Vietnam War

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On this day, 57 years ago, February 24, 1969, 23-year-old Airman First Class John Lee Levitow served as loadmaster on an...
05/03/2026

On this day, 57 years ago, February 24, 1969, 23-year-old Airman First Class John Lee Levitow served as loadmaster on an AC-47 “Spooky” gunship, tail number 71, during a night mission supporting the besieged Long Binh Army Post in South Vietnam.

Part of the 3rd Special Operations Squadron, the crew circled the perimeter, firing miniguns and dropping Mark 24 magnesium flares to illuminate and suppress enemy forces.

Levitow handled flares in the cargo hold, loading them into the drop chute near the open door.

That night, a mortar shell exploded near the fuselage, ripping a large hole in the wing, peppering the plane with thousands of fragments, and wounding everyone in the rear.The blast ignited a live flare, which rolled smoking toward the open door, threatening to detonate and destroy the aircraft.

Bleeding from over 40 wounds, Levitow staggered forward, unable to reach it with his hands, so he threw himself on the burning magnesium, pinning it with his body.Despite searing pain as it charred his skin and clothes, he dragged it away from the door toward the center.

Using his last strength, he lifted and hurled the flare out the door, where it ignited safely away from the plane.

The damaged Spooky 71 limped to an emergency landing at Tan Son Nhut Air Base, saving the crew.Levitow's actions saved seven lives by smothering and ejecting the flare.

For his valor over Long Binh, Sergeant John L. Levitow (promoted post-event) received the Medal of Honor.

He recovered, completed his Air Force career, retired as Master Sergeant, and died November 8, 2000, at 55 from cancer, buried at Arlington National Cemetery.

God bless this hero forever.

You grunts can have only one of these to fight in Vietnam and that would be ...
05/03/2026

You grunts can have only one of these to fight in Vietnam and that would be ...

Before you scroll past this photo, stop for a moment and look at his face.Not the uniform.Not the helmet.Just the smile....
05/03/2026

Before you scroll past this photo, stop for a moment and look at his face.
Not the uniform.
Not the helmet.
Just the smile.
It's the kind of smile you see on any young man who still has his whole life ahead of him. The kind of smile that belongs in family photos, graduation pictures, and memories that last for decades. There's something unmistakably youthful in it - the confidence, the warmth, the sense that tomorrow is just another day waiting to happen.
He was nineteen.
Nineteen is an age filled with plans. It's an age when people are just beginning to discover who they are and what they want their future to look like. Most nineteen-year-olds are thinking about college, careers, road trips with friends, and the long road of life that seems to stretch endlessly ahead.

But for some young men during the late 1960s, nineteen looked very different.
Instead of classrooms or part-time jobs, they found themselves thousands of miles from home in unfamiliar terrain. Instead of everyday routines, they faced environments that demanded courage, discipline, and resnansibility far beyond their years.
beneath the uniform and the tances, they were still young men with who loved them, friends who knew ng before the war, and dreams that long before they ever put on a helmet.
f t e hat makes photographs like this so .
) mind us that behind every name ted to history was a real person.
T Co he who laughed, joked, wrote letters hon, and shared moments of friendship with ple beside him. Someone who once front ofa camera smiling, perhaps unaware of how important that single image would become years later.
th S

War is often described through strategies, battles, and timelines. But the human side of history is carried by individuals like this young men whose lives were part of something much larger than themselves.
When we look at images like this decades later, we're reminded that the cost of conflict is not measured only in statistics. It is measured in stories, families, and moments that ended far too son.
The smile in this photograph is a reminder of youth, of hope, and of a life that mattered.
And remembering that matters to0.
Because behind every unifornm is a person whose story deserves to be known and whose service deserves to be remembered.

