Untitled

to the Missus

FROM THE MAJORFROM THE MAJOR

A U.S. Marine Corps Grumman TF-9J Cougar of Headquarters & Maintenance Squad-

ron 13 (H&MS-13) at Chu Lai, Vietnam, ca. 1967

Source: official U.S. Navy National Museum of Naval Aviation photo 1996.253.7404.005.

to the Missus

FROM THE MAJORFROM THE MAJOR

Letters from the War in Vietnam,

October 1966–October 1967

written by Major Ray B. Stice to Elizabeth “Gig” Stice

transcribed and edited by Robin Stice Maroney

with John M. Curatola, Ph

Quantico, Virginia

2023

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA

Names: Stice, Ray B., author. | Stice, Elizabeth (Elizabeth Kirkpatrick), author. | Maroney, Robin Stice,

editor. | Curatola, John M., 1965– editor. | Marine Corps University (U.S.). Press, issuing body.

Title: From the major to the missus : letters from the War in Vietnam, October 1966–October 1967 /

written by Ray B. Stice to Elizabeth “Gig” Stice ; transcribed and edited by Robin Stice Maroney, with

John M. Curatola.

Other titles: Letters from the War in Vietnam, October 1966–October 1967

Description: Quantico, VA : Marine Corps University Press, [2024] | In scope of the U.S. Government

Publishing Office Cataloging and Indexing Program (C&I); Federal Depository Library Program

(FDLP) distribution status to be determined upon publication. | Includes bibliographical references

and index. | Summary: “At the height of American participation in the Vietnam War, U.S. Marine

Corps fighter pilot Major Ray B. Stice, his wife Elizabeth, and their four children wrote to each other

daily from October 1966 until his return home in late 1967. These handwritten letters were pains-

takingly transcribed here to capture the family’s devotion to each other while apart and detail their

struggles, triumphs, laughter, and tears. Their correspondence became a lifeline for the Stice family

and displayed their unwavering love that endured despite the perils of war”— Provided by publisher.

Identifiers: LCCN 2023050672 (print) | LCCN 2023050673 (ebook) | ISBN 9798986259529 (paperback)

| ISBN 9798986259536 (epub)

Subjects: LCSH: Stice, Ray B.—Correspondence. | Stice, Elizabeth (Elizabeth Kirkpatrick)—Correspon-

dence. | United States. Marine Corps—Airmen—Correspondence. | Vietnam War, 1961–1975—Per-

sonal narratives, American. | Vietnam War, 1961–1975—United States—Airmen—Correspondence. |

Air pilots, Military—United States—Correspondence. | Military spouses—United States—Correspon-

dence. | LCGFT: Personal correspondence.

Classification: LCC DS559.5 (print) | LCC DS559.5 (ebook) | DDC 959.704/345 [B] —dc23/eng20231103

| SUDOC D 214.513:V 67

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023050672

LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023050673

DISCLAIMER

The views expressed in this publication are solely those of the authors. They do not necessarily reflect the

opinion of Marine Corps University, the U.S. Marine Corps, the U.S. Navy, the U.S. Army, the U.S. Air

Force, or the U.S. government. The information contained in this book was accurate at the time of printing.

Every effort has been made to secure copyright permission on excerpts and artworks reproduced in this

volume. Please contact the editors to rectify inadvertent errors or omissions.

from Marine Corps University Press (MCUP) are created by U.S. government employees as part of their

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MCUP products are published under a Creative Commons NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 Internation-

al (CC BY-NC-ND 4.0) license.

Published by

Marine Corps University Press

2044 Broadway Street

Quantico, VA 22134

1st Printing, 2023

ISBN: 979-8-9862595-2-9

DOI: 10.56686/9798986259529

THIS VOLUME IS FREELY AVAILABLE AT WWW.USMCU.EDU/MCUPRESS

———

CONTENTS

Editorial Note vii

Foreword ix

Preface xiii

Select Terms, Abbreviations, and Acronyms xxxiii

Introduction 3

John M. Curatola, PhD

Chapter 1. October 1966 13

Chapter 2. November 1966 44

Chapter 3. December 1966 91

Chapter 4. January 1967 131

Chapter 5. February 1967 177

Chapter 6. March 1967 215

Chapter 7. April 1967 244

Chapter 8. May 1967 291

Chapter 9. June 1967 330

Chapter 10. July 1967 368

Chapter 11. August 1967 398

Chapter 12. September 1967 438

Chapter 13. October 1967 475

Contents

———

Conclusion 503

John M. Curatola, PhD

Select Bibliography and Suggested Further Reading 507

Index 515

About the Editor 523

———

vii

EDITORIAL NOTE

In 2022, the staff at the History Division Archives suggested that a collec-

tion contributor contact Marine Corps University Press (MCUP) about

publishing the war letters between their parents while the father was de-

ployed as a Marine Corps aviator in Vietnam between October 1966 and

October 1967. The collection represented just one of the voluminous

works held by the Stice family, representing decades of correspondence

between family members at home and on the war front.

To date, not much, scholarly or otherwise, has been published on this

topic with the intent of illustrating in startlingly honest detail both sides

of a military deployment—the servicemember and the spouse. We have

seen our share of historical nonfiction and trade fiction on American war-

fighters’ experiences when put in harm’s way, though none quite captured

the impact of their military service on those left behind—spouses, parents,

children, communities—attempting to come to grips with the fact that a

hole is now present in their daily lives.

The pages that follow offer the love letters of a husband and wife—

Major Ray B. Stice and Elizabeth “Gig” Stice—at their best and sometimes

their worst as a couple and as individuals struggling to make a difficult

situation work. This printing represents as closely as possible the original

transcribed letters, with minor alterations to the text based on current

standards for style, grammar, punctuation, and spelling, but also to ac-

commodate space constraints of the publishing process. Due to the pass-

Editorial Note

———

viii

ing of time and the challenges of transcription, some information may

not be complete or the names/terms left as per the original because veri-

fication simply was not possible. In some instances, we have retained the

original spelling of specific places and things as they represent the accept-

ed spelling for the historical period. Further, editorial text, informational

footnotes, and citations have been inserted to provide additional context,

to educate the reader on social and historical terms from the period, and

to allow for additional research later.

At times, the couple’s letters venture into sensitive areas, including

the sociocultural and political issues of the day, the tension caused by

distance in a marriage, at times using terms that some readers may find

offensive. We include these blemishes, not with the intention of drawing

attention to or supporting what would be considered by many as deroga-

tory but to celebrate the highs and lows of military service and the fam-

ilies who give our troops the strength and support they need to deploy

bearing America’s flag.

Angela J. Anderson

Director

Marine Corps University Press

———

FOREWORD

Much has been written about the Vietnam War. We know the history of

the war, battles, individual heroics, and the stories of prisoners of war

(POWs). Unfortunately, we do not have a clear picture of Vietnam’s im-

pact on the families of those who fought in the war. The collection of

letters in From the Major to the Missus tells about one family’s Vietnam

experience.

During Marine Corps major Ray B. Stice’s tour in Vietnam between

1966 and 1967, he and his wife Elizabeth “Gig” Stice exchanged letters on

a daily basis. Their children also sent letters to their father. Thankfully,

Ray and his family kept those letters for the many decades and moves that

passed. Those letters portray the love and dedication of a military family

despite being separated by more than 9,000 miles. While Ray faced the

dangers of combat as a fighter pilot, Gig raised their four children in a

rental home in Austin, Texas.

Military spouses rarely get enough credit. Not only did Gig worry

about her husband’s service in a war zone, but she handled all of the

household demands of a large family. The couple’s letters cover daily ac-

tivities in their lives. As a combat veteran myself, I knew the importance

of mail call. Mail on the home front was equally important.

As a Marine who served in numerous deployments without my fami-

ly, I can relate to the Stice family. My wife Dena and I had seven children.

Although Gig and Dena never met, they understood the demands of the

Foreword

———

Corps and what it means to be a Marine. Both ladies worried that there

might be a knock on the door with news no family ever wanted to hear.

Military wives are to be treasured. In many ways, Gig Stice represents mil-

itary wives throughout history. Those special women, including Gig Stice,

neither receive proper recognition nor medals for serving our nation.

As you read this book, you will learn about a Marine officer who bal-

anced his military duties with his responsibilities as a husband and father.

Some of his letters spoke directly to his children in an effort to maintain

that connection while so far away. Major Stice’s letters demonstrate both

humor and candor, just as Gig Stice’s letters show her strength and grow-

ing independence.

I first met Ray Stice after I succeeded Lieutenant Colonel Kenny C.

Palmer as commander of Marine Air Base Squadron 13 (MABS-13). I

knew Kenny Palmer well and he spoke highly of Ray Stice. Ray and I

shared a common bond. We were both mustangs—enlisted men who be-

came Marine officers and then aviators. I saw firsthand the impact Major

Stice had on MABS-13. During his time with the squadron, Stice served

as the executive officer (XO). As XO, Major Stice made sure that his fellow

Marines had housing, workspace, and drinking water. Major Stice was

also a decorated fighter pilot who earned 12 Air Medals. His work as the

XO earned Stice the Republic of Vietnam Cross of Gallantry with the

Silver Star “for meritorious service in connection with operations against

insurgent communist forces.” Stice also earned the Navy Commendation

Medal. In the citation for Stice’s commendation, Fleet Marine Force, Pa-

cific commanding general, Lieutenant General Victor H. Krulak, wrote:

Displaying exceptional initiative and resourcefulness, he

[Stice] worked tirelessly to maintain the squadron’s operation-

al effectiveness during a period of increasing combat missions

and numerous personnel rotations. Despite extremely adverse

weather conditions and the constant threat of enemy fire, he

accomplished all of tasks efficiently and expeditiously. His

steadfast determination and seemingly unlimited resourceful-

ness earned the respect and admiration of all with whom he

served and contributed significantly to the accomplishment of

his unit’s mission.

As I meet fellow Vietnam veterans, I urge them to share their stories

with their families. Thousands of Americans served in Vietnam between

Foreword

———

1962 and 1975, and history demands that we know the individual stories

of those who served and sacrificed in Vietnam. Children and grandchil-

dren need to hear those stories to better understand their family’s con-

nection with Vietnam and the United States’ role in the war. Fortunately,

Ray and Gig Stice saved their precious letters. As you read From the Major

to the Missus, you will get a new perspective on Vietnam. You already know

the impact of war on the battlefield. This book helps readers understand

the human side of war and the effect it has on individual families of ser-

vicemembers.

At the height of the war, more than a half a million Americans served

in Vietnam. Nearly 60,000 names of servicemembers who never came

home are etched on a memorial wall in Washington, DC. Only recently,

our nation finally recognized and honored those who served in Vietnam.

I want to thank Ray and Gig’s daughter, Robin Stice Maroney, for

transcribing, editing, and sharing her family’s letters. Robin and her sis-

ters’—Karen Stice Ratliff and Kathy Stice Blanchard—efforts further show

the love her parents had for each other. From the Major to the Missus shares

private thoughts and life’s challenges in combat and at home, offering a

rare look into the lives of a special Marine Corps family.

Lieutenant General Richard E. Carey

United States Marine Corps (Ret)

———

xiii

PREFACE

By Robin Stice Maroney

Background

My father, Major Ray B. Stice, was 38 years old when he served as a U.S.

Marine Corps fighter pilot in Chu Lai, South Vietnam (officially the

Republic of Vietnam). He and Elizabeth (he lovingly called her “Gig”)

Kirkpatrick Stice had been married for 12 years prior to him leaving for

Vietnam. The Stices had four children together—Karen, Robin, Kirk, and

Kathy—and they lived in Austin, Texas. Ray Stice flew 163 combat mis-

sions during the war and was awarded 12 Air Medals, including a Bronze

Star, and the Vietnam Cross of Gallantry with Bronze Star for heroic

action for his “tireless Devotion to Duty, Professional Skill and Exemplary

Leadership upholding the highest traditions of the United States Naval

Service.”

Ray graduated from the U.S. Naval Academy, the University of

Illinois, and attended the University of Omaha in Nebraska.

Gig was 36 years old when Ray left to serve his tour of duty in Viet-

nam. She was a U.S. Army officer’s daughter, who traveled the world

with her family the first 25 years of her life to different Army posts. Gig

attended Austin High School and graduated from the University of Tex-

as with a bachelor’s degree in English, where she was also a member of

Kappa Kappa Gamma. After graduation, she married Ray and became a

Republic of Vietnam Cross of Gallantry citation, Maj Ray B. Stice, 24 July 1967, in

family collection.

Preface

———

xiv

Marine officer’s wife. The family moved around frequently for another

15 years within the United States to different Marine Corps air stations

until Ray retired in 1970. The final move was back to Austin so Gig could

be close to her mother, Priscilla Kirkpatrick. Gig often said she spent so

many years of her life moving or in a car due to the military (40 years) that

when she finally settled down, she never wanted to travel again, although

she never said no to a fun expedition or adventure.

When Ray left to fight in the Vietnam War in September 1966, Karen

(age 11), Robin (age 9), and Kirk (age 7) were in elementary school and

Kathy was a toddler (age 2). They lived only a block away from their school

in Austin.

For the most part, Ray and Gig’s letters were transcribed in their

entirety without revisions except for words of intimate nature when Ray

Figure 1. The Stice children playing in Cherry Point, NC, ca. 1958

Source: Stice family collection.

Preface

———

would write “privately” to Gig. We have attempted to edit errors of punc-

tuation and (on occasion) spelling for ease of reading. Some sentence

fragments or use of popular terms of the day, such as sez, wif, and dozo, are

included as originally written to better show Ray’s wonderful sense of hu-

mor. We hope not to offend any reader, family or otherwise, by including

uncensored swear words and language from the time.

Transcribing the Letters

It has been an incredible privilege transcribing my parent’s letters to each

other from October 1966 to October 1967 during dad’s 13-month tour

of duty in the Vietnam War while stationed at Chu Lai. We discovered

most of their original letters in an old suitcase left in the garage after our

mother passed away. It had always been her intent to transcribe the letters,

but that never came to be. I felt it was not just an honor but my duty to

fulfill my mother’s wish to transcribe the letters in their entirety. Our

father wrote 173 letters home to our family while he served in Vietnam,

and mother wrote 248 letters to him from Austin. Reading their unfil-

tered thoughts, dreams, and love for each other and their four children

has been a great joy.

I still have vivid memories as a child of sitting under a weeping wil-

low tree on the corner of the street writing letters to my dad, and when

finished, I would run into our house, open my mother’s purse for her red

lipstick, and seal my letter with a red-lipped kiss. While transcribing the

letters for this book, I came across one of the letters that Dad had kept,

complete with lipstick kiss and “my real lips” written above it.

Right before Dad left for Vietnam, I remember being afraid about

him leaving us to go fight in a war. I remember expressing my fear about

him possibly being hurt or shot. I will never forget his response to me,

Robin, don’t you DARE get scared or worry about me. If you

are scared, then I will worry about YOU, and I don’t have

time for that, and THAT’S AN ORDER!

I said, “Yes sir! I won’t get scared!” I knew an order was an order—I was

the daughter of a U.S. Marine. His wise, strong words stuck with me that

year, and I never worried once.

My biggest appreciation for my parents came while transcribing their

letters, as the clarity and depth of love between them was so obvious.

These letters—written by my dad during an active military conflict, and

Preface

———

xvi

my mom as an officer’s wife raising four children alone—are as real, raw,

and true as they can be. The two of them maintained a sense of normalcy,

no matter what was going on in their lives, because of their constant com-

munication through daily letter writing. For example, there was a sudden

break in one of dad’s letters dated 18 October 1966, when a bomb landed

outside his hooch, and he had to dive behind a bunker of sandbags until

he received the all clear. When he returns hours later, he is soaking wet,

freezing cold, and simply relieved the bombing is over.

However, he does

not hint that he feels any fear as he tries to pick up where he last left off to

finish the letter. He manages to still be a “parent” after he has essentially

had his ass handed to him and continues to handwrite his wife some ad-

vice in response to a concern she has about my brother and school. It is

evident that he is striving to be a caring husband and father in the midst

of war. He writes,

Try to use a lot of restraint and patience with them—monsters

as they may appear, they are beautiful children.

To many, writing a letter during wartime is the epitome of living in

the physical and mental moment. Our dad wrote like he was talking to us

in person. In fact, he and my mother wrote so often during the Vietnam

War that this collection of letters reveals a two-way conversation between

a husband and his wife, lovingly saved, preserved, and kept pristine in

their original envelopes for more than 50 years. Altogether, 459 letters

were written, including those by their children, during his 13-month tour

of duty in Chu Lai. This book includes most of the transcribed letters

written from October 1966 to October 1967, though some trimming was

required due to space constraints.

Military Brats

Our father was a United States Marine Corps jet fighter pilot, and we chil-

dren became what is affectionately termed military brats raised on Marine

air bases all over the country. We were like any other ordinary military

family who hopped to with military readiness when given orders to hit the

road. Our father always drove like he was on a mission, with the pedal to

For more on Marine Corps activities in this area at the time, see Jack Shulimson, U.S.

Marines in Vietnam: An Expanding War, 1966 (Washington, DC: History and Museums

Division, Headquarters Marine Corps, 1982).

Preface

———

xvii

the metal. My mother remarked that, once they were married, she began

a life of chasing after our father wherever he was stationed. The “Stice

troops” were steadfast as our family convoy moved across the country in

a station wagon 9 times in 14 years and transferred schools 13 times. We

did not have car seats or air conditioning. Dad drove with the windows

down, cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. The wind would

often carry the hot, chalky ashes back into our faces. When we were ba-

bies, Dad built a wooden playpen box, lined it with blankets, and put it in

the back of the station wagon so we could sleep, crawl, and play nonstop

during those long hauls. We all still laugh about the time when Kathy was

a baby and had a dirty diaper during a very long drive, and Dad absolutely

refused to stop. Even though Mom begged, he simply threw the cloth dia-

per out the window, where it got caught on the car’s antenna and flapped

all the way to our next destination like a family flag! It was the same trip

our station wagon was sprayed by a skunk while the windows were down,

and when we stopped for the night at a motel, the front desk clerk refused

to let us have a room because we all smelled so bad. We eventually found

another motel who took pity on us.

We got used to bugging out at a moment’s notice, packing up, and

leaving cherished friends behind. Driving away with arms waving out the

window, shouting “I’ll miss you!” and promises to “Write every day!” Let-

ter writing was our sacred form of maintaining forever friendship bonds,

and we could not wait to get to our next duty station to check the mailbox

and pick up where we last left off.

Our childhood routines were typical of a military family; we shopped

at the commissary, exchange, and PX. Many of our doctor’s visits were

on base. We all had military IDs. Guards at the gate to the military base

would stand at attention and salute us as we drove through because we

had an officer’s decal on our car. We learned to salute at the dinner table

and repeat with proper, deep inflection, “Sir, yes sir!” We loved to dress

up in our dad’s helmet and old flight jacket and pretend we were pilots.

Each time we moved, Dad would build us wooden sandboxes, home-

made go-karts, and tree forts for us to play in wherever we lived. We

earned our turtle, duck, fish, and whale swim badges at public pools;

wrestled and boxed each other with our dad’s old boxing gloves in the

backyard; rode minibikes; and watched in the sky as Dad flew over our

house, tipping his wing and blinking his lights. The Fourth of July was

always a special holiday when Dad would light sparklers for us, and our

Preface

———

xviii

parents watched as we drew figure eights and wrote our names against the

black sky. Sometimes we all loaded up in the station wagon and watched

above in awe as the Blue Angels showed off their daring dives with incred-

ible teamwork and precision at the air shows. While loaded in the back

of the station wagon at drive-in movies, we would peek above the seats to

see the forbidden scenes that only our parents were allowed to watch.

We were taught that the U.S. flag must never touch the ground, and we

knew to respect it.

We looked up at our dad with wonder as he dressed

in his immaculately crisp uniform, with a perfectly starched crease down

his pants, spit-shined black shoes, and gold oak-leaf emblem on his cap.

White glove inspections and chores were to be strictly adhered to. We felt

like we were all in the Marine Corps, we just had different duties. Dad

always joked, “I can get 20 men to run 20 miles, but I can’t get one kid to

take the trash out!”

Coffee and cigarettes went hand-in-hand and were consumed reli-

giously by our parents all day long. Food bought from the commissary was

not a choice—it was a necessity (e.g., Spam and frozen fish sticks). Meals

were not exciting or fancy, but we always set the table and sat together

as a family (the whole year he was in Vietnam, we set a place for Dad).

We diligently collected enough green stamps to paste in the booklets and

order our mother a new hair dryer for her birthday.

We played kick-the-

can in the front yard and used trashcan lids as our bases for baseball.

Dancing in the den and playing ping-pong was our nightly entertainment.

Sibling rivalry was normal, and we often challenged each other, which led

to laughter and mutiny until spankings were sometimes the only solution

A great deal of change took place in the movie industry during the 1960s, including

a significant one that would overturn what many deemed outdated and unnecessarily

restrictive. By 1968, movie ratings that are similar to modern conventions were instituted.

G = general audiences or suitable for all ages; M = suggested for mature audiences and

subsequently was soon changed to GP and then PG for parental guidance suggested; R =

restricted audiences or no one under age 16 admitted without an accompanying adult; and

X = for those 16 years and older or not suitable for children.

Public Law 94-344, known as the Federal Flag Code, contains rules for handling and

displaying the U.S. flag.

S&H Green Stamps were trading stamps popular in the United States from the 1930s

until the late 1980s. They were distributed as part of a rewards program operated by the

Sperry & Hutchinson company. In 1964, the S&H Green Stamp catalog became the

largest single publication distributed in the United States. “Trading Stamp,” Encyclopedia

Britannica, 21 March 2018.

Preface

———

xix

to cool down the chaos. We certainly knew the meaning of: “Do you want

a spanking?”

Our military roots grounded us in the same way our parents, Ray and

Gig, were raised, as both were U.S. Army brats growing up. It was natural

to be patriotic Americans, and I am thankful to be the daughter of a Ma-

rine and for the childhood we had. Our father died way too young, which

is such a shame, but on reflection, being able to honor them with this

book is the gift we can give back to our parents and our family.

Generational Family History of Military Roots

Our family’s military roots run deep. Both of my parents were Army brats

with fathers who were soldiers and fought during two wars. Dad grew up

with fierce patriotism and dreamed of being a Marine officer and fighter

pilot, even as a young boy in the Boy Scouts in Illinois. He was raised the

son of an Army colonel, Kenneth Seymour Stice (1894–1956), who grad-

uated from the U.S. Military Academy at West Point in 1918. Our moth-

er, Elizabeth Kirkpatrick Stice, was also the proud daughter of an Army

colonel, Frank Smith Kirkpatrick (1889–1948), who graduated from West

Point in 1924. Gig and Ray met as children and even played together in

Champaign-Urbana, Illinois, when my grandfathers taught at the Uni-

versity of Illinois. My mother often told of how she remembered seeing

model airplanes attached to the ceiling in my father’s bedroom when she

played with his sister, Lucile. Both of my grandfathers served in World

War II (WWII) in the European theater, and my maternal grandfather

continued to serve in the Pacific theater during WWII before my parents

married.

I recently found a letter dated 7 June 1945 that describes how my

grandfather, Kirk Kirkpatrick, wrote home to his wife Priscilla, expressing

his joy and surprise about seeing his old Army buddy, Ken Stice, walking

down the street in Paris, France. They had drinks together and reminisced

about old times from Illinois.

Who knew that 11 years later their children would be married! After

doing research on each of my grandfathers and father’s military service,

I am in awe of how extraordinarily dangerous their jobs were, especially

Ray Stice died on 6 September 1978 in Travis, TX, at the age of 50, and was buried in

Austin Memorial Park. Elizabeth Stice passed on 13 March 2014 and was buried near her

husband.

Preface

———

during wartime. They, like so many others, were heroes who volunteered

to sacrifice their lives every day for their country with humble dignity and

honor.

I also have immense respect for my mother and grandmothers’ sacri-

fices for our country. I consider them heroes in the same category as my

grandfathers. The responsibility of being military wives turned them into

resilient warriors. I cannot begin to imagine how stressful it was for them

to pack up and move as often as they had to and then navigate the job

of finding new homes, schools, commissaries, doctors, and friends. With

husbands gone for the duration of the war, the women were left to raise

children alone, and at the same time put on a brave face for everyone

else. While tucking their children into bed at night, I imagine they often

did not know if their love and life partner would make it through that

same night. These strong women learned to thrive and survive, despite

the mental and physical toll on them. I am sure each of the women in our

family frequently cried into their pillows at night, quietly, of course, so the

children would not hear their sobs, only to wake the next morning and

face the responsibilities that could not be escaped. They were part of the

“waiting wives” club, and they used every 1,440 minutes of the day to be

Figure 2. Family military service: Col Kenneth S. Stice (left) and Col

Frank S. Kirkpatrick (right)

Source: Stice family collection.

Preface

———

xxi

good wives and mothers, to be useful to others, and to make the world a

better place.

While waiting for the postman, they continued to write dai-

ly letters of love and encouragement to their spouses, and I firmly believe

it was the women who kept the men alive and healthy, at least mentally.

I see proof of it in the hundreds of expressions of love in these letters,

where they each carefully shared their concerns with their husbands in

measured words so as not to say anything distressing. I also read in my dad

and grandfathers’ letters the same careful use of words to keep their wives

and children from worrying. My grandfathers could never reveal their lo-

cation during World War II, as their letters were censored. The women in

my family also kept their marital relationships alive through expressions

of deep passion in their letters. Their spouses did the same in return.

How Ray and Gig Met:

Childbearing Years and Moves Around the Country

My grandmothers—Mildred “Milly” Bickmore Stice (1901–82) and Priscil-

la “Pris” Marshall Austin Kirkpatrick (1905–70)—were lifelong friends. By

coincidence, or what I like to call a “God incident,” Milly came to Austin

during March 1955 and showed Gig a picture of her son, Ray. She said

to Milly, “Tell him to look me up if he ever comes to Austin.” My grand-

mothers quickly connected the dots, and Ray drove up from Kingsville,

where he was in flight school, and called Gig. She answered the phone,

and heard a deep male voice who said, “Hello, this is Ray.” She laughed

jokingly and said, “Ray, who?” That was their first contact. He said he and

a friend had flipped a coin as to whether to go to Mexico or Austin. As

fate would have it, the coin pointed to Austin.

They had not seen each other since they were children, so it was if

they were meeting for the first time. My mother told us stories about her

first impression of seeing Ray that day. He came to the house wearing a

jacket with the collar flipped up. His shirt sleeves were rolled up with

cigarettes tucked underneath. She said he was very “cool” for 1955. She

described being attracted to this young, dark, tall aviator (tall being rela-

tive since she was only 5 feet tall and he was 5’9”) as he walked into my

grandmother Priscilla’s living room. Ray would drive up every weekend all

the way from Kingsville to see Gig.

For more on waiting wives, see Kathleen P. O’Beirne, “Waiting Wives,” U.S. Naval Insti-

tute Proceedings 102, no. 9 (September 1976).

Preface

———

xxii

They quickly fell in love. He said he had a surprise for her, stating,

“I’m going to marry you, but I don’t know what to do with you in the

meantime.”

Mom claims that he never asked, he just told her. He said, “I’m either

going to buy an airplane or get married.” We found in mom’s later writ-

ings where she admitted,

I didn’t like the thought of him leaving. All the boys were

always leaving, and they didn’t come back. I was by then

age 25, and tired of fighting off the boys. I was waiting

for a guy who would put me in the kitchen and make me

stay there.

Gig and Ray married three months later on 18 June 1955, in a small

chapel at the Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary. The same chapel

where my grandmother Priscilla married her sweetheart, Frank Kirkpat-

rick, on 23 July 1927, and my sister, Karen, married her husband, Bill

Ratliff, on 10 December 1977. That sacred chapel was also the site of our

mother’s beautiful memorial service in March 2014, almost 60 years after

Figure 3. Ray and Gig cruising in his Ford, ca. March 1955

Source: Stice family collection.

Preface

———

xxiii

walking under a full military procession with white gloves, swords aloft,

and satin sash-filled aisle to marry her pilot, then-First Lieutenant Ray

Bickmore Stice.

Shortly after their marriage, Dad received his naval aviator wings,

and Mom was present to pin on his wings. They then moved to Marine

Air Base Camp Lejeune in Cherry Point, North Carolina, after a quick

honeymoon in New Orleans along the drive. Gig learned quickly what it

was like to be married to a fighter pilot with orders to deploy for military

training exercises. Only a few months later, in 1957, Gig was six-months

pregnant and on her own, while Ray was sent on a three-month tour for

a Marine Corps-Navy amphibious exercise with 8,000 Marines on the is-

land of Vieques, Puerto Rico.

Regimental Landing Team 8, supported by Marine Aircraft Groups 26 and 31, on 17 May

1957 took part in TRAEX 1–57 at Vieques, Puerto Rico. Ralph W. Donnelly, Gabrielle N.

Neufeld, and Carolyn A. Tyson, A Chronology of the United States Marine Corps, 1947–1964,

vol. 3 (Washington, DC: Historical Division, Headquarters Marine Corps, 1971), 34.

Figure 4. Wedding of Ray Stice and Elizabeth Kirkpatrick

Source: Stice family collection.

Preface

———

xxiv

Babies, Babies, Babies, Babies, 1956–1964

My oldest sister, Karen, was born two months after Dad’s return from the

Caribbean exercise in Cherry Point on 7 July 1956. Ray was home a short

while after Karen’s birth before he was sent back to the Caribbean for

another Marine amphibious training exercise in March 1957.

When Dad was deployed this time, Mom was two months pregnant

with me. I was born in Cherry Point on 24 October 1957. At some point

before my birth, Dad was deployed on an aircraft carrier off the coast

Donnelly, Neufeld, and Tyson, A Chronology of the United States Marine Corps, 1947–1964,

vol. 3.

Figure 5. Capt Ray Stice in Panama during his deployment to Puerto Rico

Source: Stice family collection.

Preface

———

xxv

of Italy, and at the time of my birth Mom was alone.

She did not have

a name picked out for me when I was born. Mom was watching a soap

opera in the hospital, and she heard the name “Robin” and immediately

liked it; thus, the unremarkable story of my name.

In October 1958, we moved to Jacksonville, North Carolina. In De-

cember 1958, Mom was pregnant again but caught the flu and miscarried

on the move to Marine Corps Air Station El Toro, California. We lived in

a Quonset hut until we finally received our living quarters on base. Soon

after, Mom was pregnant again with our brother, Kirk, who was born on

9 October 1959 in El Toro.

A few months after Kirk’s birth, Dad was deployed on a one-year tour

to Japan.

In December 1960, Mom was alone with three young children

under the age of four, so we moved back to Austin to be near her mother,

who lived a few blocks away for help that year.

In late December 1962—right after the Cuban Missile Crisis—we

moved to Nebraska, while Dad went to back to school at the University

Donnelly, Neufeld, and Tyson, A Chronology of the United States Marine Corps, 1947–1964,

vol. 3, 35.

Donnelly, Neufeld, and Tyson, A Chronology of the United States Marine Corps, 1947–1964,

vol. 3, 47–48.

Figure 6. Gig with her mother,

Priscilla Kirkpatrick, during Ray’s

deployment to Japan, ca. 1960

Source: Stice family collection.

Figure 7. Karen, Kirk, and Robin

Stice in Omaha, NE, ca. 1962

Source: Stice family collection.

Preface

———

xxvi

of Omaha. When we arrived in Nebraska, the temperature was below 0

degrees.

We moved again six months later to Beeville, Texas. Dad was a flight

instructor for three years at Naval Air Station Beeville, and during this

time, my youngest sister, Kathy, was born on 16 November 1964. Ten

days after Kathy’s birth, we moved to Quantico, Virginia, and spent 1965

there while Dad worked on his clearance and training in preparation for

the Vietnam War. We lived at the bottom of a very steep hill and school

was at the top.

On MCB Quantico, the schools and family housing are located on Purvis Road, which

is known for its hilly terrain. Ashurst Elementary was likely the school attended by the

Stice children, though it closed in 2015 after serving Marine families for more than 50

years.

Figure 8. Gig with Karen, Robin, and Kirk in Beeville, TX, ca. 1964

Source: Stice family collection.

Preface

———

xxvii

By 1966, we were back in Austin while Dad served in Vietnam and

Mom was alone again for a year, but this time with four young children.

Their letters to each other during this period culminated in this book.

Exactly three weeks after arriving at Chu Lai, Vietnam, Dad became

the executive officer of Marine Air Base Squadron 13 (MABS-13). It was

the largest outfit in the group. Dad was responsible for coordinating the

construction of an entirely new military air base with all its associated

facilities, and he did it all during active combat. The job had to be incred-

ibly challenging, especially since he was also flying daily combat missions

directly into and along the demilitarized zone (DMZ).

When not flying and building an air base, he oversaw hundreds of

personnel, including all disciplinary actions, along with preparing awards

and citations for those who earned them. Dad did a fantastic job describ-

ing his new job duties in Vietnam in a detailed letter to mom dated 20

October 1966:

I hope you can grasp the scope of the problems–runways–taxi-

Figure 9. Karen, Robin, Kirk, and Kathy in Quantico, VA, ca. 1966

Source: Stice family collection.

Preface

———

xxviii

ways–ramps–Tacom–GCA–approach control–nav[igation]

aids of all sorts–aerology–the tower & crew & comm. gear–

crash crew & gear–hangers–ready rooms–shelters–ammo

dumps–supply warehousing–quarters of all types–roads–elec-

tricity–sanitation, garbage–food–water–mess halls–officer

spaces–hospitals–disbursing–motor transport–passive and

active defense–military police–those are just a few of the

things I can think of, plus the clubs & PX’s etc. Tell Kirk I’m

going to build a fire station–tell Karen I’m going to build a

library–tell Robin I’m going to build a restaurant and tell the

damned bugs to leave me alone, so I can tell you God damn

I miss you!

Dad had only been home from the war for less than two weeks before

we packed up and moved to Beaufort, South Carolina, in December 1967.

Dad was the executive officer of VMFA-333 at the Marine Corps Air Sta-

tion Beaufort until his retirement in 1970. I will always remember the

powerful saying shown at the entrance of the base, “The Noise you Hear

is the Sound of Freedom.” The air base was the jumping-off point for the

250,000 Vietnam War veterans who got their start at tiny Parris Island.

Our last move was back to Austin on 31 March 1970. Seven days after

Dad retired, Mom’s mother died on 7 April 1970 at the age of 64. It took

Mom an entire year to recover from her mother’s passing. The Stice family

has called Austin home since.

We Salute You

Thank you, Mom and Dad, for leaving us the gift of your handwritten let-

ters that “help us remember old times.” This book is our family’s tribute

to both of you. We have all enjoyed your unique wisdom, insight, wit, and

“sort of reminisce.”

As Dad said in his letter on 21 February 1967,

[It] takes a war to make people realize there are such things

in life as love and families, and a reason for things–many

TACOM refers to U.S. Army Tank-Automotive and Armaments Command; GCA refers

to ground-controlled approach or a service provided by air-traffic controllers to guide air-

craft to a safe landing, including in adverse weather conditions, based on primary radar

images; and aerology refers to the study of the atmosphere from ground level.

Preface

———

xxix

reasons. And I’m never too old to learn a few things about

life–I’ve learned a few new things over here that’s for sure.

Like how extremely fortunate we are to have each other’s

love–I guess that’s the most important thing–and our children

will find their loves when the time is ready and right–I’m

certain of that.

It is my hope that future descendants will someday open the pages

of this book, read these beautifully handwritten letters of love, written

during war, and be taken back to a time in history that might otherwise

be forgotten.

Reading our parents’ letters has allowed us to rediscover new, wonder-

ful, and poignant things about both of them. Our father passed away in

1978 at the young age of 50, and we have missed not having him around

for most of our adult lives. Experiencing his wry, clever personality and

hearing his voice in these letters has brought him back to us once again

as if time never stopped. One of my favorite lines in all of Dad’s letters

Figure 10. The Stice family in Beaufort, following Ray’s retirement, 1970

Source: Stice family collection.

Preface

———

xxx

was written on 17 August 1967, when he only had two months left on his

tour of duty in Vietnam. He was obviously contemplating what retirement

would look like after he returned to the states to finish his military career.

He said, “Someday when someone asks, ‘What do you do, sir?’ I’ll stop

Figure 10. Ray and Elizabeth Stice wed in Austin, TX, 18 June 1955

Source: Stice family collection.

Preface

———

xxxi

and back up a pace and answer, ‘I was a Marine for a while, but I’m a

father now’.”

It is with humble gratitude that we say thank you for coming back

into our lives through these letters and being a father and mother to us

once again. We are proud to be “Marine brats,” and we are proud to say

our father, Major Ray Bickmore Stice, was a jet fighter pilot in the United

States Marine Corps who fought for America and gave it his all.

We are proud to say our mother, Elizabeth Kirkpatrick Stice, was an

aviator’s wife, who loved us deeply and sacrificed everything for us. In the

words of our parents—the major and the missus—“sending lots of love and

kisses.”

Semper Fi,

Karen, Robin, Kathy, and Kirk (deceased)

2023

———

xxxiii

SELECT TERMS,

ABBREVIATIONS, AND

ACRONYMS

A/C aircraft (Ray); air conditioner (Gig)

ALO air liaison officer

APO Army Post Office

arrest use of mechanized gear to rapidly decelerate a plane on

landing

arty artillery

ARVN Army of the Republic of Vietnam

AWOL absent without leave

BDA battle damage assessment

cank mission/flight canceled

CO commanding officer

CNO Chief of Naval Operations

DMZ demilitarized zone

dozo From the Japanese, it has several meanings depending on

the situation: here you go, go ahead, help yourself, or you

first.

early early early morning report time

EOD explosive ordnance disposal

FAC forward air controller

FMFPAC Fleet Marine Force, Pacific

Gs measure of acceleration equivalent to gravity

GCA ground-controlled approach

Select Terms, Abbreviations, and Acronyms

———

xxxiv

GI government issue

H&HS Headquarters & Headquarters Squadron

H&MS Headquarters & Maintenance Squadron

hooch Korean and Vietnam War slang for a thatched hut or im-

provised living space (e.g., inside a sand-bagged bunker

or improved foxhole)

hop mission-based flight

KBA killed by air

KIA killed in action

LST landing ship, tank

MABS Marine Air Base Squadron

MAF Marine Amphibious Force

MAG Marine Aircraft Group

MAW Marine Aircraft Wing

MCAS Marine Corps Air Station

MIA missing in action

MOS military occupational specialty

natch naturally

NBC nuclear/biomedical/chemical

NCO noncommissioned officer

PX post exchange or commissary

rack bed

RIO radar intercept officer

ROK Republic of Korea

R&R rest and relaxation

RVN Republic of Vietnam

SAC Strategic Air Command

SAM surface-to-air missile

secondary alternate mission

SNCO senior noncommissioned officer

TAC Tactical Air Command

TACA tactical air coordinator (airborne)

TACAN tactical air navigation system

TACOM tactical command

TACON tactical control

TAD temporary active duty

UN United Nations

Select Terms, Abbreviations, and Acronyms

———

xxxv

utilities military camouflage uniform of loose button-up, long

sleeve shirt and baggy trousers

VMFA Marine Fighter Attack Squadron

VR visual reconnaissance

WX weather

XO kisses and hugs; also a military term for executive officer

to the Missus

FROM THE MAJORFROM THE MAJOR

———

INTRODUCTION

By John M. Curatola, PhD

The Vietnam War had many inflection points and transitions with the

very nature of the conflict morphing over time. The way it was fought, the

tactics used, and even the larger strategic imperatives all changed as the

war unfolded. For the United States, the war was an element of the Cold

War and grew from an insurgency that slowly built in intensity, morphing

into a conventional fight. As much as the conflict changed, so too did

American society. Social movements called into question not only the

war and its conduct, but the existing status quo and social hierarchies.

The 1960s were unlike any era in American history, as the decade stood

witness to the limits of American military power, and the Vietnam War

served as a lightning rod for other issues related to American social and

cultural values.

Chronicling the mid-60s were Major Ray Stice and his wife Elizabeth,

or “Gig,” as he referred to her. A Marine aviator in Vietnam from 1966 to

1967, Stice observed the expansion of the war in Southeast Asia. Simulta-

neously, stateside Elizabeth was witness to the changing nature of Amer-

ican society. During his 13-month tour, the couple collectively wrote 459

letters. Forgotten with the excitement of his return from Vietnam, they

were fortunately found by their daughter Robin years later when cleaning

out the garage. This collection serves as a kind of time capsule recording

both the war and the turmoil at home during a period of great change.

In their correspondence, it is evident that both Ray and Elizabeth were

John M. Curatola

———

caught up in these events and tried to come to terms with an emerging

American society and an increasingly unpopular conflict.

The United States inherited the conflict in Southeast Asia after the

French defeat at Dien Bien Phu in 1954. Following the French collapse

and victory of the Viet Minh, the Geneva Accords of 1954 split Vietnam

into two countries with a Communist north and a democratic south. To

settle the existing division, the Geneva Accords included planned elec-

tions in 1956. However, South Vietnamese president Ngo Dinh Diem

canceled the election, leaving the country split. Regardless, Communist

leader Ho Chi Mihn remained fully committed to removing Western co-

lonial influences and sought to join the nation as a unified state. While

Communist forces infiltrated the south and attacked villages, killing thou-

sands of civilians, the South Vietnamese government was hardly a repre-

sentative democracy and was widely considered a corrupt and ineffective

regime. Despite the South Vietnamese government’s many shortfalls, its

anti-Communist stance easily aligned with larger American strategic ob-

jectives. The north’s aggressive infiltrations continued into the next de-

cade, resulting in a growing need for U.S. military presence.

The 1964 Gulf of Tonkin incident provided the casus belli for the sig-

nificant increase in American military participation.

Airpower was quick-

ly seen as an expedient way to deter Communist offensive actions and

defeat its military effectiveness. Striking targets in North Vietnam served

as a kind of diplomatic response to Viet Cong incursions. Simultaneous-

ly, close air support (CAS) for ground forces engaged in the south was

a force multiplier, providing a distinct tactical advantage for American

forces and their Army of the Republic of Vietnam (ARVN) allies. As the

number of targets in North Vietnam increased, so too did America’s com-

mitment. The U.S. footprint in South Vietnam grew significantly from

Adm U. S. Grant Sharpe, Strategy for Defeat: Vietnam in Retrospect (Novato, CA; Presidio

Press, 1978), 10–23; John A. Farrell, Richard Nixon: A Life (New York; Vintage Books,

2017), 226, 314–15; David L. Anderson, ed., The Columbia History of the Vietnam War

(New York; Columbia University Press, 210), 30–31; and Robert F. Turner, Vietnamese

Communism: Its Origins and Development (Stanford, CA: Hoover Institution Press, Stanford

University, 1975), 30–31, 94.

Tonkin Gulf Resolution, Public Law 88-408, 88th Cong., 2d Sess. (7 August 1964),

General Records of the United States Government, Record Group 11, National Archives.

This resolution gave President Lyndon B. Johnson the authority to increase American

involvement in the conflict and served as the basis for the administrations military policies

in Vietnam.

Introduction

———

1965 to 1967, as tens of thousands of troops arrived “in country.” These

increases were symbiotic; as more Americans became engaged in ground

combat, they required significantly more CAS.

The increase in American combat operations also required new bases

and stations. Da Nang originally served as a major hub for Air Force and

Marine aircraft during the opening years of the war.

However, it was clear

that additional fields were required. As a part of this growing effort, the

Marines proposed establishing an expeditionary airfield at Chu Lai in

the Quang Nam Province. As more Marines deployed to Vietnam, the

idea of building an expeditionary base quickly gained traction. A site ap-

proximately 64 kilometers southeast of Da Nang was chosen by the Fleet

Marine Force, Pacific (FMFPAC) commander Lieutenant General Victor

H. Krulak.

Approved by President Lyndon B. Johnson in April 1965, the base

was to be operational by 28 May. After removing 400 local Vietnamese,

Marine engineers and Navy Seabees went to work preparing the site. True

to their expeditionary nature, the Marines planned an airfield using the

Short Airfield for Tactical Support (SATS) system. Instead of pouring

concrete and building permanent structures, the SATS system used fixed

metal planks secured on leveled ground for use as runways and taxi strips.

Leveling the red dirt took longer than expected, with the first piece of

runway laid on 16 May. While the initial target date was missed, a 4,000-

foot runway was in place by the end of the month. Eventually an 8,000

foot runway was built with accompanying taxiways and parking ramps. Al-

though building runways and taxi ways was a start, to service the aircraft

and support operations the airfield needed fuel farms, bomb dumps, re-

pair facilities, billeting spaces, chow halls, heads, administrative building,

along with other supporting infrastructure.

On 1 June, four Douglas A-4 Skyhawks from Marine Fighter Attack

Squadron 225 (VMA-225) arrived, followed hours later by four other Sky-

hawks from VMA-311. That same day Chu Lai-based aircraft performed

Capt Robert H. Whitlow, USMCR, U.S. Marines in Vietnam: The Advisory and Combat As-

sistance Era, 1954–1964 (Washington, DC: History and Museums Division, Headquarters

Marine Corps, 1977).

Jack Shulimson and Maj Charles M. Johnson, USMC, U.S. Marines in Vietnam: The Land-

ing and the Buildup, 1965 (Washington, DC: History and Museums Division, Headquarters

Marine Corps, 1978).

Shulimson and Johnson, The Landing and the Buildup, 1965, 30–31.

John M. Curatola

———

their first combat missions launching from this new location.

By fall the

air base also included a nearby landing field to the north that housed

rotary-wing assets from Marine Aircraft Group 16 (MAG-16). Once finally

established, the Chu Lai location was central to Marine operations in

the I Corps area as it served as a staging base for combat operations with

accompanying fires support and logistical functions.

In October 1966, Ray Stice arrived at Chu Lai and served as the

executive officer for Marine Air Base Squadron 13 (MABS-13). Sent to

Vietnam on individual orders, meaning he did not deploy with a unit,

Stice was assigned as the second-in-command of MABS-13, overseeing the

further development and daily operation of the Chu Lai facility. A fixed-

wing aviator with time in both Marine Fighter Squadron 312 (VMF-312)

and VMF-314, he had already logged hours in single-engine fighters such

as the North American FJ2 Fury and the Douglas F4D Skyray. However,

Shulimson and Johnson, The Landing and the Buildup, 1965, 41–42.

Shulimson and Johnson, The Landing and the Buildup, 1965, 65.

Figure 12. Helicopters at Chu Lai, ca. 1966

Source: official U.S. Marine Corps photo.

Introduction

———

his new assignment was more ground-centric. An airfield operates like a

small town. MABS-13 had the responsibility to not only ensure the air-

field could support combat operations, but also had the more mundane

tasks of feeding, housing, cleaning, and caring for the thousands of Ma-

rines living at the facility. While providing showers, billeting, and food,

MABS-13 was also responsible for various airfield services such as weather

and radar support, explosive ordnance removal (EOD), and crash fire and

rescue services. In addition to ensuring base functions, Stice also had to

concern himself with airfield security, as it was often surrounded by ene-

my positions and within range of Viet Cong mortar and rocket attacks.

However, while saddled with these responsibilities, Major Stice

carved out time from his regular duties to fly combat missions. Among

the regular squadrons of A-4s and helicopters, the facility had a few older

Grumman TF-9J Cougar aircraft that were of Korean War vintage. While

not the “hottest” or newest aircraft in the inventory, the TF-9s were still

Shulimson and Johnson, The Landing and the Buildup, 1965, 30–31.

Figure 13. A Marine TF-9 Cougar of Headquarters & Maintenance

Squadron 13 (H&MS-13) in Chu Lai in 1967

This aircraft might have been on flown by Maj Ray Stice during his time

in Vietnam.

Source: official U.S. Navy, National Museum of Naval Aviation, photo no.

1996.253.7404.005.

John M. Curatola

———

useful for spotting artillery, providing CAS, or as a forward air controllers

(FACs) directing other aircraft in support missions. During his 13-month

tour, Stice amassed 163 combat missions and earned 12 Air Medals. From

1966 to 1967, he observed firsthand the changing nature and increasing

violence of the fight in Vietnam.

Through the couple’s correspondence, we gain insight into the chang-

ing nature of the conflict overseas, but we are also provided a greater

awareness of social and political forces at work back in the United States.

The 1960s were a time of great social change in America as civil rights

advocates, antiwar protesters, feminists, and counterculture movements

represented a general questioning of authority. A sentiment clearly op-

posite of the 1950s, when conformity was the order of the day, govern-

ment authority was inherently accepted, and the Christian nuclear family

served as the bulwark to godless Communism. The 1960s bucked such

paradigms and called into questioned conventional constructs. The chil-

dren who watched Howdy Doody and The Mickey Mouse Club in the 50s

became the radicals of the 60s.

In their letters to each other, Ray and Elizabeth exchange their views

on these new social movements and the emerging military effort in South-

east Asia. While intimate in discussion, the collection of letters chronicles

the expansion of the conflict in Vietnam along with the changing nature

of America society. The American public owes a debt to the Stices and

their children for not only preserving this history but allowing us to peer

into their private lives. Their correspondence provides an insight into

what one Marine family experienced, is indicative of the issues reflecting

the nation at large, and chronicles this turbulent time in American his-

tory.

Maj Ray B. Stice, “Chronological Record of Duty Assignments,” 19 June 1946–31 March

1970, Stice Family Records.

Howdy Doody premiered in 1947 on NBC in black and white and was the first nationally

televised American children’s program. The western-themed show featured Buffalo Bob

Smith and his wooden marionette Howdy Doody. The later years saw color programming

until the final episode on 24 September 1960. The Mickey Mouse Club first aired on ABC

in 1955, hosted by Jimmy Dodd and the Mousketeers. The American variety show was

produced by Walt Disney but canceled after its fourth season due to contractual issues

with ABC. It was revived several times: The New Mickey Mouse Club (1977–79); The All-New

Mickey Mouse Club (1989–94); and Club Mickey Mouse (2017–18).

Introduction

———

Airplanes flown by Major Ray B. Stice during his Marine Corps career:

T U-1

U.S. military designation for

the De Havilland DHC-3

Otter light transport aircraft

Source: official U.S. Army photo.

F J-2, 3, 4 FURY

North American’s series of

swept-wing carrier-capable

fighter/bombers

Source: official U.S. Navy Na-

tional Museum of Naval Avia-

tion photo 1996.253.7229.003.

F9F PANTHER

A U.S. Navy Grumman F9F-2

Panther of Fighter Squadron

112 (VF-112)

Source: official U.S. Navy photo.

F9F-8 COUGAR

A U.S. Marine Corps Grum-

man TF-9J Cougar of Head-

quarters and Maintenance

Squadron 13 at Chu Lai

Source: official U.S. Navy Na-

tional Museum of Naval Avia-

tion photo 1996.253.7404.005.

John M. Curatola

———

Airplanes flown by Major Ray B. Stice (continued):

GRUMMAN F4D-1

SKYRAY

This aircraft is a carrier-based

fighter/interceptor

Source: official U.S. Marine

Corps photo.

GRUMMAN F8F

BEARCAT

Marine Fighter Squadron 321

flying over Washington DC,

ca. 1950

Source: official U.S. Marine

Corps photo.

DOUGLAS A-4

SKYHAWK

The Skyhawk is a single-seat

subsonic carrier-capable light

attack aircraft, ca. July 1975

Source: official U.S. Marine

Corps photo.

F4B BOEING

PHANTOM

A McDonnell F-4B Phantom

II of Marine Fighter Attack

Squadron 115 over Vietnam

on 25 December 1969

Source: official U.S. Marine

Corps photo.

Introduction

———

Airplanes flown by Major Ray B. Stice (continued):

NORTH AMERICAN

SNJ-4

A training aircraft used to

test viability of aircraft carrier

use by Naval Air Transport

Command, ca. April 1946

Source: courtesy of Bill Larkins.

NORTH AMERICAN

T-28 TROJAN

Designed to transition pilots

to jet aircraft, ca. 1973

Source: official U.S. Navy

National Museum of Naval Avi-

ation photo 1996.488.162.128.

LOCKHEED C-140

JETSTAR

This version of the JetStar

was also used by the U.S. Air

Force for transport, ca. 1979

Source: courtesy of Lockheed,

photo 1443803.

CESSNA 310

A twin-engine aircraft used

throughout the Vietnam the-

ater, some aircraft continued

in military service into the

mid-1970s

Source: official U.S. Army photo.

John M. Curatola

———

Airplanes flown by Major Ray B. Stice (continued):

BEECHCRAFT

C-45 EXPEDITOR

The C-45 was the World

War II military version of the

popular Beechcraft Model 18

commercial light transport

Source: official U.S. Air Force

photo.

FAIRCHILD C-119

FLYING BOXCAR

U.S. Marine Corps Fairchild

R4Q-1 Flying Boxcar of a

Marine transport squadron in

1950, which was identical to

the USAF C-119C

Source: official U.S. Navy Naval

Aviation News, August 1950.

LOCKHEED C-180

SKYWAGON

Cpl Trevor Winterton (left),

and Sgt John Ellis load a

Cessna aircraft with 2.75-inch

white phosphorous rockets on

3 August 1966

Source: Australian War Memo-

rial.

———

OCTOBER 1966

Friday night

9 October 1966

Hello there or something like that. Sitting here on pins and needles—tape

and no GDT in recorder—insured mail notice and post office closed!

Beer cans rusting out (no ice box) and just finished an ADMAT [adminis-

trative material] inspection . . . remember them? Ugh . . . How about send-

ing me a needle and thread kit: black, white, green, and khaki threads?

Last night, as I almost finished with your letter, I got a phone call

(that’s another story, our phones) from Colonel Owen L. Owens say-

ing, “Come to my hut!”

So I slogged—that’s a slow jog down the street

(sand)—and “reported as ordered.” He wanted to show me how “great

GDT refers to gas discharge tube. Unlike microprocessor-based electronic equipment,

the GDT acts as a less vulnerable high energy handler that, unlike AC power, does not

leak current.

According to official Marine Corps records, Stice deployed on 15 October 1966 as part

of Marine Air Base Squadron 13 (MABS-13), Marine Aircraft Group 13 (MAG-13), 1st

Marine Aircraft Wing (1st MAW), Fleet Marine Force (FMF). Ray B. Stice, “Chronological

Record of Duty Assignments,” 19 June 1946 to 31 March 1970, Stice family collection.

According to the official history, LtCol Owen L. Owens was the commanding officer of

MABS-13 from 9 September to 31 December 1966. Jack Shulimson, U.S. Marines in Viet-

nam: An Expanding War, 1966 (Washington, DC: History and Museums Division, Head-

quarters Marine Corps, 1982), 347.

Chapter One

———

Figure 14. Map of Vietnam

Source: Perry-Castañeda Library Map Collection, University of Texas.

October 1966

———

his TV antenna worked.” He “Could tell the girls from the boys”—most

important for some reason I’m still not sure of—and, “Just wasn’t that

the greatest picture bar none.” “Yes,” (fortunately) “it was just great.” [He

says,] “Would I mind inviting the big boss [B-B] over?” “Of course!” (You

bastard, the mess hall just closed and I haven’t eaten since like 0530 this

morning at Okinawa, Japan.) I outs (British accent there) miself his door,

took a fearless step in the black toward the B-B’s hut, ran afoul the bloom-

ing barbed wire, projectiled miself into his ruddy septic tank hole (empty

I must say), crawled battered and beaten back to the bastard bloody boss

saying, “Does your colonelship have a flashlight, sir?”

Needless to say, “There’d been some changes made” in the couple of

days I was gone. And needless to say, I don’t have any.

Da Nang muddy? Wif, you ought to see our own homegrown type.

Today is the first time I’ve seen the sun in weeks! My Sears plastic raincoat

is all torn up, and I got another one in Kadena [Japan] fortunately—the

GI [government issue] raincoat leaks like a chamois. The sand (blowing)

was between the heavy showers—sometimes the wind gets up to 35 knots

(almost 40 mph) and I guarantee you the sand will blow.

You know what I’m going to do? Voluntarily observe an Elvis Presley

movie AND EYEBALL ALL THOSE PERTY GALS! Ray D. Pendergraft

and I are going to take turns closing our eyes when you know who is on

and signaling when it’s time to watch.

When I appointed you balancer of the exchequer, I did not expect

your books to be 20 cents off at the end of the month—20 kisses for you!

. . .

Just for pure spite . . . hey, all you sweet children—Karen, Robin,

Kirk, Kathy—listen. The one who yells the loudest gets a kiss! How’s them

apples?

Well, flick time. It’s always something time isn’t it—don’t know about

that—but I do know I love and miss ALL of YOU!

Ray

K . L

Given the date, the Elvis Presley movie could have been one of the year’s releases—Para-

dise Hawaiian Style, directed by Michael D. Moore (Hollywood, CA: Paramount, 1966); or

Frankie and Johnny, directed by Fred de Cordova (Beverly Hills, CA: United Artists, 1966).

Chapter One

———

Monday

10 October 1966

Dear Sweetheart,

I have this feeling you’re at Okinawa today and that the long first lap is

over. I’m still at the part of hardly being able to think about you without

getting weepy, but it is encouraging to think that once you get the trip

behind you, we can start writing. Somehow you always manage to make

me feel you’d really rather stay—last time it was telling Milly [Stice] in Dal-

las that you sure hated to leave us, and this time it was learning that you

were trying to jump out of the plane while it was out there on the runway.

Golly, Honey, I can just imagine that bunch of confused emotions

going on, tearing yourself away and then having a real need to come

back! You could practically have a short circuit at that point. I feel grate-

ful to that stewardess for calming you down. It’s a wonder they didn’t

have to strap you in. Mom and I tried to figure how the bag should get to

you and suppose it must have gone up on a mail plane. I feel sure you got

it and or you would have turned around for it. I was all ready to leap in

the car and carry it to you myself. Yes, you were right. It slipped my mind

completely, but I remember saying, “Won’t it be a load off your back to

get rid of us.” And you gave me a funny look and really didn’t want to

get that coffee.

I’m only sorry I didn’t get a chance to give you an extra big kiss here

at home. As it was, I had my worst moment when I saw your shoes in

the bedroom before you left, so I put them away so the homecoming

wouldn’t be so bad. It was rough but we did it and I’m proud of both of

us. Your phone call helped the kids a whole lot and they have been fine

ever since.

. . .

Sweet Kathy ran in the house saying “Dad” and acting like nothing

was different, so she took it the best. Wish I was her.

. . .

I ran out of cigarettes, but other than that you left me a couple of days

of being all “fixed” and a chance to see if my head was screwed on before

charging into the old world. My head is okay, I think—I’m just missing a

heart and you. Please adjust those, Darling. I’m sort of wobbly without

them!

October 1966

———

Now just get an APO [Army Post Office package] off to me soon and

I’ll be really happy.

I love you angel,

Gig

K . L

Thursday night

12 October 1966

Hi Sweetheart,

Golly, this first week seems awfully long without you. I’ll be really glad

when it’s over. Right now, I’m bushed from being “brave” at two affairs

where people badgered me about Vietnam. Everybody’s got a relative over

there, so I’ve had to listen to all their stories, take names, etc. That was

mostly at the gaggle of geese party for old Army wives, where I again ran

into Mrs. McGee and was corrected one more time that her husband was

a full general in the Marine Corps. When someone asked if I was “Air

Force,” she piped up and said, “Yup, Marine Air Force,” and winked at

me and said, “That oughta get ’em!” It appears that I am the only Marine

wife here, though I’ve met two mothers with Marine officer sons.

But the big deal today was the Kappa coffee, where there was a panel

discussion—with map—on Vietnam by five Army men who were just back

and two sergeants, a lieutenant colonel surgeon, two majors—all in uni-

form and they really had some good stories. One said he learned fast to

dig a really deep foxhole, and they also learned to blast out holes, which

were hidden caves. I asked one question, “What to send—or what did you

appreciate most?” and got razor blades, soap, pictures of kids in plastic

scrapbooks, and presweetened Kool-Aid for an answer. So you are now

the Kool-Aid kid!

I came home and gave a lecture to the kids on our Vietnam map.

Still no letter from you yet, and Milly warned it might be three weeks,

so I’m not expecting one yet. It sure will be good to hear from you, and

I do hope you find these at Okinawa. I’ll bet they latch on to you mighty

quickly though and put you to work with barely a breather. You just re-

Postal service for U.S. servicemembers goes back as far as World War I in the form of

numbered Army (APO), Fleet (FPO), and Diplomatic Post Offices (DPO) to ensure that

communications continued during a conflict or deployment.

Chapter One

———

member wars [that] aren’t won in a day and take a breather if only by

going to bed early, whenever and wherever.

. . .

I do hope this one-sided conversation ends soon and I can feel like

I’m talking to you once more.

Thanks for the $40 cash—it’s been a boon this week when I ran out

of checks.

I love you—or did you guess?

Gig

K . L

Thursday

13 October 1966

Hi Honey,

The past five days have really been jam-packed! To start with leaving my

hanging clothes and orders and records in Austin really got me off on the

right foot . . . ugh. It did arrive on the next flight, but I didn’t know it.

Some unknown person had carried it over to my Delta jet and given it to

the flight engineer and no one at Dallas, Texas, knew where it was! I was

going crazy trying to find out where it was and suddenly it materialized

out of the darkness as I was reluctantly getting on the Delta flight. Never

again!

Got to San Francisco in good time and the rest of my luggage ap-

peared out of a hole in the floor on a big rotating platform. Oh—sat the

Delta flight out between a Negro and a Frisco go-go dancer—what’s the

world coming to! Caught a midnight bus to Travis Air Force Base—got

BBQ and slept until 1100 Sunday morning. Got suited up, called a cab,

went to the overseas flight office, weighed in, got another cholera shot,

and ate a huge brunch.

Called Aunt Myrtle about 1300 and we left Tra-

vis right at 1600 in a big Boeing 707 World Airways jet. Took about five

hours to [get to] Hawaii. Stopped for fuel and 150 head calls and Karen’s

The U.S. military’s immunization program during the period was extensive. For more,

see John D. Grabenstein et al., “Immunization to Protect the US Armed Forces: Heritage,

Current Practice, and Prospects,” Epidemiologic Reviews 28, no. 1 (August 2006): 3–26,

https://doi.org/10.1093/epirev/mxj003.

October 1966

———

card and back aboard for the longest 10-hour night flight I’ve ever taken

to Kadena.

We were flying west into the sun, so the hours actually almost

stopped.

Most of the passengers were Marines and about one-third Air Force

and about 20 Army dependents. We arrived about midnight Monday,

and it took about another three hours to get our luggage and catch buses

out here to Camp Hansen way up north on Okinawa.

Weary, bleary, and

saddle sore, I slept until noon Tuesday. Some of the enlisted people had

orders here, but most of us are going on “down south” or “in-country” as

they say.

I still had the problem of what to leave, buy, and take all over again.

I’ve been going to clothing cash sales and the PX twice a day now, still

squaring things away. Basically, I needed wash khaki uniforms (cap, shirt,

and trousers) plus complete utilities.

No greens [service uniform]—no blouses—no coats—no tropical wor-

sted [summer uniform]—no civvies.

Everyone here added, “Take a fan because they’re still sleeping in

tents at Da Nang” and other goodies so I got a good eight-inch Japanese

fan and six more sets of underwear, a wind-up clock, etc.

The business of thinking I would be assigned a unit within the 1st

Marine Aircraft Wing (1st MAW) was a joke—all they know is send every-

one south and let them do it there.

Seems as though there’s an airplane

load each midnight, and the manifests are published each afternoon for

the following day’s flight. Doesn’t seem to be any particular pattern as to

when your name is on the manifest.

Got gamma globulin and flu shots, which is something akin to trying

to lift yourself with your own boot straps.

I’ll admit that the story about extending naval aviators in the Repub-

Head call refers to the military term for restroom break. Kadena Air Force Base, Okinawa,

Japan, is a major air hub for U.S. forces in the Far East. With two large runways, it often

serves as an air port of debarkation and embarkation for deploying forces.

Camp Hansen is a Marine Corp installation on the northern end of Okinawa that hous-

es permanently assigned ground force units and other organizations on a rotational basis.

MABS-13, Command Chronology (ComdC), December 1966, Box __, Folder 077,

1201077119, U.S. Marine Corps History Division Vietnam War Documents Collection,

Vietnam Center and Sam Johnson Vietnam Archive, Texas Tech University, Lubbock, TX.

Chapter One

———

lic of Vietnam (RVN) for an additional year rattled my cage.

It was Navy

aviators primarily. We felt their shortage in Beeville three years ago.

is not a new problem.

The Senate gave Lyndon B. Johnson authority to

call any and all reserves yesterday, that will help some.

I’m sure they’re

not extending Marine aviators.

Talked to a major from Da Nang yesterday and he said the chow

lacked fresh tidbits but was “good chow” and definitely not C-rations.

. . .

Got a big bug bomb like you recommended plus towel and wash

cloths. Cigarettes are only 15 cents here.

Some things are cheap here, some much more expensive. Okinawa

is like a little Japan—less developed and becoming almost as overgrown.

. . .

I had forgotten how oppressive the humidity feels but temperature

wise it’s only about 80 today, which isn’t bad.

I won’t be able to get my pay squared away here, so you just keep on

the same way. But your bank account should not go down more than

$200 each monthly statement or your spending is too great.

. . .

The Republic of Vietnam is the official name of South Vietnam. These terms may be

used interchangeably throughout this volume.

Beeville, TX, was the home of Naval Air Station Chase Field that served as a fixed-wing

training base for fledgling naval aviators. It was named for LtCdr Nathan B. Chase, who

died during a 1925 training mission in the Pacific. It was upgraded to a full naval air sta-

tion in 1968 and produced more than one-fourth of the Navy’s pilots during the Vietnam

War. Chase Field was closed in 1993 by the Base Realignment and Closure Commission

(BRAC).

For more on personnel shortages, see Shulimson, U.S. Marines in Vietnam: An Expanding

War, 1966, 262; and Jack Shulimson et al., U.S. Marines in Vietnam: The Defining Year, 1968

(Washington, DC: History and Museums Division, Headquarters Marine Corps, 1997),

570.

“1966: Senate Passes Defense Bill,” New York Herald Tribune, European Edition, 19 Au-

gust 1966.

One of the challenges of feeding troops during the Vietnam War was the absence of

a permanently established fighting front. A C-ration dinner might include hard bread,

a canned main course, crackers, chocolate or hard candy, cigarettes, chewing gum, and

coffee. C-ration entrées were simple—canned spaghetti and meatballs, beef stew, or franks

and beans—but cigarettes were still included, despite the 1964 surgeon general’s report

showing their harm. See Chrissie Reilly, “History Highlights: Military Food Research and

Development,” Defense Logistics Agency, 20 April 2016.

October 1966

———

Well, that’s about it for now, Darling. Sure is lonesome without you.

I really do love you, in case you’re curious.

Kiss my sweet children starting with Kirk, Robin, Karen, and Kathy.

Love,

Ray

K . L

Monday

16 October 1966

Darling,

The first week is over! Only 51 more to go. Hope they all aren’t so ac-

tion-filled. The last one got to Friday without too many mishaps other

than those described, but then Mom called and told about her accident in

the car, which didn’t hurt her except to make her very sore, but smashed

the car door and window. She called me later in the evening and said she

wanted me to come over to help the next day with all the Tellepsen crew

that was arriving and had been invited to stay for dinner and night, and

she was still a bit shaky, so I got a sitter and went over, of course. . . .

. . .

So this week is starting out cool. Kathy and I went to the bank the

other day and, while we waited for the car at the bank, she turned around

and saw the car and got very excited and said “Dad”! I thought that was

pretty cute.

. . .

Karen tried to paste four quarters on her letter, but I took them off.

But the thought was sweet.

All my love, sweetheart,

Gig

K . L

Karen Tellepsen married Ed Kirkpatrick in Houston right before Ray Stice left for the

war in 1966. Ed Kirkpatrick was Gig’s younger brother. Don Kirkpatrick was her older

brother.

Chapter One

———

16 October 1966

Hi Darling,

Yep, Chu Lai of all places. Friday, we bused to Kadena and caught a jet to

Da Nang, stayed at the transient facility overnight and the next morning

checked in with the wing G-1 (personnel).

He asked me what I wanted

and I told him my sad story. He told me that Chu Lai was going to have all

the McDonnell Douglas F-4 Phantom II’s although he did not have much

hope of my getting checked out in-country.

Da Nang was the dirtiest most fouled up junk pile I’ve ever seen. One

filthy mess. The flight down here only took about 30 minutes—after a 4

hour wait—but it took another 3 hours to get wheels across the field here

at MABS-13, so yesterday was mostly shot waiting.

Everyone says, “What are you current in?” Naturally, it’s a bit dis-

heartening to say the least. Cloyd H. “Rick” Klingensmith is a major here;

Joseph B. Wuertz tomorrow pins his on; Clyde Simon, Jack Acey (El Toro

with the pretty Asian wife next door), and a whole sling of captains and

majors I know or knew (like Lawrence A. Whipple), even one I hadn’t

seen since we were in flight school together. Only saw one familiar face in

Da Nang. To top off the gripe department, six of the seven captains who

were sent down to Beaufort from the Air Warning Squadron (AWS) to get

checked out in the F-4 are in the squadrons here. Well, now that they’ve

started sending single people instead of entire squadrons, they’ll have to

add in the training somewhere. One slim ray of hope as far as flying goes:

they have four of the old Grumman TF-9J Cougars that I flew in Beeville

for three years in Marine Aircraft Group 13 (MAG-13). They’ve put the

guns back in and all fixed up with rocket and bomb fixtures. I’ll bet the

Viet Cong think that the long-nose refueling probe is a 75mm cannon!

Today is Sunday, but you’d never know it for all the activity. We’re

living in small wooden frame shacks of five to six officers each. Tell Kirk

I’m sleeping on an old cot like the one he wanted to put up outside with

The G-1 is a staff position responsible for personnel at the division and corps level.

The term Viet Cong is a colloquialism meaning “Vietnamese Communist” that originat-

ed in the 1920s to differentiate the group from Chinese Communists. While some have

assigned pejorative value to the term, it is used here purely as a descriptive identifier. The

organization is also known as the Liberation Army of South Vietnam and the People’s

Liberation Armed Forces. See Brett Reilly, “The True Origin of the Term ‘Viet Cong’,”

Diplomat, 31 January 2018.

October 1966

———

a blanket for a pillow and a wobbly air mattress. I had to borrow a saw,

hammer, and nails to make a small table to write on and a bench to sit

on. The doors have screening but the sides are wide open. It’s a problem

of who can stick it out longer—me or the mosquitoes and bugs! But the

8-inch fan just barely runs on the 50 or 60 volts, and I have to stop every

once and awhile when the lamp gets too dim to see the paper. No hot

water anywhere, but they manage to pump enough cold water so that each

three or four shacks here have a water spigot. We “procured”—that means

stole—some pipe and bent it like so . . . and voilà pronto chango—a show-

er. There’s a round pipe out front for you know what, and a three-holer

[latrine] across the sands. Not bad, since you don’t have to worry about

invasion of privacy when there ain’t none.

All the squadron people seem to have known precisely where they

were going for months given the abundance of battery-powered stereo

tape decks, handmade (Japanese) steamer-type chests that have desks,

chairs, mattresses, lights and huge mosquito nets (room size), large built-in

drawers, and panels that fold all over the place. Jack Acey just came in two

hours ago and it looks like he’s been here 10 years! He was nice enough

to offer me a cold beer from his 1.5 cubic foot Japanese icebox on top of

which his 20-inch fan swings gaily back and forth.

Somewhere, I have to get some more goodies. I had no idea it was so

primitive here. Right now, I don’t even have any boxes to unpack into, no

laundry soap, not even a wash brush. All the other bases use local help for

all that or they have laundries. The chow is entirely edible, although no

tea for some reason. I haven’t caught any bugs yet (internally only).

Chu Lai is just down from the South China Sea, so naturally it’s all

one texture—ankle-deep fine sand. Completely exposed, no trees, just wild-

ly scattered little clumps of some odd bushes. They say the area is relatively

secure—whatever that means—and there are two runways Marine Aircraft

Group 12 (MAG-12) has one and their Douglas A-4 Skyhawks, and we

have the other one for the F-4s and Grumman F-9 Cougars. Our side is

brand new and just barely operational with a squadron, Marine Fighter

Attack Squadron 314 (VMFA-314), one-half now and one and a half more

next week. Got to do something about screens ASAP—the bugs just won.

I love you,

Ray

K . L

Chapter One

———

Tuesday night

18 October 1966

Hello Darling,

My, it was good to get your first letter yesterday. You and [President Lyn-

don B.] Johnson just were a week apart in your trips, though I think yours

was shorter as it took him 10 hours to get to Hawaii! I groaned for you on

your 10 hours to Kadena, Okinawa, but I was glad you had a fancy jet at

least to Hawaii.

I can well imagine your all-over sick feeling from all those shots and

do hope they have worn off by now. What a way to start a war! So glad you

got a couple of good sleeps in and a chance to get your wardrobe changed

to tropical gear. And, of course, that you found your bag in Dallas.

You still sounded like you were about to take off at any moment,

which evidently you did, and I’m sure you are there “in-country” by now.

Just in time for the monsoons, I hear.

I told you to take an umbrella! But

I know you know how to take care of yourself, and the wet won’t bother

you once you’re used to it . . . much. But I’ll bet you will be glad just to

stay in one place if only to give me a handy APO. Right?

Can you believe I drove to the commissary today thinking of you all

the way? The gate military policeman (MP) said my Quantico sticker was

fine—no sweat. . . . Tomorrow I’m supposed to turn around and go back

to the “Waiting Wives” tea, but my heart isn’t in it. Too long a drive for

these lazy bones. I’d rather iron.

. . .

Now, the newspaper clipping looks a wee grim if taken at worst: six

months back before going back for another year. If so, I can envision a

two-and-a-half-year tour here for me! I don’t think a six-month tour would

encourage you to want to pack us up. But as I said, that’s if taken at worst

and who wants to do that? Who the heck knows anyway, so let’s not sweat

it. As far as I want to see it’s 13 months and that’s far enough.

. . .

I found myself wondering if people will put responsibilities on you

in the same way just because you’re a new “rookie.” I’m sure you are ex-

The monsoons are seen in summer and winter, with the winter monsoon season lasting

from October to April. Winter monsoons are typically not as rainy as the summer season,

which lasts from April to September.

October 1966

———

pecting this, but as I told the kids tonight grimly, “Learn to say NO!” A

famous word I can’t ever seem to say now that you’re gone! Anyway, I’m

crossing my fingers for you that you can divide and conquer all your jobs

and I know you can.

Darling, don’t sweat writing. (I don’t mean that literally but wish it

were true.) Just get me an APO, which is hopefully better than Okinawa

if there is one, and I’ll carry most of the letter-writing ball. I’m trying to

make one every other day. Post office says they can come for 5 cents if you

want. Try one and I’ll time it. This letter from you mailed on the 14th got

here the 17th. It’s midnight here—good morning, Love!

XXXs,

Gig

K . L

18 October 1966

Chu Lai

Hi Honey,

I cannot help wondering when I’ll get my first letter—due to my moving

all over the place, you probably got the first one. The electricity has been

off all day, so I’m trying to hurry up before the sun goes down—I mean

before it gets too dark—it’s been raining all day.

When I was in Austin, all I could think was all the things I could

get and send home. Now, all I can think of is what I need! One of my

old Training Squadron 25 (VT-25) buddies is flying a transport to Japan

tomorrow [Major Richard T. Douglas].

I gave him a big green bill and a

long list of possible goodies, starting with a voltage control to boost the

wavering 50–80 volts we get up to 110 again, a big room-size mosquito net,

soap powder, brush, wash basin, big steamer trunk, clothesline and pins,

another fan, straw rugs, etc.

. . . As far as a job goes, I’m still unemployed. There are rumbles about

my being the MABS executive officer, but we’ll have to wait until next

week to see. VMFA-314 is due in Friday and then the S-1 (personnel) is

going to “present his personnel picture” to the MAG commanding offi-

The VT-25 Cougars was one of the training squadrons based at NAS Chase Field.

Chapter One

———

cer.

They want to get all the various strengths and rotation tour dates all

spread out neatly.

Remember—[Lieutenant Colonel John T. Murphy and Major Louis

F. Gagnon are] flying helicopters and really have some interesting tales to

tell. They’re getting hit quite a lot. We lost two men last night in a stupid

accident. They were visiting MAG-12’s enlisted men’s club across the field

and decided to take a short cut back here across their runway. An A-4

landing hit them.

We put in planking in front of our group of shacks, built a small

wash rack around the shower spigot, and things are looking up slightly.

We planted some trees and bushes outside the hut, brought some Korean

An S-1 is a staff position that is responsible for personnel at the battalion or brigade

level.

MAG-13, Command Chronology, October 1966, Box __, Folder 098, U.S. Marine

Corps History Division Vietnam War Documents Collection, Vietnam Center and Sam

Johnson Vietnam Archive, Texas Tech University, III-1.

Figure 15. Four U.S. Navy Grumman TF-9J Cougar of Training Squad-

ron 25 (VT-25) flying in formation

Note that two aircraft are fitted with inflight refueling probes, ca. 1960s

Source: U.S. Navy National Museum of Naval Aviation, photo no. 1996.253.

7410.015.

October 1966

———

beer from the Republic of Korea Marines [ROK Marines] here and had a

monsoon party. Be a good time for Charlie to raise hell.

I think tomor-

row we’d better dig and sandbag a bunker.

. . .

I went into the S-2 (intelligence) shop this morning and saw Clyde

Simon and told him to brief me. Well, he went on for 45 minutes without

stopping!

There’s an awful lot of flares going off tonight. Someone is nervous.

I sure hope Karen is doing better in her math. I think you should

go to class with her! Make sure you keep that practice of them making

up their beds and cleaning their teeth in the morning. Tell Kirk I’m still

using a hammer and a saw—today, I made a small shelf for my clock,

flashlight, and pocket knife. Try to use a lot of restraint and patience with

them—monsters as they may appear, they are beautiful children. I’ll be

glad to start flying and working so I can get my mind off of you all. It’s a

bit hard being in the same hut with all these squadron people—you know

all their spirit and camaraderie.

It is really hot and muggy here. I’m glad I came now in the fall so I can

get acclimatized with the seasons.

Got to “shower” and hit the air mattress—wish it was you!

I love you, Gig,

Ray

Kiss my kids for me, Dozo, starting with Robin this time.

K . L

Thursday night

20 October 1966

Hello again sweetheart,

And a real hello this time as we are in touch again at last a short four days

apart! Your letter from Chu Lai left there on the morning of the 17th and

got here the 20th at noon. Marvelous! I keep blessing the dear pilots who

fly our letters back and forth!

I was shocked of course to hear how bad Chu Lai is, but I’m glad

Collectively, the United States often called them the Viet Cong, which was commonly

shortened to VC, which in military alphabet code was spoken as Victor Charlie. It was

further shortened to just Charlie.

Chapter One

———

you gave it to me straight as I can really picture it now and even more

so, as Mom said Frank Shallene was there (building those runways) and

the temperature gets to 135 degrees in the summer! So description wise,

I’ve got the picture but I couldn’t find it on the map! Gotta get a better

map—or better eyes.

. . .

Yesterday was the Bergstrom Waiting Wives coffee and I met Mrs.

