David honors military veterans

Eddie David has a special way to honor U.S. military veterans from Chaves and Eddy counties.

David, officers and employees of his company, and friends work for months planning a dinner and program to honor a veteran.

The most recent veteran honored was Charles “Chuck” Joy, a 100-year-old, World War II bomber pilot.

Joy, a retired petroleum engineer from Artesia, was the fourth veteran honored at a Patriot Appreciation Dinner. The dinner was held Saturday night in the conference room at Lovelace Regional Hospital in Roswell. 

The dinner, sponsored by David Petroleum Corp. of Roswell since 2009, is the brainchild of David, the company’s president.

Joy flew 50 combat missions as a pilot with the U.S. 15th Air Force over Europe and North Africa in a B-24 Liberator bomber.

Maj. Gen. Jerry Grizzle, NMMI superintendent, and Joy

During the dinner, Joy told how he had tried to join the British Royal Air Force (RAF) or the Royal Canadian Air Force (RCAF) before the United States entered World War II. However, the RCAF recruiter told him the U.S. government had asked Americans not be recruited as the United States would be entering the war.

“I was attending Compton Junior College in California when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor in December 1941. I went down to the recruiting center, where I passed the test for military pilot training. I was placed on inactive duty while waiting to be activated,” Joy recalled.

“On Nov. 22, 1942, the Army ordered me onto active duty. I was sent to San Antonio, Texas. While there, I attended classification and preflight schools. Then I was sent to primary flight training in Muskogee, Okla.,” he said. “After primary training, I was sent to basic flying school in Coffeyville, Kan.”

His next assignment was advanced flight training at Mission, Texas, near the border with Mexico.

“Sometimes we would buzz the bullring during bullfights. These drew protests from the government of Mexico,” Joy said.

“After graduating from advanced flight training, I was assigned as a copilot on a B-24 crew at Pueblo, Colo. The first week I was there, eight aircraft flew into Pike’s Peak,” he added.

Before deployment to the European Theater, Joy was assigned to Long Island, N.Y., where he was to pick up a B-24 and ferry it across the Atlantic to Italy for combat duty.

His flight took him from Long Island to Palm Beach, Fla., then to Cuba, Puerto Rico, Trinidad, Brazil, Dakar, Tunisia, and eventually Italy.

Along the way, his bomber experienced engine oil loss caused by a whisky cork in the tank. Only two of the eight B-24s in his flight arrived safely in Italy.

“While stationed in Italy, I flew 50 bombing missions over France, Germany, Austria, Hungary, Bulgaria, Romania, and Northern Italy,” Joy recalled.

During these missions, he flew the lead aircraft for five bomber groups.

“Combat was a bad experience. Every morning you got up and didn’t know if you would return that night,” he said.

Eddie David hosting dinner

Joy remembers one mission over Munich in which the B-24 flying in front of him took a direct hit in its bomb bay. “When the bombs exploded, the aircraft just disappeared.”

Joy returned to school after the war, enrolling in Howard College in Birmingham, Ala., in 1947. He later dropped out to work for two years, then enrolled at the University of Alabama.

“In 1954, I received my MS in Petroleum Engineering, placing in the top 15 graduates in a class of 1,200 engineers. I accepted a job with Atlantic Refining Co.”

Years later — after other jobs in petroleum engineering — “I took over operations for Newmont, then the third-largest oil company in New Mexico. After 10 years with Newmont, I became a consulting engineer. I worked until I was 96 years old,” Chuck said.

Over the years, the other veterans honored by David Petroleum are:

Thomas J. Owen

The previous veteran honored by David Petroleum was Retired Lt. Gen. Thomas J. Owen, a Roswell native whose military career included high Air Force command positions.

Before retiring from the Air Force in 2012, Owen was commander of the Aeronautical Systems Center at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, Ohio.

As Center commander and program executive officer for aircraft procurement and modernization, he led the Air Force’s center of excellence for development and acquisition of aeronautical systems.

After retiring from the Air Force, Owen served as executive vice president of Dayton Aerospace. He later joined Lockheed Martin Aeronautics Co. as vice president of sustainment strategies.

Owen holds a bachelor’s degree in Organizational Behavior from the Air Force Academy, a master’s degree in Political Science from Troy University, and a master’s degree in National Security Strategy from the National Defense University.

His military awards include the Distinguished Service Medal with oak leaf cluster, the Legion of Merit with oak leaf cluster, and the Meritorious Service Medal with a silver oak leaf cluster.

