Category: Real Soldiers

In the Huffington Post, they tell us that SGT Jacob Perkins, who we first discussed last July, was awarded the Soldier’s Medal and named “Soldier of the Year” for his actions on a lonely stretch of the New York Thruway while he was headed home on leave to Missouri earlier this year;

“When his life was on the line, he chose to do what most other normal human beings wouldn’t do,” Mark Milley, Commanding General, Fort Drum said at an awards event. “He ran into the back of a burning bus and saved people even though he stood a better than 50-50 shot of dying himself.”

The Canadian tour bus, carrying 53 passengers, had crashed into a tractor trailer and the driver of the tractor-trailer died. While 30 passengers from the tour bus were injured, no one on the tour bus was killed, thanks to Perkins’ actions, according to ABC.

Perkins told the interveiwer “It was nothing that soldiers don’t do everyday”.

This happened many years ago, in a faraway country.  It is not a parable.  It is a true story. Although it’s always worth remembering, a recent event IMO makes remembering it now vice on its anniversary apropos.

A Tall Man

It had been a long day already.  The tall man was tired.

He’d been flying for hours already, providing support for his fellow soldiers.  They were catching hell from the enemy.

The tall man was no longer a youngster.  In less than a week, he’d turn 38.

This wasn’t the first time he’d been to war.  In fact, this was the tall man’s third war.

As a youngster, he’d quit school at 17 to serve in World War II.  He served  in the Navy, on a fleet oiler – supporting strikes against Luzon and Formosa,  and operations at Iwo Jima, and at Okinawa.  He’d survived.  He’d seen Tokyo Bay after the surrender.

Then he came home and was discharged.  He  finished high school.  He married his girl.

But as a boy, he’d always wanted to be a soldier.  So he joined the Army after he finished high school.

The tall man had something special.  By late in the Korean War, he’d become a First Sergeant.  He saw more action, this time at Pork Chop Hill.  He survived again, receiving a battlefield commission afterwards.

The commission opened another door for the tall man – or so he thought.  Another of his boyhood ambitions was to be a pilot.  As an officer he could apply to go to flight school.  He applied.

The Army closed that door quickly, though; they turned him down.   He truly was a tall man.  At 6-foot-4,  they said he was “too tall” for pilot duty.

But a couple of years later, the door opened again.  Regulations had changed, and the tall man was no longer “too tall”.  (The nickname had already stuck, however, and would follow him for the rest of his career.)  He reapplied for flight school.  This time he was accepted.  He passed and became a pilot.

The tall man served in various dangerous assignments.   He flew mapping support missions over remote locations worldwide.  He made friends – one, in particular.   They eventually parted ways, but would meet again.

Eventually he ended up in Vietnam.  He also ended up working for an old snake – one he knew well.

(more…)

The North Country Times reports that Sgt. Ronny Pool and Staff Sgt. Javier Acosta, two marines who likely never met but each served in Afghanistan and Iraq without using their combat lifesaver training until a drive home last week brought them together over the broken body of motorcyclist Anthony Vaughn.

Pool also saw Vaughn lying in the road, realized he had a trauma kit in his truck and rushed toward the injured man.

“It was a gruesome scene,” said Pool, a Hemet resident and native of De Soto, Kan., who has been in the Marine Corps for eight years and served seven months in Iraq in 2008 and 12 months in Afghanistan in 2010.

“I immediately thought of the training we get. ‘Stop the bleeding. Start the breathing. Protect the wound. And treat for shock.’”

Pool couldn’t find a tourniquet in his trauma kit, so Acosta —- a 14-year veteran of the Marine Corps —- suggested he use his belt. Without thinking, Pool said, he ripped his government-issued MCMAP uniform belt off and tied it around Vaughn’s upper left leg.

At that point, two emergency-medical-technician students arrived and helped Acosta stabilize Vaughn’s neck and remove the motorcyclist’s helmet.

Mr. Vaughn is still alive thanks to the quick actions of the two Marines;

“I feel me and Sgt. Pool did save the individual’s life,” Acosta said. “Nobody was helping him out, and with the severity of the trauma, I believe he honestly could have died. I’m really thankful I had another Marine next to me with the same training.”

Added Pool: “That’s why I joined the Marine Corps, to serve my country and serve my community. It would be a shame if I had all this training and didn’t use it.”

Several weeks ago, TSO found this link about Ed O’Neal we all thought he was fake just from reading the narrative in the article. You tell me;

“I entered the military June 20, 1956 at the age of 17 and retired November 1, 1976, at the age of 37,” said O’Neal, who lives in Rockingham. “I have five and a half years of combat time in Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam. Once I was under fire for over 30 consecutive days.”

O’Neal’s dog, Airborne, looked up to her master as he spoke with a steady voice.

“I was promoted to 1st Sergeant in 10 years and later to Command Sgt. Major in 14 years. During that period of time, to accelerate that fast was unheard of,” he said.

O’Neal joined the Special Forces in the Army, completed Ranger school and was a HALO (High-Altitude, Low Opening) jumper. He was trained as a medic and helped people when he could. He also conducted missions in which he parachuted into enemy compounds at night to free American prisoners. O’Neal grew close to the Vietnamese people during the time he was there.

