Richard R. Burns - Pathfinder: First In, Last Out: A Memoir of Vietnam

It is a signal honor to write this introduction to Pathfinder. I am one among many who have been honored to call Richie Burns my friend. Our ties go back to 1968, in Vietnam, where we crossed paths in the 101st Airborne Division at Camp Eagle. He and some of his fellow Pathfinders used to come over to the LRP compound and visit. Two of Richies mates, Buz Harding and Ron Reynolds, extended six months to serve with the LRPs; Richie returned to the states. Ron was killed while serving on a long range patrol mission in the A Shau Valley in May, 1969; Buz made it home.

When Richie and I reconnected in 1991, he was working as a therapist in the psych program at the Veterans Administration hospital in Gainesville, Florida. It was then that I discovered that Richie had decided to stay in the army, returning to Vietnam to serve an extended tour as a Pathfinder and an adviser to the South Vietnamese Airborne. After completing this tour, Richie joined Special Forces and served the remainder of his twenty-year military career with 10th Group, retiring with the rank of E-8. I guess I can claim some responsibility for Richie becoming a writer. I conned him into writing a column for Behind The Lines, a military special-operations magazine that I published. His column, called Burns Ointment, educated veterans on the causes and effects of PTSD. Richies insight on that topic was both unique and innovative, and his advice to troubled vets proved more effective than the ineffective pap coming from VA psychologists and psychiatrists around the country. It wasnt long before the column became highly popular among our subscribers, many of whom contacted him to seek help. Generously, Richie gave it.

He never considered himself a writer; his communications skills were apparent to all but him. He graciously agreed to be the guest speaker at two LRP/Ranger reunions that I attended and proved to be the highlight of the entire reunion.

I tried for years to get Richie to write a book about his experiences in Vietnam, but his humility would not allow him to tell his story when so many others had yet to be told. It was about this time that Richie was diagnosed with colon cancer. I still remember the day he told me that he had beaten the cancer after a successful operation and had decided to take my advice and start writing his book.

Richies cancer returned a year later, this time with a vengeance. He started a long battle to defeat the horrible disease that had attacked him in the prime of his life, as it was to so many other Vietnam vets. Richie made up his mind that this insidious disease would not defeat him, nor would it keep him from completing his book. He told me that he had too much to live for and too much to do to let cancer get the best of him. He had a lovely wife and two fine children to support him.

Well, he finished the book. He wouldnt let anyone read it until it was done. Ballantine editor Chris Evans sent me the completed book proof when he asked me to write the introduction. Ive had my share of honors during my life. Writing the intro for Pathfinder ranks as one of the greatest. This story of a young mans combat tour as a Pathfinder with the elite 101st Airborne Division in Vietnam is a lesson in duty, courage, brotherhood, and love. The role of the Pathfinders in the Vietnam war is a well-kept secret. I know of no other book that has told their story. These small detachments of dedicated professionals quietly went about their business, developing their trade and improving their skills in a war that became more and more reliant on helicopters. No one will ever know how many American and allied lives they saved by their dedicated performance under fire. When you read this book you will understand what I mean. Richard Burns has done a great service to his fellow Pathfinders, sharing his and their stories with the rest of us. No longer will their valor and achievement go unrecognized. He has brought them to the light where legends are made.

Richie lost his final battle with cancer on October 19, 2001. He died just a few months before he could see the birth of his first grandchild or witness his book in print. He died as he liveda loving husband and father, a man, a soldier, and a brother to his brothers. This book is his legacy. We will miss him, but we know that he has gone on ahead, preparing the LZalways the Pathfinder.

Gary A. Linderer

F Company, 58th Inf. (LRP)

101st Airborne Division

The C-119 cargo plane sat on the airstrip at Fort Benning, its engines whining. The smell of the aircrafts exhaust filled my nostrils. It looked like a large rectangular box with curved corners and two long tails protruding toward the rear. Now I understood why it was nicknamed the flying boxcar. I wondered how the hell something configured in that shape could possibly fly It was my first parachute jump, and I was mentally rehashing all of the jump procedures that had been taught over the past two weeks.

The jumpmaster screamed out, Roster number sixty-seven!

I responded automatically, Here, Sergeant!

He pointed his finger at the ground. This is your position in the stick.

I quickly placed myself in line and snapped to attention as best I could while wearing the parachute. Clear, Sergeant. Airborne!

I couldnt believe my luck. I was positioned as third from the last man to jump. What a relief! All weekend I had dreaded being the first man in the door. I was afraid of heights and didnt want to stand in the door and look down at the ground for any length of time. I had flown in a plane only once in my life, and that had scared the hell out of me.

After a few moments, my stick boarded the left side of the aircraft and we took our seats. The cabin held forty-two jumpers, so we were packed like sardines. In no time I felt the perspiration building inside the sweatband of my helmet and on my hands.

The plane raced down the runway, its engines shrieking. I could barely hear myself speak to the guy sitting next to me. Jolting forward, the aircraft quickly increased speed. The rapid acceleration thrust my upper torso toward the rear. We were airborne in a matter of seconds. Everyone on board was solemn.

The plane repeatedly vaulted and swayed, making the flight to the drop zone especially rough. During a previous class, one of the instructors had said he was more afraid of riding in a C-119 than of jumping out of one. As the plane continued to bounce and weave about the sky, I began to understand the significance of his comment.

The jumpmaster opened the door, releasing a deafening roar of wind. I was overwhelmed by the sound of the blast; it was much louder than I had imagined it would be. A brilliant light from the outside invaded the cabin.