These are stories that are part of my history. I've heard my Dad tell them countless times, often in his sermons. They shaped my faith in many ways, and so I asked my Dad a while back to write them down for me. He did so a bit reluctantly, because he isn't as comfortable writing his stories as he is with speaking them.
There are three here that I will post for you. I love the fact that these stories still mess with me. That I still don't always know how to feel about them and that they speak of how complicated our world is and how we have to live in the midst of circumstances and do the best with the knowledge that we have to live according to our convictions and the leading of the Spirit. Sometimes that can get really complicated.
I am proud of my Dad. Grateful for his service on behalf of this country, and so blessed by the evidence that His heart's first loyalty has been to God.
I hope you are blessed by his stories. These are his words:
Photo by Daren Mark Richner
The M16
I was one of 6 boys growing up in a small rural town in Pennsylvania. “Guns,”as we called them were very important items. I had experience shooting a BB gun first, a 22 Remmington, an 18 and 20 and 12 gage shotgun, a 4-10 and a few high powered rifles we shared during deer season between brothers. The 30 odd 6 was my favorite but rarely would my older brothers let me get my hands on that one.
When my number came up in the military draft I received a telephone call telling me that within the next few days I would be drafted into the United States Army and shortly afterwords would no doubt be sent to serve in Vietnam as a combat soldier. I had just graduated from college, was recently married and I already thought I was getting old at age 23. I figured I had one of three choices to make. I could either choose the Air Force, the Navy or the US army. I chose the Army since they had a two year enlistment option. I wanted nothing of any three year programs with a choice of assignments. God certainly wouldn’t let me go to Vietnam where I might have to kill someone. He would certainly keep me out of “combat”, so I thought.
Well, I joined the US army’s two year program which meant that I would have absolutely no options. I was at the mercy of the Army as far as what I would be assigned to do and where I would serve. I was first assigned to Fort Bragg North Carolina for basic training and then to Fort McClellan , Alabama for “advanced infantry” training before being assigned to Vietnam.
It was at Fort Bragg that I was first introduced to the M16 rifle. Before any of us new recruits would be permitted to handle this weapon we were all marched out to a target range for a first hand display of the power of the M16. Our company was about 100 in number from what I recall and we were instructed to sit “at ease” in these bleachers and were told to wait for the demonstration to begin in just a few minutes. We noticed out in front of the bleachers a number of targets at varying distances. Breaking the silence we heard the drill sergeant bark out “Attention”. We all stood up and waited for the next command. Into the demonstration area walked a number of soldiers, “vets,” with their M16’s. They had not loaded them as of yet but we could see their “clips” that in no time could be loaded and unloaded. We were then instructed to be “at ease” and seated. This was my very first experience at seeing anything so amazing in all my life in terms of firepower on display by a very small group of experienced soldiers with the M16. It was awesome. I had never seen tracers being used before. Real bullets with every 4th one a tracer heading out towards targets all over the field. Each magazine had 15 to 20 bullets. As soon as one magazine was emptied, the soldiers would eject the empty magazine and immediately reloaded the already filled other magazine. Each soldier had about 12 magazines. It was a demonstration that lasted but just minutes but the effect was exhilarating to say the least. We were impressed. I was amazed at what just a few guys could do in just a few minutes of time with that weapon. I sort of had the idea that we soldiers would be almost invincible against the enemy with a weapon like this.
Almost immediately after this display of fire power marched back to a conference room. We were then given the order to sit and pay attention. In walks this soldier, dressed in combat uniform holding the M16. He asked us if we were impressed with the weapon. We all said “yes drill sergeant”. In unison, of course. He then explained to us that as powerful as this weapon was, it had one major defect. There was only one remedy for the defect and only we (each individual) were responsible to make sure that this defect would be treated in such a way so as never to fail in combat. NEVER! Our lives and those of our fellow soldiers needed to count on it. He then went on to explain that in Vietnam as in many other war zones soldiers would need to fight on sandy soil. One grain of sand entering the firing chamber could and would shut down the weapon. In Vietnam we would be moving around the war zone in helicopters most of the time on combat assault missions (Charlie Alphas) they called them and soldiers would find them selves in the midst of a sand storm when being picked up and let off into the danger zones. We would have to always be absolutely certain that our weapon would fire. We would have to have this confidence without ever taking a practice shot. Why? We would never be allowed to give our position away to the enemy by making noise just to see if our weapon would fire.
