THIS PAGE IS BROUGHT TO YOU
BY DENNIS PANKONIN (DOC)
C. CO. 577th Eng. Bn. 18th Eng.Bde
CONTACT DOC AT DOC
FIRST DAY IN-COUNTRY
<>The first day in country, I was sent by bus to Saigon and filled sandbags. The next day I was ordered to Cam Rahn Bay where I sat in a tent for a couple of days waiting for further orders. The orders came and I flew out on a C130 to some airfield called Dalat, in the Central Highlands. I was picked up by a convoy and rode in the back of a dump truck (no weapon yet!) destination, Don Duong , Headquarters for the 577th Engineers.
<>I made formation the following morning, and was assigned to the aide station where I met Capt. Dr. Pappanek(SP?). While there, I learned further hands-on medical procedures. Things happen pretty quick over there. I got my first taste of death. Two ARVNS were going up the mountain pass in a jeep, and a convoy was coming down, fast. A Deuce and a half met the ARVNS face to face, the jeep lost!
<>Dr. Pappanek took care of one ARVN, and I took care of the other. Both were crushed pretty bad. Drowning in their own blood, we tried feverishly to pump out the excess fluids from their lungs. I turned to Doc to tell him I had lost my patient, he had lost his too. I didn’t like the way my tour was starting, the lesson of the day, “Stuff your feelings”, It’s easier that way.
<>Shortly after, I left Don Duong on a convoy to Duc Trong,for my final duty station, Cco. 577th Engineers. I met the other medics-Burton, Andy and Hippie. I was replacing Hippie, who was rotating back to the world. I was given a choice to pull night duty or sick call in the morning. I chose night duty. Little did I know that our Artillery Unit, the 5/22nd , had a fire mission that night, and I didn’t know incoming from outgoing! I didn’t get any sleep that night.
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<>I settled into a routine of sick call, road duty, and a day off. You never really had a day off , because you would check on the guys in the guard towers; artillery, MACV, local villagers, and do patrols around our base camp.
<>I met a lot of good guys, but hung around with Bob Ward; C.C. Cunningham, Tony Perea, John Woodenlegs, and Pete Kolaskis most of the time. The Bros. I had good times, lots of fun etc. with my close friends, but I also had times as a medic, when the GIs needed someone to rap with about Dear John letters etc. It made me feel good to know I had their trust. That meant a lot to me.
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There were also some very unbelievably painful situations that I experienced. Up close, hands on, in your face, kind of stuff! Man, you would think after all these years, it wouldn’t still feel so raw, but it does. I feel like I’m ready to share some of this with others, rather than keeping it all inside.
<>MACV called into the Aide Station, needing medics. An ARVN soldier had committed suicide, by way of a hand grenade. Unfortunately, he took out quite a few women and children too. Most had concussion trauma; bleeding from the eyes, ears and nose, and multiple shrapnel wounds. I treated one young girl, about twelve I’d guess. She was dressed in white, and had bracelets; necklaces, and earrings of gold. The girl, which I will call, Kim Su, had a small entrance wound in her chest. I worked diligently on her, but she didn’t make it.
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There were many others to work on, but I looked back at her and saw ARVN soldiers trying to strip her little lifeless body of it’s gold. I felt I had to protect her, and I pulled out my 45 and ran off a round in their direction. Burton tried to step in before things got completely out of hand. We finished taking care of the wounded, and later Burton and I received a letter of Commendation from MACV for our service that day. Even that didn’t fill the emptiness I felt. I couldn’t believe what these people(Vietnamese) could do to their own kind!
<>I remember another event that has stuck with me. One night we got rocketed, along with the MACV compound. The next morning while assessing the damage, the MACV Sgt. found a rocket that hadn’t gone off. He came to the orderly room and picked up Lt. Kelly and the Radio Op. Ronnie Everett. They went to the back gate to discharge the rocket, but something went wrong and it went off, injuring all three of them. The MACV Sgt. was in bad shape! massive wounds. Lt Kelly and Ronnie were also hurt pretty bad. While Burton and I patched them up, someone popped smoke for a Dust Off. The Sgt. died in flight, and I never heard if the other guys made it or not. I still think about them.
| Sgt. - MACV
I didn’t know you well, like so many others.
Your wounds, along with your brothers, have
brought your end; and me, pain like no other.
The RPG round that took your life made it hard to determine which wound to be the factor. The numbness sets in and it’s only after, the pain and agony you went through, comes to matter. Shut down is the only way I manage to deal with this disaster. With your passing, you shall leave us to remember your stories, smiles, and laughter. While on your journey, I wish you well. Hopefully at peace ,in the hereafter. Doc |
<>The memory I have had the roughest time with, was of Spec4 Raymond Vaughan. He drove a 290 Earthmover for our unit. I was pulling road duty. It was a muddy, rainy day. The 290 he was driving slid off a narrow bridge he was crossing and went into the river below. He and an ARVN trainee were both killed. I was called to help extract him from the vehicle and take him back to the compound. We loaded him in Johnnie Hudman’s ¾ ton and I rode in the back with Vaughan. When we got to the compound, 1st Sgt. McDermott ordered me to collect Vaughan’s personal effects. I went back out in the rain, and unzipped his body bag. I told him I was sorry for what I would have to do. While I was removing his belongings, I had this thought come over me. “His family doesn’t even know he is gone yet.” Nam was becoming nothing but a total waste of human lives, and this place wasn’t worth a single one of them!
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<>Here I am, thirty odd years later, still trying to deal with the memories. I hope I can share more with you all, but it’s hard to think about, let alone write about. I have written some poems about the experiences I had there. I also write in my journal as a way of expressing the feelings I can’t seem to say out loud. It hasn’t cured me, but then it hasn’t killed me either. If you would like to share your story, send an e-mail to this website, and Cecil will hook you up. If you would like to contact me, feel free. My e-mail address is pancake@ecenet.com, and I always have time for a vet.
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