Memorial Day 2014 - Remembering The Fallen

Memorial Day 2011 - Remember The Fallen

During this Memorial Day weekend, while we are enjoying hot dogs on the grill, a day at the beach, a swim in the pool, or just the companionship of our family and friends, please remember the American warriors who have given their lives that we might live in peace and safety.

Please watch this video and pass it on:



Those of us who have served in America's wars will never forget our comrades who made the ultimate sacrifice. You may read about those from our most recent wars on the "Honor the Fallen" website HERE. You can read about our Vietnam fallen HERE at the Vietnam Memorial website.

As a veteran of both Vietnam and Operation Iraqi Freedom, I hope that you will pray for the fallen and for those who are still serving in harm's way on our behalf...

Charles M. Grist
www.MyLastWar.com

Memorial Day 2010 - Remembering Our Lost Warriors

I have fought a good fight
I have finished my course
I have kept the faith.

Timothy 2:4:7

I remember the 18-year-old kid from Tennessee who let me use his transistor radio, the baby-faced private from North Carolina with the big grin, the staff sergeant and the two sergeants stretched out in body bags at my feet. All of their names are on the Vietnam wall because they gave their lives for their country.

I also remember one particular lieutenant.

Late in 1970, after several months as an infantry platoon leader, I got sick as a dog one morning after we returned to the firebase. At first the medics thought it was malaria, but it was another miserable jungle virus, and I was laid up in the rear area for about a month. Unfortunately, another lieutenant was sent to take over my platoon.

When I recovered, I asked the battalion commander to re-assign me to another platoon in the field. He said he would let me fill the next platoon leader vacancy. When the lieutenant for the second platoon of Bravo Company rotated back to the States, I politely reminded the battalion commander of his promise.

He was nice about it, but he said he was sending another lieutenant to take over that platoon. I had gotten to know this young officer from our chess games in a firebase bunker. He was a West Point graduate and a career officer who needed the field time, so the commander said I could have the next platoon.

Less than two weeks later, the West Pointer and his men walked up on an NVA bunker complex. Along with several other soldiers, he was killed when a North Vietnamese soldier detonated a Chinese claymore mine. If I had been in command of that platoon as originally planned, I would have been the one killed.

Years later I stood in front of the Vietnam Memorial in Washington, D.C. and stared at the engraving of the lieutenant's name. Only a quirk of fate put his name there instead of mine.

There are now those from Iraq and Afghanistan who don’t yet have their own place in Washington, D.C., but whose names will one day appear on a monument for Operation Iraqi Freedom and Operation Enduring Freedom. They have sacrificed everything in this new war just because their country needed them.

From Bunker Hill to Baghdad, America’s warriors have given their lives to defend this nation and its allies from those who would enslave or kill our fellow citizens. On battlefields in Iraq, Afghanistan and other countries throughout the world, we continue to lose our sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, fathers and mothers as they protect our way of life with honor and valor.

Those of us who have fought in America’s wars will never forget the faces of our comrades. We will remember them when they were laughing, sharing a meal, missing their families or lying dead in a body bag. They will always be in our hearts and souls.

We hope that, on this Memorial Day, all of you will remember them, too.

Charles M. Grist
www.MyLastWar.com

Thoughts for Memorial Day 2009

I have fought a good fight,
I have finished my course,
I have kept the faith.

Timothy 2:4:7

I remember the 18-year-old kid from Tennessee who let me use his transistor radio, the baby-faced private from North Carolina with the big grin, the two sergeants and one staff sergeant who were killed on the same day. There are others whose names, God forgive me, I cannot recall. All of their names are on the Vietnam wall because they gave their lives for their country.

I also remember one particular lieutenant.

Late in 1970, after several months as an infantry platoon leader, I got sick as a dog one morning after we returned to the firebase. At first the medics thought it was malaria, but it was just some other jungle virus, and I was laid up in the rear area for about a month. Unfortunately, another lieutenant was sent to take over my platoon.

When I recovered, I asked the battalion commander to re-assign me to another platoon, and he said he would let me fill the next platoon leader vacancy. When the lieutenant for the second platoon of Bravo Company rotated back to the States, I politely reminded the battalion commander of his promise.

He was nice about it, but he said he was sending another lieutenant to take over that platoon. I got to know the other officer from our chess games in a firebase bunker. He was a West Point graduate and a career officer who needed the field time, so the commander said I could have the next platoon.

Less than two weeks later, the West Pointer and his men walked up on an NVA bunker complex. Along with several other soldiers, he was killed when a North Vietnamese soldier detonated a Chinese claymore mine. If I had been in command of that platoon as originally planned, I would have been the one killed.

Years later, I stood in front of the Vietnam Memorial in Washington, D.C. and stared at the engraving of the young lieutenant's name. Only a quirk of fate put his name there instead of mine.

