Suzanne Rice

Mar 07 2021

Post Laotian Invasion – 1971

The ARVN (Army of the Republic of Vietnam) was finally extricated from Laos and we were alerted to prepare for blocking positions if the NVA (North Vietnamize Army) moved on I Corps. Several units set up in the Ashau Valley and to the north to block any attacks. The NVA were hurt as much as the ARVN, I guess. My guys were not deployed. My recollection of the timeline gets fuzzy here, but then I was concerned that I had not heard from Mary Ellen on our baby’s birth and was getting anxious – her due date was when I was up north and that had passed. I was so bad with worry that the Chaplain arranged a call to her via Saigon from Camp Eagle – a real telephone call! I talked with her and she told me all was well – the baby was just late.

Sometime around this part of the tour we got what was a short in country R&R (rest and recuperation) at the division’s center called Eagle Beach east of Hue on the South China Sea. It was just a bunch of hootches on the beach, with a recreation center with a show and bar. We had to turn in all our weapons and were guarded by division security troops. Infantry guys got this in country R&R and not engineers, but we were there to repair and rebuild some of the facilities and got to rest after work. The show at night was a Filipino band with two very young go-go girl dancers (they looked 12-15). They did all the current songs – but you have not lived until you heard “Ploud Lary – lollin on the liver” sung very loudly!

As I recall after we returned, we were given a civic action mission in Thua Thein province east of Hue. (Area was just south of the French Indo-China war era stretch known as “The Street Without Joy.”) We were to repair a road and some bridges through the flat rice paddy country and sand dunes to help the local bus company connect a bunch of small villages. The area was very safe, and we worked out of a local ARVN base, manned by the Ruff Puffs (local regional troops something like local militia). Down the road we ran into an Australian Special Forces Detachment whose mission was advising the local forces. They were great guys and the only “Allies” I ran into during my tour.

The Ruff Puffs did some night work and caught two supposed VC. They had been killed in a fire fight and were staked out on a mound as a warning, or as a trophy, I guess. The bodies were discolored and bloating. As we worked near another village, we uncovered some more bodies hastily buried by the other side. When one of my guys ran an entrenching tool into the ground, he cut right into one. The smell was bad, and the flesh had the look of corned beef. That was exactly what we got flown to us for a meal later that day. It was years before I could eat corned beef again!

Our work went well except for two instances. One involved the replacement of a pier for a bridge over a canal. The water was mostly stagnant. We waded in to work on the pier and when we got out, we had several leaches attached. We quickly removed them with cigarettes. I remembered the scene from “The African Queen” when Bogart has to go back in the water. We did too – and it was not easy.

**The Fight Against Leaches in the “African Queen”**

The second involved a culvert we put in the road between two paddies. It was fine and the local farmer dammed it to control flow. About 100 meters along, we found on successive mornings a trench dug across the road. We filled it in and each morning it returned. We finally got an interpreter to talk with the locals. It seems another farmer was jealous of our “giving” a culvert to his neighbor and wanted one, too. Although it was not called for in the plans, we added one for him in the spot he kept digging up. He seemed pleased.

This was the closest we came to the locals who just wanted to live and ignore us and get the crops in. They had small ponds near their homes and some raised fish in them. The dikes were used as paths and latrines. I sure did not want to eat any of the fish. The Vietnamese would squat with their feet flat and actually rest in that position – we would fall over. The older folks had terrible teeth and they would smear betel nut over them to kill pain and give you quite a look when they smiled.

Our work required some fill (additional soil) and we established a borrow pit near QL1 (main north-south route in I Corps) using some guys from our headquarters equipment platoon. One ran a front loader and filled the 2 ½ ton dumps we borrowed from the HQ Company with fill we used to repair the road. This was as close as our troops got to the locals, and the local ladies were plying their wares. The loader operator was participating in an active exchange when LTC Rodolph’s LOH appeared overhead. LTC Rodolph landed and pulled the man off in “mid debauch.” Needless to say, we did not think that was very sporting when reported to us.

