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Preface
- University of North Texas Press
- Chapter
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Preface In response to the suicide of Admiral Jeremy Boorda, the Chief of Naval Operations, on 16 May 1996, retired Marine Lieutenant General Bernard E. Trainor wrote, "Within the armed forces the distinction between a combatveteran and one who has not seen combat is significant. It is a gulf that exists until one bridges it in a test by fire." He added that, "When civilians first meet, they assess each other by dress, grooming, voice and other characteristics. When service people meet for the first time, they immediately look at the ribbons each wears."l Thirty-one years earlier, in 1965, I was wearing a red-and-blue ribbon for good conduct and a redand -yellow ribbon for having been on active duty during the Korean War. In March of 1965 a battalion ofMarines landed in the northern part ofSouth Vietnam, soon followed by two more battalions, all ofwhom spearheaded the deployment ofthe Third Marine Amphibious Force to I Corps. On 28 April 1965, President Lyndon B. Johnson ordered Marines into the Dominican Republic, for what would be almost a classic thirty-day amphibious operation. It seemed to me that every Marine in the Marine Corps was doing what he was paid to do except me. I had completed almost sixteen years ofservice. I was a senior captain, freshly graduated from a pair vii viii • The Bridges ofVietnam of intelligence schools at the U.S. Army Intelligence Training Center at Fort Holabird, Maryland, and slated for a four-year desk job at the Defense Intelligence Agency (DIA) in Washington. The only shots ever fired at me had been by my own sentries in 1960, when I failed to stop when challenged while checking posts at a place called Clarksville Base, in Tennessee. There was a strong possibility that I would retire upon twenty years of service without ever stepping foot in a war zone. During the Korean War I had possessed a military occupational specialty (MOS) that offered no assignments in Korea. As a corporal during 1951 and 1952 at the Marine Barracks at Great Lakes, Illinois, I had performed a monthly ritual. On the first working day of each month, I would snap to attention in front ofMaster Sergeant George A. Candea's desk. "I want to change my MOS, and volunteer for Korea," I'd say. George, a slim, hawk-faced, beribboned veteran ofWorld War II, would raise his eyebrows, wrinkle his brow, and throw me a sarcastic grin. "Okay, Edwards, you've done your patriotic duty. Now get the fuck out of here and go back to work." In spite of his customary response, George eventually told me privately that he, too, was professionally embarrassed because so many of his peers were in Korea. He concluded however that, if he could carry out his orders to shuffle papers in the States, I could by God carry out mine. Ten years later as a junior captain I took command of the Marine Detachment on the Essex-class carrier, USS Bon Homme Richard. President John F. Kennedy had decided to intervene in Vietnam, and was creating the U.S. MilitaryAssistance Command, which Army General Paul Harkins would command. American military men in country2 would soon quadruple from 3,200 to 11,300. Big things were happening and I wanted to be a part of them. I convinced the ship's captain that I should take a thirty-day indoctrination tour in Vietnam in order to become a contingency briefing expert for the pilots of the ship's Carrier Air Group 19. With the skipper's blessing , and a Val Pak suitcase and a set of orders in hand, I left the ship at White Beach, Okinawa, on Christmas Day of 1961. I hitched a plane ride from the U.S. Air Force Base at Kadena to the Marine Corps Air Station at Iwakuni,Japan, to seek further transportation into Vietnam. [3.236.18.23] Project MUSE (2024-03-19 10:37 GMT) Preface. ix On the morning of 26 December, I queued up outside a Marine transport plane with a group ofenlisted Marines wearingjungle uniforms and Aussie-style hats, and the new AR-15 rifles. At the ramp the loadmaster frowned at my conventional utility uniform and said, ''You're wearing the wrong kind of uniform, sir." My written orders failed to change his mind, and in fact perplexed him. He said that I should check in with the G-1 (Personnel) office of the 1st Marine Air Wing...