He was honored in March 2018 as Patriot III by David Petroleum.

Scott Lilley

In December 2011, Retired Staff Sgt. Scott Lilley was honored as Patriot II.

Lilley, raised in Roswell, joined the Air Force in October 1999. He was assigned to Holloman Air Force Base, Spangdahlem Air Force Base in Germany, and Minot Air Force Base in North Dakota before being deployed to Afghanistan.

He then was deployed to Camp Liberty, Iraq.

On April 15, 2007 — five months into his Iraq tour — Lilley suffered major head trauma in a roadside bomb explosion.

After recovering from his wounds, Lilley was assigned to Lackland Air Force Base, Texas, as a security force instructor until his medical retirement in December 2010.

Jack Swickard

Patriot I, honored in 2009, was Vietnam helicopter pilot Jack Swickard.

Swickard, whose father was a military officer, lived in the Philippine Islands and on the outskirts of London while growing up.

He enlisted in the Army in 1965 and was commissioned a warrant officer aviator after completing flight school at Fort Wolters, Texas, and Fort Rucker, Ala.

In February 1967, Swickard was assigned to the 118th Assault Helicopter Company at Bien Hoa Airfield, South Vietnam.

Three months later, in May 1967, he and the pilot of another UH-1D “Huey” helicopter rescued more than 120 South Vietnamese troops from an ambush by 600-700 enemy soldiers. To rescue the troops, the pilots chopped their way to the ground through branches with their rotor blades. They flew into the rescue landing zone 5 times under heavy enemy fire.

After returning from Vietnam in 1968, Swickard was assigned as adjutant of the 55th Aviation Battalion at Fort Hood, Texas.

His combat awards include the Distinguished Flying Cross with 1 oak leaf cluster, the Bronze Star Medal, the Air Medal with 22 oak leaf clusters, and the Vietnam Cross of Gallantry.

He moved to Chaves County in 1974 as editor of the Roswell Daily Record.

In 2000, Swickard founded The Triton Group, a public relations company specializing in international police consulting.

N.M. documentary nominated for Emmy

      A documentary on a New Mexico family’s loss which led to the first major Vietnam veterans’ memorial is a finalist for a regional Emmy Award.

      The documentary tells the story of Victor “Doc” and Jeanne Westphall who took their son’s GI life insurance and began building the memorial overlooking Angel Fire, N.M.

Vietnam Veterans Memorial (Jim Goss photo)

      The son, Marine 1st Lt. Victor David Westphall III, was killed in battle on May 28, 1968, near Con Thien, South Vietnam.

      On This Hallowed Ground: Vietnam Memorial Born From Tragedy is one of three nominees for an Historical Documentary Emmy, which will be presented Sept. 19 by the National Academy of Television Arts and Sciences’ Rocky Mountain Southwest Chapter.

      Sarah Kanafani of Albuquerque is the documentary’s producer and director. Kanafani owns Luminance Pictures, which has been producing documentaries and promotion videos for major national and New Mexico companies and institutions for years.

      On This Hallowed Ground already has won:

• Two Telly Awards for Best Documentary in Online Media and Best Editing in Non-Broadcast. Telly Awards honor excellence in video and television across all screens.

• The 2020 REMI Award from WorldFest-Houston International Film Festival.

CLICK TO VIEW DOCUMENTARY

      On This Hallowed Ground was two years in the making, beginning when the David Westphall Veterans Foundation asked Kanafani to produce a short video to show at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, which has been operated by the state Department of Veterans Services since July 1, 2017.

      Kanafani was contacted by the Westphall Foundation when the Memorial’s Huey helicopter was transported to Roswell to be refurbished, repainted, and restored to its Vietnam War appearance. Transportation and restoration costs were donated by state agencies, private companies and their employees.

      As Luminance Pictures worked on the short video, Kanafani sensed a much larger story was waiting to be documented.

      She began scheduling interviews with Westphall Foundation board members and Vietnam War veterans. Two of the veterans had been Huey pilots during the war.

      In the interests of full disclosure, I should explain I was one of the pilots interviewed. I have served on the Foundation board for years and I flew the Memorial’s Huey on combat missions in 1967 when it was assigned to the 118th Assault Helicopter Company at Bien Hoa, South Vietnam.

