to talk to the headstone of a man I had last seen on April 17, 1968. The grief welled up again but I fought it off and finished my one sided conversation and said a prayer before heading to my next stop: the Carbon Cemetery. The Individual Deceased Personnel Record referred to the Carbon Cemetery in Richville, Oklahoma. My map program gave Richville the smallest of dots and I soon learned why. Arriving at the dot on the map I found nothing but fields and forests for miles around—not so much as a shuttered gas station or post office confirmed that Richville had ever existed. My years as a PI had taught me the value of seeking local knowledge. I found a propane truck driver refilling his tank. He wasn’t sure about the name but he recalled seeing a sign nearby pointing to a cemetery. His directions were good. I turned off the pavement at the crudely lettered sign. The road went from bad to worse until after several miles it abruptly ended in a clearing of about six acres. I thought I had missed a turn until I noticed a small moss covered rock on the side of the road bearing the inscription “Carbon Cemetery”. I was shocked at the abject poverty that the cemetery represented but the worst shock was yet to come. Here were no neat rows of markers like at Cedar Hill. Only where the ground had caved in forming a small depression could one identify a gravesite. Only a handful of the graves had store-bought markers. If there was a marker, it was a small boulder with initials of the deceased scratched on it and there were a lot more depressions than markers. I knew from the record that Hubbard had a military marker. Crisscrossing the field multiple times failed to turn up the grave I was looking for. I had been searching for over an hour; long shadows from the surrounding pine trees were starting to encroach on the Carbon Cemetery. I was on the verge of giving up when I saw an area on the margin of the field that I had not searched. It looked like there was an ancient wrought iron fence around a tumbledown marker. And there was Hubbard, just outside the wrought iron fence with a nice military marker—one of the best in the cemetery. But it was with horror that I saw something else next to the grave: two other markers told the story of a family’s tragic history. Hubbard had a brother and sister who had predeceased him. Hubbard’s parents had outlived three children! I was dumfounded. My grief was immense but it paled to insignificance compared to what Hubbard’s parents must have felt when the death of their son was announced. I had my one-sided conversation with Hubbard. It was almost dark and a chill wind had sprung up. I headed for the car overwhelmed by the revelations at Hubbard’s gravesite but glad that the journey that had begun on April 17, 1968 was over. Rest in peace, my friends. You were brave men, and true. ...RLTW... |
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Posted: 12/31/1969 Name: Mike Keohane Message: Found an unopened box in my storage area - it contained a gift from my niece & nephew. When they were little, I would take them on overnight hikes in the Catskills and regale them with stories about the Smokies. So, knowing that I had given away all of my camping gear after hitting the big 50, they decided to give me a present - a brand new sleeping bag & a pad. Nice thought but, at 75, I have a bit of trouble in getting up off the ground - I need a bed. So, I was thinking of donating the gear to the Boy Scout Troop. If they will acccept it, I will have it in my Jeep on the 28th. |
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Posted: 12/31/1969 Name: Chuck Windham, Vice President Message: Happy new year to all. Just a reminder that the USMRA kicks off the new year this Thursday, 1900hrs, at the Overhang. See you there as we begin and plan our new year. RLTW. |