The 101^st field troop access to the local ladies was very restricted. First, we operated in the hills where there were no locals, and second, to a small extent, some were afraid of the “Black Syph.” The myth going around our unit was that the enemy had developed a very virulent and fatal form of syphilis. If you got it, you were transported to isolation on an island off the coast and your family was notified that you were missing in action – never to go home. It was very far-fetched, but we had some of Lyndon Johnson’s Project 100,000 soldiers (aka “MacNamara’s Folly” that enlisted men with less than required mental or physical capabilities) still and they would believe anything.

One evening as it was getting dark, one of the trucks ran off the road into a rice paddy. To get it out we had to set up a dozer and cables. We did a job on a small portion of the paddy. I reported the damage to division and, as was the policy, the division assigned a JAG officer to pay an equitable claim to the owner of the field. I had to accompany him to meet with the farmer. The Vietnamese farmer had essentially claimed the entire field’s crop of rice. We had maybe destroyed 5% of the paddy. The payment was in the local currency, piasters, which had an official value way above its actual black-market rate. We used US Army currency we called script among US troops and stores (PX).

We went to the farmhouse – a thatched hut with a dirt floor. The owner showed up as a former ARVN soldier with one arm. Not sure if he was actually the owner or the “stand in” to gain more sympathy. He showed us his discharge and medals. We offered the appropriate amount; the farmer was very distraught. After consultations, the division officer offered him about 25% of the field’s yield. He took it and we shook hands and left.

We also got to play with some new mine-clearing gear brought in country by Waterways Experiment Station folks from their Corps of Engineers lab. It was a lesson in a good technical idea that would not work. Two civilian scientists were field testing a new nonmetallic mine detector and my platoon was to support them. We had detectors that could find metal mines and detonators, but plastic explosives in wood containers would go mostly undetected. Our existing nonmetallic mine detector equipment was essentially a stick to look for booby traps. These guys had a new piece that sent out a signal and measured the changing dialectic constant of a material – a change in density and therefore, theoretically detect non-metallic mines. You had to keep the head of the sweeper perfectly parallel to the surface – a hand turn would give a signal.

We set up a stretch of road and buried some target nonmetallic mines. The sweep started and we got readings every few inches – rocks, shrapnel, or wood. We took an hour to clear a few feet. The scientists still could not find the target mines we had placed and complained the test was unfair. The road was not homogeneous enough. I told them that was the condition of most roads in our areas. We left them still trying to find the targets.

Back in base camp, I was really getting nervous about our baby and Mary Ellen – and a bit hard to live with. On 8 March I was called in by CPT Fisher who read me a Red Cross telegram that Mary Ellen had given birth to a boy on 4 March and all was well – later I learned that Sean’s delivery was difficult, and Mary Ellen had to have a C-Section. With the news I was ecstatic! Wrote Mary Ellen a letter that minute – talked about little league, PTA, and how much I loved her.

The Red Cross telegram had been held up by a Western Union strike on the west coast supposedly. Steve, my younger brother, had delivered per our arrangement the yellow roses on time so Mary Ellen had no idea I had not been told.

Mary Ellen had sent me a package with cigars for this moment and I opened it. The climate had taken its toll and only some were useable. Still, I got some more from the PX and gave them out. All I wanted now was to get home and see Mary Ellen and Sean.

When the aftermath of our air losses in Lam San 719, and of the ARVN in troops, had run its course in most of the area, I was chosen to head up a Vietnamization (efforts to turn over war to Vietnamize forces) fire base construction in our Brigade’s area of operations. Best job I had in country.

Feb 23 2021

First Day as a Forward Observer – 1970

March 1970 was a turbulent time of unrest and deep cultural division over the Vietnam War. Despite the emotional and strident voices of opposition, this Field Artillery Second Lieutenant (2LT) arrived in country, 9 months after commissioning and fresh from 30 days leave following Ranger School.

I was assigned to 6^th Battalion, 11^th Field Artillery on LZ (landing zone) Bronco as a Forward Observer (FO) to an infantry rifle company (B Company, 4^th Battalion, 3d Infantry (Old Guard)) operating from LZ San Juan Hill

in the mountainous terrain south of Chu Lai and west of Duc Pho (see note below). We all knew the life expectancy of a “butter bar”* FO was short and that a trial by fire would come. I just didn’t know how soon.

