The United States deposed Panama’s Manuel Noriega 24 years ago tomorrow morning in what was known as Operation Just Cause. ROS sends us a link from Stars & Stripes in which the commander of the 82d Airborne Division claims that it would be much more difficult for his unit to mount an operation like that today;
Today’s force simply isn’t as prepared as it needs to be for such a mission, officials said. Most air crews don’t have sufficient training, and there are not enough paratroopers in each unit to fill key roles like jumpmasters.
“An operation like Panama or Haiti — we would be hard pressed to do today,” said Maj. Gen. John W. Nicholson, commander of the 82nd Airborne Division.
Nicholson said America’s ability to respond to any crisis in the world had suffered because of the focus on those wars but added that the division had a renewed emphasis on its role as the United States’ Global Response Force.
The Global Response Force must be ready to deploy within 18 hours and must be prepared for any number of combat or humanitarian scenarios.
Despite the emphasis, work is still needed, he said.
Only a quarter of air crews are qualified for such a mission, Nicholson said, and the division still needs more jumpmasters and soldiers certified to deal with hazardous materials in each unit.
“We’re not there yet as a joint team,” Nicholson said.
General Nicholson goes on that the whole operation was “muscle memory” because the units involved had trained for such a mission so often that it was just a series of properly executed battle drills. It was the same with Desert Storm. The reason the ground war only lasted 100 hours is because the war was just like a Table XII gunnery exercise at Grafenwoehr with fewer trees. Training won wars and advanced politicians’ policies. Training is the most important thing that troops do – because sweat in training saves blood in combat. I’m pretty sure that our next enemy won’t clear with our commanders the next time and place they’ll strike.
Not sure how “hazmat” got involved in being a crucial part of readiness,,,,, just saying.
The 82nd ABN portion of the Airborne assault on Panama was a joke. A Bde (-) jumped in up to 6 hrs after the DZ was secured by the Rangers with the Division and Corps Commanders and their staffs. It would been more tactical to just airland and walk off the birds. Somebody just wanted a mustard stain on their wings.
I remember doing airborne airport seizure operations ten years before Just Cause with the 82d. It’s what they trained for, they deserved the opportunity to do just one real op.
I had a PSG that was in the 82d during Just Cause. He told me that his plane landed and they all just walked out.
The Airborne Operation was delayed due to weather conditions in North Carolina, as well as the fact they pushed up the jump off time due to word getting out that the invasion was coming. It was not a Brigade(-) as the 4/325th jumped in to make up for the Bn from the 504th that was on the ground already in Panama.
I would not call it a joke… I suppose they could have just landed the planes like they did in Grenada, and had a total clusterfuck.
That said;
In the years leading up to Just Cause, the 82d drilled the shit out of Airfield Seizures. We practiced them constantly. Wheteher it was rehearsing for Panama, or for Honduras, or some other contingency, we became damned good at Night Combat Equipment Jumps and seizing the objectives on and off the DZ.
Muscle Memory is everything.
Hazardous materials?
Crude petroleum – it looks like water if it’s in a pool, and is extremely toxic.
Radiation exposure from stolen radioactive materials and dirty bombs.
Various kinds of nerve gas and other toxic materials – e.g., sarin, mustard gas, a mix of two common household products, ricin.
Contaminated water supplies – corpses thrown into streams, rivers or open bodies of water, among other things.
Those are just a few examples. I’d want someone in my group who knows the ropes on that stuff. Makes sense to me.
I remember it well…….
No Shit, there I was….trying to get home from a month at NTC, all the married guys with kids were getting pretty antsy to make it back before Christmas after having the OPFOR kick the shit out of us for a month. All of a sudden, after getting our bags palletized, in steps an Air Force Colonel to let us know we just invaded Panama and all aircraft were being re-routed in support, he had no idea how long we would be stuck there but at least I was on the baggage detail with my bags, everyone else was held up at Ft. Irwin with no sleeping bags, shaving kits, etc…
Ex-PH2, The Hazmat people that he is talking about don’t do the kind of things you are talking about. Those are specialized jobs. The ones at unit level learn how to mark and transport Hazmat.
