Suzanne Rice

Mar 19 2022

The New Shavetail – 1970

I arrived in Vietnam in August 1970 as a 1st Lieutenant and was assigned as a Platoon Leader of 2nd platoon, B troop of the 1st Battalion of the 1st Cavalry Regiment, which was often confused with the 1st Cavalry Division.

The difference was we were Armored Cav with tanks and Armored Personal Carriers (APC), and they were Air Cav with helicopters. During the big troop build-up, a couple of years earlier, the Americal Division was formed by combining existing units already in-country: the 3rd Brigade of the 25th infantry Division based in Hawaii, the 1st Brigade of the 101st Airborne Division, and the 196th Light Infantry Brigade. We were often attached to the 196th to provide some armor capabilities for their operations.
We spent most of our time out in the field running search and destroy operations, based at Firebase Hawk Hill, or Blackhawk Hill, or Hill 29 as it was variously called. My platoon was equipped with M551 Sheridan tanks, M-113 Armored Personnel Carriers, and M-113 ACAVs, which were APCs with more armor in front and a cupola on top with a .50-caliber machine gun. The Sheridan was a “light,” tank, only 17 tons fully loaded. It replaced the venerable, but heavier Patton tank, and had been designed to be airdropped with the airborne units. That meant it had an aluminum body and very little armor and designed primarily as a fast recon vehicle with a 152-millimeter main gun.

Intended for warfare in Europe, the Sheridan was configured to fire a Shillelagh missile, which could stop any tank in the world, or fire conventional rounds. However, even the conventional rounds were unusual in that the ammunition was “caseless,” – no brass casings. The casing was flammable and burned up in the gun when the round was fired. Due to some wiring glitches,the missile system was ineffective in Vietnam, and was removed from the Sheridans. My unit only fired HE.

**U.S. Forces on Route 9 – On to Laotian border (This is not a Sheraton)**

(high explosive) rounds and my favorite, the “beehive” round, was simply a large shotgun shell containing 5,000 – 7,000 flechettes (dart like projectiles that act much like a shotgun round). Unfortunately, the main gun often did not fire. Creatively, many platoon leaders worked around that glitch by “hot wiring” the gun – running an electrical wire from the tank battery and then touching the live wire to the main gun’s firing pin. Once you got the hang of it, it worked pretty well, but it could be very dangerous if you didn’t know what you were doing. Still, it beat having no gun at all.
My platoon normally had 35 men and ten vehicles. Three were Sheridan tanks and the rest were ACAVs or APCs. On a normal day, eight or nine vehicles would be available, and the others in for maintenance. We would go out about 25 kilometers, to the edge of the jungle, “circle the wagons” and conduct a series of 12-man patrols looking for the enemy.

It was usually two weeks out and one week back in base camp. During the two weeks out, the platoon searched for enemy base camps and tunnels, set up mechanical ambushes (mines placed on a trail or along a likely avenue of approach) along the trails, and then went into a night defensive position, circling up like a wagon train in the Wild West – guns out, 360-degree perimeter.

