Suzanne Rice

Apr 15 2020

Getting Ready for Vietnam – 1970

I chose Armor branch in the main because of the large number of positive Armor role models on the Academy faculty. As I was also volunteering for a Vietnam assignment – 3-4 Cav, 25^th Inf Division – I also chose the required six to eight-month detail in a like unit to get some experience before being thrown into combat. So, I wound up first in the 3-1 Cav, 1^st Armored Division at Fort Hood, TX.

Looking back choosing the hot, dry Texas desert full of rattlesnakes to train for combat in a triple canopy tropical jungle full of cobras should not have earned me a passing grade on any rational geography quiz.

My Fort Hood assignment situation may help to understand some of the context we faced at that time. With respect to my armored Cav platoon, I was extremely fortunate. It was pretty much at full strength and most of the vehicles could move, shoot, and communicate. One downside was that four of those vehicles were M114’s – probably the most worthless piece of crap I ever had to try to work with.

Those so-called scout vehicles had problems moving in mud, had runaway electrical turrets that cost literally days of training time due to constantly needing repairs and to causing rib injuries to the crew.

Fortunately, I had great soldiers – literally, the best in the Division. For those not knowing about armored cavalry platoons, we were arguably the smallest combined arms team in the Army. At the Division level, my Sheridan section (3 vehicles) won the Sheridan tank gunnery qualification competition, my scout squad won that competition by a wide margin, my infantry squad got the only perfect score in the infantry squad attack course, and my mortar track tied for high score in the mortar crew annual qualification firing exercise. Those results were all due to having an experienced NCO leadership team that included a fiery old corps E-7 Irish platoon sergeant with more than 15 years’ service. I literally got a master’s degree in small unit military leadership working with him. To distinguish this situation from what was to come later – my equally excellent platoon sergeant in Vietnam was one year younger than me (having spent some time at both Lehigh University and Penn State before getting my USMA appointment my high school graduation year was two years ahead of many of my classmates); was on his third tour there; and got his 7^th, 8^th, and 9^th Purple Hearts while we served together (you can decide if you think that made me a good or bad platoon leader).

One more story will also reinforce my satisfaction at being in the Cav. At the end of one training exercise, our Squadron Commander had just left the tank gunnery range we had been on for three days of firing when we got an idea. At a range of slightly more than 2 miles (3340 meters on the range finder) were a few Armored Personnel Carrier hulls that were used primarily for tank Sabot gunnery. Since we had already notified Range Control we would be closing down shortly, I got on the radio to ask the Squadron Commander for permission to try hitting one of the far targets with one of our missiles (costing $3000 each). His reply as I remember it was that we had already notified Range Control we were leaving, it was getting dusk, visibility was not the best…and that he bet us a case of beer we could not hit one. The crew and I sprinted to the firing line, raced through the firing checks, carefully laid the gun tube from low to target, and fired. After tracking the missile to the selected target, we jumped in two jeeps and raced down range to check the result. When too many holes would not let us visually identify our point impact, I waved my hand several inches over each hole in the target until I found the one that was still hot – and it was only 18 inches from dead center of mass. I relayed the results to the Squadron Commander immediately. To his credit, his driver dropped off a case of Michelob at our orderly room at noon the following day. The entire Sheridan section shared in the spoils. It was a good day to be in the Cav.

One more story is required to set the stage for my tour in Vietnam. For those of my classmates wondering why they could not get a date with Jane Fonda on that Memorial Day in 1970 when we were still 2nd Lieutenants, it was because she was with me at Fort Hood…eat your hearts out. My platoon was on riot control duty that weekend having been through training that included bayonet drills and weapons qualifications. We were all lounging in the day room when the call came in to report to the Killeen Gate at Fort Hood to repel protestors. When we got there, we jumped off our trucks to form up behind a single thin line of some two dozen MPs who were blocking the gate from Ms. Fonda and a couple hundred of her closest friends along with their usual TV camera crews. The MPs in the back line saw us forming up and seemed a bit relieved that reinforcements had arrived.