My first day was memorable. After packing up my basic issue (M-16, ammo, all-important compass,

map of my area of operations (AO) and grease pencil, C-rations, etc), I linked up with my Liaison Sergeant and met my Radio Telephone Operator (RTO), the man who would carry our PRC 25 radio which provided essential communications between me and our vital artillery fire support.

**A RTO “Rucked-up” with a PRC 25 for a Mission**

Following a brief situation report of enemy activity and terrain in the area of operations from my infantry battalion Fire Support Officer (FSO), I finally met my company commander (CO). The company then headed off on my first search and destroy mission in the mountains and triple-canopy jungles.

Not many miles off the LZ, we uncovered a large cache of enemy weapons including AK47s, old Russian Kalishnikov rifles, WWII vintage US rifles (M-1s, BARs, carbines, etc), and various mines, grenades, etc. The CO called for a chopper to salvage the cache; mission accomplished, we moved on.

We crossed a mountainous jungle ridgeline in the late afternoon and moved onto a plateau of dense jungle with some open terrain. The CO decided to call it a day, so we all set up our defensive position and dug in. As I would many times in the months ahead, I jumped into my role as FO, plotting defensive fires around the company perimeter, and coordinating with the Fire Direction Center of my firing battery. Because we were several miles away from my firing battery on the LZ and on the opposite side of a steep ridge line from my howitzers, all fire support would have to be delivered “high angle.” Although we had the newest and most accurate model of the 105mm howitzer (the M102), with an effective range of 11.5 kilometers (7.1 miles), I knew high angle fire for “reverse slope targets” was problematic: longer flight time, greater probable dispersion error, etc, but there was no alternative.

**105mm Howitzer M102, Ready for High Angle Fire**

Just as I was wrapping up my coordination, we came under fire. Everyone quickly hunkered down and the platoon closest to the enemy returned fire. The CO asked me if I could bring in artillery, so I replied, “Yes, Sir!” with more certainty in my voice than I felt, and immediately called for a fire mission. The response time was quicker than I expected. We all listened expectantly as the first 105mm “Willie Pete” (White Phosphorous) round descended from its high trajectory with a scream, expoding about 300 meters in the air and about 400 meters away from our perimeter. The platoon leader closest to the action told the CO he needed rounds closer; the sniper was less than 100 meters away from him. I told the CO that dropping the next round 200 meters closer to us would require “Danger Close” procedures, meaning all calculations and firing operations would be handled even more meticulously – and that the possibility of friendly fire casualties greatly increased. He instantly replied to bring it in! The next round was HE (high explosive) about 100 meters outside the perimeter and right where we needed it, so I called for a battery “fire-for-effect” and 6 rounds of 105mm rained down on the target, producing a deafening roar with steel fragmentation shards sailing over our heads. Suddenly, all became still. Then, the company radio came to life with a crackle with the platoon leader’s voice, “enemy neutralized.”

Within a few moments, a young infantryman searched me out and presented a jagged steel shard** still hot to the touch, saying how much he appreciated the artillery: “Thanks, L.T., this whistled by my ear…it’s exactly where I wanted it!” This was music to a young field artilleryman’s ears…and all on my first day!

Many fire missions and memorable events ensued during my months at the “pointy end of the spear” as an FO, but, by the grace of the Lord, I survived and was carried by chopper out of the bush to my next assignement as a battery fire direction officer. The day before I said my fond farewells to the Old Guard infantrymen I had lived and fought beside during those months, I received a radio message from the Red Cross that my wife Sally had given birth to our first son and that both mother and baby were well. That son, Paul***, celebrated his 50^th birthday on July 12^th, 2020!