I was wounded twice in Vietnam and received two purple hearts, both times because of shrapnel from booby-traps. The first time, in October 1970, we were rolling through the countryside and came to a dry river crossing. We used a bangalore torpedo (an explosive charge placed within one or several connected tubes) to blow the crossing. A secondary explosion sent shrapnel my way and I did not duck fast enough. My father often reminded me that his army training taught him to duck. Then, in early January, my unit was operating in some very muddy terrain. We were seeking high ground and dry ground. My driver saw such an avenue of “escape” from the mud; however, there was barbed wire blocking the exit. My driver exited the APC and before I could stop him, he pulled on the barbed wire. He set off a booby-trapped grenade which sent shrapnel flying my way. As the driver exited the vehicle, I instinctively turned my back and the shrapnel hit me there. The driver received shrapnel wounds to the lower extremities and groin area. He lived and was sent home.
During one of the unit’s “search and destroy” missions, Viet Cong sappers (enemy demolition commandos trained in the skills of tiptoeing, duck-walking, crawling and other stealth movements used to penetrate a fortified area and avoid detection) and infantry ambushed our platoon. I radioed for fire support, but no army or air force assets were available. The forward observer then told me that the Navy had a cruiser offshore with 8-inch guns that could take on the fire mission. I immediately questioned whether I was going to trust the NAVY gunners, miles away, on a deck that was bobbing up and down in the waves? The forward observer assured me that the Navy was very good at close fire support. By this time the enemy was closing rapidly, perhaps a football field and a half away, so I requested the fire mission. Eight-inch high-explosive shells pack a major wallop, and those swabbies put them right on target, just in front of us, one after another, totally breaking up the enemy attack with earth-shaking detonations. I quickly realized that I was alive because of the United States Navy. After that, except on Army-Navy football game days, you won’t find me saying a bad word about the Navy.
Another activity in which the platoon participated was the turn-in of unexpended ammunition. The Americal Division established this turn-in place at the unit’s garbage dump and would buy back unexploded ammunition brought in by the locals. Gangs of local kids would go out, dig up “stuff”, and turn the “stuff” in for the money we were paying. I admit that it was very disconcerting to see an eight-year-old Vietnamese kid carrying a live 105 millimeter-howitzer round on his back; but we got hundreds of them like that. Better to have paid money that way than to have them turned into booby-traps by the VC.
In late January of 1971, my platoon was one of the lead units that reopened the road to Khe Sanh. This was the early stages of Lam Son 719. (https://thedaysforward.com/invading-laos-1971-part-1/; https://thedaysforward.com/invading-laos-1971-part-2/ ) We continued the mission all the way to the Laotian border. Of note, was the fact that American ground units were not permitted to cross into Laos during this operation. My unit was temporarily assigned a mission of preventing American units from crossing the border into Laos. As background, it is important to note that Lam Son 719 was a large, preemptive the Army of South Vietnam (ARVN) strike into Laos. Several Vietnamese divisions tried to cut off the Ho Chi Minh Trail, destroy the North Vietnamese Army (NVA) base camps and supply depots there, and disrupt their plans for a later invasion of South Vietnam. Unfortunately, it was poorly planned and executed. After advancing well into Laos without any major engagements, the ARVNs finally faced major NVA resistance, got themselves surrounded, and would have been wiped out if it hadn’t been for US airpower. It was very demoralizing to the Vietnamese government and to Washington. It was the precursor of even worse things to come with the NVA Easter Offensive in 1972 and then the NVA final offensive and subsequent fall of Saigon in March-April 1973.

**APC Stuck in the Mud Obstacle – More Mud**

The platoon continued to work the border area, attached to the 196th Light Infantry Brigade. During one such operation, my platoon came upon a major NVA bunker complex. That was when I lost my senses and decided to enter the complex and look for myself. It wasn’t long before I came face-to-face with an NVA soldier with an American .45-caliber pistol in his hand. He raised his; I raised mine. His weapon misfired; I captured him. When he was interrogated later, it turned out he was an NVA junior officer assigned to the Vietcong and subsequently shared a lot of invaluable information on enemy troop locations, arms caches, and the hospital.
I now had completed eight months with the Armored Cav, and my two-year detail to the armor branch was approaching the end. Division headquarters decided to act early and removed me from the field. So, in March 1971, I said farewell to the platoon and transferred to the 635th Military Intelligence company based at Chu Lai and part of the Americal Division.

Mar 14 2022

The Easter Offensive – 1972

Politically, Richard Nixon was elected president in 1968 largely due to his promise to end the war in Vietnam and have “peace with honor”. The war had been ongoing officially since 1961 and had become a major source of anxiety and frustration among the American people. As part of the Commander-in-Chief’s process, US military assets were being reduced and tactical operations were being transferred to Vietnamese units. US army ground combat units were returning to their stateside posts and combat support and service support organizations of the air force and navy, both in country and in neighboring locales, were gradually being reduced in size. As time passed into early 1972, the predominant US force on the ground comprised the advisory teams of the Military Assistance Command, Vietnam (MACV). The peace talks among the major participants being conducted in Paris were making little progress; however, those of us still in-country were not privy to the machinations of the politicians and their negotiations. Unbeknownst to our side, the enemy was planning another major operation to turn the tables in their favor.