That’s when the fun started. We were in roughly four columns of ten with NCO’s at the rear, me at the front. We had our M14 rifles, gas masks, and bayonets. Live ammo was only issued to NCO’s, the designated sniper, and me. As the visiting group engaged in anti-Vietnam and anti-military rhetoric my platoon got swept up in the joy of the holiday. I started hearing urgent requests coming from behind me in the ranks: “Hey sir – can you move to the left? I can’t see her tits!” followed by “Hey, sir – when you’re done with her could you pass her back?” I turned around, called them all from at ease to attention, and then pointed out to them that the TV cameras accompanying the protestors also had microphones, so we would all wind up being in trouble depending on who heard what. That just brought out a round of giggles from most of them, including some of the NCOs. Never have had a problem telling friends and family this story when asked if our soldiers have great senses of humor. But they did quiet down. Then one of the protestors using a bullhorn shouted: “We demand the right to lower that flag (the large holiday flag on the post flagpole just inside the gate and to our immediate right) and burn it in protest!” Don’t honestly remember what I thought, then, but believe the current vernacular for my reaction would be “WTF?”. I spun quickly to face my platoon, called them to attention, then followed with the commands: “Fix…bayonets! Sniper, one magazine lock and load!” I looked over my shoulder and saw most of that back line of MPs had clearly heard my commands and were now looking over their shoulders at me with eyes opening ever wider. I then instructed in a very loud voice: “Make all bayonet thrusts below the waist! Above the waist use the vertical butt stroke series. Sniper – aim below the waist. But nobody – and I mean nobody – reaches that flagpole. Is that clear?” The aggressiveness of the replied chorus “Yes, Sir!” let me know comfortably that giggle time was over and executing our mission was not in doubt. The Sheriff showed up just then, telling their crowd to clear his street since they did not have a parade permit. They disbanded and we returned to our barracks day room assembly location.

Later that afternoon, we watched the protesters on TV burn one of their own American flags in the high school football stadium. Our dayroom discussion then moved on to how we each felt about their right to burn their flag and how it felt to get ready to use bayonets and bullets against the citizens of the very country whose constitution we had sworn to uphold and defend. It was something of an existential experience. When asked by my sniper if I would have given him the order to shoot one of them, I told him only after I had shot the first one in the ass, leading by example. Here the mission was to protect the flag not to kill the “enemy”. Ms. Fonda’s protests would later inflict themselves again on my world in Vietnam when it was broadcast that she encouraged our soldiers to mutiny.

Mar 31 2020

Pedaling Across America – 2014

Every five years, the members of the West Point Class of 1969 meet to reminisce about the years since their graduation, to greet old friends, and to remember members of the class who had passed into the unseen Long Gray Line in the preceding years. Their wives, Class widows and sometimes family members join them. Classmates arrive in New York from all parts of the world by the usual modes of transportation – bus, train, airplane, cars. However, in 2014, several grads and their wives arrived in a unique way: they pedaled across the USA on their bicycles from San Francisco to West Point. The editors of thedaysforward wanted to know more about this amazing feat, so we interviewed Rose and Tom Ramos about their incredible journey. Enjoy! Editors

How did the idea to bike all across the country from CA to the Class reunion come up?

Answer: Rose had completed a cross-country bike ride with two women in 2005, that’s how I first knew about her, and I thought it would be quite an adventure to do another cross country ride, this time with classmates, to go to a class reunion. I asked Rose if she’d like to do another cross-country bike ride, and she looked at me and said, “Okay.”

What preparations did you have to make?

Answer: Both of us have an ethic of working out daily, so we kept to our normal workout routines. (For instance, mine was a thirteen-and-a-half-mile daily bike ride into the Altamount Hills at noon. Rose did daily workouts at a local athletic club supplemented with bike rides with other women.) One year before the start date for the reunion cross-country ride, Rose decided we needed to augment our routines, so we signed up to do five or six “century rides” around northern California. A century is an organized bike ride with about a thousand riders, they take place on weekends and provide a lunch, and they usually come in two varieties, a hundred kilometers and/or a hundred miles. Our favorite was “America’s Most Beautiful Ride,” which is a seventy-two-mile ride around Lake Tahoe, and it occurs each year on the first Sunday in June.

What was your favorite part of the ride?