@5, Can it really be a combat jump when the airfield is already secured and the ash and trash from Division and Corps are jumping with you? Don’t recall seeing those guys while refining my muscle memory. Sorry, but there’s gotta be an asterisk next to the mustard stain.
I suppose you can place all the asteriks you like beside it, and no argument about guys getting bumped for someone from Division HQs to take their spot… that does not negate the fact that the 1st lift of 82d Troops were dropping in 1 hour after the initial Assault by the Rangers(only 15 minutes behind schedule), and the Rangers were still securing the objectives inside the airport when the final lifts from Bragg had landed. As well as there being sporadic but persistant shooting on the DZ throughout the drops.
Back in December 1989…Noriega was out of time! (That was the start of a running cadence of choice when I attended Airborne School in 1991 & most of the Black Hats were Just Cause vets eff me if I can remember the rest of it. Remember being in awe of those guys with CIBs and mustard stains but I was just a nasty leg MS1 ROTC cadet at the time)
@7- Dust Bowl/Ft. Irwin in December is a shitty time to be stuck out there with no sleeping bag, snivel gear, shaving kits, etc.- sure paid to be on that baggage detail! (for once)
A dispute among drug dealers bush vs noriega on cia’s cut in selling dope to black school children! Google cia drug dealing for details also (you will like this) mena arkansas airport and bill clintons involment in cia drug dealing. I guess the cia forgot nancy reagans advice “JUST SAY NO! to drug dealing.
@ 1: Hazmat must be properly identified before being loaded on Air Force and commercial transports. This includes fuel, oils, munitions and a bunch of other war fighting materials.
Many logistics reasons for doing so, especially if passengers or troops are being transported as you don’t want somebody to have access to and pull the wrong pin or something. Plus you got to worry about theft of the hazardous stuff during the loading and unloading process. Lots of reasons as movement of the ground fighting capability isn’t always connected to an airborne assault or an air field assault landing of the aircraft.
Also vaporization and expansion of vapor at altitude is a concern if Hazmat fluids (fuels for example) are not [packed correctly for exposure to altitude).
This is related to the discussion, and is the first hand account of a friend of mine who was just a young pup Paratrooper. It is long, but well worth the read, and I think he deserves a bit of recognition…
Airborne! All the Way!
Edward L. VanVickle
OPERATION JUST CAUSE
On this day 14 years ago a young low speed, low drag, PFC with C-Company 1/504 made a jump into combat with many other troopers of America’s Guard of Honor, the 82nd Airborne Division. This is his account of the event.
Dec. 17th, 1989: While sitting in my meager apartment in Fayetteville N.C. watching the nightly news with then wife and putting my daughter to sleep. We were having the discussion of my mother joining us for Christmas when a news piece came on about the happenings in the Republic of Panama. She had asked me about going to the Airport to pick her up. After the news piece I simply replied, “If I am still here and not in Panama! She came back saying that, “Let’s hope that doesn’t happen; I don’t want to talk or think about that.”
Dec. 18th 1989: It was approximately 0900 ET. The Battalion had assembled to hear the SGM’s idea on Christmas money that the Battalion had, and how to go about spending it for the Battalion Christmas party. At just about the same time the phone in the 1st BN 504th PIR HQ building rang. It was the Brigade SDO. 1SGT Duhon was in the Battalion HQ and he was the one that came out an interrupted the SGM, “SGM I am sorry to interrupt but they JUST CALLED IT!
N Hour was 0900!! SGM looked out at his already speculating Battalion and told them to report back to the Company areas and start the N Hour sequence. Most of us were positive we knew what was going on. We had a date with history. Our Commander and Chief had sent us a personal invitation to an “Ass Kicking Christmas Party” in the Republic of Panama!