To understand the application of tactics by advisers, it helps to understand the political, geographical and military structure that we faced during our assignments. At the time, South Vietnam was divided into provinces, which roughly corresponded to our states. Within each province was a series of districts which roughly corresponded to counties. Within the district, there were villages, roughly equivalent to towns, and hamlets, roughly equivalent to neighborhoods. While many regions of South Vietnam had regular Army of the Republic of Vietnam (ARVN) troops that were engaging large enemy forces, local areas had Regional Force (RF) and Popular Force (PF) units. The RF were analogous to the US National Guard/Reserves, while the PF were comparable to a militia. The RF and PF commanders coordinated amongst themselves at the local level. Our advisor chain of command had teams in each district with a headquarters team located in the province capital. The teams had branch specific officers and NCOs, such as infantry, quartermaster, intelligence and signal, to advise our counterparts.

Under the Southeast Asia Treaty Organization (SEATO) agreement, from 1966 until December 1971, Phuoc Tuy province was occupied by the 6th Battalion, Royal Australian Regiment (RAR) of the Australian Army, which conducted all the military operations there, and consequently mitigated the need for American combat units. The US role in Phuoc Tuy during the war was strictly in an advisory capacity with Team 89 rendering tactical and logistical assistance to Vietnamese local forces and Team 78 assisting in the training of select forces.

**Team 89 Headquarters Compound, Baria, Phuoc Tuy Province**

While we advisors were not prohibited from participating in ground combat operations, the informal guidance we received was, “don’t get wounded, don’t get captured and don’t get dead.” That said, we were required to have a minimum of two Americans on the ground with the Vietnamese units out on patrol/ambush/reconnaissance activities. However, there were many times I had to leave my RTO back in the district compound maintaining communication with higher headquarters and adjacent districts, while my operations NCO coordinated with Vietnamese leaders. Technically, this was a violation of our guidance, but under the circumstances it was overlooked, in an unofficial capacity. Unlike American units, that were relatively large in size compared to an advisory team, and which had direct support from artillery and helicopter assets, we advisors, during that time frame of the war, were pretty much on our own, relying on the Vietnamese for direct assistance. Our team medic was located at province headquarters in Baria, which, under the best conditions, was 30 minutes away by jeep. Any immediate medical evacuation (medevac) assistance would have had to come from Bien Hoa also 30 minutes away by helicopter. Fortunately, we were never faced with a medical emergency that required medevac or other immediate assistance.

The Australian battalion withdrew a month after my arrival at the district, after which Australia maintained a training element. According to http://www.vietvet.org/aussie1, ‘On December 9, 1971, the Minister for Defence announced that in consultation with the Vietnamese Government, Australia was to provide a 150-man Australian Army Assistance Group, including 30 instructors assigned to the training of Cambodians in Vietnam. The Group would include elements to assist in training at the Jungle Warfare Training Centre [JWTC] at its new location at Van Kiep in Phuoc Tuy Province and to assist in advising and training Territorial Forces in Phuoc Tuy Province. It was to include a small group of engineering personnel, who would be needed at the J.W.T.C. at Van Kiep, and a headquarters and supporting element. The Minister said none of the element would have a combatant role and would remain in Vietnam so long as it had a contribution to make. The first commander of the A.A.A.G., Brigadier I.A.Geddes, was appointed in December 1971.’

With respect to US assets able to support us, the closest tactical unit was 3d Brigade, 1^st Cavalry division, located in the Long Khan province to our north some 30 km from my location, which was standing down and returning to the US; the last elements ultimately departed in June 1973. We also received some support from the 129^th Aviation Company. Bien Hoa airbase was approximately 50 km northwest of us, and US forces were co-located with the in-country rest and recuperation (R & R) site at Vung Tau, just to our southwest.