Ron Milam narrating documentary

      The other pilot interviewed in the documentary was my good friend Tom Baca of Albuquerque, who also served in the 118th AHC before transferring to the II Field Force flight detachment. Tom could not recall flying the Memorial’s Huey, but he had an encyclopedic memory of flying combat missions.

      Tom and I described our experiences flying Hueys in combat.

      Early this past Sunday, Tom died in an Albuquerque hospital after battling cancer for months. Tom welcomed the opportunity to be a part of the documentary. He told me many times over the years how peaceful and refreshed he felt whenever he visited the Memorial.

      Other Westphall board members with speaking parts in On This Hallowed Ground are Chuck Howe, president; Chuck Hasford, treasurer; Richard “Dick” Dickerson, secretary; Walter Westphall, son of Doc and Jeanne Westphall and brother of David Westphall; and Ron Milam. All are military veterans, most having served in the Vietnam War.

Victor Westphall

      Milam is the documentary’s commentator, who explains the war’s impact on the U.S. society and Jeanne and Victor Westphall’s lifetime roles in building the memorial. He is associate professor of history at Texas Tech University in Lubbock and was an infantry advisor to Montagnard forces during the Vietnam War.

      Kanafani said of the documentary’s nomination: “We are honored this important film has led to our first Emmy Award nomination. My wish is this nomination furthers the exposure of such an incredible story of bravery, loss, and healing.

      “The contribution Doc Westphall and his wife made to the soldiers, fallen and living, their families and to our nation is like no other. Grappling with the heartache of war and the pain of losing a son or daughter in war is never easy. But for this man, he went a step further and built a chapel of healing to honor the dead on both sides, uniting us all in peace and brotherhood.

Chuck Howe in documentary scene

      “It was an honor to work on such an important story and my hope is the knowledge of this chapel and the family behind it will spread and will find its place in the hearts of many.”

      The Memorial originally was named the Vietnam Veterans Peace and Brotherhood Chapel, dedicated to the memory of David Westphall and the other 16 Marines who died with him at Con Thien in 1968.

      The chapel was dedicated on the third anniversary of David Westphall’s death, on May 22, 1971. It was the first major Vietnam veterans memorial in the United States and inspired the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington, D.C., which was completed in 1982.

      Over the years, the Memorial has been operated by the Disabled American Veterans, the Westphall Foundation, New Mexico State Parks, and the New Mexico Department of Veterans Services.

      The Memorial includes the Chapel, an adjacent Visitors Center, a Gift Shop, a Veterans Memorial Walkway, an amphitheater, a Memorial Garden, and the gravesite of Jeanne and Victor Westphall. More than 45,000 people visit the Memorial each year.

Friendship strong for 53 years

      When my cell phone rang Sunday morning my stomach felt like it dropped three feet. Tom Horan’s name was on caller ID.

      Tom told me our close friend, Tom Baca, had died early that morning. Though Tom Baca had been doing well when I visited with him on FaceTime several weeks earlier, I knew Tom Horan was calling to tell me he had died.

      The two Toms had known each other since grade school. Years later, Army Warrant Officer Tom Baca had given Army Lt. Tom Horan his first orientation ride in a helicopter.

      Tom Horan went on to become a scout helicopter pilot in South Vietnam.

      That’s where Tom Baca and I met — in Vietnam, under unique circumstances stemming from a misunderstanding.

      Before I joined the Army, I had worked as a reporter for The Albuquerque Tribune. One of the television reporters covering the news with me on the Albuquerque police beat in 1965 was Jim Baca.

      Later that year I enlisted in the Army. After basic training and helicopter flight school, I flew to South Vietnam.

Tom Baca in Huey cockpit in South Vietnam in 1966.

      After signing in at the 118th Assault Helicopter Company I went to the officers’ club. I was surprised to see a familiar face at one of the tables.

      “Jim, what are you doing here?” I asked.

      “I’m not Jim. He’s my twin brother,” came the reply. “I’m Tom Baca.”

      This began a close friendship, beginning in February 1967 and lasting until Sunday, Aug. 30, 2020.

      Over this 53-year friendship, Tom and I drank martinis together in London, Saigon, Hanoi, Shanghai, Dallas, Atlanta, Washington, Charlotte, and many other cities. Tom enjoyed martinis with friends; I enjoyed martinis with Tom.

      We were alike in many ways. Like Tom, I had a twin brother. We bought our first hybrid cars within days of each other. We were hooked on high-tech gadgets.

      Tom and I had our differences, too, mainly political. We adopted a simple rule: Never discuss politics.

