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From Russ Vaughn:

The Quiet Americans

In response to a piece I posted at several websites, “I Don’t Know War,” which I did not author but merely passed along, I received a very moving letter from a nurse who operates her own blog in her very limited spare time. She wrote,

“I have a great many men in my family who have been in the military besides my dad. And the piece you sent me really hits the nail on the head. It also nearly made me cry as it made me think of my World War II uncles.”

This lady then goes on to recount her memories of her family’s contributions.

Continue reading "The Quiet Americans"... »
“My Uncle Wayne was in the Army… I do not know what unit or much of anything he did because he never talked about it.”

He went through the Battle of the Bulge and came out with one sock and his dog tags after a bomb exploded near him. He spent 6 months in a hospital in England.”

“We had a family reunion at his home and being a bored teenager I went into his garden shed. I knocked over a cigar box, which spilled out several old medals. I felt very guilty for having knocked them on the floor. Later on the way home I asked my mom about it and why would he keep such important things in a cigar box in the garden shed. It was then I learned that Uncle Wayne had gone through some horrendous things.”

“I also learned why he was a truck driver. When he came home from the war he went back to farming, but the open spaces [were] frightening to him. Certain noises would have him crawling under the hay wagon or tractor. He became a truck driver because the closed in space made him feel safe. I had a great deal of trouble imagining my Uncle Wayne afraid of anything. He was about 6'6", lean and wiry, a handsome man. In my mind he was as close as someone could be to John Wayne without actually being John Wayne. I know he was in many other battles liberating Belgium but never, ever did he speak of these things.”

“Uncle Dick was in the Philippines; I never knew Uncle Dick to work; he was 80% disabled after the war. He had difficulty walking and the malaria he picked up in the Philippines sometimes came back. He was a gentle loving man, with a wonderful sense of humor. He never spoke about the war at all that I can remember, not one word.”

“Uncle Dale was a tail gunner out of England. I knew he had been in the war, but never knew what it was he did until I did my genealogy on my dad's side of the family and contacted a distant cousin in Missouri, who lived up the road from my Uncle Dale and his mother's farm. The only reason this cousin, Sam, knew was because shortly after Uncle Dale died, someone showed up at the farm looking for Uncle Dale. According to this elderly gentleman Uncle Dale had saved his life after a plane had to be ditched, and this gentleman wanted to thank Uncle Dale.”

“Sam took this gentleman to where Uncle Dale is buried, where the man sat on the gravesite and told about his life. For years Sam had lived near Uncle Dale and they had helped one another with their farms; and yet my cousin never even knew that Uncle Dale had been in the war. Uncle Dale stayed in the service retiring from the Air Force, and then working not only his farm, but in the state hospital.”

Uncle Mac fought in the Pacific theatre. According to my grandfather, his brother, Uncle Mac at one point had the man that was in a foxhole with him get his throat slit in the middle of the night, waking to this ghastly site. He hopped from island to island for some two years. Uncle Mac was a practical joker, a tall lanky man who loved to have children around him. I learned Uncle Mac's story from my grandpa.

“My grandpa was a barber for over 50 years, running his own business. He worked five days a week and every other Sunday was reserved to go to the VA and do free haircuts there. When I was about ten, I asked him why he would take his day off to do this, and he informed me that he had not been able to fight in the war because he was flat footed and didn't pass the physical so until he was unable to do so he would use what little ability he had to give to those who had gone to war “in his place.”

“All of these men have since passed away. I never knew my Uncle Dale well because he lived such a distance from me, but all the others were an integral part of my life growing up. All the things I know about them and their time in WWII comes from other family members. It was something that none of the men who were there actually talked about.”

“My Uncle Wayne had 6 boys, one died of leukemia at 4 years old. Out of the others, all but one went into the service. One of those is my cousin Gary Lee. He spent 30 years as a Marine, did two tours of Vietnam and while John Kerry was protesting, Gary Lee was shot, losing part of one lung and some of his intestines. I know that because my mom told me, Gary never talks about it.”