Prior to Tet of 1972, Military Region III had begun reducing advisor presence out in the field. As part of that, the teams in the four districts within Phuoc Tuy Province – Xuyen Moc, Duc Than, Long Dien and mine, Dat Do – were withdrawn to the province headquarters located in Baria, the province capital. My operations NCO, and my radio/telephone operator (RTO) closed up and locked our quarters (which comprised a cinder block one story building with a corrugated tin roof, that was informally known as our “hooch”), and I removed all personal & military equipment.

We then relocated to the team compound in Baria, whereI assumed the role of team adjutant (who basically manages the staff) while the others augmented the headquarters.

Within MACV existed the office of Civil Operations and Rural Development Support (CORDS), which was responsible for providing military and civil support for pacification in Vietnam. Consequently, our team had civilian members from Department of State’s Agency for International Development (USAID). The team continued to observe the civilian population, even though direct presence in the districts had been withdrawn. It wasn’t until local forces reached out to us and apprised us of an increasing threat, that we ultimately determined the North Vietnamese were planning a major operation; their countrywide Nguyen Hue campaign was intended to occupy as much territory in South Vietnam as possible. This operation became known in US circles as the Easter Offensive. Our district teams were dispatched back to their compounds, where we resumed assisting the Vietnamese in tactical operations. The Viet Cong in our province, comprising the 274th Main Force Battalion and D445 Local Force Battalion had a lingering presence throughout the war, but were now augmented by regular North Vietnamese Army troops of the 33^rd NVA Regiment.

**North Vietnamese Army Regulars** (weebly.com)

I was receiving daily reports from my counterparts of an impending attack on the district headquarters compound and the local National Police headquarters (NPHQS). My operations NCO had just taken a break for R&R and was outside of country, so I only had my RTO with me. During the third week of May, we could tell things were serious, because the local population was packing up as much of what they owned as they could carry and streaming out of the province. This was a pretty good indication that things were going to get a lot worse in the upcoming days. How much worse? We’d soon find out…

Mar 14 2022

The Phone Call – 1972

It was a warm day in the summer of 1972 when my evening meal was interrupted by a phone call. I was a bachelor, living in a small, three-room apartment outside the gates of Fort Knox where I was serving as a troop commander. Anytime you are commanding troops and the phone rings, your first thought is one of dread that one of your soldiers has gotten himself in trouble or been in an accident. I was pleasantly relieved to hear my mother’s voice on the line. She shared the bad news with me right away. “Woody’s plane has been shot down over North Vietnam. It was a cloudy day, and no parachutes were seen by the accompanying aircraft. Woody is missing in action. Vernita wants you to call her.”

Ernest Sherwood Clark, who went by the name of “Woody”, was my closest friend. The same age, we had grown up together in the same neighborhood, and attended school together, often in the same class. We had been members of the same church and Boy Scout Troop. Upon graduation from high school, we both had gone to military academies, Woody attending the Air Force Academy and myself West Point.

While singing in the Academy glee club, Woody had met Vernita, a beautiful young lady from Everett, Washington. After graduation, they had married, and Woody had trained to be a navigator on reconnaissance aircraft. Shortly after I had returned from Vietnam, I had heard that Woody was being deployed to Thailand. It did not cause me much concern, seeming much safer than ground combat in Vietnam. What I did not appreciate was that from Thailand, Woody would be flying daily reconnaissance missions over North Vietnam.

**Reconnaissance Missions from Udorn over North Vietnam**

I had only met Vernita once and did not know her well. My mother told me that she and their one-year-old daughter were temporarily living in my hometown near Woody’s parents. Grieving myself about likely having lost such a close friend, I was feeling very inadequate and uncertain about my phone call to her. I had learned from my own experience that war does not discriminate, it kills good people as well as bad. Furthermore, the term “missing in action” was used much too often in Vietnam to describe someone who was likely “killed-in-action.” I felt the best case for Woody would be that he somehow had made it safely to the ground, had been captured, and was facing an uncertain future in a Hanoi prisoner of war facility. After much thought, I decided that when I called Vernita I would be hopeful in suggesting that Woody was probably a prisoner of war and would eventually be coming home safely.

