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May 27, 2024
Boots Like Mine
By Gary L. Noller
The Bandera Prophet
The Vietnam War brought new innovations in gear and equipment supplied to American soldiers. This included the UH-1 Iroquois “Huey” helicopter, the M-16 automatic rifle, and the M-1966 jungle boot. I experienced each of these during my tour in Vietnam.
My unit, Company B, 1/46th Infantry, operated from a firebase located in the rugged jungle mountains of South Vietnam. We were about 60 miles south of the city of DaNang and half the way between the coast of the South China Sea and the Laotian border. There were only two ways to get to the firebase- walk in by foot or fly in by helicopter.
We spent most of our time on patrol in the dense uninhabited mountainous jungles. But from time to time, we returned to the firebase to provide security and to carry out a variety of odd jobs. It mostly involved hard labor to improve our perimeter defensive positions. We called it grunt work.
One day, one of our sister companies became heavily engaged with a determined North Vietnamese Army unit. We listened to the intense radio transmissions that the embattled American unit sent to our battalion headquarters at the firebase. The firefight was at close quarters and very deadly to both sides.
The battle did not last very long, probably less than an hour. The enemy decided to break contact and flee the area well before American gunships arrived at the scene. The heavily armed helicopters would tip the balance of the fight in favor of the Americans.
But in the end, unfortunately, four American soldiers lay dead on the ground. They fought for their lives and for the lives of their brothers. They gave all they had to give.
After the battle quieted, the first priority became the evacuation of the wounded. Due to the ruggedness of the terrain, there was no place close to land helicopters. The wounded required extraction by an extremely hazardous method.
Huey “Dustoff” helicopters, equipped with rescue gear, hovered over the evacuation site and used a winch and cable to lift the wounded up and out of the jungle. They had to proceed one at a time. Fortunately, there were no additional casualties during this tricky operation.
Next, the dead soldiers needed to be extracted from the battlefield. Again, due to the ruggedness of the terrain, and the extreme difficulty in carrying the dead to a helicopter landing zone, an extraction by a helicopter cable was necessary.
Fellow soldiers wrapped the four bodies in rubberized ponchos and lashed them together with rope. The rope was attached to the cable suspended by the helicopter. The helicopter then lifted the lifeless bodies from the jungle and immediately proceed to our firebase.
A call went out for volunteers to assemble at the helipad to receive the dead soldiers. Several of us were nearby filling sandbags to reinforce a bunker. I joined a small group that quickly arrived at the helicopter landing pad.
We looked up to the sky and observed the approaching helicopter- its precious cargo suspended below the aircraft.
The helicopter approached our location ever so slowly.
Once directly above us, the helicopter hovered and began to gently lower the dead soldiers. They came down slowly. Inch by inch, until they were finally withing our reach. The others moved forward to handle the bodies.
I froze.
I could not make my body move. Nothing in my whole life prepared me for this shocking duty.
The others in our group reached out to steady the swaying bodies. The helicopter continued its slow descent- lower, lower. lower. Finally, the four were ready to touch the ground.
I stood a few feet away. I watched as their jungle boots, exposed under the ponchos, neared the ground.
I felt like shouting to them, “Its okay. You can stand up now. Just a few more inches and you can stand up and it will all be okay. Stand up! Just stand up!”
But they could not stand up.
The four were placed side-by-side on the ground. My gaze fixed on their feet. I saw the familiar design of the cleats on the bottom of their jungle boots.
It struck me. Boots like mine. New. Black and green. Tightly bloused. Just like mine.
They--- are just like me.
I never learned the names of the four soldiers that died that day. Most likely, I can do a some research today and find out who they were. Nameless or not, I intend to always remember them.
I do not know why the image of the dead soldiers' boots is one that has always stayed with me. We were all American soldiers. We all wore the same black and green jungle boots.
Some of us came home. Some of us did not.
We must always remember them. This is why I always find a way to observe Memorial Day.
May they Rest in Peace.
My unit, Company B, 1/46th Infantry, operated from a firebase located in the rugged jungle mountains of South Vietnam. We were about 60 miles south of the city of DaNang and half the way between the coast of the South China Sea and the Laotian border. There were only two ways to get to the firebase- walk in by foot or fly in by helicopter.
We spent most of our time on patrol in the dense uninhabited mountainous jungles. But from time to time, we returned to the firebase to provide security and to carry out a variety of odd jobs. It mostly involved hard labor to improve our perimeter defensive positions. We called it grunt work.
One day, one of our sister companies became heavily engaged with a determined North Vietnamese Army unit. We listened to the intense radio transmissions that the embattled American unit sent to our battalion headquarters at the firebase. The firefight was at close quarters and very deadly to both sides.
The battle did not last very long, probably less than an hour. The enemy decided to break contact and flee the area well before American gunships arrived at the scene. The heavily armed helicopters would tip the balance of the fight in favor of the Americans.
But in the end, unfortunately, four American soldiers lay dead on the ground. They fought for their lives and for the lives of their brothers. They gave all they had to give.
After the battle quieted, the first priority became the evacuation of the wounded. Due to the ruggedness of the terrain, there was no place close to land helicopters. The wounded required extraction by an extremely hazardous method.
Huey “Dustoff” helicopters, equipped with rescue gear, hovered over the evacuation site and used a winch and cable to lift the wounded up and out of the jungle. They had to proceed one at a time. Fortunately, there were no additional casualties during this tricky operation.
Next, the dead soldiers needed to be extracted from the battlefield. Again, due to the ruggedness of the terrain, and the extreme difficulty in carrying the dead to a helicopter landing zone, an extraction by a helicopter cable was necessary.
Fellow soldiers wrapped the four bodies in rubberized ponchos and lashed them together with rope. The rope was attached to the cable suspended by the helicopter. The helicopter then lifted the lifeless bodies from the jungle and immediately proceed to our firebase.
A call went out for volunteers to assemble at the helipad to receive the dead soldiers. Several of us were nearby filling sandbags to reinforce a bunker. I joined a small group that quickly arrived at the helicopter landing pad.
We looked up to the sky and observed the approaching helicopter- its precious cargo suspended below the aircraft.
The helicopter approached our location ever so slowly.
Once directly above us, the helicopter hovered and began to gently lower the dead soldiers. They came down slowly. Inch by inch, until they were finally withing our reach. The others moved forward to handle the bodies.
I froze.
I could not make my body move. Nothing in my whole life prepared me for this shocking duty.
The others in our group reached out to steady the swaying bodies. The helicopter continued its slow descent- lower, lower. lower. Finally, the four were ready to touch the ground.
I stood a few feet away. I watched as their jungle boots, exposed under the ponchos, neared the ground.
I felt like shouting to them, “Its okay. You can stand up now. Just a few more inches and you can stand up and it will all be okay. Stand up! Just stand up!”
But they could not stand up.
The four were placed side-by-side on the ground. My gaze fixed on their feet. I saw the familiar design of the cleats on the bottom of their jungle boots.
It struck me. Boots like mine. New. Black and green. Tightly bloused. Just like mine.
They--- are just like me.
I never learned the names of the four soldiers that died that day. Most likely, I can do a some research today and find out who they were. Nameless or not, I intend to always remember them.
I do not know why the image of the dead soldiers' boots is one that has always stayed with me. We were all American soldiers. We all wore the same black and green jungle boots.
Some of us came home. Some of us did not.
We must always remember them. This is why I always find a way to observe Memorial Day.
May they Rest in Peace.