Behind the Wall: Selby’s Long YearBy Mary Lynn Heath
Selby awoke without opening his eyes. The room echoed with groans and hushed chatter. His hand was tied above his head and throbbing. Am I captured? he thought.
And then the memory of the ambush rushed into his pounding head. As usual he readily returned the machine gunfire from atop of his Armored Personnel Carrier with his M60. Then the enemy’s sharp bullet pierced his left hand. It went through the fleshy part between the index finger and the thumb. No big deal, he thought at first -- he’d been hurt before. The shrapnel scars on his hip and shoulder could testify to the assaults his body had endured from atop “Lech” the name Kenny Kreutz – his crew’s commander -- had given their tank.
Now “Sel” guessed he was in an Army hospital, but he still wasn’t sure how he got there. Iron beds lined the walls of the echoing room. He thought there must be about 100 of them. He wondered how long he had been unconscious. His hand was oozing and pulsing hot. Infection had most certainly set in. He assumed the IV entering his arm was pumping penicillin into his body to fight it.
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Selby thought about his life the past eight months in Vietnam, riding in and combating from his Army APC. He had been living with three others in a tight dark, jostling hole that rolled on caterpillar treads. They ate, slept, talked and fought together in and on Lech—their source of shelter, weapons and defense. Inside, the vehicle was unbearably hot. No air conditioning, almost no air at all. And the dark green metal had all day to heat the inside like an oven.
During the steamy, stinking days they rolled through the Michelin rubber tree orchard, the bumpy, dirty roads near the Cambodian border and small poverty- ridden villages. They were looking for enemy arms and supplies — anything to indicate where “Charlie” would strike next.
They liked to roll near the villages best, where ammo was seldom exchanged, and they could see children, families and life other than war. The children were always so cute with their dark eyes, tawny skin and messy hair. Selby and Kenny would give them a few coins when they could. At times the youth and older children would sell them ice cream and trinkets.
At night they camped, when they weren’t fighting in an ambush. The Vietnamese foe seemed to love to battle in darkness. One of the crew members always sacrificed his sleep to take a turn to stand watch.
Sometimes the ambushes came in the day -- sometimes at high noon. From his hospital bead Selby’s mind replayed the worst day of his life, just two long months ago…
Kenny, Sel and their crew were riding on the square iron horse through Binh Long near the Cambodian border. Seven other APC’s were in his fleet and they received a call on the radio to help another cavalry squadron which had encountered enemy fire. Heeding the call, Lech could travel about 30 mph. They pushed every bit of that to get to the others quickly.
Suddenly, they ran into a U-shaped ambush. Enemy fire whirled and popped near Selby’s head. The machine guns rattled and shook the tank, a feeling with which he was all too familiar. But this time men were hit. All the men on Selby’s tank were hit. Kenny, his commander and best friend, was shot—instantly and mortally wounded. Not letting his emotions catch up with his body, Selby had to remove his beloved friend and wounded buddies into nearby brush. With angry adrenaline, Sel kept firing until the other tanks could evacuate the area.
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The firefight lasted about 20 minutes. But really it was just one terrible split second that was the difference between his best friend breathing or dying. In just a fraction of a second the bullet entered Kenny’s middle, and took his life as it exited his back. The papers called it a “skirmish” and Spec 4 Selby E. Egender Jr. received the Silver Star. It didn’t matter. He would have rather kept his best friend.
Selby grimaced from the memory and his physical pain. Then he realized tears were stinging his eyes, dampening his vinyl pillow. His shoulder was beginning to spasm, as his hand was still fastened to the bar above his head. He could take it down only to eat and to go to the latrine.
Selby spent two weeks in the Saigon Military hospital with nothing to do but remember his violent, nauseating year. He had been a soldier since December 1968, just 12 months and less than a year “in country.” Now it felt like at least a decade. He missed his little girls back in Oklahoma, Shelby and Ginger. They were just six and three and he needed to get back to being their dad, even if he wasn’t a husband any longer. He was ready to finish the month of cavalry duty he had left and get the heck out of Vietnam!
In January of 1970, after a short stint on a Fire Support Base where tanks were serviced and replenished, Selby’s tour of duty was finally complete. He was going back to Oklahoma City to build the life the war interrupted.
Shortly after Selby returned, he met Betty a strong, beautiful woman. He could see his future in her eyes and wanted to make a life with her, starting yesterday. He wanted roots and a stable life for his vivacious little girls. He wanted a home that didn’t roll on treads. During that same year, on September 22, Betty’s birthday, the two married. She accepted Selby’s daughters with open arms. A few years later they had a boy to add to the family, Selby E. Egender III. All three children graduated from Piedmont High School.
Now Betty and Selby live in Piedmont on their small farm with 25 cows and a bull. Selby sold his drywall business and retired in 2003. They enjoy their seven grandchildren ages 2 to 24 years old. Selby still has nightmares occasionally and sleeps fitfully almost every night. He will always remember the terrifying year he had in Vietnam. He will always remember the brother he never had, Kenny Kreutz.
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Selby E. Egender Jr. served his country in the U.S. Army from December 13, 1968 to January 23, 1970. During that time he received the Silver Star, three Purple Hearts, and a Bronze Star with valor. Altogether he was honored with 13 medals.
Visiting Piedmont this summer during the 4th of July holiday weekend the Dignity Memorial® Vietnam Wall will honor all Vietnam Veterans who gave the ultimate sacrifice for their country—their lives. July 2-5, the Memorial will be open 24 hours a day at Stout Field; free to all. To volunteer to help host the Dignity Memorial® Vietnam Wall please contact Brooke Kuns: brookek@piedmont-ok.gov at Piedmont City Hall at 373-2621.
Photo from the TROPIC LIGHTNING NEWS July 6, 1970
Selby Egender served in the 3rd Battalion, 11th Cavalry and used an Armored Personnel Carrier, like this one, in combat in Vietnam near Cambodia.