Dec. 18th through the 19th 1989: There was so much going on: the formations, the Op Orders, FRAGOs, rehearsals that to be able to recount it all would be very difficult. However, two things stick out in my mind the most were when:
They started cutting regular grunts off the manifest so that a whole bunch of clerk-jerk officers in Division could get a mustard stain on their wings. I was one of the soldiers cut. I gave up my 203 and all my ammo to the guys going. I do remember while in the line drawing ammo, that one soldier made the remark that the op had been cancelled. I looked at him laughing and said, “They are giving us live ammo dumbass you really think it’s cancelled?” What idiots some of them seemed to be, and
My low speed low drag yet gung-ho self was no longer ready to go kill-a-commie-for-mommy, and was horrified at the thought of dying or killing someone. I went and talked it over with the Chaplin, I don’t recall his name but he showed me a verse in the bible about going to war where taking a life in that type of act was not going to get you sent to hell. I was on my way there as it was; I didn’t want a ticket to hell in the afterlife also.
I was terrified myself but going through the motion like a good troop. After about 3 hours of waiting they had started pre-jump. There was a SSG that came into the hut there at that PHA (the old one across from Green Ramp some of you might recall it). He stated that they had slots for 4 or 5 troopers, if I recall correctly: I just know I heard they had slots and I was in my gear and out the door. I was the first one that was cut to get back on the manifest. (There is an irony in that towards the end)
We loaded the planes, loose rigged, as it was a long flight, I swear my ruck must have weighed 200 lbs. OK, so it wasn’t that big but it sure felt like it. I had nothing but a pair of BDU bottoms, PVS4, wet weather top, poncho, poncho liner, 4 MREs, 6 bandoleers of 5.56 (not counting the 260 5.56 rounds I was carrying on my LBE. Yeah – basic and then some, it paid to have gotten those extra magazines), 18 extra HE DP rounds for my M203 (yes I still had 24 in vest) with 4 star clusters for it, 3 smoke grenades, a parachute flare, a LAW, and lastly, a M17 Claymore. Add my Combat medic bag to this as I was certified in Combat Lifesaver – of course I was pretty weighted down.
TOT was supposed to be 0145201289. I was chalk 9: it just so happened that my chalk’s bird was deiced as the 3rd plane by the way they were set up on the tarmac. So off we go. The plane ride was uneventful for the most part, I was just glad to get in and get set down an up in the air as it was a COLD Son of a Bitch that night when we loaded the birds. It was 17° F in NC, and icy, we get deployed and it starts spitting ice go figure. So I am sitting there beside another of my platoon’s squad members. BIG old huge corn-fed, hunchback of Notre Dame looking guy, he is jumping the dragon night-site in. The dude would NOT shut the fuck up. He was whining and crying about not wanting to go, I finally had had enough. I slapped him, well I had “finally had enough” two more times before we went out the door. I was ready to shoot him before we could even get into combat. I was to mad at his whining to be scared. Fact was though, I was kind of grateful I didn’t have time to be scared, or not think about it I should say, because my pucker factor was MINUS 100. You couldn’t have fit a strait pin up my ass. Needless to say though, the plan never goes as planned. I awoke from a short nap at 0140 and got real freaked thinking DAMN HERE WE go… we didn’t jump, I got hopeful it was called off, no such luck. 0145 came and went, and still not even standing up or a 20 minute warning.
Finally, at about 0150, they start screaming for us to wake up, then it was the normal jump commands but not near as much time in between them as usual. We stood though for what seems like hours, we had gone through all the commands and were just standing there, then we started hearing light sounds fairly spaced out then we realized it was incoming rounds hitting the aircraft. I have never wanted out of any bird so bad in my life – minus the one that had more turbulence than I have ever seen and the fact I was stressed because I was going home for my father’s funeral. Now I was stressed and scared shitless. The doors were half opened and you could feel the hot air blowing back past yourself. I was glad after feeling the warm air that I had followed my orders and taken off the Poly Pro so I wouldn’t die from heat exhaustion. I had enough to worry about I didn’t need to worry about that too.