After I settled my emotions and collected my thoughts, I called Vernita. As expected, she was very emotional, and our first few minutes of conversation were interrupted by sobs and occasional periods of silence. She shared with me what few details the Air Force had provided her which were more encouraging than my mother’s report. The Air Force had evidence that two parachutes had opened and reached the ground, although they had not had any communication from either pilot or their locating beacons. Both factors suggested that they were either injured or had been immediately captured.

Before I had the opportunity to share my “hope speech” with Vernita, her own emotions took control of our call. “Woody is too smart to get killed or captured. He is too good a person for God to take from us. He is going to be coming home to me and our daughter.” I was concerned with her unrealistic optimism and worried that the outcome would be even more crushing for her than it needed to be. I tried to push back with “he probably was captured and will be a prisoner of war,” but she would have none of it. I finally gave-in with a simple “Ok” and let her have the only hope that was comforting to her. As I hung up the phone, I thought of the many families that surely prayed for the safe return of their loved one from Vietnam and had been disappointed. I could not help but feel that there would be disappointment here too, but I was wrong.

I would later learn that on the day Woody was shot down, he was serving as a navigator in an RF4 Phantom aircraft on his 108^th combat mission. The aircraft was fifty miles north of the DMZ when it was hit by a surface-to-air missile. Both Woody and the pilot ejected and landed in the jungle without serious injury but separated by almost a mile. The pilot was quickly captured, but Woody would evade capture for seven days as North Vietnamese soldiers searched for him. On one occasion a soldier got within an arm’s reach but did not see him. On another, a sudden heavy downpour caused the search dogs on his trail to lose the scent and allowed him to slip away. After days of exhaustive movement with little food and water, Woody decided to take the risk of using his rescue beacon. An aircraft from his unit in Thailand, on its final day of searching for him, picked up his signal.

A daring and dangerous rescue was launched the next day. As a helicopter hovered and lowered its jungle penetrator to Woody, two escort aircraft laid down cannon fire to suppress the North Vietnamese soldiers engaging the helicopter with small arms and hand-held surface-to-air missiles. Woody was extracted safely, and all three aircraft returned to Thailand with no casualties. As Woody stepped off the helicopter, filthy and unshaven, he was handed a bouquet of roses by a young lady from the Red Cross. The Associated Press took a picture which would be on the front page of the Stars & Stripes the next day and later appear in many stateside publications. Woody’s successful evasion and rescue from North Vietnam would be one of few highlights for the American military during the final years of the Vietnam War.

Woody returned home to his family and was welcomed as a hero by his Air Force brothers. He would later be reunited with his pilot, who after three months of extensive interrogation, had been released from a Hanoi prisoner of war camp With a growing family, he resigned from the Air Force a few years later and joined the Air National Guard as an active-duty officer. He and I were both assigned to the Pentagon in 1985 and enjoyed bringing our families together and renewing our personal friendship. Woody and his family later move to Reno, Nevada, where he served as the National Guard Air Base Commander. In 1991 he led his unit’s deployment to Bahrain during Operation Desert Storm and flew 18 combat missions, one of the only pilots to fly combat missions in both Vietnam and Iraq. He retired in Reno shortly after. I did not see him for many years, until one day fate brought us back together again.

In January 2005 I lost my two business partners in a tragic plane crash during a time when our business, a supplier to the Department of Defense, was experiencing tremendous growth. The next year would be the most stressful and demanding of my life as I struggled with a grieving staff and monumental business challenges. In April I called Woody to discuss my situation and he invited me to come to Reno for a long weekend to go skiing. I flew out early on a Thursday morning and we headed straight to the ski slope.

I stayed at Woody’s home where I had the opportunity to renew my friendship with Vernita with whom I had always felt a special relationship because of that phone call. We never discussed that call, or what happened to Woody in Vietnam, preferring to keep these painful memories behind us. Sometimes, however when we were enjoying Woody’s company, our eyes would lock on each other and we would smile, bonded with the realization of how special these moments were. These visits were incredibly therapeutic for me, like rubbing a cool salve over a severe flesh burn. I would continue to visit during ski season for the next five years.