      In a lounge at the Hotel Caravelle Saigon in 2008, the wife of a mutual friend started attacking a president whom I liked. Tom immediately shut down the criticism. “Jack and I have a rule, we don’t discuss politics. I’d appreciate it if you would honor this,” he told her. She did.

      It was Tom who coaxed me into returning to Vietnam 40 years after I returned from my combat tour in 1967-68. I had planned to go someday, but kept putting it off.

      However, Richard Max, director of a planned documentary about a rescue mission Tom and I flew with our aircrews in May 1967, came to Tom’s home for an initial visit with us. Tom told Richard he planned to visit southern Vietnam in October 2008.

      “You should come, too,” Tom told me.

      I agreed and Richard said it would be a good opportunity to get footage of us in the landing zone where we had pulled off the rescue.

Tom and Dinh Ngoc Truc during documentary
filming near Tay Ninh City in 2008.

      The filming went great. Richard and his colleagues at Windfall Films had to work over the holidays to put the documentary together in time for its television debut, but they were finished in time for a special screening in January 2009. Tom, his copilot Larry Liss, me, and our wives traveled to London for the screening.

      The government advisor to the Windfall Films crew was a former member of the People’s Army — known to GIs as the North Vietnam Army. Dinh Ngoc Truc, who worked for the Ministry of Culture and Information, turned out to be a really great guy.

      He became a close friend, and would stay with Tom in Albuquerque and me in Roswell on trips to the United States. His wife Phuong joined him on one trip, and taught Jan Baca and Renee Swickard the fine points of Vietnamese cooking.

      Over the years Tom, Truc, and I would organize trips to Vietnam, taking along other veterans of the war. It was great therapy for anyone with a lingering sense of uneasiness about their war years.

      Tom was unfailingly kind. He had been stricken with multiple sclerosis, but was able to keep it at bay. Tom told me many times, “if you know someone with MS, tell them I can come and visit them. I can tell them it’s not the end of the world.”

      At lunch one day in an Albuquerque restaurant I saw Tom call over the waitress and point to two police officers at another table. “Give me their bill. I want to pay for their lunch.”

      This was typical of Tom.

      Another time a friend, retired Lt. Gen. Richard T. Knowles, died. Dick had gone to Vietnam as deputy commander of the 1st Cavalry Division and many years later settled in Roswell, where he became my state representative in the New Mexico Legislature.

      Dick’s son called me and asked if I would like to sort through his papers, plaques, and trophies. I called Tom. “I have a job for you. Can you help me sort through Dick Knowles’ memorabilia?”

      Tom was at my home the next day.

      We spent two days sorting the memorabilia into separate boxes to present to military museums around the United States. Then we took a road trip and donated them.

      Most of the items went to The Vietnam Center & Sam Johnson Vietnam Archive at Texas Tech University. It’s the second-largest Vietnam War archive in the United States, behind the National Archives.

      Tom was liked by everyone he met because he was so comfortable to be around.

      I’ll really miss Tom.

Tom Baca makes home in the sky

      Major Thomas Delfin Baca was a man to whom gravity meant nothing. From joining the Army at age 17 to fly helicopters, to his lifelong career as a pilot, to his six-month battle with cancer, nothing could keep him down. He knew he belonged in the sky and on August 30th, 2020, early in the morning, he decided to make that his home.

      Tom was born September 6th, 1945, in Albuquerque, New Mexico to Fermin and Dixie Baca (Sapp) as part of a matching set with his twin brother Jim Baca, and they became beloved little brothers to Maria Carlota Baca of Santa Fe.

Tom Baca 

      Tom is survived by his wife of 51 years, Janet Baca of Albuquerque, daughters Sara Reeves (Jason Reeves) of Hamilton, Montana, and Stephanie Baca of Los Angeles, California, as well as 4 grandchildren Kelly Brion (Grant Brion) of Hamilton, Montana, Kevin Reeves of Bozeman, Montana, Emma Schmidt and Maya Schmidt, both of Los Angeles, California, his twin brother, Jim Baca (Bobbi Baca) of Albuquerque, New Mexico, and his big sister Dr Maria Carlota Baca of Santa Fe, New Mexico, as well as many beloved nieces and nephews.

      Tom joined the Army one week out of high school and went on to define heroism in a daring rescue on the Ho Chi Minh Trail in Vietnam. He served as an enlisted aircraft mechanic for 18 months and was appointed Warrant Officer on completion of U.S. Army Flight School.

