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Chuck Gregoire, Michelle Baugh and Richard Githens "Together in Peace"
BUILDING
BRIDGES
If I close my eyes and concentrate, I can still hear it - the sea roaring far into the horizon. I can feel the salty breeze blowing my hair, the rain warm on my face and the white sand warm beneath my feet. If I try I can go back again. Let me take you back, thirty-one years ago. It was the spring of 1968- May 29 1968 to be exact. During a search and destroy mission Sp4 Richie Githens of A Co., 1/12 Cavalry Regiment, 1st Cavalry Division, came across an enemy bunker, in the remote village of Thon Gia Dang in Quang Tri province. My dad had volunteered to search the bunker and after fragging in the typical manner, crawled through the entrance only to discover a VC soldier shielded from the explosive, by a wall built within the bunker. He was shot twice and died instantly. At that moment my life changed forever. I was three months old, with no father and no memories of him to comfort me over the next twenty years. I grew up in a fantasy world where my father was a dashing figure - more fiction than fact. He could climb any mountain, slay any dragon that dare cross my path. I dreamed one day the mistake would be corrected and he would come back, magically undoing all the pain that I had buried deep in my heart. He would beg my forgiveness for being away so long and of course I would give it. After all, he was my hero, my knight in shining armor, and having his love and acceptance meant more to me than life itself. I waited long years for this scenario to unfold, but as I grew and matured I knew in my heart there had been no mistake. My Dad was dead and nothing I did would ever change that although I never stopped wishing. As I approached my twentieth birthday a fear settled over me, I was going to outlive my father and what knowledge of this noble, heroic man would I pass on to my children? I knew what he looked like; I had every picture my mother had ever given me. I bought every book, watched every movie and learned as much as I could about the Vietnam War as if that would bring me closer to him, to help me know the real man, and not just a character in a story. Fate intervened in December of 1988 and I received news that a man had called my father’s family, saying he had been with Dad when he died. I left school for the day and began my search. By that evening I had the name and phone number of a man who had shared my father’s final moments. I called and spoke with his wife, who assured me that although he was not home at the time he would be very happy to hear from me. He called the next afternoon and we talked for hours. He was a man shouldering an enormous burden of survivor guilt. It was Charles Gregoire, who had pulled my father out of that bunker, held his lifeless body in his arms, and baptized him in his own blood. As painful as all this was to hear, I also felt the stirrings of a brand new emotion, a sense of relief, born from the knowledge that my father did not die alone, but in the arms of a brother who loved him enough to see his soul to heaven. Along with this knowledge came the stories - ones that told of the happy times that Chuck and Dad had together. True, their exploits were not the most noble, some barely legal, but they opened my eyes to a man - no, to men who were just boys trying to make the best out of a situation that was the worst they would see in their young lives. It made me happy to know Chuck had good memories of Dad, ones that would hopefully, over time, crowd out the bad ones. Chuck was and is a great comfort to me; it is he I turn to when the ache of missing Dad becomes almost unbearable. In 1999 I was asked to speak to the Illinois State Vietnam Veterans of America Council about my Dad and my experience as a member of the Sons and Daughters In Touch. Never, have I experienced such love and understanding as I did from this group. They had been where I’d been, they too, missed my father and all the other men who died in their arms and in front of their eyes. They understood when I spoke of clinging to the hope of dreaming of him every night and waking up disappointed that I hadn’t. They do dream of their brothers, but not the happy dreams of Daddies dancing at their daughter’s wedding or grandpas proudly holding their first grandchild. Theirs are dreams of blood on their hands and screams in their ears. I knew as I spoke with these men that I wanted to walk in my father’s footsteps, and even more importantly, to see with my own eyes where he died. In September of that year the Centralia, Illinois, V.V.A. Chapter 