“I speak fluent Vietnamese,” he said. “I became somewhat adapted to the local environment, learning their taboos and customs.”

We see so many of these, that we get jaded sometimes. We got his records back today and Ed O’Neal is the real deal. Everything he says about his training and experience is true. I guess I could have said nothing and just let this one go by, but I figure we all need to be reminded that we shouldn’t jump to conclusions sometimes.

Personally, I’m proud to live in the same country as people like Ed O’Neal and we’ll always be grateful for that.

The folks at NRA’s Life of Duty sent us their video of country singer and former Mogadishu Ranger, Keni Thomas, who recounts that day, October 3rd, 1993, what he saw then and how it changed his life;

Ground troops often grouse – IMO with fair justification – about their Aviation brethren and about how “soft” an aviator’s life is by comparison to their own. But there is one part of the aviation community I doubt you’ll ever hear a Soldier or Marine – or Airman or Sailor, for that matter – disparage.

That would be MEDEVAC pilots and crew – AKA “Dustoff” in the Army (I believe the USAF equivalent is Pedro; not sure about Navy or USMC).  These guys and gals do things – and take chances – that make one sometimes question their common sense if not their sanity.

It’s risky as hell. They don’t always make it back.

Michael J. Novosel was a Dustoff pilot.  He had a very unusual career; for more details, see here and here.  Short version:  he served in the Army Air Forces in World War II, flying some missions over Japan near the end of the war.  After the war, he reverted to the USAF Reserve.  He was recalled to serve again in Korea, then again reverted to USAF Reserve status.

When Vietnam began to heat up, Novosel again volunteered.  This time, however, the USAF said no.  He was too old, and too senior, for the USAF’s needs.

The Army, however, would let him return to active duty and fly – as a Warrant Officer.  So Lt Col Michael J. Novosel, USAFR, became CW2 Michael J. Novosel, US Army.

Novosel served a tour of duty in Vietnam.  He returned stateside, and was diagnosed with glaucoma.  He convinced the Army to keep him on active duty, and to let him return to flying status.

That turned out to be two of the best decisions the Army ever made.

Novosel was promoted to CW3.  He returned to Vietnam for a second tour.

Novosel was no naive youngster at the time. At the time of his second tour, he was literally old enough (47) to be a grandfather.  Indeed, Novosel and his son were both Dustoff pilots, and served together in Vietnam at the same time. They share a rather unique distinction: each rescued the other within the space of a week by performing an emergency combat evacuation after the other’s bird was disabled during a mission.

On October 2, 1969, CW3 Michael J. Novosel, US Army, was a again flying Dustoff. On that day he performed acts of heroism for which he was later awarded the Medal of Honor.

The Citation for his Medal of Honor tells the story succinctly, but well.  More details can be found here, in the section entitled  “A Second Medal of Honor”, and in the first two links above.

Flying into a “hot” LZ once to pick up wounded, even once, takes Major-League guts. You know a priori that you’re going to take fire coming and going – and that you’re going to have to stay on the ground or at a low hover, completely exposed, long enough to take on wounded. Coming and going, you’ve got a good chance to get hit. On the ground or hovering, you’re a sitting duck.  And given the size of a UH-1 (the airframe used for Dustoff in 1969), you’re a damned large sitting duck – which burns like hell if it’s hit in a critical spot and catches fire.

To do that fifteen times during the same engagement, bringing out wounded each time, until you’re hit yourself and damn near end up among the dead . . . well, in my book that goes way beyond gutsy. In my book that’s truly “above and beyond the call of duty.”

CW4 Novosel retired in 1985.  At the time, he was the last military aviator from  World War II still on active flying status, and had accumulated 12,400 total flying hours (2,000+ in combat).   A street at Fort Rucker, Alabama (the home of Army Aviation) is named in his honor. This is particularly apropos, as Novosel chose to live out his later years in Enterprise, Alabama – just a few miles away.

Michael J. Novosel – Army officer and aviator extraordinaire, Dustoff pilot, and Medal of Honor recipient – passed away on April 2, 2006. May he rest in peace.

Thank you, my late elder brother in arms. Both for what you did, and for the example you were.

— — —

A personal postscript:  for years after Novosel had retired, I had friends and family in the Fort Rucker area, and visited I them once or twice a year.  Looking up Novosel and going over to Enterprise to  meet  him was something on my “to do” list.  The pace of life kept pushing the visit down the list, and I just never got around to doing that.  Now it won’t happen – in this life, anyway.   That’s something I’ll always regret.

If you have the opportunity, make it a point to meet one of the few surviving Medal of Honor recipients – if for no other reason than to say, “Thank you.”

 

Author’s Note: the original version of this article indicated that CW4 Novosel had received a second commission and retired as a Colonel.  This was incorrect.  Subsequent research on my part indicates that Novosel remained a CW4 until his retirement in 1985, and was almost certainly retired at his highest rank held (Lt Col).  I have seen references to “Colonel Novosel” in various documents.  However, I have been unable to yet determine if he also received an honorary promotion to Colonel on or after his retirement.

My apologies for the error.