In the sweltering heat of 1968, at the 12th Evacuation Hospital in Cu Chi, Lieutenant Gloria van Stratton was everyone's...
05/03/2026

In the sweltering heat of 1968, at the 12th Evacuation Hospital in Cu Chi, Lieutenant Gloria van Stratton was everyone's last piece of home.
Choppers thundered in day and night, unloading broken boys who screamed for their mothers.
Gloria met them with steady hands and that unforgettable smile - the one that cut through the smell of fear and exhaustion like sunlight through jungle canopy.
She held trembling soldiers, whispered prayers over boys who would never see twenty, and somehow found the strength to laugh with the ones who might. Between mortar rounds and triple shifts, she wrote letters home for those who could no longer hold a pen.
She wasn't just a nurse. She was hope in olive drab.
Gloria van Stratton gave her youth, her sleep, and pieces of her heart on that war-torn ground so others could live.
Today we remember and honor her with tears and gratitude.

On this day, 55 years ago, February 18, 1971, 21‑year‑old Specialist Five Dennis M. Fujii was already in the second year...
05/03/2026

On this day, 55 years ago, February 18, 1971, 21‑year‑old Specialist Five Dennis M. Fujii was already in the second year of his second tour in Vietnam, strapped into the crew chief seat of a UH‑1 Huey medevac helicopter roaring toward a hot landing zone in Laos.

He was assigned as crew chief aboard a helicopter ambulance with the 237th Medical Detachment, 61st Medical Battalion, 67th Medical Group, flying “Dust Off” missions to evacuate wounded allied troops from the battlefield.

Fujii’s crew was dispatched into Laos to rescue South Vietnamese and allied personnel cut off deep inside enemy territory during the ongoing fighting of Operation Lam Son 719.

On the first approach, intense small‑arms and anti‑aircraft fire ripped through the Huey’s airframe, forcing an emergency landing at LZ Ranger North, a South Vietnamese Ranger outpost surrounded by North Vietnamese positions.

During the chaotic touchdown, the helicopter crashed in the landing zone, its rotor blades shearing through the air just above the treetops, the airframe slamming hard into the ground and throwing Fujii and the crew into the mud, smoke, and gunfire.

The crash wounded Fujii but did not kill him, and he struggled clear of the wreckage while hot tracers and gr***de blasts stitched the area.

A second helicopter, the crew of which he knew, managed to land and load the rest of the downed aviators, but the enemy fire slapped the bird so hard that Fujii could not physically reach it before it had to lift off.

Rather than risk another crash by trying to force his way aboard, he waved the second helicopter off, sending it away from the landing zone to save the men already on board.

Left alone on the ground, Fujii quickly grabbed a radio, linked up with the South Vietnamese Rangers, and began treating their wounded with the medical supplies he had carried on the medevac run.

He worked through the night, moving from one foxhole to the next, applying bandages, checking pulses, and stabilizing casualties while rounds and mortars pounded the small perimeter.

On the night of February 19, the North Vietnamese launched a full‑scale assault on Ranger North, hitting the base with a reinforced enemy regiment backed by heavy artillery and machine guns.

The perimeter dissolved into a chaos of close‑in fire, gr***des, and tracer arcs crisscrossing the dark, with Ranger positions being overrun and retaken inch by inch.

Fujii secured a working radio transmitter, keyed the mic, and called in American helicopter gunships and nearby artillery to help the defenders hold the hill.

For over 17 consecutive hours, he repeatedly left the relative safety of his entrenchment, crawling and sprinting through open ground to get better lines of sight on enemy troop movements and to relay precise coordinates for air and artillery strikes.

Each time he stood up, enemy fire answered, stitching the dirt around him, kicking up clods and shattering trees, but he kept moving, adjusting targets and calling in rockets, cannon fire, and 105‑mm barrages.

At several points, the fighting came so close that he had to break off his radio calls, pick up a rifle, and fire directly at advancing enemy troops, laying down suppressive fire to keep them from overrunning his position.

Wounded, bleeding, and running on little food and no real rest, Fujii refused to retreat or surrender the hill, continuing to direct air support and treat the wounded as the enemy attempted wave after wave of assaults.

