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Winter Carnival 2024

Poems & Stories
You're so young as you fight,
Guns in your arms,
Trying so hard to make the world right,
Heading off to war trying to be calm.

Heads held high,
Guns go off - so do alarms,
Fear around you,
Nightmares haunt you in later years,
You cry so often - big bloody tears.

All of brave ones dead and gone,
You held your best friend
while he died in your arms.

All the memories swim your head,
Rest now and don't despair.

Shit thrown at you in the towns,
A war hero hits the ground!

Be at peace - your peace is found.

By: Kirsten V.G. Fisher


The black plastic stock against my cheek
Reminds me of the Mattel Thompson of my youth
Playing war games
With the neighborhood kids - hide and seek...

Ten years later I'm popping caps
Colts's version of Mattel - the M16
But this war is no game to play
The dead stay dead
They don't return to play another day...

I make it easy pretending to be hunting deer
Home in the woods of North East Pa.
Deer have no faces they have no names...

The months have passed I'm home at last
The opening day of deer hunting at last
The trophy in my sights
The slow exhale of breath
And the ever gentle squeeze of trigger...

The stag buck raises his head and shows off the rack
I hesitate and pull back the bolt
And let the unspent round
Fall to the ground...

I shall never hunt again - for the deer now have faces
They now have names...


by: John Mowatt
You gave all you could give
No one could give more
Because of that
I'm here and . . .You're gone.

You were called to serve
You were proud to go
Maybe a little scared
But prepared to do . . .What you must.

High hopes and big dreams
You carried with you
To the faraway land
Across the sea . . .Leaving me.

Then the telegram arrived
Your hopes and dreams
Were gone with you
Left over there . . .With mine.

Now, twenty years later
I stand here with tears
Remembering
You did your job . . .You gave it all.

The glimmer from the sun
Reflects into my eyes
I see your face
Smiling at me . . .Behind your name
On The Wall.


By: Tonya Gross

The small and gentle touch of delicate fingers faintly but irresistibly call me to the Wall.  I recall in the year past, which seems so long ago when my mom, wife and son came and called me to this same Wall.  Even after all this time, the dewdrops on the Wall still remind me of the tears of happiness that I shed that day.

Today, the call is not quite as strong and as I near the Wall, I can see a small child and woman kneeling by the Wall and touching my name that is forever engraved into this cold black granite.  As I move slowly and hesitantly towards the Wall, I think that this must be some kind of mistake.  I near and hear the child mention something to the effect of “grand-dad” and I instantly think, "Could this be my son's wife with my grand-child?"

The feelings of a year's past suddenly return as I look into the face of my grand child and daughter in law.  Time has passed, life carries on and the emotions are again awakened that have not yet been forgotten.

I long to hold and cherish the delicate body of my grand child.  I long to hug and thank my daughter in law for allowing me the time to share in their world.  I long to be able to ask questions, share emotions or just for a moment experience a loving touch that does not have to shared by a wall of granite.  My destiny denies all of these longings but I am still grateful for these short visits with the “real” world.

I am still able to feel the delicate little fingers through the cold stone.  And as she reaches for her Mom, a combined force between the three of us, sends a message of love and the other side of the wall grows slick with the dampness of my tears, that are only considered coming from the humidity in the air.  The frustration of not being able to physically touch this new part of my family is overwhelming but I'm still grateful that I've been allowed to share even this much. I am only hopeful that children such as this one will realize the true meaning of war and the effects of having known of someone that had participated…

...I am not forgotten as so many others that stand along with me behind this Wall.

I yell and bring attention to myself,

..... "WE ARE NOT FORGOTTEN" .....

These are our grandchildren and they REMEMBER with the help of those that shared and have suffered the effects of Vietnam and our plight to keep the memories alive.

..... "COME ALL!" .....

and see the next generation that will REMEMBER as we THANK THEM FOR REMEMBERING.  Let us rejoice and make "Old Glory", our proud Stars and Stripes stand straight out and proclaim our allegiance and Support for our Nation that we sacrificed so much for………

I hesitantly go back to my place as my daughter in law and grandchild prepare to leave and can only pray that the coming year will bring me and so many others the assurances that we have not been forgotten, ...

... and again our gathering numbers repeat over and over again ...

..... "Thanks for Remembering" .....