      During his first tour of duty in Vietnam Tom engineered an epic rescue mission by saving over 100 surrounded soldiers who were pinned down in a bamboo forest. He used his Huey helicopter's rotors to slash a landing zone in order to rescue the men, flying into heavy enemy fire six times to complete the mission.

      This rescue was later the subject of a documentary produced by a British film company for the National Geographic and Smithsonian Channels in America. The one-hour show was called, “Helicopter Wars: Vietnam Firefight.”

Tom Baca (second from left) and crew of UH-1H Huey
helicopter shot down in Vietnam in 1966 early in Tom's
first combat tour.

      He received a direct commission as a regular officer during his second tour in Vietnam. He is a decorated Army helicopter and fixed-wing pilot and had flown as an Air Transport Rated commercial pilot from 1983-2003. For his heroic efforts during his two tours during the Vietnam War, he was awarded the Soldier’s Medal, Distinguished Flying Cross, Bronze Star, and 38 Air Medals. He has over 10,000 hours of flight time in many types of aircraft.

      He was a graduate of the University of Southern Colorado, and served as Aviation Director, the New Mexico Department of Transportation from July 2004 to his retirement in October 2009.

      He was highly active in his community and is responsible for grants to the 59 federally funded airports in New Mexico. He is remembered for his passion for life, family, travel, and for country. He believed in equality for all, truth, honesty, and fairness. He will live on in the hearts and minds of the many lives he touched.

      In lieu of flowers, the family asks that you make a donation in Tom’s name to one of the following charities: The David Westphall Veterans Foundation at www.vietnamveteransmemorial.org/ways-to-give/ or to the National Wildlife Federation at support.nwf.org

      Interment will take place at Angel Fire Veterans Cemetery.

—   The Thomas Baca Family

Friendship with military legend

ROSWELL, New Mexico — Dick Knowles moved to Roswell around the time I became editor of the Roswell Daily Record in the summer of 1974.

I knew little about Dick, aside from friends describing him as a retired general who had opened an antique shop. “Guess what he named it?” they would ask. Before I had a chance to guess, they would blurt out: “The General’s Store.”

I began to know Dick after a group of Republicans asked him to run for election to the New Mexico Legislature. Dick agreed to seek office. As editor of the local newspaper, I would see him frequently. First, he came by the newsroom to be interviewed and have his photograph — or mugshot — taken. I would see him at political rallies and parties, giving speeches and shaking hands.

Lt. Gen. Richard T. Knowles

He and I also joined the same Rotary club, so each Thursday we joined some 150 other people for lunch.

Dick stood out in a crowd. He was 6-foot-4. He also was very soft-spoken. I noticed Dick was a good listener and I could tell he weighed what he was told. When people talked to him, they had his attention. I’m sure this helped him win the seat in the state House of Representatives.

He did well in the Legislature, earning the trust and respect of fellow lawmakers on both sides of the aisle. Dick had served in enough military staff and command positions to know there were multiple sides to any issue.

Dick rose high in the Legislature for a minority member, eventually becoming House minority leader. He treated each colleague the way they treated him and his wife, Betty Kay. Once, after he had voted for the election of Democrat Raymond Sanchez as speaker of the House, I asked him why he had supported Sanchez over the more conservative candidate. Dick’s reply made excellent sense. “The other guy was rude to my wife. Raymond has always been a gentleman to her.”

Raymond also was a shoe-in for House speaker. He never forgot Dick’s support and valued Dick’s friendship. If Dick Knowles got behind an issue, he generally received as much support from House Democrats as members of his own party.

Dick also told me on several occasions a legislative body existed by compromise. This did not set well with a group of partisan Republicans from his hometown and his legislative district. They wanted a barroom brawler in the State Capitol, not a statesman. So members of this group began looking for someone to run against Dick in the next Republican primary election.

After 16 years in the state Legislature, Dick decided against seeking re-election. Though he never said so within earshot of me, I think he was unhappy with the prospect of running in a campaign holding the promise of mudslinging. Dick believed in the political process and did not want to see it denigrated by a nasty campaign.

Over the years I would visit with Dick about his time in the Army. Both of us had been helicopter pilots in the Vietnam War, so we had a common topic we could discuss. Our reminiscing sometimes would lead to other stories about military experiences. Gradually, I learned more about Dick’s background.