Finally the doors fly open and I swear, no sooner than they were up the green light was on, I get to the door an exit like an old pro. I look up check my chute: we have canopy and no broken suspension lines. I looked to see the birds and their direction of flight so I could get my bearings as for being on the drop zone. I notice that there are only three planes, I double checked and sure enough only three out of the 20 personnel aircraft there were supposed to be. I started freaking thinking that the Rangers hadn’t completed their mission and they got shot down.
I look down to check my decent and hit the ground like sack of bricks, ruck still on and all. I can see the fires on, what I assumed, was the drop zone and knew that I wasn’t on it. I had landed (by looking at the planes direction of travel) just outside the fence. WRONG! I didn’t even get out of my harness before I put my rifle into operation, I had a twenty round magazine and had put it in so I wouldn’t have to dig for one after I landed. I locked and loaded and then got out of my harness. I start to climb the fence that is about ten feet high. I hear something behind me. So I climb back over the fence hoping that it is another American soldier. I waited and listened. I saw and noticed a building just outside of the elephant grass so I moved to the edge to see what all was out there.
A road, a three story building an a small shack to my front, and two more three story buildings to my left and another road with a fence between me and the building. I listened for a while longer and could hear something to my left. I slowly moved towards it, I would low crawl then move my ruck for cover and wait a moment before I moved again. Finally I was at the edge of the road and I could see the fence on the other side of the road: it was small and I could almost make out a figure or figures they were doing something. I couldn’t understand what they were saying or what language they were using. I held my breath and gathered as much courage as I could.
I jumped up out of the ditch I was in and bounded across the road behind a log for cover. You could have heard a pin drop; I even blocked out the sound of gunfire explosions behind me on the airfield. I gave the challenge; there was silence for what seemed like hours, finally there was a reply of the proper password. Another long silence. After what seemed like an eternity we all started breathing again. I moved forward and found out there were two of them, one a 82nd MP, and one from 4/325. I pulled out my leather man and helped them cut the fence so they could get out to my side. They had both landed on top of the building there and had to climb down their reserve chutes.
We started to move out and heard movement coming up the road. We all dove for the ditch and waited in a hasty ambush. As they approached we could see they were American: four more of us; now we are at 7. There was a corporal from my Battalion’s A-Company. He had a map and a compass. Thank God he came along I was going to head us off in the wrong direction.
We moved out, the seven of us, in a small wedge formation. We had to go all the way around to main entrance to get in to and on to the drop zone. You see the great pilots we had dropped us 7 kilometers off of the DZ. Such great guys let me tell you, but it made for a nice scenic stroll around and through the jungles just outside of the airport. The Corporal informed us that the reason we only saw 3 planes was that when we were departing the birds had ice on the wings, and they only had one deicer at Pope. We had got off the ground in groups of three and four.
We kept picking up others from all the units that had jumped in with us. We had a few small fire fights along the way but luckily for me I was too far back in the now huge wedge to see any of it. I heard it and dropped like everyone else waiting to have to flank or be shot at but it never came. I was thankful, as gung-ho-kill-a-commie-for-mommy as I once was, now that it was here I wasn’t as gung-ho as I had thought. As a matter of a fact I was terrified. I kept thinking to myself about the Op Order: we were to move out on an Air Mobil to Tinajitas at H+2, Hit time plus two hours that is. I think that is how it was worded. I just knew that I was going to miss the assault with my unit. On one hand I was glad, on the other I didn’t want to let my fellow troopers down and not be there for them with my 203 if it was needed or my aid bag if necessary.
We walked for what seemed like days when in all actuality it was only about 4 hours from the time we started the journey. As we entered the main gate to the airfield I realized there had to have been over 150 of us in that group. I was relived to think we had ended up with enough to handle anything that had been thrown at us. I looked for the assembly area and moved out at a double time with that huge ruck on my back. As I approached the assembly area I see my Squad Leader, SSG Smooly talking to Sgt Young, my Fire Team Leader. Sgt Young looks up sees me coming an in his most sarcastic voice, “Nice of you to join us, glad you could make it”. I dropped to a knee beside him huffing and puffing from the run with all that weight. He looked at me took a quick inventory of sensitive items and reported to SSG Smooly that I was in and the Squad was now at 100% and all sensitive items were accounted for. Sgt Young told me to drop my ruck grab my Aid bag, 2-quart canteen, LAW, extra ammo, claymore, and NODS, then to assemble with them as fast as possible as we were moving out NOW! I could see most of the platoon moving towards the Black Hawks assembled on the Airfield already running just waiting on its cargo, Us.