..... "Thanks for Remembering" .....

until our next meeting.


by: Patrick "Beanie" Camunes


Click Here
Death be sincere
When You walk past my door
You needn't hide Your ways to me
I've seen Your face before
I've watched You hover among
The Old
To Wait and Torment
And turn them cold
I've listened as You uncovered
The cowardly face
While You let some stand taller
In bravery's grace
You're slow, You're fast
You're cruel, You're kind
Then at times when You arrive
You refrain
But I beg that when You come to me
I don't care how or why or when
I ask you Death, to ease my soul
......Don't let me die in vain


by: D.L. OxFord

Do not stand at my grave and weep;

I am not there, I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow,

I am the diamond's glint on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain,

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning's hush,

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circling flight.

I am the stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry.

I am not there. I did not die.


Author Unknown


The Lord looked down upon His earth.

He watched many lives being lived,
and witnessed many births.

Then The Lord noticed that
there was something wrong
Soldiers left behind
and forgotten for so long!

Some were still alive,
others buried and long gone.
All had been deserted;
left to fight on all alone;
rejected by their country,
a country they'd called home.
They'd fought with pride and honor!
Why was nothing being done?

The Lord saw this and He began to weep.
His tears soaked into the hearts
of those whose love flowed deep.
His tears eased the pain and sorrow
of those who the endless vigil kept,
and nurtured hearts and minds
as in their lonliness they wept.

As His tears dropped,
a man was at The Wall.

He looked up into the sky
felt the sorrow in those drops.
He knelt over and he wept,
at his silent vigil spot.

The rain kept on falling,
but he didn't see the rain.
He saw one special teardrop
for each who'd suffered pain.
He keenly sensed the forgotten ones
who'd been left behind alone
in mental cages, felt the rain
containing great and wondrous love.
And knew his silent Vigil helped
ease tortured hearts and pain.


By: DJ Proton

The Escort

Your father wouldn't come.
He stopped and turned away
when he saw this Black Wall
saying your name.

They have an index here,
like a telephone book,
and I found your name right away,
although I was in no hurry.

As others huddle in whispers,
I walk alone and listen
to a wall saturated
with endings.

There, there is your name.
The lettering is precise.
The spelling,
accurate.

You are placed exactly
when you died,
between these thousands
of others.

Excellent records were kept
for those of us here,
as if this proves
this war was correct after all.

I still worry. Your father
shakes his head when I say
I pray our son
was not a virgin.

The crowd on the Wall
speaks, their voices roar
into a war cry
that only I hear.

Their words
can't be distinguished
no matter how hard I listen
for just your voice.

Do all parents come here
to hang by their fingertips
from the chiseled names
they had chosen at birth?

by: Pamela Basurto


I stand here at this granite wall
And think of the good old days
When all we did on summer days
Was sit around or play ball

We graduated from high school
We worked a year or two
Then Uncle Sam replaced our jobs
And M-16s became our tool

I went to the Airborne
You chose the Artillery
Molly said good bye to you
While Jenny cried 'til morn

We were young and shining heroes
To the folks we left behind
We were going to fight for peace
For a people we didn't know

We came into this foreign land
A green and naďve bunch
And left with different feelings
That no one could understand

We both came home a different sort
And will never be the same
Since you arrived in a long pine box
And I arrived as your escort

They buried you on that Friday
And all your friends were there
Some visit you very often
Some visit you every day

It's not the same without you
I can't expect it to be
But I never will forget
What we gave away we, two

I stand here at this granite wall
And think of the good old days
When all we did on summer days
Was sit around or play ball

by: Bob Staranowicz


The lanky lad from northern town
stepped onto southern soil.
Alighting from a battered bus
into the midday boil.

His reception wasn't friendly
the greeting scorched the air.
"Line up you f-----g Yankees"
he heard a corporal swear.

The sweat froze on his forehead
he didn't blink an eye.
The sand fleas feasted on his neck
his skin began to fry.

The town was Beaufort-by-the-Sea
the boy thought it was hell.
Across the channel, Parris Isle
beckoned him to dwell.

Upon its hostile burning sand
for eternity it seemed.
Oh, what a sad mistake he made
this wasn't what he dreamed.

He marched and drilled on sandy soil
his flesh turned hard and lean.
And when the moon went down at last
he emerged, a proud marine.

by: Raymond Le Rendu



DAYS FOR GUY

I VISITED "THE WALL" TODAY

Wake up, America
you don't even know you're asleep
You sent men off to a distant land,
your honor for to keep.

Fifty-eight thousand fought and died,
but all were not brought home,
Won't you accept responsibility
and help us set them free?