One story he enjoyed telling me was how, earlier in his career, he had saved Camp Wolters from being closed. Dick, of course, knew I had trained at the U.S. Army Primary Helicopter Center at Fort Wolters. This was where all Army rotary-wing aviators received their initial flight training during the Vietnam War.

Dick Knowles and wife Betty Kay

Dick shared other stories with me. Slowly I was learning the major role he played in developing the helicopter’s role in combat.

In the late 1980s, I learned even more from another source. During a Vietnam Helicopter Pilots Association reunion in Fort Worth, the former pilots and their wives were bused to Fort Wolters to look around and eat lunch. Helping give the welcome was retired Lieutenant General Harold “Hal” Moore. I did not know anything about Hal Moore at the time and thought he might be Colonel Howard Moore, who had commanded the 145th Combat Aviation Battalion, to which my unit — the 118th Assault Helicopter Company — was assigned.

After Hal Moore’s welcome address, I approached the stage, introduced myself, mentioned my hometown of Roswell, New Mexico, and asked if he had commanded the 145th. “No,” he replied, then asked: “Do you know Dick Knowles?” When I said I did, Moore told me what a great commander Dick had been when they served together in the 1st Air Cavalry Division.

“Please give him my regards,” Moore said as I walked away.

Hal Moore and former United Press International reporter Joe Galloway later would co-author the book “We Were Soldiers Once and Young” about the Battle of Ia Drang Valley, the major engagement between the 1st Cavalry Division and the North Vietnam Army. Moore had commanded the ground forces in the battle; Galloway stayed with the 1st Cavalry throughout the fighting, covering the battle for UPI.

Later the book would become a major Hollywood film, with the titled shortened slightly to: “We Were Soldiers Once.”

I met Hal Moore again and Joe Galloway, as well, when they came to Roswell on separate occasions to speak before the New Mexico Military Institute cadets. Each time they would renew their friendship with Dick Knowles.

Once, when I visited with Dick about the battle, he told me he had selected the initial landing zone used by Hal Moore and his troops.

When the Roswell Rotary Club and NMMI honored Dick for his achievements in the Legislature, I offered to produce a video. I worked closely with Dick on the project. He would bring me photographs of his past. Then we would work on the dialogue for the video.

The guy who had represented me for years in Santa Fe during legislative sessions, my fellow Rotarian, the former aviator who had swapped war stories with me was a major player in what led to the most eventful year of my life — flying helicopters in combat during the Vietnam War.

On September 18, Dick died, preceded in death 10 months earlier by Betty Kay.

Dick’s son Richard called me several days after to ask if I had photos of his father for use at a memorial service planned for September 26 at New Mexico Military Institute. I attended the service.

Dick and his dog Sarge in Roswell

The next day, Richard sent me a note saying he had found his father’s slides from the Vietnam War while he and his sisters were cleaning up Dick’s home. “Would I like them?” Richard asked me to call the following morning so we could get together and he would give me the boxes of slides.

I called the next day. “Can you come to the house right away?” Richard asked. “I’ll be there in 5 minutes,” I told him.

As Dick’s home, Richard led me to the office. Richard told me to take anything I would like. With the offer of the slides, I had decided to offer them to the Vietnam War Center and Archives at Texas Tech University in Lubbock. Now there was a great deal more of Dick’s career and life. Eight boxes more.

Later that day I called my friend and fellow chopper pilot Tom Baca in Albuquerque. “I have a job for you and I know you will love it,” I told Tom, and then explained I had boxes of photographs, records and memorabilia that belonged to Dick Knowles.

“I can think of 5 or 6 museums, as well as the Vietnam War Archives at Texas Tech, that would be interested,” I told Tom. He said he would drive to Roswell on Monday and help me sort through the materials.

Then I sent an email note to Joe Galloway and members of the David Westphall Board of Directors, who oversee support for the Vietnam Veterans Memorial and Chapel at Angel Fire, New Mexico. One of the directors is Ron Milam, associate professor of history at Texas Tech and a Fulbright Fellow who taught in Vietnam and China. Ron served as a Marine in Vietnam during the war. I also serve on the Westphall Foundation board, so I knew there was a place at the Memorial for some of the items.

Joe wrote back immediately and suggested giving some of the items to the 1st Cavalry Museum at Fort Hood, Texas. Good suggestion.

After Tom arrived at my home last Monday, we began dividing Dick’s keepsakes up among 7 museums and archives. As I had promised, Tom enjoyed the work. I did, as well. We were learning of Dick’s roles at the center of the helicopter war in Vietnam.