By the time darkness fell again on February 20, his own body was failing, his strength sapped by shock, fatigue, and blood loss, but he was still the only American on the ground, still the only one with the radio and the air‑control knowledge.

On February 22, after a series of failed attempts, a helicopter finally managed to land in the LZ long enough to pull him out of the perimeter, his legs almost gone from exhaustion and his uniform torn and soaked with blood.

Fujii was evacuated out of Laos, eventually making it to medical facilities in South Vietnam, where he survived the injuries and the ordeal.

For his conduct from February 18 to February 22, 1971, Fujii was initially awarded the Distinguished Service Cross, the Army’s second‑highest valor decoration, on March 20, 1971.

Years later, after a military review, his Distinguished Service Cross was upgraded to the Medal of Honor, the United States’ highest military award for valor.

On July 5, 2022, at the White House, President Joseph R. Biden personally presented the Medal of Honor to Specialist Five Dennis M. Fujii in a formal ceremony, draping the blue‑necked medal over his shoulders before the assembled dignitaries and family.

Dennis Fujii is still with us.

Paul “Bango” McLaughlin served with the 1st Battalion, 3rd Marines in Vietnam. He was wounded in action  during counter-...
05/03/2026

Paul “Bango” McLaughlin served with the 1st Battalion, 3rd Marines in Vietnam. He was wounded in action during counter-insurgency operations in Quang Tri Province.

Paul's Delta Company defended Hill 881 in some of the worst fighting in the Vietnam War during 1968. He sustained wounds in combat a second time, taking shrapnel to his eye.

Upon returning home, he joined both the Boston Fire Department and the Boston Police Department. In 2008, he retired as head of the Boston PD Bomb Squad after 30 years of service. Semper Fi Bango!

10/02/2026

I got over 950 reactions on my posts last week! Thanks everyone for your support! 🎉

My dad is my hero. He is suffering his 3rd and final battle with cancer. He has stage 4 metastasic squamous cell bone ca...
10/02/2026

My dad is my hero. He is suffering his 3rd and final battle with cancer. He has stage 4 metastasic squamous cell bone cancer. He has suffered chronic pain and PTSD since he came home from Vietnam. Prayers, good vibes, and suggestions for resources are always welcome.

"My Uncle Wes just died and I want to tell you something about him. I met my Uncle in 5th grade (1968) during Vietnam. M...
10/02/2026

"My Uncle Wes just died and I want to tell you something about him. I met my Uncle in 5th grade (1968) during Vietnam. My Dad was stationed on Pendleton and at the time the Marine Corps had a program where stateside Marines hosted Marines coming back from Vietnam who was convalescing here. My Uncle came back from Kke Sanh, he had shell fragments and bullet holes in his back and arms and as a child, I had never seen anything like that. My parents introduced him to my mom's sister and sOon after they were married. Uncle Wes did three tours and several purple hearts which he had framed in his house. He used to tell me stories of his time in Nam which I can't even repeat here. He kept his buddies Zippo who didn't make it back from there for years. He and my Dad inspired me to join the Marines. Uncle Wes Petersen, I know you are now guarding the streets of heaven and I miss you dearly. Semper Fi." John Shipley

This is my father he was a Vietnam vet he past in 2021. He love all his brother in arms he was a great man he serve in t...
10/02/2026

This is my father he was a Vietnam vet he past in 2021. He love all his brother in arms he was a great man he serve in the army. I know he was in the infantry might of been the 101st | know they were THE MAN CHUES might be wrong spelling.

59 years ago, February 1967. Because I had voluntarily extended my one-year tour in South Vietnam for an extra six month...
10/02/2026

59 years ago, February 1967. Because I had voluntarily extended my one-year tour in South Vietnam for an extra six months, I was home in San Jose, enjoying my free 30-day extension leave. That didn't keep me from catching news about what was happening in Vietnam, while I was home.