Answer: This is rough to answer, because each part of the country had so much to offer. I like Rose’s attitude that each day is an adventure to see new things – and that’s what it was like. Scenery-wise, I loved bicycling across the Sierra Mountains. We went over Donner Pass and looked down on Lake Tahoe – and we got to rest at our cabin in the Pine forests of Truckee, California for two days. Cycling through the national parks in southern Utah was spectacular, and I remember one day leaving Capitol Reef Park and cycling along a river canyon eyeing Indian petroglyphs on cliffs along the way.

Crossing the Wasatch Mountains of Utah and the Rockies in Colorado offered more spectacular views. One day we were climbing up a mountain in eastern Utah; we were going at a steady three or four miles an hour, and I heard loud mooing coming out of a pasture. It was a cow protecting her calf from a large coyote that was snapping at the calf for a meal. Three other cows came up and chased away the coyote. As I was watching, there must have been twenty or thirty cars passing by, and I’m sure they all missed seeing this dramatic scene. That’s the difference between driving across the country in a car and cycling across. You see much more while cycling, and you get to talk to people. In the East, we got to see in Kentucky how tobacco is grown and processed. Got to see bourbon country. Cycled the entire length of the Blue Ridge and Shenandoah Skyline Parkways. Some our best experiences though, were when we met and stayed with classmates and their families. We’ll talk about that in a later question.

What was the hardest part of the trip?

Answer: For me, it was the day we had to cycle through an area where signs along the road said it was the “Desolation Wilderness.” We had left Capitol Reef Park, entered into the desert, and had to take a detour south to a bridge that crossed the Colorado River to end up for the night at Hite Ranger Station. We misjudged our water supply and I remember drinking lots of water from our water bottles, and we ran out of water with ten miles still to go. When we reached the ranger station, we were parched for water; we drank from a fountain, but the ranger told us we couldn’t take a shower. What a welcome! In Kansas, daytime temperatures reached 104 degrees, and I had to keep adjusting my rear-view mirror that was hooked to my sunglasses. The heat had melted the plastic arm holding the small mirror! And I didn’t particularly like going through Hardin County, Kentucky and into Virginia. It seemed like everyone along the road owned a dog, they let the dogs roam free, and one dog snapped at Rose’s leg. And there were Confederate battle flags hanging everywhere.

A Typical View Along the Way Across Kentucky

Was there Class participation on the trip as you traveled?

Answer: When I asked the class if anyone was interested in joining Rose and I on the bike ride, the first response came from Paul Ireland. Paul and I spent two years plotting out the route for the ride, and Paul even did a route reconnaissance in his car across the entire country the summer before our ride. Three months before we were to depart, Paul had a heart attack and left us, devastating us. John and Nell McBeth stepped up and offered to join the ride with their home RV, with Nell and John alternating days to cycle with us. Phil Clark and Tom Smith volunteered to join the ride, and Tommy came on and off through the country, while Phil stayed with us from San Francisco to Colorado. Some of the best highlights of the trip were meeting classmates and their families along the way. In Colorado, I got an email from Tommy Venard that we had to stay at his home in Gunnison.

Dinner at the Vernards’ home in Gunnison, CO

When we arrived, Tommy greeted us with cold beers in an ice chest. Polly Venard was gorgeous – she prepared a feast for us the night we arrived and we spent a wonderful evening with the whole Venard clan. Polly suffers from MS, so Tommy refurbished their home so almost every shelf can be reached from a wheelchair. It was so obvious how much he loved her. Johnny Peters and Mary Kay held a grand reunion for us when we reached their home in Pueblo – about five or six classmates showed up. Mary Kay set up signs on the streets of Pueblo to lead us to their home. Doug Fitzgerald joined us on his bike for a day – it was a one-hundred-mile day. Joe McCarville and Diane arranged for the local American Legion post motorcyclists to escort us into Hutchison, Kansas; people lined the streets to watch us parade into town. Joe and Larry Archer joined in the parade on their bicycles. Then, we enjoyed a dinner with a band of classmates, many of whom traveled hours to meet us. Jim Cox drove all the way from Texas to meet us in Kansas; he arrived with a bottle of Scotch and a band of cigars. Jim told us he spent a day at a shopping mall first to buy the Scotch and then to find some cigars whose flavor matched the liquor. Jim drove his Mustang along a road at five miles an hour to act as a windbreak against the wind, and that night, we sat down outside our motel and had a “mid-country” celebration as we smoked cigars and drank Scotch. In Illinois, Suzanne Rice (https://thedaysforward.com/suzanne-rice/ and her sister Stephanie traveled from Georgia to meet us in Carbondale. They presented us with a basket of fruit and goodies and we had a wonderful dinner together.