I dropped my ruck, grabbed my NODS, Aid Bag, extra bandoliers of 5.56, 2-quart canteen, LAW, and an extra MRE. I ran for the Black Hawks as my Pilot was already loading up. Just as I loaded myself on the bird I was sitting beside the right side door gunner I put the latch up the safety strap we lifted off. There were 24 of us packed in to that bird, we did the combat load, there were no seats and my feet were dangling out the door.
The door gunner tapped me, stated that the LZ was clear, and smiled. The Panamanians were waving at us and cheering as we flew to the next objective – Tinajitas, the 1st infantry compound. C-company was to be the support by Fire Company while A-company was the assault and B-company was in the reserve. Our secondary mission was to take the objective if needed.
We flew for what seemed like forever. Finally the door gunner tapped me, made the sign for two minutes out, and motioned for me to let the others know. I started passing the word when I heard a sound the reminded me of hail hitting a hot tin roof like the one on our shed and barn on the farm I grew up on in Kansas. Then again, and again! All at once the door gunner opened up fire with the M60; he started screaming that the LZ was hot. The incoming small arms fire was growing the closer we got to the LZ. We started going down a hell of a lot faster, the door gunner motioned for me to exit. I grabbed the safety strap and jumped.
I landed with a thud like I had just done another jump from 490 feet but without a parachute this time. I looked back to see the Black Hawk finally landing. I had jumped just a little bit early we had to have been at the least 15 feet off the ground. My knees were sore as hell but that was the least of my worries as we had small arms fire and incoming arty.
Once we were all on the ground and dispersed the choppers began to take off. I heard a scream from behind me and looked back to see the chalk in front of us still mostly on the ground and not moving out, and there was a problem. The Black Hawk that was lifting off was almost pointing strait down the LZ – tail high in the air, it came closer to SSG Copening, who was the Mortar Platoon Sgt. The front landing wheel hit him right on the head and he fell like a rock. About that time I heard more small arms fire and the call to move forward so I wasn’t able to look anymore.
We moved forward just a bit more in an On Line Movement. There was a scream from the A-company line that was to our left, for a medic. We told them the medic was still behind us so they asked for a combat lifesaver, being the closest, SSG Smooly told me to move out and go help. I arrived just about the time our actual medic arrived. I was much relived as I saw a young PFC with a head wound that I knew there was nothing my minor knowledge was going to help. Doc told me he had it and to go back to my Squad.
I looked up that hill that was to our support-by-fire position and my stomach dropped to my feet. I started up it and thought there was no way in hell we were going to get up it without getting slaughtered. We started taking sniper fire from the road behind us; we started to return fire but were told to cease fire as we did not have permission to fire back.
We moved as best we could IMTing up the hill from rock to rock. I passed a guy from 2nd Squad, the same guy I slapped the hell out of on the bird in – go figure. He was behind a rock that was 4 times smaller than he was. I stopped for a moment and noticed he was crying; my first thought was that he was hit. He was just horrified so I grabbed his ass by his LBE suspenders an drug him up the hill with me. That was not a fun trip, unable to return fire, dragging a 230 pound man up with me. I was laying about ¾ of the way up the hill – I was behind a nothing rock not far from the commander’s RTO. He was still screaming into the radio for permission to return fire. He was cussing the sniper that was taking shots at the two of us: it appeared, as close as the rounds were coming, that he was either a poor shot or just playing, as I was getting dirt on my face they landed so close but never hit, nor was he. Finally he started screaming as the Sgt above us said he could see him. I heard the words of SPC James Prince ring loud and clear, “Sgt Conden – you see that son of a bitch? SHOOT THAT MOTHER FUCKER!!! FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!” The sniper fire stopped for the time being and we made the top of the hill.