Note: Although I arrived in VietNam with orders for the 2d Battalion, 19^th Field Artillery (2/19FA) of the 1^st Cavalry Division Artillery, the assignment clerk at the 90th Replacement Battalion in Long Binh Post told me to get on the next flight north to I Corps and the 23d Infantry Division (Americal) because they had lost several forward observers recently. I was assigned to B (Bravo) Battery of 6^th Battalion, 11^th Field Artillery (B/6/11 FA, 105mm howitzer) on LZ San Juan Hill in the mountainous region of the 11^th Light Infantry Brigade AO west of Duc Pho and the southern-most brigade of Americal Division. As expected, my duty position was to be Forward Observer (FO) for a rifle company of 4^th Battalion, 3d Infanty Regiment (B/4/3 INF, Old Guard). I was quite surprised to learn a battalion of the famed Old Guard (best known for ceremonial service at Arlington Cemetery and the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier) was in VietNam, but proud to be assigned as an FO to her!

* A “butter bar” is an Army Second Lieutenant (2LT), so called because the single gold bar of rank resembles a bar of butter … easily distinguished from the silver bar of the more experienced First Lieutenant (1LT).

** That 5-inch long fragmentation shard was a prized keepsake for many years, but sadly disappeared during one of our many moves, a casualty of my wife’s clearing out what she thought was a piece of junk left on my desk.

*** Paul graduated from West Point in 1992 (and as one of the first Class Sons of my Class of 1969), was commissioned a Field Artilleryman and retired from active duty in 2012.

Feb 15 2021

Vietnam – An Ironic Conclusion – 1975

I began my tour in Vietnam 50 years ago this year (2021). It was late in 1971, November specifically, when I arrived in country. I returned home in November 1972, and with the peace accord being signed in January 1973, my tour spanned nearly all of the last year of the war. I was assigned to a MACV team (Military Assistance Command Vietnam) in Darlac Province, in the town of Ban Me Thuot. Darlac Province is in the central highlands area of Vietnam and its western side bordered Cambodia. If you look on a google map today, the names appear as “Dak Lak” Province and “Buon Ma Thuot”.

The MACV team consisted of both military and civilian advisors to the South Vietnamese. The civilian side included advisors regarding various segments of local government operations. My role was artillery advisor to South Vietnamese units operating in the province. That changed after a few weeks as enemy activity and engagement in Darlac had diminished and remained low for most of my tour. So, I was reassigned to the Province Operations Staff.

The beginning of my tour was apparently near the end of new MACV assignment tours in Vietnam, as within a few months of my arrival, when a team member completed their tour and departed, no replacement ever arrived. Our initial team was a staff of around 40-50. By the time I left in November 1972 we had less than 10. Of course, this was part of the continuing drawdown that President Nixon had initiated several years earlier. Our Province Commander, a Colonel, completed his tour a few months after I arrived, but was replaced by a LT Colonel.

In Province Operations, we worked with South Vietnamese counterparts to help plan, coordinate, and report on military operations in the Province, both US and ARVN (Army of the Republic of Vietnam – acronym for the South Vietnam ground forces). However, at that time, there were no active US combat units in the province, only ARVN units. Staff roles overlapped, with everyone helping with whatever was required, especially more so as the year progressed and there were fewer of us. We made frequent trips to various villages and to the 4-district headquarters in Darlac. Each district had a small American military advisory team working directly with South Vietnamese units operating in the district.

One of our other frequent activities was coordinating and flying on intelligence gathering and observation missions on Huey UH1 helicopters. Darlac Province physically spanned nearly the width of the country, coming within approximately 20 miles of the South China Sea shoreline on its eastern side and bordering Cambodia on the west. Yet, all our intel missions focused to the west and northwest of Ban Me Thuot, all the way to the Cambodian border. This area had been deemed by both US and ARVN highest level intelligence staff as an optimal and likely invasion corridor if the NVA (North Vietnamese Army, also referred to as PAVN – People’s Army of Vietnam) were to mount a major offensive into South Vietnam. It was a high priority to ensure there was advance knowledge of any activity to provide early warning and plenty of time for countermeasure preparations. However, we never picked up any visuals or other intel indicating any significant NVA or VC (VietCong – communist guerrilla forces) activity during our surveillance flights of that area.

As I mentioned earlier, the level of enemy activity and engagement in Darlac was very low during 1972. Even during the NVA “Easter Offensive” in April 1972, the NVA activity in the central highlands focused on areas much further north such as Kontum and didn’t reach Darlac. The year continued with minimal enemy activity. Until October.