Haight, who got here in May from Quantico; her husband is at Da

Nang in public relations work at a French villa. Tough! Also two wives

(Kapacz), I think whose husbands were sergeants and made lieutenants

this summer. Kapacz was on the plane with you as he left Travis on Sun-

day too. Anyway, there are four of us in Austin. Kapacz was a sergeant

for 13 years.

. . .

Eat a lot and don’t be like this man in the article. I can’t see you los-

ing 40 pounds—Frank Shallene didn’t—besides you don’t have it to lose.

I do! Oh, what a pet I am.

. . .

It’s not easy to think of you under these conditions, so let me do

something and I’ll feel better. Just tell me what.

I love you too, Sweet Man,

Gig

K . L

20 October 1966

Hi Honey,

I should have brought my water wings [floaties]. I think the monsoons

have started. It’s been raining for three days now. Every once and awhile

it will slow down, and if you stick your head out, someone pours a bucket

on you—it’s that heavy.

We could hear some small arms fire this morning, there were a lot of

flares last night, and tonight nothing big. Our bunker is about half done—

that’s a lot of work—you have to make your own sand bags, of course.

The term waiting wives refers to the women left on base while their husbands were de-

ployed. See Ralph Blumenthal, “To Waiting Wives’ of Officers the War Is One More Job,”

New York Times, 4 October 1971.

October 1966

———

The Seabees are almost through with the shower next door—cold wa-

ter, but it’s out of the breeze.

And the new mess hall across the “street”

is getting the roof on today. That sure will be nice to get finished. Our

current “mess hall” is a tent about a half a muddy kilometer from down

the “road.” They don’t use concrete except for very necessary spots; they

use a local clay called laterite to make the sand cohesive. Actually, the only

time you need it is when the sand is dry and everything bogs down. In the

rain, the sand gives almost as good traction and a lot cleaner.

Did you notice the change of address? MABS-13 in place of Head-

quarters & Maintenance Squadron 13 (H&MS-13). Tomorrow, I am the

executive officer of the MABS.

It’s the largest outfit in the group. It’s go-

ing to be one hell of a challenge. In the states, the air stations are already

built and it would still be a big job. Here, we’re building a completely new

base and all the associated facilities in combat.

I hope you can grasp the scope of the problems: runways, taxiways,

ramps, TACOM, GCA, approach control, navigation aids of all sorts,

aerology, the tower and crew and communication gear, crash crew and

gear, hangars, ready rooms, shelters, ammo dumps, supply warehousing,

quarters of all types, road, electricity, sanitation, garbage, food, water,

mess halls, officer spaces, hospitals, disbursing, motor transport, passive

and active defense, military police.

Those are just a few of the things I

can think of. Plus, the clubs and post exchanges, etc.

The old executive officer is leaving and I’ll only have tomorrow to

slosh around, starting with the coffee with the colonel at 0630 and then

going to all the various areas and meeting all the officers and noncommis-

sioned officers (NCOs).

I don’t know how in the world I can ever get much flying in. I’d better

get prequalified in the F-9 fast, while I’m still numb.

The Seabees played an integral role in the creation and maintenance of U.S. bases in

Vietnam. See “Seabee History: Southeast Asia,” Naval History and Heritage Command,

16 April 2015.

Stice, “Chronological Record of Duty Assignments,” 2.

There are two terms that Stice may have been referencing—TACOM and TACON—for

tactical action. TACOM, or tactical command, refers to a commander with the authority

to assign forces to accomplish a mission from a higher authority; TACON, or tactical

control, refers to only control of movements and maneuvers necessary to accomplish a

previously assigned mission or limit the authority to direct combat forces. GCA refers to

ground control approach. It is a landing methodology where a controller on the ground

with radar can guide a pilot to the runway using voice commands over the radio.

Chapter One

———

The colonel (MABS commanding officer) was in Omaha with us, but

you never met him, and I barely met him.

Tell Kirk I’m going to build a fire station; tell Karen I’m going to

build a library; tell Robin I’m going to build a restaurant; and tell the

damned bugs to leave me alone, so I can tell you how God damn much

I miss you!

Love you,

Ray

P.S. I think I’ll have a piece of chain installed in each one of the four-

holers [latrines] with a little placard: “LEST WE FORGET.”

K . L

Saturday night at 2230

22 October 1966

Hi Sweetheart,

Today—rather tonight—was just like Christmas. Three of your first let-

ters—your wonderful letters—and my buddy came back from Japan with

a few goodies for me. Hog heaven! We’ve had a couple of rough days.

Yesterday, the commanding officer of VMFA-314 crashed on landing,

and this afternoon my roomie Joe Byrum pranged in the rain.

They all

got out okay, but we’ve torn up more air control and ground gear in the

last three or four days than the Viet Cong could in a month. We’ve done

pretty good routing out Charlie too. Our dogs caught a couple of them

buried in the sand Wednesday. And the rain—whew—we’re just soaking

wet every time you stick your head outside for some reason. Zap, you’re

soaked.

Work wise, I’m completely snowed—appears like we’re operating on a

mighty thin shoestring all around. This is a huge outfit and getting larger

all the time—more than 400 now going to 600, I guess.

. . .

I’m in much better shape now gear wise. I’m sure I’ll be able to pay

According to the command chronology, LtCol Darrel E. Bjorklund was the command-

ing officer of VMFA-314 at this time. MAG-13, Command Chronology, October 1966,

I-1. The term pranged is British slang for a minor accident or crash involving a vehicle or

aircraft.

October 1966

———

the house rent. There just isn’t too much you can buy here other than

soap, razor blades, and believe it or not KOOL-AID!

You send me some chocolate brownies in an air-proof tin and I’d be

your slave forever—as if I wasn’t—well forever and a day! It’s late as hell and

our all officers’ meetings go at 0700 sharp at MABS, and this morning the

only thing that woke me up was the rain splashing in through the walls

and roof. I was almost late for my first solo executive officer day.

I’m almost falling asleep—damn it, I love you so much.

Thank you for those sweet letters!

Ray

XO to everyone!

K . L

Sunday night

23 October 1966

Darling,

I was just resting in the living room after a long Sunday with the kids,

sorting the weekend out in my mind and I thought, “What the hell, as

I am lying here thinking, when I could be writing you?” I am really tired

tonight and feel sort of all in from carrying the load all by myself. Sundays

are really the worst. I’ve practically memorized your first two letters, and

I’m really anxious for the next. I haven’t written for three days because

I lost $5 worth of stamps and am really mad at myself.

But maybe my

presents will make up the lost day.

. . .

About that time, it was time to take Karen, so I dashed to the Civic

Theater with her and then home to feed Liz and the crew. Took all the

gang to the store later in the afternoon (minus Liz and after Kathy’s nap)

to buy goodies for Robin’s birthday party. Then home and Don came over

for supper as Mom went off for the weekend to Dallas to see the theater

with Trude, Flossie, and Alberta.

Don is a dear and very sweet to the kids, so he is relaxing to be with

and always appreciates my cooking—rice and hamburgers.

By today’s standards, $5 may not seem like a great sum; however, the 1967 to 2023 pur-

chasing power equivalent puts $5 then at approximately $45 today.

Chapter One

———

I stayed up late watching a Marine movie—look at the habits you got

me into—and ironing and folding clothes.

. . .

On the news just now, they say it is midday Monday. A spring morn-

ing in Australia. What season is it there?

I hope you haven’t had to pay extra stamps for my Kool-Aid in the

letters. I will quit that unless you tell me you like it. Sorry it can’t be beer.

Your beer is still in the icebox. And right now, I think I’ll have one! And

if that doesn’t show you something, I’ll eat my hat. It’s even kind of good.

Glug, glug.

We still have a rather large fan in the garage, Honey, which I could

freight to you if you want. But I’m sure you can get one there easier.

I know you are going to be extremely busy getting checked out in the

F-9 perhaps and so you mustn’t write more than a one-page letter. None

of this losing your eyesight trying to do it at night. I can rattle on about

things here at home for an hour and love every minute of it, but you

mustn’t try to answer in kind. Remember, I understand more than you

know, and I can read between the lines all sorts of things, so don’t try to

keep me happy in your letters, but reassuring me about— Oh hell, who am

I trying to kid now? I love you, Sweetheart, and that just says it all.

Goodnight my love,

Gig

K . L

Monday night

24 October 1966

Hi Honey,

Tonight, it dawns on me—Robin’s birthday—such a good deal. You tell her

I’m sure sorry I couldn’t send her anything. There’s nothing to buy if you

don’t like soap and razorblades!

There were many films on the U.S. Marine Corps released in the decades prior to 1966

that could have been on television at this time, including 6th Marine Division on Okinawa

(1945); All the Young Men (1960); Battle Cry (1955); The D.I. (1957); Flying Leathernecks

(1951); Halls of Montezuma (1951); Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison (1957); Here Come the Marines

(1952); Marines, Let’s Go (1961); The Outsider (1961); Retreat, Hell! (1952); Tarawa Beachhead

(1958); To the Shores of Hell (1966); What Price Glory? (1952); and A Yank in Viet-Nam (1964).

October 1966

———

The last letter I got from you was written 10 days ago. I guess those

first three letters upset the applecart.

Would you believe that I’m eating popcorn! Not much, but its real!

Someone brought an electric popper and the voltage happens to be high

enough to do the trick. You could send me a half dozen cans of unpopped

popcorn for your first packaging attempt.

Would you believe that I’m drinking cold beer! Someone scrounged

up an old rusty icebox and managed to get it working.

Would you believe we’re watching Twelve O’clock High!

No . . . well

that would be too much, but it’s true! Joe Byrum got in a small Japanese

TV somewhere—probably the only one in Chu Lai, I’m sure. We rigged

up an antenna of sorts, fiddled, and diddled, and presto channelize—Da

Nang TV!

. . .

Charlie isn’t quitting, that’s for sure. There was all kinds of activity all

last night—mostly artillery and mortars—several of them sounded like they

were right next to the hut, but of course they weren’t. I would have sworn

they were though. Looks like Dean Martin now—kind of hard to say with

only 85 volts and no real antenna or lead in wire.

Looks like the 4th of July with all the flares out there.

. . .

I’ve only been executive officer of MABS for two days and I’m right

up to my ears—the skipper, Lieutenant Colonel Owens is going to try to

catch a Lockheed C-130 Hercules to Da Nang and get some flight time. I

guess he trusts me—I don’t know. We have 500 people all over the place,

running and building a whole air station at the moment. Sure wish we

had 200–300 more. Everyone is stretched so thinly they’re working 12–

16–18 hours a day. . . . It finally quit raining for a while this afternoon

after almost a week of drenching downpours. I have to make a hot locker

for my gear. I scrounged an old metal wall locker so I’ll have to drill some

holes in it and get an electric light inside to keep my clothes from mildew-

ing. Those plastic clothes hangers didn’t work out too well—not enough

space, too windy, and too much moisture anyway.

Twelve O’clock High highlighted the strategic bombing campaign over Germany during

World War II. It specifically addressed the stressful nature of the air war and the toll it

took on Army Air Corps aviators. Twelve O’clock High, directed by Henry King, starring

Gregory Peck (Los Angeles, CA: 20th Century Studios, 1949).

Chapter One

———

. . .

Met a major from the battalion that’s guarding to the north. All he

wanted was our empty beer bottles. He said Charlie really hates to crawl

over broken glass around their positions, but all their beer was in cans.

They’ve even had signs written in Vietnamese saying “mines” and planted

old can’s and ammo boxes in the ground with claymores [antipersonnel

mines] on them. Lots of room for ingenuity.

Got to take a bath you know . . . cold shower, I mean. Want to join

me outside in front of the entire MAG? That ought to stop ’em. Well, too

late, I just took my shower without you. See, wouldn’t it be nicer if I had

all those nice showers we didn’t take together to remember?

The 20 piasters and MPC is for Robin because that’s all there is, with

borrowing privileges reserved for Karen and Kirk, of course.

I love you, Darling—letters, Dozo.

Your Ray

K . L

Tuesday night

25 October 1966

Darling Sweet,

I just got your third letter today, the one written last Tuesday when you

said you hadn’t gotten any letters yet, and I really groaned because I know

how much your letters have meant to me these first long weeks and I

know what a long wait even two weeks can be. But I feel sure you have

finally started getting them and they will snow you for a little while, then

we will practically be talking in our letters when they catch up with you.

. . .

Well, it is the day after Robin’s birthday and it was a huge success all

around. I ended the day looking at her cards and found yours saying, “I

wish I could be there, Robbie” and I really felt you were, except for the

movie camera. I chickened out and couldn’t remember if you had indoor

or outdoor film, so I didn’t take a movie. . . .

Then your letter came today saying give Robin a kiss first and it was

Piastres are a monetary subunit of the pound. In 1966, the foreign currency exchange

rate for the Vietnamese piastre was 72.77 piastres to $1. MPC refers to military payment

certificates. The military was paid in MPCs for buying things at the post exchange.

October 1966

———

very appropriate coming as it did so near her birthday. They are all very

interested in your letters and Kirk got worried that you didn’t have his

little spade to dig your bunker. I assured him you had a spade there. And

I do hope you dug a good deep one! We both got a bit weepy, and he said

he didn’t like to think of your being gone and that was why he didn’t want

to see you off at the airport. I said I knew that was why. Karen just says

don’t get the sniffles, Mom, and I assure her I don’t have them. Much.

Kirk ran to get his flare gun after reading about the flares you were

seeing and said his was still a live one. Hmm?

. . .

Tomorrow is the commissary and the Coleman’s for dinner.

I seem

to not get enough sleep on the nights I write you because I always listen to

the news in the middle of the letter. But it sounds encouraging tonight.

Something about a troop pullout in six months if the Communists do

too. Now, I guess we wait for their reaction. It is too much to believe this

early.

I was so glad to hear Clyde Simon is there. Give him my love and

tell him I am thinking of Ruby and her little ones. They have four or five

now, I think.

And your “home” away from home sounds like it is getting a bit better

with the planking and trees. I’m so curious to hear if the screening helps.

Every night that I watch TV, I think of how we used to watch it to-

gether and wonder what it would be like when you would be over there

where the news was being made. Now you are there, but I’m still here

sitting on the couch! I keep thinking I ought to leap up and go over there

with you. I keep thinking if only I were a nurse or something useful. I

guess I just wish I could share your hardships. At least we’d be together.

But as you say, that’s the “iffy” side of life.

P.S. My outfit for bed consists of a sweater, pants, P.J. bottoms, a

blanket, and a quilt and none of it keeps me warm like you do. But the

thought of you puts me to sleep, so on that nice warm thought, I’ll go to

bed.

Sharon and Bill Coleman were family friends. Sharon was a bridesmaid in Gig’s wed-

ding.

Lyndon B. Johnson, “Manila Summit Conference Documents,” American Presidency

Project, accessed 23 February 2023.

Chapter One

———

XXXs and a little bit more,

Gig

K . L

Thursday night

27 October 1966

Hi Darling,

. . . Every night it’s something. Tuesday someone crashed out off the

runway and Wednesday (last night) I had to wash clothes and move to an-

other hut. Tonight, right after I got my clothes washed and hung out, all

the electricity is out—generator blew up—I’m writing next to a cumshawed

Coleman lantern now.

Finally got in the air yesterday and today! I don’t think I’ve ever worn

so damn many things around my neck and hung things all over the place

with so much gear—weighs about 60 pounds! And today it was 92 degrees,

so I was sweating freely to say the least. It’s okay except when you’re pull-

ing a lot of Gs and then you remember it’s there.

Today, I was making an armed reconnaissance hop down near Cam

Ranh Bay where President Johnson and all of the big wheels were, then

inland in the mountains, back up near Laos (I think), and then back

here.

My first impressions were: “This is too beautiful a country to have

a war.” Beautiful coastlines, islands, and beaches; rich rice fields; striking

mountains where the trees are as advertised at over 100 feet tall, green,

lush, and sometimes covered with a lower secondary alive like canopy.

The rivers are full and fast and every hill has thousands of waterfalls. And

you can go for miles without seeing anything man-made. I won’t go into

the rules of engaging targets and what you can and can’t do, but I’d say

The term cumshaw refers to something that was obtained by irregular or unofficial means,

such as bribery, debts, cutting corners, etc. British Navy personnel likely first picked up

the word in Chinese ports, during the First Opium War of 1839, which means “grateful

thanks” in the dialect of Xiamen, a port in southeast China.

Depending on the job and aircraft of the personnel, a pilot would like wear standard

issue boots, flight suit or uniform, belt, protective vest, flight helmet, various emergency

gear, and communications headset or radio. Gs refer to G-force or gravity.

Johnson, “Manila Summit Conference Documents.”

October 1966

———

there’s no doubt about one thing: they sure are careful.

Besides, unless

you got hit or just happened to see some tracers, you’ll never know wheth-

er you had even been shot at to start with. I wish all the Viet Cong would

all wear orange hats or something, then you could be a lot more effective.

I think I have another hop tomorrow, but you never know because

the schedule isn’t out until after midnight.

Yesterday, we flew out west

into the mountains, then up north, back to the coast over Phu Bai (Hue),

back over Da Nang, and on down here to Chu Lai. So, I’ll get a good

For more on the rules of engagement during the period, see Jack Shulimson, U.S. Ma-

rines in Vietnam: An Expanding War, 1966 (Washington, DC: History and Museums Divi-

sion, Headquarters Marine Corps, 1982); and Maj Ricky J. Drake, “The Rules of Defeat:

The Impact of Aerial Rules of Engagements on USAF Operations in North Vietnam,

1965–1968” (thesis, School of Advanced Airpower Studies, Air University, 1992).

The term hop refers to a combat flight. See Edward Fraser and John Gibbons, Soldier and

Sailor Words and Phrases (New York: E. P. Dutton, 1925).

Figure 16. Maj Ray Stice (kneeling, right front row) at the Marine Aircraft

Group 13 recovery unit

Source: Stice family collection.

Chapter One

———

view of this part of the country anyway. I just can’t get over how pretty it

is from the air, and how primitive and dirty it is from the ground—really

a perplexing place.

. . .

Don’t worry about my eating. I can get some soup and sandwiches

at the mess hall after flying if I miss a meal. You forgot that they work

for me? My real and embarrassing problem is getting too large of servings

from them going through the line. They serve you sort of cafeteria style.

. . .

You look on that map along the coastline until you see Chu Lai. It’s

about 80 kilometers below Da Nang and then mark it. The kids will help

you.

Tomorrow night—I wasn’t on the day schedule—I asked the operations

officer if I could go along on a night flare drop, so I better turn in and get

some sleep. My regular job hours don’t change.

Goodnight Sweetheart.

I miss you and I love you,

Ray

K . L

Saturday night

29 October 1966

Hello Husband Mia,

Would you believe I’ve just had a drink—a “with dinner” drink and an

“after dinner” drink? And in the midst of 17 people, 8 of whom were chil-

dren? Yup, you guessed it, I have just come home from Sharon and Bill’s

and my big Saturday evening.

. . .

First though, don’t you dare say I’m not writing you, because I know

I am and it isn’t my fault you are behind in getting them. I simply refuse

to fly them over to you personally. You would just stick me in front of the

world in your cold shower and I wouldn’t mind the audience, but I just

can’t hack those cold showers.

. . .

I got your sixth letter yesterday, telling about the rains stopping and

your popcorn, beer, TV evening with guns and flares going off. Not quite

like mine, heh? Still, I am so glad you are all being inventive and getting

October 1966

———

things like iceboxes, TV, and popcorn popped. Yes, I’ll send the popcorn,

brownies, etc., if you thank me for my last bundle, which surely has reached

you by now—the not needed Kool-Aid, air mattress, and screening!

Trude Shallene says the base there was named for General Victor H.

Krulak, and that is “Chu Lai” in Vietnamese. She says he came over and

had an air-conditioned place built for him when the Marines were still

lying wounded on the sand. . . . I really will bend Frank Shallene’s ears

back when he comes down here next time to find out more about Chu

Lai.

He sent some dolls from Thailand, which she says were very good.

. . .

Wrote Milly. And all in all, I am being a good girl. One who should

have more imagination however. Though, I think sometimes imagination

takes money.

. . .

Texas lost a football game again today in the last few minutes with the

other side kicking a field goal from the 51-yard line. And they had been

winning up until then.

Funny that the letters take longer to get from “my side” to “your

side” than vice versa. There’s a full moon here tonight. Do you see it on

your side? If so, there’s a kiss on it for you. Marked R. B. Stice 062183

USMC (NOT TRANSFERABLE?). SPECIAL DELIVERY VIA MOON

SATELLITE.

Goodnight or good morning, whichever it is for you, Sweetiepie. Al-

ways hate to close a letter, but I’m sure you have work to do. Me, I just

think I do!

XXXs,

Gig

P.S. This letter is in answer to yours written on 24 October, mailed on

Though this cannot be substantiated, several publications, including the Marine Corps’

official history, reference Krulak and Chu Lai. See Jack Shulimson and Maj Charles M.

Johnson, USMC, U.S. Marines in Vietnam: The Landing and the Buildup, 1965 (Washington,

DC: History and Museums Division, Headquarters Marine Corps, 1978); Otto J. Lehrack,

No Shining Armor: The Marines at War in Vietnam an Oral History (Lawrence: University Press

of Kansas, 1992); and Frank A. Blazich Jr., “Surmounting the Sands of Chu Lai: MCB 10

and the Marine Expeditionary Airfield of 1965,” Seabee Museum, 4 May 2022.

“SMU vs Texas (Oct 29, 1966),” Stats.Texassports, accessed 23 February 2023. The final

score was Southern Methodist University 13, University of Texas 12.

Chapter One

———

the morning of 25 October, so that only makes us five days off. Do you

suppose we’ll ever get on the same frequency? Over.

K . L

Friday morning at 0900

28 October 1966

Good morning Darling,

For once, I am wide awake while writing you. And feeling great because I

folded up at 2200 last night, too tired even to hear the news. The reason

was because I went to see the Blue Max with Uncle Sam, Mom, and Liz

Wednesday night, came home to read another two hours, and had a busy

day that day going to the commissary. . . .

Of course, Wednesday was a red-letter day mostly because two letters

came from you with all that exciting news about your new job. I was really

hoping you would get the job, but afraid to say so in case you didn’t. But

it sounds terrific. Overwhelming, I’ll admit, but terribly challenging and

a wonderful way to keep so busy that the year will fly by.

I was so glad to hear my letters were beginning to get there and that

you had gotten some things from Japan to make the place bearable. I

looked at a box of Cold Power [laundry detergent] here to send you but it

was so big that it would take a box of its own to mail it. So, I was glad to

hear you could get it there. Gee, that’s a shame they don’t have a laundry

there, maybe you’d better build that instead of a library! The kids got a big

kick out of all the things you are going to “build.”

I read your letters to everyone at least three or four times and so I

really memorize each one.

. . .

The Blue Max was as terrific as you said it would be and a really good

story too. . . .

I got a sticker at Bergstrom [Air Force Base]—no sweat—and they were

very nice to me, especially when they heard where you were.

. . .

Of course, I was sorry to hear about the torn-up aircraft and the ac-

cident with the men on the runway, but still it was not as bad as the fire

The Blue Max, directed by John Guillermin, starring George Peppard (Los Angeles, CA:

20th Century Studios, 1966).

October 1966

———

on the USS Oriskany (CVA 34). That was really so terrible it’s still hard

to believe.

I can hardly picture the rain when it is definitely Indian summer here.

Wonder how long it lasts and how one gets dry. The whole picture sounds

pretty foreign! (That’s called an understatement.) I’m a bit rattled as the

little girls have now found me in the kitchen.

Glad to hear you have the dogs over there to find the Viet Cong and

that they really work. That must help a lot.

. . .

It is a bit weird not to have an “escort” to things. I noticed it particu-

larly at the movies when I bought a Coke and thought they were 10 cents

and they were 25 cents. Haven’t paid for myself in some time! And I felt

sort of self-conscious in a crowd of men, like I wanted to find you and

couldn’t.

. . .

I seem to have to explain a lot to Mom that I am okay, our marriage

is okay, the kids are okay, and so forth. . . . She may still be recuperating

from her accident, but she is cross, weepy, and all sort of run down from

the marriage. I am rough on her at times, but I think once she relaxes, she

will be okay. She is just not strong enough to discipline the kids without

upsetting herself, and I told her she’d better let me handle them, but she

forgets and tries to do it anyway. Don may be able to help her a bit once

he gets out of Oliver!.

He has many irons in the fire and seems terribly

happy for the first time in ages.

Guess that’s about all for the moment, “Herr Major: It sounds like we

both have our jobs cut out for us.

. . .

I love you, Angel,

Gig

K . L

On 26 October 1966, a flare was accidentally fired, setting off the contents of a magazine

locker while the USS Oriskany lay off the Vietnamese coast. The resulting fire killed 44

men. “Blast Rips Oriskany; 43, Killed, 16 Injured,” Evening Tribune (San Diego, CA), 26

October 1966.

Oliver! was a Broadway-style adaptation of Charles Dickens’ Oliver Twist. It first pre-

miered in London in 1960 and was brought to the United States as early as 1963.

Chapter One

———

Saturday noon

29 October 1966

Chu Lai

Why Not,

And how are you sweet things today? I don’t know why I feel so good, I’ve

got a roaring headache and a stiff back from those damned Martin-Baker

seats in the F-9.

Two Bufferin and six salt tablets should do the trick.

The night flare drop fell through—no one wanted any apparently. Today

we went down south and out west again trying to watch for the Viet Cong

and dodge the mountain tops in the clouds. Had to pop up on top three

times. I’ll be damned if I’m going to run into one of those things. Saw

a couple of Air Force planes giving someone hell, but they didn’t need

any help apparently. We’re really quite limited with the F-9 and lucky to

have them in the first place for people like me aren’t in something else,

but still no bombs or rockets yet just the guns for the time being. Today

is a pretty day if you’re just looking or sitting still. I’m not sure if you’ve

ever lived on the beach—well, that’s what we’re doing here, living in a

beach shack. Remember how sticky and sandy everything gets from the

salt spray? That’s us.

. . .

This noon we had to wait and keep going around while a big jet

transport used the runway that had the CNO [Chief of Naval Opera-

tions] aboard, pretty big wheel you know—next to Mac himself.

Tomor-

row General Krulak is coming down—he’ll be all over the damn place I’ve

heard—so standby for the “Brute,” he’s commanding general of all the

Fleet Marine Force, Pacific.

Would you believe 4 Bufferin, 12 salt tablets, and a visit to the state-

The Martin-Baker was a British-made ejection seat that saw its share of success and

failure. Some pilots offered several slogans regarding its performance, such as “Meet Your

Maker in a Martin-Baker” and “Martin-Baker Back Breaker.” Issues persist to this day. See

Diana Stancy Correll, “Navy and Marine Corps Replacing Faulty Aircraft Ejection Seat

Components,” Navy Times, 27 July 2022.

Given the period and prior reference, “Mac” is likely Robert S. McNamara, secretary of

defense from 1961 to 1968. Robert S. McNamara, “Remarks at a Press Briefing Following

the Return from Vietnam of Secretary McNamara and Under Secretary Katzenbach” (re-

marks, Washington, DC, 14 October 1966).

LtGen Victor H. Krulak, Oral History Transcript, Benis M. Frank interviewer, Histori-

cal Division, Headquarters Marine Corps, Washington, DC, 1973.

October 1966

———

ly 4-hole [latrine]? First headache I’ve had since I left you—hmm, I won-

der—I’ll stop writing for a couple of days and see if that helps! Got to get

to work, because it’s a long walk. If we had blocks, it would be about seven

or eight blocks, but here in the sand it’s like walking uphill all the time.

I love you sweetheart. I’m sorry, it’s me that’s sweating. Sweet baby—

Yours,

Ray

K . L

Sunday night

30 October 1966

Hello again sweetie,

We all went to the Coleman’s ranch today—all except Kathy that is—and

saw the “shack” that Bill is insulating with the help of several men. I really

thought about how much you would have enjoyed being with us today.

Guess the “shack” reminded me of your “shack” over there!

. . .

Just had to write you about the ranch afternoon, because it was the

kind we would have loved together and at least you can picture it a little

this way.

Oh yes, I saw the Marine silent drill team on Ed Sullivan tonight.

good! It’s almost Marine Corps Birthday time! An early happy birthday

to you, Sir!

From your “Lady” friend,

Gig

(Robin asked me what I was smiling about. Guess I like Marines.)

“U.S. Marine Corps Silent Drill Platoon,” Ed Sullivan Show, season 19, episode 8, CBS,

aired 31 October 1966.

Marines have not always celebrated their founding on 10 November. Formal commem-

oration of the birthday of the Marine Corps began on 10 November 1921, because it was

on that day the Second Continental Congress resolved in 1775 to raise two battalions

of Continental Marines. “Marine Corps Birthday Celebration,” Brief Histories, Marine

Corps History Division, accessed 24 February 2023.

———

NOVEMBER 1966

Tuesday night

1 November 1966

Hi Sweet,

I guess you didn’t call Mom. She sent me my fourth mosquito net and a

whole slew of spare light bulbs! So, I’m in pretty good shape for bugs for

the time being. Only two big items needed: an extremely noisy wind-up

alarm clock and a movie camera. Oh, by the way, your movie camera has

outdoor film in it. Go ahead and use it. It’s half-finished now and could

be sent out (I think). Let’s not have another year of no home movies just

because I’m not there—read the book and DO IT!

Robin’s birthday sounded great . . . .

Don’t you believe any garbage about troop pullout. This one is going

to take a while.

Ask Don if he thinks a Vietnam War song would sell. A couple of

my shack mates play git fiddles and have some real soft nice songs just

for relaxation.

The main thing that is missing is a primary identification

theme like the Green Berets versus Army. We’ll make up a tape or some-

The term git has multiple meanings, though most references seem to come from British

slang for the word get, which was shortened from beget. Depending on the context, git

could refer to something silly or done in a rough manner, such as playing guitar.

November 1966

———

thing one of these days. They don’t think they have anything saleable.

Who knows.

. . .

No TV or popcorn over here and I’ll be damned if I’ll go over to the

old hut (actually it was only on about an hour long and very poor).

I can think of better things to share than hardships! . . .

The moon just popped up fat and orange. I still think the Viet Cong

will be there sometime. Anyway, if Charlie was going to get restless, I’d

pick the Marine Corps Birthday night (10 November). Have to keep the

guard sober for that one.

Enclosed please find one check—yours and the kids’ travel plus our

dislocation allowance. That ought to pay rent for a couple of months!

Well, it’s November—bring on the monsoons . . . we’ve already had a

few good practice sessions with 15 inches of rain one day. That one is still

standing around.

No more Kool-Aid, Dozo. Work on a little self-packaging and I might

be interested.

I’m tired—3 shootings, 10 marijuana cigarettes, one 16-year-old Viet-

namese girl hit by a truck, 2 AWOLs, 6 lost rifles, 2 found pistols, 1 nut,

1 queer, 5 TAD, 10,000 messages, 13 letters, 2 awards, 1 bust [arrest], 476

stupid hard-working Marines, and the colonels go flying all day long.

turn tomorrow!

Good night, Honey.

I do love YOU,

Ray

K . L

See Public Law 89-501, Monthly Basic Pay and Allowances (1 July 1966). Allowances

were based on rank, time in service, married/dependents, and additional allowances for

aviation and submarine duty. Stice would have had almost 20 years in service at this point.

As an O-4 aviator with 20 years of service plus more than two dependents, Stice’s monthly

allowance would have been approximately $1,300 in 1966 dollars.

AWOL refers to absent without leave; TAD refers to temporary active duty or orders to

displace to another location. Until the early 1940s, there were no laws that barred homo-

sexuals from serving in the military. For more on the topic during the Vietnam War era,

see Steve Estes, “Vietnam,” in Ask & Tell: Gay and Lesbian Veterans Speak Out (Chapel Hill:

North Carolina Scholarship Online, 2007), https://doi.org/10.5149/9780807889855

_estes.7.

Chapter Two

———

Tuesday night

1 November 1966

Hello darling,

Well, you certainly are having a time getting settled, aren’t you? But I was

glad you didn’t get stuck with Major Joseph B. Wuertz, so maybe it was

for the best that you had to move. Hope by now the dust has settled a bit,

though.

It was just grand to get your letter about the scenery, which sounds

magnificent from the air. I really felt like I’d had a bird’s-eye view right out

of the cockpit. Of course, I was thrilled and scared again to hear you were

“up,” but you sounded pleased to be back in the saddle and back to your

usual gripes about the Gs, the gear, and the heat, which I hadn’t heard in

a while. Ah Beeville! Ah Chu Lai!

I got a tremendous bang out of the newspaper. It was great to read

the fresh poop, and I pulled out my map and looked up several provinc-

es on it. Which province are you in? Every day I am more and more glad

you aren’t near Saigon or Da Nang or the [demilitarized zone] DMZ.

It tickles me that the Marine Corps calls Chu Lai permanent, like El

Toro and Cherry Point.

Permanent until activated, deactivated, or re-

activated.

In other words, lots of activity going on there all the time. Next thing,

if they aren’t careful, they’ll have those really permanent dependents

around!

. . .

Kirk seems to have the most moments of being inconsolable and

getting angry with me over nothing. . . . Liz sort of hangs so loose, they

figure I’m loose too. So I had a “chat” and tried to explain why he has to

be extra good when she’s around. . . . I got some satisfaction when she

insisted you probably wouldn’t fly much, and I showed her the picture

of your [commanding officer] CO and the other lieutenant colonels

in their flight suits. . . . They find it hard to believe you really are a jet

pilot, I think.

Oh Angel, I’d better stop. You can’t spend all day reading my letter.

I’m glad you are able to get good service and food and that they love you

“Chronology of Key Marine Corp Events in the Vietnam War, 1962–1975,” Marine

Corps History Division, accessed 28 February 2023.

November 1966

———

(Ha ha!). But that 0530 wake up sounds wicked and you must get to bed

very early to keep healthy. I need a healthy husband who writes me lovely

letters, when he has the time only. Did you know the Japanese don’t write

their wives at all? I do love you, you know.

Gig

K . L

2200 Thursday night

3 November 1966

Chu Lai

All day I’ve been saying . . . I will write Gig . . . I will write Gig . . . Think

Gig . . .

Hi Honey,

This is going to be short. It’s late and I’m tired again and need a shower

badly.

I was just finishing up an armed road reconnaissance this noon and

headed back here and someone comes up on guard saying Chu Lai was

closed for the next 45 minutes, so I headed up to Da Nang. When we shut

down, there was a big hydraulic leak in the nose gear, so these idiots tried

to fix it. To make another long story short, it took damn near nine hours

just to get it out of the barn, refueled, and lift off again! Seems the group

[executive officer] XO had a 37 mm [round] come up through his nose up

north and our Chu Lai crash gear took hours to get his aircraft off the

runway. Heard a few rumbles about “low pull-outs,” “multiple runs,” etc.

I guess that’s the way to waste $3 million.

This red warning tag came from a bomb that Don Lundberg dropped

up north this evening.

If [General Victor H.] Krulak built anything air conditioned around

here, I’ll eat it.

This afternoon, someone had two entire Viet Cong companies caught

in the open and no air [support] at the time. Some days, you should stay

in bed.

For more on aviation issues during the period, see Cdr Peter B. Mersky, USNR (Ret),

“The Marine Aviation Experience in Vietnam,” Naval History Magazine 30, no. 3 (June

2016).

Chapter Two

———

It’s 2300 already. Goodnight, Darling, I’m filthy dirty, but I love you

in spite of it.

Ray

K . L

Thursday night

3 November 1966

Hello Sweet Pie,

. . .

You are being so good it hurts! Two letters in two days—and under such

conditions too! I was sure surprised to go to Mom’s this afternoon and

there was your letter written at Da Nang, practically while airborne. When

you write A/C, Mom reads it as Air Corps and “noon chow” was com-

pletely misread. I have to decipher for her! . . .

I’ve just come home from seeing Doctor Zhivago at the movies and I

am feeling good despite the hour—midnight! (Don babysat). It was a beau-

tiful poetic picture with breathtaking views of Russia and, oh, it makes me

mad you can’t see these with me.

All these months of Elvis Presley and

now I finally am seeing truly great movies—alone.

. . .

Your statement that your pay might be $884 makes me think of the

joke I heard on TV—oversexed, overpaid, and over there—surely that was

a mistake!

. . .

I wander around trying to find goodies to send you and the clerks

wonder what I’m looking for! . . .

Wakarimasu [English: I understand] living by the sea, but what do

I send a salty Marine? Salty popcorn, that’s what. They say it gets cold

over there, but you haven’t mentioned that yet. Let me know if you want

gloves, hand warmers, or something. I keep looking for a dehumidifier. Is

there such an animal?

. . .

Doctor Zhivago, directed by David Lean, starring Julie Christie and Omar Sharif (Beverly

Hills, CA: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, 1965).

This reference was also made in Geoffrey C. Ward and Ken Burns, The Vietnam War: An

Intimate History (New York: Alfred A Knopf, 2017), 203.

November 1966

———

I’m getting in the mood to take pictures. I think I’ll attempt one this

weekend. I’m scared stiff of cameras for some reason.

Don says he’ll work up a tape too, and that will be fun to do. I’m sort

of getting bleary eyed now, so I best go to sleep.

I love you,

Gig

K . L

Saturday night yet

5 November 1966

Hi Honey,

How is it—I mean how are you—there? You know these Saturday nights.

I’m sure it’s Saturday because I had to look at a calendar, although I have

developed a general principle of “to hell with what day it is.” Only the

numbers on the correspondence seem to mean anything!

Your last weekend sounded great! Of course, I would have really en-

joyed that. I’ll bet it’s real pretty there now. You know, even here you can

surmise it must be winter somewhere. Last night, when we finished a

flare drop mission (at bleary midnight), the wind was too chilly to take a

shower, so I’m doubly stinky tonight after another hop.

That’s why I couldn’t write you last night. I wasn’t scheduled for our

Grumman F-9 Cougar hop during the day, so I begged [my way] on to

the Douglas C-117 Skytrain (old C-47 transport, a.k.a. Gooney Bird) for

a night flare drop and some possible night time with Major Louis F. Gag-

non as copilot. We still need our night and instrument time even here. So,

we took off and dropped flares around Da Nang and Monkey [Son Tra]

Mountain for five hours. I helped—hell, worked!—in the back for 4 hours,

and finally got to log 1.1 hours as copilot. Sort of a rough way to get night

[flying] time after a normal 12-hour day to start with. Frankly, I’d like to

fly once a day . . . although this [Marine Air Base Squadron] MABS job is

really a full-time affair and then some. For instance, we don’t have a food

Flare drops were used for a variety of reasons, particularly to distract enemy troops or to

highlight a target. See Jack Shulimson, U.S. Marines in Vietnam: An Expanding War, 1966

(Washington, DC: History and Museums Division, Headquarters Marine Corps, 1982),

166; and Maj Gary L. Telfer, USMC, LtCol Lane Rogers, USMC, and V. Keith Fleming

Jr., U.S. Marines in Vietnam: Fighting the North Vietnamese, 1967 (Washington, DC: History

and Museums Division, Headquarters Marine Corps, 1984), 122.

Chapter Two

———

services officer—no sergeant major—a lot of big holes like that and you

end up with big sections that aren’t being honchoed by an officer.

That’s

another reason why I need my own wheels; we are spread out all over the

base and then some. I thought I had a jeep today, but it fell through. . . .

. . .

Thank you for the happy birthday—on the 11th. Why don’t you tiptoe

out to the icebox, open up a cool Bud, and have a silent toast with me?

You’ll have to do it right at 1800 in the evening of the 11th for our 2000

on the 10th here—got it?

Almost got a secondary [mission] today, but I just didn’t have enough

fuel to carry it out after we finished the required hop. Only been three

shooting secondary missions for the F-9s so far here.

Yes, I do love you,

Ray

K . L

Saturday night

5 November 1966

Hello Darling,

I’ve had two really fun days with the kids. They had a day off yesterday

(teachers conference) and I took them shopping. . . .

Tonight, we all had baths and they put on their new clothes to go to

Mom’s for dinner. They looked very nice with clean everything. The girls

are really getting very pretty but they don’t know it yet. . . . Don played

a recording of his “Sound Spectacular,” and I do hope he has some luck

with it. . . . Kirk and Kathy really enjoy his company and Kathy shows she

misses you. She still thinks you are up in the airplane and points to the

sky! We’ve really seen very little of him since you left, but Kirk admired

a wild yellow shirt he was wearing—“Gah, I really like that shirt, Uncle

Don.” He went off for the last shows of Oliver! and the kids settled down

to a great game of Parcheesi with Mom. If you’d been here, we could

practically have “snuck” off to the movies. As it was, I just read Time mag-

azine—all about the booby traps they are using over there. Just a bit shakes

The military occupational specialty (MOS) for a food service officer is 3302. Food service

officers plan, organize, manage, analyze, supervise, budget, execute, and coordinate the

food service and subsistence programs on base and during deployments.

November 1966

———

me up. Don’t go to Saigon or Da Nang. In fact, just stay in your airplane

or shack!

You were right about the pay raises. But you knew about it before I

read it in the paper here tonight. How come you knew it first?

I mailed the popcorn and loose beer openers, so it was a noisy pack-

age—15 pounds! The postman asked what it was. Also alarm clock and

tidbits but no brownies. Hope it gets to you before too long.

. . .

Must close before this letter gets too fat. I really do miss you, Honey,

but know you are with the good guys—the dodge boys! (Dodge these traps,

that is.) It’s Marine Corps Birthday time, and I think I’ll go next year and

have a ball. Right now, I’m not presentable in my old blue robe with all

the buttons popped.

Tomorrow is ranch time again. You’ve been gone four weeks today. I

can hardly believe it, as it seems much longer!

I love you—“That’s affirm!”

Gig

P.S. I have gotten a letter from you every day and feel we’re finally begin-

ning to communicate on the same frequency . . . it makes the load lighter

to hear a masculine remark in every letter.

K . L

Monday night

7 November 1966

Hi Honey,

You asked which province are we in—the very bottom of Quang Tin and

only about 8 kilometers north of Quang Ngai.

. . .

Better hurry up with that clock—extra loud, Dozo—throw in a dozen

cans of popcorn and a couple of large tubes of Crest toothpaste. If I had

my druthers, I’d like a 12-month subscription of Playboy and some lighter

flints (Ronson’s are best) and a couple of jars of OFF bug spray. Now,

how’s that for a shopping list.

Your Halloween sounded great—much more interesting than mine.

Possible reference to “South Viet Nam: The Tunnel Rats,” Time Magazine, 4 March

1966.

Chapter Two

———

Last night, I borrowed the colonel’s jeep and went to the (my first) movie

over at Marine Aircraft Group 12 (MAG-12) on the beach—Tony Randall

and Anita Ekberg in the ABC murders or something.

Had one hell of a

time laughing . . . maybe I should go more often.

. . .

You tell Liz that I flew 10 hops the first 12 days here (1 day in 4 differ-

ent types of planes). Too much actually—the colonel had a few comments

along those lines today.

Got another one of those weirdos for a group commanding officer.

Sort of lies to himself, orders others to cover, and won’t hear any side to

any story—period. He’s got his staff jumping like grasshoppers in a skillet

and, of course, it all rattles downhill quite a ways. I never could under-

stand how these kooks can fool people so successfully for such a long

period of time then they end up in a very responsible position where they

do more harm than good!

. . .

So far, I’ve been really lucky about skin problems, rashes, malaria, etc.

We take all our pills and try to wash every day.

The only thing I have are

some tiny white bumps on my fingers that I’ve always had before. I think

it comes from JP-4 (jet fuel) more than anything.

It’s 2100 and I’m going to take full advantage of it and go to bed like

now.

Goodnight, Darling,

Ray

P.S. Lou Gagnon just snapped a Polaroid shot. I was just folding up this

letter when he said, “Hey, Ray,” and I turned and all I saw was a flash.

On the left is my G-suit, torso harness, and my homemade table and

Stice is referring to the Agatha Christie movie, The Alphabet Murders, directed by Frank

Tashlin (Beverley Hills, CA: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, 1965).

For more on general health concerns and medical issues during the period, see Jan K.

Herman, Navy Medicine in Vietnam: Passage to Freedom to the Fall of Saigon (Washington,

DC: Naval History and Heritage Command, Department of the Navy, 2010).

JP-4 (jet propellant-4) is used by the U.S. military for aircraft fuel. JP-4 is a colorless to

straw-colored liquid that smells like gasoline and/or kerosene. For more on the use and

health impacts, see “Public Health Statement for Jet Fuels JP-4 and JP-7,” Agency for Toxic

Substances and Disease Registry, Centers for Disease Control, June 1995.

November 1966

———

bench (covered with my blanket).

You can see my red lamp and a can

of peanuts I finagled in Da Nang one night. My ashtray is on the top,

behind that is my voltage control clock and radio. All your letters sit next

to the lamp and my knee board and maps are just in front of the canteen.

Behind me is a yellow towel and my Sears raincoat on top of my flight

suit and next to that is that old locker one of my buddies scrounged up

for me somewhere.

You can even see the imprint of my shoulder holster under my left

arm and where the strap goes across up over the right shoulder.

So, caught in the act of writing my wife—I’m guilty—I’m guilty! That’s

my “home” away from home. Oh well, it still beats a fox hole in the jungle,

and there sure are a lot of them.

I love you,

Ray

K . L

1500

9 November 1966

Hello Darling,

Well, I’m feeling much better about the world this afternoon than I was

last night. I tore up a letter to you this morning that was all about worries

about school problems, and it’s a good thing I did as they all brought nice

report cards home today. Ungraded ones fortunately with Ss for satisfac-

tory and a few “Needs to Improve,” which states the case mildly. They’ve

gone off now to get a Wednesday afternoon “icee” as a treat, and Kirk has

a date. Both sisters are chaperoning him though!

I feel extra good as I’ve gotten a letter from you every day this week,

and I really feel we’re finally beginning to communicate on the same fre-

quency! In fact, I feel almost spoiled, but that’s just what I needed. It sure

makes the load lighter to hear a masculine remark in every letter and,

The G-suit refers to the flight suit worn by aviators and astronauts who are subjected to

high levels of acceleration (gravity) force.

Chapter Two

———

heavens to Betsy, you are masculine!

Raunchy is the word! If I could find

you, I’d . . . well, I’d try anyway, to trounce on you with all 105 pounds

of me!

Had the teacher conference yesterday, which unnerved me, and then

voted after that. Much ado as the Republicans did very well in all respects

considering.

. . .

Kirk was impressed with the bomb tag. You seem to be getting things

done and having a better feel for the whole picture now, so you must be

getting adjusted now. You are flying, settled, and working—three things

that always make you feel better if not cleaner! And the dirt just proves

you’ve been working. Sounds like your morale is much better now. You

did have a few bad days there, or at least frustrating ones.

I typed four of your last few letters for Milly and they took up four of

these pages. Whew! But I’m sure she’ll be pleased to get the word. I am

pretty good decoder but get a little frustrated when you do {} at the end

of a page, usually some technical word too! Like why is a “secondary mis-

sion” after “we finished the perimeter.” Glug, glug.

Kids are home, so here are their dictated letters to you . . .

Kirk says . . .

Dear Daddy, Love Kirk,

On 9 November 1966, I got my report card! . . . Dear Daddy, we went out

to the ranch. Daddy, we went deer hunting. Daddy, Miss Mink has been

saying “Kirk, you are reading a little more better these days and she likes

me.” Daddy, I want to tell you about this little girl that is in my class. She

has a broken arm on both arms. . . . her dog scared her and she climbed a

fence and her dog jumped up and she fell down. Daddy, Kathy has been

good. She hasn’t been crying when Mother leaves her at Gramma’s house.

She has been the goodest girl I have ever seen. Love, Kirk. And Dear

Daddy, Robin has been saying “poo poo,” “meanie,” “stupid,” and “I hate

The primarily American expression “heavens to Betsy” has been seen in print as early

as 1857, but the origin of the term for shock or surprise cannot be determined or who

Betsy was, though some posit that it might point to either Betsy Ross or Davy Crockett’s

rifle, Old Betsy.

She is referencing the 8 November 1966 midterm congressional elections that took place

midway through Lyndon B. Johnson’s second term as president.

November 1966

———

you” to me, and she is saying “Kirk, you are stupid” and now I have been

mad at her and I have really been really mad. Daddy, I do not like Robin

because she is awful mean. I hope she gets a spanking from you! I like the

little red pin that you gave me. . . . Daddy, I wish you were here because I

would like you to be here. I really want to shoot my BB gun.

Love, Kirk

Robin says . . .

Dear Daddy,

Kirk has been saying “stupid” and all that junk first, not me! So, I have to

say it back to him. So, I haven’t been doing that stupid stuff. I have been

trying to help Mama. Brenda, Tommy, and I have the best report cards

in our class. My teacher said who had the best cards—who got As in con-

duct—and we were the only ones who got straight As and I was real thrilled

with that. I wish you were here.

Robin (I’m not as mean as Kirk is.)

P.S. Gig here. . . . You have a date—1800—on the 11th. Cheers! And will

you dance with me this time? Don’t forget to toast the president first. I’m

sure he would be “thrilled” if you did!

K . L

2200

9 November 1966

Hi Honey,

Well, tomorrow is the you know what day. I think we’ve been able to

scrounge enough beer for the troops, so they can get a little smashed. The

moon is gone and all the bets are on Charlie raising hell. The group guard

gets theirs on 11 November.

Well, I guess Ronald Reagan and Charles Percy won according to the

radio.

Robbin, I want to thank you for that real nice letter! . . . I’m saving

During the midterm elections for November 1966, Governor Ronald W. Reagan (R-CA)

won, as did Charles H. Percy (R-IL). See “1966 Midterm Elections,” United Press Interna-

tional, November 1966.

Chapter Two

———

all the letters, so if I don’t get one like today then I just read them all over

again!

Yesterday was quite a day—first an early morning shooting, then all

our fuel was contaminated, and last night one of our nuttier guards went

the rest of the way and tried to cut people up. . . .

My roomy says you better send us some cans of popping corn quick.

Our Japanese supply is all but gone. He’ll send a case (unpopped), so it

will last for a while.

Cold—for taking cold water showers at night—yes, it’s cold. I’d like to

see you try it! Ha! So would the kids! All the kids here at Chu Lai that is.

Gum—put it with the Kool-Aid, Dozo. I can’t chew gum. You’re forgetting

my position as executive officer—a little respect PLEASE.

I knew transport pilots were good for something. Over here, they’re

worth their weight in goodies. Lou Gagnon just arrived from Da Nang

with 12 cases of beer and 4 cases of Cokes, all for Hotel 1 (our hut).

. . .

My hops have slowed down a bit. I milked that “ham” bit to a bloody

end, so I have to think up something else new. Today was good—way up

next to the DMZ with Clyde Simon. That’s where all the real action is—a

little too much at one point—our own artillery was impacting right next to

where we were working. I thought, “Let’s get out of here!”

Speaking of getting, I’ve got to go to bed. I am flat tuckered out. Keep

up those wonderful letters. You’re doing just great.

I love you, Sweetsan,

Ray

K . L

Friday night

11 November 1966

Hello Darling!

I think I’m behind one letter as I still have clippings from yesterday’s pa-

per to send you. The news—or is it life?—seems to go too fast if you don’t

keep up. It’s really quite remarkable that I can get such really fresh news

In Japanese, the suffix “

san” is a term of respect. It can be used with both male and

female names and with either surnames or given names. It can also be attached to the

name of occupations and titles.

November 1966

———

of what is going on there in the newspaper. Really much better coverage

than TV. I’ll bet if I cut them out each night, it would be interesting for

you when you get back. I suppose it’s old news when I mail it to you, but

I keep thinking maybe it gives you the overall picture. Let me know if you

want me to send the war coverage stories or just other assorted ones.

many stories are sad ones though, and we both can do without those at

this time. I’m not the world’s bravest girl, you know! I just think I am, ha

ha. As a matter of actual fact, Ferdinand the bull and I had lots in com-

mon—except sex!

Had a little lecture with Robin and Kirk tonight that they must try

not to be mean to each other, even if I allow them to write you their

“sometimes” feelings. They understand and really get along quite well.

They are just so close in age that they keep bumping into each other’s

feelings. It’s kind of crowded being the two middle kids!

I’ve been missing you a lot. Is that news? Sure wish I were half as busy

as you are to keep my mind “off us,” but I really kind of like having time

to daydream about you because I like to think about you. How about that!

Went to a Kappa meeting yesterday and saw some of the other “ac-

tives”—the young college girls of today. They sure are pretty and, yup,

made me feel old! It’s lovely to come home to the kids who never think

I’m too old to be sat on, climbed on and enjoy my kisses, except the shred-

ded wheat ones, or I might add the early morning ones!

. . .

The stars are big and bright tonight. I really do think we saw the same

moon! Did you get my message? I still can’t believe Vietnam is as pretty as

you say it is from the air.

Best I close and let you get to one of your many jobs. How many there

are too! I sure hope you are getting enough sleep—that night flare drop to

Da Nang sounded very exciting and arduous after a long day at Chu Lai.

Given the timing, much of the news reported in the Austin-American Statesman would

have focused on the midterm elections, the war in Vietnam, and college football. Much

has been written about government attempts to filter the news and how the media re-

vealed the stark truth of the conflict and shifted public opinion about the war. Hearings be-

fore the Committee on Foreign Relations on News Policies in Vietnam, U.S. Senate, 89th Cong.,

2d Sess. (2 and 31 August 1966).

Ferdinand the Bull remains a children’s classic, as it focuses on a bull that would rather

smell flowers than fight in the ring. Munro Leaf, The Story of Ferdinand (New York: Viking

Books, 1936).

Chapter Two

———

Not the most tranquil thing to do before bed. Maybe dull letters will put

you to sleep. Though, knowing you, sleep is no problem—it’s just getting

to bed that’s the problem. Just write me one-page letters every other day

if that will help.

By the way, thanks for that smashing kiss. That’s my favorite kind you

know. And you ration them like hen’s teeth. I wonder why? (I’m in the

closet.)

XXXs,

Gig (No! Not Mrs. Gig)

K . L

Friday night

11 November 1966

Hi Sweetheart,

And how is yours today? Mine is dragging a little. I got to fly for three

days straight, and I’ll be grounded for five or six days. Lieutenant Colonel

Owen L. Owens (boss) is going to Okinawa tomorrow and get his shop-

ping done. I asked him, “What do you think about my going to Bangkok

for a couple of days on the 21st?” and he said forget it. When he comes

back, I’ll hit him up again for 10 December. It’s two hours later now. This

is going to be a short one unfortunately. Had to go out on the runway—all

our lights are screwed up and the mirrors are the same (raining too).

Lost a third hour trying to go on a night flare drop. They got the word

to launch and we all ran out in the rain, lit off, and got canceled (canked).

. . . I did have a good hop this morning way up north (two planes). Clyde

Simon and my roomy Berny [Major Bernard H. Thomas] in one and me

and the group executive officer in another. You’ll never believe what we

saw up there in the same plane yesterday—a pack (Viet Cong) train of

eight elephants!

(Must be “red” elephants.) And none of the damn guns

would fire! Oh man, what a laugh that caused. We all figured it was just as

well. What in the hell could you say to your kids? “Oh yeah, Daddy’s been

out elephant hunting with his jet” or “How mean could you get?” Besides,

what would they do, paint little elephants on the side of your cockpit? Too

L. P. Holliday and R. M. Gurfield, Viet Cong Logistics (Santa Monica, CA: Rand, pre-

pared for Office of the Assistant Secretary of Defense/International Security Affairs and

the Advanced Research Projects Agency, 1968).

November 1966

———

much. However, at that same spot, they lost two Air Force F-4s and a SAR

[search and rescue] helicopter this morning and hit a third helicopter.

They even put a sign up in the Liver Shack for Armed Reconnaissance

Flight Purpose Code: 1-T-2 Elephant Hunt, 1-S-2 Elephant Kill, 1-Z-2 El-

ephant Scare.

Got to get about 200 feet of nylon line. I read about one guy who

Flight purpose codes included three characters—numbers and characters. Depending on

the date, the first number referred to the type of operation; the alpha character referred to

the general purpose of the operation; and the third number referred to specific purpose

of the flight. 1-T-2 = training/targets of opportunity or armed reconnaissance; 1-S-2 =

training/targets assigned after takeoff; and 1-Z-2 = training/escort of vessels not in own

force. See OPNAV Instruction 3710.7U, NATOPS General Flight and Operating Instructions

(Washington, DC: Office of the Chief of Naval Operations, Department of the Navy, 1

March 2004), appendix D. Though these instructions date 2004, the concepts are likely

similar to operating instructions in Vietnam.

Figure 17. Maj Ray Stice poses on the wing of his aircraft, Chu Lai

Source: official U.S. Marine Corps photo.

Chapter Two

———

came down on the top of a 150-foot tree and broke his leg falling out of

his harness. Heard that another one punched out at nighttime, stayed in

a tree in his harness all night long, and the next morning when the sun

came up he realized his feet were only three feet from the ground! Ugh

. . . some days you should just stay in bed.

Last night, would you believe we had charcoal broiled steaks? Flown

from Lord knows where, an eight-piece band from Da Nang, real live

mixed drinks, and no Viet Cong! He really missed a good chance—rain-

ing—everyone in the mess hall (minus the guard) and no moon. Sorry

Charlie.

Got to get out in the cold rain and take a shower. I’m grumpy.

Tell Kirk to write me a letter and then Karen next time. Robbie’s was

really cute.

Kiss my sweet children. They are sweet children, aren’t they? Well, kiss

them anyway.

I love you,

Ray

K . L

Sunday night

13 November 1966

Hi Honey,

Another weekend over, and all is well. Stayed home Friday night, played

cards with Mom, Helen, Liz, and Sam Saturday night her at the house and

fixed them all drinks with that liquor you bought. . . .

Don was out at the ranch with Bill and the other men for a poker and

deer hunt. And guess what, he actually got a deer! Bill had him “fix it” or

whatever they say, and he got a big kick out of Don’s first hunt. Don gave

him the deer and is keeping the horns.

Sharon drove us out this afternoon—a car full of kids and food—to eat

the cabrito (English: goat) Bill’s dad cooked. Don and the men had gone,

but another couple was there with their two boys (nine kids in all), and I

According to World Bank Group data, the mean temperature in Vietnam for 1966 was

76.38 F. In November 1966, the minimum temperatures record was approximately 66 F,

with more than 6 inches of rain for the month. “Country: Vietnam,” Climate Change

Knowledge Portal, World Bank, accessed 3 March 2023.

November 1966

———

had Kathy along. What an afternoon! Kathy is not ranch ready yet, but in

between tears had a lovely time. (No nap, falling down, etc.) The father of

the boys went out and got a deer, while Bill went out the other direction,

so he came back and hung the deer up alone, with an audience of three

women plus nine kids!

. . .

Anyway, they like doing things with tons of people around, always

have and probably always will. I really like getting back to the peace of our

big old house, and the kids do too.

They said they were trying to help me with Kirk—get him to play with

boys etc.—and I said I knew they were and that I appreciated it. And he

really does get a big kick out of it all. They are all (relatives and friends)

trying to be helpful, and my tongue is hanging out as a consequence!

Glad another new week is here. Your letters seem to get here on Mon-

day, Tuesday, and Wednesday. So that’s a nice way to start a week. The

kids bicycle your letters up to the post office for me and love to do it. They

have found the shortcut to school, so they don’t mind walking it now! Oh

yes, I read the movie camera instructions—now for the nerve to use it. I

love you but not machines! They are more trouble than people?

Sweet XXXs,

Gig

K . L

2200 Saturday night

13 November 1966

Hi Honey,

I’m going to start now and finish tomorrow. The first day without the

colonel was really a bear. I managed to sidestep the group executive of-

ficer, get chewed out at 0700 by the S-3 (operations) and finally found a

sympathetic ear tonight in the S-4 (logistics), so now I know where some

of the troops lie. Spent fully 75 percent of the 15.5-hour day (all the water

pumps out for 6 hours) explaining why or how orally and on paper (most-

ly) 5 percent chewing out wayward gunnery sergeants, staff sergeants, cor-

porals, and privates. I stand up and make them look me in the eye when

I’m performing. Without a sergeant major to keep them in line, things

are going to pot. A master gunnery sergeant who runs our mess hall came

up and read my mind today. He asked if he could take over the duties of

Chapter Two

———

sergeant major. He was so worried about the way some of the people are

going to pot. Colonel here or not, I grabbed him quick. Someone that

concerned is hard to come by so I’ll see the group S-1 (personnel) about

it tomorrow.

You asked where are we working—I Corps, Baby—563 kilometers

north of Saigon roughly. We’ve got about 322 kilometers north and south

and from 161–241 kilometers across from the South China Sea to Laos all

the way to and including along the DMZ. There’s one hell of a big battle

on the Laos (west) side of the DMZ that’s been going on for months—

Operation Irving or Hastings—the names aren’t important as they change

them all the time for the benefit of the press corps but the fighting’s the

same.

Forget about me and Cambodia—the DMZ is where all the action

starts for us—although [Major Robert T.] Bob Roche got some today just

14.5 kilometers west of here.

Karen, I’m so proud of you I could bust! I think with the brains that

your mother and I donated to you that you are doing just great. Keep up

the wonderful work.

Kirk, you are forgiven. The fossils are very old, and you should try

really hard not to break them. Maybe Mom could fix up a box with cotton

in it, and you could take one to school.

Mom, put them in a box, Dozo.

Kathy, Where’s Daddy, Kathy? Just tell her I’ll be back and show her

on the globe.

Robin, you tell Kirk I’d much rather kiss Mom, not kick her.

I thought all the school pictures were really nice, thank you.

Don’t knock our four-holer please. It will probably take me a year to

remember to pull the chain!

Late, late, late, just time for a quick shower. Goodnight, Baby.

Love, Ray

K . L

Operation Hastings was the plan for Marine reconnaissance into Quang Tri in July.

Operation Irving was a search and destroy mission that took place in October. Shulimson,

An Expanding War, 1966, 159–76.

November 1966

———

Monday night

14 November 1966

Hello darling,

Oh, it was so nice to get your picture today. You look so good to me I

could eat you up! So now I know you really are there. Don’t have to shout

at you anymore, I can see you at your desk. Gosh, I’ll have to take one of

me at my desk—the kitchen table!

It even looks like my screening at the window. Is it? Did you ever get

it? Also, package #2 with clock and popcorn should be there, but it went

by regular mail. I sure hope they’re there by now. I think I have you spot-

ted on this map. There’s an island called Cu Lao Re off the coast, right? I

put a marker on the Quang Ninh/Quang Ngai border as being Chu Lai.

So glad to find you aren’t in Tay Ninh Province!

Ugh, ugh.

Man, you did give me a grocery list. So, good, I’ll get on it. However,

I spent a rather large amount today with hardly a batted eye. Bought the

20-volume World Book Encyclopedia, plus atlas ($25) and dictionary ($25)

for $251.

We really were ready for one believe it or not, and the bank

account was full, so I thought, “Why Not?” I really wasn’t that casual

about it. Karen had asked for one, Robin and Kirk also were needing one,

and we had brought Mom’s old Compton’s over, but it was outdated.

Then this weeks’ Time had an article on them, so when the lady came—I

had mentioned our need to the teacher and I guess she sent the saleslady

over—I was “ripe” and decided it was not a thrilling way to spend that much

money; but with four kids in school, it was almost a MUST and the time

had COME!

It’s a Field Enterprises one—the same company that made

Childcraft—but this one should take them through college, except for very

technical material.

We’ll get it in a couple of days. No bookcase—I’ll just

take the Compton’s and Childcraft out of the bookcase in the den. I com-

pared the dictionary with your old college one and it is three times better.

She may have been referencing media coverage from Operation Attleboro from approx-

imately September to November 1966 that was intended to test a new search and destroy

concept by the 196th Light Infantry Brigade, with the objective to discover the location of

People’s Army of Vietnam and Viet Cong base areas and force them to fight.

The World Book Encyclopedia, 23 vols. (Chicago: Field Enterprises Educational, 1966).

Compton’s Picture Encyclopedia and Fact Index (Chicago: Compton, 1966).

“Learning: Encyclopedias for Kids,” Time Magazine 88, no. 20, 11 November 1966.

Childcraft: The How and Why Library (Chicago: Field Enterprises Educational, 1966).

Chapter Two

———

And now, I’ll really have a good map too for looking up Vietnam. . . .

Saw pictures of propaganda leaflets being dropped from a propeller

plane that took off from Da Nang on TV tonight—got a glimpse of the

sandy beach runway up there. . . .

I’d trade places with you if I could get out of Christmas shopping.

Man, you do leave at the darnedest times. Just when I have to be the one

to wrap packages. Let’s just X out Xmas. I’m for that!

On that crunchy thought, I leave you . . . for the bedroom.

Gig a Wig

K . L

Monday night

14 November 1966

Hi Darling,

You’ve been so good about writing that I can’t believe it. One thing I’ve

done this time that I didn’t do in Japan is keep a calendar by the month.

You are on my table for three entries only: “money due,” “flight time,”

and “wrote Gig”—NOT necessarily in that particular order. If I can’t write

you every other night, it’s sure beyond my control, but I’ll try.

. . .

You wouldn’t think I had a feel for things if you could have seen me

today. I was so afraid I would not hear my alarm clock (set for 0430) that I

kept waking up all night long. Finally, it rang, and I got up, shaved, drove

(colonel’s jeep) over to the S-2 to brief, ran back to visit you know where,

grabbed a couple of fried eggs, and out to the plane. Lit off, taxi, take off

etc.—TACA [tactical air coordinator (airborne)]. We controlled a flight of

F-4s over one nice target and then went over to another and controlled a

flight of Douglas A-4 Skyhawks (mostly all bombs) headed for home with

little fuel, climbed up in the scud like an eagle, caught Da Nang’s tactical

control (TACON) for a fix down on a heading, broke out over Chu Lai

straight in, and back to the chocks.

Downed the aircraft because the big

smoke rockets we were supposed to mark the targets with didn’t fire. Off

The term scud refers to small, ragged, low cloud fragments that are unattached to a

larger cloud base and often seen with and behind cold fronts and thunderstorm gust

fronts. They are generally associated with cool moist air, such as thunderstorm outflow.

See NOAA National Weather Service Glossary.

November 1966

———

with the gear, debrief back to work (slightly sweating), look out the win-

dow—KABOOM! Mortars incoming? No. Outgoing rockets? Sure as hell,

there went two of our aircraft. As I told the skipper tonight, one of our

most aggravating comments on the aircraft yellow sheets to the pilots was

“ground checks okay” to our gripes, but in this case it was appropriate.

Well, it wasn’t too funny. They almost hit six people working on two of

VMFA-314’s aircraft right in front of it. It does happen. Matter of fact, two

hours later a Lockheed C-130 Hercules transport ran into one of those

same VMFA-314 aircraft, but of course all of that was prior to 0830 this

morning. Does this pace resemble “normal” day here? Sure does. And

that was just during the “working” hours, got 10 more to go usually. Some

good, some bad, but with one guarantee—all fast and furious. “Secondary”

means another mission over the one you just completed, your primary—

you know—fuel permitting. Why not? Usually, you only have a few min-

utes available after most missions and if there’s weather . . . well, there’s

always tomorrow—takes time to be a hero, especially when the malaria

pills are THAT big.

I started out to tell you how busy I’ve been today and, to hell with it,

there just isn’t time.

. . .

Listened to radio Hanoi last night; almost as bad as radio Havana,

only a little worse. Trying to be the big, understanding brother to the poor

misguided South Vietnamese.

Well, I almost did it again. It’s past my bedtime. When my eyes won’t

open, it’s time to stop. Don’t sweat the lousy penmanship. I’m obviously

not taking time to be careful or I wouldn’t even get started. I just bang on

through and work on the context. . . .

Would you believe . . . I’m so tired I’d believe anything, even that I

still love you for some reason.

Goodnight Honey,

Ray

The term yellow sheets refers to the Naval Aircraft Flight Record (OPNAV Form 3710/4)

that is then used to produce flying hour summary reports. See Flying Hours: Overview of

Navy and Marine Corps Flight Operations (Washington, DC: General Accounting Office,

1991).

Radio Hanoi refers to a propaganda station, with such personalities as Hanoi Hannah,

that was run by the North Vietnamese Army to undermine American morale.

Chapter Two

———

P.S. Did you ever get halfway through a haircut and lose all the denki for

the rest of the day?

K . L

Tuesday night

15 November 1966

Hi Honey,

Can you believe that date? Only two years ago, on a Monday night, Kathy

was born—16 November 1964. That was the week that was, wasn’t it? The

weather turned cold while I was in the hospital, remember? How wonder-

ful it all was after she was born. I’ll never forget a minute of it. You really

pampered me, and I ate it all up. And we had a whole week together—a

blessed week it was. . . .

Guess what! I think I know Lou Gagnon. His wife Gay was in my car-

pool for Kirk, and we talked on the phone many times. We met at several

parties too. A tall blonde, and he was a tall brunette. Right? They had four

children, I believe. Tell him I said to say hello to her. They left in January,

and she is still in Virginia, I think. Have you seen Larson or Major Earl

D. Litzenberger? I suppose not, being “ground pounders.”

Gagnon was

promoted to major while there at Quantico. Well, anyway, it sounds like

he is doing a fine job bringing beer and cokes from Japan to you. Great!

I’m bewildered about that popcorn. Surely, it’s there by now. Bought

the Crest, gasoline, and OFF today; flints and Playboy still to come. Fine

thing. The work boy wants Playboy. Robin was a bit shocked. She read

Playboy once at the barber shop!. . .

I’m so glad you like my letters. That really pleases me a lot. I was afraid

maybe you wouldn’t have the time to read them. I am just so amazed and

pleased when I get 2 in a row from you; 13 in all so far. And each one like

a gold nugget.

Well praise may turn your head, so I’ll just add that you’ve kept me

humping to keep up. I thought it would be the other way around. You

conditioned me to think so at least! Typical Stice stunt.

. . .

All for now, my love. I really do feel close to you in these letters. Send

me another undershirt for Christmas. I’m serious!

The literal translation from Japanese for denki is electricity.

The term ground pounder refers to U.S. Army or ground-based military units.

November 1966

———

KRKK and (da Mother), XXXs

Gig

K . L

Wednesday night

16 November 1966

Hi Baby,

. . .

Your last letter was written on the 11th—that’s not too bad at all.

Major J. B. “Jack” Acey (next door) came in this afternoon with no

shirt on and we were teasing him about his hairy chest. He’s put on just a

little weight and I told him if he’d shave that right tit, I’d take a picture of

it and mail it to Playboy! Chuckles come hard sometimes.

Colonel Owens came back this afternoon, so I guess I can start flying

again. He thought I’d done really well; the group executive officer was

calling me by my first name. The doctor, base operations, base security,

motor transport, and communications officer were all working together

and going through MABS instead of going to the group directly and then

interfering with the MABS later. He claimed he’d been too busy to even

try to regain control. I really think that is more an excuse than a reason,

but I sure hauled them in tight. I was getting pot shots from all over the

place the minute he left. The first day was chaos, second day murder, third

day utter confusion and still very murderous, fourth day grim but pass-

able, and the fifth day no lighter but a whole lot clearer and smoother. If

we hadn’t had a couple of accidents, today would have been really produc-

tive. One of the big problems is that almost all of our people also work for

the group in a dual capacity. I felt hamstrung, bypassed, uninformed, and

then shot at by the new directly informed group staff. That’s the way he

left things. Well, it’s been rough, but I gave him the control, coordination,

and cooperation to go along with the responsibility he’s always had and

no disciplinary problems after really chopping down a few wise ones. Of

course, the workload won’t really decrease very much now he’s back, but

it’s been kind of like hitting your head against the wall because it feels so

good when you quit.

I never got completely in the clear, but I got the feeling there was a

clearing somewhere. The damn squadron is getting bigger all the time and

it won’t be too long before it’s really beyond the span of control. Coupled

with no sergeant major on the bottom and being short two major’s in the

Chapter Two

———

middle. Talk about learning from your mistakes. I even made a real old

one with the executive officer. He asked me how much fluid was in one of

our arresting gear engines and I tried to “estimate.”

He said, “You aren’t

going to give me that old crappy MABS bullshit, are you? Do you know?”

What could I say? “No, Sir, I don’t know. I’ll find out.” One of our biggest

problems is trying to run an entire air station complex on stateside, peace-

time men and equipment. We are our own public works, maintenance,

sanitation, mess halls, clubs, PX, post office, crash crew, guard, weather

station, bomb dump, multi-radar, motor transport, phone system, head

[latrine] builder, and maker of electricity, churches, and hospitals. We

only have two explosive ordnance disposal (EOD) people, for instance.

They are the ones who have to get under these smoldering hulks—more

times than not, dig in the sand—that used to be planes and remove the

fuses from the hot foam-sprayed, slimy wet bombs and rockets before they

either blow up or certainly before the aircraft can be moved off the run-

way and get the damn field open again before someone flames out for lack

of fuel. So, one of our biggest jobs is writing letters pleading for more gear,

more men, and doing it properly and thoroughly enough so that the wing

and back home believe it enough to cut loose and help out. And they are

slow but sure. Some things we’ll never get I’m sure—some types of people

we may never get—but I’m generally optimistic, though 10 years from now

who knows.

What a lousy letter, huh? I feel like I’ve done my job and I’m ready to

go home! Ha! How about them apples! Ready for a frolic Ferdinand? . . .

I love you, Darling,

Ray

K . L

16 November 1966

Hi Darling,

Wow was I snowed when those four “letters” arrived today. Couldn’t

imagine what they were! . . .

Oh, what a wild thing to spot in the twentieth century—elephants

The term arresting gear engine refers to a mechanical system used to rapidly decelerate an

aircraft as it lands either on a runway or deck.

November 1966

———

from a jet! And the elephants kept plodding while the guns jammed. That

really is a good story. Talk about rubbing your eyes.

I try not to talk about your flying much because I might say the wrong

thing. But I do of course note all you say, and I don’t mind reading about

it. Just can’t talk about it. So, rave on and I’ll be your devoted listener

(who tries not to chew her nails.)

. . .

Kirk misses you a lot and I got out Life Magazine to show him a story

about the Marines in the DMZ. . . . My copy just now getting here. It was

grim, but he took it well.

He was in a lonesome mood, I guess. I had

told him to polish his shoes and he was feeling a bit unfathered. He really

does seem to need you the most, especially when we talk about the things

men do. . . . Maybe it’s hard to be grownup, good, and brave all the time

when you are only seven years old. Must go to bed. It’s much too late. I

love you, Honey.

Gig

K . L

Thursday night

17 November 1966

Hi Darling,

Wow, another letter today! That’s four days in a row, and it sure has been

nice. I can hardly believe my eyes when I see one in the mailbox. Have I

been doing that well with you? Mine sometimes miss the morning mail

though, as the mailman doesn’t come until afternoon, so I take them up

to the post office every day that I have my clothes on!

Sorry you had to get chewed out at 0700 on your first day without

the colonel. That’s like getting it with both barrels. It’s bad enough just

to have your eyes open at that hour! Oh well, maybe he had optirectalis.

It sounds like you got things straightened out later in the day though. At

least, I hope so for both our sakes. I’m sure things will be better once you

Maynard Parker, “Marines Blunt DMZ Invasion: The Crucial Battle to Block North

Vietnam’s Infiltration Route Through the ‘Demilitarized’ Zone,” Life Magazine, 28 Oc-

tober 1966.

Though the reference is unclear, the term optirectalis may be slang for someone with

negative outlook on life.

Chapter Two

———

get those personnel holes filled. It sounds like good experience in leader-

ship at any rate! As a matter of fact, I’ll bet your “performance” was pretty

hot too—if it was eyeball to eyeball! Thank goodness, my eyeballs aren’t on

a level with yours . . .

. . .

I’m really quite happy here in our house and always so glad to get

home from people. But I keep having the feeling that something is miss-

ing and that something is you.

A real estate man called today about whether I needed a house—said

he was a Reserve Marine and if I ever needed him to call Major Louis B.

Robertshaw at the recruiting place. Wondered why Major Robertshaw

hadn’t met you. Marines are so scarce here in Austin; they really are inter-

ested in you. I said thanks, it was nice to know I had a friend.

. . .

Karen was so pleased you were proud of her. And Kirk was relieved

that he was forgiven for the fossil breakage. Kathy has not forgotten you at

all and when I say where’s Daddy, she points to the sky and says “Daddy,

bye bye.” She listens for airplanes a lot.

Your third package is ready for mailing with flints, Crest, Vaseline,

and OFF. Did you ever get the other two?

. . .

Happy Thanksgiving, Love. Hope the chow is extra good that day.

The Marine Corps Birthday meal sounded great.

All for now, Darling,

Gig

K . L

Friday night late

18 November 1966

Hi Sweetheart,

Today’s been something else—started out with a bad case of running back

and forth to the out-castle, flew up north this noon, went back to work,

grabbed a quick late chow first (no breakfast to starve an intestinal cold?),

and then back out again tonight. I missed chow again—right now, a beer

and peanuts tastes really good.

Honey, you send me anything you desire, except Mom’s letters to you

November 1966

———

as they just make me mad. I can take the ones she writes me because she

tries not to be antagonistic. Well, don’t bother with that.

Did you ever get that snapshot of me Lou Gagnon took? He took an-

other one outside yesterday, but it was a 35 mm, not a Polaroid. If you’re

not going to take movies . . . I’ll take some out here. Oh, something else,

ask Don to check the furnace filters. They are used just as much with the

heater as the air conditioner. Is it getting cool there now?

I did make a stupid mistake before I left. I told you Vietnam was

below the equator—of course it’s not—just enough to cover the hills with

jungle. I can still look out every night and see Cassiopeia clear as a bell

and Orion and the Dipper (although low).

. . .

I’m sorry I’m too tired to write tonight. I’m just sitting here half-

dozing. I’ve got to shower and get to bed.

Goodnight, Honey. I’ve got a 0630 brief tomorrow morning.

I love you,

Ray

K . L

Saturday night

19 November 1966

Hello Precious Lamb,

I just came home from a sexy French movie—A Man and a Woman—and

it was poignant.

Meaning it definitely made me think of you. It was

about a sports car driver who drove in the Le Mans to Monte Carlo and

lead scenes you would have eaten up. It was also, of course, a love story

about a widow and widower who each have one child and sleep together,

but not quite as they had past experiences that kept them preoccupied

during the love scenes. So, it was sort of like four people in bed. . . . The

race drivers had something in them very like you—a preoccupation with

a technical machine, very intense, sophisticated, and at the same time

simple, unsophisticated, unspoiled love of life itself. And since I live and

love just that sort of complicated, simple type of person, it wasn’t unusual

A Man and a Woman, directed by Claude Lelouch (Beverly Hills, CA: United Artists,

1966).

Chapter Two

———

that I should see you in the picture. For instance, the fellow won the

grueling Le Mans and drove back the same night just because the girl

wired, “Bravo, I love you!”

How many times have you come back from

ever so many days and nights of tortuous work and only asked for me to

be there. I ached, for instance, when he couldn’t find her after this long

drive. And she couldn’t possibly have known what he went through to

get back to her. Life is so very lopsided that way. It’s a wonder men and

women ever get together.

Oh Angel, you are so cheerful, even tired and bleary and numb. You

have the most marvelous way of taking whatever comes. But not like a

martyr at all, which makes life so unbearable for real martyrs like me! A

cheerful martyr, that’s what you are. Ghastly! No, not ghastly at all just

perfect and that’s all you get for tonight. You really will be unbearable

when you come back. Spoiled rotten just because I get mushy in letters.