176 made that dream come true. They handed me the opportunity I had only dreamed of - to stand on the beach where my father died with the man whose innocence had been sacrificed along with him. Dan Johnson, a member of the chapters Board of Directors, took me under his wing and he, along with the rest of 176 looked after me, prayed, hoped and waited along with me as though I were their daughter. Since then, Dan has referred to himself as my “other” Dad and he has become just that. They have shared in this odyssey my hopes and dreams for a new beginning and a connection to my Dad. They speak, not of “her” trip, but of “our” trip. Together, with Chuck I went forward. We left September 18, arrived in Saigon and flew on to Hue. We visited Khe Sanh, Lang Vei, and Dong Ha. Our first stop, however, was the A Shau Valley, where Dad and Chuck had spent many a long day and night together. While looking on the frontier area that borders Laos, our guide confided in me that his father was a Viet Cong officer who was listed as missing in action some 25 years ago. A flood of anger overwhelmed me, and as I turned from him to hide my sobs I suddenly felt ashamed of myself. I was so angry with this man, who’d held no more power than I’d had in the series of events that took his father from him. In the “real” world we had every right to hate each other, but this wasn’t the world I’d come to believe as real- this was the reality of war. The reality of innocent young boys caught up in the tangle of what each believes is right and wrong. Somehow, he had come to a place in his life where he could look upon me and not see his father’s blood on my father’s hands. In that moment I knew I had come to a turning point in my life. It was my turn to heal, my turn to forgive and understand. It was a step I had to take if I was to accomplish what I’d set out to do- to bring dignity and respect to my father’s name and his cause and every man like him. My anger had brought me to a road that stopped dead center. On it were no options, no alternate avenues. Hatred, bitterness, and anger were all it offered me. I chose the other road. I realize only now it is a long one, one that may take years to travel, but ultimately, the one I know my father would have chosen had he been given my choice. Throughout my journey I met several men who had served with the NVA and VC during the war, each willing, and yes, even happy to help see me to my destination. I believe their intentions were good ones. They too wanted me to find the peace and healing I knew I could only find in the white sand of the South China Sea. Thursday afternoon- the day I had waited a lifetime for arrived and I thought of all the warnings I had received. This moment, they said, may not be the epiphany I had hoped for. What my hopes were for that day I’m not sure, perhaps a thunderous voice from the heavens, perhaps not. Walking up the path from that village that day through yards of pine trees, Chuck and I had very little to say to one another. In fact, we barely spoke the entire day. Looking back, I see now that perhaps we just didn’t know what to say to one another. We both seemed a little afraid of each other. I had awoke at 5am that morning feeling nervous and jumpy. My dream was becoming a reality. As we finished lunch that afternoon our guide ”Elvis” said it was time to visit Gia Dang village and asked if I was ready. “Let’s do it”, I replied. On the outside I was a badass, tough and completely confident of my purpose. Scratch the surface, however, and I crumbled. Every doubt I had about myself, my father and why I was here rose up in my throat like bile, threatening to choke me. I don’t know how I made it up that tiny backroad out of Gia Dang that day. Maybe it was pride, maybe just a streak of stubbornness, but somewhere between Dong Ha and the South China Sea I realized I would hate myself if I backed out now. I told myself how ashamed Dad must be at this moment to know what a coward his daughter was, so I walked, down a dirt road, littered with broken sea shells and the sound of the sea thundering in my ears. “Get me to the sea”, Chuck had told Elvis. “If I hear it I’ll know where I am.” And so it was that sound that Chuck led me toward, teacher and student, not speaking with our words, but with our hearts. Chuck seemed so strong, so sure of what lay ahead. I was scared and shamed by the depth of that fear. I wanted to be my father’s daughter, fearless and true to his memory, I just didn’t know what fate had in store for me that day. Beyond the pine trees lay a small stream that ran through the village, beyond that, my dream - the beach where my father spent his final moments. “This is it”, Chuck said. The dam broke, the walls crumbled and I broke down feeling an overwhelming sense of loss and, for a brief moment, I felt very alone in that grief. It was this moment that Chuck chose to put his arms around me, hold me close and tell in that same strong, sure voice that “Your Daddy was the best, the bravest man I’ve ever known”. I believe this was the moment my life stood still. I felt my father’s spirit in a way I never had before. Looking at the miles of white sand, white capped waves and endless horizon I knew that this was one of those perfect moments in life when everything falls into place and you almost expect to hear a director yell “Cut!” I had lived this moment a thousand times in my mind, but nothing prepared me for that moment in time when my father felt so real, so warm alive that had I turned to see him smile and laugh, I would not have been surprised or shocked. What I saw, however, in no way compared to what I felt. I felt good. I felt loved by this man and for this man and for his friend who still stood by him and loved him even 31 years later. We sat on the beach a long time that day, Chuck and I; his wife and my husband snapping pictures from a good distance, not wanting to break the spell woven around us, but hoping to capture this perfect moment and hold onto it forever. It was during this time that Chuck turned to me and said that he saw my Dad every time I smiled and heard him every time I laughed. This makes want to smile and laugh more and I know that makes Dad very happy. That evening the four of us sat and talked, or rather, Chuck talked and we listened while he told story after story. His memories are happy ones; his stories are of two young men, full of life and laughter, looking out for one another and seeing the best and worst of one another and of life itself. I know there are bad memories for Chuck; he’s had too heavy a burden to carry for so many years and he paid far too dear a price for his country’s cause - the loss of his innocence. While I know nothing I say or do can replace that, what I can do is tell him and all of you how very proud I am of each and every one of you. You are men our children can look up to, and your actions inspire us. The sons and daughters of your fallen brothers are especially proud of you. You are the link to our fathers. You bring depth and color to the pictures we carry, not in our memories, but in our hearts. We have no real memories of these men, only dreams of these larger than life heroes. You, however, gift us with your precious memories, ones you so lovingly share with us. You make our Dads real. When you tell your stories they become flesh and blood. You take them from our dreams and place them in our hearts where they belong. The Sons and Daughters In Touch is hoping to celebrate Father’s Day 2000 by bringing together 1000 sons and daughters and 1000 Vietnam vets at the Wall in Washington, DC. I believe I speak for all Sons and Daughters when I say how proud we are of all of you. The future holds great things for both VVA and SDIT, it is my hope that these two groups become even closer. We look to you to keep the flame alive. Our dad’s spirit is alive and well in your memories. I can’t think of a more appropriate coming together of these two groups than on the day chosen to honor our father. We honor you as well. Should there ever come a time when you doubt your worth – the worthiness of your sacrifice, don’t. Think of us and be proud. Hold your head high for you’ve taught us just to do that. Brag when you feel like it, you’ve earned the right. Some have asked if this trip gave me closer. No, I thank God – it did not. What it did give me is a new beginning. I am not the same person that I was six months ago. I am a whole person now, thanks the VVA and SDIT. Together they provided me with the once in a lifetime opportunity to walk in my father’s final footsteps, to feel his spirit. I feel him with me every time I close my eyes and hear the sound of the sea. I feel his hands on my shoulders, strong and sure, as Chuck’s were that day. Both men tell me my path was the continuation of a journey that these two men, along with all Vietnam vets began long ago. We are all linked to one another – veterans and children – by these men, loved and remembered by those who fought by their sides, worshipped and revered by those who know only their letters and pictures. Our past is the glue that bonds us together, but the future holds great promise. Together with our love and your memories these men will live on through the generations.