We set in and started to lay down suppressive fire. As I was firing a few rounds I looked and could see something just under my rifle barrel. I stopped firing and noticed that it was a Kevlar of one of our own. I started giving the sign and screaming to cease fire as I had just noticed that A-company was in our direct line of fire. If we had kept firing we would have had a major fratricide incident. I was laying there not firing as I didn’t want to shoot one of our own and we couldn’t move right any farther. We started taking more sniper fire. We all kept trying to find where it was coming from. I heard movement from behind me and looked up to see boots. Yes boots, someone was standing beside me where I lay. I looked up to see SGM O.R. Hoggard, our Battalion SGM, he was a hard core old Nam Vet. He looked down at me and smiles, “HEY, short round, (I am all of 5’ 2½” on a good day wearing boots so this was his nickname for me) what be happening there HOOAH?” I freaked, “SGM you better get down – there is sniper out there.” I have to laugh even today, SGM looks at me and laughs, “Shit HOOAH I did tours in NAM they didn’t get me then they ain’t gonna get me now. Now I think back on it and he was either all hard core or just flat crazy, however this is the man that walked point in NAM for his LRRS team because he enjoyed it.
I look back and think about it, I recall them calling in air support for us but not knowing it and all at once a fast mover came over head and dropped bombs danger close. We were all trying to dig foxholes to hide in with our Kevlars; the thing was they were still on our heads. Finally they told us it was ours and we started to breathe again. I, however, can’t remember if that was before or after finding that A-company was in front of us. I just know I was scared as scared can be.
We sat there for several hours waiting and watching. We could see the civilians moving around where two PDF soldiers were laying dead. The kids kept trying to approach them and pick up the weapons. We would scream at them not to get there. One of the guys in my squad was Hispanic and was telling them in Spanish not to touch the weapons or bodies. After a while we got the order to put a few rounds into the ground where the weapons lay. They stopped trying to get close to them after that.
The PDF were driving around the roads in trucks with machine guns mounted in the back. They would traverse the road and take shots at us. I had a LAW and was close so the LT called for our squad to send someone over with it, I got there and he told me to take a seat and wait for them. They went by a few times but I never got a clear shot at them. Finally my Squad Leader came over and got the LT to let me go back to my place on the line and just leave the LAW for the guys in the position where they had a shot. SSG Smooly was not happy the LT had let me set there and try to take the shot as we needed the people in our squad so we could all get food, pull weapons maintenance, and take a break.
We finally got the word to move out and take the hill, A-company was worn out and they had lost two men on the move in so they called on C-company to finish the mission. We moved up the opposite side of the hill that they were to move up. We had our 1st platoon move up all the way and secure the buildings. The rest of the Company moved up to the top of the hill via the road. That was just as bad as IMTing up the hill under fire as it was just as steep. I thought I would die and my Squad Leader and Team Leader screamed at me the whole way to keep up. I would have rather IMTd up it as for me it was easier than trying to keep up with the fast walk up the hill.
We topped the hill pretty late in the afternoon; we sat in to start digging in positions to defend the hill against a counter attack. I was with Schaffer, HAHAHAHAHA Schaffer; I have to laugh to this day when I think about him. I was Pickle to him; later on I happened to see him while attending PLDC in Graf Germany, and he still was calling me Sgt Pickle. When we were digging I pulled the first security on our position while he dug. He was digging and he stops for a moment. “Hey Pickle? You know I saw you walking up to the assembly area and I could only think about how you being so short looked like a Kevlar and a ruck sack, like a turtle with its head out, yeah that what you looked like, a turtle.” We both laughed. As bad as the cut was I even had to admit it was funny.