Centralia, Illinois Apples and GA Peanuts

Next, we were met by Karl Ivey (https://thedaysforward.com/karl-ivey/ ), who escorted us through Illinois and all the way to the Ohio River – and found us a wonderful rental home to stay in during a thunderstorm.

As we passed into Kentucky, we were joined for a day by Bill Ryneasrson and Terry Strickler. Bill cycled forty miles with us and escorted us through Bourbon country before putting us up at his daughter’s home. While in Kentucky, Carl Oborski drove fifty miles from his home to have dinner with us. A few days later, Beast Squad mate Bob Setzer and Gail drove from Dayton, Ohio to escort us through Kentucky for two solid days. Gail met us every ten miles or so in her car and kept us supplied with fruits and goodies. Passing into Virginia, Red Taylor and Sharon put us up for a night in their home and Red took us on a VIP tour of VMI, and we spent and evening with Casey Brower. The next night Guy Miller (https://thedaysforward.com/guy-miller/ ) and Noreen offered us their home. Then, we descended on Phil and Claudia Clark (https://thedaysforward.com/claudia-clark/) at their home where they put us up for four days and hosted a reunion with all sorts of classmates.

What great hosts they were. Mike Allen joined us for the rest of the bike ride to West Point. In Pennsylvania, John Lagere joined us for a day of cycling, and Bobby Jannerone (https://thedaysforward.com/bob-jannarone/) and Linda arranged for their local chapter of the American Legion to host us for a wonderful dinner.

At the American Legion in PA with Bob Jannarone

Bob and Holly Kimmitt met us at the Antietam Battle Site and Holly joined us for the ride to Gettysburg.

A covey of classmates arrived, and Larry Swesey gave us all a wonderful tour of the battlefield. Joe Casillo joined the bike ride for two days through Pennsylvania. And Dave Metzler and Mary Theresa offered us their home along with Bob Jenkins and Terry, and we all met at John Leone’s home for dinner. Next stop, Mike Collacico and Gayle met us at Camp Buckner and helped us get escorted in through Washington Gate.

Set the scene with the clowns.

Answer: That photo with the clowns was taken at a small town outside of Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, it was an apple festival, and the clowns were members of a local charity group who had volunteered to be escorts at the festival.

How long did it take to ride across the entire USA?

Answer: It took us two months to cross the country. At a few points along the trip, we took one- or two-day rest breaks – we took a rest break every ten days or so. We averaged cycling 65 miles a day, each day we cycled. It was a surprise that we should keep to that pace, but I found that the morning after a 65-mile day, my body felt fine, and I looked forward to having new adventures.

American Legion Escort into Hutchison, KS

For further information on Rose and Tom’s amazing adventure, you can read their blog written along the way: https://gatetopoint.tumblr.com/

Mar 08 2020

Space-A Travel – 2000

Our daughter, Lesley, was a Fulbright Scholar in Mainz, Germany in 2000. Our daughter, Meredith, still a student at the University of Dallas (UD), had just completed her Rome semester at the UD Rome campus. She was spending some time with Lesley in Mainz before returning to the USA. Bill and I and our son, Christopher, aged 11, decided to try a new adventure – fly Space-Available to Germany to visit them. (Retired military could fly on a regularly scheduled military flight if there were extra seats – space available.) We would meet the girls at the Frankfurt Airport, pick up a rental car and stay overnight with friends in nearby Hofheim (The daughters of both families had participated in a high school Exchange Program in 1996 and had kept in touch.) before going to visit friends in Schwarzenau where we had lived during Bill’s second assignment in Germany from 1982-86. Our plan was to drive from there to Austria to meet friends Lesley had made during some of her foreign travels. Great plan if we could get on the plane in Atlanta!