. . .

No, I never got halfway through a haircut and lost all the denki for

the rest of the day because I don’t know what a denki is. Heaven help me

if you start speaking Vietnamese. You haven’t even mastered English yet!

Point: SAIGON not SIAGON. AGGRAVATING not AGGRIVATING.

. . .

This is extra-long because you were extra-good this week. Five letters.

Sometimes I really think I could love you . . . especially on Saturday night

. . . a certain MAN and a WOMAN.

XXXs,

Gig

K . L

Saturday night

19 November 1966

Hi Darling,

. . . If I had my druthers, I probably would have picked the New Book of

Knowledge. I’ll never forget reading the old one as a child. It really left a

The Le Mans is not a fixed distance race, but the winner is determined by whoever

travels the greatest distance in 24 hours.

November 1966

———

lasting impression and a strong nostalgia. I hope your new World Book has

lots of projects for the kids. . . . Some night, you should take the top three

over to the University of Texas planetarium, if they have one. They would

really enjoy it.

. . .

Kirk, I’ll take you deer hunting when I come home. Ask your mom

if you can practice a little once and awhile on your BB gun so you can

learn how to sight and squeeze the trigger. Remember what the sights

should be?

Robin, how’s your math coming along? I was really surprised when

you told me about that!

Karen, you’ll have to write me again too, all of your letters were so

nice. It made me wish I could be there, but of course I can’t. It takes an

awful lot of people to fight this war, and everyone is working all day long

every day. We all feel we’re right in helping these people and they cer-

tainly are grateful. For instance, tomorrow morning one of our doctors is

going to operate on an eight-year-old boy’s leg that has been bent up for

a long time. He had polio when he was three and the doctor is going to

straighten it out and fix him all up so he can run and play like the other

kids. You should have seen his mother; she was so happy she cried and

went off jabbering in Vietnamese all over the village about it. They don’t

understand our language, but they sure understand kindness. You don’t

have to speak that!

. . . You don’t have to send me news accounts, Honey. We get Radio

Saigon at noon and 2200, and it’s about the same thing you all hear. The

best news, of course, comes in daily summaries we all read.

Well, with two hops yesterday (last one at night) and the damn early

morning, if I go to sleep right now, I’ll be in good shape for tomorrow. So,

with that thought, sack time!

I love you, Baby. I really love you,

Ray

K . L

The University of Texas has several planetariums, though they do not reside in the Aus-

tin area. The McDonald Observatory is in West Texas and the Arlington campus hosts a

planetarium.

Chapter Two

———

Monday

21 November 1966

Hello Darling,

It’s Monday morning and I haven’t mailed Saturday’s letter yet. So, I

might as well send two. Yesterday was sort of emotional all around. It was

20 November, which was the day Dad died, and so Mom wanted us to go

to church with her as she had flowers in his memory. I woke up late (after

my lovely binge letter to you) when she called, and she asked why I was late

getting up, so she got blasted off the hook right then and there.

. . .

Well, that just sort of climaxed the whole day with Melba giving me

solid gold earrings in typical Melba fashion—“All I want is your love and

your kids.” Melba has bought love with jewelry for years. I don’t even

wince anymore.

Golly, there are so many kooks in the world it’s hardly worth getting

enraged. I just thank God for a sane husband and sane children. I keep

wishing you were around to help me laugh or take me away or something!

Just the memory of you helps me stick to my convictions, however. Also,

some choice Marine swear words that go rolling around in my head that

people never hear. Good old Marine swear words. I love ’em all!

Gosh, I feel better already. Will go mail this now.

I love you, Darling,

Gig

K . L

Monday night

21 November 1966

Hi Darling,

And how are you tonight? Have you forgiven me for forgetting Kathy’s

birthday? Being sorry doesn’t mean much, but no, I will never forget the

night she was born. You needed some help, the doctor needed help, and I

couldn’t help. Now that is a difficult position. I really thought I was going

to lose you. I sure prayed that night. I love all my children dearly, but no

more of that for you. I was just one of the architects, while you were the

contractor and builder.

November 1966

———

You’re right about Lou Gagnon, this is his second wife. He married

her a couple of years ago after his first wife died, leaving him with three

kids.

. . .

Just came back from seeing old Martha Raye. She gave us an outstand-

ing half-hour show—popping all over the place—a real honest professional.

She ended up saying the jerk demonstrators back home weren’t fit to

clean the mud off their (our) boots. They ate that up. Sorry, kids, no

autograph.

Don’t worry about my not having time to read your letters. That’s

sort of like breathing you know—always find time for that. I have them

all clipped together and opened out so I can read them like a book. And

what a wonderful chapter you always seem to add.

We’ve been getting ready for the big blow. Typhoon Nancy is kicking

up her heels between Manila and here.

About midnight, the sand start-

ed blowing; three hours later, everything is covered with sand—us too—

we’re here too. Woke up with the damnedest taste in my mouth—sand.

. . . I’m not sure if we can fly much more than tomorrow. It’s supposed to

arrive Wednesday around noon.

Some weather up north on the early early. I only got to see the ground

for a few seconds and I had the wrong damn river to boot! Good thing

we don’t shoot first and ask questions later, we’ll have some unfriendly

friendlies.

Got 120 feet of rappelling line for the tall timber. So far, I’ve flown

about 20 missions these first four weeks. That’s not bad considering the

boss was gone almost one week. I got the “dawn patrol” again tomorrow.

Goodnight, Sweetheart, I need that old rack time.

I love you,

Ray

K . L

Martha Raye was an actress, comedian, and singer. Frank Blazich, “ ‘Maggie of the

Boondocks’: Martha Raye and a Lifetime of Service to the U.S. Armed Forces,” National

Museum of American History, 9 November 2021.

Meteorologists began tracking the storm on 17 November and it reached tropical storm

strength on 19 November before emerging over the South China Sea on 21 November.

Chapter Two

———

Tuesday night

22 November 1966

Hello Darling,

It’s always so good when the day is over and I can sit down and write you.

I really wait all day for it, and tonight seemed extra-long as I weakened

and let the children watch a Danny Kaye fairy story movie until 2200 on

a school night.

But tomorrow, they get out at 1400 and have a four-day

holiday, so it’s an easy week for them.

I really didn’t think I’d get lonesome for you on Thanksgiving, never

having made too much fuss over that holiday, but today I bought a turkey

and cranberries and have an awful yen for oyster dressing. And to my sur-

prise find I do have some memories of Thanksgivings with you. . . .

Well, guess what I see and hear all the time now—McDonnell Douglas

F-4C Phantom IIs! Bergstrom got its first F-4Cs from St. Louis, Missouri,

five months early. They are changing from Strategic Air Command (SAC)

to Tactical Air Command (TAC) and made a to-do on TV about getting

15 the other day.

Kathy really thinks she is going to see you now when

we go there. She and I drove out today. She always sleeps coming home,

of course. . . .

I was so proud of your accomplishments while the colonel was away.

It sounds like you moved quite a few mountains while he was gone! It

sounds like they also discovered Ray Stice; the whirlwind Ray Stice that

I live with that is. Like Colonel Joiner said to me, “He tries . . . he more

than tries! He gets the job done!” Well, anyway, I can tell you did try to

get things going smoother even if the job isn’t the kind that is going to

be finished overnight. And I’m sure several people appreciate the fact. I

know I always do when you fix things up for me. They don’t know how

lucky they are to have you.

The Daydreamer, directed by Jules Bass (Los Angeles, CA: Embassy Pictures, 1966).

Strategic Air Command was part of the U.S. Air Force that dealt with long-range stra-

tegic bombardment. Largely recognized as two-thirds of America’s nuclear triad, it also

conducted bombing during the Vietnam War from bases in Guam and Thailand. Tactical

Air Command was another element of the Air Force that was largely comprised of fighter

and attack aviation somewhat akin to Marine air in mission sets. On 1 July 1966 Berg-

strom Air Force Base was transferred to a TAC, becoming home to the Twelfth Air Force

and the 75th Tactical Reconnaissance Wing. See NORAD/CONAD Historical Summary,

January–December 1966 (Colorado Springs, CO: Command History Division, Secretary

Joint Staff, Headquarters NORAD/CONAD, 1967).

November 1966

———

. . .

On TV tonight, they corrected a statement that wives could go on

reduced rates to Hawaii to meet husbands on leave—no such luck. It’s a

nice thought though, and maybe we should think about it. I don’t think

I could let you go again though!

. . .

The news has been about the battle in War Zone C and the 7,000

infiltrating from the north, on a year’s basis that is.

That’s about it in the tidbit department. Have you gotten my pack-

ages?

I am still in a deep state of shock from Mrs. Gig the Pig, and the

children (Karen) think you ought to change that to Mrs. Stice and her

mice. More dignified, you know. You must remember MY passion, pizazz?

Oh, just find me. I’m the one with red eyes from staying up writing YOU

THANG. (Oh, Daddy got that from Gomer Pyle!)

Can’t get away with

a THANG, can you!

XXXs, G.

K . L

Tuesday night

22 November 1966

Hi Honey,

Do my letters smell as bad as yours smells good? What do you do, keep

the paper in your dresser near some perfume? I keep mine on top of my

moldy clothes for “arc de parsparin.”

Enclosed is today’s schedule just so you believe me and my 0530 rev-

elries and the need for a stiff alarm clock. Lord only knows where your

package is and Mom’s too. Why don’t you reimburse Mom the $60 bucks

to help settle her account?

War Zone C refers to the area in South Vietnam centered around the abandoned town

of Katum near the Cambodian border, where a strong concentration of People’s Army of

Vietnam (PAVN) and Viet Cong activity took place. “War Zone C,” in The Oxford Essential

Dictionary of the U.S. Military (Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press, 2001), https://doi

.org/10.1093/acref/9780199891580.001.0001.

Gomer Pyle, USMC, was a television show that aired on CBS from 1964 to 1969 and

starred Jim Neighbors as the somewhat dimwitted Marine from Mayberry, NC, stationed

at Camp Henderson, CA.

Chapter Two

———

Would you believe I’m out of cigarettes, and this isn’t exactly the time

I want to quit at this exact instant.

P.S. Can we talk privately? . . .

Hell, I love you so much I can’t stand thinking about it, and I can’t

stop either! I’ve tried to reason it away, but it’s still there. You know what

I mean? I do have a notion that might help if we can manage it—sort

of a selfish thing, but it might work—if we cut the kids off with a razor

about 2100 and thought only about ourselves for a few hours and did

this often enough with locked doors. Maybe that would be a step in the

right direction. Can we stop being a mom and dad after 2100? I think it

would work.

. . .

Goodnight, Honey,

Ray

K . L

Wednesday night

23 November 1966

To: Major Wing-a-Ding-Ding

Hello Honey,

Robin handed me this letter for you tonight and added to me privately

“I didn’t know the letters he needed me to work on, just the hard ones

I decided.” She got busy on it after I told her she’d better get after you

about your spelling. And you know Robin. She always rises to a challenge.

So, your daughter is going to get you straightened out. I wish her luck! If

you ever quit “comming” places and just say you are coming, it would be

a start.

. . .

I’ve got to make this short as tomorrow I’m cooking an 11-pound

turkey for the Ks, As, and Ss.

I got out the good silver and polished until

my back ached. It sure needed it. Actually, I thought it would be good for

the kids if I made a party out of it. Don is going to bring the tape recorder

The Ks were the Kirkpatrick family. Don and Ed Kirkpatrick were Gig’s brothers. The

As were the Austin family. Sam Austin was Gig’s uncle and her mother Pris’s brother. Bill

Austin was Sam’s son. Bill and Nan Austin had 11 children, so there were many cousins.

The Ss were the Stice family.

November 1966

———

over, and we’ll take snapshots too. He says he wants to try my voice for

his commercials, and if the clients like it, I might make $10! Imagine me

making money. . . .

I can’t imagine where the popcorn and clock are. It got sent, that’s

all I know. Regular mail though, so I hope it’s not on the Saigon docks!

Kirk was happy to hear about the BB gun decision. Thanks, Dad. And

the battery decision. Whose side are you on, anyway? He had a hard day

today—couldn’t find his shoes, forgot his money, got about 10 spankings,

and got consoled by his grandmother. (While his hard-hearted Mother

sneered. Boy, did she get a dirty look!) Let’s face it, there are times when

mothers are no damn good. I think I’ll be a nice soft father for a while.

Maybe that’s the trouble, I have to be a father instead of a mother some-

times! I’ll tell you one thing, when it comes to BB guns, batteries, and

deer hunting, you can have him!

Speaking of stamps, they say I can mail letters for 5 cents and they

will get there as fast as 8 cents.

Tried it once, did it get there? . . . . Read

about the 25 Viet Cong near Chu Lai. Sounds like they got them all by

ground, air, and sea.

I was glad you wrote about the “good” side of the war, like helping

the Vietnamese boy. I’m sure they are glad you are all there when they can

finally see the truth, like in the story I mailed yesterday.

. . . Take good care of yourself. Repeat after me: “On my honor, I will

try to write shorter letters and EAT MORE, SLEEP MORE, and SMOKE

LESS.”

. . .

XXXs,

K . L

According to the Department of Labor, approximately 22 million women were in the

American workforce in 1960, a 35 percent increase from 1950. Working wives accounted

for 12.4 million of those workers. Median annual income at the time for women in the la-

bor market—typically clerical, service, or professional (office) positions—was $2,230. Wom-

en Workers in 1960: Geographical Differences, Women’s Bureau Bulletin 284 (Washington,

DC: Government Printing Office, 1962).

“Postal History: Rates for Stamped Cards and Postcards,” USPS, March 2023.

Shulimson, U.S. Marines in Vietnam: An Expanding War, 1966.

Chapter Two

———

Thursday night, Thanksgiving

24 November 1966

Hi Honey,

Would you believe tonight is Thanksgiving—well, here anyway? What a

meal: ham, turkey, sweet patoooties, “punkin” pie—the whole bit. My

eyes were a bit larger than my stomach as usual, and I left some for the

Gods. I will say my thoughts were drawn to you all very strongly. I could

even feel you saying a prayer, and I said one for you, silently of course.

You wouldn’t think it was a holiday at the 0530 brief. I suspect the pur-

pose of these flights is to roar around making so much noise to wake the

Viet Cong up bright and early to make them mad enough to shoot at us

and then we could clobber ’em. We almost got a secondary, but the idiot

wouldn’t come up on the frequency we were given.

Typhoon Nancy has degenerated to an extra tropical blob now, and I

think we’ll only get the drags starting tomorrow, with heavy rain and a lot

of gusty winds (20–40 knots) until Saturday morning.

We got our first local United Nations (UN) laborers today—an inter-

preter, Mr. Tu—says he has a brother in Da Nang in the Army of the Re-

public of Vietnam (ARVN) (a captain), probably both staunch Viet Cong,

and 3 females and 11 men (from 18th ARVN Division).

Get seven more

tomorrow. Mr. Tu wants a UN typist and an UN typewriter. I don’t know

about that.

Just strolled down to our temporary club that is about one-half again

as large as your “den” there, all handmade out of bamboo, thatching, and

woven palm leaves—really not bad for $350 and 18 bags of cement ($2 an

officer). We’re building a permanent one 180’ x 90’ for $3,600 ($20 an

officer).

They almost transferred a guy into MABS that was a couple numbers

senior to me, but that’s suspended now. I’m sure he couldn’t be executive

officer because it’s a command billet and he’s not an aviator. We’re having

a lot of trouble getting the guard all in the same chain of command and

it’s a bit screwed up.

. . .

The Army of the Republic of Vietnam (ARVN) was the ground component for the

South Vietnamese government. It developed a rather dubious reputation for corruption

and ineffectiveness in the field when compared to American forces.

November 1966

———

Way past my bedtime. My bed’s pretty big so come on!

I love you,

Ray

K . L

Friday night

25 November 1966

Hi Honey,

Yes, and how are you, mother of my four children? Today was bonanza

day out in Chu Lai West. I got four letters: a real sweet letter from Pris,

one from Mom, and two ever-loving letters from guess who—my girlfriend,

that’s who—old friend of mine that I used to shack up with or whoever

the hell you are.

. . . Did Kirk deliver my kiss for me? Robin could even add a good

hard love, they are all so good.

Yes, the Republicans did very well. You know, all the years I’ve been

around Marines that I’ve only met a few Democrats and some scattered

agnostics—90 percent must be Republican.

Looks grim on the F-4 checkout. January is my only chance and Col-

onel Owens only wants me to fly every other day, let alone go to Japan for

six weeks to get checked out when VMFA-115 goes back to Japan.

I hate to disillusion my dear sweet mom-in-law, but no Time magazines

please. I get enough of that (like say 12 months) of back issues. Playboys

might be received . . . possibly. After reading 1,000,000,000 messages,

letters, orders, rivetous [fascinating] requests, regulations, I’m bleary eyed.

Only a good bosom will perk up the old eyeballs! Please don’t blast her,

regardless of how it may appear, she really has only your best thoughts in

mind. I learned to live with mine; you have a little patience with yours.

Okay?

. . . I always did say you had to be a nut to walk off and leave your

wife. I sure am a NUT, yes ma’am. . . . Kathy give Karen a LOVE , that way

you’ll learn to be as sweet as your mom.

Though not specific to the period, a 2009 Gallup poll showed that most veterans of all

ages were Republican; however, a 2020 Bloomberg article discussed how the military’s

preference for the Republican party may have shifted. For a more detailed look at both,

see Everett Bledsoe, “What Percentage of the US Military Is Conservative—4 Sources,”

Soldiers Project, 1 March 2023.

Chapter Two

———

. . .

I hate to tell you but denki is electricity. No, I don’t know any Viet-

namese yet. I have to see Mr. Tu about that. Maybe he’ll teach me some

good Viet Cong I could use.

Gomen (English: I’m sorry), Honey. Rack time—it’s late even here, you

know. Know what? I sure do love you.

Ray

P.S. Kirk—shine your shoes! Karen—clean your teeth! Robin—keep up the

good work! Kathy—kiss Mama.

K . L

Saturday

27 November 1966

Hello Sweetie,

Three days down and one to go of the kid’s holiday. They are struggling

over letters to you right at this moment, mostly so I can have a moments

peace to write. Should have written last night, but I must confess that I

read McCall’s magazine all evening. Really sort of pooped. We spent a

busy Thursday cleaning house—the girls mopped—stuffing turkey, setting

the table, and cutting berries for it. We finished around 1500. . . . Kathy

went around all day saying num num and licking her chops! The turkey

cooked 5 hours and got looked at 500 times. The cranberries never jelled!

Mom came over and played ping pong with the kids after her company

left for the game and Don came over with Uncle Sam’s recorder (his is

broken) around 1700.

He had cleaned out his tapes and found the one

we made in Beeville, Texas, for him in New York, so he played it for us

during the cocktail hour. . . .

It filled the day and we did get a tape made for you, though it is pretty

wild. Don left the recorder for me to use the other side, but I decided not

to as you’d probably have to play the thing in public and I’d rather write

my coos on paper! So, it has some old songs of Don’s on one side, which

he said you can erase if you want to send it back.

. . .

The University of Texas played football against Texas A&M University in Austin, win-

ning 22-14.

November 1966

———

Whew! Kids finished letters and are off to the store. Baby asleep early,

as Don is taking us to the caverns this afternoon somewhere in the hills.

Regarding your 22 November letter, I was so glad you got to see Mar-

tha Raye. She is indeed a pro, and they are the most fun to see. I was

surprised to hear about the typhoon. No mention of it in the papers here.

As a matter of fact, just yesterday, Chu Lai made the news. That’s like

hearing two versions: the official one and your side. And your side is a bit

more vivid!

Well, here’s sand in your eye! (That’s a joke, choke, Dad?) The weath-

er is still balmy here; no furnace in the last two weeks at least. But yes, I

will remember to clean it out. I’m really pretty good at house maintenance

now. It just takes me until midnight to lock up, that’s all. By the way, you

are being much more sensible about your bedtime. . . . Maybe I will be too.

There are a number of caverns in the hill country around Austin she could be referring

to, including Inner Space Caverns in Georgetown, those around Barton Creek, or Long-

horn Caverns State Park.

Figure 18. Karen, Kathy, Robin, and Kirk ready for the holidays

Source: Stice family collection.

Chapter Two

———

XXXs and then some,

Gig

K . L

Sunday night, 2245

27 November 1966

Well, Sweety (or is it sweaty?),

I’m a bit fuzzy at this point. Just “read” a book in one hour and it almost

put me to sleep. So, hang on while the water boils for coffee. Missed the

news. Somehow those kids kept me talking until 2130 about you and

presidents and heaven knows what else. Best part of the day, however,

so I didn’t mind. It was a long day today and hard to fill. The last of the

holidays, and all the kids were home with no playmates, weather is cold,

and nothing to do. Don filled yesterday with the trip to the [Inner Space]

caverns near Georgetown. Made us all think of you and the Luray Caverns

[Virginia]. We were such old pros that the guide had to work to keep our

interest. It was a small group and Kirk literally played in the cavern. He

(the guide) showed us total darkness and, man, that really is black down

there! Then they had a record saying, “And God said let there be light.”

And guess what? They turned the lights back on. Right?! Oh, you’re so

smart. We were also supposed to listen to the drips. It was hard, as Kirk

had a pack of gum in his mouth.

. . .

Say now, “your” Playboy issue (December 1966) costs $1.25 and so

somebody is going to make a Christmas present out of it! Karen tried to

take a peek and I wouldn’t buy it while she was around.

So glad tomorrow is Monday, and I will perk up with a letter from

you. Sure can’t hack a Sunday without you. Wish you could see Kathy play

monster in the nude or put both feet in a hole in a pair of pants, with the

other hole in the back.

. . .

Gigabeth

K . L

Monday

28 November 1966

Hi Darling,

How about this for schoolbook paper. Would you believe it’s: 1) raining;

November 1966

———

2) very late; 3) approaching an 18-hour day; and 4) lonesome without you,

Baby? Do you believe all that?

Would you also believe no evening meal, forced to drink 4–5 beers on

an empty stomach while Colonel Owens proofreads the roughs?

And how about I just plain love you! That shouldn’t be too difficult

to believe. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to keep up the daily letters—even

missed every other day this time. Please don’t let your morale slip. You’ve

been doing so great in that department. I’d hate to think your morale

depended completely on my letters, although I will say I do rely heavily on

yours for the proper spirit.

I guess I really should go to church, but Sundays are just like all the

rest. Sometimes my attitude needs to be expanded on maybe four sides

instead of three.

One of our corporals is being rotated tomorrow, and he’s been work-

ing as long as I have today—voluntarily—that’s the sort of people that really

make everything worth it here.

And we have the other type; the mama’s boys who are so insecure

and undisciplined they aren’t worth the trouble they create. But all in all,

everyone really works hard.

I shouldn’t write to you under these conditions, but I’m afraid it’s

been too long as it is . . . .

Would you believe still no packages—nyet [no] popcorn, nyet clock—

and I’m still missing breakfasts. That’s not your doing, I know, but Uncle

Sam is screwing up somewhere.

Would you believe I’m mildewed—completely raunchy—stinking up a

storm. There’s something about this permanent damp—hell—wetness that

just isn’t sociable. Doing fairly well on the dry (wet?) rot, and only have

two known types of fungus on my hands and feet. But I still have all my

fingernails, which is more than a few people can say (root rot they say).

We only have one guitar player left in the hut; Carl Bott went over

to MAG-12 to fly A-4s. That only leaves Tennessee Major Bernard H.

“Bernie” Thomas (one of the elephant hunters) and a new . . . major to

kick a few.

You think all is wine and roses, eh? Well, let me tell you how rough

For more on these health issues, see “Diseases,” in Annual Report of the Surgeon General

United States Army, Fiscal Year 1961 (Washington, DC: Office of the Surgeon General,

Department of the Army, 1961), chap. 6.

Chapter Two

———

it is in combat. I just tore a hole in my Sears plastic raincoat and ran out

of Coffee Mate. Now, isn’t that one hell of a way to fight a war? And I

don’t recall you sending any Playboys yet. . . . Things are bad all over. I did

see a recommendation for an Air Medal go through the colonel’s papers,

maybe things are looking up a little.

I will admit that not being able to buy anything for Santa Claus still

bugs me. I just don’t see an out. Maybe we could cheat a little—you send

me some tags and I’ll sign them for the, you know, children. . . .

Damn Navy game—lost 20 to 7—we heard.

Would you believe we

deciphered it through the static? Garbled portions of the game came in

about 0200 in the morning yesterday. I suppose Mom had a big deal in

DC for it; she always used to.

. . . Kisses to Karen, Robin, Kirk, Kathy, Pris, and perhaps one to Liz

if she’s been good!

I love you, Honey,

Ray

K . L

Tuesday afternoon

29 November 1966

Hi Honey,

Fresh paper for me too. We are really going through it, aren’t we? Your

letter yesterday told how good mine smells, which surprised me. No, I’m

not putting anything on it and only keep it in your old dresser drawer

there in the living room. But I like the thought anyway.

I’m afraid that letter got opened at Mom’s house, as I was on my way

out when it came, so I’m glad you wrote “Psst, don’t read out loud,” as

I was just doing so when I hit that part! Regarding what you said, yes,

I’m sure we will be able to have time to ourselves when you come home.

The children are growing up, you know, and we are approaching the time

Established in 1942, the Air Medal is awarded for meritorious achievement in aerial

operations, for heroic acts in aerial operations against an armed enemy, or for merit in

operational activities. During the Vietnam War, a single award of the Air Medal denoted

participation by ground troops in a requisite number of combat air assaults.

The annual Army vs. Navy football game took place on 26 November 1966 at the John

F. Kennedy Stadium in Philadelphia. The Army Cadets lost only two games that season to

Notre Dame and Tennessee.

November 1966

———

when our parental responsibilities will definitely be less and less. Less

physical, that is, and more supervisory. Already I am able to trust the chil-

dren to get up, feed themselves and Kathy, and wake me at 0755. I really

think you taught them that when they used to get up with you. At any

rate, it is certainly nice, and I am proud of them.

. . .

If I can just discipline myself to going to bed earlier, I will feel better,

I think. But without you home, really, bed is pretty dull and cold to boot!

So, I piddle around until midnight, and feel sort of rundown as a result.

It will sure be nice to have you around to go to bed with, among other

things.

. . .

I find it really helps me if I “let you go” in my mind and think it’s

right for you to be there, helping the guys on the ground to keep from

getting hurt. I just figure if I were getting shot at, I sure would be grateful

to see a jet with you in it fly over. And if I were an enlisted Marine, I’d

be grateful for a sane officer over me. . . . In fact, it’s so right for you to

be there, it would be wrong not to! If an 18-year-old boy can be a profes-

sional with one year’s training, we can do it together with 16–17 years

training.

Yes, I know that’s corny and uncharacteristic of me to spout the pro-

fessional line, but this is one of those times when we both need to remem-

ber every bit of patriotism we ever learned and forget our personal selves.

I guess that’s what freedom is. In order to have the right to talk against

something, you have to be able to fight for something. And in my way, I’m

trying to fight too. As a matter of fact, you don’t know how frustrating it

is to me to have to stay home.

If I made home sound good, it’s only be-

cause I’m trying to kid myself. I’d much rather be with you—bugs, lizards,

and all. . . .

At any rate, what I’m saying is I’m an adult—you are an adult—we can

hack it better than the average couple, so don’t weaken, love. When you

weaken, I turn to mush. And there is nothing worse than a mushy female.

That mush I know.

END OF SERMON. Must send you an issue of Life magazine I read

Jyoti Prakash, R. D. Bavdekar, and S. B. Joshi, “The Woes of Waiting Wives: Psychoso-

cial Battle at Homefront,” Medical Journal Armed Forces India 67, no. (January 2011): 58–63,

https://doi.org/10.1016/S0377-1237(11)80016-X.

Chapter Two

———

last night about the North American Aviation XB-70 Valkyrie. Wow, what

a story. My hair was standing on end.

Kathy says, “ugh a boo boo, Daddy.” Thank you for the nice letter! . . .

Love from all the local yokels—the vocal, local, yokels that is.

Wifesan

K . L

Wednesday night

30 November 1966

Hello Honey,

You sure raise some wise children. Robin’s letter really put me in my

place. What can I say?

Guess who just moved in the hut—Major Ray D. Pendergraft. He’s F-4

qualified naturally. He’s off with Major Joseph B. “Joe” Wuertz.

Would you believe I get one of your packages with three popcorns,

three cans of OFF, flints, three light bulbs, and toothpaste but no clock.

Well now, I do thank you. I do believe you sent a clock, right?

. . .

You’d better be taking some movies, Gig, that’s an order! Kirk, you

help Karen help Mom. I don’t want another blank year like we had last

time. You can read the book, can’t you?

I may have one small crack at some Christmas shopping next week on

the sixth. I’ve put in to go to Okinawa for a recheck in the Low-Pressure

Chamber and Ejection Seat and Disorientation Training Series we’re sup-

posed to have every two years.

I hope to grab a couple of mad hours in

the Kadena PX somehow, get them wrapped, and mailed. I can see that

the colonel isn’t going to give me the time off, so this is the only way.

The XB-70 Valkyrie was futuristic-looking six-engine strategic bomber capable of Mach

3. Its high-altitude mission appeared obsolete in the face of modern air defenses, and the

aircraft was incredibly expensive to maintain and operate. The program was formally can-

celed in 1969. Keith Wheeler, “How the XB-70 Starfighter [sic] Met Its End: The Second-

by-Second Story of the Mid-Air Crash that Destroyed the Triple-Sonic Airplane,” Life, 11

November 1966, 126–43.

Maj Ray D. Pendergraft from VMFA-542, MAG-13, 1st MAW, III MAF, was killed on 2

July 1967 when his aircraft was hit by ground fire in the DMZ near Kinh Mon.

For a modern example, see Navy SBIR 2008.2, Mixed Gas Hypoxia Training in Low

Pressure Chambers, Topic N08-139; and the NSTI Course Catalog from Navy Medicine

Operational Training Command.

November 1966

———

He’s worried about one thing: my flying and anything connected with it.

Only last night did he finally say, “Have a good hop” or something like

that. I can ask him all about his Korea flying, but he won’t discuss mine,

not even talk. He doesn’t even like to see me in flight gear! I guess he’s

jealous. Hell, he could fly the Grumman F-9 Cougar if he wanted to, but

he won’t. Guess he’s getting too old.

. . .

I hate to cut you short, Honey. I want to go to bed early and catch up,

feeling sort of run down tonight. When I catch myself yawning all day,

I’m tired!

Goodnight, Sweetheart. I love you,

Ray

K . L

Wednesday night

30 November 1966

Darling,

My what a sobering sight I saw on TV tonight. The rain and mud at Da

Nang. Somehow, I hadn’t quite pictured the weather as being that bad.

That must be the remains of the typhoon or the monsoon. You last men-

tioned the sand blowing but didn’t talk about the rain. I never saw such

mud in my life, except maybe at Omaha. They showed Major General

Lewis W. Walt and mentioned I Corps. I do hope it’s not quite that bad at

Chu Lai. It still hasn’t rained here since you left. Did you take it with you?

Really much too dry but bright cold and clear, warming in the afternoon.

We had one of our best days today, mostly because I went to bed at

2200 last night and felt so much better.

Kathy and I mailed you an issue of Life—because it had the interesting

airplane story—the tape, and a letter this morning. The tape cost 10 cents

to mail! . . . .

. . .

A nice day in all, though no letter from you, so it doesn’t rate as

perfect!

An aviation officer candidate in the Navy or Marine Corps must be at least 19 years old

and no older than 27 years at commissioning. Waiver requests for those up to 29 years old

are considered on a case-by-case basis.

Chapter Two

———

Myrtle writes, “The good sports like you make a heavy contribution

towards the success of men like Ray who carry the more obvious burden.”

Really very sweet of her to write that. I can see I’m going to get the full

sympathy bit from friends and relatives this Christmas. That may be more

of a burden than having you gone. I feel like a relay station. The price of

being married to an officer. I still don’t have my major’s wife image on

right. I keep thinking someone is going to drag me away for impersonat-

ing an officer’s wife. And I can’t go around with a sign around my neck

saying, “Caution, this one really doesn’t know what she is.”

When you are only 5’ tall, no one takes you seriously anyway. That’s

why I love you. You always take me seriously. You’ll never know how much

that has meant to me. And that’s about as serious as I’m going to get in

this letter. For heaven’s sake, next thing you know I’ll change into a prop-

er girl, and you’d never be able to stand me then.

Honey lamb, you know I really do kind of like you. Don’t get mad at

me in your dreams anymore. . . .

I love you,

Gig

———

DECEMBER 1966

1 December 1966

Hello Dearest,

Two nice letters from you today sounding pretty darn cheerful, I guess

from that Thanksgiving dinner and a stroll to the club. All small members

of the family enjoyed their tidbits, especially Robin tonight, who had her

halo slightly eschew. I decided tonight that she was going to have to get

along with Kirk because she is the oldest, regardless of whose fault it is—or

answer to me. This seems to have been the magic word, for Kirk—now hav-

ing me on his side—is now her equal and ended the evening hiding under

her bed during nightly chats and asking to sleep with her on Saturday.

Such new-found friendship!

. . .

I’m written out tonight. Wrote a Christmas letter today to be mimeo-

graphed and the literary effort took two hours to condense to one page.

I could have used your talent in that line. Also, spent the whole morning

cleaning the filters and when I clean filters, I clean filters!

Mimeograph refers to a duplicating machine used to make copies by pressing ink through

the holes of a stencil and onto sheets of paper. Originally patented by Thomas Jefferson

in 1876, this advanced technology for the time would eventually be replaced in the 1960s

and 1970s by photocopying.

Chapter Three

———

I wasn’t too happy to hear that you got other packages but not mine.

Golly bum. But Mom was most pleased.

Glad you didn’t lose your job to someone else. It sounds challenging

even if the flight time is every other day. You need a day to recoup from

a 0530 hop as it is.

. . .

Kirk told Don he wants a “poocher” for Christmas. That’s a plain old

pooch (dog) in our language. He is still without a doubt the funniest little

boy, with a marvelous sense of humor. He told Don he wants a new uncle

for Christmas. And added quickly “That’s a joke, Uncle Don.” . . .

Are we really 17,220 kilometers away from each other? Hardly seems

possible. I get more pure Ray Stice—the sweet one that is—at this distance

than I do at five feet. Won’t it be ghastly when we’re face to face again!

Unless, of course, you change; I’m perfect. I was pleased to read about the

NUT who leaves his wife. Now, that’s the kind of change I like. . . .

Bonsoir, mon ami,

Gig

K . L

Saturday night at 2100

3 December 1966

Hi Darling,

You sure didn’t get a letter last night, did you? I hate to skip two days like

that, but you never know how things are going turn out until it’s all over

and then it’s too late to worry about it.

Out of the Wuertz K. Smith atmosphere, old Ray Pendergraft is one

hell of a nice guy. He’s just getting settled in our hut.

Screening, yes, it came last week or 10 days ago all by itself. But the

alarm clock, no.

. . .

Well, it sounds like you just about did yourself in on Thanksgiving

and with little or no help. Did you get some pictures?

. . .

The movie camera is really simple. All you have to compute is the

linear opening. Maybe f/8 for average day, f/11 for a bright day, maybe

December 1966

———

f/5.6 in light shade, f/4 in heavy shade.

Only buy outdoor color film and

keep it simple. . . . Only one thing on the film—buy STANDARD 8 mm,

never super 8.

Please do take movies. I’ll only shoot you if you don’t!

Would you believe it’s been raining for a week! And last night, I near-

ly froze in only a sheet. Tonight, I’m going to use a blanket! I have a good

cold coming on—got the blearies and the bloozies.

. . .

Still looks like I’ll go to Kadena this Tuesday (6 December). It could

take several days to get back though. It is harder than hell sometimes if we

end up hitchhiking. But I got some green today, and I’ll hit that PX first

chance I get.

Goodnight, Sweetheart. Getting sort of lonesome, you know.

I love you, Honey,

Ray

K . L

Saturday night

4 December 1966

Hello Darling Sweet,

Oh, it’s so good to write you. I’ve been waiting three whole days for a

moment alone with you in thought. The weekend just slurped me up like

a tornado. Saturday was sort of slow for me but busy for the kids. Mother

took the girls to Sears to shop for—I suspect—a housecoat for me and a

sweater for Kathy. While Don took Kirk to Kiddie City!

. . .

Sunday morning found us all being pleasantly lazy reading the paper

late and loafing over a long nostalgic article about “The Middle-Aged Li-

ons”—stories about vets of World War II.

The kids had friends over too.

These two apertures—f/8 and f/11—are essentially the Goldilocks of aperture values: not

too hot, not too cold, but just right. They provide a middle option to balance a reasonably

wide depth of field with a reasonable shutter speed.

This may refer to Saul Pett and Jules Loh, “The Middle-Aged Lions: More War . . . then

Peace,” Associated Press, 6 December 1966.

Chapter Three

———

. . .

I didn’t mean to write all of this news at the last, but it of course

just happened tonight, and I don’t think it’s really sunk in yet. Milly just

hasn’t been writing me for a month and I didn’t realize how Lucile’s con-

dition had changed. I told Milly that you had been recommended for an

Air Medal, and this will be something nice for her to tell Lucile. . . .

Well, darling, I’m like a bottled-up dam spilling over tonight. No, you

don’t have to write me every day for my morale, but I think I have to write

you! That’s what irks me about December. It will be so busy that it may cut

my letter writing down, and that makes me more frustrated than anything.

Too much to tell each other. Speaking of you, yes, I was shocked mildly

(grin) by your dinner of 4–5 beers, after an 18-hour day. That’s playing

or working it pretty close, meaning the beers might have shown and that

wouldn’t be too good, now would it? Especially when I’m not there to

drive you home. Seriously, Honey, that’s not good pilot care and you’ve

got five—count them—good reasons for good pilot care. Besides, if I can

be a saint you can be a saint or it isn’t fair. And just because you’re out of

Coffee Mate is no reason.

Enough, enough, I’m satisfied. Gee, I’ll be glad when January comes.

I love you, root rot and all. . . .

Gig

K . L

Monday night

5 December 1966

Hi Dear,

After yesterday’s long letter, there’s not much left for today except an

amusing story about Kirk at the dime store.

. . .

Home again. Dinner, baths, Karen’s homework drags until 2030 and

Robin gets in fights with Kirk. Kathy cries. And, guess what? Every single

one gets a spanking. Karen’s first in six months. Robin’s first for the day.

Stice was awarded his first Air Medal in December 1966. MABS- 13, Command Chronol-

ogy (ComdC) December 1966, Box __, Folder 077, 1201077119, U.S. Marine Corps His-

tory Division Vietnam War Documents Collection, Vietnam Center and Sam Johnson

Vietnam Archive, Texas Tech University.

December 1966

———

. . . All go to bed happy deciding, bad as it was, one swat from you would

have been worse. . . .

Mother finally says she will babysit for me tomorrow while I go Christ-

mas shopping—all day if necessary! So, I’ll fold up shop tonight and qui-

etly go to bed. Weather is 60–80 degrees again. It’ll be great to have a day

off. First one in 11 years. I feel so strange when I’m all alone shopping.

Do wish you were here. We could go to Marie Antoinette again!

That’s a

joke, Dad.

I just glanced at our old year, and it was a rough one, you know?

Urinary tract infections, flu, ear aches, tonsillitis, measles, colds, heart

attacks, dental appointments, plus moving, traveling, and leave taking. It’s

been positively peaceful for two months now with no sickness at all. Oh, I

do hope it lasts. Their [the children’s] health really seems to have taken a

turn for the better. They are all thriving. So much for us, Pa. Oh yes, first

volume of The World Book Encyclopedia came—the atlas. Very big. It even

has star charts and both sides of the world, or something. How about

that? Want to test me? Chu Lai is not on the map though. Must be new.

P.S. O’Malley—Marine corporal gets Medal of Honor here in Austin

tomorrow for action “near Chu Lai.”

XXXs,

Gig

K . L

7 December 1966

Hi Darling,

Well, it looks like we shopped on the same day. Perhaps that was why I was

disoriented too! I shopped for frequent cups of coffee, hauled out lists,

went off and left packages, and my feet hurt. What did you do?

. . .

I was glad to see a letter for me today too, though amazed to hear

about the package. It honestly sounds like the clock got stolen, as I think

it was in that package. Can you complain to someone? . . .

She may have been referencing Marie Antoinette, directed by W. S. Van Dyke and Julien

Duvivier (Beverly Hills, CA: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, 1938).

“Vietnam War—U.S. Marine Corps: Robert Emmett O’Malley,” Congressional Medal of

Honor Society, accessed 28 March 2023.

Chapter Three

———

. . .

Yes, it does sound like the commanding officer is a bit jealous of your

flying, but that’s not serious either. You know what you have to do. Per-

haps he just needs a ground assistant when you’re airborne.

. . .

The girls were very good yesterday. I guess the spankings paid off.

Robin cleared the table last night and Karen helped get out some Christ-

mas ornaments. I found an old pair of your galoshes—boot type—do you

want them? Kathy loves to look at your clothes incidentally. They really

seem to remind her of Dad! Christmas just sneaked in the back door. The

kids made sure of that. Kirk woke me up this morning saying he needs a

beard for a costume. He has one line to say and will wear his suit, as he is

a customer talking to the elves. Must get going.

Sweet thoughts and kisses to you. I look at my map of Vietnam every

night and think of you. That’s a big world over there.

Gig

K . L

8 December 1966

Hi Sweetheart,

Gosh almighty, I had to mail my last letter to you in with all the Christmas

cards at the post office as they’ve closed the ordinary drop in the windows

and, now, I wonder if you’ll be delayed getting them because of the crush.

I hope not.

. . .

Kirks pictures of you got developed and it sure was nice to see them.

He doesn’t want to give up the originals (shades of you), but I think I’ll

mail them anyway. . . .

Just got word that I have to help at the school Christmas party (third,

fourth, and fifth) grades as Luci Johnson Nugent has been invited and

may come!

And the Waiting Wives meet Monday at the USO, plus the

Armed Forces Wives on Wednesday, and I think I may just stay in bed.

. . .

Ah women! We must need some MEN around, especially ONE MAN.

Gig is referring to President Lyndon B. Johnson’s daughter who married a national

guardsman, Patrick L. Nugent, in August 1966.

December 1966

———

Must go get the pictures now and maybe I can include them in this.

Mom’s pictures, despite her fancy camera, were lousy. So, hang on.

XXXs,

Gig

K . L

Late, more like 0100, 10 December

9 December 1966

Hello Angel,

I’m writing this one in bed under the old purple quilt, all sweet and clean,

as you used to say and it’s a nice way to write you.

I’m feeling more “friendly” toward you tonight than last night, be-

cause last night, while looking for old Christmas cards I found instead old

pictures of old girlfriends and got such a case of jealousy that I couldn’t

write you or do Christmas cards. Oh, oh, oh!

But, a letter came today, the second for the week, and other than the

fact that I got miffed again over the screening that you didn’t even rave

about and got 10 days ago before you remembered to mention it, well you

made zero points this week, Sir, and I may not invite you to bed with me.

I might even throw a shoe at you.

But, you redeemed yourself by saying you were lonesome—getting sort

of, that is—so I melted a little on the edges and you may stick a toe over,

but that’s about all. Make that a leg with hair on it. And on top of that,

you have to say I LOVE YOU and mean it. I’m not at all easy to convince

tonight.

However, since you didn’t get in the doghouse on purpose—only by

chance—I’ll let you out briefly. It’s a bit difficult to leave a rip-roaring

scene on paper.

. . .

The pictures must have gotten exposed when the camera was fixed.

But wasn’t the one adorable? . . . Thanks for all the long-distance advice,

Darling. You really do try. Oh, the man, after setting it, said your guide

pasted on back was a good one. I said, yes, my husband did that. Just don’t

hold your breath for any of my pictures!

. . .

At least there are some nice things in December—people. The very

things that bother the most sometimes please the most.

Chapter Three

———

Oh, Honey Bunch, this hasn’t been a very good letter, has it? (I’ll take

two legs with hair now.) . . . I hope the rain has stopped. Now, there’s a

serious matter. And now, I’m ready to turn the light out and forgive you.

(I’ve got ways, you know.) Ways and ways and ways, starting here with

XXXXXXXs and ending with XXXXXXXs.

Gig

K . L

Sunday night

11 December 1966

Hello Darling,

Forgive the grease spots. I’ve got Vaseline on my hands due to the cold

weather now. My crazy brothers were after your address today at the same

time. It was quite funny. Don had called to see if I wanted him to take

the kids to see Bambi and I said no—it’s too cold and they have colds.

he decided he’d write Christmas cards and asked for your address. Just as

I was giving it, the operator said, “I have to interrupt for an emergency

call from Houston.” It was Sandy and the emergency was the post office

deadline for packages overseas was today and he needed your address. . . .

In my surprise, I think I said MAG-13, so I hope it reaches you!

Everyone is sending you things . . . now so you’d better get a secretary

to answer your mail. They really don’t expect answers, Sweet, so don’t

sweat it really. Everyone really does miss you though, and I know how

they feel!

. . .

Otherwise, all is fine. I sure hope you got a little breather at Okinawa.

Glad there is a spot you can go to once in a while like that. It does seem

strange that you still need all those yearly checkouts, even over there. But

I’m glad if it gives you a moment to shop just for the fun of it.

I’m not sending you a wrapped Christmas present per se, as every

month is Christmas for you, meaning I hope I can send you at least one

a month and I’ll let the others take this month! Is that, okay? It’s really

not Christmas for me without you anyway, but by darn, I’ve got to make a

prefabricated one for the kids in the next two weeks. And if I’m going to

make the Waiting Wives scene at the Red Cross tomorrow, I’d best go to

Bambi, directed by David Hand (Burbank, CA: Walt Disney Productions, 1942).

December 1966

———

bed. Wonder what a good waiting wife is supposed to look like? Grimm’s

the word. Grimm’s Fairy Tales that’s me.

All stockings have runs, and the

dear old hair dryer gave out sparks the other day. I closed my eyes and

threw it away. There goes my hair. In January, I’ll splurge on a good one.

Okay, Pa?

Goodnight, Love Dove, all the children liked your notes. I read them

at dinner, and they really feel very secure that you care. No sweat there.

Take care of that cold coming on. Must be the time of year. Oh yes, Don

was very impressed by our new atlas. I really think it was a good buy.

That’s our family Christmas present!

I love you dearly.

Gig

K . L

Monday evening

12 December 1966

Hi Darling,

The Christmas mail load really has fouled us up. I haven’t had a letter in

five days, although I did get Mom’s Christmas package mailed 21 Novem-

ber. Still missing her first one and your first big one with the clock. The

trouble with the electric clock is obvious. They lose power several times

during the day and night. My travel clock isn’t loud or long enough, and

usually it goes off just as some aircraft is taking off and just can’t be heard.

Just looked across to the main road and I couldn’t believe my eyes.

Some civilian car (1960 Chevy two-door) just cruising down the road.

Must be the only one in captivity.

Oh boy, I wish I had the drink that should go with this hangover

I’ve had for the last two days. It must be a cold or flu virus: rundown,

lightheaded, coughing, and dripping. The doctor gave me some pills etc.,

but it’s sure slow coming around. I’m going right to bed after this letter

—1930 or bust!

Right beside an air station in combat is no damn place for a rock

Francis Jenkins Olcott, ed., Grimm’s Fairy Tales (Philadelphia, PA: Penn Publishing, 1927).

Chevrolet had several 1960 models out that year that Stice could have seen: Corvair

Monza, Corvette Roadster, Bel Air, Biscayne, El Camino, Impala, or Suburban.

Chapter Three

———

100

quarry and we have three!

It sounds like incoming. We’re right be-

tween two runways—banging and banging—after burners banging. The

McDonnell-Douglas F-4 Phantom II has two you know. Sometimes in

the middle of the night, it damn near throws you out of bed! In the day-

time, all eyeballs automatically pop to the source of the bang spot! Like a

360-degree ping pong game! And recently, we added a new touch to the

continuous noise injector (CNI) aboard ship—the aircraft launch catapults

are powered by steam, so our SATS CATS, you guessed it, with two big

jet engines going full blast—well, just try and get away from that Charlie!

How about a JATO cocktail at 0330.

Those are big rockets, though I

guess you’ve never heard a real rocket. It’s like artillery that just continues

and never stops until the bottle is shot and blown—not merely released, it

has to be blown off. All the Douglas A-4 Skyhawks use JATO at night. In

Okinawa, I stuck cigarette filters in my ears, but that wasn’t satisfactory.

My administrative officer walks around all day with Mickey Mouse ears

on (aircraft carrier deck noise suppressor ear covers), so I had to make

him move his desk in from the outer office so I could catch his attention

visually. I should be really good at charades after this! The pilots revert to

finger talk, lip reading, and ear grabbing, but the ground officers and the

troops just shut up.

. . .

We’ve darn near reached the back side of the Christmas curve. . . .

I can imagine the snow of Nebraska and the pure solace of Texas, I can

For more on quarries in the country, see LtGen Carroll H. Dunn, Base Development in

South Vietnam, 1965–1970, Vietnam Studies (Washington, DC: Department of the Army,

1991).

Stice was being sarcastic about the continuous noise that interrupted his sleep, which

he called CNI. His bunk sat between two runways, so it must have been difficult to sleep.

For example, according to the MABS-13, ComdC May 1967, there were 24,566 takeoffs

or landings from both the east and west runways of Chu Lai. SATS refers to short airfield

for tactical support, which was an expeditionary airfield field system that could be laid

on flat terrain and create runways and taxiway suitable for jet aircraft. CATS likely refers

to a ground-based catapult system similar to that used on an aircraft carrier as part of the

SATS system.

JATO refers to jet-assisted take-off. It is a misnomer as it really means a rocket-assisted

take-off with a disposable or reusable canister affixed to an aircraft fuselage. It provided

additional thrust for heavy aircraft operating on short runways. These rockets were no lon-

ger manufactured for military use after the Vietnam War. For more on Marine Corps use,

see Donald J. Mrozek, Air Power and the Ground War in Vietnam: Ideas and Actions (Maxwell

Air Force Base, AL: Air University Press, 1988), 148.

December 1966

———

101

darn near imagine the soft Christmas carols, and this year, you all can

walk to the nativity scene. I hope one of the kids will put out a cup of cof-

fee, a clean cigarette, and a brownie for old Santa Claus before he comes

around and inspects all the trees and gifts.

Good night, Gig.

Love you,

Ray

K . L

Monday night

12 December 1966

Hi Sweetheart,

You’re on a trip. I can feel it in my empty mailbox. I’ll sure be glad when

you get back! Pretty dull without you.

I was sure a lady of leisure today. Kathy’s cold was still drippy, so I

decided not to go to the Waiting Wives coffee and spent the morning

Figure 19. Aerial view of the U.S. Marine Corps Short Airfield for Tacti-

cal Support (SATS) Chu Lai, South Vietnam

Several Douglas A-4 Skyhawk aircraft from Marine Air Group 12 are vis-

ible in the foreground.

Source: official U.S. Marine Corps photo A701478.

Chapter Three

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102

with her instead. Then met Mother for lunch with her friend and daugh-

ter while Kathy napped with Molly, the sitter here. Got all that? Lousy

sentence. . . .

Home again, I found the dictionary had arrived and Robin was

overjoyed. She sat right down and did her homework with it. Books are

collecting now and 20 more to come. No bookshelf! We’ll have books

coming out of our ears. Help! I’ll be able to give you the annual rainfall

in Vietnam maybe, who knows. But it sounds like you’ve already got it!

Read Life magazine—see, I really was lazy today, . . . And the story

of the USS Oriskany fire made me give the kids a fire lecture tonight by

Christmas candlelight.

They loved the latter. My, what a story. I cried, of

course. There just seem to be so many brave war stories. Another one in

the paper tonight out of Approach about the A-4 pilot who landed his air-

plane with his left hand after his right arm got blown off, elbow on down.

He ejected too. I guess you’ll be getting that if Approach is over there.

I know you have so much to read, poor Darling, that’s probably why

you long for Playboy. Have no fear, the Christmas issue is on its way to you.

. . .

I’ll feel like back to normal again when this month is over. Good-

night, darling, sweet, angel, hairy man. Gosh, I found myself wishing you

could call me from Okinawa. I can still hear the sound of your voice from

Dallas saying, “That’s affirm!”

XXXs,

Gig

K . L

Tuesday night

13 December 1966

Hi again,

I’m talking to myself this week. I can see it now. There will be five letters

from me all stacked up for you on your return. That’s Gig in a gulp. Speak-

ing of “Gig”—the name that is—my sweet son says he’ll name his child

after me. Gulp. We were talking about names at dinner because Mom

“Carrier’s Agony, Hell Afloat: Oriskany Fire,” Life Magazine, 25 November 1966.

Gig is likely referring to the December 1966 issue of the Naval and Marine Aviation

Safety magazine, Approach.

December 1966

———

103

got a family history of the Austin’s in the mail from her cousin and I am

descended from a Tory named Austin, who fought on the Tory side in the

Revolutionary War and fled to Canada afterward. He married a Scottish

girl named Catherine Sinclair. So, we really should change Kathy’s name

to Cathy Sinclair. At least I feel better about her name now. They had two

sons, one of whom came to Texas and may have been a grandfather to

Stephen F. Austin—a Moses Austin.

Interesting? We must get the Stice

history again too. Karen was thrilled as she is studying the Revolutionary

War now.

. . .

Weather is nice and chilly and a good excuse to have the oven on. We

also “made” a candle tonight. Not too great, but the kids are so compli-

mentary of all my creative attempts. So far, we’ve tried sequins, candles,

Christmas letters, and tomorrow Christmas cookies. I still haven’t gotten

the kids their toys yet. The prices at Kiddie City turned me pale.

We’ll

try Shopper’s World first!

This will have to do as a letter, which was obviously written in the

dark waiting for your return from Okinawa. I keep wondering which one

of my letters will hit nearest to your Christmas. Probably one written on

17 December, so let’s make a very merry toast to each other on the 17th.

This is your very married wife saying, “Over.”

XXXs,

Gig

K . L

Wednesday night

14 December 1966

Hi Darling,

Your stories about the kids are really cute. This is a heck of an age to be

missing. I sure hope you can run them outside and catch some movies

once and awhile so I can catch up on this year. You know what happened

the last time—nothing to show for it (movie wise).

Moses Austin was an American pioneer and businessman born in Connecticut on 4 Oc-

tober 1793. He and his wife Mary Brown had four children, including Stephen F. Austin.

Lionel Kiddie City was an American toy store founded in 1960 and defunct by 1982.

Shopper’s World was a discount department store founded in Chicago in 1962, with 14

chain locations across the country.

Chapter Three

———

104

FINALLY got airborne again this afternoon. Damn near 10 days now

with Okinawa, that darn virus, and one no-radio bum start yesterday. My

cold is getting better now slowly, and I slept long and deep the last couple

of nights. So that helped.

Raining again and I had to shoot a TACAN/GCA (tactical air naviga-

tion/ground-controlled approach) when the hook wouldn’t come down,

so go around and do it again—okay.

The commanding general of 1st MAW says, “Thou shall have a sump-

tuous and bountiful Christmas dinner.” Menus that came out by mes-

sage—clear for Charlie, or encrypted, I’m not sure—look great, even better

than my birthday and Thanksgiving.

Yesterday, I was in the group S-3’s office and asked Lieutenant Col-

onel Richard L. Robinson about the possibility of going to Japan with

Marine Fighter Attack Squadron 115 (VMFA-115) in January or February

for the F-4 check out and he said, “Why not, want one.” I went in to see

“Friendly Freddy” and the MAG executive officer came out and offered,

“Make it VMFA-323 in May.” I almost had a heart attack. I couldn’t be-

lieve it. . . . After all this time and that bum’s rush at Quantico from the

Commandant of the Marine Corps, I finally learned how to toot my own

horn. He asked me how Colonel Owens felt about it. I had to be hon-

est there. He was sympathetic originally with the notion of eventual F-4

checkout, but he sure hadn’t said yea or nay and probably never would.

He understood. So, I hit the S-1 Lieutenant Colonel Harry D. Stott with

it, so the idea would be implanted. Now I’ll just wait it out. Really now,

it will be just perfect to spend about six months as the executive officer

of MABS, then two months in Japan, and then five months in an F-4

squadron. Isn’t that just beautiful? Seeing is believing, but it sure is nice

to think about.

. . .

Regarding maps: you should know that I CORPS, Chu Lai, Da Nang,

Hue, Phu Bai, Dung Ha, the DMZ, that’s our stomping grounds for the

next four and a half months, at least since I got here—up, down, and all

around.

TACAN refers to a system of navigation using high-frequency signals to determine the

distance and bearing of an aircraft from a transmitting station; GCA refers to when a

ground-based observer monitors the descent angle and course of an aircraft using radar,

which allows pilots to land during adverse weather.

December 1966

———

105

Figure 20. Military areas of responsibility during the war

Source: Marine Corps University Press.

Chapter Three

———

106

Time to, yeah, eat and sleep, getting dark in the dank.

Regarding my last letter: the wing came out today with a noise-level

damage investigation message today.

See, it’s not all me!

Except that part that loves you!

Ray

K . L

Wednesday night

14 December 1966

Hello Santa Claus,

Your reindeer drove up today with a huge package for us and even the post-

man smiled when the kids said, “It’s from Daddy!” We were all stunned

and have been sniffing around it all afternoon, but we haven’t opened

it in case something is loose (unwrapped). What I discovered though,

and called all the kids to see, was the $1 stamps on the outside—all 14 of

them. Good grief, Charlie Brown, I never saw a $1 stamp before in my

life, much less 14 of them. Oh, you noble soul. And from the man who

times three-minute phone calls with a timer! Sweetheart, what am I going

to do with you? You are a nut, but I hope you had a good time. That’s the

main thing.

It really was a big surprise to get it so soon and made me feel better

that you had gotten there and managed to have a few minutes off, because

I haven’t heard a word all week. But the package said five days’ worth

almost! “It’s beginning to feel a lot like Christmas.” Here, I agonize over little

things, and you manage to do 20 at once—like fight a war, run a squadron,

fly miles to shop, pack, take tests, shop, mail, wrap, and spoil four kids

and me. I won’t say you are too much, but you are! . . .

It’s getting toward midnight again here and I’ve got to go see Kirk in

the Shoemaker and the Elves tomorrow.

. . . It’s, ugh, wintertime, ugh. Rob-

in had her play today (Scrooge etc.), but I missed that one. Made cookies

Stice may be referring to a military study on the impact of extreme noise on hearing

within the military community. For more on the topic, see “Noise and Noise-Induced

Hearing Loss in the Military,” in Noise and Military Service: Implications for Hearing Loss and

Tinnitus (Washington, DC: National Academies Press, 2006), chap. 3.

Gig is likely referring to a school adaptation of “The Elves and the Shoemaker” in M.

Edwardes and E. Taylor, trans., Grimm’s Fairy Tales (New York: Maynard, Merrill, 1905).

December 1966

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107

all day and accomplished nothing else. The first batch turned into molas-

ses cakes. They didn’t look like cookies at all. Oh well, hell. Tomorrow,

I’ll bake another batch.

So, goodnight, Love. Thank you for the big box. How can I stand it

to wait until Christmas?

XXXs, Gig in bed

. . .

Gig

K . L

Friday night

16 December 1966

Hi Sweetheart,

Yes, your letters have been delayed by all the Christmas load, but don’t

worry about it, just keep up that wonderful writing!

This so-called picture was taken this afternoon. Is that current

enough? That’s the front of our palace—hut, that is—still half boarded up

from the monsoons and typhoons. Those sandbags are our bunker from

mortars. They were supposed to hit us last night, but they never did. Any-

way, everyone is armed all the time, of course, that’s a .38 revolver here,

and on the right are two trash cans. . . Thought it was a good picture at

first, now it just looks scroungy. As I was saying, notice that good looking

Marine standing there? . . .

Honey, I’m too tired to finish. We were up most of last night. I set up

Mom’s Christmas tree this afternoon and it looks really pretty.

Goodnight, Darling.

I really love you, Honey. . .

Ray

K . L

Saturday morning

17 December 1966

Hi Darling,

I’m sitting outside watching Kathy swing. The weather is so beautiful it

hurts—a blue sky without a cloud in it, sunshine, and just a tiny bit crisp

and cool. The kids have gone to get air in their bike tires. Kathy wanted

Chapter Three

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108

to go—she rides behind Robin now—but she’s happy swinging now. Every-

one is well or just about. . . .

I feel unusually good as I collapsed on the couch after taking an as-

pirin at 2100 last night and slept until 0200! Got up, did the dishes, and

went to bed until 0900 this morning. Great!

. . .

I got your nice long letter yesterday describing your hectic trip and

the funny incident at the colonel’s hut. It at least made a cute story to

tell in a Christmas letter to Myrtle and one to Milly, adding of course

that the septic tank was empty fortunately! I could hear you swearing way

over here—oh shit—and then having to regain your composure to go back

in and ask for a flashlight. Life is full of pit falls—ah, prat falls that is. Of

course, I hope you didn’t get banged up (dunged up?) too much.

The planes are flying over a lot today, but peaceful like, that is. The

droning Sunday sound. Bergstrom is expanding—your type of aircraft—

and I find myself vaguely wishing you were Air Force.

. . .

So glad to hear you got a camera. That will be grand when you come

home to show us. “When you come home” are lovely words, aren’t they?

Sweetie, you really are so lucky. There was a story in the paper today about

a Green Beret orphan soldier, answering a Christmas card for a buddy

who got killed, to a nurse here in Austin. I felt like adopting him myself!

Would you like to be a “father” to a young soldier or is being a father to a

runny-nosed redhead enough for you?

Well, Darling, it really is time to say Merry Christmas to you. I prom-

ised to do so on the 17th. But I’d rather say Happy New Year. That one

I really like. I have a date with you in 1967 to finish a cup of coffee at the

Austin airport. And a half-completed kiss to finish with no one around

to watch. But in the meantime, back to the Christmas tree. Karen said

this morning, “Mother, it really is time to do something about Christ-

mas!” Father, help! That’s your department. The kids are already saying,

“See, Mom, we can open Dad’s present box now cause he said they are

wrapped.”

Looks like I have some jobs to do, so off with me head.

Bye for now, Darling.

I love you,

Gig

December 1966

———

109

K . L

Saturday night

17 December 1966

Hello Mrs. Sex Pot,

I think I’ll outline that one in red and mark it “Special Handling Re-

quired” and “Need to Know Only.” . . . that helps the old morale better

than a thousand Christmas presents and a popcorn popper—well, almost.

(I’m really a popaholic in disguise!) One of you (you or Mom, not both)

ought to make the year bearable and send me a simple electric popcorn

popper. Ours is being transferred to Da Nang shortly. Plus, a big can of

popcorn.

Today, I had one of the best hops ever. We were scheduled to recon

the DMZ with two aircraft and only one was up. So, Dick Douglas—the

one that got all my goodies in Japan—and I headed out anyway and, of

course, asked for a secondary (alternate mission). So, we contorted Joe

Blow on chartreuse, and they said, “Negs, go back TAN for an emergency

strike.”

After many channel changes we finally got our forward air controller

(FAC). One of our companies was pinned down outside this Viet Cong

village and catching hell from real intense fire of all sorts, so a little as-

sistance was in order. They were throwing everything but the sink up at

the Cessna O-1 Bird Dog and he didn’t like that either. So, we pumped

everything we had right when he wanted it until we had “Neg Austin’s”—

thought you’d like that.

Made a few more passes to keep them down

until we got relieved by two Vought F-8 Crusaders, two Douglas A-4 Sky-

hawks, and two McDonnell Douglas F-4 Phantom IIs finally. Ye old Bird

Dog has fairly husky big brothers. Total time to clocks 1.0, and that in-

cluded snooping around another “possible” area to boot.

We don’t get

these real honest close-air support hops in the Grumman F-9 Cougar—

only rarely—but it sure feels good after all these years of eating, drinking,

Chartreuse is a French herbal liqueur known for its unusual yellow-green color that was

so distinctive the color and the drink’s name are now synonymous. TAN refers to tactical

air network, which was a network of frequencies for radio communications.

Austin is likely Stice’s call sign.

Stice is likely referencing Hobbs time, which refers to the time from when the aircraft

engine starts to when the engine stops and it is measured in hours and tenths of hours;

for example, 1.0 refers to one hour.

Chapter Three

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110

and sleeping this stuff. I should get a lot more of it if I get in VMFA-323

in May. A good hop. Steak tonight so that’s appropriate I’d say.

And what did the poor overworked mailman bring today? Two letters

from you and a big box from Kirkpatrick’s of Houston, a card from Hazel

(DC), and a card from Shrewd Trude (That’s not a very flattering identifi-

er is it? Pris can use that one). . . .

I hate to think of you all nice and clean in that big soft bed all by

your lonesome! This is why Marines are so good at prior planning, look-

ing ahead. Hell, we’re all forced into it. How about all the hairy legs at

ONCE? Hey, you want to be shocked? Right next to where I grabbed my

camera, they had . . . “Baby Dolls” with all the lace in the right places, I

guess. I’m sorry, I’ll get you some next time! I promise!

Yes, I love you,

Ray

K . L

Monday

19 December 1966

Dear Heart,

So nice to get your “noisy” letter today. It’s a good thing I can “talk” to

you on paper, I guess. It sounds quite unbearable there, and I found

myself wondering how YOU can stand it without Mickey Mouse ears or

filter tip plugs. What are you putting in your ears? Now I’m shouting on

paper!

Well, close your eyes and imagine a house so quiet you can hear your

thoughts, with only the soft sound of cars crunching buy. . . . My, I’m

impressed that you remembered where we went to see the manger scene.

Yes, you’re right. We could almost walk there this year. But probably won’t!

. . .

I bought you another clock today at the dime store. Same clerk and

she remembered I bought the other one two months ago. I thought you’d

get one in Okinawa, but since you didn’t, I’ll get this one off to you air

mail tomorrow, I hope!

Tomorrow is going to be put up tree day, so it may be hectic. We’re

also in the throes of wrapping—or is it the WOES?

. . .

The German Luftwaffe was on TV tonight. They fly Lockheed F-104

Starfighters and have lost 37 pilots due to not knowing how to fly or

December 1966

———

111

maintain them.

I thought that might interest you as you talked about

that once. They summed it up as “too much too soon” (i.e., trying to

jump into the jet age without the knowledge). Well, it is sad they didn’t

know how hard it is to fly them before they lost so many men. They have

some technical representatives (Americans) to help them now and are

still “deeply committed to all weather flying.”

That’s sort of a jumbled

account of what I heard on TV, but you know the story, I’m sure. Stories

like that, however, verify to me that you know what you’re talking about.

Where was I? Hiding from the job of wrapping presents, that’s where

I am. Oh yes, and mad that you are so behind on getting my letters.

. . . You’ve been gone four months: September, October, November, and

December. . . . Kirk says, “How many years has Daddy been gone now,

Mom?” Oh, that’s one for you. His idea of time and numbers is so con-

fused that it’s really funny. While buying his presents (he picked them), he

said, “That’s okay, Mom, I’ll forget by next week.” True, true.

. . .

Robin and Kirk went over to help put up lights at Mom’s house.

Don tried to nail them to the door, but Mom said, “We have to open it

you know.” He got them up, but sent Robin inside to do woman’s work.

She retaliated by stomping on his foot. Don is learning all sorts of things!

Crunch. Karen and Robin made apricot cakes for their teachers. They

really have been busy as little beavers. All are well from their colds. I hope

you are over yours. Take your medicine. Glad you had the good sense to

go to the doctor. That’s a good boy, man, husband, lover, etc.

Golly bum, I’ve got to do it. Face Christmas week starting NOW. Why

is it that my conscience niggles me when I wrap one upside down? . . .

Gig

K . L

20 December 1966

Hi Sweetheart,

. . . I took my movie camera out yesterday and shot some F-4s and A-4s on

See Steven Esser and Hans-Joachim K. Ruff-Stahl, “An HFACS Analysis of German

F-104 Starfighter Accidents,” Journal of Aviation Technology and Engineering 9, no. 2 (2020):

19–34, https://doi.org/10.7771/2159-6670.1218.

Marshall Michel, “F-104: Germany’s ‘Widow Maker’,” Spangdahlem Air Base, 30 July

2015.

Chapter Three

———

112

a strike mission. I hope it works. I took another one today on a helicopter

escort up at Hue/Phu Bai, but the air was sort of rough. They may not

work. I’ll have to mail them to Hanoi for processing.

This afternoon, I planted trees. Colonel Owens had a bug about get-

ting some tall pine trees for the group adjutant building compound post.

So yesterday, we went out looking. We found two matching coconut palms

that would be fit for a king, but they were full size—big. He still wanted

them regardless. Today, he’s off flying the Lockheed C-130 Hercules, and

when he comes back tomorrow noon, he’ll really have a surprise. We

snaked them both out through the jungle, swamp, broken chains, truck

brakes, and ropes, but there they are. They are really beautiful and quite

rare here at Chu Lai. Wish to hell we could have put them outside our

own hut. There’s one more I found—taller and more crooked—but maybe

we can get it tomorrow (to keep).

. . .

Heard some more good news about VMFA-323 this summer. The

group S-3 (operations) was writing a letter to the wing asking that myself

and one of the group captains be transferred to VMFA-323 just prior to

their departure to Iwakuni, Japan.

I guess I didn’t ask too soon—five and a half months away yet. The

irony of the situation? The hut I was living in and got kicked out of by

their skipper? Yep, VMFA-323’s Lieutenant Colonel Aubrey W. Talbert—

37 years old—boy wonder—clown of renown and Joe Wuertz, all in one

package.

. . .

I don’t dare talk about your Christmas presents as I’m not sure you

got them yet! Tomorrow’s letter, okay?

Goodnight, Darling, a very, very Merry Christmas. I sure wish I could

be there.

I love you, Gig.

Ray

Hey, children of mine! MERRY CHRISTMAS, Karen and Robin and

Kirk and Kathy! And a HO, HO, HO TO YOU TOO, MOM. I know

you’ll like your presents. Everybody give everybody else a big hug and a

kiss. I sure hope Santa Claus got everything to you in time. It’s a long

way from Vietnam to Austin, but if he refueled over the North Pole, I’ll

December 1966

———

113

bet he got there with my presents. If he’s a couple of days late, don’t be

disappointed. He’ll get there soon enough!

All you sweet kids give your mother a special big love for me, will you?

And she’ll give you a love for me!

Merry Christmas everyone—Merry Christmas!

Love, Dad

P.S. Daddy Claus

K . L

Wednesday night

21 December 1966

Darling,

My thoughts are full of you tonight. I’ve been reading a doctor’s report

on civilian medical care in Vietnam—Project Hope—and besides being

factual, it was very graphic.

I long to be over there helping somebody

somewhere. And yet, I feel so untrained, useless, and of course needed

here. A strange dilemma.

. . .

I got your good letter yesterday regarding Japan “maybe” (one curled

nose, here). I’m glad you’re glad. I am not so glad. But no comment.

You’re the boss. I like you where you are though. Is that possible?

Well, Old Tearjerker, you made me cry with your package. I opened

it to get Sandy and Karen’s present out for the Austin’s to take to Hous-

ton, and that wild purple paper made me laugh and cry at the same time.

The baby paper tore me up a bit too. And so many packages and so well

wrapped. It was YOU all over the place, and I had a good weep. I put a

pretty white ribbon on the purple package and wrote a note about what

you said for them to do: “sit on it and antique it yourself.” I know it will

please them so much.

We put the tree up yesterday, no sweat. Kirk commandeered the tree

holder, saying “That’s the way Daddy did it last year,” and we girls flut-

tered around, saying “You’re right, Kirk.” Mom helped and Milly was

chief decorator, of course!

Kathy got very excited about your stocking. She still remembers you

Ben Stanley, “Soft Power Through Medicine: The Complicated History of Project

Hope,” Rotation, 26 August 2020.

Chapter Three

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114

and even played an imaginary “show off for Dad game” like you were

about to come in. I know that’s hard to believe, but the little thing really

does talk about you too. She goes to your closet, looks at your picture,

points to the sky, and it is quite amazing.

. . .

Tomorrow, Don takes us to see the Yule log at Zilker Park. A new

custom just started. My Christmas fever comes and goes. I tend to start

thinking about you and Vietnam and forget all about it. I do wish you

could have seen Red Skelton’s TV Christmas show though.

He had

some Seabees singing the U.S. Naval Academy song (For those in peril etc.),

and I wept, of course.

Have you ever tried to cry without letting your kids

see you? It’s like landing with no hook. Choke.

Goodnight, Sweetie Pie. Take care.

Gig

K . L

Thursday night

22 December 1966

Hi Darling,

Well, I sure hope you all had a very merry Christmas—of course, I haven’t

had mine at this exact minute. Your letter today finally gave me the news

that you actually have my presents. I was worried about the time of ship-

ment, so that’s why I air mailed them. Your letters take eight days from

your Wednesday night desk to mine (Thursday night). How long do mine

take?

Boy, you’re the gutless wonder of the world, making your brother

send me my Playboy. No guts, I guess. But thank him anyway. I will say that

he played it really cool and put his letter in with Miss Playboy of the month

where I’d be sure to find it—took a while to uncross my eyes—where it was

hidden!

Tell him I damn near missed it!

. . .

The Red Skelton Hour, season 16, episode 14, “Christmas Spirit,” directed by Bill Hobin,

aired 20 December 1966, on CBS.

Gig is likely referring to a British hymn, “Eternal Father, Strong to Save,” long associated

with and adopted by the maritime armed forces.

The Playboy playmate of the month for December 1966 was Sue Bernard, who was be-

lieved to be the first Jewish playmate.

December 1966

———

115

We all got CANKED [canceled] today because of the monsoon rains.

It will probably be this way—with only two more flying days before Christ-

mas—through the 25th.

Tomorrow morning, the colonel is going to present my Air Medal.

That’ll be a nice Christmas present. I’ll send you the photo he usually

has taken (probably next week). One of our photographers is going to be

court-martialed—liked cameras too much. Like you for not sending me a

CASE (not pack, not can, a CASE) of popcorn and a popcorn POPPER.

Got 66 people coming in the next five days and only room for 30 at

the most! And that’s 12 and 14 to a hut like ours. Have to break out the

tents, I guess.

We got a “well done” from the group the other day for making double

wooden bunks to give them 10 times more floor space. Colonel Douglas

D. Petty said, “They should go look at MABS barracks.”

Oh, those palm trees. Man, they really did go over big. The group

commanding officer came in about 1700 after they were all done and was

just pleased as punch.

Hope those young studs sloshing around in the mud on the perimeter

are alert. It’s too rainy to launch the flare ship tonight.

You know, I’ve only flown six missions this month! Man, that’s slow.

Maybe tomorrow.

We’re out of beer for the next three weeks, so have a drink for me,

Dozo.

Goodnight, Honey. I’m too tired to go on tonight. I love you and miss

you. It isn’t much of a Christmas without my family.

Ray

K . L

Friday night

23 December 1966

Darling Sweet,

Thank you for your wonderful, good letters this week. With everybody

asking about you, I’ve been so proud to be able to tell them about your

MABS-13, ComdC December 1966, Box __, Folder 077, 1201077119, U.S. Marine

Corps History Division Vietnam War Documents Collection, Vietnam Center and Sam

Johnson Vietnam Archive, Texas Tech University.

Chapter Three

———

116

first battle mission with eight airplanes coming to your rescue after an

hour of flying it alone. Loved that comment about “ye old birddog has

some fairly husky big brothers.” I know you were thrilled to be there when

you were needed the most—Austin?! Was that your call sign? Well, it was

quite a hop indeed, and I’m awfully glad you got back safe and sound.

Scares me to pieces to think of flak coming at you though. That’s nev-

er happened before. Do you suppose I’ll get battle hardened? I honestly

don’t think I ever will, but I can talk about it matter-of-factly by repeating

your calm cool words. Anyway, it was very good to get those letters this

week and the simply great picture! I loved it. You even look like you’ve

gained some weight, even Karen noticed that. This picture is much more

vivid than the other and a better likeness too as it shows the hut and area.

Karen said it looked like Virginia, and it’s even a cute one of you. I mean

you really do look kind of gung ho handsome. I thought the sling was a

camera until I read your letter. You look fine and that’s the main thing.

Figure 21. Christmas with Grandma Milly Stice (Ray’s mother as Santa),

Karen, Robin, and Kirk

Source: Stice family collection.

December 1966

———

117

. . .

Tomorrow, Mary Jane McNeil Hurlbert brings her kids over and, in

the evening, Don and Mom will come for dinner and to unwrap presents.

Sunday, we all go to Mom’s for dinner. The house looks pretty with the

tree up. Kirk’s flash bulbs didn’t go off and he’s very mad. Plus, my eye-

sight! I cranked to four with him yelling and screaming until I discovered

he was right. Poor little lamb. His first roll of film too. He is so like you

sometimes it is funny! “Up a little, UP a little, UP A LITTLE!”

I said, “Oh, we forgot to rub the carbon off the flash bulb, Kirk.”

So, I rubbed it on my red coat, and he just muttered, “Look at your coat,

Mom.” Sure enough, black all over it. He decided I was hopeless. He

bought the flash bulbs with his money too, and now said he’s going to

take them all back. Whoee!

Karen said, “Santa” is going up in his price—coffee, cigarettes, and

brownies too! Last year, it was only milk and cookies. I’ll say your price

has gone up too. Scarborough’s doesn’t carry popcorn poppers for corny

people. Darling, you’ll have to wait till after Christmas or find that last case

I sent you two months ago! Check at the post office again.

Glad you liked my sexy letter. Better than the kitchen ones, I guess.

I’m no Playgirl remember, but what’s there is warm and soft and made for

you if you convince me that it’s me you want. That sounds more selfish

than I mean it to be. This one is being written in the kitchen. Midnight

too. So, off to the scene of the crime.

Take care, dear, and we’ll discuss this in depth some time. You really

are my perfect angel, and I haven’t even opened your Christmas present

yet. Must be LOVE.

Gig

K . L

Christmas Eve

24 December 1966

Merry Christmas, Darling,

Sure glad I only have to say that one time, from Vietnam anyway! It’s a

dreary bleary night. Santa’s filed instrument flight rules (IFR) for sure!

Instrument flight rules refers to rules that allow properly equipped aircraft to be flown

under instrument meteorological conditions.

Chapter Three

———

118

I sure give him credit though, he found that package of yours mailed

the fourth of November somewhere and with a radar hand off to a GCA

and a mirror to a MOREST landing and delivered the irascible packages!

How’s that for timing? You had no idea you were mailing your Christmas

presents so early, did you? Ah you are so smart, man, that’s planning to a

T! I’ll chew the hell out of that gun and brow beat the mess sergeant out

of something to pop that corn! Maybe I can get a small personal gas cook-

stove—like Sterno only more gas—and a pot.

We’ve already got the corn,

thank heavens (and you), and the salt and some kind of oil that should

do the trick. We finally borrowed a tiny Japanese icebox (one-foot square)

and a few beers, and I’m sure to be scratched [for flight] because of the

weather—enclosed is a schedule so you could believe it; the times slide,

of course, up to three hours before you actually CANK. No TV, but who

needs a boob tube when there is a wife to write and beer to sip! Sweet wife

who mails early.

. . .