On my last visit in 2009, I felt the need to close this chapter of our lives. I did not know when I would see Woody again, and I wanted him to know about that phone call. I also wanted to hear Vernita’s side of the story. On my last day there, we retired to their den after supper and sat by the warm fire enjoying hot cider. In a quiet moment in our conversation, I looked at Vernita who was sitting across for me, and asked “Do you remember when I called you about Woody being shot down?” The room became deathly quiet, as Vernita and I stared into each other’s eyes and time seemed to stand still. Suddenly, Vernita’s eyes were flooded with tears as her head fell in her lap and she began sobbing. Tears filled my own eyes as her wave of pain hit me. The wound that Vietnam had inflicted on us had suddenly opened itself up forty years later. Woody walked over to Vernita’s chair, kneeled on one knee by her side and clasped her hands in his own. For the first time, he heard the story of that phone call and the faith that his young wife had in him that day. How nothing I could say would shake her confidence that he was coming home soon to her and their daughter.

My experience with Woody and Vernita that evening made me realize that some of the most painful wounds in war are inflicted upon family members and friends, more so than those of us serving in the war zone. In Vietnam, 58,148 Americans lost their lives, and 304,000 more were wounded, but these numbers pale to the suffering the war cost their loved ones at home.

Mar 09 2022

Country – A View from Abroad – 1975

The University of Bonn had the reputation, among West German universities in the mid-1970’s, of being relatively conservative and orderly. However, when I was privileged to study there beginning in the fall of 1974, I was astonished at the prevalence and virulence of Marxist thought among the students. Echos of the 1968 student revolution in western Europe still reverberated throughout the university, and anti-capitalist rhetoric was common and went largely unopposed in student discussions and throughout the student social scene.

**German Student Demonstrations in 1968** (Field Journal)

However, most of the lectures and seminars that I attended, in history and political science, were led by professors who presented balanced, responsible scholarship. It was not unusual for activist students to “take over” a lecture just before a class would begin, occupying the front of the classroom and insisting on the necessity and urgency of social solidarity and action to oppose capitalist propaganda. When this happened, the typical professor would walk in, move to the front of the classroom, wait a couple of minutes with modesty and dignified patience, and then interrupt the student and suggest that it was perhaps time for him to have a turn and present his lesson. Activist students sometimes tried to carry on, but students in the classroom usually showed a preference to have the professor do the lecturing. In spite of the passion with which the activist students asserted themselves, such confrontations–at least the ones I witnessed–were peaceful, lacking even a suggestion of physical intimidation, and spectator students in the classroom were normally dispassionate regardless of their social/political leanings.

Only once did I see a professor get excited and angry when this kind of thing happened, but that one exception was memorable. It was a lecture in a regular political science course by Professor Krazewski, a visiting professor from Poland. At the time, Poland was part of the Soviet empire, behind the Iron Curtain.

**Poland Behind the Iron Curtain** (Weebly.com)

Prof. Krazewski had arrived at the University of Bonn in the fall of 1974. The fact that the Polish regime (and the Soviet Union) had permitted his year-long residence and teaching in West Germany suggested to me that he was a reliable Communist, with a thoroughly Marxist/Leninist interpretation of history and international relations. That’s why I wanted to hear his lectures. (Know your enemy.)

At the end of April and on 1 May 1975, the last of the U.S. presence in Vietnam ended in the ignominious rout that we of the Class of 1969 remember so vividly. At the University of Bonn, students were gleeful–the underdog communist North Vietnamese had prevailed over the neocolonial imperialist United States of America. Gathering for Prof. Krazewski’s lecture that day (my notes taken at the time show it was 29 April 1975), the students were raucous, celebrating as the class was about to begin, and several students had occupied the front of the classroom and wanted the professor to celebrate with them and change his topic to the war in Vietnam and the defeat of the United States.

**Typical Classroom at the University of Bonn** (Volker Lannert / Universität Bonn)

Prof. Krazewski was not amused. He became angry and berated the students, accusing them of immature foolishness and of failing to understand what that war had meant for the Communist movement. He said that tremendous resources had flowed from Poland and the other satellite states to fight the United States in Vietnam, and the economic impact had been devastating; if it had not been for that war, the Soviet Union would have beat the United States to the Moon.