Many have died from Agent Orange,
the cancer tells the tale,
Others suffer from Post Traumatic Stress,
wonder why they end up in jail,

Wake up, America,
you don't even know you're asleep,
You sent men off to a distant land,
your honor for to keep.

In training we never heard the words defeat,
we were willing to give all,
We fought beside men, brave and true,
watched many a comrade fall.

You tied our hands, you lost the war,
then we received the blame.
Don't you owe us anything?
We suffered in your name.

Wake up, America
you don't even know you're asleep.
You sent men off to a distant land,
your honor for to keep.

BY: Ray A. Banks


Joseph Guy LaPointe, Jr.
Conscientious Objector and Combat Medic
was killed in action 2 June 1969
in the Republic of Viet Nam

May 1968
Fort Sam Houston, Texas

You held hands with Kansas City
for too long,
and the Cumberland in Summer
breathed though your lungs
to make Ohio your skin -
so much that
when the government papers came,
confining you to Texas and the Army
your eyes wanted Dayton so much
that they couldn't cry.
Still, you sang.
You said Canada
was foreign to you,
and Nova Scotia ran Autumn
in your veins.
You wouldn't turn
North to Freedom.

27 August 1968
Three-day Pass

Leaving San Antonio
we rode north to Dallas,
and on that road,
drinking wine, you named the birds,
the plants, the small animals
for me-- I listened
as you read the land,
and when you sang,
it was the same:
your gentle love
sang in your voice and strumming hands.
Later, when you called
all the way from Dallas
to your pregnant wife
your eyes were gone to Dayton
in Ohio, watching her grow.
You were too innocent
for honesty.

4 November 1968
Oakland Army Depot

Beyond the green warehouse
the politician's words that kill
and flag that files an unkept promise
brushed on your skin.
The touch was lost.
America was not theirs
it was not there.
We followed the taped red line
and left our baggage in the dark.

November 1968
San Francisco AWOL

In that stolen time
we stood on Ocean Beach
while you taught me
other songs to sing,
saying you wouldn't mind
the coming year--
next Fall would be here soon.
I didn't want to take you
from that place where you stood
throwing stones at the sky,
but words were raging
from the capitals of the world
and the killing time was coming.

12 November 1968
Bien Hoa, RVN

Leaning on the sandbags
that cased the wooden and
wire-screened hooch
beside the bomber's locking radar station
we read each other's orders,
smoking.
They were all words and numbers then,
and we spoke only of memories.
I copied your address
and lost it.

2 June 1969
Hue, RVN

I watched the wide river
from by bunker top
while the pric 25
stoned my radio ears
telling me in static rasps
that a dying time was near--
I thought it was my own.
Tomorrow
we would relieve
the Second
of the Seventeenth Cavalry.
It was all words
and numbers.

October 1969
America

In Kansas, the wheat and corn
have been harvested, shipped and sold,
the wild geese are escaped South
and soon the snows will cover
the Dakotas and Wyoming.
I want to hear you
sing this Winter coming on.
The sun burns southward.
Voices stall through the capitals
and fade in the air--
but in America
who is left to name
those small animals
moving through the snow,
or tell the histories
of each brittle weed
standing frozen in the wind?

by: Frank B. Smith


I visited "The Wall" today
Not knowing what to expect.
It's only a wall with names,
Not with a face or words to say...

The names were almost endless,
Fifty-Eight thousand plus.
The visitors were fathers, sons,
Friends and us...

My son stood closely,
As I carefully touched the stone.
My hands were shaking as I realized,
Some never may come home...

A young girl left a note,
It said:
“Thank you for your sacrifice,
I love you.
Sincerely, Me."
A young girl visited "TheWall" today...

As my son watched,
I cried,
I couldn't speak...

For honor and reverence
Of those who died
For me...

I visited “The Wall” today,
Not knowing what to expect
Thank you for serving and dying,
For me and the rest…


In Gratitude


Sgt. Brian Stuttler


...after a visit to "The Wall" this past summer...

Medal of Honor Citation

JOSEPH GUY LA POINTE JR
Specialist Fourth Class, U.S. Army
2d Sqn, 17th Cav, 101st Airborne Division.
Place and Date: Quang Tin province,
Republic of Vietnam, 2 June 1969.
Entered Service at: Cincinnati, Ohio.
Born: 2 July 1948, Dayton, Ohio.