Just heard the great white father Lyndon B. Johnson on the radio in

Johnson City, Texas.

I guess I should have stolen away on his aircraft.

I could have gotten my flight time and seen you at the same time. How

about that? And when he goes to San Antonio tomorrow, I could see

Uncle Sam. Did you know he sent me a copy of the “The Middle-Aged

Lions” that you made two months ago?

. . .

You know what I’m going to do tomorrow morning for the first time

since I left you in Austin? SLEEP IN! Ah, luxury. Ah, laziness, where hast

thou been? Cometh and we shall meet on the morrow! If I’m not inter-

rupted by the pitter patter of incoming mortars, it promises to be a really

nice Christmas!

Enclosed with the schedule for today, which really started late for the

first hops, are a couple of samples of hundreds of Christmas cards we got

from all over the country. It really gets you to read them. We passed them

out to all the sections with the Red Cross packages for all the troops.

Before we secured, we drove around the base, just checking, and one of

Sterno refers to a canned fuel used to heat food.

Lyndon B. Johnson, “Christmas Message to the Men and Women of the Armed Forces,”

Armed Forces Radio, 24 December 1966.

Vietnam War and the American Red Cross (Washington, DC: American Red Cross, n.d.).

December 1966

———

119

the guys from the crash crew was setting out flare pots in the driving rain

on the runway. He was covered from head to foot with black tar from the

pots and a pocket full of the cards we received. He couldn’t salute—his

hands were full—but he was smiling from ear to ear, saying “Muddy Merry

Christmas, Sir!” Well, I saluted him anyway. They’ve been getting their

share of business, of course, and really are pros. Not so with the guard,

because as we get more and more, the dregs increase too. Three were

caught sleeping on post last night and two were drunk on post, if you can

imagine that out here, especially with all the flares, mortars, artillery, and

flying going on let alone Charlie. Oh well, life does roll on and the sun

still comes up in the East each day regardless of what we do.

Thank you, Darling, for your love.

Ray

P.S. At chow tonight, would you believe Dick Douglas came over to the

table? Well, would you believe champagne at Chu Lai?

. . .

What’s the name of the newspaper you’re taking, the Austin-American

Statesman? When you get ready to put in the bit about the Air Medal, I

should know which paper to send it to. The next time you talk to Mom,

ask her what paper she reads. Washington Post probably for the same reason.

Hate to pass Christmas without singing a couple of carols. The radio

finally came through with some carols tonight.

Chris Gondek wrote to Major Lawrence A. “Larry” Whipple that

Lieutenant Commander Timothy J. Linehan was killed in Hawaii.

That

really is sad. Car, plane, no one knows here. . . .

Tonight, for once, Hanoi Hannah is quiet. Yesterday, she said “The

new Marine chow hall at Phu Bai would celebrate Christmas to a Viet

Cong Mass” or something fouled up like that. Yesterday, we killed more

than 100 Viet Cong near Phu Bai. Maybe that’s what she meant.

Some truce. We’re advertising to the world a 48-hour truce. They’re

doing the same and, on the side, telling their local supporters the truce is

only for 24 hours. So, standby for a blast tomorrow, I guess.

Linehan was one of the pilots of the Lockheed T-33 Shooting Star jet trainer. He was

flying in the two-seat plane with Maj Ralph Yakushi. “Navy Abandons Search for Pilot,”

Honolulu (HI) Advertiser, 21 November 1966.

Chapter Three

———

120

. . .

I guess Bob Hope, Billy Graham, and Cardinal Spellman are all too

good to come to Chu Lai. They’re all working Da Nang.

Too bad about

that $200,000 coliseum built by the division forces here for the Bob Hope

show. What they don’t know won’t hurt them.

Do you know it’s 2330 and I don’t care? I really do, I’m just feeling

my oats. . . .

Good night!

Merry Christmas to you all,

Ray

K . L

Sunday night

25 December 1966

Oh Darling,

Such a full and beautiful Christmas. I was just sitting here on the couch

reminiscing to myself when I thought, for heaven’s sake, why don’t I tell

Ray all about it. But it’s so much that I hardly know where to begin. I hon-

estly didn’t realize how much the family has grown, meaning having more

near this year would make the present load triple in size for the children.

We almost had two Christmases.

It all started peacefully Saturday morning. Mary Jane McNeil Hulbert

ran over and left a child for me to sit with and we had a good visit until

she left to get her hair done.

That afternoon, I decided I’d better get some more candles as pres-

ents for her and Carolyn Patrick. . . . So, I took all kids and went to shop.

Kirk and Karen discovered an old organ in the shop amidst the candles

and started pumping it. They knocked over so many candles in the pro-

cess that we left in hasty retreat! Home again and the kids decided we had

to put lights up outside, so we started nailing like mad and almost broke

a window with the hammer. . . . Finally, it was time for Charlie Brown’s

Christmas on TV—kids all bathed, shining and clean. . . .

“Billy Graham Opens His Tour of Vietnam,” New York Times, 21 December 1966. Bob

Hope’s 1966 Christmas USO Tour included stops in Vietnam, Thailand, and Guam.

A Charlie Brown Christmas first aired on 9 December 1965 on CBS and would win an

Emmy in 1966.

December 1966

———

121

Finally, Mom and Don arrived, loaded with presents and food.

Mom had cooked all day—turkey and creamed ham on pastry shells for

Christmas Eve dinner. Then the fun began. . . . Of course, I sat down

and played Christmas carols right away. Robin saw some men on TV

earlier who had to sing impromptu carols and remembered your voice.

Then we all sat in the kitchen on the expanded table (one chair is bro-

ken) and ate the ham croquettes and apple pie. And then we started to

open presents. . . .

And at last, it was my turn and, Honey, what can I say? That ring is

gorgeous. Everyone says it is the latest rage to have large rings and it is huge!

. . . I was afraid it looked too big on my hand and, of course, it has to be

cut down as it fits my thumb right now. But it really is my first piece of

valuable jewelry, and I shall always love it. I “hinted” to you, and you ex-

panded beyond my wildest dreams too! You and Mom should be spanked.

Also, the stunning evening blouse that is half of next year’s Marine Corps

Ball dress. Marvelous! Now that’s no worry.

. . .

Then, wonder of wonders, Don left on a mysterious mission, re-

turned, opened the door, and into the melee of ribbons and packages

came a black puppy dog, chain, bed, ball, and all! A five-month-old Ger-

man shepherd-collie mixture named Midnight straight from the pound.

Midnight brought the house down! I can’t describe him, but he eats ev-

erything on the floor, has a lovely disposition, and the children adore

him. But after much debate, I had to say no thank you to that present and

Midnight went home with Don. . . .

All was very peaceful this morning, though I woke up at 0600 for

some reason. Mental telepathy? Had a cigarette and went back to sleep.

Robin woke me with Kathy in a dirty diaper. And she’s trained but just a

bit confused at Christmas. Everyone loafed and enjoyed their presents,

showed them to friends, etc.

Then at 1600, we donned our finery—Karen in one of your new dress-

es, plus watch—and went to Mom’s house for an elegant Christmas din-

ner. All was soon bedlam again there, opening presents from Karen and

Ed, the Austin’s, and Pinky Preston. Thirteen of us in all plus three dogs.

Fire burning and the house glowing with lights and candles. Weather

beautifully Christmassy.

. . .

So, it went. A whirlwind lovely, beautiful Christmassy Christmas and

Chapter Three

———

122

you were so much a part of it, it wasn’t like you were gone at all. Merely

playing Santa Claus half a world away!

Now back to normal. The kids still have a week at home. I would

love to finish this day and crawl in bed with you. I’m practically in one of

my jittery states, where only your warm body calms me down. But a cup

of coffee will have to do. It’s cold, but there are many warm and loving

thoughts to keep me warm. And that’s my Charlie Brown Christmas re-

corded just for you.

Goodnight, Love,

Gig

P.S. Darling, just for the record, I LOVE YOU.

K . L

Tuesday, noon

27 December 1966

Hi Honey,

After that super-long letter Christmas Eve, I figure you could reread it for

a month, and I can do my laundry, write Mom, and catch up on some

sleep. I can’t sleep in in the morning, so the only suitable answer is to start

early. Don’t worry about what I’ll do with the extra clock. It’s a good one

and it will be nice to have a spare. They inevitably get broken. How about

a small electric popcorn popper as that gas stove didn’t work too well. It

spilled and we darn near burned the hut up—no more of that.

. . .

You’re right about the Luftwaffe. The F-104 was too much too soon.

The more sophisticated the aircraft, the more everyone needs identical

training.

Too bad the Marine Corps doesn’t buy your system of counting. I’d

only have an 11-month tour! Dear Sweet Heart, I left the West Coast on 9

October so to 9 November is one month; to 9 December is two months;

and to 9 January is three months etc. Would you believe two and a half

months?

We’ve been screaming for electricity so they sent a couple of gener-

ators. We’ve been screaming for huts (more material to build them) and

people with about the same urgency. Which would you believe we got

first? Hut material. . . . With 14 men to a hut and four tents, I may squeak

December 1966

———

123

by. We got 60 more people today. I hope there aren’t any more for a cou-

ple of weeks.

Just met Lou Gagnon’s second brother. He’s an artillery sergeant—the

first one was a teenage helicopter machine gunner here (all Marine’s) at

Chu Lai—and still a brother-in-law at Da Nang. The younger brother nat-

urally is having a ball on the choppers and wants to extend six months.

They’re not so sure about that.

. . .

As far as your money goes, go ahead a “dip a bit,” just as long as the

rate doesn’t exceed $200 a month of dunking. I’ll hang on to mine—it’s

six of one and half-dozen of the other.

The Japan bit with VMFA-323 in May is very short, just ground

school and aircraft familiarization, then mostly to Okinawa for guns, rock-

ets, bombs, napalm, etc. That’s still a long way off, so uncurl your left

nostril a bit. That’s better. Now SMILE! No, not swear—SMILE. . .

. . .

Happy New Year, Karen and Robin. Yuck, yuck, you all.

And a Happy New Year to you, Wifsan. It really will be eventually.

Love you,

Ray

K . L

Tuesday night

27 December 1966

Hi Sweet Pie,

Your 20 December letter came today. The one where you moved palm

trees, and you sounded positively gleeful. Probably chortling because you

got out from under the Christmas debris. I’m so snowed, I still sort of

wander in a daze. . . . I just now got the popcorn popper off to you and

the clock and two remaining popcorns out of the cupboard and thread. It

For more on issues with manpower and materials, see Jack Shulimson and Maj Charles

M. Johnson, U.S. Marines in Vietnam: The Landing and the Buildup, 1965 (Washington, DC:

History and Museums Division, Headquarters Marine Corps, 1978); and Jack Shulimson,

U.S. Marines in Vietnam: An Expanding War, 1966 (Washington, DC: History and Museums

Division, Headquarters Marine Corps, 1982).

Chapter Three

———

124

took me all afternoon to wrap them. Mom took the kids to movie. I had

Midnight the dog and Kathy for company.

Didn’t get much done yesterday either. . . .

I just wish I could get rid of the load of people I need to write and get

back to just our conversations.

That Australian bush hat was a hit. Kathy and Kirk both wear it. I am

still so crazy about my ring even if it doesn’t fit. I carry it in my purse and

show it to everyone. Tried it on Josephine today just for laughs and sure

enough it fit her. She la de da’d in it and said, “Now I know what a real

ring feels like.” Or words to that effect. I wish I had a really pretty hand to

wear it on, but I’m secretly pleased that it’s mine, regardless of my hands!

Just the fact that you cared enough to get it for me sort of overwhelms me.

I like it, I like it!

Now, I’m being silly again. It’s sort of late, like midnight, and I might

admit to being a little lonesome. My eyes are beginning to glaze over from

staring at the kitchen table too. Not really lonesome exactly, because I feel

very close to you in our letters. No sweat there at all. Everybody has told

me for a week now though that, “I’ll bet you miss Ray and worry about

him.” And now I’m beginning to believe them! Thanks, a rot. As a matter

of fact, I think all I need is to move a rubber tree plant or maybe a palm

tree. Sounds like awfully good therapy. Good night, Love Dove.

Happy New Year?!

Gig

K . L

Wednesday

28 December 1966

Hi Darling,

Would you believe four trash cans full and no pick up until Friday? I’m

overflowing. Also stuffed from eating Lammes chocolate nuts all by my-

self, without you to be cruel and take them away.

Wish you were here.

It’s really no fun to be a glutton alone.

Court-martialed! I really never came so close, did I? As a matter of

fact, of course, I planned that Christmas Eve delivery to the popcorn glut-

Lammes Candies is an Austin, TX, company established in 1885 that specializes in

pecan pralines and other chocolate, caramel, and nut candies.

December 1966

———

125

ton of the world, and it was nice to hear they delivered for me despite

the rain. My reindeers were pretty good this year. Ho, ho, ho! Caught you

being a nonbeliever, didn’t I? I hope your face is covered with salt, you

butter finger!

Speaking of butter fingers, I guess my chocolate fingers were caused

by slightly celebrating your Air Medal. Would you like a chocolate-

fingered kiss? Hmm, delicious! A bit salty, though. Say cheese, and send

it to me quick.

Your Christmas letter was outrageously good, and I got it today. Four

days—I’ll bet it’s because those pilots heading West are eager to get their

rest. But I really won’t knock my reindeers. Following my instructions to

go left, ah right, ah left, ah that-a-way.

. . .

Midnight is still running gaily through the house. He’s a very gay dog

really, doing jobs and staying clean at Mom’s house. That’s okay. Kathy

always bingos at her house.

That was kind of sweet that you read “The Middle-Aged Lions” from

Uncle Sam. It was a classic and I’m glad he sent it to you. Marvelous that

Playgirl got there. You, you cross-eyed baboon. Glad you’re happy. I told

Don your funny male joke. . . . And, as a matter of fact, I bought it at a

downtown pornographic book stall, and he paid me for it. But I’ll slink

no more for you. Had to hide it under my arm. And the 7-11 man raised

his eyebrows when I asked for it there. Best you hand it to an enlisted man

and tell him Happy New Year—if you dare! You have a wife to look in the

eye if you ever get them uncrossed. In the meantime, enjoy yourself. Be

my guest.

I’m going to have a serious discussion with a major just back from

Vietnam and his wife about Vietnam over cocktails tomorrow night.

Mom and I have a colonel escort. I shall do my best to look the part of a

major’s wife—wash my hair, take off my zippered pea-green house dress,

wear shoes, and get a babysitter. Gosh, that’ll take me all day!

Good night, Love Dove. Oops, there goes another rubber tree plant.

All that popcorn and no beer. Tsk, tsk. Would you believe that I talk

this way and don’t drink anything but coffee? More seriously tomorrow.

Promise!

Chapter Three

———

126

Und All Dat Schmaltz,

Gigsan

P.S. Give me an A for decoding your letter. What’s TAN?

K . L

Thursday night

29 December 1966

Hi Darling,

This is write-to-wifesan night! Notice that I haven’t learned one word of

Vietnamese yet. It’s also go-to-flick night if possible, and more than likely

an average Happy New Year too! (Early here, late there.)

Finally got my “name” in the paper—almost. The intelligence summa-

ry said, “At 1330, 2 F-9Js from H&MS-13 [Headquarters & Maintenance

Squadron 13] attacked and destroyed 5 buildings at BS’236399 while re-

ceiving intense automatic weapons fire” or words to that effect. That was

yesterday anyway. No names, just facts ma’am.

Today, we escorted helicopter recon inserts, checked Special Forces

camps, and meter metasssed yesterday’s strike areas.

. . .

Tell Kirk that a few days ago I saw a flick Old Yeller that really was great

with a couple of backwoods boys and their dog.

Really something to see.

Just to see how far down the news had traveled, I sat at the same ta-

ble tonight with the boy wonder, Lieutenant Colonel Talbert (VMFA-323

commanding officer) and he was well aware of my joining his squadron in

May. No apparent sweat on the surface anyway.

Hey, you know what, Gig? All this crap aside, I do love you. Why

it takes an enforced separation to prove the point, I’ll never know. Just

take something away and you sure find out quick enough how badly

you want it or not. And if I wanted you anymore, I couldn’t breathe!

Enough, enough, I’m convinced. All those horrible fights we used to have

at Beeville—lord!—and a couple at Quantico. I’d like to see how many

thousands of a second a fight would last now! And the children, I could

really get fouled up if I worried about how much they mean to me. You’ll

really have to watch me when I get home. I’ll probably spoil the daylights

out of them!

Und All Dat Schmaltz is a rough German translation for “and all that sappiness.”

Old Yeller, directed by Robert Stevenson (Burbank, CA: Walt Disney Productions, 1957).

December 1966

———

127

Should have the pictures taken in the office back tomorrow then

you’ll see I’m still me.

Do you mind a short cutoff ? I’m tired and I really should get to bed

and sleep, sleep, sleep. A few of these hops are quite tiring—all Gs and

very little let up.

Good night, Darling. I’m not so sure you’d like my hard bed, but

you’re welcome to try. It’s only a little matter of 16,094 kilometers and

four bunkmates barring you. Other than that—COME ON!

Ray

K . L

Friday

30 December 1966

Well now,

Happy New Year maybe? You’ll probably get this in 1967, and here I am

way back in 1966 talking to you. I predict you get this letter 4 January

1967. Tell me how good my prediction is.

It is actually drizzly damp here today, and all the kids are home. I’ve

only broken up about 10 fights by yelling louder than they could—Robin

and Kirk, my feisty ones—and even saw stars in front of my eyes once. Do

you suppose I had apoxia [altitude sickness]? Or maybe apoplexy? With

attendant red face probably. That I couldn’t see. It really hasn’t been quite

that bad. We listened to music and danced a bit this morning. Me in my

warm pink bathrobe and the kids built houses out of couch pillows. One

of those days.

I did go to the party last night with Mom and the colonel, who turned

out to be charming, and Mom should latch on to him. He escorted us in

his Ford Mustang but was a terrible driver. Too many jeep drivers probably.

Kathy just wandered in looking adorable in her dark green sweater

and told me about her loaded pants—a little late. She agrees that she was

a bad girl!

I met another Air Force waiting wife at the party and an Army major

who had been a sergeant in Japan in 1948 and his wife, who was a school-

mate of mine. So there was much to talk about. Most were retired Army

couples though. I showed my ring, which all women love to see, and the

waiting wife could read the box label saying Thailand, which I couldn’t

read, and so now that piece of the puzzle fits. She was very impressed as

Chapter Three

———

128

she had gotten a mined star sapphire, which she wasn’t so wild about.

She thought mine was much prettier, and I do agree. Everyone says it is

beautiful.

I’ve had much fun telling everyone how I lucked out with your Christ-

mas package. The hostess told me about her daughter-in-law mailing call-

ing cards and a silk robe to her husband in a tent!

Your popcorn popper should get there soon and you can go into busi-

ness. Charge a nickel a bag. The hostess also got a thank you letter from a

sergeant over there, which showed how much the troops liked the things

strangers sent, and she said she would answer it and say, “You’ll never

know how much joy you brought two old folks by answering.” She’s going

to have it put in the paper too—the sergeant’s letter that is. Und All Dat

Schmaltz again.

. . .

No plans for New Year’s, which shocks our Karen. That one is always

ready for a party.

Mailman just came—hold the phone! Nothing but a $9 doctor’s bill

for cough prescription medicine, urinalysis, and three look-sees! Guess I

really should go to Bergstrom. It’s hard with kids in school though.

Think I’ll cut Robin’s hair now. How are you doing with yours? Oh

yes, I think your double bunk idea was great. Hope you could get the new

ones squeezed in too. Sounds like a real load to find room for. I don’t

comment too much on it, but I know you are doing a great job, Honey.

They are lucky to have you.

Bye for now, and a kiss for every day of the New Year!

Gig

K . L

Saturday night

New Year’s Eve

31 December 1966

Hello Honey,

Well, tomorrow I can start using Mom’s calendar—Happy New Year! May-

be I’ll get “happy” tonight.

Whew, some weather today! Pouring down rain by the sheets. Bernie

Thomas (roomie) and I ran a VR (visual recon) of a couple of targets and

December 1966

———

129

WX reconned the entire area, while the whole wing stood down waiting.

Only found an inverted hole, and you had to crawl in there on your hands

and knees (2–300 feet). Oh well, we shot an actual TACAN/GCA and ar-

rested landing plus the targets they wanted and a couple more we found.

Not too bad, but no dice on ordinance delivery. You need a little elbow

room for that, so everyone CANKED and found out I was really quite

rusty on my actual instrument proficiency. Nice to find out the easy way

and do something about it.

If you’re a good girl, I’ll send you the picture taken in the office last

week, although it’s a bit overexposed, and a copy of the citation. Whether

you put it in the paper that’s up to you. I don’t know what paper you’re

taking to start with. Mom might want to—you know her!

Okay, okay, you’ve been holding your breath for me to say it’s cold

out here. Today, it’s about 75 degrees and everyone’s freezing! I’d have

grabbed a blanket if it wasn’t too cold to move. That hasn’t stopped the

mosquitoes that’s for sure. Nor the rats—rats bigger than cats and dogs,

all rabid. Even the few that were brought down from Japan have to go.

Four of the men from VMFA-314 are taking shots daily; their dog died.

They kept him inside, fed him from their canteen cups, etc. Not too good

a deal. We put out four traps last night to catch the rats under our hut.

They’re big-normous!

Small electric popcorn popper, Dozo, and two cheap Japanese light-

ers. My matches are running out.

. . .

Tit for tat (shouldn’t be the former, I guess), I’ll send you a picture

you send me a tit picture! You sure are married to a kind, gentle, thought-

ful bastard. I’ll bet you’re the only wife getting written to tonight—parties

galore—10 majors wetting down in the rain. What else yet?

THE GRAND OPENING—I did it again (I can think of a grand-

er opening. Can you?)—of the officer’s club. One concrete deck (poured

yesterday), a thatched roof (completed? today), a 44-piece band from Da

Nang, and 200 drunk officers just getting started. And don’t forget the

RAIN thrashing in through the not-so-completed walls.

Just this minute, I was brought your beautiful Christmas letter. It’s

almost overwhelming. I’m pleased beyond words everything was so nice.

Really got to me several times and I had to stop and look out at the rain

for a while and then read on—just beautiful, Gig. I just can’t believe how

Chapter Three

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130

lucky I am to have such a marvelous, wonderful family. How did you have

the heart to turn down the dog? Tried to read it again—not quite up to

that twice in a row. I’ll try it again tomorrow.

Goodnight, My Love,

Ray

———

131

JANUARY 1967

Midnight

1 January 1967

Happy New Year, Darling,

The bells are ringing, horns blowing, sirens going and lots of pops and I’m

in the middle of an old Bing Crosby movie!

The bells sound like they are

saying, New Year, New Year, New Year! I went outside and it’s cold out,

but there’s a moon and it feels like New Years. Miss not hearing Auld Lang

Syne, but I bet you sing it with your friends tonight.

I told Sharon and

Bill this afternoon that it’s not my favorite celebration and, “Ray says it’s

because I don’t drink enough!” I really think you’re right. HOW ABOUT

THAT!

I was in a new cleanup mood all day today though, and I washed

the tub, washed the dog (who innocently watched me), and washed the

tub again. Midnight was a gentleman though and never moved a muscle,

even laid down. Then he frisked around and I started vacuuming and

Given the actor’s long career and the season, Gig may be referring to one of Crosby’s hol-

iday movies or his more popular titles, such as Holiday Inn (1942), White Christmas (1954),

The Bells of St. Mary’s (1945), or Going My Way (1944).

Auld Lang Syne is a Scottish song with words attributed to the national poet of Scotland,

Robert Burns, which were said to have been written in 1788 but not seen in print until

after his death in 1796.

Chapter Four

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132

discovered a job in a corner. So, he got spanked. Ah joy, it’s very short

lived, heh?

He gave me a scare last night. I put him out and forgot he was out.

Then while reading the newspaper on the couch I looked up and saw

the door handle move like someone was coming in! Trembling, I said,

“Who is it?” And then locked all doors again and peeked out. There sat

Midnight. Thud!

I’m short of paper tonight. Karen went shopping and came home

with onion skin. So, what else is new? Lance Coleman’s mother made

him bring back the medal he took from Kirk. I couldn’t find any of yours

and this was one left here by the other owner I think, but he sure wanted

it. I gave him a decal, but he snuck home the medal too. I’ve promised

him you’ll send him one if he can wait a month. Do you think you could

rake up one or a patch? I’ve never seen a boy so crazy to have a Marine

medal. Kirk won’t part with his, as you can tell from his letter! Wasn’t it

cute. I loved the bouncy bounce part. He sure is crazy about his dog. And

it really is one smart dog; he goes to his bed when I point! Wish someone

would point me to bed like that. Any volunteers!

I’ll be glad when your New Year’s letter comes. I do hope you had a

bit of a truce, though there was something on TV about a big battle in the

central highlands.

Well, best I not talk about that. I’d like to think my

letters give you a breath of dear old normalcy or is that lunacy?

. . .

But it’s a New Year! And I promise to be good. So, postpone all

court-martial proceedings until I get a proper defense stance. Now, I’m

not going to draw you a picture of that. Think Playgirl. How generous can

you get?

Time to put the New Year to bed.

Goodnight love,

Gig

The North Vietnamese 1st Division attacks allied outposts around Dak To in the Central

Highlands, an area that has been the scene of heavy fighting since the summer. The enemy

is largely destroyed or forced to withdraw by 23 November, after weeks of fighting. The

Battle of Dak To is the largest and costliest engagement in the Central Highlands since

1965. For more on activities in the Central Highlands at this time, see Jack Shulimson,

U.S. Marines in Vietnam: An Expanding War, 1966 (Washington, DC: History and Museums

Division, Headquarters Marine Corps, 1982).

January 1967

———

133

K . L

Monday night

2 January 1967

Hi Baby,

Slight interruption as my voltage adjuster was starting to burn up for some

reason, probably needs a new transformer.

Got the package with the popcorn, clock, and thread, but there wasn’t

anything resembling a popper in there. Thank you! Domo!

Midnight sounds great. How big is he going to grow? I thought you’d

get a small kind, like a beagle.

That hat of Kirk’s isn’t Australian. It’s a Vietnamese camouflaged

jungle rain hat.

I’m sure relieved that you like your ring! And the first half of your

birthday ball dress, well, I was really sweating them out. I fussed over that

ring something fierce. I spent hours on it; I worried, fussed, looked and

looked, but I kept coming back to that same one all the time. I figured, to

heck with the size just get the right damned ring! Take it to the jeweler to

get it cut down and also take the girls’ watch chain and have them solder

it shut. Kirk’s watch band too to cut down.

When I got your Christmas letter, whew, it was almost too much all

at once. I’m just overwhelmed at how marvelously well everything turned

out. I’d been sitting on pins and needles ever since I mailed my packages

from Okinawa. Well, I guess for a couple of months before that when I

saw how limited everything here was. Your wonderful letter made the

whole schmeer so well worth it.

. . .

We had a norther ourselves this morning. Tropical Storm Pamela is

hitting the coast down near Cam Ranh Bay and we’re getting all the cold

air from China blown down over our sopping wet necks.

The tempera-

ture plunged down to 65 degrees, and I shivered all damn day! No winter

clothes, of course, just that Sears plastic raincoat and flight suit—flights

got canceled that’s for sure.

In Japanese, domo (literally “very”) is often used to stress the speaker’s feelings, but it can

also be used in this instance to mean thank you very much.

Typhoon Pamela originated as a tropical depression on 24 December 1966 east of Palau.

It caused significant damage and loss of life in the Philippines before weakening and dissi-

pating west of South Vietnam by 31 December.

Chapter Four

———

134

After looking at a map, I’ve worked every place listed in the I Corps

area from above the demilitarized zone (DMZ) down to Bong Son, Binh

Dinh Province, and a lot of places that aren’t there, of course, but there is

only Da Nang, Chu Lai, and Ubon Ratchathani, Thailand, for jets so we

really have one eye on the fuel and one eye on the weather. It’s 357 kilo-

meters to Ubon Ratchathani if either Da Nang or Chu Lai are closed for

more than a few minutes. Just Friday morning, for example, a Douglas A-4

Skyhawk landing in front of me blew its tires and closed the runway right

as my low fuel light popped on (1,200 pounds). Nothing to figure really;

power up, climb, divert to Da Nang, Mach climb to 18,000 feet, back to

idle, descend, request a “low state–no delay,” straight in approach, turned

off the runway with 550 pounds, and close to “pucker” fuel (500 pounds)

but okay. I called Chu Lai and the runway was still closed one-and-a-half

hours later. That was the third time for me. A couple of weeks ago, we put

out an order for emergency use of the taxiway for low state aircraft (low

fuel). We couldn’t possibly go to Ubon Ratchathani and Da Nang was

also closed. It’s a bit involved but should be worth it someday.

Both Major Joe Wuertz and Captain J. P. Faulkner have had their

aircraft hit with small arms fire. That’s probably what we’re up against.

Seems like someone gets hit every day. The poor choppers are the ones

that get it the most; they draw three to five hits a day.

Um, you wouldn’t like me today. I’m filthy. For four days, I’ve said

I was going to take a shower the next afternoon when it’s bound to be

warmer? Ha! It gets colder and I get scroungier. I mean how far can you

go on a 16th of a pint of Mennen’s!

My face is clean as the driving rain,

but my feet . . . well . . .

Goodnight, Darling. I sure love you.

Without you, I’m nothing—zilch.

Ray

K . L

For more on the Marine Corps’ use of aviation elements in Vietnam, particularly heli-

copters, see Adam Givens, The Mobility War: Marine Corps Helicopters in Vietnam, 1962–

1975 (Quantico, VA: Marine Corps History Division, 2023).

Mennen is a brand of men’s toiletry products, such as Mennen Speed Stick, soaps, and

aftershave.

January 1967

———

135

Monday afternoon

2 January 1967

Hi Sweet,

The mailman hasn’t picked my letter today, but here goes anyway. You

wouldn’t believe the change in the house two days later. My, have I been

working! And so have the kids. Much credit to them. Everything is packed

away once again, and we feel nice and clean. Tomorrow, they go back to

school, but today the weather has turned to spring—as only whimsical

Texas weather can do—and the kids are outside. Kirk is building a soap-

box car, he thinks. At any rate, they are having fun tearing orange “craters”

apart, after several laborious trips to the back of the grocery store.

. . .

The paper says there is quite a lot of action around Hue and I know

you may be extra busy, if that’s the word for it, so I’ll stay busy too and see

if that helps!

No truly, it’s just that my ears really perk up now when there

is any mention of Marines, especially “calling in air support.” And Hue

looks awfully close to Da Nang. U.S. Army general William C. Westmore-

land called it a direct threat, and I would call it that too!

I think I’ll give up on Mr. Mailman and go mail these two letters.

Maybe it’s a federal holiday—it just dawned on me that it probably is. Kids

watched the Rose Festival on TV this morning, but this Texas sunshine

beats the hell out of California sunshine.

I’ve even been casting glances

at the boat. Imagine that! I could just picture you wasting the whole day

climbing around on it, and I would be so mad at you! And you would do

it anyway!

Hate to break up the Katzenjammer hammer kids in the backyard,

American newspapers at the time were covering stories about the end of the truce. See,

for example, “Viet Truce Ends; U.S. Bombs Reds,” San Diego (CA) Union, 2 January 1967.

For more on action around Hue at the time, see Col Richard D. Camp Jr., USMC (Ret),

Death in the Imperial City: U.S. Marines in the Battle for Hue, 31 January to 2 March 1968

(Quantico, VA: Marine Corps History Division, 2018).

Jack Shulimson, “The Marine War: III MAF in Vietnam, 1965–1971” (presentation,

Second Triennial Symposium, After the Cold War: Reassessing Vietnam, Texas Tech Uni-

versity, Lubbock, 18–20 April 1996).

Gig is referring to the 78th Annual Rose Parade, which takes place in Pasadena, CA,

every year. See “Pasadena Ready to Greet World with 78th Annual Rose Parade,” Desert

Sun, 21 December 1966.

Chapter Four

———

136

but here goes.

Off to get dog food and cigarettes—both important! I’m

ready for you to place your next order, Sir. Only hit me light. I’m feeling

sort of poorly . . . .

All my love, of course,

Gig

K . L

Tuesday night

3 January 1967

Hello Dearest,

Your Thursday letter (29 December) came today . . . and I’ve been waiting

eagerly to get going on us again. Now I know what you were doing that

night. These holidays just frustrate me with no mail deliveries. So, I was

darn glad to see a letter.

The kids went back to school today, good as gold, and Kathy and I

missed them, though we were kept busy cleaning up after Midnight once

again. . . . I began to wonder about him this afternoon when he was act-

ing much too sleepy. Decided a vaccination shot was in order before all

else and called Mom to come along and babysit in the car while I took

him to the veterinarian. We all trooped in the vet’s office—minus Mom

and Kathy—and the doctor took one look, a temperature, and of course

diagnosed distemper.

He advised us to take him back to the pound and get another dog as it

was a 50-50 chance he’d recover even with treatment.

Long drive over to

the pound and we left him, hopefully to be returned if he gets well. Kirk

was a pretty sad little boy tonight, but he took it like a man. I was con-

cerned about the way Midnight had suddenly growled a bit—just a bit—at

Kathy and Kirk, so I knew I couldn’t try to care for him at home for their

sakes. Too risky, but I sure wish I could have. The vet wouldn’t keep him

The Katzenjammer Kids is an American comic strip by Rudolph Dirks that debuted on 12

December 1897 in the American Humorist, the Sunday supplement of the New York Journal.

It would later be redrawn by Joseph Musial beginning in 1956, who continued the strip

until 1976. See “Camera-ready Comic Art Drawing for The Katzenjammer Kids,” National

Museum of American History, Smithsonian, accessed 3 April 2023.

Canine distemper is a viral disease that affects the respiratory, gastrointestinal, and

central nervous system and was once the leading cause of death in puppies until a vaccine

was developed in 1960.

January 1967

———

137

at all, so I had no choice. Don will probably be pretty upset when he gets

back from Houston, as it was sort of his dog too.

. . .

Goodness sakes, I’m glad Kirk didn’t see Old Yeller. That’s a real tear-

jerker, isn’t it? But I’m glad you could see a movie that was better than

Elvis! Bet it was good and I’d like to see it—maybe not tonight though!

Darling, don’t sweat our fights. I loved every cotton-picking minute of

them. It would be awfully dull if we cooed to each other all the time. It’s

an awful female trick to get an awful male reaction, that’s all. I’m so damn

female. I really can’t guarantee no further fireworks because there are still

my “periods” to contend with, but I may be a bit milder hopefully. And

you will deserve a rest after Vietnam, which will bring out all my nicer

instincts, I feel sure. So, no more dramatics—maybe! Fortunately, it’s ALL

MY FAULT! However, any man, who teases his children by misspelling

their names, will have WISE WIFES and CHILDRENS to contend with!

I could practically feel you going ZZZ in your letter; you really did

sound ready for bed. I wish I could give you some of my spare time. I have

too much.

I’m proud of your five-buildings strike. Sounds like you were on tar-

get, and thanks for my own personal intelligence report! Better than TV.

I’m so hooked on news that I had to laugh at myself when I jumped up

tonight from reading at 2150 for the news like a bell went off. And I get up

at 0800 promptly, not to see the kids off but to get the first five minutes of

news when they give the Vietnam news. Won’t we be a mess when we get

together? Two automatic robots saying, “Oh yeah, sorry about that.” My

reflex just went off. It will take us a year to get unkinked. At least we both

will understand because of these wonderful letters that keep us close. Bye

for now, love. Send me a shopping list. I’m ready to go to work.

XXXs,

Gig

K . L

Wednesday night

4 January 1967

Hello Sweetsan,

Yes, I’d believe four full GI cans full. Would you believe five days with no

showers and tonight is no night to change my luck!

Chapter Four

———

138

Ho, ho, ho—would you believe 10 tins and 2 bags of popcorn and no

popper? Sears, Dozo, $6.20 for the 2.5-quart model.

Hi Karen, and a Happy New Year to you too, well three days ago!

“The new dog, Midnight sounds like a dream.” Yuk, yuk, yuk. I’m sure

happy you liked your dress and watch.

Hi Robin, who ever saw a kiss like that before! Yes, thank you for the

popcorn, but tell your mother I need a Kenmore Sears Roebuck Electric

Popcorn Popper. It doesn’t taste as good without being popped!

Dear Kirk, that is a real Vietnamese jungle hat, not Australian. I’m

sure happy you liked everything. Ask your mom to get your watch short-

ened for you or else buy another band to fit your arm. . . .

Well, your prediction was absolutely correct. I got your 30th letter

today on the 4th, so usually it takes eight days. How about that. Yes, those

star sapphires just don’t hold a candle to your ring. I thought you knew it

was from Thailand, just bought in Okinawa. . . .

Next, I can worry about oversleeping again. I trusted the electric clock

one time too many and the power had been cut for three hours! The col-

onel is outside in his jeep raring to go and I’m out like a light. What can

you say? I thought he couldn’t see me because I’d covered my bed with

a camouflage jungle foxhole cover to keep out the blowing sand—didn’t

work—and was caught in the act. When I finally got to work at 0730, I

said, “Good evening, Colonel. I’ll forfeit the first round.” Everyone in the

hut had threatened to throw me in the swamp with my nice loud windup!

Hell, I just barely hear that over the aircraft. No, my hearing is as good as

the sleeping.

One of the new hut mates just got circumcised, followed by lots of

jokes like screwing around with the electric can opener.

You know, all

those sweet sympathetic thoughts. I’m sure as hell not going to oversleep

tomorrow. Would you believe four alarm clocks? Best I try them out. It’s

been a long day.

Early history shows that male circumcision in the United States was quite uncommon,

but by the 1950s, approximately 90 percent of newborn boys were circumcised. For more,

see Brian J. Morris, Stefan A. Bailis, and Thomas E. Wiswell, “Circumcision Rates in the

United States: Rising or Falling? What Effect Might the New Affirmative Pediatric Policy

Statement Have?,” Mayo Clinic Proceedings 89, no. 5 (May 2014): 677–86, https://doi.org

/10.1016/j.mayocp.2014.01.001.

January 1967

———

139

Goodnight, Darling. I love you.

Ray

K . L

Wednesday night

4 January 1967

Darling,

Tonight, you’re getting a short snort. I really must write Al a thank you for

the box of goodies he sent the kids. . . .

Mom and I went to a jeweler (and pawn shop owner) today and got an

appraisal of the ring for kicks—it’s worth $185! . . . .

Kathy for once was speechless when I picked her up at nursery. She

tried to say, “Hi, Mom!” and the lady shushed her as it was nap time for

other kids. She froze in midair with mouth open, wanting to cry and

not daring. She solemnly handed me her Matchbox car, which she had

clutched for three hours.

Mom called the pound and we got news that Midnight was not doing

well and would be put to sleep. I could hardly sleep myself last night think-

ing of him and how I should have put aspirin in his water.

My gosh there was a scene on TV tonight of the 480-kilometer Blue-

bird K7 boat that blew up with David Campbell, the sportsman. It didn’t

really blow up, but it took off from the water like a jet, did two flips,

and then hit. I think he just got into the lift speed range.

Also, on TV,

I saw Colonel Robin Olds, the World War II Air Force ace whose wife

was actress Ella Raines.

Remember her? Blue, blue eyes, dark hair. They

interviewed him about the MiG successes. . . .

There is no known cure for distemper, so Gig could have been referring to what some

at the time may have considered a home remedy or simply the anti-inflammatory and

pain-reducing properties an aspirin could have offered.

“Don Campbell Perishes: Speed King Dies in Crash,” Spokesman Review, 5 January 1967.

Operation Bolo was conducted by the 8th Tactical Fighter Wing, commanded by Col

Robin Olds. Olds had his F-4 Phantom II fighters use attack aircraft call signs and al-

titudes to trick the North Vietnamese fighters into thinking the F-4s were bomb-laden

Republic F-105 Thunderchiefs. When the North Vietnamese fighters attacked, they found

the F-4s ready for a fight. In a matter of minutes, they shot down seven MiG-21 fighters.

For more on this event, see “The War: Off at the Elbow,” Time Magazine, 13 January 1967.

The term MiG refers to the Soviet Mikoyan-Gurevich aircraft being used by the North

Vietnamese during the war, though several models were available. See John T. Correll,

“Against the MiGs in Vietnam,” Air & Space Magazine, 1 October 2019.

Chapter Four

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140

Got a letter from you, hoorah, hoorah, back dated to Tuesday, 27

December. I already had your 29 December one, but I didn’t mind going

back. Glad you don’t mind getting the second clock. It will come with

popcorn popper.

. . .

You sound awfully crowded with people. I do hope you can smooth it

out. Aren’t you glad you got there first?

Kathy doesn’t need a map for you. She just digs into old boxes of

photographs and brings me your picture. Really knocks me out. She also

missed your stocking after I took it off the door. How about that! She even

recognizes your letters now. BELIEVE IT OR NOT.

. . .

Oh yes, I take Karen to a movie next week at school It’s Fun to Be a

Girl. Boys go to the gym with their fathers and see Boy to Man to “prepare

for changes to come.”

Gulp. Kirk was very curious and got the whole bit

tonight too. . . . Father, help! He always says he’s going to be a bachelor

after a sex discussion. “What if I have all girls?” Well, you might have all

boys, Kirk.

. . .

ENOUGH! Why are you so writeable?

Your puny wife and stupid heart,

Gig

P.S. Roger okay to dip $200? Thanks!

K . L

Friday, cold

6 January 1967

Dearest Sweetheart,

I have a new bright red rooster calendar to look at now in the kitchen.

How’s that for news! Absolutely nothing interesting happened yesterday,

so I didn’t write. Today was better. I went to the commissary with Mom

and Kathy and enjoyed bringing goodies home, like a new pillow for Kar-

en, new underpants for Kirk, and new toothbrushes.

For more on public school sexual education at the time, see Beatrice M. Gudridge,

Sex Education in Schools: EDUCATION U.S.A., Special Report, 9th ed. (Washington, DC:

National School Public Relations Association, distributed by ERIC Clearinghouse, 1969).

January 1967

———

141

. . .

I’m finally getting Life magazine. Would you like me to mail them to

you too? What magazines are over there? Ready for another Playboy? Sorry

about that! Beg me.

How’s the popcorn concessionaire these days? In business yet? That

was a popcorn nightmare you gave me for two-and-a-half months. It’s al-

most three months now, isn’t it? Just 10 months more to go. What’s a

month here or there?

I’ve got dishes and a half hour of Johnny Carson yet to go. That’s all

I can get on the kitchen boob tube, and I am very tired of him, but he’s

better than dishes, period.

Goodnight, Dearest Man. Be a good man and get plenty of sleep, and

plenty of eats, and take good care and thank you for calling me Princess.

Gray hair, what gray hair? Just Princess.

Gig

K . L

Friday night

6 January 1967

Hello There,

Well now, yes, you did send me a popper and it POPS like a popper

should pop. . . .

I got to work on time yesterday, but had to change the group working

hours—not an easy task—from 0700 to 0730 and even made breakfast for

a change.

Winds are blowing and sands flowing. The rain has finally let up. It’s

been about two weeks now. I only have three sets of skivvy’s left. Now, if

it’ll just warm up a skosh, it’s washing time for me and my clothes.

Some nut is still in the movie distribution—Pinocchio in Outer Space

and Billy the Kid versus Dracula. Whew, the only good one was Agent for

H.A.R.M.—nice bikini shots.

Johnny Carson hosted the late-night entertainment program, The Tonight Show, on NBC

from 1962 until its final episode on 22 May 1992.

Pinocchio in Outer Space, directed by Ray Goossens (Universal City, CA: Universal Pic-

tures, 1965); Billy the Kid versus Dracula, directed by William Beaudine (Los Angeles, CA:

Embassy Pictures, 1966); and Agent for H.A.R.M., directed by Gerd Oswald (Universal

City, CA: Universal Pictures, 1966).

Chapter Four

———

142

TAN is a radio frequency. We use colors for frequencies. Haven’t used

AUSTIN for a long time because it used to be big rockets.

Today’s hop wasn’t too bad—a helicopter escort. It could have been

Lieutenant Colonel Ken D. Vanek. He’s here somewhere. He got recom-

mended for the Distinguished Flying Cross (DFC) last month, only the

wing turned it down and he ended up with a Navy and Marine Corps

Commendation Medal.

I’m still plugging along. I got recommended for

a gold star in lieu of a second Air Medal today.

Colonel Owens is slowly going along with the program. He even

drove down today and met me at the aircraft. I was so surprised that I

forgot to salute him. One of my old friends in Marine Aircraft Group 12

(MAG-12) got hit and shot down this morning just below Da Nang (A-4

pilot). We just called their club, and he’s having quite a happy hour. I

understand. Why not!

If you get two letters today, the other one is the III Marine Amphibi-

ous Force’s (III MAF) paper Sea Tiger.

Not too bad a rag. And a joke for

Pris about Lyndon B. Johnson, the hero of Cam Ranh Bay.

Heard the Beatles were down to seventh place. How shocking. How

is our Penn Square stock doing? Above 17 yet? Did we see that British

farce about the school of hard knocks? One-upmanship? I swear we did.

I’m keeping close track of just who is one up on me here. The damn col-

onel is about 10 up on me, and he claims he never heard of the game—a

natural.

Guess you’d better dye your hair blonde or else send me another

picture to look at. At the moment, and for the past three months, you’ve

been a BLONDE. Hell, take your pick. You could be blonde, brunette, or

red. With our kids, who could razz you about that. My color is fairly well

set—GRAY—and getting grayer by the week. Cutting it off doesn’t seem to

The Navy and Marine Corps Commendation Medal is awarded to servicemembers who

distinguish themselves by heroism, outstanding achievement or meritorious service (but

not of sufficient nature to warrant a higher decoration, such as a Distinguished Flying

Cross).

III MAF published and distributed Sea Tiger throughout South Vietnam from 10 No-

vember 1965 to 18 July 1968.

Stice is likely referencing Johnson’s presence in South Vietnam, where he awarded Gen

William C. Westmoreland with the Distinguished Service Medal. See Lyndon B. Johnson,

“Remarks to Members of the Armed Forces at Cam Ranh Bay, Vietnam” (speech, Cam

Ranh Bay, Vietnam, 26 October 1966).

January 1967

———

143

work as that used to be an easy switch. Chop it off—presto—brown. I’ll bet

you even have a couple of grays. Kirk, you look! And if Kirk finds any, he

can pull them out and mail them to me. Okay, Kirk?

Yes, goodnight, Honey. Damn, I miss you. Every time I think how

great it is to sleep in my own bed alone . . . it’s a lousy joke. Hell, we really

fit together perfectly.

Figure 22. Maj Ray Stice awarded the Air Medal

Source: Stice family collection.

Chapter Four

———

144

Goodnight Darling,

Ray

K . L

Sunday afternoon

8 January 1967

Hello Baby,

Isn’t this the most original paper you’ve ever seen? Still at work naturally.

Had the early early this morning and got CANKED due to poor weather

up north. Some truce we had for New Year’s Eve. Hell, more than 1,000

Viet Cong moved up on Hue/Phu Bai in broad daylight. They dug in and

did everything but assault. It took about four hours to get permission to

break that up. They were starting their assault and we clobbered them

from here and Da Nang at the same time.

I won’t get technical, but there are huge numbers of Viet Cong all

around our encampments. Our problem is to keep them from having an

opportunity to mass forces. Very simple plan, per se, as long as they can’t

mass, our big areas are relatively safe except for small groups of attackers.

Our work is cutout for us that’s for sure.

. . .

I guess I really should conduct an investigation on you for something.

You have been rather insubordinate lately. Ready? Assume the position!

Um, one of these days.

Colonel Talbert says the only way to hack these cold outdoor showers

is to chug down a couple of fast belts first. Then he said it didn’t work. All

you had was a wet cold drunk!

Awful lot of activity this evening. Commandant General Wallace M.

Greene is arriving shortly.

Only commanding officers allowed at the

hanger, so screw them. I’ll observe from my window. It’s right across the

fuel pits. Lots of the usual precautions: choppers in the hills, extra cam-

eras and microphones. Too much of some things. At the moment, there

are four transports blocking the way. I’ll bet Colonel Douglas D. Petty

For more on these actions, see Shulimson, U.S. Marines in Vietnam: An Expanding War,

1966; and Maj Gary L. Telfer, LtCol Lane Rogers, and V. Keith Fleming Jr., U.S. Marines

in Vietnam: Fighting the North Vietnamese, 1967 (Washington, DC: History and Museums

Division, Headquarters Marine Corps, 1984).

Telfer, Rogers, and Fleming, U.S. Marines in Vietnam: Fighting the North Vietnamese, 1967,

75–77.

January 1967

———

145

(MAG-13 commanding officer) is going into orbit. More choppers and

trucks full of troops. He’d better hyaccu [hurry up] before the rain starts

up again. He’s going to watch an A-4 take-off with JATO bottles and make

an arrested landing. I hope the idiot doesn’t cock his nose wheel and close

the runway like they did last week for some other VIP. Oops, too late,

rains started up again. Sorry about that. It certainly is NOT representative

of Chu Lai. Ho, ho.

Did you know we have the most obnoxious flies in the world? They

just look at you and say, “Get your damn meat hooks off my coffee!”

Midnight sounds like a riot. How do you like him, Kirk? You’d better

learn how to clean up after him and help your Mother. I had my first and

most impressionable dog when I was Kirk’s age and I never forgot him.

Maybe we can keep this one.

. . .

Yes, your letters do add a trace of my kind of normalcy, thank heav-

ens! Couldn’t do without them that’s for damned sure!

. . .

Would you believe no Commandant? Lord, they’re hard pushing a

big four-engine Lockheed C-130 Hercules out from in front of the hang-

er. Mustn’t blow sand in the commanding officers’ eyes. Looks like a

lot of people heading for the hills, so it must have been a bust. If he

snuck in, I’m sure I missed it. Oh well, the colonel got three letters, so

he’ll be happy. It’s either “his little redhead” or that “god damned red

head” depending on the mailman. I won’t offer my endearments to you

during like situations. That’s a violation of Article 31.b Uniform Code

of Military Justice (UCMJ); Fifth Amendment of the Constitution; and

paragraph 3, section XI Bylaws for Black Muslims.

Like the private first

class (PFC) who answers the phone, “It’s your nickel. Go ahead, man.”

The voice on the other end says, “Do you know who this is?” “No,” an-

swers the PFC. “By God, this is General Grogg.” Whereupon the PFC

says, “Do you know who this is?” General says, “No!” PFC says, “Whew.

Goodbye!”

. . .

Article 31 of Uniform Code of Military Justice (10 U.S.C. § 831) protects servicemem-

bers against compulsory self-incrimination and requires that they be informed of the al-

leged offense before being questioned; the Fifth Amendment guarantees the right to a

grand jury, forbids “double jeopardy,” and protects against self-incrimination.

Chapter Four

———

146

Womp, womp. Good thing Greene left. It sounds like a pretty fierce

duel just out of here, shaking the walls.

Well now, last night’s leftover popcorn tastes good. I’m back at the

hut now. Not too bad, or not all that bad as they say here.

Did you get me a subscription to Playboy, Playgirl? If you fouled up,

you’ll have to go to the local sin center. Aw, come on now, it is NOT por-

nographic. I’m waiting patiently for January’s issue!

Dark now, so goodnight, Sweetheart.

I love you!

Ray

P.S. General Greene did show. I just missed him somehow.

K . L

Monday

9 January 1967

Darling,

My spirits absolutely soar when a letter from you arrives. You are the dear-

est, sweetest, smelliest man I ever knew! I’m referring to your 3 January

letter that just came. I put the map up right away on the kitchen closet

door and it’s great.

Glad I waited until this morning to write. I was weathered in with the

curse last night and feel much more human this morning. Joe, the yard-

man, showed up before coffee, needing $5 as his “customers” are all out

of town. He looked like a winter bird that needed to be fed, and I didn’t

even consider saying no. But I gave him $10 and made him go get change,

and then I lectured him to go to the employment bureau and handed him

the other $5!

. . .

Speaking of money, yes, I’ll send the tax forms when I get them. Guess

I go to the post office for them. I’ll find out. . . . The popcorn popper was

not air mailed, but they said it was light and would probably be anyway.

Hope it comes soon. It left with the clock package. . . .

In the 1960s, unemployment was relatively high in the United States, at approximately

4.9 percent between 1960 and 1973. “Unemployment in the G7 countries: 1960–2000—

TED: The Economics Daily,” U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, 5 September 2002. For

more on social programs at the time, see “History: Era of the New Frontier and the Great

Society, 1961–1969,” U.S. Department of Labor, accessed 4 April 2023.

January 1967

———

147

The flash bulbs still didn’t flash on Kirk’s camera. I’m ready to weep!

Or go buy an Instamatic.

They are really the ticket. Back to the shop with

my bag of cameras. Plunk.

. . .

I flooded the car when I was getting Kirk. It floods awfully easily and

I have to be terribly patient. I’m not as cool as you are when you divert

to Da Nang. That really is Puckersville. Or should I say I was on that

hop. I practically breathed a sigh of relief with you. I got the picture all

right—clear as a thousand bells. They’d better—you’d better?—build another

runway at Chu Lai.

Didn’t know the small arms fire was that heavy in those parts. I’m

biting my nails now and have five gray hairs when I really let myself think

about it, which I don’t. I just plain old miss you and that’s bad enough.

I even reread some letters yesterday and it calmed me down. The Ma-

rine’s down in the Mekong Delta made me at least glad you weren’t down

there.

Small comfort.

My gosh, I’m talking war talk. And you don’t need that from me!

Kathy thinks I’m dull company and she’s through playing with your tool-

box. Nothin’ says lovin’ like heat from the oven, and we both send our

kitchen best love to you—oven on.

P.S. You’re right about bedtime without you—zero-zilch-nudding—I’m

tired of clutching myself trying to find you in bed. Where you is? Gee, it

will be good to clutch you again.

Gig

K . L

Tuesday

10 January 1967

Darling,

After going to the post office yesterday, I happened to call Betty Watting-

er, whose husband Major Fred Sidney Wattinger is an Air Force officer

The Instamatic was a line of inexpensive and easy-to-load cameras made by Kodak in

1963 for 126 or 110 cartridge film.

Operations in the Mekong Delta area during this period did not produce the results the

military hoped for, yielding few enemy casualties, but resulting in seven Marine deaths.

Telfer, Rogers, and Fleming, U.S. Marines in Vietnam: Fighting the North Vietnamese, 1967,

151.

Chapter Four

———

148

flying O-1E Cessna Bird Dogs somewhere near Phu Bai and (Tam Duc?)

is with a Special Forces camp. He was a classmate of Don’s and I remem-

ber him slightly too. . . . I called to tell her about my map from you and

happened to mention getting the 1040 tax forms. She said she had called

the tax office and been told that you all do not have to file returns until

120 days after returning from Vietnam.

But I am mailing them anyway,

plus extras. The funding information will probably come in mail soon, as

it said so on their last form. At any rate, no sweat for a while!

Sidney left about the same date as you and had quite a record before

that for long-term alerts with Air Force—some sort of record. He’s gone

four out of five years! You probably fly over his camp. She said it was secret

stuff he’s doing for the Marines, probably looking for enemy. He’s official-

ly stationed at Da Nang, but not there really.

. . .

I saw this beagle picture in the paper the same day your letter came

suggesting a beagle! But I really can’t seem to get much enthusiasm for

another dog yet. Kirk and Don talk about getting one Saturday though,

so. . . . If those two blokes work on me, I’m a goner.

Glad you told me the hat was Vietnamese. It is so cute on both Kathy

and Kirk. When I get a picture of them in it, I’ll send it.

The sun just came out and it feels like a light got turned on. Texas

weather is crazy. It snowed in McAllen and Laredo yesterday, but not here

in Austin.

We only saw a bit of sleet. Now, it will warm up in a hurry. We

have all seasons here every day.

I am taking Karen to the movie about adolescents at school tonight

and to the dentist tomorrow. Her little teeth are still on top of each other.

May get one pulled.

The mailman is pokey today, but I’ll close in case he comes. Sort of

felt good that I got a January letter yesterday and we’re rolling in the same

year now. We can see the end just around the bend! You do make the lon-

gest trips! When can I say, “Where do we go from here, dear?”

Bye for now.

Executive Order 11216--Designation of Vietnam and waters adjacent thereto as a combat

zone for the purposes of section 112 of the Internal Revenue Code of 1954, 30 FR 5817,

3 CFR, 24 April 1965.

The Rio Grande Valley is not known for winter weather conditions. For more on histor-

ic snow events in the area, including January 1967, see “RGV Receives Widespread Snow,”

National Weather Service, 8 December 2017.

January 1967

———

149

Mucho love and kisses,

Gig

K . L

Tuesday night

10 January 1967

Hi Darling,

Got your 3–4 January letters today. I’m sure sorry to hear about Midnight.

I’d forgotten about distemper and all the shots they need. I was proud of

the way the kids took the news. That’s pretty rough. You did the right

thing taking him back to the pound.

. . .

I have to turn on the radio for the news too! Of course, we know all

about our part up here in the north, but only as far as we fly. Pat Faulkner

picked up another hit yesterday. We get quite a few when the weather is

low, and the run-in altitudes have to be low.

There’s a lot of talk about Colonel Owens going on R&R on 25 Jan-

uary and then getting transferred to Okinawa to fly C-130s. That will be a

hell of a chore for me. I’ve got to rough up all the officers’ fitness reports

for him and then break in a new commanding officer when I hardly know

what’s going on to start with. Going to be quite a struggle that’s for sure.

Excuse me—I had to stop and mix a rum and coke. No beer again.

Gee, one of these days the damn beer man will find us HERE—Chu Lai

run. . . .

Get your pen and tablet ready to order:

1. A can of you know what;

2. A case (12/24, who cares) of popcorn;

3. Sunbeam Model 555 II Shaver head (with five little

blades not three). Mine’s beginning to cut and scratch;

4. Some color shots of you or the movies you should have

been taking all this time. I just found out special services

has an 8-mm projector I can check out for two days at a

time. Now I can see if my camera works if and when I

ever get my movies back from Hawaii that I mailed on

the 20th and 23d;

5. February and January issues of Playboy.

. . .

I just made a fruitless trip. I heard that they had passed the word

Chapter Four

———

150

about the Korean Marines getting hit really hard and they needed blood

fast.

By the time I got down to sickbay, the last truck had gone and they

said they had 250 donors already and that was enough for the time being.

They never did come down to the officers’ area—99 percent pilots—we’d

have to be grounded for a couple of days. Hell, I can afford that. I won-

dered why the chopper traffic had been extra heavy tonight. They’re all

stationed about 6 kilometers south. As a matter of fact, one of my first

flight students is their forward air controller, but he’s home on emergency

leave right now. I’ll just keep it in my own bank for the time being.

Well, well, well, Mrs. Minx, a $185 ring from your boyfriend overseas.

Um, that’s not too bad! I wish I had a girlfriend that sweet—look out!

. . .

I just heard something about a big snow in Texas. Was that up in the

panhandle? Our weather here has been horrible—raining for three weeks

now—and I’ve only flown one time this month and down to my last set

of skivvies. I finally washed my clothes, but that was three days ago and

they’re still wet. I guess I just have to go out in that damn cold rain and

take a shower . . . brr. I’ll be cold for a WEEK! But you can leap over here

and warm me up! That could be a bit hazardous as I’m not sure I could

behave more than a few milliseconds, possibly a couple of microseconds,

then POW. One of my single friends going on R&R said he’d dedicate

the sixth stroke to me when he came back. Oh well, our turn will come.

PATIENCE—that’s the key word—right? Right! You sure answer fast, don’t

you?

Tired, tired, tired . . . going to bed now.

I love you, Gig.

Ray

K . L

Wednesday night

11 January 1967

Hello Darling,

The Republic of Korea deployed its Marine Corps force to Vietnam during the conflict.

They had a reputation for strict discipline; however, the results of their combat effective-

ness often varied. Jack Shulimson, LtCol Leonard A. Blasiol, Charles R. Smith, and Capt

David A. Dawson, U.S. Marines in Vietnam: The Defining Year, 1968 (Washington, DC:

History and Museums Division, Headquarters Marine Corps, 1997), 143.

January 1967

———

151

What a bonanza day from you! It is my turn to be overwhelmed again.

You sure are hard to top—as if I haven’t known that for years—in one-

upmanship. Yes, we did see that movie. I ran my poor little old legs off

over here, 16,000 kilometers away, being your errand girl and just when

I get you happy, you’re off again. Yeah, I know I asked for it. I really have

to laugh when one of your screams of “Popcorn!” or “Popper!” gets stran-

gled with a “Gee whiz, it’s here.” It’s a wonder you don’t choke on that

popcorn in embarrassment at being caught screaming. I know the noise is

bad there, but I can read, and I do react—believe it or not! I’m really closer

than you think. POW!

. . . . I saw a flashing picture of you today. I say flashing because it was

just about the biggest smile I’ve ever seen you have in a picture. Darling,

now I will be very serious. It was dandy and I plucked up my courage for

the honor of MABS-13 and all the good men there and decided to put

it in the paper. I called the paper, and they said to mail it in with brief

description (no story) and they would be “happy” to put it in. I hauled

out the trusty typewriter and wrote in my nicest typing the bare minimum

but threw in one line about “Major Stice has also been recommended for

the gold star in lieu of a second Air Medal,” and only had to cross out the

capital I made by mistake in second! Then I tore up to the dime store for

brown manila folders . . . and mailed them off with a typed one for Milly

too. I just wish I’d done that when you made major too. I could start a

clipping file on my husband! Hope it is dark enough to show in paper.

And if you get interviewed when you come home, I’ll go get my hair

done. A real concession to fame! By divine, you’re going to turn me into

a major’s wife yet!

. . .

What is “a Command Chronology for December. . . .” Slow down

there, Major, I can’t read your writing! I practically curl up inside your let-

ters trying to read them now. Good thing I asked about “TAN.” I thought

that meant tangent, like take a left at the next intersection. . . .

Anyway, I’m glad to hear the colonel cares enough to let you fly and

it does sound like you are doing fine in that department. How, with all

that rain I don’t see how, except for comments like “we recon’d while the

whole wing stood down waiting.” Here, I read in the paper, “Bad weather

—no flying—and relax.” Why don’t you do same? . . .

I could comment on the rats, rain, wind and sand, cold, and dirty con-

ditions you are working under, around, and with, but I’ll simply mutter

Chapter Four

———

152

that sounds terrible and guess that covers it all! The whole bit makes me

shudder. It’s so nice when you tell me to smile and come up for air. Your

movies sound choice too, but I haven’t gone to any in a month, so at least

you’re one up there! Sweetpie, I miss you. Life can be good. Hold the good

thoughts. We love you and you look fine in your picture, so you’ve got me

fooled.

Many kisses,

Gig

P.S. Stock market up today. The most trading since 1962.

K . L

Friday night

13 January 1967

Hi Sweetie,

This I shouldn’t do. Leave baths and a letter to you until midnight. The

reason? No reason except it was a rainy wet Friday and I ached all day long

missing you. Friday used to be such a good day too! I had my Friday at the

movies yesterday on Thursday. . . . At any rate, that left Friday empty, and I

kept thinking if Ray were here we’d go to a drive-in, rain and all. Or maybe

if I were there, we’d go to a walk-in, rain and all!

. . .

Speaking of North Carolina, I sent in the pic of you in Marine Fighter

Attack Squadron 312 (VMFA-312) in black-and-white checked ascot for

the paper. It was the only official “passport size” one I had. The big one

was overexposed and the paper said it would have come out blank. . . .

I got my ring back from the jeweler—just lovely—and picked up film,

which is enclosed. Kirk’s camera needs repair, so I’m not getting it fixed

since keeping the old one going is enough! I got a battery for it and now

can take indoor pics.

Mostly this is an I-miss-you letter. I didn’t think you’d mind if I told

you. I know I’m supposed to keep the old chin up, but right now it feels

good to let it sag. Jeepers, I can’t be chipper all the time. That’s about as

In late 1966, the Standard & Poor’s (S&P) 500 saw a 22 percent dip that bottomed out

in October as the Vietnam War escalated and the country dealt with divisive social and in-

frastructure issues along with midterm elections. The fourth quarter brought slim growth

and stocks soared to 24 percent by the beginning of 1967. See S&P 500 Price Index from

31 December 1955–31 December 1967.

January 1967

———

153

close to a wail as I’m going to get. I just wondered if you had those funny

moments where a wave of longing and “wow, it hurts” comes over you.

Worse than labor pains! Phyllis Diller says war is DUMB. D U M B.

But

that’s the light side again and I don’t feel light. Just black. B L A C K. The

worst part is that I know you have these moments too. . . . I like the way

you say it, “Forget all this CRAP” “I really do love you, you know?” Yes, I

know. Yes, yes, yes.

. . .

I MISS YOU,

Gig

K . L

Saturday night

14 January 1967

Hello Baby Doll,

Nice you have a friend in Betty Wattinger; I never met Sidney. If he’s got

secrets with the people at Phu Bai, it’s news to me. I have been over both

Tam Duc and Hue many times. We purposely fly over all the Special Forc-

es camps every day; it keeps their morale up and gets us familiar with the

areas in case they need help, it keeps Charlie aware too.

I got a good secondary this morning. After our route reconnaissance,

we still had some juice and got sent out in the hills to cover for an emer-

gency helicopter evacuation of some casualties. The helicopters were un-

able to land because of the heavy fire from a ridge line overlooking the

landing zone, so we strafed the hillside, and they were able to get in and

get the guy out and get him to the hospital. Worked really well, although

the weather was terrible—really low clouds and damn little room to ma-

neuver around the hills—and almost didn’t get joined up with the chop-

pers because the visibility was so poor, and no one got hit.

Sometimes

things work out despite the odds. Been lucky so far and never had a heli-

copter I’ve escorted get hit yet.

Remember the beagle puppy at Quantico? That’s the kind I’d get—

short haired and friendly as can be.

Phyllis Diller was a stand-up comedian who toured with Bob Hope during the conflict.

She had just performed a show for American troops in Cam Ranh Bay, Vietnam, on 6

January 1967.

For more on air support operations, see Telfer, Rogers, and Fleming, U.S. Marines in

Vietnam: Fighting the North Vietnamese, 1967, chap. 13.

Chapter Four

———

154

Send me a picture or 15 more better—of YOU—I have a real nice set

of the kids and everyone except YOU . . .

. . .

If Kirk’s camera won’t flash, take it to the camera shop. They’ll fix it.

Maybe I will get more time in Japan than I thought. The word has

changed slightly, and they are planning on two to three months out-of-

country for each squadron during the year. Mox nix [it doesn’t matter]

in-country or out, it’s all the same war and it all counts on the overseas

return date and that’s the main thing.

I’ll bet you a beer that I have the early early tomorrow morning. I ha-

ven’t missed that one yet—Sunday. Whew, I slept under two blankets last

night and can’t see any change for tonight. Cold and rainy as usual, but at

least when it’s raining the sand can’t blow, that’s a mess.

I got my second roll of movie film back yesterday—a helicopter es-

cort and digging up one of the palm trees. Not too bad. Good enough

to go ahead and shoot, and I bought three reels and film cans at the

division PX. I haven’t seen another elephant, although some of the wa-

ter buffaloes are so big you have to look twice to be sure. There’s one

really beautiful waterfall I want to get if the sun ever comes out again.

About 97 kilometers southwest, out in the wilderness, and not a village

for miles around.

Think I’ll go to the flick and go to bed early. I’m sort of tired. Good-

night, Darling, I sure miss you.

Love,

Ray

K . L

Sunday night

16 January 1967

Hi Sweet Pie,

My that was an interesting letter you wrote from the window of your of-

fice near the fuel pits! I mean that seriously. I almost felt like I was there

because it was so expressive. Your mind would flicker like an eye from the

desk to the window to the noise outside and it was like reading a movie.

You ought to be a director. Very good writing and exciting reading. I felt

like I was back at the hanger office in Beeville—a part of your world, yet

very much not a part and fearful I would interrupt you in the middle

January 1967

———

155

of something important. I stand in awe of you at work. Strange, isn’t it?

Don’t choke.

When you write that there are Viet Cong all around you, I practically

climb up in my chair and shout, “Where? Where?” Good Lord, maybe

you’d better not be that descriptive! Just joking, of course, but I do find

myself wondering if those transports got them and if General Greene got

away in time. I know he did. I heard that he said it’s [the war] going to go

on a long time, or words like that effect at Da Nang.

. . .

Yes, I guess I’ll get you a Playboy after I get license plates and lighters

for you. . . . Car still needs oil leak fixed too and the week holds a Vietnam

wives’ meeting and a dental appointment for Karen. I pulled her large

back tooth out myself and saved $4! Seems I’m a pretty good tooth puller

outer.

. . . . The bankroll reads $2,980 and it’s the middle of the month yet!

I’ll never get back to $3,000 again. I am hopelessly under the mark now.

My fat cushion is gone. It’s still cushy but not fat. No, I’m not asking for

money. It’s safer with you than here. But if anyone is going to buy a new

car when you get back, it will have to be you. I can’t seem to save here like

in Virginia.

. . .

Time to close up this book and read my lovely anthology by Thomas

B. Costain.

I tried some of Mom’s dirty books but find I really prefer

nice clean literature. Not like some people I know! What would you do

without a wife to make nice dirty digs? Heh? That’s what keeps you being

the good boy you are, that’s what! Me. I’m perfect. Thank goodness, I’ve

never been corrupted by bad men. . . .

Gig

K . L

Monday night

16 January 1967

Hi Honey,

Glad you liked the first picture. It was too light, that’s why I sent the other

Gig is referring to Thomas B. Costain, ed., Read with Me: A Personal Anthology of Memo-

rable Reading (Garden City, NJ: Doubleday, 1965).

Chapter Four

———

156

one last week. It was a lot better, except it shows our unstarched half-dirty

utility uniforms.

. . .

I don’t think I ever sent you the command chronology for December.

It got lost somewhere.

At the last count, the colonel was severely up on me. The latest is

his getting relieved Monday, 23 January. We’ll have to set up a change of

change of command ceremony, cake, coffee, imbibes, and everything for

that day, let alone all the awards I have to finish up and fitness reports of

all the other officers we haven’t done yet. I have a headache already, and

here I was just getting him broke in properly. He’ll be a lot happier flying

C-130s again in and out from Okinawa. The new commanding officer

will be a Lieutenant Colonel Gordon H. Keller. I’ve known him some-

where, but I sure don’t know where, probably Marine Corps Air Station

Cherry Point, North Carolina.

Major Berny Thomas and Major Dick Douglass finally got orders to

VMFA-115 today—that’s the first non-F-4 Phantom II pilot switch into

a squadron rotating to Japan (mid-February). Major William W. “Bill”

Mackey and I are next and we’re all relieved to see it start! They’ll be back

here about the time Bill and I should join VMFA-323 (mid-May). So, four

months more here at Chu Lai, then three months in Japan, three more

months back at Chu Lai, and home sweet home. That’s not too bad, is it?

Something to look forward to that’s for sure.

I’m glad you’re having good Texas weather. We’re sure having the

same cold monsoon dregs with driving rain day for more than a month. I

got CANKED four days in a row now.

. . .

Been real hard on A-4s, helicopters, and transports the past couple

of weeks. The Grumman F-9 Cougars best and the McDonnell Douglass

F-4 Phantom IIs next best skill in the first place and two engines in the

second place makes happy hops and aged aviators. It’s not really that cut

and dried, unfortunately, as the weather really is the predominant factor.

. . .

Better close, I’m trying to snivel in the night flare dregs. They’re on

15-minute standby now. Goodnight, Baby. I love you, popcorn and all.

(Even your cotton-picking kids.)

Love, Ray

January 1967

———

157

K . L

17 January 1967

Hi Dear,

Just a note this. It’s cold outside and Kathy doesn’t leave me alone a sec-

ond when she’s up. Drinks my coffee too!

Newspaper picture forwarded “with pleasure.” . . .

Two letters from you yesterday plus paper. Looks like Chu Lai needs

a PR man in truth! Hang Da Nang!

. . .

I saw some gray hairs today, and after a good night’s sleep too! They’re

still there. Your bosom-less wife also does not appreciate Playboy’s empha-

sis on bosoms. It will ruin you for reality, but that’s your problem, not

mine! What a drag those bosoms would be!

Gotta go.

XXXs and stuff,

Gig

K . L

Wednesday night

18 January 1967

Hi Baby,

Sorry, this is going to be short. It’s late. We’ve been putting up a wooden

TV pole for our Japanese antenna for our American (borrowed from spe-

cial services) TV. I took the lead-in wire from my neighbor’s extra slack—

the one I bought in Okinawa and sold to them. So, now we have our own

TV bloob tube—the only station is Da Nang.

Sunday afternoon, I was wet, cold, and dirty. In sheer desperation, I

went down to the unit Headquarters & Headquarters Squadron (H&HS)

metal shop and got 13 feet of three-quarter-inch stainless steel tubing. I

bent the hell out of it into a crude coil. I found a rusty 30-gallon paint

can, took it down to the welding shop, and cut holes all over it. Then I

went to motor transport and got a five-gallon can of diesel fuel, borrowed

some of Lou’s Bangkok water hose fittings, then back to the welding shop

to solder the fittings to the ends of the coil, down to the paraloft for

some canvas, and back to the carpenter shop for some more plywood and

Chapter Four

———

158

nails.

I checked in the office, because the colonel had gone home about

1730. Back at the hut, I put it all together . . . and mm, my first hot shower

since Okinawa! . . . The word sort of sneaked out and more strange noses

snooping around than I ever saw before. I finally decided the price would

be . . . a beer for a shower—a HOT shower!

Last night, Colonel Owens and Lieutenant Colonel Walter E. Do-

mina (H&MS-13 commanding officer) came down obviously dressed for

nothing BUT a shower, and soon four construction people from RMK-

RBJ showed up.

Three hot showers later—one civilian stripped down

and used his undershirt as a towel—and many borrowed beers and a slight-

ly used bottle of Chivas Regal Scotch later, I gave up the ghost and crawled

in bed about 0100. Bernie and Lou “entertained” until they left about

0300. . . . Lord, the things you have to do to produce something is unbe-

lievable.

Still cold—still raining—still CANKED—still pushing paper, rather wet

paper that you more slosh it than push it. And, we’re reduced to Korean

beer again.

Sweet Honey, I miss YOU!

Goodnight, Babysan,

Ray

K . L

Wednesday night

18 January 1967

Hi Dear,

Guess what I just watched? Bob Hope on TV in Vietnam? Right. I snug-

gled right up and saw the rain in Da Dang. And it did look wet there. Hilly

too, like mountains. Millions of men. I never saw so many. He really did

try to make the rounds and tried hard. Pleiku and Qui Nhon were on

The term paraloft refers to Navy and Marine Corps parachute maintenance facilities that

clean, dry, and pack parachute systems for expeditionary warfare and special operations

units.

RMK-RBJ was a consortium created by the U.S. Navy during the Vietnam War for

American construction support. The so-called “Vietnam Builders” included Raymond

International, Morrison-Knudsen International, Brown & Root, and J. A. Construction.

January 1967

———

159

too and a lovely shot of jets flying over Vietnam. I was jealous of the few

nurses I saw.

But last night on TV was “something else.” They had a Marine Lieu-

tenant Colonel Kunts refresher flying at Yuma, Arizona, with his wooden

leg for the first time. That made me cry. What a guy! Bald too at only 26

years in. Some things are really TOO MUCH!

. . .

Gotta go to bed. I wrapped a package of yummy longhorn chocolate

candy for you tonight and the Playboy and I’m exhausted!

I hope the

candy doesn’t start a riot. It may put your teeth out of commission like it

nearly did mine!

Bye for now, love. Shave heads—will call Sears about them tomorrow.

. . .

Candy kisses,

Gig

K . L

Monday night

19 January 1967

Hello Baby,

How it is? Been a beautiful hot day today with a tremendous blue sky, full

white clouds, and just a hair below headache level work to do. You know

the kind where your brains are going 93 different directions at the same

time and your mouth can’t quite keep up with the thoughts. No flying,

dammit. The F-9s are still sick, although they’re coming along slowly.

I have made some sweeping recommendations to the colonel that he

bought on the spot. I have to be careful there as he trusts me. He men-

tioned the other day that he would go on the record that, if I couldn’t get

in an F-4 squadron then they should let me have MABS when he gets a

squadron commanding officer’s billet. That would be fantastic—me being

the commanding officer of damn near the air station when you consider

all our varied functions—but you really need a lieutenant colonel’s horse-

power to seal your arguments effectively. Even Major David W. Morrill,

Bob Hope Christmas Special, starring Bob Hope, featuring Phyllis Diller, aired on 18

January 1967, on NBC.

Lammes Candies was famous for their Longhorns, which were Texas-size pecan turtles.

Chapter Four

———

160

as much as they respected him, lost several points for horsepower, and

everyone knew he would in fact BE a lieutenant colonel by June and I

could have the group S-1 job too. It’s up for grabs. I’d rather stay in MABS

where there’s so darn many different things going on, even after nearly

nine months of it.

. . .

Hey Sportsan, do you still love me after 12 years or are you ready to

trade me in? I’m rigged and ready to run for another 12 or whatever the

hell you want even if parts of the last 12 months have been more risky

than risqué. Anyhoo, I love you regardless, and I refuse to think anything

else.

Love Baby,

Ray

K . L

Thursday night

19 January 1967

Hello Darling,

Everything seems more orderly tonight. I’ve been home most of the day,

so I mopped and swept up a storm. It helped to take my mind off of Kar-

en. (And you I started to say!) Karen’s fever was 101 degrees this morning,

so took her to the town doctor at 0945 with Kathy too, who’s had a cough

for a month. Karen had no other symptoms, so the doctor took urinalysis

and culture again. Urinalysis was normal. Culture results tomorrow.

. . .

He took a throat culture of Kathy too. I’m glad, as it was quite thick

mucus she had. Meanwhile nose drops. She’s as chipper as a bird and

so funny these days. If you thought Kirk was a character, you should see

Kathy! In the last few days, she has smeared Crisco in her hair, potato in

her hair, and loves to play jokes on us, like sitting on both toilets until

we come find the one she did something in or scolding Kirk. My can she

scold him! . . .

. . .

The news said there was a mortar attack on an airfield “near Hue”

January 1967

———

161

tonight.

Wonder if that’s Dong Hoi, where Major Wattinger is? Glad it

wasn’t Chu Lai. But I suppose you fly around similar places, maybe there.

Best I not think about that.

. . .

I’m interested to hear if the colonel did get transferred. If so, you will

be snowed and I’ll understand if mail goes down. Had two letters Monday

but none since, so I’m ready for news again!

. . .

Candy and Playboy airmailed today. Hooray, hooray! Sears got called

too. They said the catalog didn’t specify five extra little blades, but it prob-

ably comes with the head. They’ll send them to you direct. So, the list is

getting whittled down to just a picture of me. That’s just waiting for copies

and is Mom’s department at the moment. Can you—pant, pant—wait?

All for now, Love Dove.

I love you!

Gig

K . L

Friday evening

20 January 1967

Hi Honey,

I’m still at work and got a few minutes, so hi! Thanks for those cute col-

or shots of the kids. Keep it up and take about five or six of YOU—just

YOU—next time.

. . .

Really, Gig, I do have a lot of fine pictures of the kids. Please spend a

whole roll of you just for me? Snap shots—that’s all.

