John A. Nesser - The Ghosts of Thua Thien: An American Soldiers Memoir of Vietnam

McFarland & Company, Inc., Publishers
Jefferson, North Carolina

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e-ISBN: 978-0-7864-8134-7

2008 John A Nesser. All rights reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying or recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Cover photograph: Combat Assault near the DMZ

McFarland & Company, Inc., Publishers
Box 611, Jefferson, North Carolina 28640
www.mcfarlandpub.com

For Linda
My transition from war to family life would not have
been possible without your love, patience and understanding.

I want to thank Henry Shovic, Ph.D., for his review of this book. His insights and suggestions were vital in helping me to clearly express my thoughts about Vietnam.

My longtime friend, Michael Dumas, also asked helpful questions and offered valuable suggestions. I thank him as well.

Finally, I would like to thank my wife, Linda, and my two sons, Tim and Joe. Their review provided me with personal insights and helped me to remember details that I had forgotten.

I spent my entire Vietnam tour of duty in Thua Thien Province except for a memorable combat assault near the DMZ (demilitarized zone). The Thua Thien area of operations was the scene of some of the heaviest fighting in the war, and more men became casualties there than anywhere else in Vietnam. The enemy soldiers we were fighting often seemed like ghosts in the thick jungle, and those ghosts still haunt me many years laterhence the title of this book. This is a personal narrative recounting my tour of duty with the 101st Airborne Division as both an infantry rifleman and Chinook helicopter door gunner in and above the mountainous jungles in northern South Vietnam. Though my experience may have been typical of many young men who were drafted and served their country, it is also very personal. Like every soldier, I saw and experienced the events of war through my own eyes, drew my own conclusions, and live with the memories.

The Vietnam War produced its share of extraordinary men, men who were involved in major battles and saw some of the worst fighting imaginable. The 1st Air Cavalry Divisions famous fight in the Ia Drang Valley, the Marines siege at Khe San, and the 101st Airborne Divisions battle for Hamburger Hill in the Ashau Valley all come to my mind. That same war was also responsible for self-proclaimed heroes, members of fictitious military units begging on street corners and a multitude of myths and urban legends that are still believed and accepted by many people. This book is not about heroes or famous battles, and it is not a political statement on the warwith the exception of a few personal thoughts. It is not a work of fiction or a description of myths. I was in Vietnam from May 1969, to July 1970. I lived there every day. This is my story, the story of an unforgettable year in my life.

While I was in Vietnam I wrote to my wife nearly every day, at least when I had the opportunity. She saved every letter that I wrote, and when I returned home in July 1970, she showed me the box containing all the letters. Shortly thereafter, whether in a fit of anger or as a gesture that in my mind freed me from what I had just experienced, I burned every letter, one by one, in the kitchen sink. As I write this book, I now wish that I had those letters. They represented actual, almost day-by-day accounts of everything that I experienced or thought about in Vietnam. Instead, I have been forced to rely on my somewhat aging memory to recall events and thoughts that occurred over 35 years ago, many of which I suppressed for many years after I returned from Vietnam. Some of those events are indelibly etched into my memory, while my recollection of other happenings is more vague and elusive. I have attempted to portray the accounts in this book as accurately as I remember them, but the chronological order may not always be precise. I should also point out that this book describes some of the more memorable incidents that took place during my tour of duty. I have mostly forgotten the lonely, endless days, the drudgery, misery, and boredom. They are distant memories now. Someone once said that war is mostly endless boredom punctuated by moments of absolute terror. I remember the terror.

Any errors in describing places or events are unintentional and are entirely mine. I have chosen to use fictitious names and not to identify the brave young men I served with in order to protect their privacy. Unfortunately, I cannot even recall all of their names. I have chosen to include the term gooks in this book only for historical accuracy and authenticity. It was a commonly used term for the enemy during the Vietnam War. I do not intend to demean the Vietnamese or any Asian people in any way, and I apologize to anyone who is offended.

My conservative, middle-class Catholic upbringing in the small, central Wisconsin town of Marshfield during the late 1950s and early 1960s was typical midwest Americana. In grade school our teachers talked about the evils of Communism, and we were instructed to hide under our desks in case of a nuclear attack. I knew almost nothing about Vietnam and could not have found it on a map. Our geography text described it as French Indochina but said little else. My high school history teacher talked about Dr. Tom Dooleys book, Deliver Us From Evil, and played a tape of one of his speeches for us. She read passages from his book that described the atrocities that were being committed by the Vietnamese Communists. I learned later that Dooley often sensationalized his accounts to further United States political aims in Southeast Asia. The United States involvement in Vietnam was just starting then, but my friends and I were far too busy playing football and chasing girls to worry about it or even pay attention to the news. Besides, we thought that we were all going to college, so the prospect of getting drafted just did not mean anything.

The early 1960s were magical years for me, and I thought I had the world by the tail. I was emerging from adolescence into adulthood, and the music, counterculture movement, and my plans for college all coalesced to give me a feeling of freedom and invincibility. Little did I realize then that events in a small country in Southeast Asia would soon destroy my youth and change my life forever.

My dad was the local newspaper editor, and I shared a very close relationship with him. He was a handsome man with dark hair whom his friends had nicknamed Blackie even though his real name was Larry. A graduate of Marquette University in Milwaukee, he had degrees in both journalism and philosophy and could always be counted on to expound on politics and life in general. We spent long hours discussing the Vietnam War, though we did not always come to the same conclusions. Dad was supportive of the Vietnam War mostly because he liked President Johnson and hated the idea of Communism. I was not sure that our involvement in the war was the right course of action, but at the same time, I had no respect for the anti-war movement. Dad shared his philosophy and wisdom with me and became the most influential man in my life; I loved him and respected him deeply. He was a patriotic man with courage and tenacity. During World War II he attempted to enlist in the Marine Corps and almost succeeded in taking the oath before a doctor discovered that he was totally deaf in one ear. That disqualified him from serving in the military. Since he could not enlist in the Marine Corps, he went to work in a defense plant in Milwaukee, and during that time he met and married my mother.