We found one document on pink, onionskin paper of particular interest. It was Dick’s invitation to a 1965 briefing on lessons learned from the 11th Air Assault Division. Colonel Dick Knowles headed division artillery.

As Task Force Oregon commander

Later, these lessons would be put into practice after the 11th Air Assault Division became the 1st Air Cavalry Division, which then deployed to South Vietnam with Dick Knowles as its assistant commander.

Tom and I would term the document the birth certificate of the airmobile concept introduced during the Vietnam War.

There was much more, from photographs of General William C. Westmoreland pinning general’s stars on Dick Knowles' uniform to a newspaper article about Dick being shot down while piloting his helicopter.

Paperwork and certificates showed Dick at various points in his military career: Attending the artillery officer career course during World War II, his graduation certificate from the War College at Carlisle Barracks, Pennsylvania, a report on receiving the Silver Star Medal during the Korean War, books of photographs taken when he served as chief of staff at II Field Force Vietnam, commanding general of Task Force Oregon (Americal Division) and commander of the 196th Light Infantry Brigade.

Later he would command I Corps in South Korea and then serve as deputy commander of the 8th U.S. Army. A year after beginning that assignment, Dick would retire from the Army and move to Roswell, New Mexico.

The Forgotten Mission — Chapter 46

CAU SONG BE, Vietnam — At the time, each of us saw and heard only a part of the mission.

It was 41 years before I learned Tom Baca and Larry Liss had landed at Cau Song Be Special Forces Camp before me. On the few occasions Tom and I discussed the rescue over the years, he referred several times to landing first. I knew this wasn’t the case. I clearly remembered Tom and Larry landing behind my Huey just before we began the extraction of the CIDG company.

I didn’t consider it important, so I never corrected Tom. Then, one day, I did. We were discussing our upcoming meeting with Richard Max and Bernadette Ross of Windfall Films. Tom again mentioned landing first. Richard and Bernie were about to interview us for the documentary so I thought it important to set the record straight.

“Tom, I clearly remember you landing behind me on the airstrip,” I said.

Driving to site of 1967 extraction 41 years later.

“We landed behind you after dropping off wounded at the camp hospital. Larry and I did a medevac before you arrived,” Tom said.

Clarity exploded in my mind. I recalled something about a medevac, but I had always thought Tom was describing one of the five times we each flew into the landing zone to extract the South Vietnamese CIDG soldiers and U.S. advisors.

A year later in Ho Chi Minh City — the official name given to Saigon after reunification — Al Croteau told me how he had agonized for 42 years about “leaving someone behind.”

“Wait, Al. What are you talking about? We didn’t leave anyone behind,” I told him.

Seated at a café table over lunch, Al described seeing a lone CIDG soldier in a circular firing pit each time we left with our helicopter loaded with his compatriots.

I was stunned. I had never heard this before. How could I have left someone behind? What could I have done to get that last man out? What happened to him after we left that last time?

To Al’s great relief, we would learn several days later Tom and Larry had picked up this lone soldier on their final trip out of the landing zone.

These and other recollections showed me how segmented each of our roles had been during the extraction of the CIDG soldiers. Each crewmember was focused on what he needed to do to survive and get the soldiers to safety. We didn’t allow ourselves the luxury of distraction. Had we done so, our minds might have been overpowered by the battle raging around us.

I remember looking around after our first landing to see how many CIDG soldiers had boarded my Huey. When I saw people being shot in the back of the helicopter I turned back around and began monitoring the instruments. My job was to fly the soldiers out of the battle. I couldn’t risk becoming rattled by the sight of the dead and wounded.

*****

That day — May 14, 1967 — we were able to fly 102 CIDG soldiers and a U.S. Special Forces advisor to safety. Of these, 15 South Vietnamese soldiers and the Special Forces non-commissioned officer were wounded in the battle.

The dead included 2 Special Forces NCOs and 5 CIDG soldiers.

Before the extraction, Tom and Larry airlifted 6 wounded CIDG troops out of the battle on a medical evacuation flight.

Captain Wallace “Wally” Johnson, A Team commander at Cau Song Be, reported that during the firefight, 5 or 6 CIDG soldiers who “got separated during a firefight walked back into camp” the next day. He said the CIDG companies averaged 120-125 soldiers.

Over the years, I thought more of the soldiers had been killed. I’m glad the number was lower. We extracted them shortly after the ambush was sprung and the fighting began, which probably contributed to the relatively low number of troops killed in action.