I hope you sent me that razor head. Mine has starting to go rapidly

and there aren’t any spares growing in the jungle.

What would you think of a wife who mails her husband the address

of some old friends in Hawaii and then writes, “I hope you have fun in

Hawaii,” after he pleaded with her to meet him after he already had his

R&R orders and everything set up? That’s the answer Colonel Owens

Telfer, Rogers, and Fleming, U.S. Marines in Vietnam: Fighting the North Vietnamese, 1967,

Chapter Four

———

162

got from his wife. She sort of shot him down—no real obstacles—she just

“isn’t interested in Hawaii.” It sounds to me like she isn’t interested in her

husband. Crummy deal.

. . . It’s just wet and cool again today. Reconned the coast all the way

up and back and never got above 300 feet because the clouds were so

low—that’s almost precision approach radar minimums (200 feet).

All

the fishing boats turned over on the sand, hooches [huts] all closed up,

and there was damn little to see. Maybe next month the damn rain will

stop. Yesterday, I thought I had enough fuel to get an alternate mission,

and it turned out to be another one of these helicopter medical evacua-

tions. But, hell, it was more than 96 kilometers away and I just couldn’t

do it, especially with all the weather being like it’s been around here and

the fuel I had.

It’s nighttime now. The group S-1 called and said they were canceling

our change of command ceremony on Monday and we have absolutely

no idea why. Colonel Owens won’t go ask the group commanding officer

why not, but I sure as hell would.

. . .

Goodnight, Babysan. . . .

See you later, Sweet Wife.

Love You!

Ray

K . L

Saturday afternoon

21 January 1967

Hi Darling,

Would you believe two strep throats and three with 24-hour flu? Yup, it’s

been fast and furious for two days, but all is calm now. Yesterday morn-

ing, I woke up to the sounds of Robin throwing up. I took Karen’s temp

(101 degrees) and noted Kirk’s tummy ache. I thought I had two cases of

“I want to stay home with sister.” But, as Robin picked up her books for

school, she threw up again. “So, okay, you stay home.” I paced floor until

0900 and called the doctor. He got culture results on Kathy—strep—and

Precision approach radar is used by ground controllers to provide guidance to pilots

during final approach via radios.

January 1967

———

163

ordered penicillin for both Ks as Karen was complaining of sore throat

too. Kirk threw up after I was through talking with the doctor, but suppos-

itories were ordered for Robin, so I could use them for him.

. . .

It is now 1545 and no one is throwing up. No one has a fever and I

only have 10 days of penicillin to give K and K. Whew! All the clothes are

washed, floors mopped, and guess what? We’re all bored! . . .

Your two letters written Saturday and Monday were the only bright

spot all day Friday! I was thrilled with your story about helicopter support.

Such a good hop! I’m proud of you. And three months in Japan sounds

marvelous. It was great to get all that news the same week it happened prac-

tically. As you say, sometimes things work out when the odds are high. We

are both brilliant hard workers! And on top of that, we love you—don’t

throw up.

Seriously, love, all is fine here now. I wished for your strong arms, but

it seems mine worked okay. Four sick at once is a bit much though.

Must play Monopoly now.

Hard life, huh?

XXXs,

Gig

K . L

Sunday night

22 January 1967

Hi Honey,

It’s been raining for 30 days and 30 nights today, well, it is something

earth shaking when it happens to you! Bad news on my razor. It’s almost

beyond use. Did you get another head quick like? I can’t take no for an

answer on this one. It has to be a five-blade head (a three-blade head will

not fit). Mine has a big hole in it and it cuts like hell.

After our beach run this morning, I managed to find the field below

the clouds, and I called the tower about “three miles out for a straight-in.”

They said, “Negative, the field’s IFR.”

“But I have the field in sight (bare-

Prochlorperazine suppositories are used to control severe nausea and vomiting.

IFR refers to instrument flight rules, or the weather conditions are degraded and instru-

ment support is required for pilot navigation.

Chapter Four

———

164

ly) and I’m below the clouds” (barely). “Do you have the two A-4s in front

of you?” (To me) “Two A-4s?” “Negative–one.” I’m just about ready to give

up the ghost and the “other” A-4 says, “I’m rolling out” [on the runway].

Finally, the tower says, “Wait, we’ll get a special VFR clearance for you.”

About that time, I had just chopped the throttle to idle and dropped gear

flaps speed brakes and trying to convert from 350 knots clear to 150 dirty.

I said, “Forget it. I’ll go out and get a GCA.”

Then the tower says “You’re

cleared to land on number two behind the A-4.” What a mess, but I got

down okay. There was a half-hour holding pattern at Da Nang. One of the

C-130s that brought us some fuel this morning wanted it [the fuel] back so

he could get back to Da Nang!

Some parts of these hops are really something else. You’re doing

about 16 things at the same time—one eye on your instruments (bad rain

and haze outside); one eye on the hills or the water or other aircraft (and

believe me they are there frequently); one eye on your DME (mileage out);

one eye on your radial (bearing from the station) because of the naval

gunfire and artillery is all over the place where you don’t want to meet at

the same time; one eye on each hooch hole, hill trench foxhole, drainage

ditch, and cave tunnel hole because, God, they all wear black PJs and a

white straw hat. I’m pulling rolling hard turns and diving at them. If they

don’t scatter, they’re civilians; if they run, they’re Viet Cong. I popped the

zipper on my G-suit yesterday and, with every hard turn, the damn thing

would blow up and unzip some more. I felt like I was being undressed

turn after turn. By the time we got back, I was all but out of it and felt I’d

been stripped! Got back for the debriefing and the guy says, “Anything

else significant happen during the flight?” I started to tell him about the

damn G-suit and figured “forget it.” He pleaded with me, saying “If it

has any possible value, we’ll get it into the wing immediately!” I think he

thought I was holding something out on him.

The hops are really short; they only average 1 hour and 10 minutes

usually, because we’re always “on the deck” and burn a lot of fuel and

higher power settings to keep the hard turns and airspeed up so Charlie

won’t have time to “line them up and squeeze them off.” Things go so fast

usually that when you’re back, you’re not sure if you saw a particular thing

or just thought of it from some other flight.

VFR refers to visual flight rules as opposed to instrument-supported navigation.

GCA refers to a ground-controlled approach supported by air-traffic controllers.

January 1967

———

165

Boy, the next week is going to really be something. Colonel Owens is

going on R&R. The minute he leaves, I start getting chewed out by the

executive officer and the S-3. Sure is hard to tell a bird colonel he’s all

fucked up. I wanted to finish 60 missions before the end of the month,

but I don’t think I’ll make it. They don’t like me flying when the colonels

gone, although they sure do it all the time.

. . .

Well, it’s time to study the inside of my eyelids. I’m getting tired.

Goodnight, Darling. Kiss my sweet children and (kick my bad ones) (as if

I had any).

Ray

K . L

Monday night

23 January 1967

Hi Sweetheart,

My it feels good to be writing you a nice quiet evening letter. You must

have thought my last one was sort of a ding dong. Well, things are indeed

better. I took the girls one to the doctor today . . . and the blood count

showed Karen had a “virus” that “sort of peters out by itself” and penicil-

lin doesn’t help it. But she’s getting some penicillin pills anyway to keep

her from getting Kathy’s strep. Her fever was 100 degrees at noon and

going down. Probably be all well by Wednesday and able to have her two

teeth pulled Friday. . . .

. . .

I saw an article about I Corps in the paper about an O-1 Bird Dog

“riding herd” the paper said on 40 Viet Cong until they called in Air

Force North American F-100 Super Sabres and got them.

. . .

I really enjoyed the female Turkish jet jockey story; but, gosh, she

doesn’t sound human!

I think the Sea Tiger is a better paper too, than

Stars and Stripes. . . .

For more on Air Force support of ground troops during the period, see John Schlight,

The United State Air Force in Southeast Asia: The War in South Vietnam—The Years of the Of-

fensive, 1965–1968 (Washington, DC: Air Force History and Museums Program, 1999).

Gig may be referring to a news story about Sabiha Gökçen, a Turkish aviator who is

recognized as the first female combat pilot. See “An Historical Heroine: A Row over the

Ethnicity of a Turkish Icon,” Economist, 25 March 2004.

Chapter Four

———

166

The weather here turned unexpectedly balmy today. It felt so good and

even Karen said it was “romantic” weather that made her think of the past

and “one night cooking outdoors eating marshmallows and popsicles.”

That’s her version of romance! She was awfully glad to hear you’re getting

“five months” away from Chu Lai. She counts like I do.

. . .

Have to close a letter to you. I’d rather keep writing, but hang up I

must.

Kisses and things,

Gig

K . L

Tuesday

24 January 1967

Dear Heart,

Rather than sit down and stew by myself, I decided to write you that the

car needs $75 worth of work. There, it’s said! Sort of a low blow I just got.

And I said yes, go ahead. It needs major work because of the oil leak, the

engine needs to be pulled, etc.

. . .

The main reason I thought you should know about the work and all

is because you must save your money while I am unable to! I looked ahead

and figured some of the expenses I’ll be facing by next month:

$2,814.84 Bank balance

- $275.00 Car and house payment

$2,539.84

- $50.00 Karen’s teeth (approximate)

$2,489.84

- $25.00 Doctor’s bill (approximate)

$2,464.84

Not to mention new car license plus dental bills for Robin and Kirk if

I start them (and should). Sooner or later, we’ll need spring and summer

clothes, and there’s always the chance that something else might break

down.

So, my point is, just because you can’t spend your loot there, be thank-

ful and save it and that will make me feel better on this end.

January 1967

———

167

. . .

Now, in comparison, don’t your troubles look small? I really got a big

charge out of your Tuesday night at the shower party. How typical of you

to try so hard to fix a hot shower that you actually succeed and end up

making money, beer, and friends in the process!

I knew they were lucky to have Ray Stice over there! Don’t let them

wear out MY MAN though. He belongs to me, or so the marriage license

says. Strictly on loan to the Marine Corps for one year.

Sweet Kirk is home. My healthy one! And you stay healthy too. We’ll

ship the wealthy and make the wise. Okay? That’s affirm. This one is mere-

ly signed.

WIFE

K . L

Wednesday night

25 January 1967

Hi Darling,

I missed writing last night because I had to get ready for this morning’s

change of command ceremony. Colonel Owens got relieved by a Major

Morrill and left for seven days R&R in Bangkok. His wife never did want

to meet him in Hawaii and both the R&R and his transfer came up at the

same time. The new commanding officer is a lieutenant colonel selectee

who will probably put the silver leaves on in May or June. Really nice guy

and quite sharp—F-4 qualified.

It will be nice to work for a fighter pilot

for a change. We couldn’t shut down the whole operation, so we only had

200 (of 700) people for the ceremony, but it went off okay. The group

commanding officer even said a few words, which is unusual for him.

. . .

The Texas candy and Playboy arrived in rapid shape (beautifully edible

too). Thank you all. . . . The hole in my razor is getting bigger. Did you

order from Sears? They have them at all big drug stores.

Had the stupidest picture taken today. Colonel Petty, the group com-

According to the command chronology, Maj Morrill relieved Owens on 25 January. See

MABS-13 Command Chronology, 1–31 January 1967, Marine Corps Archives, History

Division, Quantico, VA; and Capt John C. Chapin, USMCR, A History of Marine Fighter

Attack Squadron 115 (Washington, DC: History and Museums Division, Headquarters Ma-

rine Corps, 1988).

Chapter Four

———

168

manding officer, wants office/desk shots of all his officers—rather seri-

ous—like for your ID card only sitting at your desks.

. . .

Tet comes soon.

Good for some (them), probably not so good for us.

I don’t really trust their Lunar New Year. It would be a good time to make

us look stupid like they tried at Phu Bai on our New Year.

You sure that wasn’t one of my high school pictures you sent to the

paper? I don’t recognize that young feller. Now, there’s a gray-headed so-

and-so I know over here and people will think war is really rough. Whew,

look how he’s aged when you see this next picture.

. . .

Stice is referring to Tet Nguyen Dan, or the festival of the Lunar New Year, which is the

most important holiday for the Vietnamese. It begins with the first new moon of the lunar

calendar and ends 15 days later on the first full moon, usually sometime between 21 Janu-

ary and 20 February on Western calendars.

Figure 23. Maj Ray Stice seat-

ed at his desk, Chu Lai

Source: Stice family collection.

January 1967

———

169

Would you object strenuously if I just Zzz and went to bed? I’m tired,

Baby. My eyeballs are winning the fight . . .

Goodnight, Honey, it’s been a long day for some reason. See you,

gator–later.

Love,

Ray

K . L

Thursday night

26 January 1967

Hello, Darling Wet Sweet,

You might as well face it, the monsoons will last six weeks they say. So,

heat up that hotsu bath-Japanese style, if necessary.

First, just so you can commiserate with me, I have been sick. Yeah,

the damn bug got me last night after a nice fried chicken dinner. . . . I

told Robin to stay home and take care of the baby, as Karen wasn’t strong

enough. She relished the idea and the girls ended up cleaning kitchen

closets, fixing coffee and lunch. They urged Jell-O on me like I urged it on

them. Now I know! No Jell-O! By noon, I was human again and ate three

helpings of spaghetti for dinner brought over by Mom. I defy bugs!

The car came back. It was $84 instead of $75. . . .

But enough about cars and bugs. Guess what I saw on the Huntley-

Brinkley [show] tonight? Chu Lai! Mostly the inside of the sandbagged

radar hut as they were showing him [the reporter] how “pilots can drop

bombs they can’t see.” Radar men can direct planes they can’t see and it’s

rather frightening. They interviewed a Lieutenant Michado.

They didn’t show the base itself, just the outside of the hut, the radar

screen, instruments in the hut, and the voice of a pilot. Not your voice!

The children saw it too. Oh yes, there was a shot of the planes taking off

and one landing. . . .

There was another story about a cave that had to be blown up despite

Gig is referring to The Huntley-Brinkley Report, an evening news program anchored by

Chet Huntley in New York City and David Brinkley in Washington, DC. It aired on NBC

from 29 October 1956 until 31 July 1970.

Chapter Four

———

170

women and children hostages somewhere in your area, maybe south.

Well, enough about that. Just stay alert.

. . .

You never mentioned getting or using the screening or air mattress I

sent way back in September. What, you no like?

Kirk and I wonder if we should mail a box of clothes to you—his

size and maybe girls’ stuff too for an orphan. Could you handle that

and should we do it? Seems to me we ought to do something for the

children over there, and it might start the ball rolling for others in their

classes.

. . .

Gotta go to bed. Lots of thoughts, but none to put on paper. So,

I’ll put them to bed and think about you. Last night, I kept thinking he

wouldn’t go for me tonight, and I was so cold, and well yes full of bugs, but

darling they were such nice clean bugs.

Your pictures were mailed to Milly, and Robin wrote her that she

loved her MUUMUU dress and “I where it all the time.” Best you and

Robin go to spelling class together. Oh yes, report cards in and all fine.

Both girls got check pluses in art. A few “needs to improve” in spelling

and arithmetic for all.

And a round of kisses for you.

Gig

K . L

Friday night

27 January 1967

Hi Baby,

Sit down first. . . . Seated?

Happy new crisis year to your strep throats. I’m not sure I could have wait-

ed as long as you did. “HELP” was definitely in order. . . . I guess that’s

one of the benefits of being overseas. Your loving wife gets to clean up all

the messes solo. Brother, what a battle with kids all going at the same. . . .

Gig may be referring to incidents eventually revealed in an October 2003 report by the

Toledo Blade, “Rogue G.I.’s Unleashed Wave of Terror in Central Highlands.” See John

Kifner, “Report on Brutal Vietnam Campaign Stirs Memories,” New York Times, 28 De-

cember 2003.

January 1967

———

171

I wouldn’t even try to say who had the roughest deal, but yours isn’t a bed

of roses and I damn sure know that.

We’re plodding along here. Our new commanding officer is a whiz

and going to be just great. He’s just tearing at the bit to get airborne. I told

him that we all liked to try to fly once a day, and he just shook his head

like he never heard of anything else. He knew Colonel Paul K. German

somewhere and Major Clifton C. Williams.

He, the boss, flew for the

Air Force Operational Test and Evaluation Center at Albuquerque, New

Mexico, and was damn near an astronaut.

Sitting? Things are picking up around here quite a bit. I’m not sure

how much we’ll be in the papers, just remember where we are and which

province.

Are you seated yet? We’re talking about Quang Ngai. Should be some

good hops coming up—more scratchy.

Did you send me the Texas candy and the brownies? Man, they are

really good and quite in demand. I had to invoke “mine not yours” on the

rest of the hut. Can’t say I didn’t warn you that one of these days I might

ask you what you think of Honolulu too, but the time would be rather

short at only seven days total with one day for travel to, one day for travel

from, and five days in Hawaii. Hell, I’m ready for R&R, aren’t you too?

I just have to convince two key personnel of the fact: the new command-

ing officer and Pris. She’s had it up to here with kids from rear echelon

troops. Like how much should a retired lady be subjected to? Cost is some-

thing else, probably about $500 to get you there and back home air coach.

And one HELL of a ride for me from Da Nang to Pearl Harbor. You ask

your boss, and I’ll ask mine for 23 February (both fly to Honolulu), 24th

through 28th (you know what), and 1 March (both fly home).

Taksan [I’ll pay] trouble. Are you game? At a $100 per day to just get

there, you sure wouldn’t want the curse, would you? Anyway, do some

basic arithmetic and if the dates are good—Pris is willing and my boss

agrees—why NOT!

Marine Corps Maj Williams was a naval aviator and test pilot who was training as part of

the National Aeronautics and Space Administration’s (NASA) cohort of astronauts for the

Gemini and Apollo missions. Williams was killed on 5 October 1967 when his Northrup

T-38 Talon jet trainer malfunctioned between Cape Canaveral, FL, and Houston, TX. He

was forced to eject, but he was traveling too low and too fast to survive the landing.

Chapter Four

———

172

Goodnight, Hilo Hattie!

Well, just a bit of explanation is in order

I’m sure. The R&R quotas for February came out today and I thought,

hmm, the skipper will have been here about a month and have his feet

pretty well on the ground. I’ll have been here for more than four months.

Why not? . . . They give us just about one quota a week to Hawaii and

the 23d just happened to be the last one in February. That’s the only real

reason I thought about that particular date. . . . The only thing is, the

quotas don’t come out for March until about the last few days in February

like this one.

The end of February is not a particularly good season in Hawaii, nor

will I be able to pick up my clothes in Okinawa. One shirt, one trouser,

that’s all I have. You need shots too probably.

HEY, SOMEONE HELP

GIG OFF THE FLOOR. . . .

. . .

Snooze time, Honey.

I LOVE YOU!

Still, yet, even regardless!

Ray

K . L

Sunday night

29 January 1967

Hello Dear,

I feel like I haven’t heard from you in days and days just because it’s the

weekend, I guess. I got your 22 January Noah’s ark letter—30 days and 30

nights of rain. Noah’s was 40, I think, and the hairy landing story about

two airplanes ahead you and you only seeing one. That sounds like me.

Awfully glad you got down in one sentence, “I got down okay.” That’s

really putting it mildly for a man who just got dezippered too!

. . .

I called Sears about your razor head. They said the order went to

Dallas and maybe to the West Coast and couldn’t say when I’d get confir-

Hilo Hattie, born Clarissa Haili, was a comedian, actress, singer, and dancer. Her name

is now synonymous with a large chain of retail stores offering Hawaiian-themed goods.

The International Certificate of Inoculation and Vaccination was established in 1933 to

protect people traveling and to prevent the importation and dissemination of infectious

diseases across borders.

January 1967

———

173

mation (maybe a month). So, here’s hoping it’s the right one and that you

get it. If not, get one flown in from Okinawa. Surely someone could get

one to you. But one is on the way.

. . .

I hope things are okay for you there. I know there’s been some fight-

ing going on from the news and I’m trying hard not to worry. MAN, that’s

a full-time job. As if that wouldn’t curl my hair, but it doesn’t, and I need

a permanent badly. My next project then is ME.

Goodnight, Sweet.

Or good morning, XXXs,

Gig

K . L

Sunday night

29 January 1967

Hi Sweetheart,

Well, you’ve had a couple of days to think about it. What do you say, “Ha-

waii or bust?” Are you with it? Or against it? Think positively, Dozo. This

afternoon while we were waiting for two F-4s to finish their emergencies,

I hit him—gently of course—with “sort of interested in R&R after he’d

had a chance to get squared away, maybe a ‘month’ or so.” I’ll hit him

tomorrow with the actual date, 23 February. Boy, you’d better be right

biologically. You really need a quick check along those lines.

You would want air coach to Honolulu to arrive early in the after-

noon of 22 February. I’ll get reservations at the Ilikai Hotel for you $15

per day and have them send you a duplicate receipt so you can walk in and

be all taken care of. The R&R center run by the U.S. Army is only a block

away, and I’ll arrive anytime that evening or night.

I’ll give you the R&R

phone number. We’ll rent a car and have a real, honest honeymoon for

the first belated time in our lives. No in-laws, no children, just the two of

us. Now that’s a challenge—a bit late—but why NOT.

As far as your reservation back, let’s play that by ear for now. It will

either be the 1st or 2d of March.

Now, how’s them apples? Put your money where your mouth is . . .

Stice may be referring to the Pililaau Army Recreation Center, which was part of the

Armed Forces Recreation Centers system to support military personnel around the world.

Chapter Four

———

174

put up or shut up . . . shine on oh jealous eyes. You know, what the hell,

let’s do it! I hate to think all this depends on your marks on the calendar!

Oh well, I’m broad-minded—I married one. I’m patient, well to a point,

and I love my wife. What better chance do or will I have to show you that.

. . .

[Stice provided lyrics intended to be sung to the tune of “Rye Whis-

key” by Tex Ritter]

1. Throw up and diapers and medicine too—to hell with

them all—all I can think of is you oo, oo, oo! 2. (contin-

ue) From Vietnam to Texas is a long, long way. We’ll

meet in Hawaii, with hooray – Who ray . . . 3. Standby

for a monster from out of the trees; his soul purpose in

life is you to please. 4. He loves you to pieces from hand

to toe; you say the word and we’ll go, go, go. 5. From Chu

Lai to Austin, this plea is sung; you give me your answer

and we’ll have fun. 6. A honeymoon a honeymoon we’ve

never had . . . swaying palms and luaus can’t be all that

bad.

Enough? Okay?

Love,

Ray

K . L

Tuesday

31 January 1967

Dear Husband,

Mama Mia! You do like to shake the dice, don’t you? I was sitting down

when I read your letter, but I still had one part of my brain on Kirk’s

104-degree strep throat.

. . .

Offhand, I’d say March would be easier for me to make a Hawaii trip

financially and physically. Finances are $2,483.95 with all bills paid at

the moment (except for the doctor). With $363 deposited on 1 February,

Stice provided these lyrics, which were intended to be sung to the tune of “Rye Whis-

key,” recorded by Tex Ritter, released on 15 March 1933.

January 1967

———

175

that’s $2,846.95. I always pay the rent on the last day of the month, so

really it would be $2,646.95 left for February. I figure I’ll need some new

clothes before I could make the trip. That’s right, Daddy-o, new clothes.

You don’t want an old hag for a drag, do you? Plus, I need a permanent.

. . .

Everyone else says, “Great, go,” including the kids who are quite ro-

mantic at the idea. Oh man! And I even like the idea until it scares me

to pieces. Who’s going to lead me around if I get lost? I’ve never been any

place alone in my life except Dallas, New York, Mexico, and Japan a long

time ago! Sometimes I wish you were a bank clerk. How do you put a girl

from 1955 into 1967 minus her four kids?

. . .

But back to us. Let me see how the curse goes or comes and you tell

me about your finances. Yeah, it’s your turn! And if March would be better

or worse—and I can do it either way—but after this hellish January, I’m too

pooped to make a quick decision. Meanwhile, I’ll call the travel agency

. . . and get an estimate, places to stay, etc.

Yes, you got in the news tonight—Quang Ngai—was that you?

You,

meaning you and/or Chu Lai. So glad you’ve got a good boss, and you’re

sounding quite cheerful. It must be the Texas candy. I knew that might

cause a riot and tried to warn you. But, hmm, a nice riot. More for your

next good deed. No, seriously, I’ll keep sending it if you want some more.

But, I don’t want to be responsible for any cavities!

Must go to bed now. Your letters help a lot, do you know that? I miss

you, Dear. Enough maybe even to go to Hawaii.

XXXs,

Gig

K . L

Tuesday night

31 January 1967

Hi Darling,

I’m not sure where January went, but zoom it’s done gone! . . .

Gig may be referring to news reports stemming from small unit actions taking place

in southern I Corps during the period. See Telfer, Rogers, and Fleming, U.S. Marines in

Vietnam: Fighting the North Vietnamese, 1967, 51–52.

Chapter Four

———

176

Is 23 February a good date? I need orders, hotel reservations, money,

and all kinds of things here, so write soon! I’m using the 23d for plan-

ning purposes anyway. Is it a noncurse week? That’s the million-dollar

question!

I’ve been flying every day since the boss took over, and he started yes-

terday. I fly in the mornings, and he flies in the afternoon. For as close to

being an astronaut as he was, he is a real nice boss and just as demanding

as I am. We’ll get some of the squadron moving good, that’s been a bit

slow. The trouble of people and parts is still our biggest problem. We keep

ordering and never seem to get much in, except the beans and bullets.

. . .

Our briefs have been something else. Yesterday, we were woken up

at 0430—hell, it was still nighttime when we got to our area—and this

morning we got awakened at 0500 for a 0505 brief. Talk about scrambling

about madly in the dark. I took my own damn flashlight this time, since

the plane captains didn’t have any.

I guess for the next three weeks I won’t be able to think of anything

except R&R and YOU in Honolulu. This way, we both get R&R. You’ve

never had any before either, have you? R&R—that means release from

responsibilities. Is Pris up to it? So much depends on so many things, and

I have to wait two weeks just to find out. I’ll go nutty waiting. Why don’t

you send me a telegram with YES, YES, YES on it? That would cut off a

week of the anxiety.

I’m so tired, I have to stop and get some sleep as I’m just as likely

to have to get up at 0430 again as not. I got my first Vietnamese haircut

today. I told him “a little off the top.” He thought I said “a little on the

top,” and that’s what he did . . . no more curls—sorry about that. You

never told me I had hairy arms. Part of it must be the dark lighting. Hey,

bug Sears, Dozo. I really do need the razor head—now! Like two weeks ago!

The damn nob is almost all the way across now and really sharp.

Goodnight, Sweetheart Baby Doll—Hawaii?

Say HI DOZO.

More better,

Anxiously,

Ray

———

177

FEBRUARY 1967

Wednesday night

1 February 1967

Hello Darling,

. . .

Life is definitely rosier. Sweet Kirk’s temperature is down, though he’s lost

his voice temporarily.

. . .

Kathy is bubbling with laughter and cuteness again; Karen’s cheeks

are pink and bright; and Robin is stowing food away minus vegetables as

usual.

Mom brought Kirk a plastic airplane kit to assemble—the really easy

kind—and he did it all alone and was quite proud of himself. It’s a bit

crooked on the stand, which he insists is the way it was made not his er-

ror! Obviously, I can’t criticize his first model airplane.

I watched a TV documentary called To Save a Soldier tonight showing

the helicopter and medical evacuation airlifts, and it was very moving.

To Save a Soldier, directed by Walker Stuart, narrated by Henry Fonda, aired on 24 Oc-

tober 1966 and late January 1967, on ABC. This documentary depicts the rescue of a

wounded American soldier in Vietnam, his helicopter transport to a combat medical cen-

ter, and finally to a hospital in the United States.

Chapter Five

———

178

was especially interesting to me after you have written about sometimes

helping those to land. Everyone seems so capable, energetic, and brave.

. . .

Will close now, this being a pretty darn good report after that lousy

month of January! I am much encouraged.

My love to you and all the troops over there! How about that? I’m

proud you are with them.

XXXs and hugs,

Gig

K . L

Tuesday night

2 February 1967

Hello there,

Got your buggy letter today, and I’m glad the kids took good care of you.

Don’t you dare bring any to Hawaii! I’m as pure as the driven sand, and

we have the driven sand to prove it. . . .

So, I’ll commiserate a little bit but not too much. We have some pret-

ty potent bugs out here too. Several of the officers and enlisted both are

down with some tough one.

I must say your Fridays are always interesting—way up or way down—

while mine are all so simple it hurts. You either get to fly or not usually;

although, I’ve been doing fairly well there. Today was number 58. We

didn’t get to shoot like a couple of days ago. I had a really good close, and

I do mean close, air support of troops on the ground and lots of fire.

Nice gal you are, sending me the bill for the car just when I’m think-

ing in terms of hundreds of dollars, and you send me that paltry $85

bill—not a pimple on a pumpkin. Good timing, Old Miss.

One of these days, the enlisted magazine Leatherneck will run an ar-

ticle on Marine close air support here at Chu Lai.

I almost took the

photographer up myself, but the skipper said no. One is enough, and I’d

already flown that day.

Your screening and air mattress I’m saving. I don’t need the air mat

Leatherneck published an article in May 1968 about close air support, one year after Ray

made this prediction, and republished it in June 2022. Maj Harvey D. Bradshaw, “Tigers

in the Sky,” Leatherneck, June 2022, 49–53.

February 1967

———

179

because I have a 3.5-inch foam rubber mattress over a 5/8-inch plywood

board now and it’s okay. And a GI net works fine, I may need them some-

time. There are a hell of a lot of moves coming up starting in May, you

know.

I’ll ask the civil affairs officer about the children’s clothes. They wear

mostly straw hats and black P.J.s like their Viet Cong cousins.

Colonel Owens got back from Bangkok—not too impressed—and took

his small Japanese icebox I had borrowed temporarily. But my aerologist

just came back from Japan today with a starting relay switch that I needed

for one of the broken-down American boxes. We have 19 we can’t fix.

Don’t run off to bed and not put your thoughts down. What am I, a

mind reader? I’d take you hot or cold—bugs, um—well, leave the bugs . . .

in Texas, and when we see each other in Honolulu, it will be well worth it.

I’m worried about the clothes I’ll not have to wear in Hawaii. All my

damn clothes are locked up in Okinawa, and we sure won’t be stopping

there. I’ll be riding a contract jet—Pan Am, probably—to Hawaii. How

about YOU? That’s the QUESTION OF THE MONTH. How about

YOU? Hm? . . .

Whew, it’s getting really cold outside, Baby. I hope they don’t choose

tonight. That damn bunker would be for the rats, not for me. Actually,

the night before Tet—Wednesday, 8 February—is the most likely night for

their purposes. Clobber someone and then have about a week’s “truce”

to pray about it.

We’ve been working the hell out of them around here.

They want in here, they gotta pay the price of admission and it isn’t cheap.

Honey Baby, where in hell is my razor head, the five-bladed Sunbeam?

This monster is eating me alive (Model 555 II). There must be a million

shops there in Austin. Hell, they had them in that tiny place in Quantico.

. . .

Honolulu or BUST! Yeah, that’s the code word. . . .

See you later, Honey.

(Has more meaning doesn’t it?)

Love,

Ray

Maj Gary L. Telfer, LtCol Lane Rogers, and V. Keith Fleming Jr., U.S. Marines in Vietnam:

Fighting the North Vietnamese, 1967 (Washington, DC: History and Museums Division,

Headquarters Marine Corps, 1984), 10.

Chapter Five

———

180

K . L

3 February 1967

Dear Daddy-o,

This is your wife talking to you now. I just got unfairly accused of putting

Kirk’s racing track in the garage, which I did because the damn thing was

in the WAY! And if the track fell off, well, it was half off anyway. Just be

thankful it wasn’t THROWN AWAY.

Kirk says he is going to beat me up if I throw it away.

It is Friday, and the curse is right on time. I always wonder why my

body just won’t move on mornings like this and then I find out. I have

the old motor running now, but the bed looks good. Kirk did get another

shot yesterday and will probably be all well by Monday, but he still has a

low fever. He feels much better and is wild to get another model to build.

. . .

Not much else new. I am waiting for your letter. I checked to see if I

could get a shaver head for you at the drug store, but even they said they

would have to order one. So, if the Sears one is wrong or doesn’t get there,

best you just get a new shaver or let me send you one. Tell me what you

think.

Must close now.

All my love,

Gig

K . L

Sunday night

5 February 1967

Hi Honey,

The mailman must have the flu. He sure isn’t putting out. No razor head,

not a letter in four days . . .

I didn’t write last night because I got smashed, clobbered, whatever

you call it . . . the last thing I remember was looking at the clock. Thank

the Lord, it said 1010 or thereabouts, as it could just as well could have

been 0500. But fortunately, it was a decent hour. We had the grand open-

ing of our club and a real live Australian singer with some Chinese rock-

and-rollers who were quite good. It takes a lot of guts to have a single gal

entertain like that out here.

February 1967

———

181

The Headquarters & Maintenance Squadron’s (H&MS) schedule of-

ficer is twice blessed—he gave me a stately 0930 brief in lieu of his usual

0500 Sunday morning blast. Lots of action around here. It started out

with a helicopter escort and ended up close support with another heli-

copter on an emergency extraction of some sort after a 240-kilometer wild

goose chase out over the mountains. The wing coordinator told us 113

kilometers—he meant 27 kilometers—and gave us the wrong frequency to

boot, like 301.5 instead of 3015.1, you know. What a mess . . . but not too

bad overall.

Oh man, I’ve been having the wildest dreams about you lately. . . I’m

hanging on pins and needles about 23 February. I guess I won’t know

until the last damn minute. I guess I can CANK [cancel] out at the last

minute if it isn’t a good date for one reason or another. There’s just no

way to tell, but I’m going ahead for planning purposes.

Today was number 60 at last. I missed a couple last month—couple of

weeks that is. Remember you used to hear “the 50-mission crush” on the

World War II Air Force hats.

The only thing that’s crushed is my pillow.

I’ve never slept through so much noise and sand and crap in all my life. I

hit that damn bed like a ton of bricks and ZAP, like gone. Thank the Lord

for eating, sleeping, and the privilege of working hard.

Good night, Darling.

See you later,

Ray

K . L

Sunday night

5 February 1967

Dear Sweetie Pie,

If it will make you stop spouting poetry, jumping up and down like a

puppy dog, and swinging through trees like an ape-man, I will come to Ha-

waii, YES. Now, settle down. I had been pretty sure you would stick with

MABS-13, Command Chronology (ComdC) February 1967, Box __, Folder 077,

1201077121, U.S. Marine Corps History Division Vietnam War Documents Collection,

Vietnam Center and Sam Johnson Vietnam Archive, Texas Tech University.

The term 50-mission crush refers to an Army Air Corps, or Air Force, service cap with

the stiffening ring removed, and it is worn crushed and battered as a symbol of what the

wearer had survived.

Chapter Five

———

182

the original plan just because you hate alternates and because you knew

you’d have to make the decision for me—right or wrong—allowing me the

barest of minimums to say no. Yes, I’m familiar with Ray Stice tactics, and

I had my yes all lined up when your letters and pictures arrived. But I did

sleep on it several nights, and I checked with Mom one more time. Now,

it seems I am going to Hawaii, and everyone is congratulating me!

I have my Hawaiian lights turned on and my hair appointment to-

morrow for a permanent. This major step taken care of will get me headed

for dress shops and maybe I can turn into something worth seeing. This

was my major drawback, the truth being that when you go away my looks

go away. Maybe it was the combination of the three weeks of kid’s illness,

. . . but I sure was (am) at the moment a MESS. House clean, kids well,

and I’m a MESS. So, I start tomorrow on the major overhaul and just hope

it’s not too late.

. . .

Well, anyway, that’s why I didn’t call but will tomorrow morning and

then I can give you my plans. Glad you gave me the name of a hotel as that

will give us a meeting place for sure!

Ready, gosh yes, I’m ready. Ready for R&R that is. At this point, it’s

still almost too much to believe, but I did let myself be pleased when I

read in today’s paper that Waikiki is one of the world’s best beaches.

Who

said beggars can’t be choosers?

I’ll bring along some extra clothes for you if you want?

I’m going to take the kids to Mom’s house and have her get a taxi for

them and see if that will help some so she won’t have to keep two houses

running. Gotta leave her about $100 or so for expenses.

It’s still a blur, but the main thing is GO.

And in the meantime, it’s bedtime. One thing for sure—the next two

and a half weeks will be wonderful just thinking about it, won’t they? Just

plain old wonderful.

Goodnight, Dear,

Gig

K . L

Waikiki Beach is almost 100 percent manufactured. See Robert L. Wiegel, “Waikiki

Beach, Oahu, Hawaii: History of Its Transformation from a Natural to an Urban Shore,”

Shore and Beach 76, no. 2 (Spring 2008): 3–30.

February 1967

———

183

Monday

6 February 1967

Darling,

Tippecanoe and Ilikai too! Roger, 22 February, all confirmed.

. . .

Costs $337. How about them apples! You just made a dream come

true.

I’m terribly excited now and you should have seen me dancing around

the house this morning. It was snowing outside—yup, a freak snow storm

dumped six inches on us this morning.

I started to write you that it was

raining last night but decided that wasn’t news. It was news when the kids

woke me up and said there was snow, and I hopped out and drove them

to school. They got out at 1330, but it had stopped by then. Anyway, it was

fun to be dreaming of sunshine while the snow fell. What a contrast! The

mailman arrived at 0830, but I had my YES all ready for him and you. . . .

. . .

Many [wives] are charging their trips or draining their bank accounts. I

think we can do it pretty easily, and we are very fortunate.

Mom is loaning me her luggage, and we charge out to get clothes

when the weather clears a bit. My permanent got delayed today, but it

comes off/on Wednesday.

You can get a whole new razor in Hawaii, so make do! Surely someone

will donate a razor to a guy on a first honeymoon! And anyway, the arrest-

ing crew all looked like pirates, so you can call them Bluebeards Crew!

All children completely well today, and they found a stray CAT.

Goodnight, Angel. I wrote Milly the news and must get some beauty

sleep for my beast.

XXXs,

Gig

K . L

“February 1967,” Weatherwise 20, no. 2 (1967): 78–81, https://doi.org/10.1080/00431672

.1967.9941095.

Chapter Five

———

184

Tuesday

7 February 1967

Darling,

Thanks for your cheering letter. Funny that you said, “Don’t run off to

bed without putting your thoughts down.” Tonight, I felt like doing just

that. I got hit with a sudden case of the blues tonight. Fine thing too with

the kids well, Hawaii bound, and all. The darndest things set me off. I

called a girl up who is due to go on R&R on 27 February—a captain’s

wife—and she said, “We’ve only been in the Service three years and he’s a

captain already. I think he’s doing really well, don’t you?” I nearly choked

but said, “Yes.” I then got weepy thinking how many years we’ve been in

and where is it getting us? What do I say, mine’s been in 17 years and he’s

a major? Somehow, I can’t help but feel bitter at the Marine Corps and

want even more for you to get out. They’re just so slow with promotions!

. . .

I know I need a good talking to. I guess you’re going to have to

straighten me out in Hawaii. Right now, that’s the only bright spot on the

horizon, if I can ever get myself in shape to go! There I go again. Still not

quite out of the weeps. Please forgive. I’m really quite fine and know that

seeing you will do wonders for me. I thought maybe I’d tell you all this,

so you’ll have some good answers for me. It’ll be nice for a change to have

you know all the answers.

I guess you’ll never ask me to put my thoughts down again! Really was

kind of funny you saying that. It was just like having a shoulder to cry on.

You’re so darn cute sometimes. You know what I thought after that poem?

Oh my God, you nut! And I had to laugh because it was so awful! So awful

it was funny. You always could make me laugh, just when I thought I’d

never do it again. What can you do when you are married to a man who

makes you laugh. That’s an awful advantage to have. Very hard on my

stone face act. Over and out—way out—about you.

Feeling better (sniff) too,

Promotion issues within the Marine Corps is not new. The Commandant of the Marine

Corps attempts to address these issues in Gen David H. Berger, Talent Management 2030

(Washington, DC: Headquarters Marine Corps, 2021).

February 1967

———

185

K . L

Tuesday night

7 February 1967

Hi Honey,

I’m glad to hear that Kirk, Robin, Karen, and Kathy are all better. That’s

a real drag when they are sick. I’m really proud of Kirk for making his

first model airplane. Mine [plane] was sick today. The IFF [identification

friend or foe transponder] is an identification feature in the aircraft that

helps a radar operator tell who’s who. Well mine was malfunctioning and

putting out an emergency pattern on everyone’s radar scopes this after-

noon, and I didn’t know it. He must have chased us all over I Corps but

finally, as we were on our way back to Chu Lai, all of a sudden, I look out

my right wing and here’s this damn camouflaged Air Force interceptor

care of the old McDonnell F-101 Voodoos.

I knew in a second what it

was. First time that has ever happened to me! He wanted to know if we

needed a hand off to Chu Lai or if were we out of fuel. Glad to see some-

one was on the ball though. The system really worked, but I damn sure

downed the aircraft!

Yesterday, we got a really good alternate mission out in the moun-

tains. Some people were hit bad, and we escorted three helicopters out to

pick them up. Finally found the place and, when the first one landed on a

ridge line, he got shot right through the [aircraft] canopy (no injury). We

had the friendly’s mark their positions and strafed the tree line where the

fire came from about six times and there wasn’t any more shooting after

that. Then the helicopters loaded up and lifted and we escorted them

back to the BUMED.

Our own “To Save a Soldier” and I forgot to take

my camera!

How do you put a gal from 1955 into 1967? Kick her in the butt, that’s

how! Build a fire under her, that’s how! Don’t worry about the money—

just write a check. They don’t bounce. It should be about $358 round

trip coach from San Antonio. Get reservations to be there about 1400

on 22 February. I’ll take care of the hotel reservations at the Ilikai Hotel

The term interceptor refers generically to a fighter whose design and armament is best for

intercepting and defeating or routing invading fighters.

BUMED refers to the U.S. Navy’s Bureau of Medicine and Surgery. See Jan K. Herman,

Navy Medicine in Vietnam: Passage to Freedom to the Fall of Saigon (Washington, DC: Naval

History and Heritage Command, 2010).

Chapter Five

———

186

just a block from the R&R center and only a few blocks from Waikiki.

Now that’s all settled, I can think about something else for a while (a

joke, son, a joke). It’s only two weeks from tomorrow yet!

Would you believe someone broke my shower already? I got all stripped

down last night and thud—no aqua caldo [no hot water]—broken by some

dolt. So, if I’m slightly odoriferous in Hawaii, you’d be understanding?

Colonel Owens, who leaves on 15 February for Okinawa, insisted on

playing poker until 0200 this morning. I overslept an hour and the new

boss didn’t have coffee at work. I missed another breakfast and dinner—

flying and the aircraft was an hour late coming in—and to top it off the

last three people I’ve flown with were F-4 pilots no longer in the squad-

rons and having to get checked out in the Grumman F-9 Cougar. Must be

a mistake there somewhere? Oh well, there must be answers somewhere.

Got to go to bed early tonight! Today was a baaaaaad day.

Love you!

Ray

K . L

Wednesday night

8 February 1967

Darling,

One quick note tonight just to let you know I’m over my silly blues of

yesterday and not mad at Mom anymore. She’s sitting with the kids for

me tomorrow. I got my permanent today, which is like step #1 to Hawaii.

I wanted to shop this week, because I’ll be in a dither by next probably.

Now, everywhere I turn I see articles on Hawaii or talk to someone who

has been there, and it’s all a pleasant whirl. I really do feel like a bride

going off on a honeymoon!

Sears in Los Angeles sent me a postcard today asking for the zip code

in your address before filling the shaver order. I was so mad! I called them

up here to see if it was on the order and it wasn’t. The girl on the phone

must have missed that when I gave your address. I feel sure I gave it, as your

address is indelible in my brain. But that was the reason it hadn’t come,

and I mailed the card back to LA today. So sorry about that. I really did try.

Maybe it will be there when you get back from Hawaii—crunch!

There will be so much to talk about when we get together. My aren’t

those pretty words! It really is hard to believe.

February 1967

———

187

. . .

I may get there a day early and leave a day late—22 February and 2

March—but it will work out.

Some say that R&R place will arrange half-price hotels for us if we go

through them. We might check with them to see. I’ll bring all the moola

I can in travelers checks.

I hope all is arranged on your end. I don’t dare ask at this point! No,

seriously, I know you can arrange it because I know you, and I feel sure the

commanding officer did say yes, though your last letter left that in doubt.

I just didn’t realize how serious you were in that first letter. The Ilikai word

made me know it was for REAL and NOW.

Roger, love.

See YOU SOON TOO.

K . L

Wednesday night

8 February 1967

Hello Honey,

Cancel my last and negate my first. The skipper wants me to go on R&R

in the middle of March, like the 15th or 16th or whatever date that may

be. I won’t know the exact date until the March R&R quotas comes out

near the end of this month, but cancel your reservations if you made

them UFN (until further notice). This is really in line with your last letter.

You wanted March for several reasons. Okay, Baby, March it is. About

the only problem will be the actual date as “mid” is as close as I can come

now. YOU buy new clothes? All I have is fungal shoes and belt, one shirt,

a one pair of black trousers, and dingy gray skivvies. You’ll probably want

to send me back to Vietnam!

This morning, we were checking the DMZ (demilitarized zone) (a

24-kilometer strip along the border of North and South Vietnam). Stupid

H&MS scheduled me for another DMZ hop late this afternoon, which I

had to CANK. With 700 people, I can only fly one a day and no more.

Well, the number two aircraft this afternoon—the one I was scheduled

for—must have held his altitude, heading, or air speed a hair too long and

damn near got shot down. . . . Some truce! I guess Tet (their lunar holy

day) doesn’t apply to us.

Chapter Five

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188

XXXs and you know what else!

Ray

K . L

Friday night

10 February 1967

Dear Sweetheart,

Oh, I’m so sorry you’ve had a delay in your mail. At a time like this, that

could feel excruciating. I’ll be glad when I get a letter that you know I’m

coming, if we can squeeze that in before it’s time for us to be together! But

with each letter I write now, I wonder, “Will he get this before he leaves

for Hawaii?” Yes, I know now that it’s still touch and go with you there,

but I too am just going ahead with plans like mad. Wild horses couldn’t

keep me back.

It’ll just be a waste of $337 if you can’t come, but I think even that

would be worth it, as I am enjoying getting ready for the trip so much.

I had a lovely time shopping today. Yesterday was no good (one dress),

Figure 24. Map of the demarcation line and demilitarized zone in Viet-

nam, ca. December 1966

Source: official Department of State photo.

February 1967

———

189

but today I found two great dresses and now have three in all. And I’ve

spent $100, which is not bad, though it probably sounds like a lot to you.

. . . I did discover I could have bought cheaper pants, but who needs cheap

pants? Who needs pants at all in fact? Don’t answer that!

A bit more to get and I’ll be all ready. Don’t sweat your clothes, just

be there. I’m still living in so-called civilization over here though, and it

behooves me to look like a lady at least until we get the door locked. I

want to dash out after all that . . . and get a muumuu and a wild Hawaiian

shirt for you and live like a native from then on anyway. I’m not buying a

new swimsuit. The old one will have to do, and maybe I’ll let you view the

Hawaiian scenery in that department. I don’t promise to fill the whole

bill. I’ll be quite content just to eat with you, sleep with you, and be with

you! And I’ll try not to get jealous while you watch one hula. See how

generous I can be!

Well, now what else is new? You’re a naughty boy for getting smashed

at the club opening. And you’ll get more words to that effect in Hawaii,

but I’ll save that as my lecture to you after you give yours to me.

Poor old Karen, she’s lost her “teeth” already. She tells me not to call

them her teeth. They are retainers, Mom! But the fact remains, the “teeth”

got thrown in the trash after lunch at school and burned up before the

loss was discovered. So now she needs a replacement at $15, I think. I’ll

find out soon enough. . . .

My you play your cards close to your chest. Here I rant and rave about

money and you won’t let me peek at your hand at all! What’s wrong, afraid

I’m going to spend it all? You’re right. Remember the first honeymoon. I’m

glad to hear you are “thinking in terms of hundreds of dollars.” Yours or

mine? That car bill didn’t faze you, but it sure did me. Golly bum, teeth,

cars, doctors . . . I’m broker than you. But I’m going to bring all I can, and

the gas tank reads $2,912 now. Subtract $337 plane ticket, $200 rent, and

what do you get? $2,375 – $100 for kids here, which Mom says she doesn’t

need, but I’m leaving that anyway. That’s $2,275 and getting down there.

Add in $363 on 3 March so that’s $2,638 and subtract $300 or $400 for

Hawaii so that’s $2,238 and so it goes—up and down. Just don’t bring your

money in cash. They think we’re suckers in Hawaii and they’re right, but

we can at least make them cash travelers checks before we give it to them.

And then we’ll live it UP!

One thing bothers me though. I can just see you spending two whole

Chapter Five

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190

days of luxury sleeping. Don’t you dare! I’ll bring my spurs. Wouldn’t it be

a joke if I’m the one who relaxes that much? Oh well, much fun to think

about anyway. Zzz.

Tomorrow, the kids have a nice day with a Valentine party for Karen

and movies for the others. And I’ll daydream some more about what color

shoes to get. Yes, my dreams are lovely too, these nights. February is a great

month—a real Valentine month. And this trip will be the best Valentine

ever! Will you be mine?

Gig

K . L

Saturday night

11 February 1967

Hello there, Baby,

I went to happy hour and I’m slightly stinko, maybe you better just throw

it away first.

You say no Hawaii in February, the boss says no Hawaii in February,

I say bullshit—Hawaii in February . . . then the wife’s letter comes and

“well maybe March would be better.” March! My God, March? . . . My

birthplace, Gig. The first time I saw it as an adult, I thought one thing:

one day, I would love to take my wife there and share some of the beauty.

March, I don’t know, maybe too cool to swim, but not to stroll in the

sand and take in bits of love and sights.

A strong stand, yes, I took a “strong defensive posture” for your in-

decision. . . . I guess the Commandant was right. If the Marine Corps

wanted you to have wives, they’d issue you one!

At least we’re talking about the same thing: get together, on the same

island (Oahu), on the same year 1967—an odd year for odd people for odd

trips to odd places to see odd things and odd places. . . . One purpose,

one thought, one beautiful time—R&R for you, R&R for me—and even

the kids may enjoy the notion a bit.

Though Stice points to the Commandant as the source of this idiom, LtGen Lewis B.

Puller was also known to make such statements. Len Hall and Eric Lichtblau, “The Issue

of Marriage and the Marines: Military: Leathernecks, Spouses Admit to Stresses of Creat-

ed by Dual Loyalty,” Los Angeles (CA) Times, 13 August 1993.

February 1967

———

191

Clothes—I don’t think I left too much worthwhile. I’ll buy a new suit

and some shirts there, if you can put up with me until then. Oh, shots,

you’d better check Bergstrom and get up to date on all your shots just in

case. If I don’t get mine, they won’t let me on the plane! We must have

up-to-date shot cards and spare malaria pills (us not you). I need yellow

fever and gamma globulin [vaccinations] too.

You’d think I was going

somewhere!

What do the kids think of all this? I think they’re all romantic enough

to enjoy the notion if they can fathom the whole thing.

It’s raining again, not enough to dampen my spirit just me. CANKED

after a 0430 reveille this morning, ugh. Black and wet and cold air from

China—sins of the world—I’m probably breathing Communist air! Well,

at least the fallout is H

O not HOx (H-bomb). Must be American rain,

but the mud . . . Who’d claim that abysmal morass? I’m really a peace

marcher at heart, but my marching gun has a silencer in it!

I knew this was going to be a long day, and it was, BUT not too long

to tell you how much I love YOU!

Goodnight, Honey,

Ray

K . L

Monday

13 February 1967

Darling,

Everything is just rip roaring along now. So nice and gay. Sandy just called

to say Karen is sending some clothes Greyhound Express and it’s now

on my list of 15 things to do! I don’t know how I’ll get them all done. I

John D. Grabenstein et al., “Immunization to Protect the US Armed Forces: Heritage,

Current Practice, and Prospects,” Epidemiologic Reviews 28, no. 1 (August 2006): 3–26,

https://doi.org/10.1093/epirev/mxj003.

Stice may be referring to the actions of Mao Zedong and the Cultural Revolution sweep-

ing across China at this time. Edward Teller, Stanislaw M. Ulam, and other American

scientists developed the first hydrogen bomb on 1 November 1952. Stice’s use of the term

peace marcher likely refers to the Vietnam peace parades and marches taking place across

the United States in 1966 and 1967. See Jack Manning and Edward Hausner, “Thousands

on Fifth Ave. March in Vietnam Protests,” New York Times, 27 March 1966.

Chapter Five

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192

can hardly think of anything else—one week in Hawaii is sure a month of

Sundays!

. . .

I have visions of us sending orchids to the femmes [women] back here

and that is going to be a must. Lots of appreciation that we’ll have to show

for our opportunity. Do you suppose we’ll have time for us? Oh, I wake

up thinking of you these days. Milly thinks it’s great. Everyone does and is

getting vicarious pleasure out of the thought. I’m sure it’s because of you

and what you’re going through. . . . You really are terribly well loved and

liked and missed by all.

Now I must quit and get going darling.

I’ll see you in Hawaii!

If you get this letter after the trip, it’s not the hop, skip, and jump

over, it’s the long haul back. But, oh gee, isn’t it grand?

Gig

K . L

Monday night

13 February 1967

Incredible! You caught me midair. I was flying to Hawaii, see, on this big

American airplane, and this guy says, “Hey you, don’t come. Not for an-

other four weeks.” Just like that, he says it. Now, I’ve heard of some guys

standing a girl up at the altar, and some gals standing a guy up for an hour

or two, but this guy beats them all. . . . And she’s left sitting there with her

mouth open, her pack on, and her afterburner going. . . . She told him

anything was fine with her, but he said he was going to build a fire under

her, and he didn’t know it but he did. So, she thinks she ought to call

the airlines, as they said CANK OUT by 15 February, and she couldn’t

believe her ears. He’s going to have to say it again, because she’s got all her

gears going and he just put her in reverse. Crunch!

Well, she thinks she’ll do it tomorrow, but she’s got all these people

to tell first, and it’s a good thing she’s FLEXIBLE.

. . .

There’s this commanding officer man, and he doesn’t know what he

ran into. If he thinks the Marines MOVE OUT, he’s never seen a woman

in midair, who just got grounded. It’s really too bad he can’t meet this

February 1967

———

193

chic, because she would frost his ears and toes and turn him around and

go over the backside and he’d wish he’d stayed in bed.

Now then, you say, “Don’t come?” Not until mid-March? The Ides of

March yet. Et tu Brutus. Gad, you’re cheerful. Hanging on for dear life to

that straw I first threw away back in January when I was whipped from

three weeks of four sick children. Heck, I’m raring to go now. Like NOW.

Gosh almighty, where in the world do you think I’ll find the patience for

four more weeks. I don’t have a war to keep me busy. Only the one I could

start with a certain guy—make that two guys. Only one gave it a really good

college try, so I can’t kick him much. He’s only getting a fringe frost for

not weeping captiously with his dear sweet spending money like mad wife!

One good thing before I close. It appears—and I say this with great re-

luctance—that March may be the tiniest bit better financially, (but I doubt

it) and that the strain on a certain sewing lady may be eased. That’s the

plus side. But, how in the world a certain major’s wife can keep from

turning into a pauper’s wife with four more weeks to dream of Hawaii, I’ll

never know. . . . Now she’s got a bee in her bonnet to buy clothes for her

dingy gray man, who says he’s in even worse condition that she was (she’s

come way UP in one week), but she’s still broke from that major upheaval

and where the $2,900 ends. Only heaven knows, but when it’s gone it’s

gone and so Hawaii better come quick!

Well, please tell me how the third act should come out. We can’t just

leave this gal sitting there all frothy like, can we? . . . Right? Right. There’s

a good boy. In the meantime, she’ll be sitting there, and you just push the

button to make her go.

Over and out and love and stuff.

Attention! Present ARMS, about FACE!

Gig

K . L

Monday night

13 February 1967

Hi Honey,

That last letter must have been really something. Saturday night got sort

of wild. Would you rather not take the bad with the good? I still love you

drunk or sober. It’s just that communications suffer in the process.

I don’t know if I told you or not, but we almost got another major

Chapter Five

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194

in to take over the base services half of MABS, and the guy was senior to

me! I wasn’t sure, but after I looked in the Blue Book, I started to move

my gear down to base services.

The skipper said, “What are you cleaning

your desk?” I said, “No, you just got a new executive officer, so in so is

senior to me.” He said, “Whoa, halt, stop, and desist!” He subtracted my

numbers from so in so’s numbers, rogered and called the S-1, lowed as

how he’d just as soon not have a new executive officer and commanding

officer at the same time. They hemmed and hawed and beat around the

bush for a couple of days and finally came up with a newly made major,

F-4 flight officer John T. Radich. I’ve known John for years; the last time

at Naval Air Facility Atsugi, Japan, he was a pilot, now he’s stopped being

an aviator per se and is a RIO (radar intercept officer) commonly called

“scope” and not a pilot anymore.

Oh well, he knows what he wants and

seems happy whatever the reason. Today was his first day. Ugh, it snowed

naturally. My new boss [Maj David W. Morrill] is rapidly getting the swing

of things and passing me up in many areas. He has a bastardly good mem-

ory. Have you ever known a practical idealist?

I can see why he damn

near made the astronaut program.

Are they still congratulating you for going to Hawaii? Next month!

I found a guy who is going on 23 February—Major Michael P. “Mike”

Cady—he’ll check on a few things for me. Three people have recommend-

ed the Ilikai Hotel, like “costs more and well worth it” type statements.

SO? GO! I won’t know the exact date until about 24 or 25 February, this

way I can be here for the skipper’s first big inspection on the 22d.

Not too much sleep last night—floor show until 1100, F-4 crash un-

til 0400, and an unusually bleary eyed 0730 morning meeting.

No one

hurt, I’m just tired and damn near fell asleep reading dispatches this after-

The term blue book refers to the lineal list (a.k.a. the Navy Register), which is an annual

publication of all the active duty Marine Corps officers within their respective ranks in

order of precedence. See Marine Corps Bulletin 1400 (MCBul 1400), Marine Corps Promotion

Manual, vol. 1, Officer Promotions (1967).

MABS-13 ComdC, February 1967. According to the command chronology, Radich re-

lieved a Maj Thomas on 10 February. For Marine air, this was a naval flight officer (NFO)

who sat in the back seat of an F-4 and operated the aircraft’s radar and weapons systems.

Other aircraft also utilized NFOs and RIOs during the conflict.

First coined in 1917, the term practical idealist refers to people who believe there is an

ethical and moral imperative to be virtuous or good and that personal and social change

are connected.

MABS-13 ComdC, February 1967, 2.

February 1967

———

195

noon. What’s this no bombing bit by LBJ [Lyndon B. Johnson]? That’s a

neat way to treat your avowed killers. Without a blockade or something,

what else can you do? Hard to believe he really will do it.

. . .

I haven’t flown for two days! Can’t have that!

Okay, Lou Gagnon just walked in. He’s been stuck in the Philippines

for three weeks now with the old Douglas C-117 Skytrain losing engines

left and right—one at a time fortunately.

GOOD NIGHT, BABY!

Sleep time,

Ray

K . L

For more on the political divisiveness at the time, see “The Effects of U.S. Bombing

on North Vietnam’s Ability to Support Military Operations in South Vietnam and Laos:

Retrospect and Prospect,” 29 August 1966, National Security File, Country File, Vietnam,

box 192, The Effects of U.S. Bombing, Johnson Library, University of Texas, Austin.

“Crash of Douglas C-117D Skytrain in Da Nang: 7 Killed,” Bureau of Aircraft Accidents

Archives, accessed 13 April 2023.

Figure 25. LtCol David W.

Morrill, Stice’s new CO

Source: official U.S. Marine

Corps photo.

Chapter Five

———

196

Wednesday, afternoon

15 February 1967

Darling,

I hope you didn’t take yesterday’s letter seriously. I was trying to be funny,

and at midnight it seemed funny. I almost didn’t mail it Tuesday morning,

but then decided you know your kooky wife pretty well and it was safe to

mail.

I’m really quite adjusted to not going until mid-March now. It will

give me lots more time to get ready, finish dental appointments, etc.

Saved myself $6 this morning. A [window] pane got broken in the den

last night while I was at PTA, and the kids played ball out there with a

14-year-old sitter. I just trotted to the glass place, got the glass, came home,

and installed it myself. . . .

I’m anxious to get your letter today just to make sure it’s still mid-

March now. I’ll be able to talk to the other returning wives now and get

more Hawaii scoop.

Last night, I watched a special on TV called “Air War in the North.”

It showed a raid from Da Nang of McDonnell Douglas Phantom IIs (Air

Force) hitting targets in North Vietnam and described the three layers of

junk they have to outmaneuver: flat, SAM [surface-to-air] missiles, and

MiGs. But it was encouraging that they feel it is possible to avoid the

SAMs if you see them coming from the ground up.

They showed the pilots, who were mostly colonels and lieutenant col-

onels. The leader was age 45. There was much discussion about whether

it was worthwhile—no, from the diplomats and, yes, from the pilots—and

the lead pilot said it will keep getting more dense to fly through (a more

sophisticated defense) in six months and even worse in a year, which they

must plan for. Meaning, let us hit them harder now before they get there

defenses up stronger. I hope somebody has the sense to say yes to that,

though I can see the reasoning about not hitting the MiGs on the ground

now for fear it will drive them into China and more escalation. . . .

Gig is referring to Bill Stout, “CBS News Special Report: Vietnam Perspective: Air

War in the North,” CBS, aired on 14 February 1967. The 60-minute episode covered the

effectiveness of bombing raids on North Vietnam and interviews with Gen William C.

Westmoreland, Adm Ulysses S. Sharp, and reporters Harrison E. Salisbury and Harry

Ashmore, who had surveyed bomb damage in North Vietnam.

February 1967

———

197

That’s about it, Dear. I’m sort of hanging loose now. . . .

Much, much love,

Gig

K . L

Wednesday night

15 February 1967

Hi Honey,

Hey! Thanks for the tit for Tet. Got something special saved for Honolu-

lu? Well, now we’ve both gone through a highly successful dry run. We

ought to be real pros next month! First off, I want to congratulate you for

getting with it so well. . . .

And your economics aren’t that bad either—$337, but that must be

without tax? What the hell, it’s a great price!

But no razor head makes a poor shave, lousy appearance, and even

worse disposition. Ever had to shave in the dark with cold water and

no shaving cream? Hmm? Not too good. Just buy me a goddamn head.

Please? Again? Like last month? If you were overseas, I’d buy you one if I

had to go to 15 stores or 100. It’s like not having a toothbrush and you

can’t buy one. Have you ever had to wear an oxygen mask on a freshly cut

face?

Don’t worry about your three-year captain. How would you like

Wuertz and Klingensmith as majors? One of my new hut mates was one

of the Marines who landed at Guadalcanal and I’m senior to him.

I tell

you, don’t sweat other people. Who the hell are they? WE are important

to each other, that’s the only thing that really counts.

Yes, we will eat at the La Ronde, drink at the top of the Ilikai, more at

the Canoe House, dance at the Chinese Junk and Michel’s and Chuck’s

. . . Willows and anything else we can conger up, perhaps rent a car to

boot.

See Henry I. Shaw Jr., First Offensive: The Marine Campaign for Guadalcanal (Washington,

DC: History and Museums Division, Headquarters Marine Corps, 1992).

The La Ronde, built in 1961, was the first revolving restaurant in the United States. Ca-

noe House is an open-air restaurant at Mauna Lanai Bay. Michel’s at the Colony Surf was

an upscale French restaurant at Diamond Head. Chuck’s Steak House operated for more

than 50 years in Waikiki and closed in 2018. The Willows—opened in 1944 and closed in

1999—was known for its Hawaiian buffet, live entertainment, and open-air dining.

Chapter Five

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198

You weren’t supposed to read that stupid poem. You were supposed

to sing it to “Rye Whiskey.” Don’t you know how to sing a drunk song? As

I left the club tonight, they called, “Have another round?” “No thanks,”

I said, “I’ve written my wife three drunk letters already.” That got a few

laughs on that one. Are you laughing? I’ll show you—ho-ho, ha-ha, he-he.

And how many cigarette cartons a day do you smoke, Madam? Of all my

sins, I just let it all hang out on cigarettes. Got to cut loose on something,

you know. When they run out of beer at the club, I order Crown Royal

and 7Up. Best tasting 7Up I ever had! Everyone turns and looks to see

who in hell is ruining such tremendous booze. I’d rather have Korean

beer as not and that’s about as low brow as you can get—Seoul’s finest

“Crown.”

. . .

Would you believe it’s been raining again for five days? Got so cold to-

night that I popped a gallon of popcorn! Sometimes when I get frustrated

and don’t know what to do—cigarettes don’t taste good, beer’s too much,

scratching don’t do no good—you know really in a bind? I just look at that

rack, hit it one more time, and ZAP—sleepsville. Think I’ll have a tiny bit

of that now if you don’t mind.

Goodnight, Baby Doll.

Razor head, Dozo. Two is better than none!

I love you, Gig.

(Even if my beard doesn’t!)

Ray

K . L

Thursday

16 February 1967

Darling, hi,

Not much news really to tell you. Still waiting for the pokey mailman who

comes in the afternoon these days.

The dental visit was costly, like $63! Kirk has a big cavity in a tooth

that’s supposed to stay in until he’s 11 years, plus one in a molar, plus

others, and has separated front teeth, which need to be pulled together,

so his eyeteeth can come in, plus he’s “tongue tied!” That was news to me.

The doctor can clip the small skin holding the tongue down for $8 and

February 1967

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199

will later on. Yesterday, it was merely X-rays, an impression, and cleaning

for him. Then he starts all the other work.

Robin has the best mouth so far. Only cavities for her that need fill-

ings. And then we got Karen’s new retainers ($15) and paid $8 still owed

on her. Total $63.

Kirk will have to wear rubber bands for a while and then a small metal

clip until the teeth come together. It sure is bad that dependents don’t

have dental Medicare, though I read in the Service column that it may be

passed this year. Probably too late for us. However, I still need to go too

and I am overdue again now, so maybe someday it will pay off for me.

. . .

Here comes the mailman.

XXXs,

Gig

K . L

Friday, Don’s birthday

17 February 1967

Hello Dearest Sweet,

Well, I’m feeling much better about your feelings. Yesterday’s letter was am-

ple proof that the postponement bothered you a bit too. In a nice, normal

way. Your letter was like poetry with thoughts tumbling out, and I enjoyed

the ride on the waves of your thoughts! Up-down, back-forth, all around.

I had to laugh at the thought of being romantic with my friend and his

malaria pills, yellow fever, gamma globulin state. I know it’s not funny,

but would you not kiss me if I said, “Sorry I didn’t get my shots?” And

you said, “Heavens! In my pure state, don’t come near me.” You’re not

debugged enough for me? Well, I will get checked if you insist, but I’ll bet

the average Hawaii-bound traveler doesn’t go through all that. Those are

U.S. bugs in Hawaii anyway. I really am horrified you have to go through

a bug chamber to get to me. Seems to me we’ve always shared our bugs

before this. Why stop now? Oh well, the doctors are wise, I’m sure. I’ll be

For more on military health care and beneficiaries, see Michelle Dolfini-Reed and Jen-

nifer Jebo, The Evolution of the Military Health Care System: Changes in Public Law and DOD

Regulations (Alexandria, VA: CNA, 2000), 29–32.

Chapter Five

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200

brave—maybe! But I assure you I love you, dingy gray over shirt, bugs, and

all. And I think the idea of you buying a new suit is fine. I’ll bring over the

brown suit to wear while buying the new suit.

. . .

Mom is having a birthday cocktail party for Don and a few friends

tonight, then she has a date with Colonel Hugh McGaw, Don has a date,

and I guess I go to the movies with Liz. I’ve been seeing mostly English

movies lately—all raw sex like Alfie, which is the story of a guy determined

to stay single, though he’ll sleep with anyone. But in the end, he doesn’t

have his peace of mind, which is how he says the “birds” [females] always

get you anyway. They don’t let you have your peace of mind. I do believe

the man has a point there.

I really think March has more and more possibilities. It more nearly

breaks up the year in the middle. Waiting now is better than waiting after,

because there still is Hawaii to look to. So, the 15–16 March is it until you

say for sure, then for REAL. Roger 15–16! Only three-and-a-half weeks

now.

Gig

K . L

Saturday Night

18 February 1967

Raining—no fly[ing today]

Hi Honey,

One of these days, I’ll get your letter where you know about the change in

R&R dates. Oh well, this way everyone has extra time to plan. As far as

the $337 for your ticket, that will still be good just change the reservation

date ASAP when I give you the firm date.

Right, who wants pants anyway. Probably get torn up!

. . .

Remember our first honeymoon? Hell, we never had one. This will be

our first real honest honeymoon!

Mid-March could run from the 13th to the 17th. We won’t get the

R&R quotas from the wing until near the end of this month.

Alfie, directed by Lewis Gilbert, starring Michael Caine (Hollywood, CA: Paramount

Pictures, 1966).

February 1967

———

201

It sure has been a lot of fun just thinking about it, hasn’t it? . . . When

we do get together, it will have been a full five months (my counting) since

we saw each other. Hell, that’s like rounding the horn or worse! I don’t

think it took Christopher Columbus that long to get to America to start

with.

Well, anyway, it is a hell of a long time and I know we both need

R&R now!

We have a whole series of inspections starting next week, and I’m still

working on awards—four of them that I thought were okay came back to-

day so I have to fix them up. They are a bitch to write up just exactly right.

I’ve been working on a Bronze Star for three months. And I’m starting

another one for Colonel Owens. The group executive officer said write

him up a Navy and Marine Corps Commendation Medal, and I figure if I

have to write the damn thing it’ll be at least a Bronze Star—medals, that’s

something else.

All your new clothes and I’ll look like hell in one trouser and one

shirt. I’ll have to buy a suit, skivvies, swimsuit, and the whole bit I guess

in Honolulu.

I finally remembered what day I told you about the change in plans—

the 8th—so surely you knew by the 14th. Maybe your next letter will say. I

sure hope you aren’t beaten down by it.

. . .

One of our four 100-kilowatt power plants finally gave up the ghost

today after 4,000 hours of continuous output. They bought two Japanese

generators before they came in country—only supposed to last about 2,500

hours, so that’s really very good, but we figured we could hold our own

until 1 February when the civilians were supposed to have our permanent

power in. We’ve gone three weeks past that and they’re more than seven

weeks late and quitting to boot. RMK/RBJ that’s the combine of compa-

nies. They are really screwed up.

Boy, I’ll be glad to get back to the land of toilets and running INSIDE

water. I had a couple of close shaves! Shave? I had to buy a cheap shaver

today. First time they had any since I got here. I can still put the five-blad-

Calculations vary but, after sailing across the Atlantic Ocean, land was sighted by a sailor

named Rodrigo Bernajo about 10 weeks later, though Columbus took the credit for the

discovery.

RMK-RBJ was a consortium created by the U.S. Navy during the Vietnam War for

American construction support. The so-called “Vietnam Builders” included Raymond

International, Morrison-Knudsen International, Brown & Root, and J. A. Construction.

Chapter Five

———

202

ed head to work through. There haven’t been any Bangkok trips for a long

time.

Lord, it’s sleep time. ZAP.

YES, I LOVE YOU!

Ray

K . L

Sunday night

19 February 1967

. . .

Finally got your letter where you sat half in and half out of Austin. It

really did shoot you down didn’t it? I’m really sorry, Honey. I hate to do

that to you, although I really didn’t have any choice one the matter to

start with, with this damned inspection. Would you believe they are com-

ing from—you guessed it, Hawaii—FMFPAC [Fleet Marine Force, Pacific]

that’s Kaneohe.

Now you know what it’s like to be sitting on a catapult on a carrier.

You’ll be roaring away, full power, feet off the brakes, and not going any-

where until he hits the button. Kind of like you don’t have any control

over the situation, but there you are anyway! Enough, enough, I’ve been

miserable through two weeks of your ever-increasing bliss knowing the

trip was put off for a month. It’s been a bad deal all the way around. . . .

“Act III, Scene I, place: Austin, TX, time: confusion. Hence lights

dim, shh, ACTION. Lights dim and slowly brighten on WOMAN in a

purple muumuu (wife), wringing her hands. . .”

Love,

Ray

K . L

Sunday night and raining

20 February 1967

Hi Honey,

I’ve been thinking of you all weekend—always on weekends. . . . Everyone

else is cavorting around, and I try hard to cavort, but I chicken out with-

out a guiding arm to steer me around. However, I did get out Friday night.

Mom’s party for Don’s business associates was that night. . . .

February 1967

———

203

I also took the letter from Congressman James J. Pickle (D-TX) along

and we all allowed as how we’d vote for him, since he read about you in

the paper, but we liked it anyway.

. . .

Saturday was sort of nothing, so I decided to bathe them [children]

good Saturday night and go to church Sunday, which we did and all was

fine with a seating arrangement of Don, Kirk, me, Karen, Mom, and Rob-

in. Dressing them all alone Sundays is so frantic that I almost give up

every time, and certainly that’s one of the times I wish for you. But bath

night takes a good second and, of course, many other times too numerous

to mention!

Don took them to the movies in south Austin—a new theater—while

I stayed home this afternoon to read Look magazine’s first installment of

Manchester’s Death of a President, which is really very good writing.

Any-

way when all came home, I asked Karen where her “teeth” were and she

said she had them in her lap at the show while she was eating popcorn and

they must have dropped when she got up. I really hit the ceiling and called

Don to find where it [the theater] was, and asked him to come with me

to get them. He said, “You’ll never find them with thousands of kids in

the dark.” I hung up on him mad and said I was going anyway! So out we

charged at 1730 (luckily a pork roast cooking) and drove way across town,

with me telling Karen she was going to have to live with crooked teeth

if she couldn’t find them and rode in silence the whole way. She really

crawled around and bless her heart did find them. All was joyful then and

we got to enjoy our pork dinner after all! A happy relieved family.

. . .

I told Don he owed me a beer for betting I couldn’t find them

and he apologized for not going with me. In other words, he caught hell

from me and Mom! Poor dear, after his noble movie afternoon with five

kids.

. . .

William Manchester’s Death of a President was commissioned by Jacqueline Kennedy to

serve as an account of the assassination of her husband. She attempted to halt publication

until the author made changes to the manuscript she and Robert F. Kennedy deemed “un-

flattering.” Manchester was offered $665,000 from Look for serial rights to the four articles

that would be published on 24 January, 7 February, 21 February, and 7 March 1967. See

also William Manchester, The Death of a President, November 20–November 25, 1963 (New

York: Harper & Row, 1967).

Chapter Five

———

204

News tonight—Oppenheimer died a semihero of throat cancer. [He

was] very wan at the end, very human, and very sad.

I miss you once again. Like all the time. Tell me for sure the new date

ASAP. I must make new reservations again. I know 15–16 March, but is it

for sure? Say Roger, FOR SURE. Bank account now reads $2,715.

Not too sure I read you right about a new major there to help, and

you kept your job anyway because you’re so good. Right? Sounds good.

Hope it is. New commanding officer is back in the good graces of me.

Also, very glad your shower is fixed.

Things sound under control, and I hope they are. I never see how you

have time to write. You’re such a good boy! Drunk or sober, only please

stay sober cause I like you better that way. Hawaii ahi [there], you can get

smashed there one night. Me drive home. Seriously dear, stay away from

the club. Beer and popcorn is much better for you and safer all around.

Don’t let others make you forget us. They don’t care, but we do. Ever so

much.

And so, sweet kisses and goodnight.

Wifsan (issue type),

Gig

K . L

Tuesday night

21 February 1967

Hi Baby,

Just a note to say hello. You remember how to say hello? No, okay, I’ll

show you in Hawaii. . . . I feel like eating and running like Mom used to

say, “All Ray does is come home and change clothes. I’m just a laundry ser-

vice.” Don’t feel that way tonight. You’re a hell of a lot more than a mail

service, I guarantee you! When I first started talking about R&R, it was

like it belonged to someone else, like I didn’t rate it yet. I can assure you

I don’t feel that way anymore. We’re so lucky to have the opportunity to

see each other I can’t believe it. Couldn’t do that the first time, could we?

Takes a war to make people realize there are such things in life as love

and families and a reason for things—many reasons. And I’m never too

“Obituary: J. Robert Oppenheimer, Atom Bomb Pioneer, Dies,” New York Times, 19

February 1967.

February 1967

———

205

old to learn a few things about life. I’ve learned a few new things over here

that’s for sure. Like how extremely fortunate we are to have each other’s

love. I guess that’s the most important thing, and our children will find

their loves when the time is ready and right. I’m certain of that.

Please don’t feel too short-sheeted. It’s been a very, very busy day. I

flew one of the most complete hops I’ve ever had, even if only one gun

worked. I just better hit the rack now. You know I love you, Gig.

Always,

Ray

K . L

21 February 1967

Hello Sweetheart,

I’ve been wondering what’s going on around you lately. From the news it

sounds like a lot, but I’ve missed the Vietnam report on the 1800 nightly

news for two nights and have just heard snatches like “15 operations going

on,” a big one near Quang Ngai by the South Vietnamese, another near

Da Nang, and I keep wondering which ones you’ve been working near.

Not that you should tell me, as I’d probably worry and you can do without

that.

. . .

Finished more chapters of Manchester’s book on President John F.

Kennedy and read until midnight last night. Then I stumbled around

washing my hair this morning so I’d look presentable as a chauffeur for

Karen’s class, which had a field day trip to a University of Texas Glass

Shop lab.

. . .

I’m sure sorry about that razor head delay. I’m positive it will get to

you now before I could get another, and surely it will be there soon. It’s

at the point now where you can get one in Hawaii quicker than I could

send one too.

Your itinerary of things to do in Hawaii sounds lovely and much too

good to be real. I’m going to Bergstrom to get shots on Thursday if neces-

sary. I will check at least.

Kathy is prettier and huskier every day. A great eater. She thinks every-

thing is yum yum. . . .

She says “Dad’n Bye-Plane.” And she knows your letters now. She can

Chapter Five

———

206

ride behind the kids on their bikes and hang on too. How about that? She

needs a tricycle, but makes the most of ones she finds at other people’s

houses.

I’m behind on repairing bikes, mending clothes, and repair work in

general. That’s a full-time job. Maybe when the weather is better. I find

that so many problems often solve themselves in time. (Like razor heads?)

Oh sorry, I’m trying to be tactful, but it’s hard when I’m being shouted at

all the way from Vietnam!

Hey man, I love you. Don’t be mad at me. Just keep building those

bonfires under me. Feels so good!

XXXs and stuff,

Gig

P.S. Got your Wednesday letter from 15 February on my Monday, 20

February. Not too bad.

K . L

Thursday

23 February 1967

Hello Honey,

Do you know I’m getting a callous on my writing finger? Maybe I should

write left-handed! No? Why not? It feels pretty good. Looks like your handwrit-

ing. Thought that would get you. Does it grab you? Hey, I’ve got an idea, that is,

this is my idea: I’ll be the English major, you be the major, major. Okay?

. . .