On 7 February, a platoon of Vietnamese deep in enemy controlled territory, led by 1LT George K. Sisler of Headquarters and Headquarters Company, 5th Special Forces Group, came under attack by a numerically superior company of enemy troops. They were attacked from three sides. Rallying and deploying his men, he then called for air support. Two men had been wounded, and unable to withdraw to the new perimeter. Learning of this, he ran through enemy fire to help them. While carrying one of them, he came under even more fire. He laid down the wounded man and killed three assaulting enemy personnel, then knocked out a machine gun crew with a gr***de.

Upon arrival at the perimeter, Sisler realized his unit was in danger of being overrun, grabbed some gr***des and charged, by himself, into the enemy, shooting and throwing gr***des. This act of heroism forced the enemy to withdraw. Later, while directing air support, he was mortally wounded. For his heroic action, which saved the lives of many of his men, 1LT Sisler was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor.

As usual, the unilateral four-day Tet period cease fire (0700 hours on 8 February, until 0700 on 12 February) was only adhered to by friendly forces. The enemy, on the other hand, used the cease fire to move men and supplies, almost at will. It also permitted them a means of surprising our forces. Also as usual, 272 incidents were reported during that time. 89 of those incidents were reported as significant, resulting in American casualties totaling 18 killed and 158 wounded, as well as 112 enemy KIA.

"Life has a certain flavor for those who have fought and risked all that the sheltered and protected can never experience." —John Stuart Mill.

I made a heavy “leaflet drop” (spent a lot of money) while I was in San Jose. I had told myself that I would spend no more than $100 a day during my leave. I did! I spent all $100 a day, $3000 total, but boy did I have fun. It sure felt different, not having to sleep with one eye open, no combat boots next to the bed ready for immediate insertion of feet for a mad dash to a combat position, not having to worry about ambushes or boobytraps, getting a home-cooked meal, going to movie theaters with large screens, etc., etc. It was an entirely different world, and I was in it.

While I was home, I introduced my father to a topless lunch and beer bar called the Ore House. I found out later that dad went there quite often for lunch after I went back to Nam. My mother was not too happy with me for showing him the place. I was shocked that he enjoyed the place so much. I always considered both mom and dad to be sooooo straight-laced and religious.

Once in a while I would hit the bar scene by myself, wearing my class A uniform and green beret, and sporting my new Staff Sergeant stripes and ribbons. I couldn’t buy a drink. I always had paid drinks waiting for me to finish the one I was working on. Thankfully, my Volkswagen bug had auto-pilot. I managed to stay out of trouble during my entire leave.

From my book #4 (“SLURP SENDS! A Green Beret’s Vietnam Experiences Book 4”), of my four-book set of “SLURP SENDS!” Books #1 (“SLURP SENDS! On Becoming a Green Beret Book 1”), #2 (“SLURP SENDS! Experiences of an A-Team Green Beret Book 2”), #3 (“SLURP SENDS! Experiences of a Green Beret Vietnam Veteran Book 3”), and #4 are available on Amazon, or from me.

I am proud to announce that all four of my books, as well as my collection of approximately 900 photos taken by me, my teammates, and friends were requested by, and are now in, the U.S. Special Operations Command (USSOCOM) HQ historical archives.

PHOTO: George K. Sisler, MOH Recipient (Online Image)

SLURP SENDS!

Honoring Navy Nurse Rae Mary Leff, a true hero of the Vietnam War. She joined the Naval Nurse Corps in 1952, inspired by...
10/02/2026

Honoring Navy Nurse Rae Mary Leff, a true hero of the Vietnam War.

She joined the Naval Nurse Corps in 1952, inspired by late-night TV ads while working pediatric nights.

Serving in New York, Guam, Japan, and Midway, Leff was drawn to Vietnam as the conflict escalated. Aboard the USS Repose hospital ship, she worked tirelessly in surgical and neurosurgical wards, saving lives amid constant stress.

By 1975, she rose to assistant chief nurse, learning to cherish life's basics. This hero passed away in 2018. God bless her forever.

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