Vietnam Photo Gallery | Rock 'N' Roll Soldier

My Tent

Tue, 16 Jun 2009 14:20:38 -0400

Here's where I lived with the rest of Three Squad, before we finished the barracks. To the right is my bunk, shrouded in Army green netting to keep the monster mosquitos out. My guitar case is leaning on a cabinet I put together from old ammo crates. The metal thing at the top is an amplifier I made so I could practice guitar in my rack. Lockable food storage is down below. The cans with the red-and-white diamonds are Coca Cola. You can also see a jar of Tang, because the water in Nam was so darn awful. Mom would send me all sorts of good stuff from "the world" – food, music magazines. It was hard not to get homesick.

In the frame on the floor are pictures of my girlfriend back in the States, my mom, and my cat, Patrick. That little bottle to the left of the frame is either GI bug juice or LSA, Lubricant Small Arms, which we used all the time to keep our rifles in top working order.

Heading Home

Tue, 16 Jun 2009 13:41:18 -0400

The view from the airplane window leaving Vietnam.

It had been a long, difficult year. I was still me, but totally not.

And what would I do now?

An Khe Pass

Tue, 16 Jun 2009 11:41:55 -0400

Here's the entrance to An Khe Pass, a particularly dangerous stretch of Highway 19 that cut through taller and taller mountains on the way to Pleiku. Look at all those potential VC hiding places. And steep mountain-face on one side of the road, sheer drop on the other side – if you did run into trouble, where could you go? Nowhere but down.

The scenery didn't help matters much either...

The Highway

Tue, 16 Jun 2009 11:23:10 -0400

We loaded all of our equipment into a truck, piled in, and hit QL 19 for Pleiku. Prime ambush sites were everywhere, especially as we travelled higher up into the mountains. The tall grass at the side of the road, the thick shrub, the tree-covered ridges – all were perfect places to snipe, lob grenades, or launch mortars from. In our hefty vehicle, we felt like a sitting duck – and very, very alone. We were nervous and jumpy from the moment we hit the highway.

The debris on the side of the road left by earlier run-ins with the VC didn't help our spirits much either. At the Hairpin, we were startled by a pillar of armored jeeps. Thank God they were friendlies. They gave us an escort, two jeeps in front, two behind. Here's one of them – that's an M60 machine gun mounted in the back.

Man, were we grateful...

TDY

Tue, 16 Jun 2009 10:32:03 -0400

For months we'd been hearing about how hairy it was getting about a hundred miles inland from Qui Nhon, toward An Khe and Pleiku, the mountainous highlands, the front lines. Blown bridges, ambushes, land mines, rockets, grenades, snipers, near misses, direct hits – night and day, day in and day out – especially on QL One-Niner, the main highway from Qui Nhon to Pleiku.

So it stunned us when Leadbetter practically volunteered our band to go play for the troops in Pleiku. We were scared you-know-what-less to head up there. But as the 127th was drinking beer under striped umbrellas at our company nightclub, there were hundreds of soldiers dodging the Cong in Pleiku – remote, isolated, in the heat of it, the real thing. How could we not go?

I suggested a helicopter transport, hoping to bypass the treacherous highway. Leadbetter agreed. The TDY – Temporary Duty – papers were cut, and we were officially on our way to Pleiku. But there was a slight change of plans...

Lynda

Sat, 13 Jun 2009 07:20:10 -0400

Lynda owned the local, um, steak house in downtown Qui Nhon. She was at that MACV audition gig, though I didn't see her there. At the MACV show, one of her friends brought me a note asking me to come see her sometime. Back at the barracks, the guys teased me relentlessly about it. Finally, I decided to go see what the Lyndabar was all about...

Band Bookings

Sat, 13 Jun 2009 06:58:41 -0400

Soon we were performing all over the place for hundreds of soldiers. Leadbetter allowed it only on a few conditions. First, we could never miss a patrol; we could only perform on our own time. Second, we had to travel straight to the gigs in the Army vehicle he lent us – no stops, no detours. We couldn't take weapons of any kind with us. And we had to wear our fatigues on the way to shows, then change into our band clothes at the gig.