We then watched the drill sergeant “disassemble” the weapon and then blindfolded put it back together in a matter of seconds. We were spell bound. Then he said that from now until we were assigned to a combat unit in Vietnam we would be given an M16 and train to take the weapon apart and keep it clean and put it back together again with full confidence that it would deliver the power it was designed to deliver. We were never allowed to call the M16 a “gun”. It was a lethal weapon, light, easy to handle, easily loaded, with semi automatic and automatic options at our disposal and designed to kill. But with one potential flaw. A dirty weapon was to invite disaster. We would need to be highly disciplined to keep this from ever happening. Our lives depended upon it.
Walking Trees
“Saddle up! In ten minutes we meet at the chopper pad”! Just the words we never relished hearing. This meant just one thing. We were off on another assignment. They were called Charlie Alfa’s. In laymen’s terms “Combat Assaults.” At that time I had no idea that 25 of these special assignments would win all of us an “air medal”. I have no idea who was keeping the books on these things nor did I ever care. I suspect that every “grunt” assigned to the First Air Cavalry qualified after just two months of combat service. Our “gear” was always ready. We were on “red alert” every time we were on “stand down” resting in a secure place until called. We always wanted to know what we were heading to and for what purpose but rarely did we get much if any information. We were just told that an enemy unit was spotted from the air and we were to go out and investigate. It was to be a “quiet” investigation. We were “echo company” and our specialty was recon. That means we were specialists at gathering information behind enemy lines with the intent of not coming into contact with the enemy if at all possible. We were to find the enemy and since we were only about 28 in number we tried to avoid fighting at all costs. That was for the bigger combat companies, namely companies A, B, C, and D all of which had about 100 soldiers. We were however all from the 1st Air Cav. and proud to be known as such. There were five or six helicopters waiting for us and we piled in and in no time we were off. The only one who could give us information was the helicopter machine gunner. He said that we were hoping it would be a quiet landing. We went with an escort of two “cobras” and a small Loach helicopter so we knew this was serious stuff. Helicopters need open space to land in and once we got to the dropping zone about 20 minutes later we jumped off and hurried to a clump of trees and hit the ground and waited. The tree line was about two hundred yards in front of us from all sides. Our company commander was waiting for his next orders that would be given by telephone. About 30 minutes later I heard my company commander whisper “Richner prepare to move out”. He gave me the compass numbers and being the point man that day I did a quick check. While that was taking place everyone was also getting prepared to move towards the tree line. So as to not need to constantly check one’s compass reading while on the move I learned to pick out as large of a target as possible and head to that target. It was usually a large tree. By doing this we could pay special attention to what might be ahead of us.
The army gave me very little training as a point man. It was more a matter of instincts and vision and attention to detail. No one volunteered for this job. I only found out later that point men were basically replacing other dead point men. That is why I was there. I was there however because God assigned me to this task. This I was assured of. He gave me training back in the woods of Pennsylvania as a squirrel hunter. What more did I need? As my eyes were finding a large target, preferably a large tree at the compass reading my company commander gave me I was immediately alarmed. It was squirrel hunting 101 right before my eyes. I learned a long time ago as a boy that trees don’t move but squirrels do. About 200 yards ahead of me I saw small trees moving and stopping, moving and stopping and I had never seen this happen in all my life. I alerted my company commander and he asked if I was sure. I said, absolutely certain. He then got on the telephone and called for immediate help. We remained still in that little clump of trees. The 28 of us and we had no idea how many enemy soldiers were out there. One promise stood out in my mind. In our combat infantry training we were told that once the alert was given for help, we would just have to keep the enemy occupied with our M16’s for ten minutes. Help would then be at our sides. I personally don’t think they kept that promise. It seemed like light years. All of a sudden to my left a number of enemy soldiers not knowing we were in the clump of trees started heading in our direction. We did what our instincts and training taught us. We engaged “the heavily armed walking trees”. Artillery shells began pummeling the ground and tree line all around us. “Cobra helicopters with mini guns firing and a host of “flying angels (helicopters filled with 1st Cav. Grunts)” combat comrades were brought to our side by unites on “red alert”. Not one of those soldiers in that little clump of trees were injured that day. A miracle! I don’t think so. I call it Providence.
Promoted
We were a recon unit with the 1st Air Cav and were made up of approximately 28 men. We normally had three squads of 8. I was the first squad's point man. I would remain so as long as I remained healthy (alive), would be on R & R for a 7 day leave, or injured. I never held another position during all my time in the field. The eight men had titles. They walked in the following order: Point man, who concentrated on his front and cleared a path well enough to allow the machine gunner get through the bush unimpeded. Next was a rifleman who carried extra machine gun ammo and had the title of machine gun assistant. He would normally carry a tripod for the machine gunner who was one spot back. The machine gunner was normally a stronger then usual athletic type because he had to carry the M60. He was the MVP of the unit when we were in trouble. Next, another rifleman, then the commanding officer, his radio-telephone operator, a rifleman with a grenade launcher instead of an M16, and then another rifleman or possibly two. Most often the lone medic would walk up front with the squad leading. He usually was one who never even carried a weapon for most of them were “conscientious objectors”. I had the utmost respect for all of them. Squad #2 and squad #3 followed with pretty much the same order.