For a Space-A flight, possible passengers must arrive at the airport many hours earlier than usual passengers, sign in and wait while the ticketed military personnel and their families are checked in and processed for the flight (Most of them are not traveling for a pleasure trip like ours, but are heading to a new duty station with all the apprehensions and stresses of moving to a foreign country). For the Space-A travelers, it was a waiting game; it was only after all the active-duty soldiers and families were on the plane, did it become clear if there were any seats left over. After about five hours of waiting, we were told that we had the last three seats! We quickly went to the pay phone to place a call to Germany to say that we would be in Frankfurt the next day. Yeah! The adventure was only beginning as we grabbed our bags and rushed to the plane.

No sooner did we store our carry-on bags under our seats and buckle our seat belts than an announcement came from a stewardess who was walking up and down the aisle, “Colonel Rice, Colonel Rice” repeatedly until Bill responded. The stewardess stopped at our seats and said, “All three of you come with me and bring your bags.” Were we being removed from the flight? Why would that be? What about Lesley and Meredith in Germany?

As we re-entered the terminal, the stewardess told us quietly that Bill was the highest-ranking officer on the plane and that is why we were escorted off the plane first. It seems everyone would be getting off the plane behind us. The plane’s radio was not working, so the plane could not fly. We were given a voucher for dinner, as was the entire passenger list. They had no idea how long the repairs would take so we were advised to have dinner and listen for announcements about the progress of the repair team. In case of a long delay, we were offered a voucher for an overnight stay at a nearby motel which we declined; we could drive home in 20 minutes, if necessary. We ate dinner and then went back to the gate for a few hours sitting on the floor as we awaited the outcome of the repair work.

About six hours later, we got the word that the radio had been repaired and we could board the plane again. Because of the difference in time and the fact that Lesley lived in a dormitory where the phone was in the hallway, we had been unable to contact them about the delay and when we might arrive (they only discovered our long delay after they arrived at the Frankfurt airport – six hours too early). Later, we learned that part of the long delay was that their usual procedures for replacing the radio were unsuccessful; someone eventually thought to buy a new radio at RadioShack and install it. Only problem with that was that all the Radio Shack stores were already closed for the night. Getting a replacement meant getting a manager to open his store long after business hours.

When we finally got into the air, the rest of the trip was wonderful and went off as planned: visiting with old friends and making some new ones. The return Space-A was another story.

In and Out of Germany at Rhein-Main Air Base

We returned to Rhein-Main Airport following the same instructions: be there hours early and this time even a little earlier since we had to return the rental car beforehand. Luckily, the rental car office was in the same building as the check-in counter, so it didn’t take us long to return the car. It was only then, that we realized our lovely May trip to Germany was ending on Memorial Day weekend. We didn’t think that would affect us in Germany, but it seems that the school year for Department of Defense schools had just ended and many American dependents had decided to use this weekend to take a trip back to the USA. Why not? Summer was just beginning! Who would make the cut for travel – most of us were Space-Available? At the Rhein-Main desk, we were told to sign in and see what would happen. At some point, we were told that we were on the flight list; that would get Bill back to work on the day after Memorial Day as planned. We were on our way – at least until an announcement: this airplane needed some repairs, could not fly and we should come back tomorrow when they hoped repairs would be completed. We got the rental car back and went to find the military transient billets (hotel) on Rhein Main. No luck – no rooms at the inn! That is when Bill decided to drive back to Mainz and spend the rest of the day with Lesley and Meredith – there was no answer when we called the dorm phone, so we drove the hour trip to Mainz to surprise them!

We expected them to help us find a gasthaus (bed and breakfast German-style) for the night and have dinner with them. Turns out that Lesley had a better idea: stay in the dorm with them, Bill and Christopher in her tiny room – on the floor and in the twin bed; the three Rice ladies on the couches in the dormitory common area. She fixed us a lovely German oatmeal breakfast before we headed to Frankfurt again the next morning.

Getting back to Rhein-Main, we found a different problem: the original plane was not in service, yet, but a different plane might be possible transportation if they could get special permission to carry civilian passengers – it was a C-130 cargo plane that could carry 90 passengers and crew above a large open bay below for cargo.