The Kissinger peace talks were in high gear in the fall of 1972. This apparently triggered NVA and VC offensives in many areas of Vietnam, presumably to improve their negotiating leverage regarding a peace accord. By that time, in Darlac, only one of the 4 districts still had an American MACV team and that happened to be the one where enemy activity picked up. The “team” still in the district was one American Officer, a Major. As activity intensified, he requested additional help from Province Headquarters. I volunteered and spent about 3 days in the district with him, helping advise local ARVN units and coordinating US air support. Eventually, ARVN forces prevailed, and the enemy withdrew from the area. I then returned to Province Headquarters and it was only a week or so later that I completed my tour and headed home.

A year and a half later, in 1974, my service obligation was complete, and I decided to join the civilian world and enrolled in a graduate program at Virginia Tech. By early 1975, I was very focused and engaged in my graduate studies. Vietnam was a distant memory, with little occasion or desire to recollect. But then in late March, my attention was drawn to news reports of the major NVA invasion into South Vietnam. I remember being stunned and dismayed by the news. What happened to the 1973 peace accord? Surely South Vietnam will prevail? And then, as it progressed, and the country fell – how did it happen so quickly? At the time, I was too consumed with graduate studies to focus on the details of what happened. It was not until many years later that I did some research on the downfall and stumbled upon a stunning revelation.

Historical accounts indicate that in late December 1974, North Vietnam broke the 1973 peace accord by initiating an offensive in Phuoc Long Province, which is about 90 miles north of Saigon. By January 6, 1975, they had taken the province. This was followed by several months of relative quiet with no additional offensive activity, presumably while North Vietnam further strategized on its next move.

That next move came in early March with an NVA invasion into Darlac Province. Then on March 10 the NVA began a direct assault on Ban Me Thuot. “WHAT!!??”

That was my reaction when I discovered this. The offensive thrust was via the same strategic west-northwest corridor we had so diligently surveilled for enemy activity/intelligence in 1972, because it was deemed a likely invasion path. My thought was – “Did South Vietnam not continue surveillance and intelligence gathering on this area, given its strategic importance as a likely invasion route?” I found that apparently, they did, but did not act on the intelligence:

Per Military.wikia.org, re The Battle of Ban Me Thuot:

“In the days leading up to the assault on Ban Me Thuot, ARVN Major General Pham Van Phu repeatedly ignored intelligence which showed the presence of several North Vietnamese combat divisions around the district.”

“In late February, North Vietnamese artillery shells began to rain down on Pleiku, which convinced General Phu that the North Vietnamese would attack Pleiku instead of Ban Me Thuot. Indeed, the movements around Pleiku and Kontum during the month of February were designed by the North Vietnamese Tay Nguyen Front to fool South Vietnamese military commanders in the Central Highlands.”

Ban Me Thuot fell within a week.

This turned out to be the main strategic invasion thrust by the NVA, which then led to the collapse of the central highlands region. The invasion continued from there and by April 30, Saigon and the entire country had fallen, and helicopters were airlifting people off the roof of the US Embassy.

It was sad, tragic, and for me personally, a strangely ironic final conclusion to the Vietnam War.

Jan 21 2021

Flying with Kay – 1975

“Man, you should have seen the babe the Old Man picked up yesterday!”

“Yeah, she was gorgeous, but she’s enlisted. A Platoon Sergeant. I hope he doesn’t get in trouble for that.”

“I thought he was supposed to be married. I wonder if his wife knows about her.”

“From the way they got along, you could see they have had a thing going on for some time. I sure hope the Old Man knows what he is doing.”

* * * * * *

Monday morning, the First Sergeant pulled me aside and told me the troops were all abuzz with gossip. He wondered how I wanted him to handle it. I told him I would clear things up at the morning formation.

* * * * * *

When I arrived in the 1st Cavalry Division at Fort Hood in 1973, my first assignment was an aviation slot, the division G-2 Air. During the Engineer Officer Advanced Course when I got back from Vietnam, I was in “Cat B” aviator status, meaning I continued on flight status, maintaining my flight physical and instrument knowledge proficiency, but was relieved from actual flying requirements while I was a student officer.