We tried to follow Leadbetter's rules – we knew he'd put an instant stop to the band if we didn't – but there were a few times... Well, you can read all about that in the book.

MACV Audition

Sat, 13 Jun 2009 06:35:45 -0400

After our show for the 127th, I made a special visit to the officer in charge of morale, welfare, and recreation at MACV, Military Assistance Command, Vietnam, the big guns. To my utter surprise, he offered us all the gigs we could possibly play – and for money! The catch? We had to audition for the MACV officers first...

Playing for the 127th

Wed, 10 Jun 2009 18:17:21 -0400

Here we are as the Swingin' Banana at the Longbranch Saloon, the 127th's "nightclub," performing for our company. Look closely and you'll see our homemade mike stands – mine's bamboo and duct tape, Jessen's is a bit of bent re-bar sunk into a scrap of 4x4 on top of the Farfisa organ.

Our first gig for the 127th didn't go over as well as I'd hoped. Thinking back now, I'm glad it didn't. If it had, we might never have played anywhere else, for soldiers who really needed it...

Band Practice

Wed, 10 Jun 2009 17:06:01 -0400

Our buddy Jake Sanino volunteered the company's supply tent for practice. We ran an extension cord out to the generator that Leadbetter'd "appropriated" for Dodge City and we had plenty of juice for all of the amps, plus my jerry-rigged PA system. When Sugden, Ioli, Jessen, and I weren't out on patrol, sleeping, or in the mess hall for chow, we were back at the supply tent, practicing.

That's Jessen, keyboards, with his tongue hanging out – point a camera his way and you'd always get a reaction. Sug's behind him on bass.

My Calendar

Wed, 10 Jun 2009 16:49:59 -0400

I kept a pocket calendar by my rack. Every evening before lights out, I'd cross off another day. It was sort of a ritual for me. The daily countdown helped me keep it together over there.

Guitars

Sun, 07 Jun 2009 09:06:40 -0400

Leadbetter's request was always on my mind, even during prisoner patrol, when we kept watch of injured POWs. We manned guard stations at each corner of the hospital ward, armed with 12-gauge sawed-off shotguns. We weren't messing around. The Vietcong prisoners would sit, sleep, hang out talking to each other in Vietnamese. They never looked us in the eye, their faces were always blank. They gave me the creeps, like they were plotting against us...

Watching the Congs share their secrets, I rolled Captain's idea over and over in my mind. There were so many reasons why it wouldn't work, why it couldn't work. I wondered why I had even agreed to it in the first place. No instruments. No equipment. And that was just for starters. Where would a band practice, in a sandbag bunker? And, sure, we couldn't hide Dodge City from Charlie – it was a safe bet he already knew we were there – but did we really need to advertise our exact location with music?

I was starting to think that maybe Leadbetter was nuts. That I'd made a mistake. That maybe I should tell him it just couldn't be done.

Happy Birthday, January 25, 1967

Sun, 07 Jun 2009 09:04:41 -0400

By the time I turned 20, just a couple of weeks after arriving in Nam, I'd already been fired on by a sniper, witnessed a major ambush that threatened our camp, and seen, up-close and personal, my first dead American soldier, the victim of a sniping outside the PX.

Happy birthday to me...

The First Latrine

Sun, 07 Jun 2009 09:03:25 -0400

I pulled guard duty our first night in Vietnam – just my luck. There in the rain and the black, my partner and I were fired on by a sniper hiding in a nearby rice paddy. Could've been the old papasan we arrested coming out of the water the next morning – or not. In Vietnam, you never could tell who was the enemy.

I was pretty shaken up. Sugden, with his dry sense of humor, tried to get my mind off of it the next day by taking me on a tour of Dodge City, which was already shaping up with all the comforts of home...

Welcome to Dodge City

Sun, 07 Jun 2009 09:01:41 -0400

Front gate entrance to Dodge City, home sweet home to the 127th MP Company in Qui Nhon, South Vietnam.

Christmas Concert, USS Upshur, 1966

Sun, 07 Jun 2009 09:00:26 -0400

Dean Kohler and John Voina. That's Ben Jessen to the left in the background. You can't see it, but he's sitting on top of a big marching band bass drum, keeping time for us. Ioli – that's his shoulder behind me – was playing a snare.