A Letter From Chuck Fellow
Veterans-
Ritchie had arrived in counrty only a few months before, December '67: however, having jumped right into the Tet Offensive and all, was somewhat of a seasoned veteran. He certainly was not an FNG like me. Any way, because of his experience, I looked to him to basically show me the way. We often dug our fighting and sleeping holes together, shared hootches, swapped stories, drank and laughed together, and like the rest of the guys in our squad, like brothers, we watched each others back! Both of us, perhaps like many of you, young and naïve, believed, or wanted to believe that we doing our duty, serving our country, and doing the right things. Sometimes this was difficult. I for one tried to justify my presence in 'Nam by thinking that we might at least be instrumental in improving the quality of life for the Vietnamese people. Like I said, young and naïve. The 1st and 12th covered a lot of territory over the next several months... not only the jungles and villages around Quang Tri, but also Dong Ha, A Shau Valley, Khe Sanh, and back. Each company, platoon, squad, whatever, had its share of victories, however, not without many pitiful losses. In late May, May 28 to be exact, the entire 1st Battalion was airlifted to the white sands of the South China Sea, the Bay of Tonkin. We had Charlie boxed in......A Company to the south, B and C to the north and west, and a naval destroyer to the east. The VC suffered many losses that day and night with a severe pounding from those big navy guns. The following morning we initiated a sweep of the inner perimeter and village to finish the job and go on to other things..... hopefully back to the LZ to clean all the sand out of our weapons. Ritchie typically volunteered to crawl into any bunkers or tunnels that we encountered. That day was no different. Ritchie, in his normal fashion, fragged, then entered a bunker in hopes of discovering a weapons cache or some unique find. Upon entry Ritchie was shot and killed by a VC that survived the fragging. Sad recollections of that day, the loss of a good friend, stayed with me for the rest of my tour and then some. My whole attitude on life changed. With the Good Lord's blessings I successfully completed my tour and left 'Nam in February '69.......never looking back....never expecting or even wanting to return. However, after 20 years of thinking about something I should have done on my return, I contacted Ritchie's parents. I needed to let them know that I shared their sadness, to let them know how brave and honorable he was and how proud they should be of their son. After speaking with Ritchie's father I felt I finally did the right thing. A giant weight seemed to lift off my shoulders and I could now, once and for all, put 'Nam behind me. Or so I thought. Several weeks after contact with Ritchie's parents I returned from work one evening only to hear to my wife say "Shelly called". Yes, you all know Shelly. For some strange reason, I also knew. Upon hearing the name my thoughts immediately went to the day Ritchie received a letter announcing the birth of his new baby girl. Yvette Michelle. I remembered the smile on his face. Shelley and I had the good fortune to meet some time later, and you guessed it, become good friends. I see her dad every time I see her smile or hear her laugh. This makes me very happy. It is this friendship that somehow makes my friendship with Ritchie lifelong. Seems like every time we meet I remember all the good times in Vietnam and at the same time I am reminded of the ultimate sacrifice of her father - - giving up one's life for the betterment of others. Now, because of your generosity you have fulfilled a young woman's dream........provided an opportunity for Shelly to walk in her father's final footsteps, the father she didn't know, to feel his spirit, something she had longed for since a small child. I never would have returned to Vietnam had it not been for her.....and you, the Vietnam Veterans of America. I'm glad I did. I was also glad that my wife Virginia, and Shelly's husband, Wade were able to accompany us on this visit. Another bond we can all share. The Vietnamese seemed just as I had remember - happy and friendly. Many
friends and family questioned why I wished to return, thinking that such
a visit would stir up old memories. Well, the not so good memories have
faded. The only real sadness was seeing that nothing seemed to change after
300 years. So many sacrificed so much for what? The living conditions certainly
don't appear to have changed! Sure, there is peace now, and thank God for
that. I won't go into the politics but I still think we have a responsibility
to assist in improving the quality of life for these people.....we need
to bring to a close that which we started and that for which so many died
for. I am impressed with what I have learned of the Veterans Initiative.
A wonderful effort which I believe can make some of
Sorry that I was not able to attend your meeting to personally thank each and every one of you. Certainly a special thanks goes out to Danny Johnson who was instrumental in making this visit to Vietnam a reality. Also to Elvis , a super guide provided by you who helped make our trip pleasurable, memorable , and rewarding. Thank you again and God bless. Sincerely,
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