To resume my “Cat A” flying status at Fort Hood, I was assigned to get my proficiency hours with a sister unit from the one I had flown with in Vietnam. When “The Cav” stood down in Vietnam and returned to Fort Hood, Charlie Company of the famed 227^th Aviation Battalion was detached and reassigned to the First Aviation Brigade, as the new 60^th Assault Helicopter Company, retaining their callsign as “Ghost Riders.” My Aircraft Commander callsign in country had been “Ghost Rider 8.”

At Fort Hood I was assigned for flight proficiency time to Delta, 227^th. Serving on General Staff, my duty was running the G-2 Air section, so I had to get my flying hours on my free time. The only aircraft I was rated in was the good old Huey, so to schedule the 80 hours per year I needed to maintain flight status made things particularly difficult, for D/227’s operations staff as well as for me.

The G-2 gave me time when I first arrived to renew my instrument qualifications, but from that time on I had to find my own time to meet my minimum requirements, including night flying, instrument time and required periodic proficiency checkrides with an instructor pilot. That meant Delta Company had to schedule a bird and crew at a time when I was available. It became a major challenge for us all.

After a year on division staff, I moved to the 1st Cavalry Division engineer battalion, 8^th Engineers [Skybeavers], to command Charlie Company [Airmobile]. Being a company commander made scheduling my required flight time even more difficult, so the aviation battalion decided to transition me to the OH-58, the scout helicopter which was flown by a single aviator, much cheaper to operate and easier to schedule.

So, for the remainder of 1975, I got the bulk of my required hours flying the OH-58, mostly on Sunday afternoons when things were quiet in the company. At Fort Hood in those days, all Army helicopter operations were flown low-level.

**OH-58 for Guy’s Sunday Afternoon Flights**

In 1972, during the North Vietnamese Army’s Easter offensive, the bad guys had introduced the Soviet shoulder-fired heat-seeking missile into the fray. Suddenly, the aviation tactics that had served the Army so well for years in Vietnam, flying at 2,000 feet above ground level, put us exactly in the kill zone for the heat-seeking Strella SA-7 missile. We quickly had to adapt to low-level flying to survive.

In those days, the 1st Cavalry Division [TRICAP, or Triple Capability, meaning one Armored Brigade, one Airmobile Infantry Brigade, and one Air Cavalry Combat Brigade] was the Army’s experimental test unit for developing tactics and procedures for Army forces to survive in the central European theater. Soviet-controlled forces outnumbered NATO/US forces by a frightening ratio, so low level was the only way Army aviation could survive in that environment. It was termed “nap of the earth” flying. Low level in those days meant no helicopter could fly anywhere on post higher than 50 feet elevation, with two exceptions: Over the cantonment area we came up to 200 feet, and a Chinook carrying a sling load could fly where the load was 50 feet up. Otherwise, we flew so low between the trees that we came up to clear barbed-wire fences and came down to clear under power lines. This meant even at night, which was scary.

Besides low-level flight, the Cav also utilized tactical Forward Area Refuel/Rearm Points, better known as FARRPs, at various frequently-changed locations around the huge Fort Hood reservation. All training flights refueled at the FARRPs hot, meaning the engine remained running and the rotor turning while the crew pumped jet fuel into the aircraft tanks. It was a wild time to be flying in the Cav.

When I knew I would be flying, I had the First Sergeant select two or three troops who wanted to ride along with the Old Man. This was a treat for the troops, and the First Sergeant used it as an incentive to reward our high-performing engineer soldiers. I would sign for my OH-58 at the post airfield, then fly to a landing pad near the company barracks and pick up the selected troops for a couple of hours of low level flight hugging the varied terrain at Fort Hood. While it was great fun, sometimes a troop would become queasy at the low-level maneuvers of the little bird. I tried to warn them ahead of time.

* * * * * *

While I was at the Engineer Officer Advanced Course, I met Kay, an enormously talented woman, at the time working as the Executive Secretary to the Director of the DC branch of Stanford Research Institute, a think-tank for national strategic policy. She held a Top-Secret clearance years before I got mine. I only found out later that the FBI had checked me out when she started to see me.