Angry overstatement? A narrow and prejudiced view from a member of the Polish “nomenklatura” who had been denied the standard of living so evident in the West? I don’t know. But I have never forgotten his reaction to the students, who were so sure that they were witnessing a huge milestone in the worldwide struggle for social justice. Prof. Krazewski helped them toward an understanding: it’s not so simple. The economic effect of the war on the Soviet empire was enormous and stressful. And I believe it’s not wrong to say that it was the social and economic pressure of our country on the Soviet empire that won the Cold War.

While attending the university, I tried to be modest and blend in as just a student, but I made no secret of the fact that I was an active-duty Captain in the U.S. Army. As a class was about to start on 1 May, after news reached the world of the departure of the last American helicopters, one of the student activists addressed me. He was not trying to denigrate me, but his tone was, “America deserved this outcome, and we told you so.” I responded that four U.S. administrations of both political parties, had tried to defend a semblance of South Vietnamese freedom in the face of North Vietnam’s military aggression, so it wasn’t just one cabal of American capitalists manipulating the public and pursuing profits. He hadn’t thought of it that way, and it quieted him some.

Our country is certainly not always “right,” as each of us has seen in our lifetimes of service to her. Still, there is a lot of good that results from the high ideals that the United States stands for and that we accepted upon graduation and have worked to further. And perhaps even in some of our worst failures, the ideals we try to uphold prevail and make our country better.

Feb 11 2022

Honor – Encounter with the Honor Code – 2021

During the Coronavirus pandemic, classmates from Cadet Company E4 kept in touch with monthly Zoom meetings. During one meeting there was a discussion of the Honor Code: “A cadet will not lie, cheat, steal, or tolerate those who do.” The discussion went on for some time. It reminded me of my own experience with the Code. I did not bring up my “incident” because the meeting was already running long, and we didn’t have a paid Zoom account.

The discussion jogged my memory, and I emailed the two guys I roomed with at the time to confirm my memory. Here is part of the message:

“One evening early in Plebe (Freshman) year, we were all in the room studying when one of my two Plebe roommates walked by and noticed I was studying the wrong chapter (obviously I was already goat* material). I switched to the correct chapter. This led to a discussion among the three of us something like: “Wait a minute, is this unauthorized assistance, i.e., cheating?” Fearing an early end to my cadet career, I turned myself in to the company Honor Rep (each Cadet company had an Honor Representative). Don’t remember who it was, but he was napping on the top bunk when I reported to him. I explained the situation, and he responded to the effect that so long as no one helped me solve problems or complete the assignment, there was no cheating.

The (thankfully) brief concern about being thrown out for an Honor violation has stuck with me. That was my only brush with the Honor Code, and I managed to maintain my position in the bottom 6% of the class. Or the top 94%, to put a more positive spin on it.

I still have the 1964 -1965 USMA catalogue which I received in the mail as I was considering attending West Point. When I thought about writing this story, I referred to the catalog to confirm that we were actually exposed to the Honor Code long before R-Day (Reception Day, July 1, 1965, the day we entered West Point as the Class of 1969).

**Bernie’s West Point Catalogue from 1964-65**

In the 192-page catalog, there was a 2-page summary of the Honor Code — on pages 14 & 15 — before Education and Training that was discussed on page 16!

**Pages Introducing the Honor Code to the Class of 1965**

Our Class was exposed to the Honor Code early and often. The Honor Code was addressed in detail in our Bugle Notes (an information book, most of which was to be memorized by Plebes and recited on demand during Plebe year.)

**Bugle Notes to be Memorized by the Class of ‘65**

I’m pretty sure we had formal and informal Honor Code presentations or discussions early in Beast Barracks. It was not something we took lightly. Hence, turning myself in when in doubt of a violation.

Finally, I should point out that the Honor Code was not only a cadet responsibility. It’s a lifelong commitment to living honorably.

* Goat: the last person in the class academically. Collectively, Goats are the bottom half of the class.