*****

The crews of the 2 helicopters were unique for the mission we ended up flying.

Tom Baca and Larry Liss had never flown together before May 14. The two pilots did not even know each other until that day.

On the other hand, Tom and I knew each other, though we were flying in different units. Furthermore, I had known Tom’s brother before joining the Army.

My copilot, Ken Dolan, had only been flying in Vietnam about a month; I had been in-country 3 months. Tom only had 12 days left on his combat tour on May 14.

Al Croteau was substituting for the regular doorgunner that day, having volunteered the evening before to fly the mission with Ken and me.

Our 2 Hueys arrived at Cau Song Be on different missions. Tom and Larry were flying a Roman Catholic chaplain to various Special Forces camps in the III Corps; Ken, Al and I were carrying the Special Forces paymaster.

*****

I returned to Cau Song Be on November 21, 2010. The Special Forces camp was long gone. It did not survive the war in Southeast Asia. I would never have found the camp’s site had it not been for my Vietnamese guides — one a former Vet Cong soldier and the other a retired North Vietnam Army officer.

Tom Baca had found a map showing Chi Linh — the name given to Cau Song Be to avoid confusing it with the nearby provincial capital of Song Be — on Highway 14, between its junction with Highway 13 and Dong Xoai to the east. Highway 13 runs due north from Ho Chi Minh City. Our map was rough and gave a general location for Chi Linh.

I rode with my guides, Tran Van Thanh and Dinh Ngoc Truc, in a small, sport utility vehicle from Ho Chi Minh City to Chon Thanh, where we turned east on Highway 14. The map showed Chi Linh near the third bridge we would cross. We soon saw not all the Highway 14 bridges were marked on Tom’s map.

Our driver, Nguyen Tuan Nghia, stopped at various points along the highway so Thanh and Truc could ask local residents about a military camp that existed more than 40 years earlier. One resident told of a military cemetery farther down the highway.

We arrived at a large, stone bridge over the Song Be River about 15 kilometers east of Chon Thanh. This looked like the third bridge on our map. After crossing the bridge — or cau — we stopped in the small village of Nha Bich. Thanh, a retired NVA colonel, and Truc, who had served in the Viet Cong, began visiting with people in the village.

Ken, Thanh, Jack and Truc at camp site.

Thanh pointed out a rustic, outdoor restaurant where we could sit and compare notes. He ordered a glass of fresh coconut milk for himself; Ken Fritz, a friend from the Vietnam Helicopter Pilots Association; and me. Soon Truc and Nghia joined us. A villager had recalled hearing of the military camp many years before.

We got back in the SUV, drove back across the bridge and turned north onto a dirt road. After encountering a dead end, we found another dirt road that went north. We passed a group of men holding flowers at a house being constructed. After driving a short distance past the group, we stopped. Thanh and I walked forward to a short cliff that overlooked the Song be Rubber Plantation. In the distance, I saw a familiar sight: Tall rubber trees in a line reminiscent of the trees that grew along the Cau Song Be airstrip. Could this be the former Special Forces camp?

As Thanh and I walked back to the SUV to visit with the others, I heard a conversation in Vietnamese and laughter. Truc and Ken had stopped to visit with the men at the house being built. Ken climbed aboard one of their motorcycles, gunned the engine, and took off down the road. He returned minutes later in a cloud of dust. The Vietnamese men had not expected the American to ride the motorcycle and they were enjoying the sight.

Ken and Truc told me they would ride several kilometers on Highway 14 with the Vietnamese men to a turnoff to the old military camp. The men had told Truc they had visited the old camp and knew its location. Nghia, Thanh and I followed the motorcyclists. Truc sat on one bike, facing backwards to film Ken riding down the highway.

When the motorcycles stopped, Ken and Truc dismounted to handshakes and laughter, then they boarded the SUV. We turned north onto another dirt road and drove a short distance. To our left was the site of the former Special Forces camp and CIDG base.

A farmer lived nearby. I asked Truc if the man might remember the camp or know someone in the area who did. “He’s a newcomer,” said Truc, who already had visited with him.

I had hoped to find a one of the CIDG soldiers extracted on May 14, 1967. That would not be the case. The camp was a settlement dedicated to war. After the fighting ended, it had no reason to exist and the soldiers stationed there had no reason to stay.

Only rubber trees — standing in formation as they did in 1967 — remain today.