Most of the Snake Platoon left Vietnam through Tan Son Nhut Airport outside of Saigon. The happiest time of the soldier’s tour began when his name was called to get in line to board the ‘freedom bird,’ a commercial airliner chartered by the military to ferry troops back and forth between the US and Vietnam. On the way through the terminal, the veterans were paraded past an ‘amnesty box’ where they could deposit drugs, weapons, or any other contraband they did not want to risk being caught with, thus being redirected to Long Binh Jail (LBJ). If it went in the box, there were no questions asked.
The attitude and mindset were far different on the return trip, of course, even for those who would be returning to Vietnam. As the doors closed, the plane was cleared for takeoff and it proceeded to gain speed on the ground, the excitement built. When the plane left the ground, pandemonium ensued, with cheering and loud applause. They had made it, but they knew of others who had not. This didn’t happen just once; this happened on every return trip. Following brief stops along the way at Tokyo, Okinawa, Guam, Hawaii, Alaska, or other places, the plane would typically land in the states for through-processing at Oakland Army Depot, California, or Fort Lewis, Washington. Eric Shervey says that on one stop at Anchorage, Alaska, they deplaned and walked across the tarmac. The temperature was 14 degrees below zero, at least 100 degrees lower than it had been when he left Saigon. At Oakland, returnees from Vietnam were offered a steak dinner, regardless of the time of day or night.
Today, soldiers returning from a combat zone are met by family and friends with signs and balloons to welcome them home. The whole family shows up at the airport. They make the television news when they show up (unexpectedly) in uniform at their children’s schools. Everyone in town is glad to see them. This is not the reception the Vietnam veterans received, especially towards the end of the war. We all but had to sneak into town. Dick Henson recalls that anyone flying out of San Francisco or Oakland was offered a bus ride to the PX to buy civilian clothing, as it was inadvisable to go through those airports in uniform. When we arrived in Vietnam, we deplaned to the cheers of all those guys preparing to board to go home – not so our return to the states.
Some were spit upon in the airport, they were chided as war criminals and ‘baby-killers,’ and some were physically assaulted. Even the American Legion and the VFW didn’t want us as members. The media had turned a large part of the country against the war in Vietnam and even against those who served. Hollywood portrayed us all as either drug-crazed or insane. The best reception that returning Vietnam veterans could honestly hope for in the latter years of the war was to be left alone.
Mike Thompson, returning from special leave, told us that a young lady who appeared to be all about peace and love had asked him in the O’Hare Airport in Chicago, “How many babies did you kill?” He got the best of her with his sardonic reply, though. “Only what I could eat, ma’am.”
Paige Sawyer recalls the final physical at Oakland for those returnees who were leaving the service that day. The doctor put a stethoscope to his chest almost long enough to detect a heartbeat. He then held three fingers right in front of his face and asked how many he saw. If he answered ‘three,’ he had perfect vision. I don’t recall that my exit physical was that thorough. I believe some guy had a form and, without more than casually glancing in my direction, marked everything with a ‘1.’ Perfect health. That would not go far to support a future claim to the VA of a service-connected disability.
Bill Fraley was concerned at one point that he would not make it home. As his ‘freedom bird’ approached the runway in Manila, the pilot announced that the power was out on one side of the plane and he could not be certain that the landing gear was down. He had everyone sit in the crash position with their heads between their knees and arms over their heads. (Does that really work?) The gear was down, though, and the landing was smooth.
Bill also tells us that when they arrived at Oakland, an officer came on board to debrief the returnees about what they would be doing and what they should expect. His final comment was, “One last important thing. As soon as you have deplaned be sure to change out of your uniforms because you do not want to be caught outside the terminal in uniform.” Yeah, welcome home, guys.
The pilot of the freedom bird Steve Rollins was on announced, as he approached the runway in California, that his hydraulic system was failing and they would have no brakes when they landed. They used every last foot of the runway to stop. ‘It ain’t over ‘til it’s over,’ Steve. You received hazardous duty pay for the whole month.
Dick Henson shared that he was the only one in uniform on the flight from San Francisco to Boston, and the stewardess moved him up to the first-class section. That happened to me as well on the day I left the service. There were three of us in the back of the plane from San Francisco to DC in uniform – me, a sailor, and a marine. A stewardess came back and asked us if we ‘would mind’ moving to first-class to balance the plane for takeoff. We were pleased to help her out. After takeoff, she left us there, served us a good meal with a choice of wine, and refills. She explained that if we mixed the Burgundy with the champagne, we would get something new called ‘Cold Duck,’ so we tried that too (all the way to DC). [Before you complain, I know they are now ‘flight attendants.’ At that time, though, they were ‘stewardesses.’]
For Chui Banuelos, the abuse started before he could even get out of the company area. When they were still the 7th RRU in Saigon, Chui was going on R and R to Tokyo. The First Sergeant handed him 50 dollars to buy a Mikimoto pearl necklace for his wife. While on R and R, Chui was enjoying the sights and was about out of money when he remembered the necklace. When he got back to Saigon, he borrowed 50 dollars to return to the First Sergeant, who found out what had happened and put Chui on KP (all of the other KP’s were Vietnamese employees). Soon, the unit became the 101st and Chui was off to Pleiku, away from the First Sergeant. At the end of his tour he processed out of the company at Davis Station and the First Sergeant told him to “Get (redacted) out of here!” Chui asked how he was going to get to the Replacement Depot at Long Binh and was told, “You figure it out.” It sounds like this was self-inflicted, Chui. So, Chui picked up his duffle bag, caught a ‘dog cart’ to the gate and hitch-hiked to Long Binh, where some friends in the 3rd Platoon gave him a ride to the Replacement Depot.
Chui said that after his 2 A M steak and eggs breakfast at the Oakland Army Depot, part of his through-processing was a lecture by a chaplain. Apparently, the chaplain, too, had a low opinion of returning Vietnam veterans. He advised them all to respect women and not to urinate in the streets.
For years, we did not openly discuss Vietnam. We didn’t want the hassle that it was almost certain to bring. Even when we did begin to talk, it was only with each other. We often hear that ‘so-and-so’ never talks about the war, whichever war he happens to have taken part in. That may be because of deep-seated emotions, regrets or painful memories, but it may also be because he believes that nobody who wasn’t there can truly relate.
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