Jacobson in bed, with bandages on his arms.

Russell Jacobson, a former combat medic in Vietnam, is shown on the USS Repose, a hospital ship. Jacobson required a leg brace and walked with a cane because of injuries he suffered from enemy gunfire and a grenade explosion while treating and moving fallen comrades on March 16, 1967. (Photo courtesy of the Jacobson family)

By LINDA F. HERSEY 
STARS AND STRIPES

WASHINGTON — A Vietnam veteran’s son is on a mission to gather the evidence needed for his late father — a combat medic — to be considered for a Navy Cross for his actions to save wounded comrades in battle near Khe Sanh base, a remote military outpost near Laos that is now a memorial site.

The Navy Cross is the service’s second-highest decoration for extraordinary heroism in combat awarded to a member of the Navy or Marines.

David Jacobson, of Massachusetts, has been collecting eyewitness accounts, old letters, newspaper stories, military reports and sworn affidavits about an enemy ambush on Hill 861 on March 16, 1967, and the actions of his father, Russell H. Jacobson Jr., to treat the wounded as he himself came under fire.

Russell Jacobson was shot multiple times as he moved the injured from the battlefield, and then returned to help others, according to the documentation. The North Vietnamese Army then used Jacobson’s broken body as a decoy to fire at Marines who tried to reach him.

“This was one of the opening battles of Khe Sanh, a period of heavy casualties and constant movement,” David said.

To be considered for a Navy Cross, “the act or the execution of duty must be performed in the presence of great danger or at great personal risk and must be performed in such a manner as to set the individual apart from his shipmates or fellow Marines,” according to the legislation authorizing the award.

Jacobson in uniform.

Russell Harold Jacobson, a Navy hospital corpsman, was on patrol with Echo Company, 2nd Battalion, 9th Marines on Hill 861, which overlooked the Khe Sanh base, a Marine Corps outpost, when troops were ambushed by enemy forces. (Photo courtesy of the Jacobson family)

Jacobson was a Navy hospital corpsman attached to a Marine unit in Vietnam. He was on a nighttime patrol with Echo Company, 2nd Battalion, 9th Marines on Hill 861, which overlooked the base, when troops came under attack. The peak was named 861 for its height in meters.

“The North Vietnamese Army had professionally prepared their bunkers in depth, with fields of fire and camouflage beyond anything the Marines had ever experienced. It became a bloodbath for the trapped Marines who continued the assault as assigned,” David wrote on the website, KheSanh.vet, which is dedicated to the men who fought and served at Khe Sanh.

The battle was chronicled in Edward F. Murphy’s book, “The Hill Fights: The First Battle of Khe Sanh,” which described the bravery and desperation of the Americans, outnumbered and outgunned by a hidden enemy during a series of hillside attacks near the outpost.

“Published accounts of the battle describe my father and another wounded Marine lying exposed for an extended period while enemy forces remained dangerously close, as the fighting continued around them,” David wrote.

As the fighting subsided, the North Vietnamese withdrew but first placed a grenade under Jacobson’s backpack, which detonated, shattering his right hip and tearing a kidney. His flak jacket had body armor that protected his torso, David said.

“When the Marines found Dad, there was no pulse,” David said. “He was loaded onto the medevac as a casualty, believed to be dead. However, he was still alive.”

The last casualties from clashes on Hill 861 were evacuated by helicopter on March 17, 1967.

Nineteen U.S. troops were killed and 59 injured in the fighting on Hill 861. The Marines secured the hill in late April 1967 before subsequent battles shifted to nearby peaks, according to an account of the battle  by Marine Corps University, in Quantico, Va. 

In a May 1967 letter to Jacobson, Marine Cpl. Herbert Thompson credited the corpsman with saving several Marines who otherwise would not have survived.

“Regardless of what you think, you and only you were the fact that they made it out OK,” Thompson wrote to Jacobson, while recovering from injuries at Portsmouth Naval Hospital, in Virginia.

Thompson ended the letter with the message, “Always remember you will have me as a lasting true friend.”

Jacobson’s medical records from Chelsea Naval Hospital, Mass., in December 1967 identified multiple gunshot and fragmentation wounds, broken bones and severe injuries to both legs, nerve damage and kidney trauma.

Jacobson received a Purple Heart while recovering at Chelsea Naval Hospital, where he was a patient for nearly a year.

He had dozens of surgeries to save and set his damaged limbs, remove the torn kidney and rebuild his right hip.

Shrapnel lodged in his body was never completely recovered and caused him pain, David said. Jacobson wore a leg brace and walked with a cane for the rest of his life.

“The war physically followed my father home for the rest of his life,” said David, who created a website in his father’s honor that documents Jacobson’s actions in that consequential battle. “The wounds he sustained on Hill 861 led to surgery after surgery over many years — a constant physical reminder of what that day had cost him. Only later in life did we begin to understand how extraordinary, and how traumatic his experience truly was.”

An aircraft lands.

Khe Sanh base was an isolated outpost in Vietnam that came under intense enemy artillery fire, making aircraft landings nearly impossible. Transport crews are shown dropping pallets of food, fuel, and ammunition onto the airstrip. (19th Airlift Wing)

In “The Hill Fights,” published in 2003, the author described Jacobson’s actions under fire and sourced witnesses who fought in the battle, including Staff Sgt. Spencer Olsen, who received a Silver Star for his own actions during the engagement.

Jacobson died of lymphoma at age 68 on Jan. 9, 2015, which his family attributed to exposure to the defoliant Agent Orange in Vietnam.

“Looking back now, I realize how much we learned simply by watching how my dad carried himself,” David said about his father, who studied at Yale University after military service and worked as a physician’s assistant. “He taught us that while people cannot control the terrible things that happen in life, they can control how they carry it forward.”

David is assembling the evidence on behalf of his mother, Peggy, a retired nurse, and the entire family.

Peggy said that Russell only discussed his war experiences in bits and pieces, when asked questions or triggered by memories that saddened him.

“This is an honorable request by the family. It is a tribute to someone who gave it all — a recognition of valor,” said Denis Russell, the Veterans of Foreign Wars post commander in Plymouth, Mass., where the Jacobson family resided.

Russell and Roxanne Whitbeck, Plymouth’s veterans service director, are providing assistance with research, documentation and outreach to state lawmakers, military members and others to generate interest and support.

“Let’s do what’s right, even though it is posthumously,” Russell said.

The Jacobson family has asked the office of Rep. Bill Keating, D-Mass., to submit the recommendation, and the congressman’s staff has been sending forms for the family to complete, in preparation, according to their emailed communications.

Keating’s office did not respond to a request for comment.

Federal statute allows members of Congress to request consideration for military valor awards, including the Navy Cross, with no time limitations.

The Vietnam Veterans Memorial Fund has a biography of Jacobson on the In Memory Honor Roll.

“During his life, Russ had over 90 surgical procedures, primarily related to his orthopedic injuries sustained in Vietnam. The obvious outward injuries are what we saw,” the biography states.

“The emotional injuries remained inside. There is no question that Russ carried dark and unthinkable images and memories in his head. Though he would talk about it if asked, he never brought it up.

“His love of life, family and doing the right thing is the ‘nutshell perception’ people would have of this guy. Always [with] a smile on his face and a positive outlook, he was a hell of a soul.”

Troops in camp at Khe Sanh base.

Khe Sanh base was in the northwest corner of the former South Vietnam, 6 miles from the border with Laos and south of the demilitarized zone. (Photo courtesy of KheSanh.vet)

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