For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity in action at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty. Sp4c. Lapointe, Headquarters and Headquarters Troop, 2d Squadron, distinguished himself while serving as a medical aidman during a combat helicopter assault mission. Sp4c. Lapointe's patrol was advancing from the landing zone through an adjoining valley when it suddenly encountered heavy automatic weapons fire from a large enemy force entrenched in well fortified bunker positions. In the initial hail of fire, 2 soldiers in the formation vanguard were seriously wounded. Hearing a call for aid from 1 of the wounded, Sp4c. Lapointe ran forward through heavy fire to assist his fallen comrades. To reach the wounded men, he was forced to crawl directly in view of an enemy bunker. As members of his unit attempted to provide covering fire, he administered first aid to 1 man, shielding the other with his body. He was hit by a burst of fire from the bunker while attending the wounded soldier. In spite of his painful wounds, Sp4c. Lapointe continued his lifesaving duties until he was again wounded and knocked to the ground. Making strenuous efforts, he moved back again into a shielding position to continue administering first aid. An exploding enemy grenade mortally wounded all 3 men. Sp4c. Lapointe's courageous actions at the cost of his life were an inspiration to his comrades. His gallantry and selflessness are in the highest traditions of the military service and reflect great credit on him, his unit, and the U.S. Army.


The End

I no longer feel the warmth of day on my skin, nor do I feel any pain from my wounds. Though they continue, I cannot hear the sounds of exploding grenades and automatic weapons fire. I no longer smell the pungent aroma from the meal that was prepared only minutes before.

        My sergeant, SFC John T. Ropple, is preparing me for extraction. Actually, he is preparing my body for extraction. He and several Regional Forces soldiers pick up my body from where it lay, and they carry it to a clearing about 300 yards from the ambush site. I only weigh 150 pounds, but they struggle and strain because they are very tired. I want to help them, but I cannot. They reach the clearing and set me down. John radios a request for a support helicopter. The helicopter approaches. As John pops smoke to mark the landing zone, the Viet Cong open fire. The same Viet Cong who ambushed us have pursued them to the landing zone. John waves off the helicopter because the LZ is too hot. A short time later, two helicopter gunships arrive and lay down some suppressing fire, enabling the support helicopter to land. They carry my body to the helicopter, where a crewman waits in the open doorway. He helps pull me aboard, and the helicopter quickly takes off.

        It was a short flight to the 12th Evacuation Hospital at Cu Chi. A Marine Corps doctor–Captain Michael A. Wanchick–examines my remains and pronounces my death. He notes the cause as “Missile Wound to Head” and records the time as “1700 hours, 16 October 1970.” I was just getting used to thinking of my former self as “a body,” and now they are referring to it as “the remains.” Hey, there is my sergeant! He is up on his feet, but he does not look very good. John stayed on the ground after I left, and worked with the helicopter gunships. He is physically and mentally exhausted. He feels bad about what happened. He keeps telling himself that he did everything possible to keep his lieutenant alive. He really did do everything possible, but he does not believe it. I want to comfort John and tell him not to worry, but I cannot. The doctors keep him overnight for observation.

        It is morning now. My remains are moved down the road to the mortuary in Saigon. They arrive at 9:30am. This place is a real production shop, and the workers are very busy, but they are professional and respectful. They fingerprint me and then compare the prints to some I had made back in June, just in case something like this happened. They inspect my teeth and compare them to my dental records by means of a dental chart. My remains are going to be viewable, so I guess they want to make sure it is really me. They also do some repair work on my wounds. The name of the gentleman doing the work is James L. Hobgood. He’s a civilian. James came to Vietnam all the way from Oklahoma to help the American boys on their last trip home. They are also processing a lot of paperwork today.

        It is morning again...October 18, 1970. James begins a preserving process at 8:00am. By 10:30am, the process is complete and I am ready to go. However, the mortuary personnel have more paperwork to process, teletype messages to send, and transportation to arrange. I learned that I was not the only American who died in Southeast Asia on October 16, 1970. There were eight of us–seven soldiers and one marine. I outrank all but one of them, but that is just a matter of record. Rank did not matter before, except when it was necessary to get a job done, and it certainly does not matter now. Moreover, to prove it, here we are in alphabetical order without our rank! From the Marine Corps, there was Ernest Daniel Cardwell of Concord, Virginia. From the Army there was Dominic John De Angelis of New York City; Wilfredo Galivan-Torres of Ponce, Puerto Rico; Stephen Edward Jesko of Hereford, Texas; John Dewey Livingston of Red Creek, New York; me of course; David Alan Moore of Lafayette, Indiana; Robert Thomas Wilson of Dothan, Alabama.

