[ ] An Army Sergeant Mocked an 81-Year-Old Woman Eating Alone in the Dining Hall, Then She Asked Him to Read the Wall Behind Him - Page 5 of 16 - The Archivist

An Army Sergeant Mocked an 81-Year-Old Woman Eating Alone in the Dining Hall, Then She Asked Him to Read the Wall Behind Him

In May of 1969, the Herons were sent up a mountain in the A Shau Valley that the soldiers called Hill 937.

You might have heard of it. History remembers it by a different name.

For ten days, the Herons and the other battalions fought their way up that mountain. Rain. Mud. Bunkers. Machine guns. It was the worst fighting I ever saw come through our doors.

On May 18th, the helicopters started landing at Phu Bai at five in the morning.

They didn’t stop for nineteen hours.

We had six surgeons. We had eleven nurses. We had two hundred and twelve wounded men come through receiving that day.

Forty-one of them were Herons.

At about two in the afternoon, the North Vietnamese started shelling the base. Rockets. They hit the edge of the airfield. Then the motor pool. Then a supply tent about a hundred yards from receiving.

The sirens went off. Everybody was supposed to go to the bunkers.

But there was a medevac helicopter sitting on the landing pad with eight wounded Herons still on it. The crew chief was hit. The pilot was screaming over the noise for somebody to help get them off before the next rocket came in.

I ran out there.

I didn’t think about it. If I’d thought about it, I probably wouldn’t have gone.

Two medics came with me. A big kid from Alabama named Leon and a skinny one from Pittsburgh named Sal.

We pulled eight men off that helicopter and onto stretchers and dragged them across the landing pad to the receiving bunker while the rockets came in.

The last rocket landed about forty feet from us.

A piece of shrapnel went through my left shoulder. I didn’t even feel it until I got the last stretcher through the door. Then I looked down and saw my blouse was red.

I had Leon tape a pressure bandage on it. And I went back to work.

I worked until four in the morning. Nineteen hours straight, with a hole in my shoulder.

Forty-one Herons came through my receiving ward on May 18th, 1969.

All forty-one of them went home alive.

Not one died on my watch.

Not one twenty minutes from help.

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Ethan Blake

Written by:Ethan Blake All posts by the author

Ethan Blake is a skilled Creative Content Specialist with a talent for crafting engaging and thought-provoking narratives. With a strong background in storytelling and digital content creation, Ethan brings a unique perspective to his role at TheArchivists, where he curates and produces captivating content for a global audience. Ethan holds a degree in Communications from Zurich University, where he developed his expertise in storytelling, media strategy, and audience engagement. Known for his ability to blend creativity with analytical precision, he excels at creating content that not only entertains but also connects deeply with readers. At TheArchivists, Ethan specializes in uncovering compelling stories that reflect a wide range of human experiences. His work is celebrated for its authenticity, creativity, and ability to spark meaningful conversations, earning him recognition among peers and readers alike. Passionate about the art of storytelling, Ethan enjoys exploring themes of culture, history, and personal growth, aiming to inspire and inform with every piece he creates. Dedicated to making a lasting impact, Ethan continues to push boundaries in the ever-evolving world of digital content.

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