Now there are those from Iraq and Afghanistan who don’t have their own place in Washington, D.C. yet, but whose names will one day appear on a monument for Operation Iraqi Freedom and Operation Enduring Freedom. They have sacrificed everything in this new war on terror just because their country needed them.

From Bunker Hill to Baghdad, America’s warriors have given their lives to defend this nation from those who would enslave or kill our fellow citizens. On battlefields in Iraq, Afghanistan, and other countries throughout the world, we continue to lose our sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, fathers, and mothers as they protect our way of life with honor and valor.

Those of us who fought in America’s wars will never forget the faces of our comrades. We will remember them when they were laughing, sharing a meal, missing their families, or lying dead in a body bag. They will always be in our hearts and souls.

We hope that, on this Memorial Day, all of you will remember them, too.

Charles M. Grist
www.TheCobraTeam.com
www.AmericanRanger.blogspot.com

Memorial Day 2008: We Must Never Forget

I have fought a good fight
I have finished my course
I have kept the faith.

Timothy 2:4:7

The following posting is much the same as it was when I first added it to this blog for Memorial Day in 2007:

* * * *

I remember the 18-year-old kid from Tennessee who let me use his transistor radio, the baby-faced private from North Carolina with the big grin, Staff Sergeant James, Sergeant Brezinski and Sergeant Dowjotas. There are others whose names, God forgive me, I cannot recall. All of their names are on the Vietnam wall because they gave their lives for their country.

I also remember Lieutenant King.

Late in 1970, after several months as an infantry platoon leader, I got sick as a dog one morning after we returned to the firebase. At first the medics thought it was malaria, but it was just some other type of jungle virus and I was laid up in the rear area for about a month. Unfortunately, another lieutenant was sent to take over my platoon.

When I recovered, I asked the battalion commander to re-assign me to another platoon. He said he would let me fill the next platoon leader vacancy. When the lieutenant for the second platoon of Bravo Company rotated back to the States, I politely reminded the battalion commander of his promise.

He was nice about it, but he said he was sending Lieutenant Thomas P. King to take over that platoon. I had gotten to know King from our chess games in a firebase bunker. King was a West Point graduate and a career officer who needed the field time, so the commander said I could have the next platoon.

Less than two weeks later, Lieutenant King and his men walked up on an NVA bunker complex. Along with several other soldiers, he was killed when a North Vietnamese soldier detonated a Chinese claymore mine. If I had been in command of that platoon as originally planned, I would have been the one killed.

Years later I stood in front of the Vietnam Memorial in Washington, D.C. and stared at the engraving of King’s name. Only a quirk of fate put his name there instead of mine.

Now there are those from Iraq and Afghanistan who don’t have their own place in Washington, D.C. yet, but whose names will one day appear on a monument for Operation Iraqi Freedom and Operation Enduring Freedom. They have sacrificed everything in this new war just because their country needed them.

From Bunker Hill to Baghdad, America’s warriors have given their lives to defend this nation and its allies from those who would enslave or kill our fellow citizens. On battlefields in Iraq, Afghanistan and other countries throughout the world, we continue to lose our sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, fathers and mothers as they protect our way of life with honor and valor.

Those of us who have fought in America’s wars will never forget the faces of our comrades. We will remember them when they were laughing, sharing a meal, missing their families or lying dead in a body bag. They will always be in our hearts and souls.

We hope that, on this Memorial Day, all of you will remember them, too.

SFC Chuck Grist
www.AmericanRanger.blogspot.com

The First Day of My First War: September, 1970

It was right after sunrise when the explosion of the claymore mine shook the ground. I was the new guy, so I foolishly looked around before I fell onto my stomach. The rest of the soldiers in my new platoon were already behind their weapons and they were ready for anything that might happen next.

God they moved fast.

I was the new lieutenant, so I joined my platoon sergeant and a couple of other soldiers as we moved slowly toward what was now a kill zone. I had never before seen live or dead enemy soldiers and I admit I was a little nervous. The platoon sergeant was aware of this and that was the reason he suggested I come along. He wanted to see my reaction to dead bodies and maybe he figured I would throw up or something.

The exploding claymore had cleared out a small section of the jungle. As we reached the edge of the kill zone, I could see human forms stretched out on the trail. (The above photo shows a later kill zone.) I started to approach them, but the platoon sergeant grabbed my arm and said, “Just a minute, L.T.; they look dead, but maybe they’re not.” Then he opened fire with his M16, spraying the bodies with bullets.

“Now we know they’re dead,” said the sergeant and we moved toward the corpses.

There were two dead enemy soldiers lying on the trail. We would learn that one of them was a Viet Cong, a South Vietnamese communist guerrilla. The man in the lead was a North Vietnamese soldier. He carried a folding stock AK which was still in the same position it must have been when he was walking – left hand on the front stock, right hand next to the trigger. The claymore knocked him over like a domino.