In the early 1960s, Kay had been enlisted in the Army at Fort Huachuca, Arizona, before attending Women’s Army Corps Officer Candidate School and being commissioned a WAC lieutenant. After marrying and becoming pregnant, she was forced to resign, since the Army didn’t allow pregnant soldiers to serve in those days. Sadly, that marriage didn’t survive.

Kay loved the Army, way more than I did. While living in Washington, D. C., she had joined an Army Reserve Schools unit, serving as a drill instructor while she worked to get her commission restored in the Army Reserve. For her two-week summer active duty with her unit, she served as a basic training drill sergeant for WAC recruits at Fort Jackson, SC.

It didn’t take me long to figure out that being a bachelor officer at Fort Hood was not the greatest life situation, so I proposed to Kay and we were married in DC in 1974. She resigned from her Reserve unit to come to live with me at Fort Hood, before her commission had come through. Loving Army life, she immediately enlisted in the Texas National Guard, the 49^th Armored Division. They assigned her to the 149^th Adjutant General Company as a Platoon Sergeant.

**Kay Was a Member of the Texas Army National Guard**

So, for a year, during which I had become a company commander, she attended weekend drills with her unit in Austin, Texas. For summer camp in July 1975, the 49^th Armored Division convoyed to North Fort Hood, to train for two weeks in facilities almost 30 miles north of main post.

Since the AG company took a break on the middle Sunday, Kay got some free time that afternoon. So, I signed out an OH-58 to go flying that day and picked up two of my troops at the company, leaving the left front seat open. We flew up to the helipad at North Fort Hood, where Kay was waiting in uniform. Her commander had given her permission to go flying with me, so I picked her up and she rode in the front seat beside me for a couple of hours.

I had not told my troops what the story was, because of the noise of the helicopter when I picked them up at the company. So, they were astonished when we picked up a gorgeous WAC NCO to ride in the front seat. I had a helmet for her, so as we flew all over post, up and down the Cowhouse Creek ravine and around the hundreds of thousands of acres of the post range area, we talked on the intercom.

It wasn’t until we landed at a FARRP to refuel that the troops got a good look at her. While I was pumping jet fuel into the little bird, everyone had to get out of the aircraft in case of fire. During the wait, Kay took off her helmet and shook out her long auburn hair. My two troops were too awe-struck to speak to her, so they just stood there gaping. In those days, she really looked like a movie star.

It never occurred to me, as we finished refueling and I flew her back to the North Fort helipad, that the troops wouldn’t know that she was my wife. When I returned to main post and dropped them off at our company helipad, they couldn’t wait to tell their buddies what they had just seen the Old Man do. Before I had even gotten the helicopter back to the main post airfield to close out my flight, the entire company was abuzz.

And so, it happened that at Monday morning company formation, this Old Man stood before his assembled troops to explain what was going on. While the First Sergeant afterward confirmed everything I said, some engineer troops were still skeptical, thinking their commander was up to something.

How could the Old Man be married to someone so good looking? Army regulations forbid giving rides to civilians, even if they are married. And what was he doing with an enlisted WAC, and a Platoon Sergeant at that? Dang, but he is really up to something!

Even after the troops got to meet her at later company functions, the Skybeaver troops of Charlie Company, 8^th Engineers, still held the Old Man in awe. Didn’t hurt to have a great wife.

**Remembering Kay**
**D 1/19/2009. Arlington, Section 59, plot 3718**

Jan 15 2021

Twelfth Man – 1984

Back in 1984 I was in my fourth year of what eventually became a twenty-five-year career as a Lincoln Mercury dealer in Seattle, Washington.

The Seahawks were an expansion franchise owned by the Nordstrom’s and, despite a respectable won-loss record with Jim Zorn at quarterback and Steve Largent pulling down his passes, they were having trouble filling the old Kingdome. Ten thousand or more tickets went unsold at each home game.

I had signed on as a radio and TV advertiser for Seahawks games from the moment I bought my dealership in 1980. KIRO had the contract to broadcast all things Seahawk and my sales manager’s brother was the GM at KIRO. I was a fan and an easy sell and willing buyer. My dealership and KIRO both had a vested interest in the Seahawk’s success. KIRO and Seahawk management worked hand-in-glove on promotions to boost fan interest in the team.

