Veterans' Day
Nov. 11th, 2004 01:48 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonlady7I was going to post Happy Shiny Pictures, in response to that Let's Stop Talking About Politics meme, and then I looked at my calendar program and noticed the date.
It's Veterans' Day.
This isn't really a day to talk about Happy Shinies. This is a day to remember things. Difficult things.
I am going to post a set of pictures and some commentary. How you respond to it in your own mind is up to you. I would like to read comments of what this makes people think, just to see how different people react to this. This is something I grew up with and yet never really heard the story of in clear detail until I was an adult. I knew the basic truths of it, as a child, and often looked at the photographs. I would marvel over the strangeness of the one, who grew into a man intimately familiar to me, and I would forget and have to ask the name of the other, whose name my father (who would often call me by the wrong name) never had to hesitate to pronounce, to distinguish from any other. And when I asked, he still had all the original papers, maps, letters, notes.
The two photographs were taken within moments of each other just before my father's 24th birthday in October 1968, and were sent home in a letter to my grandmother.
The two pictures, framed together, hang on the wall in my father's office (now my family's computer room), and have done as long as I can remember, with a piece of paper tucked into the lower edge of the frame.
Each photograph is of a man, sitting in an olive-drab, low-slung tent, on an obviously hot day. One man took a picture of the other, and then handed the camera to the other, who took a picture of him in turn. Neither man was an accomplished photographer, and the camera wasn't particularly sophisticated. The pictures are the slightest bit blurry, focused more on the sandbags than on the men.
The tent was in the province of Pleiku, Vietnam.
The piece of paper from the frame is a rubbing in black crayon. It is from the Vietnam memorial in Washington, D.C.
One of the photographed men is my father, who was at the time the lieutenant of a platoon of Infantry.
The other is the platoon's sergeant, Robert Freitas.
Sgt. Robert Freitas was killed by shrapnel from a friendly artillery shell on June 21 1969, the month my father was released from active duty.
Dad got a letter from his buddy Phillip Stromman shortly afterward to tell him what had happened.
The letter goes on listing a number of other people killed around the same time in a night mortar attack. He concludes with an accounting of their former platoon, the 3rd:
That's all. I don't have any analysis about The Human Cost and the Defense of Liberty and Our Place In History or anything like that. I don't know why they were where they were, I don't know what any of it meant; if I did, I wouldn't tell you because you may well disagree. It's that kind of issue. I don't want to be contentious. I just want to remember.
I just have the digital copies of the photos, the rubbing, and the letter, and what I remember seeing and my father telling.
That's my Veteran's Day.
edit I know I didn't say which of the men was which.
It's Veterans' Day.
This isn't really a day to talk about Happy Shinies. This is a day to remember things. Difficult things.
I am going to post a set of pictures and some commentary. How you respond to it in your own mind is up to you. I would like to read comments of what this makes people think, just to see how different people react to this. This is something I grew up with and yet never really heard the story of in clear detail until I was an adult. I knew the basic truths of it, as a child, and often looked at the photographs. I would marvel over the strangeness of the one, who grew into a man intimately familiar to me, and I would forget and have to ask the name of the other, whose name my father (who would often call me by the wrong name) never had to hesitate to pronounce, to distinguish from any other. And when I asked, he still had all the original papers, maps, letters, notes.
The two photographs were taken within moments of each other just before my father's 24th birthday in October 1968, and were sent home in a letter to my grandmother.
The two pictures, framed together, hang on the wall in my father's office (now my family's computer room), and have done as long as I can remember, with a piece of paper tucked into the lower edge of the frame.
Each photograph is of a man, sitting in an olive-drab, low-slung tent, on an obviously hot day. One man took a picture of the other, and then handed the camera to the other, who took a picture of him in turn. Neither man was an accomplished photographer, and the camera wasn't particularly sophisticated. The pictures are the slightest bit blurry, focused more on the sandbags than on the men.
The tent was in the province of Pleiku, Vietnam.
The piece of paper from the frame is a rubbing in black crayon. It is from the Vietnam memorial in Washington, D.C.
One of the photographed men is my father, who was at the time the lieutenant of a platoon of Infantry.
The other is the platoon's sergeant, Robert Freitas.
Sgt. Robert Freitas was killed by shrapnel from a friendly artillery shell on June 21 1969, the month my father was released from active duty.
Dad got a letter from his buddy Phillip Stromman shortly afterward to tell him what had happened.
5 July 1969
Kelly,
I received your letter this morning and I'll fill you in on the details of SFC Freitas' death.
At the time (21 Jun 69) Sergeant Freitas was platoon leader of second platoon. They were still working around the Oasis (about 4 clicks SW) and they were in their night location getting ready to sweep an area. It was about 0755 hours. Sergeant Freitas was calling in artillery to prep the area about 500-100 meters from their location. The whole platoon was on the ground securing the perimeter and Sgt Freitas was in the center of the perimater next to the RTO, laying on his back. All the rounds were falling where he wanted them, so he called to fire for effect. About 5 rounds were fired and they were all good, except that one of them hit a tree top near 2nd platoon's perimeter and burst. No one else was hurt but SFC Freitas and Sp4 Morrow who took a small piece of shrapnel in his leg. However, SFC Freitas was hit by a large piece in the neck and left shoulder. There was no medic with the platoon but the others managed to stop the bleeding in his neck, however they couldn't stop it in his shoulder and he died about 25 minutes later. The Company has raised about $500 which will be sent to Mrs. Freitas. As you will probably agree, Sgt. Freitas was one of the best NCOs I ever met.
The letter goes on listing a number of other people killed around the same time in a night mortar attack. He concludes with an accounting of their former platoon, the 3rd:
I suppose you realize that third PLT has only about 5 experienced men left and SP4 Drukenbrod took charge and kept the PLT together and functioning until help arrived. I understand that he will be put in for BS "V " [Bronze Star with V device for valor] for his actions.
That's all. I don't have any analysis about The Human Cost and the Defense of Liberty and Our Place In History or anything like that. I don't know why they were where they were, I don't know what any of it meant; if I did, I wouldn't tell you because you may well disagree. It's that kind of issue. I don't want to be contentious. I just want to remember.
I just have the digital copies of the photos, the rubbing, and the letter, and what I remember seeing and my father telling.
That's my Veteran's Day.
edit I know I didn't say which of the men was which.
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no subject
Date: 2004-11-11 04:34 pm (UTC)Robert E Freitas
Date: 2005-02-23 02:11 am (UTC)Re: Robert E Freitas
Date: 2005-02-23 02:22 am (UTC)I passed his e-mail address on to my father, who was really excited to get it. My father is currently in the midst of a huge project to organize all his notes and photos and maps and memories from Vietnam-- mostly because the unit's medic, a fellow named Holtby, has been in touch with him and wanted to know more about Vietnam, since he didn't remember much. So all of this is very much in his mind at the moment. I want to say that over the years he has often spoken of your father, of what an excellent NCO he was, and how deeply he regretted his death.
E-mail me at dragonlady7@gmail.com, and I will put you in contact with my father as well, if you like. I am sure he would be more than happy to share his memories and his photographs with you. He respected your father a great deal.