Fifty Years Ago Revisited, Part 1

by Glenn N. Holliman

Then and Now....

Half a century has passed since my service in Vietnam, in that tragic, ill begotten war. Fifty-five thousand Americans died and over a million Vietnamese. The American experience began with arrogance and hubris and ended in disaster for our nation and decimation for several Asian countries. The first combat troops arrived in 1965.

It evolved into a conflict of attrition, and after the 1968 Tet battles, US public opinion eventually found the death, destruction, a divided nation, increase in taxes and economic inflation too costly. Lyndon Johnson retired to Texas, a beaten man. Another president, Richard M. Nixon framed the eventual withdrawal as Peace with Honor, political hokum to cover a humiliating withdrawal.

To the right, a young man a half century ago with every thing in front of him.

 So I arrived in January 1969, a young, married college graduate who had received a draft notice a week after graduation. August 1968 I took the oath to defend the Constitution and only five months later descended into Asia to join up with the 1st Infantry Division, 40 or so miles north of Saigon in a rubber plantation called Lai Khe near Ben Cat.

I had a good job as a chaplain’s assistant. It was a useful position that combined the jobs of a clerk, guard duty, Jeep driving, church services and time in the field with those who were most exposed to combat- infantry companies and artillery batteries.

I was assigned to a company chaplain, a captain, attached to the 3rd Brigade. By and large the chaplains were good men, not much older than me. These enlisted assistants were much like me, E 4s and 5s, some college, some experience in social work or teaching and all of us counting the days until we rotated home (the length of overseas service was 365 days).

The chaplain assistant who ran the brigade office was Leo Wiley Hansen, a school teacher, whose draft board had been in the wrong Iowa county where he did not teach. So being single, age 24, Uncle Sam sent him greetings. He was drafted.

A month before me, he arrived in Lai Khe, South Vietnam. He was tall, skinny, wore thin rimmed glasses, spoke softly, smoked, drank beer, administered the office and like rest of us pulled guard duty every other night. He rarely complained, swore or bewailed his fate, or at least did not reveal those feelings as did most of us. By 1969, after four years of frustrating fighting, the war was stalemated and precious little enthusiasm left in an army composed largely of draftees. Drug abuse and disrespect to any ‘lifer’ still trying to win the war was rampant.

Above, Ben Nelson, North Carolina, Jim Joswick, Michigan, Glenn Holliman, Tennessee and Leo Wiley Hansen, Iowa.  This band of chaplain assistants posed in front of the 3rd Brigade Chaplain's office, former rubber plantation offices, now no longer in existence.

Memory fails me but I ended up sharing living quarters and the office with Leo Wiley.  He was an pleasant roommate. A quiet, thoughtful man with an easy smile and gentle laugh, not one to complain or fuss a lot about red tape. We had reason to be stressed. We were in the Army, an alien culture, and Southeast Asia, another unfamiliar environment and there was the war.  Rockets and shell fire dropped in on us occasionally. People got hurt and some died.

Occasionally we had to execute jobs that were befuddling to those of us who lacked mechanical skills such as greasing jeeps and buffing chapel floors.

Below, Leo Wiley Hansen washing the office jeep.  

Typing we could do and that is why most of us got these jobs. Our major duty was typing home sympathy letters to the family members of those who died in action. The machinery was a manual typewriter with a black ribbon, equipment now found in museums. Make one little mistake and we had to start over. Rippp....would go our tarnished work and a new carbon paper and letter head went into the roller.

One of the most important courses I took in high school was typing.  In basic training, I was asked to serve as company clerk, but declined knowing my job in the Army would be a chaplain's assistant.  Was I wrong to decline some extra months stateside at Ft. Benning, Georgia?  Perhaps, one never knows.  The war began winding down in 1970.   

Tragically in late October 1969, Leo’s father died suddenly, and he flew immediately back to the states. I don’t even think I had a chance to say goodbye. His sad loss was a gain for me. I left field work and took Leo’s place in the brigade office. Having been promoted to the exalted position of Specialist 5th class, I no longer had to pull guard duty but did have to serve as sergeant of the guard. That is wake guys up and drive them in the deuce and a half (a 2 1/2 ton truck) to their duty stations. 

Three months later my time was over, and I went home to my young wife and graduate school. Fast forward about 48 years and while scanning photographs, I looked again at a picture of some of the fellas I served with. On the reverse were their names and in Leo Wiley’s case, his hometown. Did he still live there I wondered?

It was the week before Christmas and in the spirit of season, I went on line to the white pages and, amazingly his name came up. Well, why not so I punched in the number and bzzz, bzzz, a man answered and I explained who I was and asked if Leo was there? He was, came to the phone and yes he remembered me and we had a wonderful chat, a delightful holiday reunion.

Several years passed and many, many emails. I told my daughter Grace about the re-connection and having visited Vietnam a few years earlier with me, suggested we go see Leo Wiley. Sort of a continuation of our Vietnam saga.

Well, why not and we did so! 

Next blog, I will tell you how the visit began.