Seattle Seahawks Logo

One Monday morning my KIRO advertising rep and I met to discuss media buys for the upcoming season. During our meeting he solicited my advice on what promotions might win over more Seattleites, get them more involved in supporting the team. He said there was going to be a big meeting with Seahawk management the next week to decide what promotions to adopt and he was trying to get ideas from advertisers. Asking for advice is the sort of thing a good sales representative does to keep a client involved. Nevertheless, I took him seriously.

In 1984 Seattle was definitely a different place than many cities in America. Some say it still is. Seattleites viewed themselves as civilized. To a fault they drove, acted and spoke courteously, but many looked down their noses at professional sports. Support for the University of Washington Huskies was rabid but playing sports professionally was viewed as a bit crass.

As my rep and I discussed the issue, I told him the Seahawks needed a more collegiate connection with the fans, more rah-rah like the Huskies had. My thoughts went back to Army football. I told him how the entire Corps of Cadets attended every game and stood in support throughout; how we were the 12th man, the rocket*, the roar that might just spur the Army Team on to victory. I told him how, in the Navy game of 1968 on a signal from the rabble rousers (West Point cheerleaders), we all stripped off our dress grey tunics to expose 12th man sweatshirts we wore underneath; how at the Penn State game of that same year the 300 of us who attended carried two air horns each and on a signal from the rabble rousers blasted them in unison completely silencing 50,000 Penn State fans. I encouraged him to find some way to instill a kind of collegiate connection between the Seahawks and fans that the Corps had as the 12th man.

My KIRO rep left my office that day pumped up on the idea of a promotion centered around the concept of fans as the 12th man on the field. Two weeks later he came back and said the team’s management had decided to adopt the 12th Man concept and they were trying to decide just how to implement it. Later that year the Seahawks retired the number 12 and made the 12th Man a centerpiece of their marketing. The rest is history.

In a Seattle Times story, the Seahawks credited a woman named Karen Ford with calling and suggesting the 12th Man jersey for the fans. In fact, there may have been many people who suggested the same or similar ideas. But I will always believe my sales rep got the ball rolling with the enthusiasm he got from my stories about Army football and the BOTL.

Imagine my frustration years later when Texas A&M sued the Seahawks for using “the 12th Man” promotion. It was supposedly THEIR long-standing tradition, one which they had registered as a trademark. The Seahawks caved and since 2006 have paid Texas A&M to use the expression “the 12s” to describe their fans, renegotiating usage rights every five years.

The Seahawks have gone on to appear in two Super Bowls and win one. Their new stadium, Century Link Field, is filled to capacity at every home game and the 12s are the noisiest, most disciplined fans in the NFL. So, I guess the Seahawks can afford it, but it still irks me.

A little web research revealed that idea of the fan as the 12th man on the field did not begin at West Point and Texas A&M’s claim that it began there in 1922 is questionable at best. Through the years the expression “12th man” used to describe fans (or even a referee) appeared in countless newspaper stories about many different college teams of many different sports. However, the 12th Man traditions at Texas A&M and West Point are so similar, I believe they migrated from West Point to Texas A&M, brought there by tactical staff who were West Point grads. Texas A&M did not register their trademark until 1990.

Here is a link to a video summary of that Penn State game in 1968. It is amazing what you can find on the web: November 2, 1968 – Penn State 28, Army 24 (10 Minutes or Less) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cHPHXR29T_c

*A traditional West Point football cheer led by the cadets that goes like this:

(Whistle) –

BOOM! – Ahhh

U – S – M – A, Rah! Rah!

Hoo-Rah! Hoo-Rah!

AR-MAY! Rah!

Team! Team! Team!

** Editor’s Note: This photo shows the Corps of Cadets at the Army-Navy game, November 30, 1968. The Army football team, energized by the unexpected show of support, went on to beat Navy 21-14!

Post Laotian Invasion – 1971

First Day as a Forward Observer – 1970

Vietnam – An Ironic Conclusion – 1975

Flying with Kay – 1975

Twelfth Man – 1984

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Suzanne Rice

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