Squads daily rotated walking the point because the lead squad was always under extreme pressure..
On this particular day in August of 1969 I was the number 17th man. I had walked the point on the previous day and it was a “no brainer” that we were moving through dangerous territory. There were “signs” and we were all a bit edgy. We did everything to stay off the trails mostly choosing to make our own for safety sake.
For the past two weeks we had been adjusting to a new lieutenant as our company commander. He was a West Point trained leader and a bit more aggressive than the previous commander who had served his 365 days and rotated back to the USA. He was getting used to us and we him. We called him “sir” even though he didn’t wear his stripes out there in “the boonies” as we called it. Snipers were known to try to take out the people they thought to be the key players.
We were all known by our last names. We were never encouraged to develop close relationships. We were never on a first name basis. You can imagine the reason why. I have forgotten the last name of the young man walking point that day. I just knew that he was every bit as good as I thought myself to be and maybe more. Yet, on that day his life no doubt changed. He walked our company into a bunker complex which is usually “death written all over it” but this day was different. The bunkers were empty except for one. From that bunker the enemy exploded a rocket towards our unit. I could hear the metal pellets smashing the bamboo trees all around me even though I was 17th from the front . We were always very careful to observe the rule of having adequate space between each other. We were all well trained. We always seemed to be at the top of our game when “edgy”. It was so, on this day. Everyone hit the ground and those in front immediately responded with fire power. The M60 was on automatic with the assistant by his side. Squads 3 and 1 were too far back to contribute to this fight. We were all at the ready from all sides. The company commander and telephone operator were super busy at this point relaying information back to headquarters and almost immediately there were “Cobra” helicopters diving toward the bunker with “mini guns” and rockets launched for effect. I could see very little from my position as to what all was going on. I was curious though and wanted to know the whole story. The “Cobras” left. There was silence for a time and then all of a sudden there was another “laud burst” of firepower. It sounded like our weapons.. We learned to tell the difference. Then “the silence." The “fire fight” was over. It was getting dark and we bedded down for the night.
I wanted to know what took place up front and if our point people were ok. I was relieved to see him sitting near his gear, quiet and pensive. He told me what happened. I quietly went back to my position for the evening, reflecting on the information I had received.
I was convinced that I needed to have a talk with the commanding officer. He wasn’t much older than I and I did respect him and I knew he respected me. He invited me to sit down and asked me what was on my mind. It was a quiet conversation of course, but one we might categorize as “a divine conversation”. It lasted but just minutes.
I said, “Sir, had you given me the order you gave the point man today, I would not have been able to obey you. I understand that the three injured men in the bunker were waving a white flag to surrender and you chose to have them finished off by the point man and machine gunner. They obeyed, I would not have.”
"Why not, Richner?" was his question. I told him that my conscience would not have permitted me to do so, since they were asking to be taken as prisoners. He gave me his reasoning behind the order and I respected his decision. I gave him mine. We knew where each other stood and the next day we were all out searching for the enemy. He was my commanding officer and I walked the point when my turn came up for the next 30 days.
Then, on a day I will never forget, my commander came up to me and said: “Richner, today a helicopter will be coming to drop off supplies and you are to return with the chopper for your next “very important assignment”. Congratulations, You have been selected as the 1 Cav. Brigade Commander's radio, telephone operator and driver. You will receive training for your new responsibilities as soon as you arrive. Your replacement will be arriving here today with the supplies.” He shook my hand and wished me well. Later, my fellow E company comrades shook my hand before climbing onto the supply helicopter and off we headed for Tay Ninh.
The rest of my time in Vietnam I would be working for Brigade commander Colonel Collins. I would be taking him coffee at 5 am in the morning to his command trailer, serving his meals, taking his clothes to be cleaned and picked up, shinning his shoes, handling his jeep radio and picking him up from the helicopter pad and running him to the hospital. He was the kind of leader not everyone was blessed to serve under. He taught me a ton.
I was especially impressed with how he handled injured soldiers and even those who lost their lives. Echo company lost their share including a number of “point men”. I was one of the more fortunate ones and I attribute that to Providence and that conversation with the West Point Lieutenant. Yes, we are to obey those in authority over us, and especially in the military. Opportunities do present themselves every once in a while when someone needs to step up and have a quiet conversation with their leader when he is convinced he “just must”. And leave the rest with the Lord.
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