“My mom and step dad have a good friend who is older than they are; Burley is a wonderful guy and loves my children as if they were his own grandchildren. Burley was in the 101st Airborne in WWII. One day I made a comment to my mom about how Burley has such an affinity for my youngest son, who is 8. My mom became very serious and told me a story, the only story that Burley has ever told her about being in war except for that he cannot tolerate being cold after having fought in the Battle of the Bulge with no coat and no way to get warm.”

“At some point while in Belgium the group that Burley was with went through a town that had been bombed and the people had all left. He was rounding a corner to go into a barn when he heard an odd noise. He found a little boy about 5 or so. No other people could be found. The child did not speak English and could not tell them if he had lost his parents or if they were dead or anything at all. The soldiers fed him and did what they could; they kept him with them as long as they could. When they were ordered to the front, they got him as close to another town as they could, gave him all the food they had, and then they had to leave this little boy by himself.”

“Not knowing what happened to this child weighs on Burley's mind every day of his life. My son, the only blond except for my mom in the family, reminds Burley of this little boy. I'm not sure that I can even imagine what emotional pain Burley still carries with him from the war, yet he does not speak of it, even when asked. In the 15 years or so that my parents have been friends with him the only thing he has talked about is the little boy and why he keeps his house about 80 degrees in the winter time.”

“These people, these men are the true heroes. John Kerry is nothing, absolutely nothing. I knew my grandpa, the one who was a barber, to cry only once. That was when we lived in Hawaii and my grandparents came to visit, the only real vacation they ever took. Both he and my dad wept when we went to the Arizonia memorial. As a young girl of 7 years old, it was an amazing event to see both my dad and my grandpa cry, and it made a huge impact on me.”

“I know this is long, and I thank you for reading it. I just wanted you to know what an impact your message had on me. I had great respect and love for the men I told you about, and though my own children do not remember them I make sure they know their stories and what great men they were. In the end they were each ordinary Americans who came off their farms to fight the evil that was WWII, and by doing so they have come to epitomize to me what America is all about: the citizen soldiers that our founders envisioned.”

“To me, John Kerry is a sad caricature of what a true hero is. A man who not only spit on everything I hold dear to my heart, but one who has lived on the largesse of the American citizens and his wives, not someone who has ever worked hard for a damn thing in his life.”

“So thank you again, and I will post your message, it is one that I hope gives many people much to think about as it did me.”

Aside from the enormous contribution this one American family has made in its service to this country, what resonated for me was the self-effacing manner of those who served. As the italicized quotes demonstrate, these men did not boast of their wartime service or their medals. In fact, most of them spoke of it not at all. Nor did Harry Truman, Dwight Eisenhower, John Kennedy, George H. W. Bush and Bob Dole. As those who have served and their families know, real heroes don’t brag.

So what does that tell you about John Kerry?

Russ Vaughn
2d Bn, 327th Parachute Infantry Regiment
101st Airborne Division
Vietnam 65-66

Postscript: I have received some criticism for signing my writings with my military credentials. As I have explained previously, I do so not to boast, but to establish my right to question John Kerry’s war record and to let other vets know that I’ve been there, as I know that is one of the first questions that arises in the mind of a reader who has been in combat, “What the hell does he know about it?” Well, as a former combat infantryman, I know enough. Like most who fought in Vietnam, I was just a grunt who did his job, certainly no hero; but I knew and served with heroes. AND NONE OF THEM BRAGGED ABOUT IT. But based on the events that led to John Kerry getting a Silver Star, we should have had several hundred of them awarded in my battalion of paratroopers.

Russ, I, for one, hope you'll continue to include your military credentials in the things you write and allow others to post. I myself am in no sense a hero (although I am starting to wonder what you aren't telling us), but I also feel my status as a Viet Nam veteran is something that might matter to people wondering about my "standing" to be so pro-G.I., so pro-veteran, and so rabidly anti-Kerry. As an additional reminder, some may have noted that I served in "Viet Nam," not "Vietnam." I think the people of The Republic of Viet Nam probably knew what country they lived in.

Bill Faith
14th and 8th Aerial Port Squadrons
PACAF
Viet Nam, 1971-1972
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MJB
USAF '85-'92