I walked up to the NVA, kneeled down, removed the AK from his lifeless grip and handed it to one of my other soldiers. At that moment the eyes of the dead body met mine. The soldier died with his eyes open and an “oh, shit” expression on his face. I realized at that moment that I was staring into the eyes of death for the first time.

Other than being dead, the most noticeable thing about this NVA was that one of his legs was neatly severed just below the knee. The severed leg was only a few inches from his body, but it was my first lesson in how a claymore mine can mutilate a human being.

As the other soldiers worked on searching the VC, I continued my search of his late friend. I removed his backpack, hat, belt and other equipment from the body and then searched his pockets for anything of intelligence value. The platoon sergeant was watching both searches and he was probably disappointed I didn’t cough up my last C ration.

During my search I came upon a scarf. It was dark blue and on one corner was the embroidered name of the dead man; on the opposite corner was the name of a girl surrounded by flowers. According to my Cambodian Kit Carson scout, this was a souvenir given to him by a wife or girlfriend. Now she would never lay eyes on him again.

We finished our searches and the platoon sergeant pulled the pin on a grenade and put it under the body of the NVA as a booby trap. If his friends returned to get his remains, they would get a fatal surprise as soon as they moved him. We returned to the platoon with the weapons and property of the dead soldiers and our war continued.

The other day I was in my attic going through an old duffel bag and I found the NVA waterproof bag I took from this dead enemy soldier. When I opened the bag, the smell of NVA sweat rose from the contents. Still folded up with the guy’s boonie hat and belt was the blue scarf embroidered with the names and the flowers.

It has been almost thirty-seven years since this kill zone, but I still don’t feel guilty that my platoon killed men who would have certainly killed us. I came to learn that war is surely the survival of the fittest as well as the luckiest.

I have now survived two wars and I know that I did so because of a combination of skill, luck and the fact that the odds were in my favor. Most soldiers will survive their combat tours, but the odds will run out for the rest.

On a jungle trail a long, long time ago, an NVA soldier’s time ran out when he died for what he believed in. Perhaps his last thought was of her and maybe just before he died he reached into his pocket to caress the scarf. In some ways, all soldiers are the same.

As I sat holding his lover’s scarf, I felt a brief moment of sadness for her. Then I remembered the soldiers I knew who were killed in Vietnam. I folded up the scarf, put it back in the bag and climbed out of the attic.

My wife asked me if there was anything wrong when I reached into the refrigerator for a beer.

SFC Chuck Grist
www.AmericanRanger.blogspot.com

Memorial Day, 2007: We Must Never Forget

I have fought a good fight,
I have finished my course,
I have kept the faith.

Timothy 2:4:7

I remember the 18-year-old kid from Tennessee who let me use his transistor radio, the baby-faced private from North Carolina with the big grin, Staff Sergeant James, Sergeant Brezinski and Sergeant Dowjotas. There are others whose names, God forgive me, I cannot recall. All of their names are on the Vietnam wall because they gave their lives for their country.

I also remember Lieutenant King.

Late in 1970, after several months as an infantry platoon leader with the First Cavalry Division (the First "Air" Cav), I got sick as a dog one morning after we returned to the firebase. At first the medics thought it was malaria, but it was some other jungle virus and I was laid up in the rear area for about a month. Unfortunately, another lieutenant was sent to take over my platoon.

When I recovered, I asked the battalion commander to re-assign me to another platoon. He said he would let me fill the next platoon leader vacancy. When the lieutenant for the second platoon of Bravo Company rotated back to the States, I politely reminded the battalion commander of his promise.

He was nice about it, but he said he was sending Lieutenant Thomas P. King to take over that platoon. I had gotten to know King from our chess games in a firebase bunker. King was a West Point graduate and a career officer who needed the field time, so the commander said I could have the next platoon.

Less than two weeks later, Lieutenant King and his men walked up on an NVA bunker complex. Along with several other soldiers, he was killed when a North Vietnamese soldier detonated a Chinese claymore mine. If I had been in command of that platoon as originally planned, I would have been the one killed.

Years later I stood in front of the Vietnam Memorial in Washington, D.C. and stared at the engraving of King’s name. Only a quirk of fate put his name there instead of mine.

Now there are those from Iraq who don’t have their own place in Washington, D.C. yet, but whose names will one day appear on the Operation Iraqi Freedom monument. They have sacrificed everything in this new war just because their country needed them.

From Bunker Hill to Baghdad, America’s warriors have given their lives to defend America and its allies from those who would enslave them. On battlefields in Iraq, Afghanistan and other countries throughout the world, we continue to lose our sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, fathers and mothers as they protect our way of life with honor and valor.

Those of us who have fought in America’s wars will never forget the faces of our comrades. We will remember them when they were laughing, sharing a meal or missing their families. They will always be in our hearts and souls.

We hope that, on this Memorial Day, all of you will remember them, too.

SFC Chuck Grist
www.AmericanRanger.blogspot.com