        The next day, October 19, 1970, they place my remains in a container, called a traffic case, and load it onto an Air Force C-141 transport plane that is bound for Kadena AFB in Okinawa. I am not alone, however. Two other traffic cases are loaded onto the plane. They contain the remains of Wilfredo and John. Wilfredo and I were Roman Catholic and John was a Methodist. All three of us were Infantrymen, and we shared the same casualty status: “hostile,” “ground,” and “gun, small arms fire.” Wilfredo and John both were 20 years old. Both were killed in the Binh Thuy Province. Both received posthumous promotions. John, a draftee, arrived in Vietnam on March 19, 1970. Wilfredo, an enlistee, arrived in Vietnam on August 31, 1970. My traffic case is labeled “NR 457,” which will mainly be of interest to the Chief of Support Services at Dover AFB, because my case contains all three of our fingerprint charts. The plane departs around 1:00pm and heads for Kadena. It arrives at 5:45pm, but this flight is bound for Oakland, not Dover, so we are off-loaded to a different C-141, which departs Kadena around 10:00pm.

        My remains arrive at Dover AFB at 9:00am on October 21, 1970. If the U.S. Army Mortuary at Saigon was big, the port of entry mortuary at Dover is huge. It is busier, too, but the staff here are just as professional and respectful. My remains are reprocessed for identification. They are cosmetized. The name of the gentleman doing the work is Howard W. Atwell. Howard, like James Hobgood back in Saigon, is a civilian. My remains are dressed in a U.S. Army officer’s uniform with appropriate rank insignia and decorations. They are placed in a metal casket. More paperwork is processed, and logistical plans are communicated to concerned parties.

        It is now October 23, 1970. My remains were transported from Dover AFB to McGuire AFB in Wrightstown, New Jersey, and then to the civilian airport in Philadelphia. My escort has arrived. His name is 1LT William E. Dobbs, and he is assigned to the 10th Special Forces Group (Airborne) at Fort Devens in Ayer, Massachusetts. Bill supervises the loading of my remains onto an Eastern Airlines plane, and he boards the plane himself. We will be traveling together from this point on. The plane departs Philadelphia at 5:05pm. It is scheduled to arrive at Bradley Airport in Windsor Locks, Connecticut, at 5:57pm.

        I have been so caught up in all of the attention being paid to me, that it has just occurred to me that I am going home. My family…my fiancée…my friends...they are all waiting for me to arrive. Their lives have been shattered. I wish I could tell them that I love them, and that they should not worry about me, but I cannot."