Thanks to you I got a smallpox vaccination today. It was the wrong day

but Kathy and I looked pitiful and the allergy clinic turned into the shot

clinic in our honor. Somehow, anything a woman does on a base looks

wrong. I don’t mind that, but I resent the satisfaction males always get for

being right and telling you so. It’s Adam and Eve every time. They say look

what you’re making me do—breaking the law! And it’s all your fault. And I

do hope you appreciate it. Then we have to act very dependent. Thanks to

you, my god, I’ll always come on the right day from now on. You’ve made

a righteous woman out of me!

When will men realize that women have their own time schedules. As

The italicized text in this paragraph is where Gig switched hands and was writing with

her left.

February 1967

———

207

a matter of fact, we kind of follow the moon. I must say, Dear, you show

superior knowledge about women. The only thing you forget is that if you

ever get smug, that’s when I’ll either change the rules or kiss you and then

change the rules. Just remember the way I play pool—dirty pool that is.

One thing you can count on is business—monkey business. No, really.

. . . Robin is just wise, wise, wise. And Karen and I keep using big

words on her. Like “I see you’ve progressed a lot in the last hour.” (From

nowhere to nowhere.) She has a puffed-out cheek from her shots at the

dentist. Kirk has a big new crown on a tooth. The bill was $33. The gas

tank reads $2,656 now and going down. Hey big spender from the Far

East, how much do you have? How far can a girl go on one year’s savings?

Wanna sell the boat?

. . .

For the moment, where are we going—Hawaii? When—soon? That’s

enough.

Goodnight, Love,

Gig

K . L

Thursday night

23 February 1967

Hello Baby! How you all, Lazybeth?

I estimated the middle of March. How does 15 March sound to you?

Well, it better sound great because that is the date. You get there 15

March, I’ll get there the 15th, and KABOOM—look out Hawaii!

You plan to get there anytime from 0800 in the morning to 1400 in

the afternoon, and I should be there just before you. I’ll have to leave

about 0900 in the morning of 21 March and I’ll get there about 3 hours

before I started!

How’s them apples? The IDL (International Date Line) will really foul

you up if you don’t understand it, and you don’t have to—I do. I’ll lose an

entire day coming back. Tonight, I told the boss I’d chosen 15 March for

R&R and he lowed as how why not—do it! Even offered as how he really

should write you a note of explanation as to why he chose to upset such a

perfect setup. But he’s used to a different type—his wife had her bosoms

rebuilt through the Navy plastic surgeons, although she won’t dye her

hair blonde either. I guess he’s not to used to explaining, just doing. It’s

Chapter Five

———

208

okay, he’s good to work for, keeps me on my toes, and creates a continuing

challenge. Although sometimes I wish I knew shorthand to take notes,

because he expresses himself so well that I forget the detailed words and

end up with generalities. I guess I should blame Mom for that. She is a

great generalizer even in her own specialism, and I’m sure a chip off that

block and my dad’s C averages. He didn’t help much in the acumen area.

I guess I’m a stupid specialist. How’s that anachronism?

Damn, I don’t have time to get a tan before Hawaii. I’ll probably look

sick there. I’m not too sure of the temperature; it’s 95 and 96 here today

and tomorrow. The sun’s out for a switch. Last night, even half the moon

lit up the terrain like a full moon. When it’s clear, it’s really clear. But

after getting up at 0400 this morning for a 0500 brief, the damn thing

moved in all the way up to the DMZ and the wing ended up “hold” then

about 0730 CANK. Lost some good sleeping there.

You’ll have to forgive me and whatever state I happen to be in. There’s

Figure 26. Maj Ray Stice in the cockpit (left) prior to a hop, Chu Lai

Source: Stice family collection.

February 1967

———

209

no particular change from here to there, even getting there three hours

before I start. . . . I’ll have to buy everything there I suppose, nothing here

that’s for sure. Do you love me, Baby? Guess you should. It would be more

acceptable that way.

We sure have a one-way mailman. So and so hasn’t produced in about

three days. I told him, by damn, he’d better write one himself if I didn’t

get one tomorrow. I did get a couple of flicks back from Hawaii, but they

weren’t as good as the others. The air is a little bit rough, and you can’t

see too much. Besides, I left the dust cover on a couple of times; takes

beautiful pictures of the inside of the dust cover!

Hey! . . . Would you believe I love YOU! No? Okay, you just wait. I’ll

show you. Oops, excuse me, we just lost our second 100 kilowatt [genera-

tor]. Work to do.

See you later, love san.

Ray

K . L

Saturday night

25 February 1967

Hello Baby,

I’m sure glad I keep those homemade calendars I made at Quantico. I

swore I wrote you last night and I didn’t! I try to write you every other day

and once in a while I miss of course. Do you keep a record? You go three

days in a row and then stop three days sometimes. How does a face-to-face

confrontation on this matter sound? Okay, you meet me in Honolulu on

15 March and we’ll discuss this problem. Today the skipper said, “What’s

your wife’s name?” I explained it. “Why?” Just might drop her a sorry

about that letter. I’d be pleased if he had the time. He’s sort of hitting it

hard right now.

Been practicing one-upmanship today. First up north to recon the

DMZ and the new group colonel (Colonel Douglas D. Petty’s gone, thank

the Lord) was leading. He wanted rocket pods for familiarization I guess.

Anyway, I ended up with about 300 pounds more fuel over Da Nang and

we broke off and lucked into a great secondary just two or three minutes

for each of two runs. [It was a] 100 percent climb to DM, idle descent back

Chapter Five

———

210

to home plate, straight in, and not too bad.

One of the enlisted plane

captains had asked me to take his camera along and shoot some movies

for him. So, I was alternating back and forth—both cameras and guns go-

ing at the same time! I should be able to hit 80 missions before R&R—no

sweat—got 75 now and two weeks to go.

Oh man, the thought of seeing you so soon is almost overwhelming,

but I know I need it too. Yesterday, I had a headache, and it took five or

six beers instead of one or two to unwind and then the noise and pressure

combined . . . well, it’s time for a change of pace.

Today, it was 96 degrees, and I was worrying about the fact that I

would have to become reacclimated after living under air conditioning

in Hawaii plus from the high humidity here to the fairly low humidity of

Hawaii. But such are the problems of today’s intercontinental travelers!

Yes, you too are about to join the jet-sets. To play the piper is to pay the

price! How about my sweet stick-in-the mud going into orbit all by her

lonesome! That’s really a big step, now really, no one to lead, no help, no

assistance, all alone. Go! Great, my hats off to you (my heart too, more

scratchy)!

. . .

Oops, the time snuck up on me. Got to go to bed. Got a 0500 brief

again tomorrow (need that beauty sleep) (joke, joke).

For you, Gig. Goodnight, Sweetheart, see you soon (later yeah, but

more better sooner huh?)

Love you, Honey,

Ray

K . L

Sunday afternoon

26 February 1967

Hi Sweet Pie,

I’m feeling good. Just took a good bath and the house is unbelievably

quiet! Kathy’s asleep, the girls are at the movies with girlfriends, and Kirk

is next door. It’s a gray, cold day out but I’ve been up since 0800 and have

DM refers to the decision height or altitude where a pilot checks to ensure they will meet

landing requirements.

February 1967

———

211

things really cleaned out for Goodwill bags the kids brought home from

school to fill. I guess the combination of being cleaned up and cleaned

out is a good one! You would have enjoyed this weekend too. It’s been so

peaceful.

I took the girls to the civic ballet Friday night, and Kirk and Kathy

went to Mom’s and spent the night there, so Saturday morning the girls

slept late, and I woke at 0800 with nothing to do and really missing you!

. . .

I am waiting on your definite word on the date to leave. Maybe it will

come soon. Time’s (March is only two days away) getting there! I do hope

to get shoes and extra goodies all bought by next week so all will be ready.

This has been such a nice big house. I do hope we can continue to live

in a big house from now on. It’s a very sane way to live and I manage to

keep up with the work alone, despite the size of house, now that the kids

are in school. I may need help again though if our social life expands, as

let’s face it, now I have too much time! Like a whole year to diddle away.

Doodle away? Dwaddle away? Dribble away? Yeah, like waste. Especially

this long Sunday afternoon. Bed anyone?

No news from Milly in several weeks. She’s been snowed in a lot, that

much I know. I would call her today if I weren’t hanging on to money like

a tightwad at the moment.

The $337 to Hawaii is a “see America” special rate. You just have to

fly during the week, no weekends, or you lose the rate.

Something like

that.

The manufacturers don’t make your razor head anymore. That’s what

the drugstore man says, so if the Sears one doesn’t fit, we’ll just get a new

one in Hawaii.

Bye for now, Love. I do miss you.

Gig

K . L

The “see America” rate may refer to the attempts being made to increase tourism in that

area. See Marguerite S. Shaffer, “ ‘See America First’: Re-Envisioning Nation and Region

through Western Tourism,” Pacific Historical Review 65, no. 4 (1996): 559–81, https://doi.org

/10.2307/3640296.

Chapter Five

———

212

Monday

27 February 1967

Hi Dear,

So very glad to get your letter today with the dates to go firm at last: 15–21

March. So, all is well, and I called and made my reservation. . . .

So glad the commanding officer gave us his blessing. I gave him mine

too, I guess! I take it back. Wow to getting bosoms fixed. Negate forever!

. . .

You’ve gotten so darn philosophical and mushy—yeah, mushy—since

you’ve been there that I hope a little repair work will restore you to your

usual acid self. Can’t have a mushy husband. I like mine a little tough,

meaner than hell but nice around the edges. However, that I can take care

of, I think. I haven’t changed. I still think I’m six feet tall.

As a matter of fact though, I am working on a new image. Since you’ve

obviously never liked me the way I am. Hmm? No, not blonde. The new

image is ME without KIDS. What in the heck do you suppose that’s going

to be like?

Kirk just came home, so he’s going to dictate to me now. Over and

out . . .

. . .

Just one more thing. Kathy saw your letters this morning, smiled, and

said “Dad’n!” So, just for fun, I opened it up and read the first line to her.

It said, “Hi, Baby!” She stood for a minute and then said, “Hi Dad’n!” She

associates you now with your shoes, your boat and plane, and pictures.

Bye for now, Honey. I do love you too, mush and all. How mush?

Mush mush.

That’s how mush.

Gig nyet Lazibeth!

K . L

Monday night

27 February 1967

Hi Darling,

This is going to be so short that I hate to start! Today started out with a

0500 brief and CANK afternoon brief. Almost CANK, go get them in the

black. I had to fire the guns to get warmed up as its cool today! Saturday,

February 1967

———

213

I got so eager, I had all the switches turned on and the Bird Dog was

really short on fuel (me too) and I dropped down from 10 grand [10,000

feet], pulled it through real hard, pdq. Yeah, I squirted off 50 rounds in

the damn turn before I was aligned up with the target! (The trigger is in

the stick.) Such a good deal, since I only have 200 to start with! Once in

a while, you hear those magic words, “Good shooting. Get ’em, Babes!”

Every night, I dream about us in Hawaii. It’s so good I can hardly

believe it. You really ready to take on the Chu Lai terror? I’m ready for the

Austin Ape’ette (Wif). Yeah, you san. So come on, Baby, I’ze ready! Takes

two to tango. Would you believe tangle, would you believe . . . to hell with

it. I’m ready, I’m ready.

I’m also dragging and sagging and only six hours away from the next

brief. Xxxs, Honey, many kisses, lots of squeezes, and all my love.

Ray

I got my third Air Medal today in the mail.

K . L

Tuesday

Farewell February, Hello March

28 February 1967

Darling,

This is going to be sort of short. It’s 2300, . . . and I’ve been buying shoes

all day. How’s that for a double-barreled reason to be short?

. . .

I should arrive on Pan Am at 1420 on flight 821 . . . only on 15 March

this time. I haven’t picked up my ticket yet, but they confirmed it all again

for me.

I’m not at all satisfied with the way I’m going to look for you, . . . and

I feel more like an alley cat than a bird of paradise. At any rate, I shall

be colorful, and you’ll be able to spot me. For some strange reason, I’ll be

wearing an orange and white suit, so just yell TEXAS and that’ll be me!

One of my other dresses doesn’t seem to have shoes that match it, so

I may go native and wiggle a toe at you. Don’t you dare say I never saw

her before in my life, like that North Carolina greeting. I’m still crushed

MABS-13 Command Chronology, 1–31 May 1967, Marine Corps Archives, History

Division, Quantico, VA.

Chapter Five

———

214

from that. Could I help being pregnant with a new permanent? At least

this time, I won’t be pregnant!

I said this was going to be short. . . . I’m worried about money. I wish

you’d write me one of your reassuring letters. All three kids have to go to

the dentist again tomorrow and I read $2,409 in the bank book, with the

$337 plane ticket still to go. There goes my $363, so I’m still where I am.

Mother keeps saying I don’t have to pay everything at once but what’s

the difference? She says the difference is cash on hand. I don’t know. I just

worry and NEED YOU. Now that I’ve almost got you in hand, like two

weeks away, I keep thinking my problems will be solved. You’ll say, “It’s

okay, Honey. Everything will be fine.” That’s what you’ll say, isn’t it? No!

That’s what I’ll say to you, and we’ll have a fine time fooling each other.

Only difference is I trust you, except when it comes to buying boats! All

right, I’ll take that back. You’ve really been ribbed enough and I love your

boat. How’s that?

XXXs

Gig

———

215

MARCH 1967

Wednesday night

1 March 1967

Hello!

Just two weeks to you know what! Next week, a guy is going to reserve our

hotel room at the Ilikai. Today, I got paid, tomorrow update my shots, and

look out! My clothes are going to be a mess probably. I shouldn’t need any

the first couple of days, right? I guess you heard the news reports. They

finally hit Da Nang a couple of days ago and today one of the [units] up

north had a real fight.

Well, that’s the name of the game, you know. To-

day was our (the group’s) 25th birthday and for some idiotic reason Gen-

eral Lewis W. Walt and General Louis B. Robertshaw flew down and cut

a cake at the officer’s club.

You’d never guess what the cake said, “Happy

25th Birthday MABS-13 and many more.” I almost died. It should have

been MAG-13; the entire group not just us! Even Colonel Dan H. John-

Maj Gary L. Telfer, LtCol Lane Rogers, and V. Keith Fleming Jr., “Spring Action South

of the DMZ—February-April 1967,” in U.S. Marines in Vietnam: Fighting the North Vietnam-

ese, 1967 (Washington, DC: History and Museums Division, Headquarters Marine Corps,

1984).

Marine Air Base Squadron 13, Marine Aircraft Group 13, Command Chronology

( ComdC) 1–28 February 1967, Marine Corps Archives Branch, Quantico, VA.

Chapter Six

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216

son the new group commanding officer said, “Got telegrams from the 2d

Wing” (he meant 1st Wing and that’s what Robertshaw is). Talk about

bloopers. Even General Walt (III Marine Amphibious Force commander)

got stuck on “professionalism” and . . . it has been a bad day. Starting with

the club not having beer, missing supper, playing poker till 2130, and a

0500 brief this morning. Ugh, weather reconnaissance in I Corps area.

The clouds were there all right between my ears!

You say you wonder which operation I’ve been working in. Would

you believe 99 percent of them are in I Corps? I can’t keep track of all the

names of the campaigns, and all this box score per se doesn’t mean much

to me just what sort of a hop do I have and what can I make of it. I got a

copy of U.S. Navy lieutenant Dieter Dengler’s evasion report today (the

unexaggerated version and well classified).

We have to turn it back in 36

hours and it is 4.5-inches thick! I’ll read it next year. . . . Finally beat the

skipper in buying the drinks after the “party.” I told him his breaking-in

period was over and from now on it was every man for himself. I don’t

think I’ve ever beat him on a dice roll before. He threatened to write you

and say, “Due to the exigencies of the service and the various combat

problems in a Marine Aircraft Group in Chu Lai, Major Stice will have

to forgo R&R.” I warned him not to mess with my 105-pound, 5-foot-tall

monster wife; you’d burn him up and explode all over him! Thank you!

Blam—someone’s trying to break all the glasses. If they’re outgoing,

bon voyage! If they’re incoming, stay out, you bastards! I guess it’s outgo-

ing. You can hear the rounds out a ways. Would you believe I have the

0500 predawn patrol again tomorrow? That’s worse than the dawn patrol,

you know? It’s drizzly and black and better do it early tonight. Like now,

Baby. Don’t mind if I stifle a couple of yawns, do you? R&R where are

you? Coming, coming! . . .

Goodnight, Darling.

I love you,

Ray

K . L

For more on the February 1966 incident, see Stuart Anderson, “Dieter Dengler: Heroic

Immigrant Pilot Who Escaped POW Camp,” Forbes, 20 March 2017.

March 1967

———

217

Thursday

2 March 1967

Hi Darling,

I’m having a bit of trouble getting a letter off to you. That’s what happens

to daytime letters. Nighttime ones are the best.

. . .

You wrote us a great letter yesterday. The one to the kids and me and

they were all pleased to be talked to in person. A little surprised that you

know so much that’s going on! A little birdie told you and they forget that.

They were speechless and caught red-handed not writing their letters. Per-

haps this will produce some, but don’t hold your breath. The weather has

turned good and it’s like spring, so they are full of beans and play every

afternoon.

I’m like a bowl full of mush after one of your letters. You really do get

to me in more ways than you know! I feel like a dog for making you think

I was so upset about the first no-go. Really, it is so much better this month

for us both that we should thank the commanding officer. He was sweet

to want to write me an apology. I think the strain of holding back your

normal instincts in order to do the jobs you have to do is the hardest thing

for all of you. You have to put everything else aside and that takes such

tremendous self-will and discipline. Everything is a life-or-death matter, so

you just walk around on alert all day every day, and it’s no wonder it takes

five or six beers to come down. And even then, you’re still turned on a

little. I’m so proud of the way you can sleep. That’s proof of how intensely

you use yourself. Only I wish you could share my peaceful moments like

now and listen to the birds. In short, just live a little. I think you must not

try to roar around in Hawaii keeping me happy. Really, I’m a very quiet

type at heart, and I’ll be content just to be near you and watch you un-

wind. I fully expect to gaze out a window waiting for you to wake up. I did

it in Fort Worth the first day you were home from Japan. Your clock has

to unwind a long way to get down to my speed. And then we’ll tick-tock

together at a nice slow speed regardless of the hula hullabaloo! I’ll teach

you to daydream if you’ll let me. You start by pouring sand through your

fingers. No, I’ll start by turning you off (after a relaxing welcome) and then

put you back on keel very slowly—no wisecracks—well, maybe a few but

only for laugh therapy. You’ll probably say, “Do you want to do such and

such” 10 times not believing me when I say no. Then after a long while,

Chapter Six

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218

you’ll say I want to do such and such, and I’ll say, “Yes.” I think you’re

ready to pour sand through your fingers. In short, I’ll let you be number

one guy—hog heaven. Let’s face it, you have been working harder than I

have, though I put on a good front! I think I’m going to like being a wahini

[Polynesian woman]! If the Hawaiian types don’t steal my thunder!

Well, obviously I’m having a lovely time thinking about it and you are

too, and it is quite unbelievable.

. . .

My only problem is shoes at the moment. No one has my small size

and I need to shop some more.

A little noisy alarm clock named Kathy just went off in the bedroom,

so best I go turn her off.

A thousand kisses and hugs.

Gig

K . L

Friday night

3 March 1967

Hi Honey,

No more of that left-handed writing. It’s worse than mine!

So sorry you had to get a shot. Would you believe I got five? Gamma

globulin, plague, typhus, typhoid, and cholera all dumped in my skinny

blood-streamed arm at once? Ugh, well I told them no flying this morn-

ing. I could be out to lunch. Course there’s no place to turn in bed. There

is a certain looseness from the damn malaria pills. I’m not in too bad a

condition—almost ready pour voir [see]!

Beautiful day today—high 80s and crystal clear. After five months run-

ning behind, I’m now convinced you’re probably not supposed to even

catch up to start with. There’s just a certain amount of paper and a whole

bucket full of projects that keep getting reprioritized. And then out of the

blue, one of these insignificant pimps billows into a multiman hour first

class project and I should have completed like last week. And we have to

stop teaching so much “improvising” (a.k.a. stealing, shortcuts, and do

it now regardless). I guess what they want is a well-oiled (stateside like)

garrison in a combat area, and they aren’t altogether compatible. Some-

times they are. One of our bunkers on the perimeter is all fixed out with

fancy homemade signal/detection devices with corner wire and flashlight

March 1967

———

219

batteries and, next to the entrance, sits a carefully watered and tilled thin

little patch of ground with lettuce, watermelon, and celery shoots just

breaking the soil—shows they’re thinking about it anyway.

Decisions, decisions, always decisions—drink with the boss, play pok-

er with Lou Gagnon and Jack Acey, or write WIFE!

Thought I saw a ghost tonight. Bill Bieber (VT-25) allegedly got hit

and punched a couple of days ago down during Operation Desoto.

was at our bar laughing and scratching, but it turned out he was sched-

uled for this particular hop but another guy “took it.” Our word about

Marine Aircraft Group 12 (MAG-12) an something else. Remember Lieu-

tenant Colonel Jerome T. Colonel Hagen? He was recommended for a

Distinguished Flying Cross from MAG-12. Both Charles S. Esterline and

Lawrence A. “Larry” Whipple same, same. You remember them from

Class and Quantico? Well, don’t sweat if you don’t. Remember ME? I’ll

reorient you in a couple of weeks if you desire.

Would you believe it’s 2100 and bedtime? I just saw the scheduling of-

ficer and he asked about the early, early tomorrow—that’s enough for me.

. . .

Sure would like to kiss you right now. I think I’ll do hand flips the

first time or just take off in orbit. Mind peeling me off the walls of the Il-

ikai when we first clash? Still can’t believe it’s true and less than two weeks

away. Goodnight, Darling.

Pleasant dreams (are coming!)

I love you, Gig,

Ray

K . L

Friday night late

3 March 1967

Darling Sweet,

Oh my gosh, I just looked at the calendar and it’s only about a week

and three days away now. Your letter today, “Are you ready?” No, I’m not

ready, not ready at all. Next week will be frantic panic. Everything keeps

Operation Desoto was a Marine Corps relief mission that lasted from 27 January to 7

April 1967. See Telfer, Rogers, and Fleming, “The War in Southern I Corps,” in U.S. Ma-

rines in Vietnam: Fighting the North Vietnamese, 1967.

Chapter Six

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220

intruding. Like having all four kids home today plus babysitting Sarah

all day. That’s not thinking about us at all. That’s just routine toil. We’re

both such old work horses now. How can we ever turn into swans? Will

you recognize me as work horse covered with swan’s down?

You know, I wish we could have shared this day today. It was a freak

spring/summer day, and Karen kept telling me she had spring fever.

Mother had it yesterday. In fact, we all had it. We had to eat dinner by

candlelight and porch light with the cool evening breeze blowing in. No-

body could decide whether we needed the porch light too, so there was

much jumping up and down switching it on and off. . . .

Kirk went up and got his first job—50 cents at a construction site at

the Methodist Church. A more radiant boy you’ve never seen. They let

him carry boards in and out, and he got thirsty and had blisters on his

hands. We couldn’t find him and had to leave to get Sarah, but fortunate-

ly saw him at the site. Both sisters scolded him for disappearing, but all

us women were proud of his accomplishment. On the way back from the

Austin’s with Sarah in the car, we stopped at the Camp Mabry military

display and had a lovely climb on the plane and tanks.

It was that kind

of day. . . .

So, there it is. All of us missing you so. I know it must seem strange to

you to be writing a wish-you-were-here letter with the excitement of seeing

you there so near, but some days are so full of joyous living with children

they should be shared by the eyes of the only other person who can see

and feel like you do—meaning you, my husband and father of my children.

And somehow the seeds of our love are beginning to show such lovely blos-

soms now. The hard years really are over. They are such beautiful children.

Now, back to reality. You flying ever so early hops with guns and cam-

eras going at the same time and so many missions already and so many

yet to go. It will all be over when you’re home in five or six more months.

Got to hang on. Thank God for Hawaii. Is it real? Time for bed. It’s 0030.

Thanks for being you. Thanks for marrying me. I love you.

Gig

See you at the Ilikai or R&R. I’ll find you.

Camp Mabry is one of the oldest military installations in Texas and houses the Texas

State Guard, Texas Military Department, Texas Military Forces, and Texas Military Forces

Museum.

March 1967

———

221

K . L

Saturday night

4 March 1967

Darling,

Maybe you’ll get this before, maybe after, but it’s so close now to the time

we’ll be together I can hardly bring myself to write. Yet, I hate letting a day

go by without talking to you like this.

It’s been a rugged three days for me. Kids home for one thing—school

conference on Friday)—and out of town guests in and out today. Saturday,

we cleaned house all day and everything was spotless.

. . .

Then I watched Porgy and Bess on TV, and it’s midnight again and I

am pooped.

Everyone has admired my Hawaii clothes and all are so happy for us.

Still so much to do next week!

So, best I close up shop and, Baby, do let’s have fun, just us, no rela-

tives in Hawaii. I don’t want to think relatives for two days!

I love and miss you so.

Goodnight, Dearest,

Gig

K . L

Sunday night

5 March 1967

Hello Sweet Thing,

. . .

Today the skipper actually did write you a letter. How about that? It’s all

sealed and I’ll bring it along. Naturally, I’m curious what he said, but it’s

your letter not mine. It’s addressed to Mrs. Ray Stice–Hawaii. Are you

going somewhere, Baby? Wife, once in a while I let myself go and actually

think about it—the trip that is. What else? It’s so great, it’s still unbeliev-

The original 1925 play Porgy by Dubose Heyward and subsequent Porgy and Bess opera by

George Gershwin (1935) and then movie (1959) were considered somewhat controversial

due to racial overtones. The film adaptation was only shown once on American television

in 1967.

Chapter Six

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222

able. I guess I won’t believe it until I get you in my arms and, even then,

it’ll take a real long hard hug to remove the doubts. A couple of weeks

ago, I quit looking at those damn Playboy pictures, closed the locker doors,

hung two [pictures] of you sitting next to the hearth on the outside, and

said to myself: “That’s your wifesan, that’s your sweet loving mate, mother

of your beautiful children, pride of your life, your wife, the essence of your

soul.” And if I do peek at one of the fanny’s, it’s yours not theirs... Rather

look at you than some fake pinup.

. . . . Kirk, look what I sent you. This is something that you and Karen

and Robin can take to school. It’s a leaflet that says, “Welcome aboard.

Why don’t you stop being a bad Vietcong and come back to your home

and family. We’ll take good care of you and let you live where your ances-

tors lived. And if you have any friends that are tired of fighting and killing

and want to stop being a Communist, bring him along. Chieu Hoi—the

friendly hand.” Sometimes we shoot paper at them. These were fired this

morning real close to Chu Lai, and some of them blew back into the air-

field outside my office.

God, I miss you, Gig—mentally, physically, sexually, socially—the

entire bit. I miss your lips, your hands, you, even your lousy feet. Why

should I have to look at some stupid Playboy picture to see you? All I want

is you, nobody else, just you. I don’t think it was intended that women

were supposed to understand this problem, but it is more than I can cope

with. I can hide it in the daytime, but not at night. When I write to you,

it’s all ALL you—no airplanes, no sky, no job, just you. Sometimes it takes

hours to write a simple damn letter—hours. You have to understand the

parameters—you’re dead or alive—I’m alive. You remember those pictures

you found in North Carolina that day you were trying to get life insurance

number for me? I wish I had them of you now. It would be the brightest

spot on the horizon, barring our R&R in Hawaii. No man in his right

mind likes to be with other women, think about other women, that would

be a horrible mistake. What ye take before God, forsake not. Covet not

thy neighbor’s wife. Honor and bless the bonds that bind thee.

It may

not be any closer to the bible than I am to church, but that’s how I’ve

always felt anyway.

I told the chaplain the other day that I’d break my neck to help him

get set up and build a chapel, but I don’t know if I’d ever get there when

Stice’s adaptation from the Ten Commandments in Exodus 20:17.

March 1967

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223

it was built.

We are working more now—not less—can’t even do my own

laundry now. No time to even go to the PX. We’re pushing 800 personnel

now, counting the medical and chaplain.

Like busy. Yawns are so good

for the soul, and a tired yawn is such a complete 180 from a bored yawn.

I’d damn near forgotten their existence.

For more on U.S. Navy and Marine Corps chaplains during the war, see Cdr Herbert

L. Bergsma, Chaplains with Marines in Vietnam, 1962–1971 (Washington, DC: History and

Museums Division, Headquarters Marine Corps, 1985).

According to the command chronology, MABS-13 strength was approximately 755,

though this may not account for personnel officially assigned to another unit or those

in the process of transferring. Marine Air Base Squadron 13, Marine Aircraft Group 13,

Command Chronology (ComdC) for 1–31 March 1967, Marine Corps Archives Branch,

Quantico, VA, hereafter MABS-13 ComdC, March 1967.

Figure 27. Gig Stice at home in Austin, TX, ca. 1967

Source: Stice family collection.

Chapter Six

———

224

Goodnight, Darling. It will be so good to see you again . . .

Love you, Ray

0130 [same day]

Hello again. They hit us a few minutes ago, but no tremendous prob-

lems.

Going back to bed. I still probably have the early early.

XXXs,

Ray

K . L

Tuesday night

7 March 1967

Hi Honey,

No electricity, no nothing. The candle is supposed to be nondenomina-

tional, so I guess it’s safe to use it.

The Ilikai wouldn’t take reservations before 10 March, so I gave our re-

quest for a reservation to a lieutenant and a flight surgeon [here]. They’re

leaving tomorrow, and they’ll be on their way home the same time we’re

on our way to Hawaii, so neither one of us will really know where we’re

going to stay. Just remember one thing—no, two things—1) have faith; and

2) check with the woman that helps get reservations at the R&R center. If

I had my druthers, I’d reserve you a room looking out at Diamond Head

for $26 a day (and it just could cost that much). But the way they operate,

it’s like Christmas, you don’t know until the last minute. At least we have

two nice guys looking for a room for us. That’s the main thing. I did have

the early early this morning like I thought—weather recon. Hell, we had

enough of our own weather let alone go out and look for more! Captain

Clyde C. Simon was in the back and after checking the weather at one

spot below Quang Ngai and climbing back through the crap on top, I gave

the aircraft to Clyde. Clyde says, “I’ll check Khe Sanh’s WX [weather] in a

few minutes,” thinking he was heading north. I said, “What’s your head-

MABS-13 ComdC, March 1967, 2. The official record reported: “At 0030 6 March 1967

approximately 20 82mm Mortar rounds fell on the Chu Lai Airfield. No Casualties were

received.”

Decades after the fact, the candle was was still visible on the original letter.

March 1967

———

225

ing, Clydson?” He says, “210 (southeast).” “What do you want, Clyde?” [It

should have been] 310. Would you believe we’re headed for either Laos

or Pleiku, not north to Hue, Phu Bai, or Khe Sanh. Life’s little mistakes,

and we were both instructors yet! After a full day, which started with the

mortar attack at 0030 and ended with my favorite mess sergeant’s only

can we change this to “biological” son’s (with three older adopted sons)

death tonight. Of course, we got him a ride to Okinawa in two hours with

26 days emergency leave. Really a shame . . . six months old and never saw

him. Quite tragic. We were quite fortunate in the attack with only seven

wounded. . . .

Don’t quite understand it, but the group executive officer is still mon-

itoring my flight time. He told the boss that he had two majors that were

flying too much for the jobs they held (me and the base operations offi-

cer). I didn’t know four-and-a-half hops a week was “too much.”

If you’d believe me, I’d say I was tired as hell and it’s been quite a long

and very thorough day any way you slice it.

So, and therefore, I submit it’s time to sleep now.

Goodnight, Baby,

Ray

K . L

Thursday

8 March 1967

Darling,

I’m still going around in circles but getting there! Have to return some

shoes this morning. Dear Karen Kirkpatrick sent two pairs up from Hous-

ton, which fit and go with my clothes, so that problem is solved.

And I changed my reservation to come back 22 March instead of

the 21st. Your letter said 21st absentmindedly probably still thinking 21

February, and I made it for 21 March but then decided to change it to the

22d to make it safe.

Things are shaping up though, and it seems very probable I’ll make it

to Hawaii after all! . . .

I’ll arrive around 1420 on 15 March and go I guess to the Ilikai and

call the R&R people or something like that! Hope you got our reserva-

tions okay. I know you are looking forward to it even more than I if that’s

possible!

Chapter Six

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226

I almost stopped writing on Tuesday, figuring I’d get to you before a

letter but, just in case, here one is!

Sorry about your shots, but it probably needed doing anyway and I’m

sure the effects are over by now.

All for now.

Whoopee!

See you,

Gig

K . L

Thursday night

9 March 1967

Hi Honey,

First off, let’s get one thing straight, I love you . . . unequivocally, even if

I’m the type that doesn’t write his own mother. You’re my wife, not her.

You probably won’t get this letter until after you get back from R&R. I’ve

hardly dared let myself think about it too much. All I know is keep work-

ing and one of these days I’ll be swept up and gone like a bird back to you

. . . too much to describe and, according to your latest antimush letter,

shouldn’t be described at all! Never should have said that! All you get is

hard times now, Lulu Belle. . . .

Your finances slay me—probably the only Vietnam wife with a $2,600

headache of too much loot. Just thank the Lord it’s not in reverse and

you didn’t have that much. You’re right, I’m saving, you’re spending. It’s

okay, so don’t sweat it. Just manage your expenses at the rate of a balance

of $200 less each month and you’re at the right expenditure rate. Besides,

you’re learning how the buck does get spent and that’s good experience.

. . .

Hey wahini, you sound like you have some real sweet children! Like

to share them with you again one of these days. Well, guess I’d better not

think about that too much.

This morning we shipped out over 1,500 Army of the Republic of

Vietnam (ARVN)—the ground forces of the South Vietnamese military—

This may be a reference to Lulu Belle from the husband and wife country music team

of Lulu Belle and Scotty, who were known for their WLS Chicago radio broadcasts and

themes of perfect relationships and rural life.

March 1967

———

227

all rigged and ready for anything, and this afternoon had an F-4 with an

engine fire that was almost spectacular before we got it out. Plus, Colonel

Owens finally flew in from Okinawa, only I missed him. He was only here

for a couple of minutes, had to get on over to Hong Kong, sorry.

Whoa, my eye lids almost won the battle. Sleep time, I guess! It’s a

good, tired sleep. Not too bad just lonely, of course.

You sure had a good notion of turning off and running down and

unwinding. Yeah, sounds like what the doctor ordered. Let’s have a little,

as long as it’s together, I could care less what!

I sure do love you,

Ray

K . L

Wednesday night

22 March 1967

Hello Darling,

I just smiled at myself in the mirror. It was the thought of our shared mo-

ments in the bathroom at the Ilikai. It just hit me that you really did see

me in the mirror over there and now there’s only one reflection. I miss

that other one who hogged the mirror!

Oh Baby, it really was weird coming home last night. I let myself cry

a bucket finally on the last hour in the dark to Austin. Don was there to

meet me, and we walked in the house around 0130. The house seemed

so strange, like I’d never been in it before. Mom had moved furniture in

every room, which I didn’t mind, but it added to my sense of isolation. I

didn’t really want to be back, but I couldn’t wait to open the suitcases and

somehow bring Hawaii in with me.

That did the trick. In short order, the living room looked like a flow-

erpot with muumuus spread all over the place and the three sleepy-eyed

kids, Mom, and Don stunned by it all. I wanted them to share the feeling

of being overwhelmed and they did. Finally, around 0300, we were all in

bed, only to get up again at 0700.

By then, the lack of sleep and crying showed and felt in my eyes, but I

was still keyed up and didn’t collapse until later when Mom left. . . .

The sleep really helped me get over the awful part of missing you. I

think I’d never have stopped crying if I hadn’t slept. Somehow, this time

leaving you, I didn’t have to be brave for the kids and I think I cried for

Chapter Six

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228

every leave-taking you’ve ever made. I just kept wishing you could have

had that kind of release too. But I consoled myself that you were disci-

plined enough to sleep on the plane. I couldn’t see which window was

yours, though there was a lot of waving at the back and I just wish we had

thought to make one last window signal. But the waves were like heart-

beats from each window, and we all felt the same at that moment.

Fortunately, I didn’t let down then but raced for the women’s room

and left physically better if not mentally! Figured you did the same.

I was overweight with the bags, but he said to get them weighed again

at Los Angeles (LA). So then, I had breakfast and sat by a corpsman’s wife

(Da Nang), who ended up being beside me on the LA flight and helped

me carry the four bags to the Air Bus and to the American terminal. She

didn’t know the way, so I helped her find it and on return she helped

me. I was $6 overweight at LA—not bad. . . . The important thing was the

planes all worked! So, the kids aren’t completely parentless. Leaving them

parentless for even a week is pretty hard on them.

I realized this today when Karen said the teacher and class made a

“big deal” after she mentioned some of the danger you had experienced

at takeoff from Da Nang, and she said it made her nervous that they were

Figures 28 and 29. Ray and Gig Stice during R&R, Honolulu, HI, ca. 1967

Source: Stice family collection.

March 1967

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229

talking about her daddy all of a sudden and she actually shook. I guess

she knows we can talk about it and be brave, but she doesn’t like others

to, and I told her I agreed and understood completely.

I’m much more conscious of the danger surrounding you now, prob-

ably because of hearing the other girls and people talk, but I’ll work on

controlling that. I’ve just suddenly started biting my nails!

It was so great, Sweetheart, every bit, even the fighting and the won-

derful making up. Boy, old eagle-eyed Robin asked if we had a fight and I

lied like a trooper. Some things she’d never understand!

The old USA looked so dull after Honolulu and I wondered how

you’d ever stand it. Now I know a little bit about the way others live again.

You forget that here, and it’s good to get a refreshing look at others. We

certainly aren’t as kind, gentle, thoughtful, colorful, etc. as they are or as

imaginative in the art of living. I learned a lot.

Now, its midnight and I’m tired again and can’t play Cinderella any-

more, but I’m so glad for that oasis in our year. It will keep us both going

over this last hump. When our hands reach out again via these letters, I

can readjust. I’ll tell you this one last thing, Sweetheart. I never loved you

Figures 30. Maj Ray Stice, pictured here as a captain, in front of the op-

eration board

Source: Stice family collection.

Chapter Six

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230

more. Now, do let’s be brave and all will be good like that again ever so

soon.

Sweet Kisses,

Gig

K . L

Thursday

23 March 1967

Hi Sweetheart,

Hate to start this up again. Finally got to Da Nang yesterday afternoon

about 1600 and couldn’t get on down here until today. Da Nang always

has something impressive going on and, about 0300 this morning, a

Grumman A-6 Intruder ran into a big, huge Air Force transport, and we

had fireworks and 500-pound bombs going off next to transit quarters for

two hours.

Used the same bunker again.

I don’t know how or any other way to say it, but Major David W.

Morrill went in just below the DMZ Saturday afternoon. He was making

his fourth run on this machine gun nest and must have been hit during

the pull-out from the side. They thought there was only one position, and

it turned out there were seven. Tried to search the area, but it’s strictly

Indian territory. He’s (and the radar observer) listed as missing, but there

doesn’t seem to be much doubt about the matter. They almost recalled

me from R&R, but a Lieutenant Colonel Kenny C. Palmer volunteered

to take over MABS, and when I got in today he had just been assigned

commanding officer.

Some homecoming, huh? It’s a terrible thing, hard

to adjust to. He was such a tremendous individual in all respects, really a

shame.

Hate to put a dent on things. Our R&R was so beautiful and this is

hard to accept.

This incident was one of the worst aviation accidents of the conflict, when an air traffic

controller mistakenly cleared two aircraft for takeoff at the same time. The Marine Corps

A-6 Intruder attempted to avoid the collision, but sliced through the nose of the Air

Force Lockheed C-141 Starlifter, causing the fire and subsequent explosions. The intruder

rolled, but the crew escaped serious injury. Five of the C-141 crew were killed. See Chris

Hobson, Vietnam Air Losses: United States Air Force, Navy and Marine Corps Fixed-wing Air-

craft Losses in Southeast Asia 1961–1973 (Hinkley, UK: Midland Press, 2001)

MABS-13, ComdC March 1967, 1.

March 1967

———

231

Best thing now is to get some sleep for a change. Sure didn’t get any

last night. It was wonderful, Honey, just truly great.

Love,

Ray

K . L

Thursday night

23 March 1967

Darling Sweet,

. . .

I’m getting itchy for a note that you’re back myself. It’s hard to get

back in our foxholes again, but there’s still 32 weeks to go. Do hope the

weather is better for you and that you weren’t too exhausted when you got

back. The way I collapsed, I was surprised at myself. . . . We did get some

sleep over there, that I know!

Everyone has loved their shirts, muumuus, and all of it. The only one

that didn’t fit was the pink muumuu. Too small. So, I get to keep that one

and end up with four, which makes me the big pig and I love it!

Mom tried on the blue one meant for Milly and, since her disappoint-

ment over the pink one was so great, I let her have it and I’ll order another

one for Milly. But both of the tent muumuus were great and even Helen

liked hers.

The kids have enjoyed the ukulele tremendously. They took it and

a guitar to school for lessons today in music class. Kirk made his boat

immediately and is sanding and lacquering it. And went out and got an-

other model car to make after finishing the boat. He took his picture to

school, wore his shirt to school, and the girls are waiting until theirs are

shortened breathlessly!

Kathy really made me laugh when she looked at our picture at the

airport and saw you holding my bag. She was in the bedroom standing on

the bag at that moment, and she couldn’t figure out how it could be in

two places at once! She said bag and pointed to the picture and her feet

several times. Her pride and joy was to say, “I got shoe,” when I got home.

Mom had bought her new pair, and she was showing them off all over the

place. She likes the flower bracelets too.

. . .

I guess I’m coming out of the clouds a bit but still miss you terribly.

Chapter Six

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232

At least, I don’t weep anymore. It was just so darn good being with you.

I’ll admit I’d like it on a full-time basis again. Everybody warned about the

wrench of leaving, and I knew it too, but it was still worth it.

Well, goodnight, Dearest. There’s a long Easter weekend of kids

ahead (four days) and I’m not going to Houston, so best I save my strength.

P.S. I bought a pineapple, guava jelly, and Hawaiian punch today so

the kids could have a “taste” of Hawaii. But it’s still not like the real thing.

So glad we have the memory of the real thing to share in private.

Goodnight again, Sweetheart,

Gig

P.S. Did “Dave” like my letter? I know I was a bad girl to be so flip at

the end of it. Sorry about me. Will you keep me anyway? I love it best

when you wince and say nothing. There must be something there you like.

Thank God for that.

K . L

Friday night

24 March 1967

Hello Darling,

Strangely enough, I happened to turn the TV on tonight just as CBS was

showing a naval photograph essay on Marine air at Da Nang and Chu Lai.

Mostly Da Nang and mostly about Marine Fighter Attack Squadron 323

(VMFA-323) commanded by Lieutenant Andrew W. O’Donnell.

They

showed McDonnell Douglas F-4B Phantom IIs, plus building the runway

on the sand at Chu Lai, so it was probably an old film. But it showed

bomb runs, some captured Viet Cong, the mechanics at Da Nang, and

one arrested landing at Chu Lai. It was a smaller aircraft, which I assume

was an F-9. So how about that? It was pretty blurred, but I sat on the edge

of my seat just because it involved you. Your films will be much better,

I’m sure.

We’re all wet here in a nice rain we had today. There is such a thing as

a welcome rain! The grass is beginning to need mowing and the trees are

all almost out. Makes everything nicer, of course.

Col Gerald R. Pitzl, A History of Marine Fighter Attack Squadron 323 (Washington, DC:

History and Museums Division, Headquarters Marine Corps, 1987), 29–35.

March 1967

———

233

. . .

Kirk brought home a clay dinosaur he made at school which he calls

a “Brontoborus” not Brontosaurus. We’ve gotten some laughs out of it

because it’s unsteady on its feet and looks like a Brontoborus.

I’m feeling much more relaxed about bills since our chat. That really

did me worlds of good. I was beginning to get quite tense about money,

as you know. I didn’t even wince when the washing machine leaked. So,

it leaks, so maybe I’ll get it fixed. Everything’s going to be okay cause my

papasan says so. At least I’m not worrying alone anymore! In fact, no wor-

ries just short fingernails. Hmm, they’re good!

I seem to notice . . . the full Vietnam reports now, but maybe that was

mostly to hear if you got back okay, and I feel sure you did now. Of course,

a letter will be “more better” than working it out myself.

Karen said, “Yeah” to a report that the Viet Cong could be rehabilitat-

ed. She wants “our” side to win in typical small-girl fashion. I told her to

be skeptical of long-term rehabilitation, but it is hard for her not to take

the news literally. At least she knows which side is which!

Well, Sweetheart, it really is bedtime. I’m back to my old habits of

making time by staying numb and dumb. For a while there, I sort of spar-

kled though, n’est-ce pas [isn’t it so]?

Many XXXs,

Gig

I LOVE YOU

K . L

Saturday night

25 March 1967

Hi Honey,

Well, things are slowing down to the usual whirlwind, although it’s still

hard to accept the fact that Dave isn’t around anymore. That particular

The CBS and ABC news broadcast reports on the evening news throughout much of

the conflict, including prime-time specials from Walter Cronkite, Morely Safer, and Dan

Rather. See Victoria E. Johnson, comp., “Vietnam on Film and Television: Documenta-

ries in the Library of Congress,” Moving Image Research Center, accessed 14 April 2023;

and Sarah Rouse, “South Vietnam’s Film Legacy,” Historical Journal of Film, Radio and

Television 6, no. 2 (1986): 211–22.

Chapter Six

———

234

area is quite hot, and they just haven’t been able to get a team in there yet

to verify the whole thing, but the evidence is quite strong.

Have you been undergoing the postpartum blues? Not yet? Well, I

hope you don’t. So far, I haven’t had time fortunately, although I man-

aged to have a headache the first day, symptomatic at least. If you do feel

an attack coming on, WORK LIKE HELL!

Had the early weather reconnaissance this morning. Nice way to start

the day, although it’s about 88 degrees, the breeze is blowing, and it start-

ed out to be quite a nice day after all.

. . .

Yeah, hello later, two weeks of not writing and I forget how.

The new skipper, Lieutenant Colonel Palmer, is trying to help get me

into VMFA-314. If they go out of country in June, it would be okay; but

if they don’t go until August, it wouldn’t work at all. It’s a chance anyway

you look at it. They just don’t know and VMFA-323 looks dimmer all the

time. I’m not alone in this particular problem, but that doesn’t make it

any easier.

When I was gone, the major’s slate came out—those are tentative as-

signments. I haven’t seen it yet, but Lou Gagnon said he thought I was

slated for the 2d Marine Aircraft Wing (2d MAW, Cherry Point or Beau-

fort). I’ll try to get a copy tomorrow. That isn’t what I’ve asked for, unless

that came off an old training communication and fitness report and they

haven’t updated their cards yet.

Boy, this afternoon was dustville, blowing sand in every nook and

cranny, ears and eyes. When the wind gets up to about 15 knots, we’ve

had it. I am slightly discouraged about this F-4 bit, everyone sympathizes,

but I still remember when my old drill instructor (DI) used to say sympa-

thy wasn’t in his book.

Huh? Think NICE thoughts? At a time like this? Okay, I’ll think

about you and the kids. How’s that for a nice thought? Mrs. Sex Box of

1967 and her four trained—gotta be careful or I’ll get bopped—beautiful

children! See, no guts.

Maybe I can get some Vietnamese to paint some eyeballs on your

snapshot. It looks like the half blind leading the blind!

Good night, Darling,

Ray

K . L

March 1967

———

235

Saturday night

25 March 1967

Darling Sweet,

Not much news to report tonight, except that I’m guilty of watching an

Figure 31. Maj Ray Stice, pictured here as a captain, wearing his flight suit

Source: Stice family collection.

Chapter Six

———

236

Alfred Hitchcock movie until 0030! Shades of you last Saturday at the

Ilikai. Bet mine was better than yours—Grace Kelly.

. . .

I find myself glad the kids didn’t come on the trip, because they aren’t

going through my bad case of missing you all over again. That’s why I’ll be

glad when a letter from you comes so I can feel something with you. It’s

no good to miss you alone! Misery loves company, it’s true.

And yet, I really don’t begrudge your being there. It’s just that I had

you for a while and didn’t really want to give you up. I’m not so generous

in my old age. Oh boy, it is nice when you’re around! Married life is pretty

good, especially when you don’t have it for a while! Then it’s heaven for

sure.

Well! Enough of that talk. Tomorrow is Easter, church, and dinner at

Mom’s and a hunt at Liz’s. . . .

I dream of Hawaii now when I fall asleep. That’s a safe time to remem-

ber lots of silly things like the man in the stuck elevator, you on the trash

can binge, etc. I realized today I still haven’t finished my roll of film on

the old camera, so I finished it up and you’ll get both rolls one of these

days—not too long now. I know how hard it is to wait and I’m going to be

more prompt where you’re concerned. Maybe even that little bit will help.

That’s what is hardest to do without you—be a disciplined person.

When you’re around, it doesn’t seem like work, but alone I have to boss

myself and I’m a lousy worker!

Well, this is going to be short. Alfred Hitchcock got the best of me

tonight. I’ll never scold you again on that score! Remember that.

Goodnight, Sweetheart,

Gig

K . L

Monday night

27 March 1967

Hi Baby,

Kathy baby that is! Fooled ya, didn’t I? Tell your mom, “Shut up, Mom,”

and then kiss her quick before she bops you!

Grace Kelly made three movies with Hitchcock: Dial M for Murder (1954), Rear Window

(1954), and To Catch a Thief (1955).

March 1967

———

237

Matter of fact, Kirk, you ask Mom to dance. Robin, you sing, and

Karen, you show them how! Then we’ll ask Pris to take movies of the

whole bit, because no one else has no camera guts. Uncle Don can play

the music. . . .

Yesterday afternoon, things started out wrong, and they’ve been

wrong ever since! I was scheduled for a jobber where you’re supposed to

refuel twice and come back about four hours later. Ugh, so I headed for

the head—first things being first—hung my pistol on a nail, preflighted the

aircraft, suited up, nada pistole (shit, or words to that effect), and couldn’t

find my dog tags to boot. Bad start. . . . Oh, that pistol, I gave it to the

uniformed police officer (UPO), he gave it to Clyde, he gave it to Kostanz-

za, he gave it to Bill, . . . he gave it to someone, and it appeared out of the

black in my hooch tonight after some mighty strange wanderings!

But behold, today is Monday. A chance to shine for our glorious

Corps. Somethings not quite right in the beginning though. . . . I was

scheduled for another one of those four-hour double in-flight refueling

bastards with a 0500 brief, and the guy wakes me up at 0530. See what

I mean? And worse yet, my playmate is none other than a guy I had to

play training command with just before R&R and salvage his landing. It’s

pitch black, but I jump down to MABS, grab my gear, (can’t get in because

the doors are locked). . . Down to H&M’s flight line late and stumble out

to the aircraft (no pistol, no chow). He’s preflighted it (with or without a

flashlight; never did find out), light off, ground control, taxi . . . there’s

a purely characteristic noise to aluminum scraping on concrete. The left

wheel collapsed and dragged the wing tip so we lurched to a stop (the

usual “What the f——k!”), unstrapped, leaped out of the sickly thing just

as the moon sank and the sun popped up to reveal he had taxied into an

uncovered unlit access hole in a new concrete refueling pit and broke the

left main gear like a toothpick, completely off. . . .

I know exactly how the mouse feels sniffing the cheese on the loaded

trap! Actually, it was worse still. As we landed yesterday after the abortive

2.2 [hours in], a plane captain came to get us in a NC-5 Curtis flying boat

. . . Clyde stood in the center and I stood on the right side. The driver,

feeling his oats, gunned the motor, shifted gears, did a hard left turn, and

LAUNCHED me into a low orbit! I had my helmet in my left hand (with

my movie camera and kneeboard inside) and my maps and hat in my right

hand. I thought two things: first, this vehicle was going too fast to run.

. . . By this time, Clyde and the driver are running back, I got up, every-

Chapter Six

———

238

thing intact, camera still in my helmet, maps still in my right hand, sore

elbow, and ribs. I asked the driver to slow down his cornerings, Dozo, and

put Clyde on the outside this time! Had a lousy time trying to sleep on

those particular spots. That’s why this morning seemed to start wrong. . . .

I have a goose egg on my left elbow, damned sore rib cage on the left,

and the most embarrassed face after that idiot taxiing into the hole this

morning. Some happy Easter! . . . I guess it’s time to take a belated hot

shower, clean my cruddy teeth, sweep the sandpile out of my bed, and

tune out the whole damned world, except the afterburners, and SLEEP.

Ah, life’s sweet remedy—sleep.

Good night, Baby,

Love YOU!

Ray

K . L

Monday night

27 March 1967

Darling,

I don’t know what to say to you about Dave. I’ve torn up three sheets

of paper already, so I won’t say anything. You said it all anyway, and you

know how I feel.

I was relieved to get your letter. God almighty, what a homecoming.

Sounded pretty awful all around. I don’t understand about these bombs

going off, but I’m glad you were safe. Poor Da Nang has really had it.

The crash of the Intruders was in the news too. I don’t know if that was

the same one. There have been so many. But the base must be huge, and

therefore it will recuperate. I’m just glad you’re not there.

We’re all fine here. The kids go back to school tomorrow. I will be

glad to get things back in shape again by going to the commissary. We’ve

sort of been existing on beans.

Everyone was colorful yesterday at the backyard party, Easter egg

hunt, and Sarah’s birthday. The girls and I wore our muumuus, leis, and

strummed the ukulele. Mom was bright as a red cherry in her red muu-

muu, as were Don and Sam. . . . As you can tell from the kid’s letters, it

was a full day. I practically slept through church, but revived at Mom’s

Sunday dinner.

March 1967

———

239

About Kirk’s letter, I said, “We never say anything to make Daddy

scared.” So he said, “I’m not scared” in his letter. He’s not scared much!

That one cries if I put butter on bread that he doesn’t want buttered. He’s

got a long way to go before he fills his daddy’s shoes, but he’s learning.

And he said what he did over my protesting, which shows he has guts at

least! It would appear our son has a little of us both in him. The weepy

part is me!

He wanted to see your medal, but I said you would show it to him

when you come home because it is yours. Besides which, I don’t want him

bragging, which seven-year old’s love to do. We struggled tearfully through

plus and minus tonight again. He felt better when the girls laughed at the

memory of how you stuffed the multiplication tables down Karen. Karen

said, “Daddy was in the yellow chair and I was on the floor, wasn’t I?” You

“taught” her math in a hurry! I give you Kirk next year. Same, same. I take

the second grade. You take the third.

The washing machine has a leaking filter. Parts ordered. Joe comes

tomorrow to cut the grass, which is nice and green. Austin is suddenly

as beautiful as Hawaii in its spring colors and weather quite perfect, only

I keep thinking there’s no place to go except to the lake or country. No

ocean that is! I’m a walking tourist guide for Hawaii still.

Goodnight, Darling. Take good care.

I love you.

Gig

K . L

Tuesday night

28 March 1967

Hello Darling,

One week ago, we parted. It seems like a year. The year. The whole damn

year.

I missed the news tonight, reading A Day in the Life of President John-

son.

Funny that it seemed interesting to me tonight. Last week, getting

off the plane in Dallas, the headlines seemed almost foreign to me, like

Jim Bishop, A Day in the Life of President Johnson (New York: Random House, 1967).

Chapter Six

———

240

I was a foreigner. Now, I’m a groovy American again. Maybe I shed my

American self so completely on the trip, I lost me along the way. I remem-

ber feeling awfully sympathetic toward a Hawaiian GI! I still feel like I left

a part of me behind. Must have been you. That’s it. Part of me went that

way. Well, hey you! Bring me home.

. . .

I went to the commissary today. That’s news? I always think of you on

the way out. It was fun when you drive. Pretty dull alone.

. . .

A letter I really wish I could write would be to your commanding

officer’s wife. Boy, I really sympathize with her, but that one would be too

tough for me I’m afraid.

. . .

I hope you got that main order of the day: sleep. I suppose you are

checking out the new commanding officer. A pretty rough adjustment

for everyone, I’m sure. I’m not expecting any letters until you have things

squared away again, but I keep writing just in case you come home tired

some night and a letter from me calms you down.

I would like to think so anyway. In a way, seeing you in Hawaii calmed

me down too. . . .

Goodnight, Darling Love.

Take good care,

Gig

P.S. Tell me if you need anything I can get for you.

P.P.S. Kirk found the medal by himself. Can’t hold that boy back. He was

very proud of it.

K . L

Wednesday night

29 March 1967

Hi Honey,

Got your crying postcard, your crying . . . letter, and finally it looks like

you’re out of the woods safely.

We’ve continued to have our own problems: another two big genera-

tors gave up the boot, a command staff noncommissioned officer (NCO),

Staff Sergeant Percy L. Wilford, dropped dead (28 years old) yesterday,

March 1967

———

241

the water station burned down, and a liquid oxygen bottle blew up at the

LOX [liquid oxygen] plant, hurting a couple of people some.

This sure

has been a wing dinger of a week, and then there’s Mom’s letter about

Uncle Hobey dying, and today’s only Wednesday!

One good thing, I got the two rolls of film from R&R today. I’ll bor-

row a projector tomorrow and see you again, even if second hand!

Did I tell you they darn near called me back from R&R? Apparently,

there was much discussion as to do it or not. Finally, some kind soul

intervened, and they decided not to. I think it was the new commanding

officer, Colonel Palmer. Anyway, I’m sure glad they left us alone. I’m sure

it was a hard decision, but I would have done the same thing. There are

times to just leave things alone.

But I have to admit, I had the damndest guilty feeling the first couple

of days, especially that first night at Da Nang when I heard about it. That

was grim. I’d been off having a ball while he gets killed fighting my war.

When I got back the next day, and Colonel Palmer had just been assigned

that minute, he handled it very well. He told me he could have had the

group S-3’s job, but he wanted Dave’s job out of respect for him and the

job he was trying to do and the sheer challenge of the job itself. Plus, he

figured I needed some help. He figured right—800 people is damn near

half of the entire group, all three gun squadrons, and H&MS to boot.

Listen to me, will you? Carrying on like a storm. Do me a favor and

turn me off, will you, Dozo? Its late and I and need a shower, like yesterday

after that three-and-a-half-hour hop. And I have the 0500 weather hop in

the morning. So, would you believe I dreamt we were walking in the shade

of some trees somewhere?

Kiss everyone for me, well almost. Sure glad everyone liked the muu-

muus and other goodies.

Goodnight, Darling, I love you,

Ray

K . L

MABS-13, ComdC March 1967.

Chapter Six

———

242

Wednesday night

29 March 1967

Hi Sweet,

Your Saturday letter came today. We’re only four days off, that’s not bad

at all. You always seem to one up me though. Your news sounds fresher

than mine. But I’ve finally figured out why that is. You just ignore my let-

ters and—absorb and ignore, I should say—I’m the one who answers your

letters. You don’t answer mine unless it’s a scornful aha! So, you’ve spent

another thousand bucks. As a matter of fact, that’s just what I did spend

in March $1,000. The bank statement came today and the incoming $363

did look a bit puny in comparison to the outgoing.

. . . A man on Johnny Carson’s show with ESP (85 percent accuracy

rate) has as ESP hunch the war will be over in Vietnam in April or May!

That really upped my spirits.

I saw pictures of the guys in the Mekong tonight, and really Chu Lai is

100 percent better than that. They were in water up to their necks in Viet

Cong country.

Report cards in today. Robin practically all As (i.e., all satisfactory or

excellent). One “needs to improve.” Karen had two “needs to improve,”

and Kirk 3. Kirk is the question mark.

The kids were in fine spirits tonight. . . . They all bubble. Such happy

kids.

And you do a lot for my spirits. I laughed out loud at you putting eye-

balls on my/our picture. You’re not supposed to stare at it! Just glance and

say, “Gee they look happy.” For heaven’s sake! My eyes are orange.

As for your advice to work like hell, that is good, very good, only I don’t

happen to have a war going on here. So, I just work like putter. . . .

I paid bills today, that I did, and drove out to take Mom’s car to a

garage, bring her back, and climb through trailers on display. We both

nixed buying a camper trailer ever. I just told her airily that we thought

we’d take the kids to Hawaii when we feel like a vacation. Why not? She

was impressed. I’m still fighting a battle that Austin seems dull after Ha-

waii. So, Cherry Point, North Carolina, or Beaufort, South Carolina,

even sounded kind of good. I just hate getting the kids stirred up though.

Episode no. 1,145, The Tonight Show, starring Johnny Carson, NBC, aired on 28 March

1967.

March 1967

———

243

It’s so peaceful here. They do seem contented. No problems. That I like,

of course.

Goodnight, Love, it’s midnight and this it is off to bed.

Yes, I miss you. Yes, I love you. Yes, yes, yes.

Gig

K . L

Friday night

31 March 1967

Hi Honey,

Well, I just wrote Aunt Myrtle. It’s a difficult thing to do and I always look

to your approval on something like that or that important. I hope I said

the right thing. . . .

Would you believe I have a real box of Cracker Jacks? Heard about

them for years, and this is the first time I ever had any. I see why Buster

Keaton seemed to enjoy that so much now!

I warned you this would be short SHORT. I had a real fanny-busting

double refueler today (three and a half hours). Besides that, after today’s

106-degree temperature, well yeah, have to crank up the JP shower.

Goodnight you all, all of you, all.

And love to YOU!

Ray

Cracker Jacks, first introduced in 1896, are individual boxes with molasses-flavored,

caramel-coated popcorn and peanuts that are well known for being packaged with a small

prize like a baseball card, rings, stickers, toys, temporary tattoos, or booklets.

———

244

APRIL 1967

Saturday

April Fools’ Day, 1967

Hi Dear,

Lord, I’m running a tight race with the mailman, but here goes anyway. I

didn’t write last night as I was reading about Captain Cook the one who

“discovered” the Hawaiian Islands. It’s a great book and I’d really like to

buy it for you.

Your third letter came yesterday, and it looked like you were celebrat-

ing April Fools’ Day early. Such a day! I really was sorry and surprised

about your jeep bump. Thank God, it was not serious. I can’t imagine

what it felt like, but I’ll bet you minimized it for my sake. You sounded

shook up, but plenty cheerful that no bones were broken. And the other

“accident” certainly didn’t sound like your fault either. That’s the trouble

with life; half the stupid things that happen aren’t our fault.

I just lost the race with the mailman. But that wasn’t my fault either.

Obviously, I was trying? . . .

. . .

[Jane Ball, the landlady] . . . said her husband, Vernon, was flying

Gig is likely referring to Alan Villiers, Captain James Cook (New York: Charles Scribner’s

Sons, 1967).

April 1967

———

245

out of Saigon—stuff for South Vietnam, and she’s only seen him five days

since January. That equals my average for seeing you almost! She said be-

ing a Marine wife was the only thing that could have prepared her for that

kind of life. He gets some hazardous duty pay I think, and that he’ll look

you up maybe. . . .

. . .

Now, back to your letter. I think those four-hour refueling hops sound

really rugged and I’m impressed, but I hope you don’t have to do them

often. And two in a row was too much. Almost found myself glad that

landing gear snapped. How’s that for close wife support!

Read about the mishap below Quang Ngai, where some bombs

dropped short. I hope it wasn’t anyone from Chu Lai that you know.

Thank goodness, you have such a really terrific attitude. Don’t ever stop

having it no matter what. By that I mean you don’t get emotional except

about things like gold charms that get thrown down incinerators and stu-

pid wives who do stupid things like throw gold charms, etc.

. . .

More rain. I sure buy sprinklers at the right time. Hallelujah, it’s $363

time. April is a nice short, lovely month too. So glad we used up good

old March with our holiday. It really was perfect, wasn’t it? Perfect with a

capital P. I know you had a lot on your mind, and that accounted for some

of those silences, but I guess I did get your mind off of things for a while

and as for me I lapped everything up like it was the most natural thing in

the world. Home to me is you, and you on a silver platter is even better.

What do I mean by that? You, without the kids around, treating me like

a queen that’s what.

No orders, no worries. Boy, we sure are going to do that again or

something darn close. One week off every year just for us. Or at least one

weekend!

Well, no more dreaming. Do you want me to mail you some movies?

It sounds like you have a place to run them off. Do you? I sure will get hot

on them if you do. I’m so glad you’ve got the ones from Hawaii. Do tell

me how they came out.

I’m going to play cards with Mom and the Austin’s tonight. Big Sat-

urday night again!

All for now, Sweet Man. I love you ever so much.

Gig

Chapter Seven

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246

K . L

Sunday night

2 April 1967

Hi Sweet Pie,

Wow, Sunday night at last. Every weekend is like pulling teeth—four teeth

that is. The kids run me through their personal high jumps, and each

time I wonder if I’ll make it with everyone still happy. Not that there’s

really that much sweat. But they put me through their paces.

. . . . How’s your elbow by the way? And ribs?

This afternoon (Sunday), we took a picnic lunch and drove to Lake-

way on Lake Travis. It was windy and we ate in the car, then drove around

Lakeway. Don was “worn out” from driving us, and I laughed and said,

“Think of Ray driving us all the way from Virginia trailing a boat!” He

said, “I don’t envy him,” but considered it a head-shaking feat, which

it was.

. . .

We talked of other trips to make this summer, and I even suggested

Colorado, but we were all pretty tired after just 24 kilometers to Lake Tra-

vis! I lowed [bragged] as how Hawaii still beats all beauty spots I’ve seen so

far. But Texas looks very pretty right now, of course, being spring and all.

The kids are really going into the active stage, wanting to ride horseback,

swim, etc. All physical things. . . .

And Kirk wants to try to build another orange crate car. I stalled him

(barely) from searching for crates at the grocery store today.

. . .

Mother says, “How do you stand Kirk?” He’s a running, jumping noise

maker. I just grab him by the arm as he flies by, and he automatically

ducks. And we all glare at him hard in restaurants, but even then, he’s

under the table getting old chewing gum.

Well, Dear Sweet, I didn’t mean to write a book about us. Just like to

talk to you, that’s all. We all dumped water out of the boat again and I got

it all dumped on me as usual! That boat doesn’t like me, I think! Going

to bed.

XXXs and hugs,

Gig

K . L

April 1967

———

247

Sunday night

2 April 1967

Hi Honey,

No letters today, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been thinking about

you. Yesterday, I was blessed with four letters: yours and the three writing

children. Now, those letters really were something else, really cute, and

just like each of them fortunately. I entertained notions of separate an-

swers, but not tonight. One of these days.

Last night, I slept under my fan. It keeps the mosquitoes off and me

cool at the same time. Although, coolness is relative; it was 108 degrees

yesterday. This morning, I had the early early weather reconnaissance, and

there was lots of detectable weather to recon and all the other lines were

out between weather stations. It’s really nice flying in good weather when

your instruments are working right, all the navigational aids and radars

help, and Ubon Ratchathani, Thailand, 362 kilometers away, fuel permit-

ting. My pen just ran out. . .

We’re really trying to fix up the hooch. I’m going to put in a back

porch for the TV, shower, and icebox, and one guy thinks he can scrounge

up an air conditioner. That would really do it. . . .

. . .

Between TV and afterburners, it’s hard to decide whether to listen

to the poker game or try to write, but I got some of those acoustical ear

covers they use down on the runway. I went to bed last night at 2030, and

I’m still yawning!

I bet I’ve told the R&R story 100 times, and it really was as great as

it sounds, wasn’t it? You’re sure over your return adjustment, aren’t you?

Still a little something there? . . . I have to admit, you’re RIGHT! I am

glad you’re not sweating the money so much. You must be aware of your

expenses. . . .

Pretty night here. The wind’s blowing hard, and the black skies are

splotched with deep pink areas behind the clouds. You know the feeling

just before a storm or during a quick break in a storm? All you want to do

is go outside and watch.

Slight delay of four hours here. I had to go meter loading a ship. It’s

late, and they’ll load like hell when they hear all the artillery. I’ll sleep (it’s

ours) good tonight, but the colonel still wants to be down at the docks at

dawn to see the ship before it pulls out.

Chapter Seven

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248

Good night, Sweet Baby.

I do love you!

Ray

K . L

Monday night

3 April 1967

Darling Sweet,

It’s so good when Monday comes at last and there’s your letter making me

laugh at my “tearful-sleep-in . . . days.” You reduce my torrent of words to a

workable trickle. I try but I simply cannot be as succinct as you. Terse may-

be yet? No, you aren’t terse, you’re succinct, even if I can’t spell it. I feel it.

It was a good day for me today. . . .

But back to my good day. Number one, I got off a 10-page letter to

Milly, plus pictures of you and kids, plus beads. Ver y good. . . .

Then number two good news was the orthodontist said to wait an-

other 8–12 months before we start orthodontic treatments for Karen. . . .

So no more dental visits for the kids until fall, and we’ll get the name

of a good orthodontist whenever we move and maybe in the meantime,

we’ll get dental Medicare passed this year, who knows?

. . .

Yes, you did mention the near recall, and I wasn’t surprised at the

grim night at Da Nang, but I was glad to see you snap out of it when you

saw the need to keep on. It sure helps to keep your head on.

I read about a GI who got overrun, but a volunteer managed to bind

his wounds and stuff dirt around him, so the next day he was found and

saved.

On to the ironing board! Goodnight, Dearest.

Gig

K . L

Tuesday night

4 April 1967

Hi Baby,

How’s yours? Mine’s fine! And here’s a picture to prove it. Looks tired?

April 1967

———

249

Yep . . . three early earlies in a row and a blinding sun yesterday afternoon,

that’s what happens to us middle agers.

. . .

Seat belts in airplanes were made to use all the time, not just when

the storm lights up. See, I don’t ignore your letters (completely!)

You think you’re confused! I’ll give you an example of “who done

what to whom.” Inbound and outbound stuff—KABOOM. “We’re be-

ing attacked,” [and a] call for “mortar illumination rounds so we can

see.” KABOOM, KABOOM, KABOOM, KABOOM! “We’re being hit

again. More illumination rounds quick!” “What?” “Are you kidding me?”

“CEASE FIRE!”

End of soliloquy. This one took some real figuring. First, a short ar-

tillery round caused them (MAG-12) to think they were being hit. Then

their request for illumination just made matters worse because some jerk

fired high explosive mortar rounds instead of illumination. Get the pic-

ture? All this was Sunday night, our own post Easter egg roll, or “Here’s

eggs in your bunker. Ha, ha, ha.”

Same same on orders—I don’t believe nothing from nobody. Seeing’s

believing.

ESP that’s “extra stupid possibility.”

. . .

Boy, my ribs and elbow are still so damn sore from being launched off

that NC-5 nine days ago that I can hardly sleep or cough. If I’m not flying

tomorrow, I think I’ll get my ribs X-rayed. I might have cracked one. Well,

what can you do, stop breathing?

Slight break for popcorn—mm—much better. . . .

Hope the kids liked their story. I didn’t have time to read it, but it

looked good.

Hey! Goodnight lover. I have a chance to get to bed by 2100 and sleep

until 0600 for a change. Better take it!

Yes, Darling, I miss you too—damn it—and there’s still a long way to

go.

See you later, Honey,

Ray

K . L

Chapter Seven

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250

Tuesday

4 April 1967

Hello Sweetie,

Like wow, I feel like I’ve been to Vietnam. I just finished watching a

two-hour CBS special called “Morley Safer’s Vietnam: A Personal Re-

port.”

It was only one hour, but they had it on twice, so I saw it two

times. He showed General William C. Westmoreland, Saigon, an R&R

place, war shots—air and ground, though mostly helicopter, a gun ship,

a tank, and helicopter stopped—even interviewed a soldier by the tank

and then said the tank was blown up seconds after the interview by one

short round by artillery (81 mm), which got a soldier by mistake and

himself pinned down, plus scenes in Saigon bars and an interview with

helicopter pilots.

It’s been a day of thinking about the war, Hawaii, etc. It started with a

phone call from Nonnie Haight (husband is Marine major correspondent

at Da Nang) asking me how was Hawaii. . . .

Well, anyway we talked for an hour while Kathy dumped out drawers

and turned over Kirk’s plants.

. . .

That’s the limit of my day. I did tell the kids about how maybe we’d

go to North Carolina or South Carolina, and they were all for it in typi-

cal good-natured fashion. Nonnie, however, said South Carolina is some-

times hazy—like swampy and mosquitoey—but at this moment anything

will be fine with you back. Anything.

I’m yawning, so I’ll close before I make you yawn. Ready for bed your-

self I’ll bet. So, let’s do it. I wonder if I’ll dream about Vietnam? More

better of you.

Goodnight Love,

Gig

K . L

“Morley Safer’s Vietnam: A Personal Report,” CBS News Special Report, aired on 4 April

1967.

April 1967

———

251

Wednesday

5 April 1967

Hello Angel,

Well! You did sort of short sheet me in today’s letter, but somehow you

came out smelling like a rose. I decided to read it to the kids and, of all

letters, it got right to them. You mentioned Cracker Jacks for one thing,

misspelled commercial for another—not tial-cial—which delighted your

whiz girls. . . . Then there was a discussion about the temperature here

versus there and the time of day here versus there. We decided our dinner

time was your breakfast time?

. . .

I’ve had a pretty dull day waiting for the Sears washing machine ser-

viceman to fix the drain on the darn thing. First it leaked, then wouldn’t

drain. . . . He tightened the pump in back and got a surprise. Man says, “I

found your gun under the washing machine, young man.” Kirk says, “No,

that’s my baby sister’s!”

. . .

Johnny Carson has quit the Tonight Show during AFTRA strike be-

cause they showed his reruns. Reruns still going on, but he’s in Miami.

Tune in tomorrow.

Life magazine had really interesting pictures of North Vietnam made

by a guy who had to get a visa from Cuba first then travel 1,609 kilome-

ters. Several color pics of prisoners of war (POWs) as well, I’ll try to mail

the article with this or in another envelope.

Going to bed, yup, yup. I think we’re over the year’s hump almost.

Maybe, yes? After this teeny tiny month.

. . .

The time difference from Austin, TX, to Vietnam would be, for example, 0600 Tuesday

in Austin would be 1800 in Vietnam.

AFTRA refers to the American Federation of Television and Radio Artists. For more on

the strike, see Lawrence W. Lichty and David J. Leroy, “Missing the Newscaster: Reactions

to the 1967 AFTRA Strike,” Journal of Broadcasting 16, no. 2 (1972): 175-84, https://doi

.org/10.1080/08838157209386341.

The article Gig refers to is about freelance photographer Lee Lockwood, who was the

first and only American journalist allowed into North Vietnam since 1954. See Lockwood,

“North Vietnam: Under Siege,” Life 62, no. 14, 7 April 1967. Ironically, the publication

date on this issue predates the letter.

Chapter Seven

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252

Kisses and hugs,

Gig

K . L

Thursday night

6 April 1967

Hi Honey,

Would you believe this afternoon that I turned on my radio for the news

and what did they have? Austin city news, believe it or not!

Really took me

back, just like I was right there—weirdo.

We properly dedicated our mess hall this morning—white picket fence,

trees, flowers—with 1st Marine Aircraft Wing band from Da Nang, cake,

and short speeches to boot. Guess I should have dedicated my hot shower!

Well, seriously, we have done extremely well in some areas and that is one

big important element of our daily living. We all eat the same food.

Did you have that serious talk with Kirk yet? Hope so. We sure want

him to try to do well, and that sure takes a lot of work from Kirk. I hate to

tie a second grader down so hard, but the purely fun days just for fun itself

are long gone. This is part of growing up and, in order to get going and

catch up with our high order of living, the children have to start sooner

than we did. Kirk will surely have some subjects in grade school that my

dad first saw in college and I saw in high school. So, better get hot buddy!

We want you to get ready for the world when you’re a man and ready to

work on your own.

The weather’s been sort of poor the last few nights, and I’ve been

using my fan as sort of a steady background noise, to keep the mosquitoes

off, and sleeping three to four hours at a time. It’s really nice for a change.

And the Grumman F-9 Cougars have been down since Tuesday, so no

flying, maybe next week.

The wing finally changed David Morrill and his radar intercept offi-

cer’s (RIO) status from missing in action (MIA) to killed in action (KIA)

Stice could have been referring to several of the early stations based in Austin, including

KNOW, KLBJ, KMFA, KOKE, and KUT.

For more on mess halls during the conflict, see Fox Butterfield, “For ‘Best Chow in Viet-

nam’ They Even Risk Enemy Fire,” New York Times, 29 February 1972.

April 1967

———

253

this morning.

They had two different teams out to the scene of the acci-

dent and there just wasn’t any indication of an ejection. We’ll close out

his books; his gear has already been sent. Damn shame.

You know I still haven’t seen our R&R flicks. I better borrow a projec-

tor and meter them tonight. Flicks—the last stupid flick we had here was

Fireball 500.

Remember one night when Kirk and I got mad at you and

drove off in a huff and ended up seeing 500 way up outside at Fairfax,

Virginia, somewhere? . . .

Time to say goodnight, Baby. I’m going to fire up the shower and take

a long hot soak under the stars (and the mosquitoes).

It’s kind of hard sometimes, with all the noise, but I have been able

to work up a few dreams of you in case you’re interested. Not all that bad!

Love you,

Ray

K . L

Thursday night

6 April 1967

Hello Honey,

I got your letter written on Sunday today. Not bad at all! Things sound hot

but not too bad there too. If you get the air conditioner, if you get those

earphones etc.! Shall I send you our old air conditioner out in the garage?

Be glad to if you pay for it! Also lift it and crate it. Hmm.

. . .

Glad to hear you’ve got traces of memories of Hawaii left. I’ve got

more than that, but somehow can’t bear to look at all the folders yet. I

really do want to order another muumuu for Milly, and I dream of porch

furniture, so maybe I’ll study them again.

The Marine Air Base Squadron 13 (MABS-13) command chronology (ComdC) for 1–31

March 1967 notes that Maj Morrill’s aircraft was downed over unfriendly territory and he

was declared MIA on 18 March; there was no mention of his RIO, but he is later identified

as 2dLt Maxim C. Parker. The MABS-13 ComdC for 1–30 April notes that Morrill’s status

was changed to KIA on 5 April. MABS-13, ComdC April 1967, Box __, Folder 077, U.S.

Marine Corps History Division Vietnam War Documents Collection, Vietnam Center

and Sam Johnson Vietnam Archive, Texas Tech University.

Fireball 500, directed by William Asher, starring Frankie Avalon, Annette Funicello, and

Fabian (Los Angeles, CA: American International Pictures, 1966).

Chapter Seven

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254

It seems we were lucky to get this house. A real estate lady told Mom

that people are desperate and offering to pay $400 for a house in a good

neighborhood like ours. It really has been pleasant, that’s for sure.

Darling, don’t try to write or answer all my letters. You know I write

to keep up your spirits when there really isn’t much news per se, but you

don’t have to do the same as much as I do. Remember I have tons more

time, and I’m not fighting a war. Just relax and enjoy the sweat of my brow!

. . .

Which do you want, an intelligent cowardly wife or a happy dumb

brave one?

Tell you what, you bring all my letters home and answer my questions

at home. That’s easy. All you have to do is climb in bed.

Hmm, nice thought.

Good night, Love,

Gig

K . L

Friday night

7 April 1967

Hi Sweet Pie,

. . .

But it was a pretty good day in all. The conference with Kirk’s teacher was

better than I’d hoped for. He was ready for third grade in all levels except

spelling and has shown much improvement since fall. He’s still a bit below

average, but not much, and she thinks the summer months will make a

lot of difference. Summer school costs $25 and lasts six weeks. I think I’ll

enroll him, though he’s antisummer school at the moment. They’ll put

him in third grade next fall and test him again before we move.