Air Force C-130 with the Rice Family and Dangerous Cargo

If civilians were to travel on this flight, special permission was required because of the hazardous cargo aboard that had priority over Space-A passengers. Eventually, permission was granted, and we were ready to travel. Next problem: the flight was going to Dover, Delaware instead of Atlanta, Georgia.

No problem. We’d get a rental car in Dover and drive home. That turned out to be easier said than done because it was Memorial Day weekend and there were no rental cars left when we arrived in Dover. We could get an airport shuttle the next morning to Baltimore Airport (two-hour drive) where there would be more cars available. We did that and from Baltimore, we started on the additional 14-hour drive. However, the trip ended up taking a lot longer. As we entered the city of Washington, D.C. on that Sunday morning, we made our first acquaintance with Rolling Thunder. We were met with hundreds of bikers on the streets of D.C. as we tried to pass through.

Rolling Thunder had been coming to D.C. on Memorial Day weekend since 1987 to commemorate the lives of their fallen comrades and to keep a light shining on the POW/MIAs of foreign wars. Coming from all over the country, these veterans would spend Memorial Day together, reminiscing and honoring our fallen military heroes. To accommodate all the bikers, the roads around Washington were closed or re-routed.

We found ourselves going around and around in circles not knowing where we were, where we were going, or how to get out of there. The map that we purchased to get home did not reflect the temporary closings and gave us no clue how to get out of town. (This was long before GPS.) Though we thought we would never find our way out of the big city, it was an unexpected, heartwarming and patriotic end to our Space-A adventure. And Bill did get home in time to go to work on Tuesday morning, though often along the way home we doubted if we would ever get home! It was quite an adventure.

Feb 13 2020

What West Point Means to Me – Jack Gafford

West Point sets a guideline for my life conduct. West Point is not perfect but points out what can be better. It has been forgiving when I strayed from the path of doing what is right in the name of expediency. West Point helped me to understand perfect conduct is an impossible goal and I must sometimes take a step backward to move two steps forward.

West Point taught me to admit when I was wrong. Admission of wrong is very powerful and allows me to walk the path in a more honorable way.

West Point also taught me the benefits of teamwork and respect for every team member. I gained the courage to embrace interdependence, not independence. I owe my company mates for many lessons shown to me.

West Point’s motto “Duty, Honor, Country” has become for me “Duty, Honor, Humankind.” So, today, I may think in global terms, but I try to work and accomplish goals which are local.

Feb 13 2020

What West Point Means to Me – Pat Porter

For me West Point represents an ideal, a special place, a special experience, something that is a source of great pride. We not only were part of it as Cadets for four years, but we remain part of it forever, as members of The Long Gray Line.

Four years at West Point was not a typical college experience. It was extraordinarily rigorous, regimented, and demanding – academically, physically, mentally and emotionally.

There were good times – football weekends, Army-Navy games, athletic events, hops, company intramurals, Buckner summer (even though very physically demanding, I enjoyed it), First Class trip, classmate camaraderie, and many others. I didn’t even mind the parades (I’m in the minority on that), and was very proud to be part of the Color Guard in the fall of First Class year. There were also the tough, grinding experiences – Beast Barracks, Plebe year, gloom period, punishment tours, reveille, inspections, regimented life and other inconvenient obligations of being a cadet. But then, they were meant to be tough – they were part of the experience, part of the character molding, part of the making of a West Pointer. Whether enjoyable or unpleasant, all of those experiences were integral in shaping me and my future in a significant and positive way.

During the earlier years after graduation I did not give much thought or reflection to my years at West Point. My focus was initially on fulfilling the demands of being an Army Officer. After my service obligation, I focused on my civilian career. It was not until my first reunion at the 15 year mark, that I began to reflect on the profound impact West Point had on shaping my life, and the extraordinary influence of that experience. That contemplation and realization has only deepened as the years roll on. The camaraderie, classmate bonds, and the unique, special, and intense experiences we all shared are things I genuinely treasure. Very few young men and women ever have the opportunity for this kind of special experience. I am thankful that I had that opportunity, and am very proud to be a member of The Long Gray Line.