They dropped a round at about 1700 at the very bottom the hill – that was it, no other rounds. Then another came at 1800, it was farther up, once again the only round. Then at 1900 hours it was more than ¾ of the way up the hill. I was digging my ass off and it was 2000, it came and went and we didn’t even notice. Well I hadn’t anyway, Schaffer hollers back, “Hey Pickle, what time is it?” I stopped digging to look at my watch, “10 after 8 man, why?” I heard him laugh, “Damn they missed the every hour on the hour, and it should have been on top of us.” I shook my head and raised my E-Tool took another swing in to the rock we were digging in. Just as fate would have it, I hit the ground with the E-Tool and there was a bright flash of light.
The next thing I know is I can hear screaming, “INCOMING” from all around us, I don’t have any idea how many rounds fell; I was lying in Schaffer lap, “Hey Pickle you ok?” I took a quick inventory of myself: my first thought considering how far I had been thrown was that I had taken a sniper round in my back and it had hit my 203 vest. I told him I was fine and that I was ok, I started to get up, I felt something running down my back, I reached back an felt something on my hand, I pulled it up to my face as close as I could but couldn’t see, “Schaffer, hey man check out my back, there is something on it.” He turned me around and I heard this, “HOLY SHIT YOUR HIT!” I instantly freaked out and went into immediate shock. I took off running towards the buildings. They told me later on that I had cleared the car bar that was there to keep them going over the cliff; they said they don’t know how as it looked like I didn’t even jump it. Schaffer ran behind me and grabbed me by the shoulder spun me around and slapped me to calm me down. He got me setting down and pulled the hunk of shrapnel from my back. I instantly started coughing, and I was coughing up blood, I knew what that meant, I was trained in sucking chest wounds. Schaffer put his hand on it until the Doc arrived and took care of me, they got me on a litter and carried me to the Company CP where the other wounded were at.
The COs RTO was my neighbor in Fayetteville; his wife was my daughter’s baby sitter even. I called to him, I did the whole thing of, “Tell my wife I Love her and my baby. Tell her daddy is sorry he won’t be home for Christmas.” Top Allen heard me and came over telling me to “shut the fuck up there PFC, you’re not going to die.” That didn’t help, but I still shut up.
The finally got all the Battalion’s wounded together and got the birds in where they could evacuate us all. About the time they were carrying me to the bird we got more incoming rounds. They dropped me, right by the bird’s door. It started to lift off and the Crew Chief looked out and saw me reaching up for it, he got them to set back down and he got me on.
From there we went to Howard for the main Army Field hospital. When we got there they took me right past triage and into the main tent. They started to rip off all my clothes and boots, I went NUTS, those were brand new jungle boots, and there was no-way were they going to cut them off. As mad as he was, the Doc had them cut just the laces and when I left there; my boots were between my feet. Yes I still have them to this day. They have been to Panama, Saudi Iraq, and all over Europe. I wouldn’t get some rest like the good Sgt told me too – that was the medic in the Evacuation tent. I was scared I wouldn’t wake up, so he gave me good drugs. The next thing I knew I was waking up and all I could see was black, then I started to see a red light, then all at once a bright light above me, my first thought was that I had died, then I swear to this day I saw an angel. It however turned out to be a very hot looking female LT who noticed I was awake. I was on a C130 bound for San Antonio, Texas.
Once in Texas I wouldn’t let the Doc’s do anything to me until I had a phone and got to call my wife. She was still at work and I was able to reach my mother. I was home by Christmas Eve of that year arm in a sling and nursing half a lung missing. I went back to the hospital at Ft Bragg the day after Christmas for more surgery. The next day I was home relaxing and the phone rang, I answered it, the voice on the other end was very puzzled so it seemed and asked for Mrs. Edward VanVickle, called to the ex and told her it was for her. I heard her answer several questions, she comes back in and hands me the phone, says “Here he wants to talk to you, he doesn’t believe me that you are you.” So I answered the nice Sgt questions. It was the Army calling to tell my wife I had been wounded.
That Ladies and Gentlemen is my story about our adventure south to Panama for Operation Just Cause in Dec. 1989.