When Greg Kleven was wounded in Vietnam on October 17, 1967, the military was slow in notifying his parents. Some days later Greg was medevacked to Japan for additional surgery. There, he wrote three letters home explaining the circumstances. One to his parents, one to John Horan and one to me.
Even then, a full week after Greg’s wounding, when the three letters finally arrived at their destinations, the military had yet to inform any next of kin about Greg’s predicament.
As can be imagined, a dramatic series of events rapidly unfolded once the letters arrived in Oakland. An early postal delivery permitted John Horan to receive his letter first, whereupon telephone calls to the Klevens and the Brennans were frantically made.
Returning home from morning college classes my mother passed the message to me about Horan calling. Opening my own letter from Greg was additional confirmation of what Horan conveyed to me over the phone. Within minutes he and I were in his VW Bug speeding to Greg’s parents’ house with the two letters.
Some days later the official visit from the USMC occurred, as well as the receipt of a traditional Western Union telegram. Thirty-five years later on the occasion of Greg’s father’s death all three letters were discovered among his possessions along with several dozen Vietnam letters from Greg. They were stored in a brown paper bag and then gifted to me for posterity.
My own return trip from Vietnam in early April 1971 was not without some memorable moments to tell. I was granted a full week off from military duties prior to officially departing Vinh Long Army Airfield, south of Saigon, where I’d spent 12 ½ months in the 114th Assault Helicopter Company working as a Flight Operations Coordinator with the rank of Specialist Five.
The first leg of my journey home was catching a helicopter ride to the 90th Replacement Center where all incoming and outgoing personnel were processed. During the flight the Crew Chief quietly warned me ahead of time about a practical joke they were going to pull on a fellow passenger who himself was homeward bound like me. They chopped the power which caused the chopper to lose RPM and go quiet for a while, but was quickly restarted after the surprise stunt successfully rattled the unsuspected pilot who was seated next to me exhibiting white knuckles and a terrified expression.
Landing in neighboring Bien Hoa by chopper I thumbed a ride to the huge Long Binh facility. Somewhere along the line I caught food poisoning really bad from Army chow which nearly cost me my assigned seat on the Freedom Bird. Standing under a cold shower for an hour helped lower the fever to where I was functioning again, but the diarrhea had zapped much of my strength.
But never underestimate the determination of a homeward bound soldier who had already beaten the odds and was set on speedily getting back to civilian life again.
Sleeping outside under the stars the night before the flight home was another unexpected delight after the barrack beds were filled up. The flight home on United N8975U was mostly routine except for two memorable milestones: leaving Vietnam’s airspace and landing at Travis AFB. Both events were punctuated with loud roars of shouting and applause from all 200 liberated passengers.
The last leg of the trip was a bus ride to the Army’s major Pacific Command processing facility at the Oakland Army Base, never before seen or visited, yet situated seven miles from where I grew up. It would be an agonizing 24 hours until my days inside the green machine were over. New uniforms were issued, forms were filled out, a steak dinner was enjoyed, and final pay was received.
Calling home generated an unexpected yet delightful family mini-reunion when family and friends showed up unexpectedly at the Army base hours before my formal discharge.
Finally, around 5 p.m. the next day a blue VW bug pulled up and brothers Jim and Mike delivered me home to 3006 Galindo
Street, April 5th, 1971.
John Brennan is a resident of Chico. He can be reached at [email protected].