by: Bernard J. Lovett Jr


Stories & Poems
Coming Soon

I'LL MEET YOU AT THE WALL
THE BLACK GRANITE WALL
POW-MIA
THE WORLD, WAR, FREEDOM, AND MORE
I'LL NEVER FORGET YOU, BUDDY
BAM!!
DOWN IN D.C.
THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING TO ME
THESE ARE THE BOOTS
CHINA BEACH
ONE NAME HAS A FACE
GUARDS OF BRONZE
THE WALL
A MOTHER'S MEMORIAL TRILOGY
A FATHER'S TRIBUTE TO HIS FALLEN WARRIOR
NO WORD
THE COLD BLACK WALL
AGAINST THE HEART
REFLECTION
MY JOURNEY TO THE WALL
VETS OF NAM
THE LP...THERE IT IS
WHEN WE WERE CALLED
TO ENGLAND
FAREWELL
HALLOWED BE THY NAMES
WAR
FRIENDS FOREVER
A LETTER TO MY SON
TOUCHING
FOUR WHEELS AND A DIAPER BAG
TAM KY, AMBUSHED...1967
FAMILY TIES THAT BIND
EDGES OF THE WALL
"THE VETERAN"
DRY TEARS
FOR THOSE WE'VE LOST
GOOD BYE VIETNAM
VETERANS DAY 2002
MIA
THEIR NAMES, CALLING
THE WAR
OUR VET'S
THE WALL
A TEAR FOR THOSE WHO GAVE THEIR ALL
'NAM
ON MY SHOULDER
JIM
WHEN I GET HOME--LETTERS FROM BOBBY
GUISSEPPE SMILES
RON'S WALL
ONWARD UNKNOWN SOLDIER
WHY?
RUBBINGS - A VIETNAM PASTORAL
THANK YOU PRECIOUS VETERANS
YOU WERE OURS
THE NAME ON THE WALL
ONE YEAR
THE WALL
EXCUSE ME, DID YOU KNOW MY FATHER?
WE REMEMBER
THE WALL
ONCE A WARRANT .. ALWAYS A WARRANT
A MEMORIAL DAY TRIBUTE
I TRIED TO VISIT THE WALL
WHISPERS FROM THE WALL
BEYOND THE LIVING WALL
THE SINGLE THING
AMERICA....REMEMBER ME?
FACES IN THE WALL
SHITFIRE
TRIBUTE TO THE US ARMY SPECIAL FORCES
"THE SILENT WAR"
MY BUDDIES IN ARMS
IN SILENT REMEMBRANCE
SILVER WINGS IN OUR HOPE CHEST
AS I LOOK BACK
FIFTY-EIGHT THOUSAND UNCLES
WINGS OF GOLD
BROTHERS IN ARMS
OVER BUT NOT FORGOTTEN
GODS NAM VET
REFLECTIONS ON ROLLING THUNDER
AWAY IN A BUNKER
LETTER TO A WALL
JOURNEY TO THIS VALLEY
IMAGERY OF WAR - 1967
THE HOPE AND FAITH THAT BULWARKS DUTY
STILL UNANSWERED
THE WALL OF PRIDE
THE ONE RED ROSE FAREWELL TO A COMRADE
WHIRLY BIRDS
MATTHEW'S LETTER
WALK THE WALK
WALL OFFERS PERSONAL HEALING
TO AUSTRALIA FAIR
PROUD VETS
TWO JULES
TO LIVE AGAIN
THE FIRST TRIP BACK
FROM SCOTLAND...THESE BRAVE
ALL THINGS ARE POSSIBLE
FROM THE OTHER SIDE
MY FRIEND-CAPT. DANNY D. ENTRICAN
I WILL REMEMBER
VIETNAM VIGNETTES
STILL THE NOBLEST CALLING
WE COULD OF BEEN HEROES
THE GALLANT WALL
THE GUARDIAN ANGEL
SPOKEN IN SILENCE
I AM THE WALL
UNDER GREY SKIES
TO CANADA
BRAVE YOUNG MEN
I CAME TO SEE YOUR NAME IN BLACK
FORGOTTEN
AS I READ THEIR NAMES ALOUD
THE TWENTY ONE GUNS
ARLINGTON
THE SOLDIER
BESIDE THIS WALL
THE SPIRIT OF THE WALL
FOR THOSE WHO ARE NOT
THE BLACK GRANITE WALL
58,256
I WENT TO THE WALL
BUFFALO NY MEMORIAL
YOU DON’T KNOW US

1st Recon Bn.com

The War

Click Here

No Man Left Behind part 2
Click Here

Unit Awards and Decorations - Recon 17
The Memory Remains Not All Wounds Are Visible - Recon 18
Purple Heart - Recon 19
Vietnam Footage & Memorials - Recon 20
Vietnam Memorials & Monuments part 2
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,  My Missions in Nam (Coming soon), Photos of 1st Recon Battalion in Nam, Recon Missions the units Patrol Reports 1968-1969 (coming soon),   A Summer Day in Nam - My Story (Coming soon),   Recon 1  The War,  Recon 2 Tet Offensive in Nam 1968, Tet Offensive in Nam 1969 (Coming soon),  Recon 3 Vietnam War Timeline,  Recon 4 President Richard M. Nixon's Report on Vietnam, Recon 5 1950's US send troops to Vietnam,   Recon 6 The French Foreign Legion in Vietnam,  Recon 7 Hill 200 my story with photos (Coming soon), Recon 8 - Maps & Artifacts - The Time Capsule (Coming soon), Recon 9 1st Recon Battalion Units photos, Recon 10 Sounds from Nam (Coming soon),  Recon 11 Reunion Photos, Recon 12  Helicopters in Nam, Recon 13 1st Recon Bn. Awards & Decorations, Recon 14 Navy & Marine Corps Awards and Decorations, Recon 15 Marine Corps Awards & Decorations, Recon 16 Personal Awards & Decorations, Recon 17 Information on Unit Awards, Recon 18 The Memory Remains Not All Wounds Are Visible, Recon 19 Purple Heart (Coming soon) & Recon 20 Vietnam Footage & Memorials, Vietnam Memorials & Monuments part 2  No Man Left Behind part 1, No Man Left Behind part 2, No Man Left Behind part 3 (Coming soon) ,1st Recon Bn.com Photo Gallery , 1st Recon Bn. Association Messages, 1st Marine Division Association Messages, Battles of the Vietnam War, Hamburger Hill, Vietnam 1968, Vietnam 1969, Vietnam Today, The Day The Eagle Cried, My Message Board. 

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