As described by Gary McClellan: "Me and a boy, December 1967."
Courtesy of Gary McClellan
Stars and Stripes
Published: June 29, 2015
Hunkering down in a bunker while rocket and mortar fire rained down in our area; the early morning contrails of B-52s returning from overnight bombing raids in North Vietnam; Bob Hope; letters from home; the camaraderie.
Learning from the New York Times newspaper of the attack on Song Be where my husband, Capt. Austin Miller, was. It took four days before he could make a call transferred from the Philippines to tell me he was alive and not wounded.
My best feel-good memory of the Vietnam War was whenever we had to go from Cu Chi base camp to a forward area, we would load up on C Rations so we could toss the food to village children as we passed through in the convoy.
On Jan. 30, 1968, the eve of the Vietnamese New Year, we heard there would be a two-day cease fire. The Vietnamese would celebrate with family, feasting, fireworks, and were very careful about what they did on the first day. That day, all hell broke loose
Sometimes it all seems a dream or maybe a nightmare to have my 20th and 21st birthdays so far away with a brotherhood of pilots, crew chiefs, and the infantry that we carried or supported in our combat roles protecting other ground troops that came under fire.