Behind the Wall: Dan’s Long NightsBy Mary Lynn Heath
The ground was rocking like a seven point five earthquake. Whistling rockets were diving, the bunks threatened to topple as the metal hooch clanged and quivered. Shrapnel sliced into the building as though it were butter. The most terrifying part of the rocket attack was when the whistling stopped -- the two to three seconds before impact. In those seconds Dan just waited hoping the rocket wasn’t coming down on top of him.
Dan thought to himself, what a far cry this is from the PanAm 707 jet we flew into Vietnam. The food, the stewardesses, for a second this seemed pretty nice. Nevermind when we landed I hesitated to get off the plane. I didn’t see any Americans! All I saw were Vietnamese! I guessed the enemy must have already taken Saigon…
Constant fire isn’t something one gets used to, but during his first 180 days in country Dan’s Air Force compound had been under fire 156 times. He and the rough wood of his bunker floor were getting quite intimate. During rocket fire the men were trained to “get low.” His raw and splintered skin peeled and burned as he crawled for cover once again.
Dan thought, if only I could grab my weapon and fight back! If only I could defend myself! But rocket attacks didn’t allow that. The enemy was too far away to shoot, and the Buck Sergeant was needed here, on base to help man the radar. Dan’s small compound at Dong Ha, south of the demilitarized zone, was under constant fire because it housed the radar he operated – the control central for aircraft attacking enemy positions in the area.
It was February and the North Vietnamese Army’s Tet Offensive was in full force. The rocket attacks generally came at night—it seemed like every night. Late one evening, Dan’s commanding officer told him that there was a good chance his compound would be overrun by morning. The words knotted his stomach with anxiety, with fear.
Across the burm a Marine Artillery Camp housed a refridgerated truck where fallen soldiers in green body bags were loaded to return to the United States. Dan guaged “how the war was going” by how many of them were lined up to be loaded. The reminder especially sobered him during the rare quiet times when he could think and reflect.
When Dan was 16 his father died and he had to grow up suddenly. Two years later, believing that he would be drafted, he enlisted in the Air Force. That very same day, he received a draft notice from the Army, and was offered a job at the United States Post Office. The Air Force was a good choice, as it offered him more technical career training.
Dan was the man in his family. His military wages were sent to his mother and four younger siblings in Kansas City, Missouri. Getting overun by the NVA was not a proposition he could accept. They just didn’t need that kind of sadness again, he thought. I can’t let them lose me too.
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The night passed painstakingly slow. With each life threatening explosion, Dan’s muscles tightened until he was stiff as a mummy. At last, the bugle played "Reveille"over the compound’s speakers marking a new morning. The sun’s hazy light illuminated the sliced up metal buildings. Sandbags around the perimeter were needled with artillery shells. Bunkers were beat up, but the radar was unscathed. The base went back to work, humming with the business of war.
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Later in 1969 Dan’s tour of duty was complete and he returned to Kansas City to his mother and his brothers and sisters. He accepted a job with Dial Financial paying much better than what he made in the military.
While at Dial he met Margie, a beautiful brunette with a warm smile, but sad eyes. The war had somehow aged him and stolen his innocence. That same war had stolen Margie’s husband, Larry Welsh, who was MIA. The sadness of war gave them a lot in common.
Dan sympathized with Margie. She had been through a lot. He remembered the body bags that waited by the refrigerated truck at the Marine artillery base. All those widows, mothers, fathers and brothers had a body to mourn. They still didn’t know about Margie’s Larry.
Eventually during their friendship, Dan saw light in Margie’s eyes and indeed she seemed much better in his presence. With Dan’s easy demeanor and quick jokes she even learned to laugh again. In February 1974 Margie’s husband Larry Welsh’s status was changed from MIA to MIA presumed dead. It was time for a new beginning. The two friends fell in love.
On September 3, 1974 Margie and Dan married. After working for Dial Financial, Dan and Margie moved to Oklahoma City where Dan joined the management team of Union Bank. They eventually planted roots in Piedmont where they raised their beautiful daughter Kimberly. She now lives in San Antonio with her husband and sons.
Dan accepted a position with F&M Bank in 2004, and Margie came on board from 2005 to 2007. Dan left F&M Bank in January of 2009. The couple is having a ball being grandparents to Kimberly’s young boys.
Every day the sun comes up is a blessing for the family. Dan and Margie don’t take their lives for granted. Many soldiers, including Dan, endured long, violent, deafening nights for Americans to remain free. Many soldiers’ bodies returned in refrigerated boxes. And many didn’t return at all.
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Note: The Vietnam Memorial Wall in Washington DC names 58,260 soldiers who died in the Vietnam War or have been declared Missing in Action. The Dignity Memorial® Vietnam Wall, a three-quarter sized replica, will be in Piedmont at Stout Field July 2nd through 5th. To volunteer to help host the Dignity Memorial® Vietnam Wall during the 4th of July weekend please contact Brooke Kuns: brookek@piedmont-ok.gov at Piedmont City Hall at 373-2621. For updates on The Dignity Memorial® Vietnam Wall visit the Piedmont community website: www.piedmontok.org