. . .

Tonight, we all went in the backyard and played march, which was fun

because no one knew their right from left and either bumped into each

other or went in opposite directions. They directed each other into fences

and rose bushes, and Kathy made loud noises so we were all shouting over

her. Just lovely! Had to tell the kids not to play scare with her anymore as

all of a sudden, she was scared of the dark. She got over that though. . . .

I felt around in the dark at the movies last night on my ring, and sure

enough one diamond was gone. I guess it came out while I washed dishes.

April 1967

———

255

It’s a wonder I haven’t had one fall out before this. It looks like we’ll have

to go diamond shopping when you get back. Now there’s a nice thought!

No letter from you today, but I put mine out and it fell in a puddle of

sprinkler water. I hope it was readable. I was trying to trap the mailman

by sprinkling in front of the mailbox, but somehow he sneaked in and left

a Sears ad but didn’t take my letter.

Speaking of Sears, which is on my blacklist too, I called again as the

washing machine was still not draining. I’m collecting dirty sheets while

all this Mickey Mouse goes on.

Each time they ask how old is it, I say four

to five years, which is approximate, right? I bet you have to open a charge

account with them before your sheets come. I wish you luck with them.

. . .

That’s about it, Love Dove. I hope things are a bit more smooth for

you these days. So glad we got our vacation in early and without a hitch.

Despite the sad homecoming for you, the week itself was beautiful and it

was ours to remember. I’m sure Dave would have wanted it that way. His

letter was proof of that.

Well now, I really think this is enough news for one letter. . . . I always

hate to say goodnight so. . .

Good night!

. . .

P.S. You can be mushy again. I’ll let you.

Gig

K . L

Sunday afternoon

9 April 1967

Hi Baby Doll,

Sunday already. I finally slept on my ribs awhile last night, so I guess

things getting better. Had to go down to sick bay today to stop an upset

stomach. I’m glad I did, but it’s hell to get any particular place and their

normal hours. Lots of work lately . . . Friday a full 12 hours and then a

really full 8 hours of night flair, dropping up beyond Dong Ha, 3 hours of

the usually after burner sleep, back on the job yesterday bright and early,

The Encyclopedia Britannica Dictionary defines Mikey Mouse in this usage as “not deserv-

ing to be taken seriously; having little value or importance.”

Chapter Seven

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256

and a 16-hour day yesterday. I finally went to sleep about 2330 last night.

Hence, no letter for you last night. That’s why I didn’t go to sick bay yes-

terday. It’s hard to tell whether I was sick or just tired. Ha! Turned out I

was right; it was both!

. . .

I wish the Sears catalog would get here. I want to order a flush

head and a sink. I think I can make a septic tank out of oil drums.

Hey, why don’t you order a catalog for me? If I get two, I’ll put one in

the office.

It’s nighttime now, and here are a couple of pictures Lou Gagnon

took. He’s shipping his gear out tomorrow and wanted to send off his

Polaroid. He caught me writing this letter and then taking a “shower,”

where our new shower will be out back. . . .

Right now, I think I’ll go to bed—still tired and the stomach too.

Goodnight, Sweetheart . . . heat? How about heart? That’s better.

I sure miss you, Darling, and you know I do love my wife.

Ray

Where are our R&R pictures, Honey?

K . L

Sunday

9 April 1967

Hi Darling Sweet,

My goodness! Two days of news to report, plus a letter from you to answer!

It’s 2130 on Sunday. Weekend over at last but a fairly good one. My week-

ends are like your “more illumination quick. I’m getting hit. Cease fire”

letter. A really big burst of activity, then all is quiet.

. . .

Darling, your picture was wonderful. No, I couldn’t see how tired

you were. It didn’t show in the picture. You looked just fine! I had a

good time putting the picture of me in this letter next to your picture.

Even Karen said we looked happy together. Must be remnants of Hawaii

showing through.

And the story you sent really made me laugh. Not the story but the fact

that you sent me a magazine story and I sent you one, obviously thought

April 1967

———

257

communion! I started to read it to them [the kids] last night—it looks like

a grand story—but it was 2100 and they all got eager to sit by me and ended

up in a fight, so all went to bed spanked. We’ll try again on another night!

Last night was confused anyway, as I promised a roller-skating rink outing,

but then got cold feet at the thought of a Saturday night at the rink. Might

be a rough crowd.

I had to give Robin a lecture on “I know it isn’t as good with Dad

gone, but you just have to understand that your mama gets cold feet!” or

words to that effect. She just can’t understand why weekends aren’t as ad-

venturous with me. . . . Whoosh, life without Father is a pain for Mother

and for Robin!

Enjoy your freedom, Dear Sire. We are going to use you when you get

home. What really got Robin to simmer down was telling her how won-

derful you were to me in Hawaii—how many things you did for me—and

she is convinced once again that life with Father is surely heaven after life

with Mother!

. . .

Thanks for answering and/or commenting on a bit from my letters.

At least, they haven’t been falling on deaf ears. Nor have yours, actually. I

live each experience with you, and they do make for some tall tales. I do

hope no one was hurt in all that rocket and artillery shell business. Talk

about trigger happy! No seriously, that must have been a scary comedy of

errors for the men in the bunker. Glad you or someone got it straightened

out.

Best I close now for your eyeball’s sake.

Darling, you make a really great husband and father. You know that,

don’t you?

. . .

I love you,

Gig

K . L

Monday night

10 April 1967

Well Darling,

It’s a bit late to start this, as I’ve been watching the stupid Academy Awards,

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258

which lasted much too late, so I’m a bad girl.

Then to top off my bad-

ness, it started to rain hard, which was my excuse for staying up to shut

windows, put clothes in the dryer, clean up the kitchen, and write you. All

at midnight? Yup. . . .

Your nice letter came today—written last Thursday, good going mail-

man—sort of full of talk for Kirk, and he happened to say, “Seems like

we haven’t had a letter from Daddy in a long time.” So, I very handily

whipped it out and read it to him at bedtime. Robin snuck in and listened

too. She had another bad day with me, poor dear. She’s so darn smart and

can’t take no for an answer and the last three days we’ve had a go around.

But I hope some of her kinks are ironed out or spanked out! Lord, she’s

so big now that I can’t really hurt her without getting hurt myself. So, I

even said, “What would Daddy do?” And she said, “Spank me hard.” But

actually, I’m beginning to hit on another way to get her to calm down. I

just make her sit still and she hates to do that! . . . I told them all they’d

have to get hobbies for summer and she’s been panting for marbles ever

since. But I said no to the store at 1800.

Speaking of summer, I really think they should go to a day camp to

learn to swim this summer. But it will cost about $300, I fear. Mom and

I are investigating. Mom is so eager, she wants to put up half the dough. I

said no that I’d write you first. So, Daddy-o, this is a nice little touch for

$300. Dear sweet home bankroll reads $1,904. Anyway, you think it over

and I’ll bill you later! School isn’t out until 31 May, and I’d probably send

them in midsummer.

Glad to hear you are practicing looking at my pictures with one eye

shut. That fanny shot may make you close the other eye too!

So very sorry again to get that news about Dave. I really grieved for

him one whole day, but that helped take the ache away. I accepted the

news today, but still find myself sorry I couldn’t have helped her [Morrill’s

wife] during this period.

Well, we mustn’t talk about it anymore. It’s not good for us.

Your mess hall was certainly initiated! I can’t get over the way the

Marine Corps christens everything. I really think you justify any reason to

have parties and speeches! Or maybe it’s to inspire the cooks!

The 39th Academy Awards was hosted by Bob Hope and took place on 10 April 1967

at the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium. For a full list of winners and award categories, see

“The 39th Academy Awards | 1967,” Oscars, accessed 18 April 2023.

April 1967

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259

. . .

I hope the flicks of us were good. I have the feeling we took too many

of mountains!

The rain sounds good to my water bill ears.

. . .

Gosh almighty. It is bedtime, like 0100. Good morning, Love.

Even better, good night, Sweetheart.

XXXs and such,

Gig

P.S. Elizabeth Taylor won best actress for Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?.

And A Man for All Seasons won all the other awards.

I haven’t seen that,

just Blow-Up with Don about a photographer who blows up a picture and

discovers a murder.

It had teenagers getting stripped to the nude to get

their pictures made. Charming!

K . L

Tuesday night

11 April 1967

Hi Honey,

And how is you? I’m better. I got cigarettes, money, beer, half a back porch,

near half an insulated back stoop, so no more runs (at this instant). Ribs

are getting a little better and I can bend my left elbow again, so life grinds,

pops, snaps, crashes, bangs, and booms on!

Yesterday, we had memorial services for David Morrill.

I wrote Pris

and caught up on my sleep so much that I woke up at 0200 and just sat

around having a lazy cigarette and eased off back to sleep after watching

the flares for half an hour.

Hey, how come you sent Mom certain snapshots and where’s MINE?

Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, directed by Mike Nichols, starring Elizabeth Taylor and

Richard Burton (Burbank, CA: Warner Brothers, 1966).

A Man for All Seasons, directed by Fred Zinnemann, starring Paul Scofield (Culver City,

CA: Columbia Pictures, 1966).

Blow-Up, directed by Michael Antonioni, starring David Hemmings and Vanessa Red-

grave (Beverly Hills, CA: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, 1966).

A 1993 investigation of the crash site discovered Maj Morrill’s wedding band. Human re-

mains were repatriated on 9 June 1993, but identification of Morrill and Parker’s remains

was not announced until 9 May 2001.

Chapter Seven

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260

Huh? I just might forgive you one more day’s delay, but watch your step!

Lou’s leaving in 13 hours and 26 minutes (didn’t even have to ask for

some reason).

Oh, got my fitted top sheets yet? Not so sure I can hack the Vietnam-

ese laundry. I sent 16 shirts and only got 12 back.

. . .

They had a floor show the other day, where I just happened to catch

the last couple minutes of a torrid exotic dancer. No one whispered or

moved. They were cross-eyed, tongue- tied, knock-kneed, and flabbergast-

ed. I was merely paralyzed, just having been exposed to R&R at the right

time, so I applauded for them. They (those who could recover their voices)

said she should’ve been on the Johnny Carson show, ha! Not like that! I

hope she doesn’t come back. I’m not sure the thatched roof could stand

the heat!

Speaking of heat, time out for popcorn! . . . Damn, lots of flying go-

ing on tonight, like at breakfast the group executive officer saw me in my

flight suit and very sarcastically said, “Expecting the F-9s to be up today,

Ray?” I said, “Colonel, I’m going to fly something today, even if it’s a god

damn desk!” . . . Finally, umm delicious. Bad butter, but what the hell, not

that bad! Not really all that bad.

Good night, Darling,

I love you!

Ray

K . L

Tuesday night

11 April 1967

Dear Heart,

There was a news flash on TV at 2200 tonight about the mortar attack.

They said 30–40 rounds fell and 37 were wounded, 1 killed at Chu Lai.

It sure scared me for a minute, but I’m all right now. It’s going to be hard

to wait for your letter telling me you’re okay and, on top of that, you’ll

probably be too busy to write. Now is when I’ll really have to be patient.

I heard the Austin broadcast of a tape of hillbilly music today that

they are making daily. Must be the same one you heard.

MABS-13, ComdC March 1967.

April 1967

———

261

I had all sorts of things to tell you tonight, but that TV news sort

of makes it seem trivial. It came on seconds after I got the news channel

tuned in, and I felt like somebody hit me in between the ribs. Just shud-

dered all over. I know news like that is going to come on from time to

time. In fact, I’ve been wondering if that mass of Viet Cong that hit Da

Nang were the same gang going on down the coast. Anyway, you all sure

give them hell for me!

I just tuned in to the radio and the news was on all the stations. Not

300 rounds, 30–40. And that’s a lot better than what I heard the first

time. But 37 wounded is an awful lot though, and yet out of 800, I guess

that’s not as bad as I thought either. It sounds like everyone was dug in.

Well, there’s no use speculating. I just hope you get the SOBs [son’s

of bitches]!

We’re all fine here. I got the Hawaii pictures, and they are marvelous

of you. Terrible of me, except one that isn’t all that bad. We’ll send them

soon.

Oh dear, it is hard to write you in the dark this way. I can’t think

about much else and know you can’t either. I know you’ll get word to me

as soon as possible. I sure hate to think of you anywhere near that sort of

business. Oh, you know what I mean.

Best I just go to bed and wear my “be brave” hat! I carry the little radio

you gave Kirk with me all around the house. Just one of those little things

that you did that still comfort me.

Goodnight Dearest,

Gig

K . L

Wednesday

12 April 1967

Dear Heart,

All I can think of is you. It’s been a rough day, as the news of the attack

was still on the air this morning and in the paper tonight, though it said

45 were wounded in the paper and 1 killed. Also, some planes damaged.

Whatever happened, we have all been upset of course, though I know

“Mortar Barrage Strikes U.S. Airstrip at Chulai; American Is Reported Killed and 37

Are Injured,” New York Times, 12 April 1967.

Chapter Seven

———

262

you would be the first to tell me not to panic. Strange the way hearing

news on the air that way frightens me more than when it comes from you.

You’ve always been so gentle with me. Also, I know you would not want

me to worry, so I am not. I just got a lot of work done today while I was

“not worrying!”

. . .

The kids know about the mortar attack and were very brave about it.

Real Marine troopers!

I was tempted to call Milly but decided not to. I’ll let her know when

I hear from you about it all. God bless, I just pray you were in a damn

good bunker. I feel pretty sentimental about the whole base though, just

because you and the other good men work there, especially you! I remem-

ber how you said once, “Don’t worry about keeping the troops happy, just

keep me happy.” Lord knows I’d like to do my job now. Looks like the

attack made a Christian out of me! (Or a Marine)

Goodnight, Darling. Let me know when the all clear has sounded. In

the meantime, I’ll be waiting. Don’t get discouraged. As you say, that’s the

name of the game.

XXXs, loves, hugs, and things,

Gig

K . L

Thursday

13 April 1967

Hi Honey,

When I finished eating the popcorn, I went to bed and drifted off to

sleep. Lou was pulling on one of my legs, and I could hear the crump,

crump, crump of the mortars. Only from the south this time. They were

hitting all around the south end of the runway back and forth and up

and down. That’s where MAG-12 has their first new squadron set up and

a big U.S. Army air lift that we are supporting.

They dropped in there

for about 45 minutes. Hit an aircraft and part of a fuel farm but no fires,

only a whole slew of trucks with flat tires and spouting radiators. The

next morning (yesterday) General Louis B. Robertshaw (wing command-

According to the command chronology, MABS-13 was supporting the U.S. Army’s in-

volvement in Operation Oregon. MABS-13, ComdC April 1967, 3.

April 1967

———

263

er) flew down from Da Nang, and we rounded up our 3 wounded (the

Army had 63) and he pinned Purple Hearts on them immediately.

one was more surprised than they were. It was a long night, no one got

more than four hours of sleep at most. Then yesterday afternoon Marine

Fighter Attack Squadron 314 (VMFA-314) had a beach party and with the

“CO, XO, and SgtMaj being invited,” we went over for “just a beer.” Their

greeting was spontaneous—bodily run down the beach and sling out into

the South China Sea with clothes, cigarettes, and all! . . .

This morning, I started checking out in the old Gooney Bird—Doug-

las C-117—Hummer, we call it, and flew to Da Nang a couple of times.

Still not sure that’s what I want to do. The F-9s are still grounded and

the McDonnell Douglas F-4 Phantom IIs seem fairly useless for me. The

only thing I don’t like about the Hummer is the long trips you have to

take when I still have basically an administrative job that won’t quit. Well,

I don’t know. I’ll try it for a while and see how it works. It beats flying

nothing.

How about an intelligent, happy, brave wife? Whatever you’re being,

that’s good enough for me! So, you have the kids playing march, huh?

That’s a good Marine. Close order drill is best discipline the troops can

ever get!

What, not that type of marching? What a bunch of yellow-

livered pansies! Kirk’s on my side, I bet!

. . .

Good night, Baby.

Loves you!

Ray

K . L

MABS-13, ComdC April 1967, 2.

A C-117 or Gooney Bird (also designated an R4D8) refers to the naval version of the

Douglas DC-3 (civilian aircraft) or C-47 Skytrain (military) cargo aircraft.

The MCO describes close order drill as: “The object of close order drill is to teach Ma-

rines by exercise to obey orders and to do so immediately in the correct way. Close order

drill is one foundation of discipline and esprit de corps. Additionally, it is still one of the

finest methods for developing confidence and troop leading abilities in our subordinate

leaders.” Marine Corps Order P5060.20 with change 1, Marine Corps Drill and Ceremonies

Manual (Washington, DC: Headquarters Marine Corps, 5 May 2003), v.

Chapter Seven

———

264

Thursday

13 April 1967

Hi Darling,

I’m feeling a bit more cheerful but like, wow, this has been a long week

with no mail since Monday’s letter from you.

. . .

Kids are fine. I’m reading them your “story” in installments.

I got a nice letter from Myrtle today. She really appreciated both our

letters, especially yours. I’ll mail it on to you later. Somehow, I have the

feeling you have enough on your hands right now, clearing up from that

episode this week.

I’m going to the movies with Liz tomorrow night. Anything that will

make this long week go by is fine with me. A letter from you will be the

only thing to set me on course again.

Until then, my dearest one, my thoughts are with you.

Sweet kisses,

Gig

K . L

Friday night

14 April 1967

Darling Sweet,

Your letter was so good for my morale today with the pictures and com-

ments on all sorts of small problems I’ve been having. I really could see

the tiredness in your face, and it’s no wonder with all that really incred-

ible period of about three-hours sleep in three days (and sick). Sounded

like a new record for you—a notorious camel, but not a very healthy one,

so I do hope you got some rest. Reading that letter written Sunday af-

ternoon, I really wondered what shape you were in when that mortar

attack came. Enough energy to run to a darn bunker, I hope! Gadzooks,

I’ll be glad when that Monday letter comes telling me about all that.

The term gadzooks was a mild oath or exclamation first used ca. 1652 as a contraction of

God’s hooks, or a reference to the Crucifixion. “Gadzooks,” Merriam-Webster, accessed

18 April 2023.

April 1967

———

265

It really shook me up. Sounded like the whole base got attacked. Well,

whatever, I’m sure you were more calm than I was hearing about it.

Roger on the Sears catalog. It’s all wrapped and ready to mail. I al-

most got it mailed today but ran out of cash and the post office closed.

Regarding the R&R pictures. They cost $4 at the base ($6 in town), so

at that price I didn’t want to ship them right off to you and have the sand

mess them up. So, at the moment, I’m enjoying them and I was generous

to give you one! After all, you’ve got the movies, remember? I’m going

to get copies made though, but in the meantime, stingy old me, they’re

mine! Even if you did buy the film! By the way, I take good pictures of you.

But, gosh, you sure make mincemeat of my nose!

No, the truth is, they aren’t all bad and I’ll send them to you soon.

One a day? I just was a bit disappointed in my looks and don’t want you to

be. Not that you’d ever say so. Just female vanity, I guess. I felt so beautiful

over there because you made me feel that way.

. . .

Miss you, but more than I know how much I am not so brave where

you’re concerned. So PLEASE take good care.

Goodnight, Dear Heart,

Gig

K . L

Saturday night

15 April 1967

Hi Baby,

Yeah . . . no banging, no shooting, no mortars, no flying, no nothing—

Dullsville. Remember Major Thomas K. “T. K.” Burke in our wedding?

The big, tall one? He’s the commanding officer of a radar squadron here

and I just saw him tonight. He’s been here since October too. I just never

saw him for some reason. He was at our club. We had a big group wetting

down party for all the majors who never had one plus VMFA-314’s skip-

per made lieutenant colonel.

You should have seen the cake—big seal of

Wetting down refers to a wild party for newly promoted officers, where the crowd liberal-

ly sprays the individuals to celebrate their new rank. See Marine Corps Lore, Marine Corps

Historical Reference Series no. 22 (Washington, DC: Historical Branch, G-3 Division,

Headquarters Marine Corps, 1960), 5.

Chapter Seven

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266

VMFA-314 and in small letters on top MABS-13. I really laughed. When

the general was down celebrating our 25th birthday a couple of months

ago, the cake said, “Happy Birthday MABS-13” when it should have said

“MAG-13.” Always thought that was just a mistake until tonight, but now

I know better. Our baker has a lot of guts!

. . .

What happened to the R&R pictures? I never did see them. Surely,

they’re done by this time! If they are, I want a copy. My movies of R&R

are so spotty that they are terrible. The camera was acting up and there

just isn’t much to see.

I was going to pop some more popcorn, but I just remembered what a

hectic night that last time it turned out to be, so I’ll wait a couple of days

if you don’t mind.

. . .

We had the first half of our MABS party today—have to do it in halfs—

or there wouldn’t be any air station if we all quit at the same time. This

is our third party, and it’s the first time they threw me in the ocean. They

must have been talking to some of the hoods from VMFA-314. They did

remove my pistol, but that’s all. After I took a shower and was back to

work—the colonel was out on a medical hop at the little town south of

here—I got this note from the group executive officer. He had already left

for the party and I’m sure glad they didn’t throw him in! He’s the type

that practical jokes are great as long as he’s doing them—no one else! Not

sure how much more salt water my boots and watch can hack. The money

and ID cards are doing great.

Got your real cute snapshots of the kids today. I’m downright insult-

ed to think I didn’t know Kathy’s leg in that one! Who in the hell else’s

leg would it have been? You think I don’t know my own daughter’s leg?

Well, thanks a lot! I also know whose fannies those were and whose head

of hair was all frizzled up. You think I don’t know you all? You can’t hide

from me! And I sure know who was not there too. Where was he?

. . . We spent the morning rounding up an interpreter. I went to the

major of An Tan, but he was busy, so he sent the chief of police (on his

bicycle) and then to see a “restruant” owner. One of our troops had been

UA [unauthorized absence], drunk, no liberty, and running from the MP

[military police]. He ran in this guy’s house, urinated in this front room,

and then hit him [the owner] in the mouth when he didn’t like it. All was

April 1967

———

267

very bow tie and double handshakes and graciously forgiven. Six months

in jail ought to slow this creep down. Nice thought for a goodnight caress

and a kiss or two.

An Tan is a small village near Chu Lai. MABS-13, ComdC April 1967, 2.

Figure 32. Maj Ray Stice pretends to shower in their new makeshift bath-

ing facility at Chu Lai

Source: Stice family collection.

Chapter Seven

———

268

Goodnight, Honey,

Ray

K . L

Sunday

16 April 1967

Hello Darling Sweet,

Whoosh and splash. The end of another long weekend. Lots of swim-

ming.

. . .

Saturday afternoon, we mailed your Sears catalog off to you via air

mail. It cost $4, so I hope you get my money’s worth! Then the tempera-

ture was 89 degrees, so we drove to Barton Springs (the kids and I) and

had a fine time.

Beautiful hot weather for cold swimming. Kathy said,

“Wow! Wow! Wow!”

. . .

Frank [Shalleen, family friend] got the message that I didn’t really

trust him [Kirk] swimming out there alone, so he brought him on in.

That went into the lecture too. Also, I read him your letter about bops on

the head and I think we may get through to him. But his male wings are

sprouting fast, and Momma better learn to fly. When I was all through

with the lecture, he just said, “I think I’d better go to sleep now, Mom.”

His little eyes had been big for an hour of lecture. He tries hard, but

there’s a lot to learn. One of us is getting gray hairs.

I’m glad for this year alone with him in some ways though, as I feel if

he can get beyond the point of showing off for me and just learn to trust

me as a second-best friend (you being first), I will have scored. Seven-year-

old’s love to rebel from Mother though, so it’s kind of like holding back a

wild horse. That is, he knows I’m a woman (female) now and sometimes

not to be trusted—in fact in need of protection at times—but that I can be

something else now too.

. . . This being Mom and Pop gets me confused sometimes too! Well,

hell, he knows I’m not Pop and wants no substitutes, but as I tell him, “Sorry

Barton Springs is a set of four natural water springs located on the grounds of Zilker

Park in Austin, TX, resulting from water flowing through the Edwards Aquifer. The largest

spring supplies water to Barton Springs Pool, a popular recreational destination.

April 1967

———

269

about that, Kirk. You’re stuck with a substitute, but it’s only until Dad

comes back.” That seems to satisfy him.

We will both heave a sigh of relief when you’re back!

Frank said to tell you hello. I showed pictures of you in front of the

hut, and he said he knew that hut. It has a road by it and is on top of a

hill with a view of the ocean on one side. Also, he said he still gets the

runs about once a month since he’s been back. Cheerful though. He still

gets a faraway look in his eyes when he talks about Vietnam. I do believe

he misses the Marine Corps a bit, or maybe it’s just that he has shared

that experience and thinks a lot of you. Once a Marine, always a Marine, I

guess.

Anyway, it’s always nice to see him, as he is polite, courteous, and

thoughtful with me. He offered to drive the six kids and three women out,

but I led him a merry chase. No flies on me. Our white 1964 bird held a

good candle to his 1966 station wagon.

That’s it for Sunday night.

I love you, Angel. And yes that is a lover, an expensive lover. He cost

me $4 only yesterday! But I’ll get a $6.50 dinner out of him in return.

Wanna bet?

XXXs,

Gig

K . L

Monday

17 April 1967

Hi Sweetheart,

Hey, that snapshot at the Ilikai is beautiful! Are you sending me one at a

time so I’ll drool longer? That’s not a bad idea.

The papers were pretty close on the last mortar attack—104 rounds, 2

down, and 61 wounded, though 99 percent were Army troops. They hap-

pened to catch them in the right spot at the right time. If the Viet Cong

had known, they could have gotten a couple hundred. It was that close for

them (Army). We were all deep in our bunkers. And those of them where

This statement is credited to Marine Corps master sergeant Paul Woyshner, who shout-

ed during a barroom argument, “Once a Marine, always a Marine!” “Russian-Born Marine

Ends 40-Year Service,” New York Times, 1 February 1956, 6.

Chapter Seven

———

270

the rounds were hitting that could get into the bunkers were only very

slightly wounded, like our three, and even ours were running between

bunkers or they wouldn’t have been hit at all.

Most bunkers are filthy, dirty, rat-tracked holes—sand bagged, of

course—but when the rounds start popping, those particular things are

the furthest from your mind. Sort of nice to have.

The next morning, we were working on our own pressing problem

of the day—running out of water. Our well is going dry, and our usage

exceeded our pumping by 30,000 gallons one day. We had to cut everyone

off except sick bay and the mess hall. Just happened by chance to be the

MABS-13, ComdC April 1967.

Figure 33. Maj Ray Stice with the Marines at a “wetting down,” Chu Lai

Source: Stice family collection.

April 1967

———

271

day of the attack. So, when the colonel called a Marine bulk fuel compa-

ny the next morning and wanted to borrow five huge 10,000-gallon fuel

tanks (rubber) for our water system, the guy almost fell all over himself

breaking them out! So, in a couple of days, we’ll have more than double

our previous storage capacity and a brand new well—Seabees helped us

finally—to boot. They [Viet Cong] must have thought our water point got

hit; a fuel point had been hit but the damn thing didn’t burn! All in all, a

very successful attack as far as they were concerned. They were audacious,

and we were lucky. Yesterday, we found some prepared positions they had

laboriously set up and wiped them out—much easier—no casualties.

Honey, you are going to wear your damn pen out. SLOW DOWN!

You’ve been writing every damn day since Honolulu. I’m okay. I love it,

but relax and write as you like. . . . And send me the rest of the pictures

one at a time. That’s the best way so I can drool forever. I left the one you

sent in the hotel room and showed it to everyone who came in my office.

I’m proud of you, Darling, no holds barred.

. . .

Well, you’re still “Miss Lover of Last Month” as far as I’m concerned,

and that’s pretty damn high in my books.

Love you, Baby,

Ray

K . L

Monday night

17 April 1967

Dear Sweet Pie,

So good to get your two letters today telling the before and after of that

mortar attack. It was certainly weird to hear about it last Tuesday and not

know until today how it really went for you. And the way you described

it. . . . Not exactly like the terse TV news commentator! That was more

boom, boom, bang, bang.

Well, I am mighty relieved, though Friday’s letter took off the tension.

It was a long wait from Monday to Friday with that news on Tuesday. Still,

it was interesting to read your casual observations. I sure chewed a lot of

unnecessary nails.

We had a little excitement here today. Nothing big, only dynamite.

Chapter Seven

———

272

After school today, I was talking on the phone to Mrs. Robertson. . . . And

she was telling me about the ranch birthday party with swimming and rid-

ing for Kirk and the boys this Wednesday. I said it sounded great, but to

watch out for Kirk because “you know how seven-year-olds are, grownup

one minute and immature the next.” She said, “Yes, I know Randy just

walked in the house and said, ‘Here’s a stick of dynamite, Mother’.” I

laughed and we hung up.

The phone rings seconds later. “Mrs. Stice, this is the principal of Ca-

sis [Elementary School]. Some boys just came in and said Kirk and some

boys found a stick of dynamite and there has been some construction

going on. Do you know about this?” “Yes, I just talked to Mrs. Robertson

[about it] . . . I think you’d better call her. She has Randy, Kirk, and the

dynamite.” . . . Me and you deserve a medal. Don’t faint if you find out it

really was dynamite. Kirk came home at last . . . said he didn’t pick it up,

Randy did and threw it.

All’s well that ends well. End of story.

So, what else is new? . . . Life has its amusing moments.

. . .

I was amazed to hear about the belly dancer, but your description was

tremendous. I got the picture. So glad you were synthesized by the R&R

to the point of being semiobjective! Uncle Sam often teases me about

whether you’ve mentioned any women over there and I always said no

tactfully. . . .

The pictures I sent Milly were old Christmas ones you already have,

plus the desk one of you and an outdoor group picture you gave me in

Hawaii. Don’t get jealous eyes.

. . .

It’s midnight. Far too much talking.

Time to take my dynamite and blast off to bed.

Va va va voom!

Goodnight, Love,

Gig

P.S. Dave’s memorial service program told me a lot. That was a hard one

to accept. Thank you, Dear.

K . L

April 1967

———

273

Tuesday night

18 April 1967

Hi Sweetheart,

Kind of wish you could see me tonight. I look halfway decent! I got my

haircut and set today while Mom babysat, and I’m wearing one of the

muumuus—the one that looks like spring flowers. Mom took pictures

of me in it, so you’ll see. Both hair and dress make me feel good at any

rate.

We had a busy afternoon getting a toy for the party Kirk’s invited to

tomorrow. . . . Everyone had a fine time at the toy store except me. Five

kids in a toy store is hair raising!

. . .

Tomorrow, I go to Bergstrom for food and the waiting wives coffee

and then I have school conferences on Thursday and Friday (Karen and

Robin’s). It’s a full week for me! I’m always peppy at the thought of doing

something besides housework, though I get a great deal of satisfaction out

of staying ahead of the family’s needs. But someday, I’d like to turn that

over to a maid and get a job. It would probably be very good for me. I’d

have to reeducate the family though, including you!

I wonder what you’re doing now. I think building the porch on your

hooch has been good therapy for you. Hawaii was such good therapy for

me! Snatches of it keep popping in my mind at the strangest time. Like

the glow of our first evening together. Such marvelous fun all of it. I keep

thinking, “It will always be that much fun with Ray.” Life just has lots

more meaning with you around, even the dull routine parts like wrapping

birthday presents, which I really must do now for Kirk. Ugh. He picked

out a Batman card that says, “The Dynamic Duo do it again.” I told him

that sounded like dynamite, so he was sold on it!

Sweet Pie, I miss you. Hawaii pictures more scratchy. Don’t rush

me!

XXXs and much such,

Gig

K . L

Chapter Seven

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274

Wednesday

19 April 1967

Hi Dearest,

It’s a weary wife you’ve got tonight. Too much socializing, of all things.

But more on that in a minute.

I got your “Shall I pop popcorn?” letter today, and it really made a

very amusing end to the saga of the Tuesday mortar attack. I read those

three or four letters to Mom and Don tonight, and they certainly under-

stand how the last time you popped corn, all hell popped loose! So, who

needs popcorn?

I got my biggest bang out of your fatherly insult about not recognizing

your own daughter’s legs. I must say you sure pegged that frizzed hair and

broad beamed one right. Shamefully completely and totally me. Why do

I even try to fool you? You always were they type of guy . . . to make a girl

at her worst feel her best. That’s quite an art you have!

I saw a chaplain blush today. Yup. At the Vietnam wives coffee. He

just got back from 17 months on an atoll in the Pacific and is waiting for

his wife to come down from Virginia. One of the wives wanted to share a

house and the Red Cross man suggested the chaplain. He really blushed

when 30 wives laughed. And shook his fist! Can you blame him?

. . .

Tonight, there was a thing on TV about Operation Lejeune in Quang

Ngai going on now. That’s where you are, isn’t it? Reconnaissance—that’s

what you meant when you said 63 Army wounded, perhaps staging for

that? How’s my radar working?

. . .

Now that you’ve got your hooch almost fixed up, all you need is a

hoochie coochie girl. I’d come, but I’m booked until November at this

hooch.

Why do we always (moan) move (moan) in November? I have a real

thing about November-December moves and/or babies. . . .

I can see you now like a tornado whirling across the world from Viet-

Operation Lejeune was conducted by 2d Brigade, 1st Cavalry Division, in Quang Ngai

Province. See Charles S. Sykes Jr., Operation Lejeune: 6–22 April 1967, Unit Historical

Report No. 10 (Republic of Vietnam: 1st Air Cavalry Division, Office of Information and

History, 1967).

April 1967

———

275

nam to North Carolina or South Carolina, picking us up en route and

plopping us down and off you go. Sort of like the Wizard of Oz. Just call

me Dorothy.

There’s a place here where I can make tapes free. Could you play

them there? I’m not too surprised about the R&R movies. It was lucky we

took a few good snaps at any rate.

I still owe you candy (chocolate type again) but I just never go down-

town. Maybe soon. But really, the dental fodder bid holds for you too,

Master Masticator! Eschew that word if you can!

Goodnight, Pet. You are a LOVER.

Gig

K . L

20 April 1967

Hi Honey,

I sure hope I’ve written you since 13 April! My stupid calendar didn’t

show a thing for damn near a week. It’s hard to believe I missed that

much, although anything’s possible out here. This has been one of the

damndest weeks I’ve ever seen—weapons stolen, people knifing each oth-

er, making stupid erroneous reports, and tremendous backfiring. . . . Lieu-

tenant Colonel Gordon H. Keller (skipper of VMFA-323) punched out

yesterday with his RIO [Captain Hugh L. Julian]. We finally get both back

from the dark dank seas one at a lengthy exasperated time. One bruised

and happy colonel back down here this morning, but his RIO is still at

Da Nang. Don’t believe it was enemy caused, just aircraft. You know how

these things go—he did not make it. Kind of hard on commanding officers

these days.

The Wizard of Oz, starring Judy Garland as Dorothy, was released in 1939 as one of the

first full-length films shot in Technicolor. The film was based on L. Frank Baum, The Won-

derful Wizard of Oz (New York: George M. Hill, 1900).

The command chronology for VMFA-323 reports LtCol Keller’s air activities for 6 April,

but there is no direct mention of an accident other than a vague reference to battle damage

on an aircraft. VMFA-323, ComdC March–April 1967, 1201098108, Box __, Folder 098,

U.S. Marine Corps History Division Vietnam War Documents Collection, Vietnam Cen-

ter and Sam Johnson Vietnam Archive, Texas Tech University, 4. The squadron history,

however, offers more detail on the incident. Col Gerald R. Pitzl, A History of Marine Fighter

Attack Squadron 323 (Washington, DC: History and Museums Division, Headquarters

Marine Corps, 1987), 32.

Chapter Seven

———

276

I’ve been chewed out so many times lately. I’m getting callouses—I’m

shaken but unfettered. I’ll probably need a couple dozen hops to get

straightened out. The F-9s should be up shortly.

. . .

Goodnight!

P.S. Well, damn near 2230 and I must go to bed. Yep, you done been

short-sheeted in the flesh.

Awfully quiet tonight for a change. I guess the Army has finally settled

down. Lord, they were restless this last week.

Goodnight, Darling. . .

Love,

Ray

K . L

Thursday

21 April 1967

Hello Love Dove,

I’m so tired that I’m goofy tonight. I’ve already fallen asleep on the couch

once and can’t even remember what the heck I did that made me so tired.

I think it was the nervous strain of seeing Karen’s teacher. Lord, my heart

even palpitated. Somehow, they always drag your family out in front of

you, forgetting that mothers prefer to think their families are perfect.

. . .

And then I look at the teacher and wonder about her background. It’s

obvious the kids are intelligent—they all say so—well adjusted for the most

part, but somehow underachievers with their peer groups (i.e., behind).

They all would be A students one grade back. The fault lies in the moving?

Schools? Worries of Mother? The teacher points her finger vaguely at all

of them and then pats me on the back and acts like maybe it’s their fault.

All because Karen never took map reading and can’t solve math written

problems. I never could either. Yes, she’s going to promote Karen; yes,

Kirk; yes, Robin. But I sure come away feeling they do it reluctantly and

with hopes of their improving and growing as all are shortest in their class.

Right about this time, I find myself needing papasan. You always

could snow teachers. I’ve learned to stand up to them, but they always give

me a thousand doubts. Fortunately, I have a quick time forgetting it all. It

April 1967

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277

would be nice to hear what you think of the kids. Let’s face it, schools are

. . . wives are sleepy, that’s what!

I’m going to bed. In my opinion, they are all working like demons,

changing daily, and devoted, loving, darling children.

I bought you a Playboy today and the it girl is truly marvelously en-

dowed.

There’s hope for the female race. If it (she) rests your eyeballs, I

(sob) will mail her PDQ [pretty damn quick], but just don’t forget that a

bird in the hand is worth two in the magazine. And tonight, this one is

too tired to even put up a mock battle against her overwhelmingly fresher

opponent. She wins, bosoms down.

Goodnight, Love,

Gig

K . L

Friday night

21 April 1967

Hi Darling,

Thanks for the Sears catalog. That was expensive! Sears does it free—ho,

ho, ho.

Sounds like your Barton’s splash in the heat was cold as ever. Damn

water is always cold. Kirk really keeps you hopping for sure. Just keep

bopping.

My hut is not on a hill and I damn sure can’t see the ocean. He’s

[Frank’s] thinking of the MAG-12 side. He really would hardly recognize

the place now, even just in the past two months there have been amazingly

sweeping changes. This place wasn’t even built when he was here, I don’t

think. . . . We’re having a cookout at the club and I’m invited to a bosses

night at the staff club. Whew, that’s a lot of potential boozing!

Now, look a here young lady, I understand your consternation about

these attacks. But I’m sure if I got hit, you’d know it before I did, certainly

before I could scramble a letter out. Yes, it is frustrating not really know-

ing what for a letter to finally arrive, but that’s the distance purely. Can’t

change it much either. I will move my rack to the east end of the hut if

you’d like me to be a little closer, Honey. Okay, I’ll do just that!

Playmate of the month for April 1967 was Gwen Wong, a Filipino American model and

actress. She later appeared in a single film, The Witchmaker (1969).

Chapter Seven

———

278

Later now, much later, one of the old original MABS ideas was to

send some choppers out to the hospital ship USS Repose (AH 16) and

snake their nurses . . . out by chopper to our club. Well, tonight the group

staff outdid us. The Repose went back to Okinawa and was replaced by the

USS Sanctuary (AH 17). Well, they beat us to the punch, and sure enough

here they came bobtailed and ready to dance. They only stayed a couple

of hours, but it was kind of nice to see them.

Oh, remember Major Henry D. “Hank” Fagerskog? He just came

down from Da Nang to join VMFA-323. Someone else’s joy is another

sorrow (me!). Major Joseph B. “Joe” Wuertz–Finkerskoy–Maeksey–Major

Charles W. “Charley” Brown (old VMFA-312). Bastards all.

Well, screw it. Tomorrow, I start pushing all my scrounge sources for a

flush commode and water pipe. We have three wash basins, a lot of ideas,

and damn little to back it up. Hot tonight and I need a shower, Baby. . . .

Seems like you have to have a lot of talks with Kirk. Ever let him have

one with you? If he doesn’t want to, I’ll volunteer right now!

. . .

So ends another day at Chu Lai, vacation spot in the South China

Sea. . . .

Goodnight, Honey. I love you and to hell with the bugs!

Love,

Ray

K . L

22 April 1967

Darling,

. . .

You caught me in my act of overwriting, and I must admit some of it is

this pen, which I dearly love, though it is wearing out just as you suspected

it might. My you are preceptive!

So, okay, I’ll try to simmer down, but it’s Sunday night and I haven’t

written in two days. . . .

You needn’t worry though. I’m not worried about you now. That Chu

Lai news bit did get me into a tight spin though, and it took a week to

come out. I’m out again though, breathing free and easy. Your letters did

the trick. Even so far away, you calm me down and it’s very, very nice to

have a man calm me down.

April 1967

———

279

. . .

Gotta close now. My husband says I write too much. Ah, he is a brave

man to fling those words into her face before she mails the Playboy.

Don’t you pick on her. She’s a good, brave, stupid, dumb, ugly, beau-

tiful, ignorant, intelligent [wife]. . . . She’s a good speller too. But some-

times she gets the curse, and her stupid husband can never figure out

when and she fools him all the time. Only sometimes, he fools her too,

especially getting out of elevators.

Hey, come see me sometime. The red flag is down.

Goodnight, Love,

Gig

K . L

Friday at midnight

22 April 1967

Darling,

This has certainly been a week for writing you late letters. You are becom-

ing the new Late, Late Show. I just got in from a big night on the town.

Went to a Mexican restaurant with Mary Jane, Liz A., and Don, then on

to the Civic Theater with Don and Mary Jane. I actually had a frosty beer

too. My second, as I had three sips of one alone last night. Getting down

to the dregs of the beer you left.

. . .

No letter from you today. That’s okay, but I always miss them when I

don’t get one. I’ve tried to write every day since Hawaii. I hate to lose the

wonderful feeling of togetherness we had there and maybe this helps a bit.

Do you think so? If so wink, blink, and nod.

Kids all fine. They didn’t miss me a bit tonight as the babysitter was

Molly.

. . .

Well, Dearest, I’ll hold this letter open until the mailman comes to-

morrow. But on second thought, if I do, I’d ruin my record of a letter a

day. Tonight, I heard no news, which is probably okay since I need a night

off once in a while from being a girl camp follower.

I miss you, Love. All the time. Such a life. I tell everyone that I don’t

think I could go through another year like this!

. . .

Chapter Seven

———

280

XXXs and loves,

Gig

K . L

Sunday night

23 April 1967

Hi Honey,

How is yours? Better? Mine’s not so good tonight, but that’s not bad. You

should see how big the moon is tonight—huge! And no one to share it

with except the lizards. We don’t have crickets and frogs here. . . .

Yesterday, I had an abortive hop in the F-9. First time in six weeks,

and I had the early early but not told the night before and readily awak-

ened at 0430 to no breakfast. Chopper pilot in the back seat had never

been in the aircraft before. I was supposed to go up north and spot ar-

tillery. No plane captains to preflight the aircraft. I left my pistol in the

head too. CANK to a weather reconnaissance. I take off with a bum radio,

transfer the wing fuel, get over Da Nang, change back to arty spot [artillery

spotter or forward observer], reserved fuel used already, so wondering if

the tanker will be up soon. Go up north to Dong Ha and the weather’s

lousy, the tanker’s late, poor radio communication with the tanker, and

I haven’t in-flight refueled since the Fighter Trainer 2 (FT-2) in 1956 (2

times). Refuel or land, um, worse than you thought [when you] can’t get

your damned probe in the drogue.

No finesse? Damned turbulence, no

wonder the Air Force doesn’t try this type . . . let’s see, 148 kilometers to

Chu Lai and only 1,800 pounds of fuel to go (low light comes in at 1,200).

. . . Oh to hell with it! You can’t win them all and I don’t want a damned

incident out of this. Screw it! I head for home, climb to 30,000 feet, and

idle a bit down to Chu Lai. Some bastard’s voice ones up on air, “That’ll

cost you one beer, Ray.” Who in hell is that? Colonel Owens? Lord knows.

Ugh, what a mess. . . .

By God, I was ready today. I planned and briefed for two hours this

afternoon. What happens? Damned aircraft is down—CANK. Not even a

test hop after three tries.

The probe-and-drogue refueling method relies on a flexible hose that trails from the

tanker aircraft and the drogue, sometimes called a basket. For more on the aerial refueling

process, see Derek Ferwerda et al., Aerial Refueling Probe/Drogue System: ARSAG Guidance

Document (Xenia, OH: Aerial Refueling Systems Advisory Group, 2018).

April 1967

———

281

Even the beautiful moon is gone right now and it’s raining of all stu-

pid things! Oh well, the lizards sure don’t know the difference. . . .

Late, Baby, late. Need some sleep and a new day. These last two

weren’t too much. Thank the Lord, we can start all over again each day,

huh?

Goodnight, Sweetheart.

I sure love you,

Ray

K . L

Tuesday

25 April 1967

Hmm,

How did you like the two-day silence? There’s a teeny tiny thundercloud

brewing, and news of the nurses did not help matters much today. How

would you like it if I said I had some men in, just raring to “dance,” all

freshly shaven? Well, that’s what I thought of your bob-tailed nurses. Like

zilch. Please don’t tell me they were kinda nice. . . . No female is nice.

They are all bitches and may the good bitch win. That’s me.

Figure 34. Unplug the APU

cartoon

Source: Savage, Stice family col-

lection.

Chapter Seven

———

282

How come you are so dumb? Like do I have to come over and take

care of you? Sweetheart, there is only—repeat after me—ONE WOMAN

in your life. That’s what the marriage license says and I say. There is only

ONE WOMAN in your soul. I believe in good husband brain washing

and right now you sure got (bad English) a dirty brain and it needs wash-

ing. So, just remember my arched eyebrows, my dirty looks (cold, cold

looks)—in fact, I think I’ll send you my worst picture in this one, as that

should put a good wifely scare back in to you. Also, if you can’t remember

that, do remember I can unscrew doors, smash seashells, stop talking for

two days, ah, oh yes, dump out drawers, and hell hath no fury, etc.

Please do not feel henpecked, because you know darn well that I am

the world’s most generous woman about other women as long as I am

there to guide you through the maze.

It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just that I don’t trust you. Got that?

As a matter of fact, I trust belly dancers more than I trust nurses. At least

they are honest.

END OF LECTURE

And I’ve been so good writing every day! It’s enough to make me go

boo hoo. You rake!

REALLY, END OF LECTURE.

. . .

I don’t even know if I’ll tell you what I did today. I saw A Man for

All Seasons and he got beheaded and now I don’t even care. He was nice

enough to tell his wife she was a lioness. That really was kind of sweet.

All I can be is a monster, because I married a monster man and have four

monster children.

. . .

It’s midnight and I’m not going to sit around here talking to you all

night. I just wanted you to know how much I enjoyed hearing about the

nice time you had with the nurses. It sure sounds like a lot of fun over

there, and I would sure like to be there only I bit all my nails off today.

You tell the nurses that your wife, Fang, says hello. How do you want their

eyeballs—rare, medium, or well done?

P.S. How do you want your bed—made or unmade? Ever tried sleeping

on the floor? Don’t bother about moving your bed so you can be closer to

me. Just dump it on the floor and crawl under it.

Got that? . . .

April 1967

———

283

Hmm, two diamonds would be nice. Dear me, turn your back for one

second and just look what happens!

I guess I’d better go to bed. It’s obviously a hopeless case. Three dia-

monds are even better. Some things really cost you.

K . L

Tuesday night

25 April 1967

Hi Sweetheart,

How is you? Your letters say you’re just great. That’s to my liking. . . . Do

you have to put your pen in the icebox to cool it off? You’ve been writing

up a damn storm!

I was all set to pop some corn tonight and decided better not. I don’t

think the Viet Cong are ready yet and I sure don’t want to foul up their

schedule, maybe next Tuesday.

. . .

The Army has moved two brigades in here to replace the Marines who

have gone up north. The Viet Cong hit us the day they got off their air-

craft. That’s why their casualties were so high. They hadn’t had a chance

to dig in yet and I’ll be damned if they didn’t hit right where we were

unloading their aircraft.

. . .

My back stoop is almost done. Today, I got the most beautiful

195-pound ugly monster in the world—our own WC [water closet]! Still

have to scrounge all the dock floats for a septic tank and all the necessary

goodies to make it go “swish.” Think I’ll just break it out and sit on it for

practice. I want to refamiliarize my fanny with the better things in life

slowly. I can’t afford a mistake, you know!

. . .

Terrible tonight, huh? Well, has my love changed? Yup, worser and

worser.

I do too!

Ray

MABS-13, ComdC April 1967.

Chapter Seven

———

284

K . L

Thursday night

27 April 1967

Hi Baby,

. . . Just finished two beers and a steak dinner. The Army’s shooting up a

storm, and I’m going to bed . . .

Your siege with the teacher sounds grimsville. Don’t back off—strike

out at the vein. I mean straight to the eyeball. Hit her over the head. She

asks you about your husband, you ask her about hers. . . . Don’t let teach-

ers scare you, that’s for the kids! I’m not so sure we can expect mental

giants from near morons in the first place! I was a C student, whether

I tried or not, and you sure didn’t attempt anything special in math or

electronics. I’m not sure at what level we can expect our kids to peak out,

just average, I’d say offhand.

. . .

Appreciate the thought on the Playboy. You win fannies up and down.

Did you know I got a bill in the mail the other day from the Ilikai for a

broken bed spring? $18.32—cheap at half the price! I was going to send

you the bill, but I thought Bill Austin would like it better!

I never have figured out whether it was the first night or the last night.

Oops, it’s sleep time before it’s quitting letter time. So. . .

Yeah, you’re right I’m a dirty rotten bastard so-and-so.

Good night, Darling. I know you don’t believe it, but I do,

LOVE YOU,

Ray

K . L

Friday

28 April 1967

Dear Friend,

Next thing you know, it will be dear comrade. Check your six. You sound-

ed harassed in today’s letter. Perhaps I should melt and let nurses be

nurses. I’m feeling a little harassed myself though. Kathy has strep throat.

Nothing serious. She just is fussy. . . .

April 1967

———

285

Actually, I’m kind of bored. Sort of like the man who painted himself

into a corner. . . .

. . .

The weather has been in the 50s. A cool front blew in and, for a min-

ute this morning, I remembered the Virginia fall vividly. Also had a slight

feeling of the excitement we’ll all feel when the cool weather comes here

next fall and blows you in. I never thought I’d liked Virginia, but it really

has its moments in the fall.

. . .

Actually, I am glad we have the warmth and playfulness of summer

coming up. That will make me sweat for real, but not mentally. . .

As far as our taking pot shots at each other, I really regret some of

those times, but I don’t worry about them. If we could learn not to step

on each other’s boils, we’d have it made.

One thing I found myself not regretting today at the birthday par-

ty. All the girls had only one baby—just beginners—I was the oldie and I

wouldn’t go back through those ouch years for anything! Life has really

been worth living again these past two years with no more drooling burpie

babies. I really enjoy the company of girls my own age much better. And

your company is best of all. Nice and raunchy old! If that’s what we are.

It was almost a relief to come home to your nice grimmsville letter.

I’m much too old to be around sweet young things, especially when they

make me feel my horns! For instance, I didn’t dare talk about my 7-year-

old son, much less my 9- and 10-year-old girls! I live in another world from

theirs, but I have one toe still in with Kathy. That’s the weird part.

. . .

It’s Huntley-Brinkley time. Write me a sweet letter. I need one. One

that says I do not like nurses. I like you.

Gigabeth

K . L

Friday night

28 April 1967

Hello Darling,

There! You are back in my good graces again. I guess your poor pitiful

Pearl letter did it with the lizards and mud hens and absolutely weird

Chapter Seven

———

286

description of midair refueling.

I never could tell for sure if you got it

or got it, lost it, to hell with it. It was vivid but I missed a few details. But

that’s okay. You can retell that one when you come home! Seems like you

used your head, which was working just fine despite the weather, radio,

and aircraft.

I know it’s disappointing to go to that much effort and feel it’s wasted,

perhaps if the primary mission doesn’t come off, or secondary too some-

times. But considering all the facts, you do just fine. Can’t win them all

as you say.

I think sometimes of the guys who fly over Hanoi and then are told by

the politicians here that it’s not doing any good. They must feel frustrated

too. But this whole WAR is frustrating to everyone. Seems to be a matter

of degree.

Karen’s latest philosophy tonight is “at this age (10) all the unimport-

ant things make me happy.” Isn’t that cute? She said that after sitting on

the porch sketching her sister and feeling at peace with the world after

making a 100 on a math test.

. . .

Kathy got her shot today in her fanny for the strep throat and the

doctor said he’d listen to her heart again when she’s all well, “as the heart

works harder when there’s an infection.” She was fine getting the shot,

but it hurt most when she thought about it!

Karen is spending the night with “Gramma” and Robin and Kirk are

in the same room as a treat too, though Kirk had to get a spank and a

lecture first. Shall we just say his behavior leaves much to be desired? He’s

a restless, noisy bundle of energy and he makes noises all the time. Why do

boys make noises? I live with rockets, bombs, bangs, etc. And he’s teaching

Kathy too, which disturbs her grandmother to no end! But delights Kathy.

But for all that, when I put on my father look—a long hard stare—he

simmers right down. As a matter of fact, he really doesn’t bother me much

at all because I’m used to him, but Mother isn’t and she calls my attention

to him, like putting his hand in the glass to get ice out just isn’t done!

. . . I love it when he shouts defiantly at the girls, “Don’t brag on me!” And

we all know he means, “Don’t tell on me.” But tonight, he learned the

Poor pitiful Pearl refers to a cartoon character and doll created by author and cartoonist

William Steig ca. 1956. He is most well-known for his 1990 picture book Shrek!, which was

later adapted by Dreamworks Animation for the film in 2001.

April 1967

———

287

real meaning of that word, so he won’t use it anymore. The girls got “put

down” too, so he was satisfied at least.

I’m also teaching him not to expect instant success. He hated to spell,

but I’ve taught him the trick to it (sounds) and he can face a few mistakes

at last without fear. It’s been such an effort for him all year that he wanted

only praise.

Guess I’ll close now, before you say I’m wearing out my pen again.

I get depressed when I don’t think about you, so it’s really better to

think about you and get it all on paper. That way I’m downright cheerful.

I don’t know how you are, but I’m fine! If you were home, you’d have

fallen asleep on the first page.

Goodnight, Love,

Gig

K . L

Sunday afternoon

30 April 1967

Hi Honey,

Better late than never I say. I was all set to write you last night and I got

a pleading call from H&MS for a night F-9 arty [artillery] spot hop the

wing wanted. So, four hours later, I finally got to bed tired, hungry, and

odoriferous. I had already read your latest letters fortunately and the group

Robin/Don one. I sure wish I could answer them individually, but don’t

count on it.

I’m getting behind at work—the colonel went to Cubi Point, Philip-

pines, Friday afternoon and isn’t back yet. He must have liked what he

found!

Would you believe we scrounged a total of four wash basins plus a

regular shower head, 200 feet of water pipe, the commode, and a big

pontoon section from an old floating dock on the beach for a septic tank,

and today I have a couple of plumbers helping put it all together! May be

another week before it’s all working, but it sure will be nice, any or all of

it. I may be a bit premature (socially) on the septic tank because there are a

couple of commanding officers that don’t have flush facilities, but neither

Naval Air Station Cubi Point served as the primary maintenance, repair, and supply

center for the 400 carrier-based aircraft during the Vietnam War.

Chapter Seven

———

288

have they asked for them. Besides, I’m still not sure where the commode

came from; it’s not Marine Corps, I know that. I’m sure the group execu-

tive officer will have a few terse comments any way you slice it. We do have

two executive officers and two very senior majors.

Whooee, it’s getting hot down here, and the winds are from the south

to boot. Already wearing light night jungle utilities and working and sleep-

ing under a fan. Keeps the bugs off too.

Tomorrow is May Day.

I wonder what sort of tricks the bastards

will drum up tonight. I’m sure not letting any of our people go on liberty

today, that’s for sure. The Vietnamese are also voting local elections today

and tomorrow. These little villages look like teeming ant hills on election

days. They come from miles around, all in black P.J.s and white straw hats

just like the Viet Cong.

. . .

It’s almost time to get back to work. I think I’ll see if the mail goes

out in the morning.

You’d think this was a damn Army base. I lost count but Stars and

Stripes say 4,000–5,000 or thereabouts but it looks like 10,000.

Chop-

pers—Lord, they’re all over the place. Bell UH-1 Iroquois (Hueys), they

drive them like cars all bunched up roaring down the freeway, and artil-

lery—every sandpile has something sticking out of it. Matter of fact, we

found a bunch of their machine guns all set up and sandbagged in exactly

our direction. We turned them around in a hurry.

Time to go. I love you, Baby Doll. I’d like to leap in bed with you, but

I gotta go to work so maybe next time!

Love,

Ray

K . L

Originally celebrated through much of Europe, May Day marks the beginning of sum-

mer, with most activities based on nature, including bonfires, the maypole, garlands. For

Canada and the United States, the holiday would later mark International Workers’ Day.

For more on U.S. Army command roles and structure in Vietnam, see Graham A. Cos-

mas, MACV: The Joint Command in the Years of Escalation, 1962–1967 (Washington, DC:

U.S. Army Center of Military History, 2006), 314–20.

April 1967

———

289

Saturday night

30 April 1967

Hello Dearest,

This one will be a short one tonight. Nothing really very much has hap-

pened. I had the Austin’s and the Kirkpatrick’s over for a cookout last

night, only I didn’t cook. They did and outdid themselves. We just fur-

nished the house and barbecue pit.

. . .

If I put our life under a microscope, you might be surprised at some

of the things I want and don’t talk about, like music lessons for the kids, a

bike for Kirk, new furniture, the rugs we don’t have, the stove, icebox, etc.,

we will need someplace, somewhere—not to mention house!

I just don’t know how many more years we can go on denying the

things we really need. We had a nice pact about saving while the kids were

young, but if the truth be known, they aren’t so young anymore and I have

three hungry hands dipping into the purse every day and wondering why

they don’t get an allowance. You’re probably thinking, she needs some

money and it’s true, I’m feeling broke at $1,781.63—that’s counting May’s

$363 deposit. But it’s not really that. I’ll admit this would have been a

nice year to occupy myself with house redoing, but I figure we’ll get that

done together when you come home and we’re feeling more flush.

No, I know all these things will be done eventually, it’s just that I find

I have more time to think of them now with no more babies coming along

and there’s a new direction to take. I just wondered if you’d noticed.

There’s no pressing need for some things, like absolutely needing a baby

bed, but the needs are subtler now. And since you’ve always left a lot of

the keeping the family happy bit up to me, I’ve tried to make everything

seem honkey dory all the time.

But the truth of the matter is telling our little needs now embarrasses

me. It’s so easy to sound wrong, and I think we need a new approach to

needs. A family putting heads together sort of thing. I guess I kind of need

you to talk things over with. I hate to be the one to say always, “The kids

need new shoes; we need a this or a that.” What we need is a new trust in

each other, a fearlessness, but not a foolhardiness.

. . .

I know I’d like to be able to discuss everything with you. . . . I liked the

way you told me to tell you if I’m unhappy or worried about something.

Chapter Seven

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290

That you didn’t want to hear it secondhand from relatives. That’s the way

I want it too, but I’m not masculine—have you noticed—and it’s a mascu-

line thing to be aggressive.

I wonder if you know what I’m trying to say? I guess it’s just that our

life is changing, and I hope we can weather all the storms and trials ahead

as well as we have the past 12 years. Maybe together, we can come up with

some magic glue.

Hmm, some short letter, huh? Crazy old me. I just miss you, that’s all.

You can move your bed back to the near side of the Pacific Ocean now.

Such a funny man, such a funny wife, such a funny life. No, I haven’t

forgotten the war. I just like to not think about it once in a while. Take

good care, Love. I’m glad you think we’re fine, because we really are. Bless-

edly fine, only I can dream, can’t I?

XXXs,

Gig

———

291

MAY 1967

Monday

1 May 1967

Hi Sweetie,

Oh, I’m highly insulted that the dear old Ilikai Hotel charged us with that

atrocious bill! I feel thoroughly had. Something must be wrong with us.

We thought it was such a good bed too! I swear, I raved about it as much as

I did the whole vacation. Sure proves I’m not a princess. Only don’t tell

a soul. Well, you’re a prince to pay it with such nobility and tell me it was

worth it. I thank you, My Love!

. . .

Thank you for your bugs—they are huge—but you can keep them. I have

your teeth. I really don’t need your bugs. I also have your children, which

is about as generous as I can get.

Speaking of children, we are all becoming baseball players as of today.

Kirk and Randy ran out of stores to raid for candy, so I hauled out your

old softball, glove, and bat, and we are the hit of the neighborhood. We

have wild games in the front yard, with the tops of trashcans for bases.

Much yelling and screaming. Very good therapy. I recommend it to you.

. . . Also, they’ve been busy making Mother’s Day presents, and this

will be a way for them to celebrate what to them is a big sentimental day.

I’ll tell them tomorrow.

Chapter Eight

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292

. . .

They say the mail is stacked up in San Francisco, and they’re shipping

it to Seattle to unplug.

But your letters come through fine.

I appreciated all that good advice on how to give a double whammy to

a teacher, but I repeat, next time, you talk to them!

. . .

Gotta go to bed. We changed to daylight saving time and I get up with

the birds now.

XXXs, love, prince, lover. You are an $18.32 LOVER!

Gig

K . L

Tuesday night

2 May 1967

Hi Honey,

Nurses? What nurses? Those horse bags? . . . Don’t send me your worst

look. I got it—I got it—no looking at nurses! Damn, seven pages of no

nurses. You would have written a book if I’d even spoken to one, which

I didn’t. . . . They even had a Navy captain with them—that’s a Marine

Corps colonel who swims.

Oh well, to hell with them. I do see the ship USS Sanctuary (AH 17)

at sea, and it’s nice to know there’s a hospital floating out there.

The

Marines from Dong Ha and Khe Sanh filled it up the other day. Matter

of fact, I was up calling artillery Sunday and, after a couple of hours, they

asked me if I could please locate the damn mortars that had been drop-

ping in on them for the last hour! I dropped down and searched but I

never did actually see where they were shooting from. They did stop, how-

ever. I made them think I saw them apparently. Finally got to refuel with

the tanker again twice that day. It did tons for my ego. That’s the second

time I ever refueled air to air. The last time was in 1955 at Marine Corps

For more on postal issues at the time, see Report to Congress: Problems Affecting Mail Service

and Improvements Being Taken (Washington, DC: Comptroller General, 1974), particularly

chap. 1.

For more on medical support during the war, see Cdr F.O. McClendon Jr., “Doctors

and Dentists, Nurses and Corpsmen in Vietnam,” U.S. Naval Institute Proceedings 96, no.

5 (May 1970).

May 1967

———

293

Air Station Cherry Point, North Carolina, and it was just a temporary dry

run, not the real thing.

The picture I sent is an old sergeant that worked for me back in Ma-

rine Fighter Attack Squadron 312 (VMFA-312) at Cherry Point. He’s

Gunnery Sergeant W. S. Vinson now and that’s one of our Grumman F-9

Figure 35. Maj Ray Stice and GySgt W. “Scotty” Vinson after one of their

“Shoot through the teeth F-9s” missions

The F-9 aircraft that got shot through the shark’s teeth painted on the

bottom of the aircraft

Source: Stice family collection.

Chapter Eight

———

294

Cougars I fly in the back. Some idiot painted shark’s teeth on the guns

and the eyeballs are streaked with red now. Funniest looking eyeballs you

ever saw! Just right for the early early!

Tonight, really is something special. We have a pipe instead of the old

moldy water hose and four sinks and the shower and a brand new set of

copper coils for the heater. Voila—hot water in the hooch! . . . All we have

to do now is finish up on the commode and septic tank. Want the honor

of the first flush? GET BACK. It’s not hooked up yet. I sit on it now and

then, so the shock won’t be so great when it’s for REAL! I’ve been telling

everyone that big steel tank out front is really a new bomb shelter. Not too

sure they all believe it.

Well, Nurse, I mean WIFE, good noggin flogging!

Ray

K . L

Thursday

4 May 1967

Hi Sweetie,

It’s Thursday—a wet, cool, rainy trash day. Yesterday was a wet, cool,

rainy Wednesday party day. I let Karen and Robin have 4 girls each

over for a Coke party and we had 10 screaming, yelling, giggling girls

in the house. They had a dance contest and a kickball contest and a

lovely time. Mother came to the rescue and took Kirk and Kathy away

to do errands, and they came home with a red-striped kitten the shade

of Kathy’s hair.

So, today, it is a wet, cool, rainy Thursday and trash day with a red

kitten, which Kathy is chasing, while I write you amid the breakfast dish-

es. The kids got up, scolded me for forgetting to turn on the dishwasher,

washed some bowls themselves, and barely got off to school because of

a lovely game of kitty with giggles. Kitty also made them late to bed. But

kitty is not my problem, except feeding, cleaning, and lifesaving it. It also

sat on my lap late last night, so I guess it stays.

I had the heat on last night and, as usual, got hot around 0300 and

had a dream about you before I could go back to sleep. A bit confused

that kitty was on the table. Funny thing about the dream, a letter from you

came, and I was chasing the letter as it was blowing around.

May 1967

———

295

Well anyway, I do dream about you sometimes too, because I was

awake enough to remember that one last night. . . . I went to the commis-

sary Tuesday and left some pictures to be developed. That’s good news for

the future anyway.

I hope a letter from you comes today. Your last one was written to me

last Thursday night. It’s too bad we’re a week off, but we do pretty well

considering. . . .

XXXs and love,

Gig

K . L

Thurs noon

4 May 1967

Okay, Comrade Nurse!

Enough is enough is enough! No more . . . nursing your jealousy, okay? . . .

See, you are easy to please. That’s why I love you, you give in so gracefully.

I forgot how to spell “begrudgingly.”

. . .

It really is getting hot now. The other day (yesterday), it hit 110 de-

grees. You know how that feels, and it was the day I flew 3.8 hours in the

damn F-9. Man, I was bushed all day long and even drank a whole canteen

of water airborne during three in-flight refuelings and calling artillery.

And it’s only the first week in May yet . . . ugh! . . .

Slow but sure, we are able to solve a few problems. We have a good

water supply now and we are beginning to tip in our semipermanent

electricity a little at a time to get out of these poor overworked short

life generators.

But people and parts are still our two biggest problems.

We have one-quarter of all the Marines over here as it is and need at

least one-third or better. And the highest priority requisition still takes

months instead of hours. We just got a few parts they ordered in Sep-

tember. I saw a rebuilt generator we sent out when I first got here in

October just come back last week. Man, that is what you call a long lead

time! Whoa, back to work!

And a sleepy hello again. It’s dark out and my eyes shut with the sun. I

MABS-13, ComdC May 1967.

Chapter Eight

———

296

do have that problem over here. . . . We’re going to have sort of a campfire

tomorrow. We’re going to cook something at the officer’s club every other

Friday—maybe hot dogs, maybe steak, not sure. . . .

Goodnight, Darling, I’m falling asleep already.

Love you, Honey,

Ray

K . L

Friday night

5 May 1967

Hi Sweetie,

I think I didn’t write yesterday, but like you I can’t remember now. The

days either fly or drag by. This one went pretty fast.

The darn cat woke me up nibbling on my feet. Last night, I searched

for it high and low and then around 0200 I heard the thud of feet hitting

the floor as Karen padded to the jon. That woke the cat, and the cat woke

Robin, and there I was with two lively girls giggling in the middle of the

night. The cat had been in bed with Karen, who put it in with Robin, and

then was afraid she’d “smush” it in her sleep, so she woke up Rob. I got

it corralled in the little back den room finally only to have it play with my

feet this morning. . . .

I discovered Kirk’s been hoarding oodles of change as his “allowance.”

We had to jimmy open the piggy bank to get order restored. He was a bit

nonplussed, but all is righted again. He just hates to spend his money,

knew I used it sometimes, so felt he could do the same with mine, that

way having plenty for both of us. A pretty good system, but I was begin-

ning to doubt my sanity when my wallet was empty every day! Not stealing,

just mutual appropriation. I gave him a $1 bill plus two 50-cent pieces,

which are his alone, and promised I wouldn’t steal from him anymore! He

felt much better. He in turn gave me $4 in quarters and nickels!

We had a slight scene also about his not going to San Marcos to the

Aquarena Springs.

(You and I took them there once already.) I was called

names (old meanie) and then I told him what I thought of him (pow

Located in San Marcos, TX, just south of Austin, Aquarena Springs, open from 1951

until 1994, is now Meadows Center for Water and the Environment that works to preserve

the biological and archaeological resources in the area.

May 1967

———

297

pow), and all is fine again! . . . Oh, I wish you could see them all. They

are so adorable.

Darling, I haven’t forgotten you. I see you in all of them.

You sound very busy with the colonel in the Philippines again. I

don’t mean Philippines again, just you holding the fort alone again. I

loved the story about the Army pointing its machine guns at the Marines

and the Marines setting them right! Glad to hear the Army is there, nev-

ertheless.

Hope your flush commode is working by now. I can’t imagine what

it’s like to not have one but take your word that it’s good for a man’s dig-

nity to have one!

Gotta close up shop here. Saturday is a long day and I have children

to drive to a birthday swim party at 0930 at the Austin Country Club.

XXXs and such,

Gig

P.S. Obviously, a midnight closing. I can’t even think of a clever one! Will

you forgive me if I’m plain old wife tonight?

P.P.S. For the record, I Love You.

K . L

Sunday

7 May 1967

Hi Sweetheart,

It’s midnight, Sunday night. Somehow, it took me three hours to unwind

tonight or maybe it was the three back issues of Time magazine I got from

Mom’s house. Whatever, it’s still late. I wish you were here to put me to

bed. Or would I be pulling you away from the TV?

We had a fine, fine time today—a perfect Sunday. Got up medium

latish; had a sausage, egg, grapefruit, and sweet roll breakfast; cleaned the

whole house with prods at three big kids; then wrapped ham and peanut

butter sandwiches and headed for the lake.

Wild Bill Coleman bought a houseboat and wanted to christen it with

Mom, Don, and all of us. It turned out to be in a cove by the dam on Lake

Austin. . . .

Formerly Lake McDonald, Lake Austin is a water reservoir on the Colorado River and

most of the coastline is privately owned.

Chapter Eight

———

298

. . .

Karen had a fine time at the Austin Country Club birthday swim

party but felt her swimming was still shaky and she sat on the side a lot.

They need lessons this year for sure!

. . .

Speaking of buying things, I’m buying a new diamond for my wed-

ding ring. Mom dragged me in the jewelry store, and they all somehow

talked me into getting the missing diamond for $35, which didn’t seem

too outrageous. And I knew you’d approve of that. You do approve? Do

you approve $35 worth? No? Okay, I’ll buy my own diamond. This time. I

feel very bare without my ring. Very very bare. That was a wrench. Can’t

wait to get it back.

Got to go to bed.

I love you, Sweetheart,

Gig

K . L

Monday

8 May 1967

Would you believe they tried to show us Gulliver’s Travels Beyond the Moon

last night?

Someone really gave some dozo thought to the distribution

out here.

I hate to tell you, Baby Doll, but every time you have too many family

members over in force, your depression shows like a bright red flag. Their

problems are NOT YOURS. Be a little more open minded in your rela-

tions with them. Sympathize, yes, but JOIN—NO! . . . We have a beautiful,

relatively happy family with our OWN particular problems. We damn

sure don’t want anyone else’s. . . .

Well, enough of that, sort of like getting your boots stuck in the mud.

Yesterday, I finally got the damned artillery to hit something definite.

I was working back and forth on a railroad bridge for almost three hours

and we finally got some direct hits. I sure hated to leave, but we were

getting low on fuel, and I never got to get a damage assessment on their

final barrage.

This movie was considered a Japanese classic for the period. Gulliver’s Travels Beyond the

Moon, directed by Yoshio Kuroda (Tokyo, Japan: Toei Animation, 1965).

May 1967

———

299

I just heard about Illinois not being able to play in the Big Ten. That

sure is stupid.

. . .

I finally got all the requirements for a fifth air medal last week, and

one of these days I’ll hit 100 missions.

I’d like to get 200 before I go

home.

. . .

Don’t get mad if I get in bed early? It’s almost 2100 and it’s a rare

opportunity. Want to come along with your $18.32 fanny? Don’t break my

bed! Might be worth it at that! Damned inflation!

Goodnight, Darling.

Love you!

Ray

K . L

Monday

8 May 1967

Hello Darling,

Just a page note before I go to bed. I’ve been thinking of you very strongly

tonight—all the nicest thoughts. It’s a shame you can’t hear them or that

I can’t write them. Those funny little random thoughts—sometimes com-

parisons about your character and personality and they all add up to an

A report card.

You started the day and week off very nicely with that really great col-

or shot and some very nice chuckles regarding the subject of wives versus

nurses, and you were pleased with yourself about the tanker refueling, so

I felt good with you. And it’s no wonder you got such a nice reception in

my mind tonight. If I told you all I thought, your head would fairly swim,

so it’s better to keep you innocent. . . .

I’ve decided you have your mother’s lightheartedness and your fa-

ther’s serious side in just the right combination with some of your grand-

Evidence showed that athletic and university administrators had been violating the con-

ference rule that forbids paying for more than room, board, tuition, and fees to athletes.

Dan Jenkins, “The Fighting Illini,” Sports Illustrated, 6 March 1967.

MABS-13, Command Chronology (ComdC), 1201077124, May 1967, Box __, Folder

077, U.S. Marine Corps History Division Vietnam War Documents Collection, Vietnam

Center and Sam Johnson Vietnam Archive, Texas Tech University.

Chapter Eight

———

300

mother’s sweetness like you described her. There’s a lot of pure Ray there

too. I wish I had my personality so easily defined. Whatever it is, it’s worth

all these years (check that plural!) without you. That’s the main thing. You

are worth waiting for. And I’m glad I’m the one who’s doing the waiting.

It would have been so much easier with someone else, but I would never

have been satisfied deep inside my soul. So! There it is, you satisfy my

soul, in memory as in person. That’s about as good as you can get where

marriage is concerned.

. . . . I got tired of being a “Father” tonight and told him [Kirk] if he

didn’t get better, I’d tell his daddy on him! My goodness, you loomed like

a real mean Daddy image then and we both got scared. I was ready to run

to his rescue! Probably undid the whole bit again. I have a terrible time be-

ing a father, but when I do, it only makes it harder on me to be a mother

again. I found out that boys sure do pull the wool over their mother’s eyes!

I found that out while being a father! Please come back and be a father,

only be sure to be a nice one. After the struggle we’ve had this year, we

both deserve a rest. . . .

Got to go to bed. I love you, Dearest. I wish I could say it in two pages

like you do. But I may be able to act out a father image, but the male act

absolutely defies me! That calls for the real McCoy.

. . .

XXXs and such,

Gig

K . L

Wednesday, almost night

10 May 1967

Hi,

How is yours? Mine’s going around in circles—two of them. First, they

asked for all the lieutenants through majors (me) to screen all record

books for all air liaison officer/forward air controller (ALO/FAC) trained

or experienced personnel (remember I went to that 1958 Jacksonville,

North Carolina, and that two- and three-week school I had at Norfolk,

Virginia, first). Well, three majors in MABS alone fill that order from the

The term real McCoy refers to something or someone that is neither an imitation or a

substitute and it was first used ca. 1898.

May 1967

———

301

wing at Da Nang. Guess they need some fresh fannies up at Hills 881 and

861.

Well, only time will tell who gets nominated for that clerk duty.

. . .

Did I leave a box with NBC [nuclear/biological/chemical] notes in it

in the closet? I remember now—finally after eight hours of searching my

brain—all my notes are in my brown briefcase (leather). It’s in the closet

there by the garage door, up top I believe next to my blue hat box and alu-

minum cover stretcher. That’s where they are. If I do get selected for this

job, you’d really have to pack that case six ways to Sunday—in a real heavy

and deep packing box and about six to eight wrappings with addresses at

each layer and the whole thing insured for $300 and sent air mail special

delivery.

The colonel said coyly as he was holding the phone, “How’d you like

to spend the rest of your tour in Iwakuni?” . . . I said, “Voluntarily?” He

says, “Yes.” I said, “Only if I’m ordered too, for which I would gladly

volunteer.” . . . I guess we’ll know next week. Uncross your toes, damn it!

Odds are bad enough. Maybe they’ll catch Major Ray E. Bright as he slips

into the system!

. . .

There’s only one thing that could possibly have a chance at weath-

ering all the tremendous variances and complexities of this stupid atmo-

sphere and that’s our love. Thank the Lord for that. If I ever learn to pray,

it will be because of our love. Nothing else would be that meaningful. And

love I do you.

Ray

These hills were in the Khe Sanh area and likely this personnel shift was leading up

to the first Battle of Khe Sanh. See Maj Gary L. Telfer, LtCol Lane Rogers, and V. Keith

Fleming Jr., U.S. Marines in Vietnam: Fighting the North Vietnamese, 1967 (Washington, DC:

History and Museums Division, Headquarters Marine Corps, 1984), chap. 4.

Maj Bright was the first Marine to fly more than 400 fixed-wing combat missions in a

one-year tour of duty. On 30 July 1968, Bright flew his 400th mission as the executive

officer for Marine Attack Squadron 121 (VMA-121) in a Douglas A-4E Skyhawk. See the

Jonathan Abel Collection (COLL/3611) Marine Corps Archives, Quantico, VA; none

of the command chronologies for the period list Bright or his achievement. VMA-121,

ComdC July 1968, Box __, Folder 079, 1201079077, U.S. Marine Corps History Division

Vietnam War Documents Collection, Vietnam Center and Sam Johnson Vietnam Ar-

chive, Texas Tech University.

Chapter Eight

———

302

K . L

Wednesday night

10 May 1967

Hello Dearest,

You one upped me this week. I got a letter from you—my third long one

this week and I’m overwhelmed—but I didn’t get one written this morn-

ing. But I’ve got a nice bonus for you tonight. The lovely pictures of Kathy

and me. I hate to part with them myself! You’ve got to promise to bring

them back as it costs $5 for a set of two each and Mom took these, so I’ll

have to get more if I want some for me.

Monster man, pictures cost money. MONEY. That stuff you’ve got

lots of and I don’t. Remember me, the girl who doesn’t make money, she

uses it? The bankroll here reads $1,672. Does that give you a picture of my

financial straits? Well, maybe not strapped but hanging on for dear life

with my teeth.

But this isn’t to be a financial tirade. I’m not in the mood for that.

Your letter to the kids was too sweet and too cheerful to put you in any

kind of bad mood. I feel so good when you’re cheerful. I even bless the

Australian girls for coming to Chu Lai, especially since you said they were

such ugly ones. How sweet of them to be ugly! . . .

Our anniversary falls on Father’s Day this year. That should make it

a significant day. Only what do I give a father/husband far away? Maybe

cookies baked now would arrive by then! Yum, yum. . . .

I promised you cookies 12 years ago to get you to come up from Kings-

ville, Texas. The bait still works. Imaginary bait at that! . . .

I’m glad you are sleeping better. That is just great news. If you’ve gotta

do what you’ve gotta do, you gotta do it with a healthy, rested, calm body.

