I grew up in a time of bomb shelters and "Duck and Cover" drills.  That paranoia was amplified by my 4th and 5th grade teacher whose message was. "An atomic attack is coming. The dam near us is a first strike target.  We have to seek cover when it comes.  We will die a horrible death anyway."   

I grew up believing that I would die in war.  When the sergeant told me I had been ordered to Vietnam, it was as if he was saying, "You're going to die now."

I did not die, and I learned some interesting things in my year in Nam.  First, I learned the difference between fear and terror.  It is said that there are two types of people in war, those who tell you they were scared and those who are liars.

I learned about heroism, too.  Most heroic acts are not noted or rewarded except by the knowledge that you did the right thing.  Some are remembered with tears, some with laughter.  

There was the time I was in Khe Sanh, during the Tet Offensive.  With only my M16, I protected a bunker full of sleeping GI's by stalking and almost killing a VC rat who was masquerading as an NVA sapper.  But, that's a story for another time. 

Then there was George Zaffuto, the clown-hero who never entered the hooch without yelling "Ma, I'm home." And the only one I know who ever climbed into an unguarded Cobra Gunship and pushed enough buttons to start the canopy closing.  He got out, but I'm sure the pilot was upset when he returned.  His heroism comes down to a few words.  A new in country sergeant was going to send one of our guys to a detachment that was under attack.  The man he was sending had 8 days left on his tour, and he had a bad case of last-digit fidgets.  Several of us said, "Don't send Him.  He's too short."  But the sergeant was unmoved.  George stepped up and did not say "Don't send him."  He said, "Send me."  He went.  He is a hero.

Bill Anselmo and Noel Rios were not similar to each other in any way.  Rios wanted to be where the action was.  He was energized into superhero mode when he was being shot at.  Anselmo came over with a premonition of doom.  During the '68 Tet Offensive, Noel returned from Khe Sanh with a list of things they needed.  He wanted to go back.  He needed someone to return with him.  When he asked me, I was glad I could tell him I couldn't because I was leaving for R&R the next day.  Bill said he would go, and the sergeant gave the OK.  Since we traveled on standing orders and "Off manifest," no one knew for sure why they did not return.  After 10 days, Sgt. Kinder and I were assigned to follow their route as best we could.  They had flown from Danang to Hue to catch a flight to Khe Sanh.  At Hue we found someone who remembered them and said that they had boarded a Marine C-130 going to Khe Sanh.  We followed.  We learned that a Marine C-130 had been shot down on approach and had tumbled end over end into the mountain.  No bodies were recovered, so they were listed as missing for some time.  They were two men who died, each for reasons that were known only to themselves and to God.
 
Some day I will go to the Wall and leave them each a special-order shirt with their names and the words "Khe Sanh '68, Forever Young."  Until I can get there, when you do, stop by Panel W-30 and tell them I remember them.

Dan