As a small child, I remember sitting down with my father leafing through a scrapbook of pictures that he had taken in North Africa during WWII. While the scrapbook was sadly lost in a fire, I vividly recall that many photos of his fellow B-26 Martin Marauder pilots and crewmen had crosses inked-in beside them. My dad patiently explained that these brave men had lost their lives in the war and this was his way of honoring their memory.
While he rarely talked about his combat experiences, I do recall him telling me that 60 of the 200 aircraft that had made the trip across the Atlantic to North Africa had been lost at sea due to mechanical failure, lack of fuel or some other non-combat related cause. While my dad passed away many years ago, I still recall his sadness that these brave young men had unnecessarily perished because their equipment was not tested properly.
Now some 60 years later, it is difficult to believe that our men and women serving in Iraq and Afghanistan still don’t have adequate protective gear. When will our military leadership wake-up to insure that our troops have the proper equipment to have a fighting chance to come home alive and in one piece?
Richard W. May
Theartis Watts was an 18-year old rifleman in my Marine infantry platoon in Viet Nam in 1968. He was a big-city kid from Philadelphia with an incredible knack for finding delicious Vietnamese fruits and vegetables to augment our C-rations, and he had one of the most brilliant smiles I’ve ever seen. When he smiled, which was often and in the most dire circumstances, his entire face lit up. Theartis won a Bronze Star with Combat “V” for conspicuous gallantry on April 13, 1968 in a nasty firefight a few kilometers east of Hue City. When my platoon sergeant and his radioman were killed, Theartis took over the radio and established comm with our company commander. Since my radioman had been wounded, and his radio rendered inoperable by enemy machine gun fire, Theartis’ action to secure an operable radio, while under heavy enemy fire was critical to making higher headquarters aware of the severity of our tactical situation.
After I transferred out of the platoon, Threartis remained behind. It was in this position on August 17, 1968, that he led a night-time patrol of Marines in an area south of Da Nang. When in their ambush position, Theartis detected a group of shadowy figures approaching. Under his Rules of Engagement, he was authorized to open fire without further action, but due to ongoing problems with RVN Popular Force (local militia loyal to Saigon) patrols wondering into Marine-only areas, Theartis challenged the approaching group. The response was immediate bursts of automatic weapons fire from the group, which proved to be a hard-core VC patrol.
Theartis was fatally wounded in the first bursts, but his Marine patrol was able to return fire from their concealed positions and secure the ambush site, forcing the VC patrol to flee. Theartis knew well that by issuing this challenge when he could have just opened fire on the unidentified figures he was taking upon himself the risk that by giving up the element of surprise he would both forfeit the Marines’ tactical advantage and put himself at mortal danger.
P.F.C. Theartis Watts gave his life in an attempt to insure that no friendly Vietnamese forces would suffer another “friendly fire” encounter as long as this 18-year old Marine was in charge.
[ See here
for Theartis Watts, Jr. on the Virtual Wall. ]
Contributor: Roger Charles