Christmas Concert, USS Upshur, 1966

Sun, 07 Jun 2009 08:57:51 -0400

December 25, 1966, we were still on the Upshur. With Sugden now a full-fledged bass player, and Ioli not a bad drummer, we could’ve actually had ourselves a little ship-board band. Then Captain surprised us. Rolled out some borrowed drums and a microphone held together with duct tape. Like Santa Claus handing out presents. Good ol’ Leadbetter.

So me and Voina played the two guitars. Ioli took the snare. And our pal Ben Jessen sat on top of the marching band bass drum and banged it with a stick. No bass for Sugden, but he was okay. We spent the holiday jamming, an outdoor concert right on deck.

USS Upshur, December 1966

Sun, 07 Jun 2009 08:56:03 -0400

Aboard the USS Upshur, en route to Vietnam with 4,000 of my closest Army pals. City boys. Country boys. From all over the nation – California, Nebraska, Kansas, Alabama, New York. Most fresh out of high school, like me. Class of ’65, hoo-rah. Everybody antsy, sweltering in the heat, crammed below-decks playing cards, writing letters, trading paperbacks, listening to Armed Forces radio.

Farewell Party, December 1966

Sun, 07 Jun 2009 08:54:52 -0400

The night before we shipped out, Captain Leadbetter threw us a going-away party at the local enlisted club. Loaded us all onto trucks and shuttled us over. Right off the bat, I noticed a couple of amplifiers, guitars, and drums set up onstage. I thought we were going to have some music, so I was jazzed. We were all eating our farewell chow, laughing too loud, trying to hide how freaked out we were to be heading to Nam the next morning.

Then Leadbetter called me and Ioli and Voina over to his table. "Head for the stage," he commanded. "You guys are the show. Get up there and entertain."

We looked at him, at one another, our faces one big question mark. It was definitely an order So we climbed onstage. Ioli's dad was a drummer once, he said, so he took the drums. Voina played a little guitar; he'd let me borrow his Stratocaster a few times back at Fort Gordon. He grabbed one of the guitars, I took the other. I wasn't sure how we were going to pull this off...

Basic Training, March 1966

Sun, 07 Jun 2009 08:53:32 -0400

Taken in a photo booth at the PX during basic training. Rock 'n' roll moptop gone with one swipe of the clippers...

Dodge City, January 1967

Sat, 06 Jun 2009 21:29:05 -0400

We landed at Qui Nhon, South Vietnam the morning of January 7, 1967. A storm had moved in overnight, the wind so wild we could hear it whistling through the ship's passageways. The Upshur couldn't dock, so we had to drop – in full pack gear, in the midst of the monsoon – from the ship's deck to smaller troop-carrying vessels bobbing in the waves below. We rolled out onto the muddy shore, then were loaded onto busses with grates over the windows to keep grenades out. They dropped us off in a giant mud field at the base of a mountain covered with shrub and bamboo. We were on our own.

We worked all day, raising tents, laying wooden pallets for floors and sidewalks, filling and stacking sandbags around the bottoms of the tents to deflect enemy fire. By the end of the day, we were dog-tired.

All of us but Capt. Leadbetter...

The Satellites

Sat, 06 Jun 2009 20:32:44 -0400

In 1966, I was performing at least three nights a week at teen clubs and dances with the Satellites, my rock band. I played guitar and sang, even wrote a lot of the songs. Our manager, my Uncle Roy – who taught me to play and gave me my first guitar – took a demo recording of the band to New York City and came back with a record deal.

Uncle Sam took care of the rest...

Bridge, Qui Nhon

Sat, 06 Jun 2009 17:56:53 -0400

We'd been warned that the Vietcong had a thing for bridges. They liked to mess with our supply routes. So responding to enemy ambushes of bridges like this one became a near nightly routine for us. Paddies down low on either side, shrubbery, hillsides – plenty of places for VC to hide and attack from...

Captain Richard A. Leadbetter

Sat, 06 Jun 2009 13:06:34 -0400

Not long after we made camp at Dodge City, Capt. Leadbetter made a special request...