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Show Page 10 The Ogden Valley news Volume XIV Issue XXII September 1, 2007 Reunite Vietnam, Remember Vets By Charles F. Trentelman Standard-Examiner staff ctrentelman@standard.net “When I got in, they gave me an M-16 that didn’t work and a gas mask that didn’t work. I said, ‘This will be a hell of a war,’” and the Denver resident grinned. “But it was all worth it. I met these guys,” he said, pointing at the six men sitting around him. hat half-dozen, and more to come, were members of the 2nd Platoon, Bravo Company, 1st Battalion, 22nd Infantry, 4th Infantry Division, during the Vietnam War, they spent 1970 and ’71 tromping through the jungles of the Central Highlands of Vietnam, hunting, being hunted and getting to know each other really well. “We were in the bush probably 85 percent of the time, so we got very, very close as a unit,” said reunion host Dave Brown, a Liberty resident in whose yard the men were sitting. When they got out of the Army, the men exchanged addresses and promised to keep in touch—but they didn’t. Not until Thursday. The men— some with their wives, some alone—are holding a reunion in Ogden Valley this weekend [August 9]. Thursday afternoon, the first half-dozen arrivals sat in the shade of an awning, listening to the wind and telling stories of their time together more than three decades ago. It will be a laid-back weekend. They’ll have a couple of cookouts, see Utah’s sights and watch the Mormon Tabernacle Choir on Sunday (Brown’s wife is a member). They’ll also hold a brief memorial for their buddies who have died. But mostly, they just plan to talk. Brown said the reunion all started about eight months ago when Beights and another man who had stayed in touch decided to start looking up the other guys. They’re not getting any younger, so it seemed like the right time. It wasn’t easy. A few got together once in the early 1980s, but mostly all they had were those original addresses from 1971. They called people with the same last names in those towns, asking, “Do you know this guy?” and chasing down leads. Thousands of calls later, Brown said, they had found more than 30. “Let’s meet at my place,” he said, and here they are. About 20 were expected to make the trip from all over. The first six were Beights from Denver; Greg Manning from California; Gary Hearne from Arlington, Texas; Rey Blazon from Grand Junction, Co.; Dave Lehman from Brandon, Iowa; and Brad Bogart from Warren, Pennsylvania. They are in their mid-50s now, with graying hair and wrinkly smiles. In 1970, said Brown, “Our average age was 18.” They thought they were men, but now know differently. One man who could not be at the reunion was their company commander, Capt. Gilbert Tijerina, of Texas, for whom the men have nothing but praise. “He used to talk like we were his kids,” Brown said, “and he was 23.” “Well, he kept us kids alive,” Bogart said. The men talked a lot, but nobody mentioned casualties. Brown said before the reunion to expect that. The platoon did have losses, but those But they never forgot. The bond of memories, still unhealed, are what kept having been together in combat never left some away from this weekend and still them. trouble those who came. “I haven’t seen these guys for 35 years,” Beights said. “I’d pick up the phone and it was like yesterday. We can talk like we never stopped.” From the front of the house, they hear a motorcycle roaring up North Fork Drive. “That would be Ray,” someone said. Cleveland resident Ray Luttner and his wife on a Harley. So the talk, as they sat, was of the ordinary, the day-to-day. “I was out on OP (outside perimeter), and all of a sudden, the bush starts crackling,” Hearne said. “And I thought, here’s something, the whole North Vietnamese Army, and I look and there’s six monkeys jumping around.” “We were moving out one morning, and they sent a squad of us out just to see what’s going,” Beights said. “We get out there and I sit down and look off the side of the trail, and there’s hundreds of punji stakes in the grass.” Punji stakes were concealed and sharpened pieces of bamboo set into the ground, a crude but effective booby trap. “So I’m thinking, ‘We don’t want to sit here any more. If they jump up over there, you just naturally jump this way (into the stakes), and you’re full of holes real fast.” Someone raised the subject of their families, sweethearts, wives back home. Actually, Brown said, families back home were a mixed blessing. “It was a big plus not to have any relationship at all.” Few of the guys were old enough to be married, but there was always the danger of a “Dear John” letter from a girlfriend, or letters full of problems from back home that would distract a soldier. “And you had to be focused on what you were doing,” Brown said. “You’d get a letter and read it and be so glad, and then feel sad. It was love-hate.” What did they do when they came home? “We’re alive,” Beights said. “That’s all that counts.” “Came home, married the sweetheart and had kids,” Blazon said. The air vibrated as the massive blackand-chrome machine eased down the driveway. All the men and most of the women went over, surrounding the smiling driver, slapping his back, shaking his hand. Blazon stood back, then went up and introduced himself. Because the men served in Vietnam in overlapping tours, not all were in the platoon at the same time. Blazon hesitated, not sure if he had served with Luttner. “I don’t know if we knew each other,” he said. “Well,” Luttner said with a smile, “we know each other now,” and wrapped Blazon in a bear hug. Note: This article is being reprinted by permission of the Standard-Examiner. |