I try to keep the same thought, and I’m in fine shape. No fair counting

my two-hour naps with Kathy every day. A girl needs her beauty sleep. Oh,

I’ll never live that down. Never again can I complain of working too hard.

And I do work hard. I cleaned silver, scrubbed the couch and floor on my

hands and knees, vacuumed, mopped, defrosted an icebox, mopped up

milk, and mopped this week.

Going to bed now. I think we’re both doing just fine! . . .

Goodnight, Love,

Gig

May 1967

———

303

K . L

Friday morning

12 May 1967

Dear Sweet,

After yesterday’s big letter to you with those glopslush pictures, there’s

really nothing big to go in this one. But I probably won’t have a chance to

write Saturday or Sunday and I don’t want you to get lonesome!

. . .

Did you notice how Kathy put her hand on her hip to imitate my

pose? I can’t wait to hear your comments about her. She calls herself

“Kaki Tice!” And then she’s “Two, Two years old. And likes to ’im in the

’ake.” Swim in the lake. . . .

I saw on TV about some fighting going on pretty near Chu Lai. I

hope things have simmered down. Things seem pretty hot all over the

damn world though, and it isn’t even summer yet! If, oh well, no iffy side

of life. I just have started tying my legs in knots again. I can’t seem to find

that hairy leg when I feel it in bed. Used to wrap a toe on your ankle too

and it puts me to sleep thinking about it.

Gotta pack clothes now. Mom is driving. She says it would take me

five hours if I drove. She’s another get-there-in-a-hurry person. Me? I’m a

foot dragger. And I love your feet.

XXXs and love,

Gig

K . L

Friday night

12 May 1967

Hi Honey,

It’s Friday again, and I just got your last Friday’s letter. Close your eyes and

delete a week and we’re in step! Tonight was not too good in one regard—

VMFA-323’s farewell party—and those are the people I was supposed to

go with originally. Joe Wuertz will be their operations officer. Darn near

made it by default. Their skipper and radar intercept officer (RIO) had to

punch out about three weeks ago and it was a long, long night before they

found them. After a few prayers, they finally found them one at a time

fortunately. I’d just as soon not get into a squadron that way.

Chapter Eight

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304

I guess I can relax about being MAG-15’s NBC officer at Iwakuni.

They took a chance and offered a guy’s name who has a September rota-

tion tour date—they wanted October or later—and he’ll probably go. We

still have our work cut out for us. Major General Louis B. Robertshaw has

named this an air station—a Marine Corps air station (MCAS) mind you—

the first one south of Japan. We’ve been working on it ever since Colo-

nel Kenny C. Palmer took over the squadron and the real work hasn’t

started yet.

I’m not sure whether we’re afraid the Army will take over or

what, but only the secretary of the Navy can actually designate an MCAS,

not a wing commander. Anyhow, we’re going through all the low orbital

motions anyway with signs all over the place, meetings, plans, the whole

bit. Nothing to guide on—writing our own table of allowances (personnel

mostly).

. . .

Sorry, Baby, got to take a shower before my skin falls off and get in

that lonesome bed!

Goodnight, Darling.

I love you, Gig,

Ray

K . L

Sunday night

14 May 1967

Hi Honey,

I just got your seven-page “note,” where you couldn’t decide whether to

beat up Kirk or to love me or both! Why not both and then reverse the

process when I get home, then I can beat up Kirk and you can love him.

. . .

. . . One thing you can count on is that I honestly and truly do love

you with all my soul, even during the storms that rage now and then and

seem to mean otherwise. Hell, just look back at all the horrible things

we have said and done to each other—they’ve only been transitory. The

deep-rooted basis of our marriage is like an underground river—strong,

deep, and continuous—and likely to pop to the surface and gush all over

you if you’re not careful. . . .

MABS-13, ComdC May 1967.

May 1967

———

305

Did you read anything in the papers about Chu Lai getting mortared

on 12 May? They hit our dock area and wounded some sailors.

Then last

night, they hit a unit right beside Da Nang. The war obviously continues

the march. Yesterday, a Douglas A-4 Skyhawk’s engine quit up where I was

just below the DMZ, and they had him picked up and taken to Dung Ha

so fast I couldn’t believe it. It was as “instant” recovery as I’d ever heard of.

Luck piled six ways from Sunday—I got five cases of Schlitz beer for

practically 11 cents a can. Not too bad! That should take care of me for a

while—couple of days anyway!

I’m still full from steak supper and I have the early, early tomorrow, so

I’d better take a hot shower and go to bed quick.

I hate to leave you when we’re thinking about each other so much.

It’s really hard to turn it off—watch out for the gushes, Honey—goodnight.

Love you,

Ray

K . L

Tuesday in Austin

16 May 1967

Hello Sweetie!

Long time no write. We got back from Houston Sunday evening after a

drive through some rain. No problems except the ones we had in Hous-

ton, and we haven’t figured them out yet. Mom and I “discussed” until

0100 last night but came to no conclusions. More on that in a minute.

Your letter was here and another came Monday canceling the four-

inch flange to my relief. I was just as bewildered as you at the two lovely

choices that you may or may not have! Of course, I don’t want you to be

a FAC on the DMZ. But I can see that NBC is not your joyful cup of tea

either. However, it’s the lesser of two evils you might say. And you could

do it for my sake. At least I would be happy if you went to Japan, even if

you weren’t! Does that surprise you?

Well, seriously, your NBC papers are where you said they were, and

I’ll be glad to get them off to you when and if you say so. As for the other,

I couldn’t hack that and I’m not going to even consider it. That’s bad En-

“Mortar Barrage Strikes U.S. Airstrip at Chulai; American Is Reported Killed and 37

Are Injured,” New York Times, 12 April 1967.

Chapter Eight

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306

glish (split infinitive), but I feel that strongly about it. I’ll sure be anxious

to hear what evolves.

. . .

Gotta quit now as here’s Mom and the mailman.

More in my next [letter].

Love,

Gig

P.S. . . . Glad you don’t have to go to NBC after all and it sounds like you

can stay there and help them turn it into an air station (maybe). I can see

why you said that the Marine Corps says, “Hurry up and wait.” That still

seems to be the case. If you’re quick, you can make it a Marine base before

the Army takes over! Maybe. Pretty wild.

. . . . I love you. You know?

K . L

Tuesday night

16 May 1967

Hi Honey,

Well, saw Phil Elliot this morning. He’s at Iwakuni and can’t wait to come

down here. He looked real good. He saw Major Theo F. “Jack” Aschen-

beck somewhere in the states just last month.

Had another butt-buster artillery spot hop today. They are as slow as

molasses and have absolutely no conception of what they ask you to do for

them even when you explain it over and over again. I take a canteen full

of water and a fresh pack of cigarettes now. Hell, you have to take off your

oxygen mask and helmet to talk to them on their own radio anyway so you

may as well refresh in your labors. I got scrambled up there a couple of

weeks ago at nighttime—pitch black, no moon, no flare ships. You know

what they wanted? A battle damage assessment (BDA) on some damn tar-

get they had shot at that morning!

I told the guy, “Are you going to use

your flashlight, or do you want me to use mine?” No answer naturally, and

then finally, “Wait!” Then, in their utmost ineptness, reiterated, “BDA!” I

asked him, “Have you looked outside? It’s dark out there, Friend.” Finally,

For more on the complexities of BDAs, see Ben Connable, “Vietnam-Era Assessment,”

in Embracing the Fog of War: Assessment and Metrics in Counterinsurgency (Santa Monica, CA:

Rand, 2012), 95–152.

May 1967

———

307

he allowed as how “if we couldn’t give him a BDA, we could go home.”

. . . I’m not so sure about those artillery people sometimes. I’ve seen them

do some wonderful things with their guns that have never been done

before—ever—and then there are some real close-minded ones too. Major

Earl D. Litzenberger was unusually metza metza [so-so], not a good exam-

ple per se. I’ve known some really dynamic ones and the same number of

NERDS—and that’s the way they are. Two opposing minds basically.

. . .

Wish I’d had a tape recorder this afternoon. For about 35 minutes, I

listened in on one of the most dramatic commentary’s I have ever heard:

“Live from above the DMZ.” Some Navy puke in an old propeller AD

Skyraider (Korean vintage) should get written up for at least a Silver Star

for the way he handled the pickup of two fellow aviators who had been

shot down. This throttle jockey really was savvy. The crewmen (pilot trio)

were in two separate ravines with Viet Cong in the middle and all around

them. They were using the survival radios we all carry. The AD took in-

ventory of all their injuries, flares (including color), ammo, controlled

two flights of fighters and attack aircraft on the Viet Cong, and directed

two Sikorsky HH-3E Jolly Greens on them.

The first one got hit in the

engine and had to scoot back to Dong Ha and personally kept their mo-

rale up—“Don’t sweat your radio’s batteries. I’ll throw you down mine.”—

relayed innumerable messages back and forth to the guys on the decks,

the helicopters, the fighters, the attack aircraft and personally hand guid-

ed the second Jolly Green left right down over the injured pilot first then

talked the Jolly Green into picking up the RIO next, even though the

Jolly Green was so full of fuel he protested mightily. Then had to hand

carry him over to the RIO and practically land him on top of the RIO

and he still couldn’t see him in the brush. He had to tell him to lower his

lift hoist down into the boonies and had to tell him not to move while

the guy was being hoisted up through the trees. Whew, such a pro, such

a pickup. Those guys probably will never know how much they owe their

lives to that old Navy spade pilot. He was the only one that actually saw

them and did just marvelously. All this was on my guard frequency. We

always have turned on besides our regular radios. Tomorrow, I’m going to

write it all down before I forget the details and try and find out who this

The Sikorsky HH-3E Jolly Green Giant helicopter was typically used for combat search

and rescue.

Chapter Eight

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308

character is and where in hell he flies from. I think he should get the prop-

er recognition for the professionalism he so clearly demonstrated today.

Lord, it’s late again . . . real sleepy tonight. Goodnight, Darling.

Love to you,

Ray

K . L

Wednesday

17 May 1967

Please don’t mind this paper. I just like it because it’s so big and I can rest

my arm on it. The kitchen table, you know, is often very sticky.

We are having a spell of absolutely gorgeous perfect weather in the

70s and 80s in the day, 50s at night, and I’ve got spring and fall fever

mixed. It’s a perfect day in June weather, only it’s May. It’s also the kind

of day that reminds me of you always. Our first few days in autumn up

there especially.

. . .

Went to the last PTA [meeting] last night, and the kids (older) went

Figure 36. Maj Ray Stice in flight suit at the Chu Lai airfield

Source: Stice family collection.

May 1967

———

309

with me. Kirk decided to leap over a bush as we left in the sunset and

conked his head on the cement. Didn’t quite make it. But no tears.

I’m sending his letter, which is cute anyway. He was in tears over

wanting to make a car, as they are studying transportation, so I told him

to write you. Then he also went next door and the boys there told him

to go to the Boy Scout department at Scarboroughs and get a kit.

So he

decided he didn’t need your advice after all if he can get me to get him the

kit. Hence, he threw the letter away, but I salvaged it.

I sure hope you stay where you are. Seems like that’s the best place

to be, and there’s plenty to do there! So proud of your having enough

missions for five Air Medals. That really is great, Sweetheart. Much hard

work I know.

Hmm, I miss you today. You add such a good spice to my life. It’s real-

ly ever so dull without you. But just having you as my husband is enough.

I know you’re there even if there is somewhere!

Do you know you’ll be home in five months? That’s like nothing.

We’re really over the hump. Bet you get itchy feet to go back as soon as you

are home. I hope not. The war is going on such a long time that I’m afraid

there’s no sense staying to the point of getting Asian fever. If you stay too

long, that sometimes happens. And I don’t mean malaria, I mean Asian

oriented. Like the guy who owned this house and had to go to Guam.

I’m as loose as a goose about you these days though. I’d fly to the

moon to be with you, or go to North Carolina even! Bitching but happy!

Sort of like when we got married. It’s no fun in Austin without you.

Karen just came in, so best I close. She can end up for me today!

I love you, Angel.

Gig

K . L

Thursday

18 May 1967

Hello Sweetie,

I’m starting this letter at midnight, and I’m really half asleep. I’ve been

Scarbroughs was a family owned department store that served the Austin area from 1893

until 2009. See Michael Barnes, “ ‘Makes Me Smile’: Readers Share Scarbroughs in Austin

Memories after Our Story,” Austin-American Statesman, 19 September 2022.

Chapter Eight

———

310

watching the new city council on TV and never knew how a city council

worked. Now, I know. They drone on and on and put you to sleep. And

dear old red-headed Emma Long keeps everybody mad and awake.

Ex-

cept me.

. . .

The big kids are good and sweet and thriving these days. Kirk is get-

ting more handsome, I think, despite his scraped nose and broken tooth.

And the girls are both beautiful. They are such a comfort to me. I’m never

discouraged when they’re around. The world is so beautiful to them. Aus-

tin is a good place for them to be while you’re gone. I know that’s been a

comfort to you too. And we were so lucky to get this house.

Only a week and a half more of school now and POW, BANG,

ZOWIE, Kirk will be home! Kathy and I will be kind of glad—for a while

at least. All for now, Love. It’s goodnight and see you in my dreams time!

XXXs and hugs,

Gig

K . L

Friday afternoon

19 May 1967

Hi Sweetheart,

Those tremendous pictures you sent were all stuck together. I’m going to

put them in the ice box and see if freezing them will help. Fortunately,

they are all stuck at the top so I can see them. I just don’t want to tear

them up yet.

You didn’t get written to yesterday. I figured I owed Mom a letter.

Sorry about that, especially since you have been so great about writing.

. . .

You’re lucky your air conditioner works well. It’s so hot here that my

hut masters taking a sunbath with his fan outside! . . . Were you your usu-

al “sweet-san”? Well, I moved my bed back to the other side of the hooch,

just in case!

Emma Long was a long-time liberal Austin city government official. She was the first

woman elected mayor pro tem by the Austin City Council and was often considered con-

troversial due to her brash and outspoken ways. “Emma Long,” Biography Files, Austin

History Center, City of Austin, TX.

May 1967

———

311

. . .

Today is Ho Chi Minh’s birthday.

One of the squadron flight sched-

ules had on the bottom: “Happy Bombs Day—Ho! Ho! Ho!”

Things have not simmered down a bit. Everything is up, up, up.

You say I’m a foot dragger and you love my feet? Well, you’re a butt

dragger and I love your a——s. So there too! And I also love other delicate

and indelicate portions of you just as well!

I’m not sure how today is going to end up. I’m in a standby status in

the F-9 in one of those long, double plug, triple, ugh, hops and tonight

I finally sniveled a back seat F-4 radar drop hop with an old friend of

mine—Major Robert T. “Bob” Roche—plus inspect the 75 barracks, get

a seat check, and borrow a miniature O

regulator and mask for the F-4

hop. So, it could be a crazy Friday afternoon.

In view of the above, best I get hot and do a lot.

I love you, Darling,

Ray

K . L

Saturday night

20 May 1967

Hello Sweetheart,

This is my third start on a letter. I think my mind is in Vietnam at the

moment. I just finished a very long, very comprehensive article—overall

and specific—about the war, written in the Saturday Evening Post and I’d

send it to you only I don’t think you’d have time to read it.

Although,

I may send it anyway. Typical female logic there, nah? I would so love to

hear your comments about it. I hate not having you to share stuff and

junk, even if it’s only a nod and a reaffirm or, for heaven’s sake, don’t

believe that!

. . .

From now on any purchases you make from the Far East are going to be

strictly for us. I’m quite tired of admiring stuff in other people’s houses.

Ho Chi Minh, founder of the Indochina Communist Party and the Viet Minh, was born

on 19 May 1890 and died in 1969 after almost 30 years leading the Vietnamese nationalist

movement.

Gig may be referring to Stewart Alsop, “Our Naïve President,” Saturday Evening Post 240,

no. 9, 6 May 1967.

Chapter Eight

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312

We need some. You hear! You can just buy up a storm on your way home.

I’m about ready to do a little “impressing” of my own. You never were

against it. You were just married to me, an old humble foot dragger. Well,

I’ve had my babies, and now I’m very interested in my home, papasan.

Ready to live it up once more! Feel like framing your citations, putting out

trophies, fixing up that den (a la the general in Washington!) and being

doggie. Hot doggie! Especially if I have you to play around with it and me

while we do it.

Too much pride is a bad thing, but a little honest pride wouldn’t

turn our heads, would it? I really think I love that wooden plaque from

Quantico the best though. And I’ll go on from there. You’ve got enough

citations to fill a wall. They just need framing. Well, it’s a lovely thought

anyway. Hear, hear!

Goodnight, Dear Heart. Miss you ever so much. You sound just fine

and you’re taking good care of yourself and I’m very pleased with you,

even if you are umpteen miles away! And thank you for taking the time to

tell me you love me and gushing all over me. I don’t mind a bit. It’s such

a lovely change from when you’re around! Gotcha there, didn’t I? Nah,

I’m teasing. I like you anyway, anytime I can get you and I’m glad you feel

the same. Sometimes!

XXXs and loves,

Gig

K . L

Sunday afternoon

21 May 1967

Hi Baby Doll,

And how is it? How is it that you are there and I am here? I never do come

up with a good answer.

Was all sweated and suited up this morning [to spend] over two hours

of waiting for the mechanics to fix various parts on the aircraft. Colonel

Palmer had picked up a small-arms round and we had to change a rocket

pod and the hydraulic pump didn’t work. Finally, everything ready, strap

in, just get the fire lit, and the wing CANKS us.

Yesterday, I was just finishing the preflight inspection and up walks

the wing commanding general. He asks where I’m going, and he grabs

May 1967

———

313

my map and points out a road up north he wanted especially to get hit

just like Twelve O’Clock High on TV.

He’s the hand shakingest general

I’ve ever seen in my life; he salutes and shakes all in the same motion to

anyone who’s within spitting distance. Quite a character.

We had a weird floor show last night—Korean band, two Korean danc-

ers, and a henna hairdoed Aussie twitcher. A twitcher is a twisting strip-

per. Ha! Made a funny! In street clothes, you’d throw up [to see her], but

on the stage, she did have a few things to twitch. She pulled off a dual

strip with one of our new lieutenant colonels, Frank D. Topley.

She

would strip something off of him and he would strip something off of her,

all the time supposedly twisting or whatever it is now swim, I guess. Well,

you know who had the most clothes on and it sure wasn’t Frank. All he

could say was, “Well, at least they were Marine green!”

Slight interruption . . . the colonel just called. We’re going to the

beach for an hour and a half—not that bad; first time actually in seven

months.

It’s nighttime now, although it’s hard to tell with the red glow of my

skin. I’m slightly on the warm side too! Yeah, sunburn, how did you guess?

Saw a guy named Black and Major Robert L. “Bob” Grandek. Bob’s flying

the new Grumman A-6 Intruders that Marine Aircraft Group 12 (MAG-

12) got last month.

He wants to come over and see Joe Wuertz (another

good Catholic).

Oh, did I tell you about the McDonnell Douglas F-4 Phantom II ride

Friday night? Really great—like an old Douglas F4D Skyray with a light fuel

load and that was with 3 tons of bombs aboard (12 500-pound bombs)! It

would take two or three Boeing B-17 Flying Fortresses in WWII to carry

that much, and this damn thing is a fighter! Shimmies and shudders on

The general Stice mentions is likely MajGen Louis Robertshaw, who was the 1st Marine

Aircraft Wing commander from May 1966 to June 1967. 12 O’Clock High was an American

military drama based on the movie of the same title set in World War II and broadcast on

ABC from 1964 to 1967. The series starred Robert Lansing and followed a fictitious U.S.

Army Air Forces group.

LtCol Frank D. Topley was with the Marine Fighter Attach Squadron 314 (VMFA-314).

See Telfer, Rogers, and Fleming, U.S. Marines in Vietnam: Fighting the North Vietnamese,

1967.

MABS-13, ComdC April 1967, Box __, Folder 077, U.S. Marine Corps History Divi-

sion Vietnam War Documents Collection, Vietnam Center and Sam Johnson Vietnam

Archive, Texas Tech University, 3.

Chapter Eight

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314

the deck, but a sweet swan in the air. I kept wanting to grab the stick and

throttle, but there aren’t any in the rear. That’s the radar officer’s “desk.”

Goodnight, Darling. I have to catch up on my sleep, sunburn or no.

I love you, Gig,

Ray

K . L

Monday night

22 May 1967

Hi Sweetheart,

Just 24 weeks until you come home! I just counted. About five months

and one week. Less than the time for a baby. But harder than having one!

The reason I counted was because I’m jealous. Betty Wattinger’s husband

is back after 10 months. That gave me green eyes all right. . . .

The kids and I had a Sunday and a half bailing out your boat. Did you

feel our heat waves? We had a line of pans. I was in the bow of the boat,

and I passed pans of oily water to the girls and they heaved it over the side.

It took an hour. Yes, the cover has ripped and, yes, it rained hard. But we

have the boat dry again. That’s all we know how to do at the moment. I

thought of lassoing a college boy to pump the tire and be our man at the

lake, but I don’t reckon I could find such a man. The only one I know

like that I trust is you. Like YOU. We were a pitiful crew with no captain

at the helm, but you’ve never seen a prouder one! That is one dry boat!

Land locked maybe, but dry. What the hell do you do with a dry boat? You

stand back and look at it, that’s what you do. If there’s one thing I can’t

stand it’s a wet boat!

. . .

Mother said she can’t go to Colorado with us. She can’t stand the

kids. I said, okay, I’ll go and you take care of Kathy. She said okay. Now

all I need is guts and money to go to Colorado. I gotta go someplace this

summer or I’ll go nuts. Hong Kong is out. Too many riots there.

. . .

The riots Gig refers to are the 1967 antigovernment riots in Hong Kong against British

colonial rule. Ray Yep, “The 1967 Riots in Hong Kong: The Diplomatic and Domestic

Fronts of the Colonial Governor,” China Quarterly, no. 193 (2008): 122–39.

May 1967

———

315

I gotta bed to go to and a commissary.

Wanted: one husband and father to go places, do things, and hit

heads. Must have slightly graying distinguished looks, like bow-legged la-

dies with droopy hair, and have a sexy deep voice. Pay: $1,000 kisses.

Reward!

S’nuff, S’nuff,

Gig

K . L

Tuesday afternoon

23 May 1967

Hi Honey,

I’m not sure why I’m writing to you. Your paper ran out or your pen broke

or else the mailman has it in for me. All I received the last week was a

caustic “thanks for the no Mother’s Day” letter from Washington. Our

calendars damn sure don’t have that crap on them. Who knows what day

it is over here to start with. They’re just days like any other day. I do know

today is Buddha’s birthday because all the hops are recons, not drops.

I guess she [Stice’s mother] forgot there’s a war on over here. Well, it’s a

good thing I wrote her before I got her letter or I wouldn’t have written

at all.

At least you are redeemed. I got yours, Kirk, and Karen’s letters this

afternoon—your post-Houston letters.

. . .

Home in five months? No, not quite—June (1), July (2), August (3),

September (4), October (5)—well, you’re almost right. It’s probably about

5 months and 10 days. I should be in Da Nang on 1 November. That sure

is the downhill pull. No, Honey, don’t worry about my wanting to come

back again. My problem will be listening to jerks like Fulbright. Boy, the

According to the operational report for Task Force Oregon, their activities were lim-

ited to surveillance and defensive operations during the cease-fire on 23 May. “Opera-

tional Report for Quarterly Period Ending 31 July 1967,” in Operational Report: Lessons

Learned, Headquarters, Task Division, Force Oregon (Americal Division) Period Ending 31 July

1967 (Washington, DC: Office of the Adjutant General, Department of the Army, 14

February 1968), 20.

Chapter Eight

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316

Viet Cong sure love him, as evidenced by their leaflets found near the

DMZ.

This sure is a crazy war and, of course, the grunts are taking the brunt

of the whole bit. We get ours from time to time, but they get theirs daily.

They have my complete sympathy.

I used a little sympathy on myself this afternoon. I couldn’t sleep a

wink the last two nights from this stupid sunburn, and this afternoon it

not only sunburned but it itched so bad I was at my wits end. I zapped

down to sick bay and got some tetracycline ointment that slowly reduced

the itching down to when I could think about other things. Then, this

afternoon we got deluged in sand—a damn storm rolled off the hills to the

west and really clobbered the place. Good day not to be flying considering

the burn and the sand. I do have the early, early—it’s my 100th combat

mission, if I’ve counted right. Flew many that were not “combat” per se.

And yesterday, I finished enough combat flying for a sixth Air Medal. Not

too bad for an 800-man squadron executive officer paper man, and not

that bad for our (trusty?) old F-9s either.

. . .

You know, the moon was so bright last night that you cast a very dis-

tinct shadow and it really isn’t full for a couple of days. Sure reminded me

of Quantico and some of the beautiful nights we had there. Time to get

some sleep, Darling. Kisses to them that’s appropriate and handshakes to

them that aren’t!

Love to you, Gig,

Ray

K . L

Tuesday night

23 May 1967

Hi Lover,

I don’t know whether to be pleased or insulted. First, you put my picture

in the icebox, then you call me doll, and you ask where I got my hair

Stice is referring to Senator James W. Fulbright (D-AR) who chaired the U.S. Senate For-

eign Relations Committee and held hearings questioning the Lyndon B. Johnson admin-

istration’s handling of the Vietnam War. See David C. Humphrey and David S. Patterson,

eds., Foreign Relations of the United States, 1964–1968, vol. 4, Vietnam, 1966 (Washington,

DC: Government Printing Office, 1998).

May 1967

———

317

done. Like it’s not for real, it must be fake. Kathy got raves too! That is

me. The real me, and I just happened to get my hair done and Mother

just happened to grab a camera quick. I always look that good. For all my

public relations (PR) pictures, that is. Mother got an enlargement for you,

but I’m keeping it. I’m not about to let the Vietnam weather spoil that

gorgeous hairdo! So, it is on ice here for you.

Also, on ice here for you is a present from McDonnell Aircraft Cor-

poration. It came today—a model of the Phantom II. I’m keeping it in the

box it came in, in your closet. Kirk and I merely peeked at it.

. . .

Robin brought home a certificate saying she’s a good reader and

Kathy tore the red seal off, so she got scolded and ran out to the den, fell,

and got a goose egg on her head. That’s life. Karen got a star too for library

work (both got one) and they are good girls. I was hoping to get Kathy’s

picture drawn this week by a good artist Mom knows, with the cat, as it is

the same color as Kathy’s hair. But now the goose egg may delay that. . . .

Mother is still dreading the summer months. . . . Best you enjoy my

letters now, this is the last week before school is out! God, three months

at the swimming pool! Next summer, they are all yours! Now I know why

people send their kids to Europe.

But I’m looking forward to it in a way too. Kathy and I have had some

long lonesome days. She will be delighted to have them home.

Forgive my one-sided conversation here, Dearest. You are having some

wild and woolly days of your own—like every day—and I love hearing about

them, even if I don’t always comment. I adored your dry remark to the

artillery guy, “Shall I use your flashlight or mine?” I wondered if maybe he

thought there were still some live Viet Cong out there and wanted flares

instead of a damage assessment. Can’t blame him if it was that!

Hope you found that great pilot who directed so many things while

flying over the downed pilots, or wounded, whichever. He did sound ter-

rific. Nice to know how good the others can be sometimes, nah? You have

been that great many times too and taught others to be also. I say have

been because I haven’t been around to hear how you been doing this year,

except snatches here and there, and you usually tell me only the bad parts.

I get the good parts from other people. Best you check out a PR man for

me. Not that I really need one. I’d rather have you checking yourself out.

Only add a couple of kisses from your PR girl here. Just to even things out

a bit and all that schmaltz.

Chapter Eight

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318

Goodnight, Love,

Gig

P.S. I am pondering over your financial assessment of my finances. I’m

glad you’re happy, but just remember, “Woman cannot live on $363

alone!” When I yell HELP! Please help. . . .

P.P.S. Do you like to see me sweat? I think you do. I really think you do.

Tears, no. Sweat, yes.

K . L

Wednesday

23 May 1967

Darling,

Today was big flap day at the UN Security Council. They were on TV all

day and came to the conclusion they can’t do anything until U Thant gets

back from Egypt anyway, and the meeting should not have been called

in the first place.

Egypt was pictured with shouting mobs, and Israel

buttoned up. And the United States told Russia to grow up and do some-

thing since it’s their neighbor.

The crisis is over the closing of the Gulf

of Aqaba, a tiny gulf near the Red Sea to the Israelis. Tune in tomorrow!

After the excitement of the DMZ invasion, it was like a ping pong

game to suddenly be looking in the other direction.

. . .

Our future is still so tied up in with your future, naturally, and we

yearn for it to come. The kids have settled in, of course, but despite being

scared of the unknown (North Carolina or South Carolina) they voted

to move! They were somewhat leery of being taken out of school for the

move, as that’s practically like disobeying the teacher, but then cheered up

at the thought of getting to stay out of school the day after you came back.

I will be glad when you can tell them, “Now hear this!” They have

U Thant was a Burmese diplomat who served as the secretary general of the United

Nations from 1961 to 1971. Report of the Secretary-General on the Withdrawal of the United

Nations Emergency Force (New York: United Nations, 1967). After the UNEF withdrew in

June 1967, tensions exploded between Egypt and Israel into the Six-Day War.

The Soviet government would break off diplomatic relations with Israel and attempt

to assist Egypt and Syria. See Isabella Ginor, “The Russians Were Coming: The Soviet

Military Threat in the 1967 Six-Day War,” Middle East Review of International Affairs 4, no.

4 (December 2000).

May 1967

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319

brains now and the orders may need Papa to enforce. No more docile,

“Get in the car, kids” days! “Why?” they’ll say? Don’t worry. The answer

is, “So I can make some money.” They love money and will go anyplace

for it, as they are developing a very healthy respect for it after a year of

scrounging up 30 cents in coins for lunches, etc.

I get quite a bit of very normal, healthy back talk, but would worry

if I didn’t get it. Nothing I can’t control at this point, but it will be

nice to have you to watch them through the so-called “difficult years.”

To tell the truth, I think ours won’t be difficult. We’ve trained them

pretty well.

Goodnight, Dearest,

Gig

K . L

Thursday night

25 May 1967

Hello Darling,

Still got some? For me? Prove it! Ha! That’ll stop you for a while.

Otherwise, I’m great—sunburn’s stopped hurting, washed 20 sets of

skivvies, and got a haircut—so I can make do for another month and a

shorter swim period this time, thank you.

I met my first real live dragon lady today. The wing contracting officer

from Da Nang brought this UN gal down to discuss trash and garbage

pick-up. She has all the Marine units in Da Nang, and she wants to try it

down here. They pick up all the trash, refuse, and garbage for nothing and

sell it to their own people outside.

All except the Navy. The Navy in Da

Nang pays them umpteen thousand dollars a month. Some negotiators,

huh? We told our naval officer to keep his wallet in his pocket, take notes,

and shut up! Well anyway, we had representatives from all the various

Marine units around here today and had a big conference. In a couple of

weeks, if all her Viet Cong drivers pass security checks, we’ll get out from

tons of trash every day. That will ease the load on our vehicles, troops, and

phone calls from irate “citizens.” She’s going to try it for a month anyway.

Did I tell you about the milk we have now? It’s reconstituted, but the

Russell Baker, “ A Better Idea,” New York Times, 7 May 1972.

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320

flavor is exactly right! A hair thin, but we’re drinking it as fast as some

American dairy unit in Da Nang can make it.

Looks like the Army is doing a pretty good job of keeping the Viet

Cong out of here. They shoot up a storm every night. It helps keep them

off balance, and their choppers are becoming more aggressive at night-

time also. Hell, they have more money—shoot ’em up!

I just may go see the first half of the flick. I’ve got the early, early

tomorrow with the commanding officer of H&MS if the aircraft is up.

I had to down it yesterday morning for smoke in the cockpit. There’s a

hydraulic leak somewhere.

I sure hope Kathy is over her tonsillitis by this time. That isn’t any

fun, is it Kathy? I almost got a headache reading about how Kirk tried

to jump over the potted plant at the school that night. I’m sure glad he’s

hardheaded. . . .

I love you, Gig,

Ray

K . L

Thursday night

25 May 1967

Hello Dearest,

Gosh, such creepy crawly days without you. Especially ones with no mail

to answer. . . .

Really, nothing else new here. I’m playing bridge tomorrow as my last

peaceful day without kids. Monday is their last full day of school. They are

already slowing down and acting droopy, like when do we go swimming.

I had to play drill with them in the backyard again tonight. It stays light

until 2000 and they piddle around until 2115! Kathy can ride a tricycle

now, one that Liz A. [Gig’s cousin] loaned me. But all watch too much

TV, because playmates are still rather scarce in this neighborhood, but

then discover each other as playmates right before bedtime! Pow, sock.

See Telfer, Rogers, and Fleming, U.S. Marines in Vietnam: Fighting the North Vietnamese,

1967, 229.

The commanding officer of Headquarters & Maintenance Squadron 13 (H&MS-13)

from 1 January until 30 March 1967 was LtCol Walter E. Domina. The official history

does not list his replacement for this period. See Telfer, Rogers, and Fleming, U.S. Marines

in Vietnam: Fighting the North Vietnamese, 1967, 280.

May 1967

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321

I could sure use a whiff of a good strong male you to gaze at, smell,

pelt, lean on, go to bed with, and in general live with. The TV really isn’t

good for any of those things!

Goodnight, Lovesan,

Gig

K . L

27 May 1967

Hi Honey,

Not much news tonight. It’s late and I’ve torn up four starts already. I

probably ought to go to bed instead! It’s Saturday night and I balanced

the checkbook. It’s been a pretty uninteresting day for a Saturday. Kathy

gave me a headache that’s all. Sometimes, I really think she needs you, or

maybe she senses I need you.

We went to a drive-in movie last night with Liz A., who really needs to

get away, and all kids stayed up until 0100 for both shows: Shenandoah and

Any Wednesday.

Pretty brave. We’ve never done it without you before.

And tonight, we ate watermelon. Old Kirk kept after me until I bought

one. We took it out on the patio and just slurped away. If I can just keep

on coming up with nice simple pleasures like that, we’ll have the summer

made!

I got your letter about getting to the beach for a swim and sunburn

last Sunday, and I’m so glad you could—get to the beach that is! And I’m

glad to hear you saw a strip show? That sounded more interesting than

some of the movies they’ve booked for you all. I’m sure anything is a wel-

come break from routine and work. I just wish wives had USO shows too!

. . .

Had a fine meal though, and afterward we played Monopoly—Don,

the kids, and I—until Don could stand it no longer. Kirk was winning

with all the property, but wouldn’t trade so we could build, and we were

all stuck with our power mad seven-year-old winning! He didn’t want to

build; he was happy just collecting rent! Karen is a dignified banker these

An American western in Shenandoah, directed by Andrew V. McLaglen, starring James

Stewart (University City, CA: Universal Pictures, 1965); and a romantic comedy in Any

Wednesday, directed by Robert Ellis Miller, starring Jane Fonda and Jason Robards (Bur-

bank, CA: Warner Brothers, 1966).

Chapter Eight

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322

days. The fifth grade has finally made an elementary mathematician out

of her! Wonder of wonders! Robin is a screecher at the Monopoly table,

and Kirk of course just sits back and can’t read the Chance or find the

rent or make the change. But he loves to make money! It is wild and won-

derfully woolly.

. . .

The sweet innocent boy sometimes curls my hair though. . . .

Anyway, tonight I tried to explain that sometimes boys get chewed out

by adults when they really aren’t bad, but adults think they are or that they

will be. A rather difficult lecture. I suppose I was explaining why one has to

conform sometimes. It’s better than prison is always my best point! Kirk’s

eyes get as big as saucers.

Well, Love, I will close. I miss you more than you could dream, but

I’m doing fine and know you are too. Life will seem incredibly easier

when we’re together again though and I’m all for that.

Goodnight, Sweetheart,

Gigabeth

K . L

Saturday night

27 May 1967

Hello Baby,

Did you get my letter written Thursday, 25 May? I sure hope so. I had

the early, early that day—0400 reveille, usual routine in the dark, drove

off to the briefing room at group headquarters, ran in, briefed, and I’m

out. Oops, no letter. I had it. Where is it? Gone! Damn! Later, got to go!

Aircraft was down, no flying—CANK—turn in the maps, etc. Where in

hell is that letter? No one saw it. I hope someone saw it and mailed it. Tell

me you got it please? I thought it was kind of a nice letter. I’ll be repeating

myself for months, you watch.

Still no toilet to flush. Some things move slowly, eh?

I feel like a snake. My skin is molting all over. I’m getting a new birth-

day suit! Ha. Stupid, stupid. I’d give you hell if you got sunburned like

that, huh? Hey, you know what? You don’t? Sorry about that.

I’ve only gotten to fly one time since Saturday. The old F-9s are really

showing their lack of parts now. Hey, there are probably only 10 of them

in the world outside Beeville.

May 1967

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323

Damn regimental ALO [air liaison officer] jobs are in style again—

NA major with five months remaining 3d Marine Division—Dong Ha,

I think. Someone’s up for grabs. That five months remaining is the real

bridge over here. Usually that’s the basic requirement. After 1 July, the

pressures should ease off and by 1 August, it’ll stop.

. . .

Well, it’s time to get some sleep. I’ve been accused of letting my alarm

run as long as 20 minutes before I punch it.

There’s three-days mail stacked up at Da Nang. I wonder if our mail

has even gone out? It’ll all straighten out eventually, but the temporary

halts are bothersome.

Goodnight, Sweetheart. Do you love me? Must be awful hard up!

See you later, Honey,

Ray

K . L

Monday

29 May 1967

Hi Dearest,

Here goes a fountain pen letter—Karen’s fountain pen. I haven’t used one

in years, and it makes me feel pretentious. My ball point seems to have

disappeared though.

A wonderful Monday. Two letters from you. I practically hated to

open them, because it sometimes is a long wait until the next one. But I

shouldn’t complain. How awful a whole week would be without one, like

the week you had. What a shame. And the Houston trip really wasn’t

worth it. Never again! Without you that is.

My poor little lambs were tardy today. One hour late to school on the

last full day of school. Robin sets the clock and gets everyone up. Kathy

and I get up after they leave (on account of my late hours writing you!).

But I got up promptly as they left and thought I was crazy when the clock

said 0900. They thought they were crazy when they asked why there were

late. Robin got called “little dickens” in mock scolding because she wasn’t

tardy all year until today. A darn good record for kids who get up and go

to school without their mother.

. . .

Your letters were especially good today. The kids do appreciate when

Chapter Eight

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324

you talk to them, though Kirk was ashamed of his letter to you and got

so mad at me for sending it he almost wouldn’t listen. But I told him I’d

told you that he asked me not to send it crumpled up, but that I knew

you’d like it anyway. He was mollified enough then to listen, but you

didn’t understand that he built a model wooden car. He’s sensitive about

the soap box kind because he thinks he ought to know how to do that

alone because you did! He really wanted to attempt that alone (with a little

cheating help from Mom to get boxes etc.) and we did attempt one that

was such a fiasco he hasn’t gotten over it yet. It fell apart! Well, anyway he

was delighted that you shared his leap over the bushes with a pseudohead-

ache. That got a grin and a chortle.

So sorry to hear you don’t care for J. William Fulbright. Intellectual-

ly, I’m crazy about him! I’m sure he’s talking to the likes of me and not

the Viet Cong! He’s just against war, that’s all. And we’re all against that.

He’s trying to soften the Viet Cong up, not you all! I’m sorry to hear it

backfired like that. I understand he put out an apology that said he was

for the war, not against it, only against wars in general. They’re supposed

to understand that!? I did when I thought about it twice while reading

Time magazine!

The poor old Viet Cong just aren’t up on intellectual

mumble-type, American style. Now, don’t you go getting narrow minded

just because you’re dealing with g——s. There’s supposed to be an inch or

two of you tucked away that’s intellectual. He is the chairman of foreign

relations and that is supposed to be the art of getting along with folks. So,

okay, it’s your business to not like them, but eventually somebody’s got

to deal with them someday on another level than killing them. Hopefully!

Well, it’s not very good taste of me to discuss a man you don’t like. If

you don’t like him, that’s okay with me. . . . A jerk is a jerk to you. Heaven

help the poor jerk.

Hey, you’ve got a jerk for a wife. It’s true. But she’s such a good, noble,

humble, brave jerk! You’ve got your dragon lady and I’ve got my Fulbright.

I wonder which one is worse. You watch her good now, you hear! A place

that has female garbage collector’s—now that’s some place! . . .

Yes, I feel very well loved. Surprisingly well loved considering you get

an A in wife happiness! The only thing that would make me really happy

would be for you to love Fulbright like I do. No? Well, I guess I can’t have

Gig might be referring to Time Magazine 85, no. 4, 22 January 1965, that featured Ful-

bright on the cover.

May 1967

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325

everything. I have to settle for a husband with a STEEL-TRAP mind. I’ll

pry it open when you get home. I’ve got my WAYS.

XXXs and such,

Gig

K . L

Monday night

29 May 1967

Hi Honey,

Still got some? Where? Well, save it for me. I’ll need it!

Yesterday, I finally got airborne again. I went up north, found the

tanker, just plugged in, and he started to drop down below some clouds. A

little sine wave started down the refueling hose and, by the time it zapped

back at me, it was five-feet tall and snapped the nose refueling probe clear

off! Six feet of my nose probe broken off. Damn. First time I ever hurt an

airplane nose more than a blown tire since I started flying. I don’t think

his take-up reel was working properly, but I’d never be able to prove that.

One minute, they’re okay, the next they’re no good. Anyway, he took my

nose probe home to Da Nang with him; it was still stuck in his drogue!

Broke off so clean, the F-9 almost looked natural. We robbed old number

three’s probe and stuck it on last night so the aircraft’s up again today. I

flew it just a few minutes ago and it works. I noticed a slight sigh of relief

from the line crew as we taxied in the rain today. Wonder why? Trials and

tribulations—today, no approach radar. I had to use ground-controlled

interception (GCI) and then the ground-controlled approach (GCA) blew

a fuse on final, so I had to use the tactical air navigation system (TACAN)

and eyeballs. Good day for ducks, that’s why I’m waddling around going

quack, quack, quack.

I guess the NA major five months remaining regimental air officer

has been selected and no one knows who. Mighty secretive. Colonel Palm-

er says for me not to sweat it as I “already had it.” Camp Lejeune, North

Carolina, remember?

So, you finally have a dry boat and Don’s company went bankrupt?

You have your problems too I see. My bank balance? Are you out of your

gourd? My balance is between Uncle Sam and me! You have $1,515; I have

some too and that’s good! Day camp for kids at $399 is too much. All

day and all month, maybe. Colorado? Who says Colorado? You’ve done

Chapter Eight

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326

flipped your girdle! As a matter of fact, that’s probably what happened.

You probably wore a girdle up to Houston and everything’s been wrong

since then.

. . . Sorry, Honey, the sandman just clobbered my eyes and ran my

clock up to 1030. I’d hate to think I may have the early, early. Well, the

damn schedule just came in and I do!

Goodnight, Baby.

Sleep now!

Ray

K . L

Wednesday

31 May 1967

Darling Sweet,

. . . Oh man, I would like to talk to you tonight. The world is too much for

me, as the man said.

Up to here, I do just fine as long as nobody rocks

the boat. Somebody rocked the boat. Kirk was “retained” in the second

grade. However, I remembered the teacher saying they might retest him

in the fall and then have a conference to decide this for sure or maybe to

pass on information to another teacher. But for the moment, the crisis

was here today, tears, etc. as both sisters passed into fifth and sixth grades,

respectively. We all held no celebration because we all suffered briefly

with him together. . . .

I felt very much like spanking him (and did) for no reason other than

my own disappointment too, but then I realized how silly that was, and

he’s done darn well considering his lousy first grade.

. . .

Goodness, how I go on. But they change so fast that I hate for you to

miss any of it.

I got a permanent today. And it’s hot and humid and I smell like a

permanent even at 2330! Me and my lousy hair.

The term flip your girdle dates to women wearing foundational undergarments so tight

that the bottom edge would flip up. In this usage, it refers to someone losing their mind.

Similar terms can be seen in popular culture; for example, to flip (one’s) lid “lose one’s

head, go wild” from 1949 or the variant flip (one’s) wig in 1952.

Gig may be making a reference to William Wordsworth, “The World Is Too Much with

Us,” in Poems, 2 vols. (London: Longman, Hurst, Rees, and Orme, 1807).

May 1967

———

327

Now to you for a moment. You’re too big a subject to mention most

of the time! Look what happened to Fulbright! Forgive that teasing. I un-

derstand leaflets were dropped today from him and the 16 others anyway.

Shows maybe he had a guilty conscience after all!

I’ve spent most of tonight reading another Vietnam report in Life

magazine.

Honestly, I’m so well informed and nobody asks me a thing!

But seriously, the more I read, the more I wish I could be there like those

nurses helping out. So many are being so brave. And still there are stupid

ones here who wonder if they should “call it a war.” . . .

I’ve even reached the point of saturation on the subject as if I’d been

there myself, and when a Marine was asked on TV why he worked so hard

to save a dying or obviously dead buddy, and he choked out about three

words with a look like “you asshole,” I practically cheered! I really can’t

blame the reporters for playing dumb though, as that’s the only way usual-

ly to get someone to talk. Overall, they do a great job of reporting, and I’ve

got a marvelous overall picture.

Enough so that when I seriously picture

myself over there, I know I’d get shot at, no matter how sweet I looked. At

least you can blend in with the foliage! And you be sure you do!

Oh, I know you’re not jungle fighting. That’s just a manner of speech.

My way of trying to stay light on a subject that scares me to pieces. I will

say this much, I let myself get frightened—scared—once and decided then

never to let myself again. It was a good but horrible experience. Good

because it taught me how not to be scared. Rather like you chucking in

your first airplane ride! I guess I qualify as a combat wife now. Hmm. That

sounds fierce, doesn’t it? Grr.

Just hand me my Green Beret. The one with pink tassels. Someday,

the Marine Corps will issue us one! I think that’s the best idea I’ve had all

day. Just call us Batwives or Comwifs, like come wif me, Baby. . . . Better

quit there. . . .

Back to reality. The bank balance is $1,174. Tomorrow, I add $363.

Total $1,537. And then I go shopping for shoes and food. Kathy’s tonsilli-

tis cost $14! Tomorrow is 1 June, no, today is 1 June. It’s 0030.

J. William Fulbright, “The Price of Empire” (statement, American Bar Association,

Honolulu, HI, 8 August 1967).

Colin Leinster, “The Two Wars of General Lew Walt,” Life, 26 May 1967.

Kyle Hadyniak, “How Journalism Influenced American Public Opinion During the

Vietnam War: A Case Study of the Battle of Ap Bac, the Gulf of Tonkin Incident, the Tet

Offensive, and the My Lai Massacre,” Honors College 222 (Spring 2015).

Chapter Eight

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328

XXXs and such, and I do love you. Yup!

Gig

K . L

Wednesday night

31 May 1967

Hi Baby,

Well, I feel a little better (in reverse that is). Lieutenant Colonel James E.

“Jim” Miller [H&MS-13] just rebroke the probe off the old number one

again. That’s three in a row, and we will have to rob number two’s to fix it,

so I guess our arty spot days are limited to one more nose probe!

For months, I’ve been thinking that disbursing was short-sheeting me

$40 every payday. Come to find out, one of their idiots had misinformed

me back in December. I thought my separation allowance was $145 and

it is only $30.

I had lost or misplaced the W-2 forms also, so I couldn’t

figure out our income tax. They’re making a new copy tomorrow. I’d sure

like to get that out of the way before I come home. They are only giving

20 days of leave now (plus travel and 4 days proceed time), so our leave

won’t be quite as long.

I’m not sure what the problem is, but we’re just not getting any people

in—all outbound.

. . .

No mail for three or four days now. It’s receiving the command’s at-

tention it should have long ago. Stuff just sits up at Da Nang.

I take it all back. The mail clerk just brought your two latest letters

and a very small box from Mom! Four days of mail had been tied up.

. . .

You know it sure is hard to tell what’s incoming and what’s outgoing

around here. If the first noise is loud and the second noise is quiet, it’s

outgoing. So, when you hear a boom, boom and his shooting point [is]

so far away you don’t hear the hits, it could be incoming like they do up

north. All of ours and Da Nang’s is as fast as they can shoot.

These pages are too BIG! I get sleepy back here! Why don’t you hop

See Public Law 90-207, “Monthly Basic Pay and Allowances,” DFAS.mil, 1 October

1967, 2.

May 1967

———

329

in my hot—it’s still about 90 degrees and the sun’s been down for several

hours—little bed and I’ll tell you all about it.

My roommate just came back from Hawaii R&R. They took their

four-year-old boy and I think that’s a little young to watch all that!

. . .

Wow, it’s late yet.

Goodnight, Darling, I love you all to pieces!

See you later, Honey,

Ray

Figure 37. Maj Ray Stice outside his hooch, Chu Lai

Source: Stice family collection.

———

330

JUNE 1967

Friday

2 June 1967

Good morning Sweetheart!

Would you believe I have a quiet, bird singing, cool moment to myself? I

can hardly believe it. The kids have gone up the street to play. All of them.

How’s it going? Well, up until this minute, it’s been bedlam. I’ve tried

not to admit it was bedlam, but it has been. The temperature has gone

from 70 to 90 degrees, which has meant a lot of opening or shutting up.

Yesterday, we stayed closed until nighttime and the kids made a fort in the

living room out of pillows, tables, etc. I won’t begin to describe what it’s

been like with them all home, but it isn’t easy, and I am gripping my sanity

and hoping things will get better.

We’ve plotted a chart of activities for them to go to and that will help

some. Now, to be specific for a minute. I have $1,495 left now with all bills

paid except the $22 electricity one that just came in—that will probably

go to $40 or $50 in midsummer with the air conditioner on—$35 for the

diamond, and the new pump for the washing machine, which I haven’t

ordered but should. Costs about $27. It doesn’t drain. I wring things at

the moment by hand.

Anyway, the point is, I think now is the time for you to send the mon-

ey for camp. Two weeks at Crenshaw costs $45 for the first child and $40

June 1967

———

331

each additional child.

That’s $80 + $45 = $125. We think two weeks to

start and then maybe two more weeks later if they like it. Of course, I can

do it now, but it would throw me off balance, and I’d hate to get too low

and then get desperate. Wakari maska [understand]?

So, okay, papasan. Can you swing camp? Please say yes soon, as I have

to enroll them.

I cut the girls hair yesterday. In a Twiggy haircut up over their ears.

It’s a bit severe, but we’ll have it grown out by the time you get home and

will be okay for swimming.

I’ve heard reports that Quang Ngai Province is a big Viet Cong strong-

hold, and they just uncovered some of it.

Not the most settling news in

the world to hear!

Oh no, all are coming home. Peace . . . it was lovely! I must close. En-

joy your peace while you’re over there, Dear. It really has some advantages!

I love you, Dearest,

Gig

P.S. I’ve had some awfully lovely dreams of you lately. They all make me

smile.

K . L

Friday afternoon

2 June 1967

Hi Baby,

It’s been a rugged morning so far. No warning on the early, early, so I got

slightly stinky last night. I was home around 2100 and to bed (early fortu-

nately) and had to get up twice with the runs.

The whole darn group has

them now, and damned if I didn’t get awakened at 0400 for the stupid

Crenshaw Athletic Club in Austin was founded as one of the first private gymnasium

studios in the United States in 1949

Twiggy, or Lesley Hornby, was a British fashion model whose thin frame and mod look,

including very short hair, drove the fashion and beauty industry for much of the 1960s

and 70s.

An account of the treatment of civilians in this area by the Viet Cong regime was later

published in Fox Butterfield, “Life under Vietcong: A Portrait by Refugees,” New York

Times, 11 April 1975.

Research on wartime health maladies shows that medical support for diarrhea and its

side effects outnumbered that for malaria in Vietnam four to one. Mary Roach, “Diarrhea

Is the Wartime Enemy No One Mentions,” Cut, 9 June 2016.

Chapter Nine

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332

early, early. Ugh! So, okay, you know—God and country and all that good

stuff. I leaped into the black, shot the artillery, though with their disper-

sion you’d think they were hungover. I’m glad we stayed outside their

firing area, although some idiot jerk in Da Nang F-9-jockeyed through

the same area about six times. He acted like he wanted to get hit. You just

don’t get low and slow into a live firing area in North Vietnam or North

Carolina.

I finally got back, debriefed, and back to work and who descends

from the north but the dragon lady bearing gifts for the commanding

officer, me, and Major John T. Radich [base services officer]. Mine was

a beautiful black lacquered platter in a stand covered with mother of

pearl from a rural scene of Vietnam—really choice. WE all lowed as how

our wives would “appreciate” the thoughtfulness (No?) and thanked her.

Then, to top it off, some Army major commandeered the car we had

waiting to show them where they would be picking up their trash and

we had no wheels! After an awkward wait, we ended up with two cars

and two jeeps!

Your mother gets an enlargement of that beautiful hairdo for me and

you keep it?! BS—I want it. You don’t want me to start looking at Playgirls

from the bunny book, do you?

. . .

Sounds like everyone got a star but YOU! Karen, Robin, and proba-

bly Kirk plus Kathy’s stolen one from Robin—so enclosed please find one

Bronze Star for Mom for her attention to duty, loyalty beyond reproach,

and fantastic ability to be a (ugh) mother, something I could never do!

Okay? Feel better, huh?

I’m still amazed to see you sweating at $1,500! And you never have

answered me as to whether your bank balance has only gone down $200

each month. Has it?

Well, in any case Sweet San, all of a sudden, it’s almost 2230 at night,

and time for you know what—yup, even that—like saying goodnight, Dar-

ling, and mailing this letter!

Love you, Gig,

Ray

K . L

June 1967

———

333

Sunday night

4 June 1967

Dearest,

It’s 1100 and I’m back from a 1500 to 2200 Sunday outing at the lake on

Bill’s houseboat. . . . It is all meant to be very relaxing but somehow, we

all work very hard, and of course old Kathy stays plastered on/and to/me

most of the time. She’s still pretty screechy about the whole bit.

. . .

Yesterday was a full day too. I let Karen and Robin go with girlfriends

to Enfield Road pool, which they said was full of colored people! And

they were shocked when they saw a bunch of teenagers shave a guy’s head

in some kind of gang jump on. I guess I won’t let them go there anymore.

. . .

Well, to add to my bed woes, your letter came, with only the loss of a

nose probe and an eyeball landing in duck weather. Only. But that sound-

ed fairly minor. I do share your distress over parts for the F-9 and know

that only you could make do so splendidly. It’s a shame it has to be such a

daily struggle though. That’s like fighting a battle with one hand practical-

ly. I know those crews must do a splendid job. Thank God, you’re practi-

cally an expert. But continue to be very careful, as I can tell you are being.

I’m sorry your first reaction to camp for the kids was negative. I was

very let down by it. Perhaps you were trying to tell me to be cautious and

not overspend, but really Dear, I am cautious. Please try to reconsider

camp. The children would gain a lot even from two weeks.

Monday morning . . . the news is all black on the radio this morning.

Robin woke me up because the UN Security Council was on all over the

TV stations. They are fighting it seems and both sides said the other start-

ed it. There’s even been some fighting in Jerusalem and the Pope is up in

arms. Or is it alarms?

It looks like the Israelis are outnumbered by the Egyptians, Arabs, Jor-

danians, and Iraqis. Doesn’t seem like a fair fight at all. Big mess. We’re

thinking of putting a second war map up in the kitchen. I can’t imagine

Gig is referring to the Six-Day War and the UN Security Council’s efforts to push through

UNSC Resolution 242 regarding actions in the Middle East. UNSCR 242 was eventually

passed on 22 November 1967. See also Rory Miller, “Frank Aiken, the UN and the Six Day

War, June 1967,” Irish Studies in International Affairs 14 (2003): 57–73.

Chapter Nine

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334

what’s the matter with people. People are the matter, that’s what’s the

matter!

Must close now or I’ll miss the mailman, and Mom just walked in.

More later.

Much love, etc.

Gig

K . L

Sunday night

4 June 1967

Hi Honey,

This will be short I’m afraid. I’m behind the time ball tonight. Now how

noble are you? Didn’t even wince? You’ve been so great about writing that

I hate to short-sheet you.

. . .

Damn, if I can’t write, I’d better do something I can do—SLEEP.

I got my 100th combat mission Friday, and today when the tanker

didn’t show up, I could have cared less. The guy in the front seat needed

some practice landings anyway, so we came home and bounced. When a

tanker doesn’t show, you only have 15–20 minutes of fuel up where we’ve

been working past the DMZ the last several months. So, you don’t have

much time to find each other and get refueled. I’ve only had one of them

find me one time yet. I’ve always found them first. Usually, they’re way

out over the South China Sea somewhere away from everything. They’re

never in the same place twice.

The wing has decided that both probes we broke were due to the bas-

ket and hose take-up reel failing to wind up when you first plug in. They

say that’s what caused the hose to transmit your plug-in forces back into

the nose probes (only vertically) and broke them off. Well, anyway it’s still

a tricky and delicate maneuver whatever the problem, and yet you have to

do it rapidly or you don’t get the fuel you need to start with. Besides that,

I still need a shower and sleep, sleep, sleep.

Goodnight, Darling.

I sure do love you,

Ray

K . L

June 1967

———

335

Monday

5 June 1967

Darling,

We missed you tonight while stargazing. It’s that time of year again. Only

we have a little more privacy here than down in Beeville, Texas. But we all

decided the sunrises were better down there. And we missed you as our

star reporter. All we can do is count and figure the red star must be Mars

and sing Jingle Bells to the sound of katydids. The kids love to talk about

the past. So much happened to them so fast.

Your letter made me feel better toward you today. I’ve been very snap-

pish lately. . . . But a peek at the calendar made me feel better about

myself. Still, today, I could barely stand Mother. I try so hard to keep her

happy, and she me, but sometimes her gaiety bores me, and her enthusi-

asm! . . .

I used the flat tire on the boat as an excuse for not selling it. Maybe

the truth is, it reminds me of you, but she doesn’t know that, and she says

call the filling station or shut up! Words to that effect.

. . .

I have been torn asunder by the three older ones fighting, and it’s

been hard on us all, living together all day again. They just all want my

attention or my judgment in their favor, or my help, and I am fighting all

the while to maintain my life and right to listen to the news or time to do

something besides think of them.

. . .

Being in the Marine Corps is quite impossible, being in a war is quite

impossible, being parents to four kids is quite impossible, and being sep-

arated is quite impossible. But somehow, we seem to be living an impos-

sible life! Possibly!

The only thing that really kind of amazes me is that we have so little

time alone together to show for the 12 years of marriage. How is that

possible? I find myself going back to past wedding days as our alone time,

other than Hawaii!

And yet, I’ve had times when I ached to be doing something with you

and friends. It’s all so weird.

We are “alone” in these letters as much as we almost ever have been

together. And now I know what you think about mostly when you’re

Chapter Nine

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336

alone! Only really, Dear, I ought to be good for something besides that

after all these years.

Well, one thing I know I’m good for is you like my letters, even if

they’re bitchy or crazy. Otherwise, you wouldn’t mind it when the mail

gets stuck at Da Nang. I’m always sort of relieved when I hear you got one

on a day when you’d been waiting awhile. What a disappointment not

to get one after a wait. I know. The feeling’s mutual. They do help. So,

don’t make me mad. I get silent when I’m mad and then you miss a letter

because I’m trying not to upset you!

. . .

I’ve got a new way of going to sleep now. I take an aspirin for my aches

and pains, then I think of saline solution. That’s what washes away the

dark circles under our eyes. Not enough saline solution at night makes for

circles! So now I turn over my beauty and my problems to saline solution,

manufactured by the body, of course. That’s what the article on sleep said.

Good sleeping, Love, and lots of saline solution to you!

XXXs,

Gig

K . L

Tuesday night

6 June 1967

Hi Darling,

I was sorry to hear about Kirk’s problem in school. That’s pretty darn

hard to take. I had to take my first year of college at Annapolis, Mary-

land, all over again so I know what that is like. I know Kirk will find it

hard to believe, but I was a lot better student after that. I’d do whatever

the teachers say, Kirk, they do know what’s the best thing for you. Why

don’t you write me a letter and tell me about it? And your model car—I’d

like to hear how that turned out too. As far as a soapbox racer, you’ll

have to wait for me to come home and help you quite a bit. I needed a

lot of help, and I was several years older. That’s something we can do

together.

The skipper is sending me to Okinawa tonight or tomorrow for about

a week. We need some high-powered scrounging in a dozen different ar-

eas. So, I have my green [money], pills, bottles, and orders and 50,000

different items from trucks and transformers to tubes and wire from brake

June 1967

———

337

cylinders to steel cots. All scrounge—no money. If I can find one-tenth of

the things, I’ll be happy.

This snapshot was taken a few days ago by Captain Walter T. “Walt”

Zinowski our communications officer. You met with his wife at the of-

ficers’ beach at Fort DeRussy, Hawaii. It’s really quite cool with drywall

plaster board halfway up the walls and open pine slotted strips the up-

per half. The ceiling is insulated with white foam squares from rocket

fuse boxes. All the exposed wood has been seared with a blow torch, and

then with a fan (see the chord) blowing from behind it’s not that bad. Of

course, the runway is right outside, and we’re all going deaf, but it’s the

coolest non-air-conditioned place I’ve seen yet out here. Relatively speak-

ing purely at 120 degrees outside and 100 degrees inside. I think he said,

“This is for your wife.” Hence, the stupid look—you, alas, did stupefy me.

And of course, my hanging rope for the malcontents and my pistol for

Charlie.

After eight months of looking at our sign outside, it finally dawned

on me what is wrong. It says: MAJ RAY B (EX) OFFICER; for Colonel

Owens, it read: COMMINING OFFICER. They do remind us on occa-

sion that they are combat engineers not artists.

Wow, it’s getting late I’d better finish packing in case we get an Oki-

nawa flight out at midnight and take a shower in case there isn’t one till

tomorrow. Hell, I’ll have to buy some stamps to write you from Okinawa

just like a common citizen!

So, goodnight, Sweet Gal. By the time you get this, I’ll be back here.

Don’t try to write me in Okinawa per se.

I love you, Honey,

Ray

K . L

Thursday afternoon

8 June 1967

Darling,

I feel so utterly ugly for the letter I wrote you this morning. Please forgive

me. I really . . . feel more tired and tense than usual.

I just let myself get in a state over nothing. And you’re right, it is

nothing.

Here you are just being sweet as pie, giving me your Bronze Star as

Chapter Nine

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338

your way of saying “Thank you for being a good wife,” and there I am be-

ing just the opposite of what you thought I was! Am-was-is. Isn’t so good,

whatever I is/was!

. . . I only have a minute now as I am fixing dinner before going to

the movies with Don, Mom, and Karen Kirkpatrick. She arrived this af-

ternoon with her folks back okay from Thailand. Mrs. Tellepson went to

the beauty shop during the Hong Kong riots!

Oh Darling, do have a happy anniversary. I’m so sorry I had to cry a

bit before really meaning it. Just like on my wedding day! I guess you do

things to me!

Oh damn, I’ve got a new decision coming up. Seems like there’s al-

ways one every day. The rumor is the Austin’s want to take Karen and

Robin back with them for a visit to Houston. This is the first time my

babies have an invite to go out of town and I don’t know what I’ll say. I

guess I’ll sleep on it. . . .

War news is better. The Arabs say they’ll quit. The Israeli’s bombed

one of our ships by mistake.

I guess you know about that. I’ve been so

worried about all that. I don’t want anything to spoil our next year togeth-

er! Nice and selfish, aren’t I?

Must close now. Do you forgive me? Just this once? Especially if I say

I love you and want 12 years more? Or more? Much more!

Gig

K . L

Thursday

8 June 1967

Darling,

It’s sort of like a complete madhouse around here. . . .

. . . . I stayed up until midnight writing you a seven-page letter that I

tore up. The gist of that letter had to do with money, and I decided I’m

tired of talking about it. If you haven’t gotten my message by now, I give up.

I’ve told the kids NO CAMP, and the subject is closed.

Gig is referring to an incident in early June 1967 when Israeli Air Force fighter air-

craft and navy torpedo boats launched an attack on the USS Liberty (AGTR 5), killing or

wounding more than 200 on board. See William D. Gerhard and Henry W. Millington,

United States Cryptologic History: Special Series Crisis Collection, vol. 1, Attack on a Sigint Collec-

tor the U.S.S. Liberty (Washington, DC: National Security Agency, 1981).

June 1967

———

339

I don’t know if my bank balance is going down more than $200 a

month, but I assume it is. It sure isn’t getting any bigger that’s for sure!

I’ve got to close now.

Happy anniversary!

Gig

P.S. If you think there are some pages missing. There are.

K . L

Thursday night

8 June 1967

Hi Honey,

It’s been a crazy day! Missed an early, early direct flight yesterday morning,

despite the fact that several people had my phone number. Finally, at

noontime, my old skipper Lieutenant Colonel Owen L. Owens lands—on

a Lockheed C-130 Hercules transport—and I told him my problem. He

said I could ride up to Da Nang with him, although there wouldn’t be

any passengers because of the KIA cargo. At Da Nang, I borrowed their

phone and called the Air Force side and then their jeep hurriedly; they

had something going out if I could get right over. Of course, when I get

over there, there wasn’t any such animal. Finally, about 1800, I was ready

to go back to Chu Lai and catch one of Colonel Owens’ aircraft today

when the passenger clerk asked me if I wanted to go to Taiwan, China, be-

cause there just wasn’t anything else. Well, you know me, a bird in hand is

worth two in the bush, and it’s in the right direction (plus I’d never been

to Taiwan).

I landed at Ping Kahn Pek Tu something or other Air Force

Base in Taiwan about midnight last night.

I went to their club for some

refreshments and, about 0130 or 0200, we left again for Nobu, Japan, got

a bus to Futenma, checked in to lousy wet old bachelor officer quarters

(BOQ), checked out, and came over here to Kadena by cab just as the

sun came up this morning. Took a shower and got a shave and then went

shopping at the PX (down to four undershorts for some reason, probably

This proverb originates in medieval falconry, where a bird (falcon) in hand was more

valuable than two in the bush (the prey). The earliest known usage in English comes from

a fifteenth century work by John Capgrave, The Life of St. Katherine of Alexandria, which was

reprinted by the Early English Text Society of London in 1893.

Stice is referring to Ching Chuan Kang Air Base, Taiwan. See Seth Robson, “Taiwan Pre-

serves Legacy of U.S. Air Force Operations on the Island,” Stars and Stripes, 3 March 2023.

Chapter Nine

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340

the civilian laundry at Chu Lai). I found the air station cafeteria and had a

big pork chow mien dinner with iced tea, apple pie ala mode, and coffee.

On the way back, I saw the movie had started and caught Jane Fonda and

someone in Any Wednesday, munching on popcorn.

Fortunately, my stomach seems better today. Tuesday afternoon the

flight surgeon made me drink a whole bottle of Paregoric right there at

sick bay—whew—and pills to keep things going right.

So far so good. And

the niesen just brought back my first load of clothes.

Tomorrow, I’ll start scrounging. Sure was a job getting here from Chu

Lai this time. Before Christmas, I caught a plane direct.

. . .

It’s cool, windy, with light rain, and must be close to 1,600 kilometers

farther north than the Republic of North Vietnam (RNV) and so quiet

my ears almost ring.

Don’t get upset if I get wrapped up here and miss a letter. I’m not sure

how this is going to turn out.

Goodnight, Darling, I love you and miss you like hell!

Ray

K . L

Friday night

9 June 1967

Hello Dear,

I feel like I should throw my hat in first. I’m not sure whether you are

speaking to me after my brickbat letter.

Well, I’m out of the woods at last . . . after one of the most intense

weeks I’ve had since you left! I’m feeling perfectly fine tonight and awfully

ashamed of my abnormal behavior. The kids were magnificent through it

Any Wednesday, directed by Robert Ellis McGinnis, starring Jane Fonda and Jason Ro-

bards (Burbank, CA: Warner Brothers, 1966

Paregoric was a common household treatment for diarrhea and upset stomach, though

by 1914 it would later be classified as an exempt narcotic due to the inclusion of opium

as an ingredient.

A direct translation for the term niesen is not available; though given the content, Stice

is likely referring to the laundry delivery service.

The term brickbat, ca. 1640, refers literally to a weapon but figuratively to negative com-

ments or insults.

June 1967

———

341

all. I was taking potshots at everyone and couldn’t stop myself. A couple

of ghastly sleepless nights added to my physical problems. . . .

. . .

Tonight, the gang all went for a Mexican dinner and a quick trip to

Zilker Park in the cool summer evening. Kathy was enchanted and ran all

over the place. She can run without falling now and is so proud of her

new ability. . . .

Kirk, too, seems to have new feelings about you. We barely got the

Father’s Day messages off to you because he wasn’t satisfied with his. We

had to squeeze his spaceship and he didn’t like that one bit! Finally, he

wrote you a message—I didn’t see what—and that satisfied him. Whew!

. . .

It’s been a week and a half of world crisis. Only a week, but it feels

like the other. All day National Security Council sessions on TV, which

drives the kids wild, and I’ve had radio and TV going at the same time,

but still have missed a lot because of the kids’ noise.

Gamal Abdel Nass-

er resigned today but by tonight has gone back.

The Israelis have won

the war, the Arabs quit, then the Jews attacked after the ceasefire, nobody

believes anybody, and the Russians have been their usual awful selves,

twisting everything. . . . The newspaper headline tonight was “Israel In-

vades Syria for ‘Violating’ the Cease Fire.”

. . .

I’m glad you got your 100th mission in despite the drogue probe,

wind-up, plug-in, take-up reel, etc.! That description you gave me was a

lulu. I don’t like to hear you say you’re over the DMZ at all, but then I’m

not too happy about where you are in general either!

My dad got the Bronze Star too. Now I have two reasons to make that

my favorite medal.

. . .

Jack Gould, “TV: Spotlight on Crisis; 3 Networks Cancel Shows to Cover the Security

Council Session on War,” New York Times, 7 June 1967.

On 9 June 1967, Nasser gave a speech to the Egyptian people, announcing his retire-

ment from the presidency but reassumed the office in the wake of mass demonstrations.

See “Egyptian President Gamal Abdel Nasser: Resignation Broadcast,” Center for Israel

Education, 9 June 1967.

Though the original reference is not available, headlines around the world on the date

focus on the attack on Golan Heights and Israel’s defeat of three Middle Eastern armies.

See Avner Cohen, The 1967 Six-Day War: New Israeli Perspectives, 50 Years Later (Washing-

ton, DC: Wilson Center, 2017).

Chapter Nine

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342

Say you’re not mad and all is okay. I don’t need any money, Honey.

Not at the price of a fight anyway. But if you want to continue same dis-

cussions on the matter, I’ll resume my efforts to keep you informed. The

countdown is $1,383 now and holding.

Hey, did that get a little laugh? Nothing like a wife trying to get her

husband to laugh about money. . . . Best solution, both laugh and start

all over again. Peace! Peace it is, and I win hands down. All’s fair in love

and money.

Goodnight, Love. It’s so nice to be in love again. Much easier. I’ll be

good. I promise. (Until next month.)

XXXs,

Gig

K . L

Saturday night

10 June 1967

Hi Baby,

I’m back over at Futenma now. Most of my work will have to originate

from here, so I just up and moved. Yesterday, I found six pickup trucks

in various stages of decay in the Kadena salvage yard. They set them aside

for me, and I arranged for trucks to take them down to the docks for

loading out to Chu Lai. Then I have about 15 million forms to fill out

at three different places. The damn pickups sure aren’t much to look at.

I just hope we can get three or four of them running. We sure couldn’t

have gotten along without the other scrounge trucks we have. One of the

hardest things is to get wheels for all the running around you have to do

here to accomplish anything. Things are really spread out and I don’t

know too much about this side of the island. We always landed at Noha,

North Korea, before.

I just read your last two letters. Ha! You think the Viet Cong aren’t up

on Fulbright? That shows how much you don’t know about them. They’re

as intellectual as hell and smart enough to use a stupid asshole like him

in their propaganda.

Sorry drum, but your viewpoint stinks and you’re

For more on this sentiment and how the hearings exposed the American public and the

world to the administration’s actions, see Lee Riley Powell, “Fulbright and Vietnam: The

Emergence of an Adversary Role” (thesis, University of Virginia, 1984).

June 1967

———

343

wrong as could be. He’s putting us one step back for every two steps for-

ward. They think we’re going to just walk out because of the peace march-

ers and idiots like him. Better not side up with him, I heard stories up on

the DMZ that would make you sick at what they’ve done in his words and

his name. Don’t even write to me about him. That’s really not very smart,

Gig. You know I hate his guts.

If it wasn’t for idiots like him and Robert S. McNamara, we wouldn’t

have to travel thousands of miles looking up someone else’s trash to fight

a goddamn tough war.

Just don’t ever mention his name to me again, I’m tired of throw-

ing up.

Goodnight,

Ray

K . L

Monday

12 June 1967

Darling,

So glad to hear you got to Okinawa (via Taiwan yet). I wasn’t expecting to

hear about it all until you got back, so imagine my surprise when a letter

came today, telling me you were there and soaking up the good life but

quick!

How funny that we saw the same movie Any Wednesday the same

month. We’re not so far off after all. I was practically eating out of your

popcorn bag when you described it.

Also, glad to hear you got a big swallow of Paregoric, so the runs

didn’t ruin your visit to outer space! You sounded in hog heaven just to

get away for a while, and I even breathed a sigh of relief with you. It made

my weekend. You really pleased me by writing me from there, when you

had such a good excuse not to!

I hope the trip is/or was fruitful too, and I’m sure it was, as anything

you scrounge up will probably look better than nothing. If they really

left it to you, you’d probably package the whole of Okinawa and drag it

McNamara was secretary of defense from 1961 to 1968, and he disagreed with how the

war was being waged. See David Rudenstine, The Day the Presses Stopped: A History of the

Pentagon Papers Case (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1996).

Chapter Nine

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344

back with you. I imagine someone will try to prevent that, however, and

wonder what sort of tiger they are tangling with. Ray Stice, original A-1

scrounger of the Marine Corps! I know!

Well, they are playing the song “Stranger in Paradise” on TV right

now.

Must be a little like what you felt that first night.

. . .

I’m tempted to start going to church. You should have heard the blast

some old Arab gave to the National Security Council last night. He was

a moralist and said please keep your miniskirts at home. We don’t want

them. Words to that effect. The strangest part was that he sounded like a

Jewish rabbi. It was the first non-Communist blast I’ve ever heard. Just a

guy saying he thought the world was in a pretty sorry mess because people

play games with semantics.

I’d describe it better, but Kirk is breathing down my neck wanting to

play with this machine. Natch.

. . .

He wants me to go buy him some sandals and so I must close. He is

not one to wait very patiently. “In a few minutes we are going to get Kirk

some sandals.” That’s what HE says.

Kirk says . . . Love, Kirk and Mom. You do, don’t you?

Gig

K . L

Tuesday

13 June 1967

Hello Dear Heart,

Boy, it looks like I said the wrong thing at the wrong time over Fulbright,

The song was originally from the 1953 musical Kismet and was made popular by Tony

Bennett, vocalist, “Stranger in Paradise,” by Alexander Borodin, Robert Wright, and

George Forrest, recorded 13 October 1953, Columbia Records.

Gig is referring to Jamil M. Baroody, a Saudi diplomat, who addressed the UN Security

Council on 11 June 1967 in the days following the Six-Day War. His comments focused

on the hypocrisy of Western powers and the attempt to push their morality on other

nations: “Every day legislators are criticizing us, calling us slave-traders. What about their

white slaves? What about their narcotics? What about their promiscuity? Let them have

their mini-skirts and hot dogs. We do not want that kind of civilization.” United Nations

Security Council, 22d Year, 1357th Meeting (speech, Baroody, UN Representative from

Saudi Arabia, New York, 11–12 June 1967), 13.

June 1967

———

345

and I’ve yet to get a blast back over money. I should feel bad, only I don’t.

I feel pretty good at the moment, in general, that is. Too good to blast

back a blast back, because I really think we get confused when there is

more than one blast back. Maybe you don’t, but I do. Besides which,

I surrender! Who wants to blast away at somebody who’s throwing up

anyway? What kind of intellectual discussion is that when somebody says

I disagree, and the other person throws up. I don’t throw up when you

disagree, do I? Barf—I mean arf.

. . .

Hey, it’s midnight. I’ve defrosted the icebox all damn day and feel ut-

terly de-iced. I got so worked up I had the kids cleaning out their drawers

too. It hit me that 20 days is 20 days and I’ve got to be ready to MOVE

OUT like a good Marine ON THE DOUBLE in November. We’re getting

an early start. Robin finally caught on and said, “For heaven’s sake, we’re

not moving out today!” Darn her anyway, and just when I had a good

steam up on them.

. . .

News. Kathy is talking—think thoughts talking. I mean she’s express-

ing herself and she’s delightful. The cutest female in the house at the mo-

ment, and I find her much company to me. To all of us. . . .

The new bed has given her a new grownup feeling, and she is turning

into a little girl right before my eyes.

As for your big girls, they have run into a new family—two girls ages

11 and 13 and are terribly impressed. They were “dared” to ring doorbells

and stand in the street—and on top of a car—but Robin felt guilty and told

all. That gave me a good chance to help overcome the guilt feelings with

her, point out that she was right to feel guilty about standing in the street,

and that the rest wasn’t too bad, but better they not try to keep up with

the 13-year-old.

However, the whole bit made me realize they are getting older, and

it’s the older kids who bring about the inevitable changes. This will be the

biggest change for you when you come back. . . .

Well, anyway, the summer will bring changes in them all, and though

they are the same in many ways, I can see the stirrings of new and different

things in them.

This is the age for girlfriends and giggling for Karen and Robin.

So! How I do go on. I just need you to talk to, but there seems to

be so much for us to talk about—the world, kids, money, jobs, war—that

Chapter Nine

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346

I wonder where we are in the whole picture. Haggling over Fulbright?

Incredible! Never happen, GI. Don’t discourage me. I have to be adult

about something once in a while. . . .

. . .

Goodnight, Love. Who do you love? I don’t believe you. But that’s

okay. I love you throw up and all! You can stop blasting though. I heard

you.

Gig

K . L

Thursday

13 June 1967

Darling,

What a way to start a day! I felt like you, getting—no leaping—off into

the dark on an early, early. Only mine wasn’t an early, early, it was a late,

late. I stayed up late and got up late to the sounds of Mother bringing

in the toy chest, which she antiqued for Kathy’s room. She also redid an

old picture frame and put the oil you made for Karen as a baby (clown

picture), and they were tiptoeing around putting it up. I got up, threw on

a winter bathrobe by mistake, looked at the room blearily, and started

for the kitchen to make coffee. Only Kirk had taken the coffee jar for an

experiment, but I was prepared for that emergency as I had bought a real

tin coffee pot for emergency real coffee drinkers and was rather pleased

to have an excuse to use it. I got the coffee on and started cooking some

sausage. The phone rang and it was a lady from school asking to have

Kirk tested for second grade ability next Wednesday as part of a university

survey. So, okay, yes, he can be in it. I try to explain this to Kirk and head

for coffee, saying goodbye to Mom, who is busy taking chairs to the car

to take to the Austin’s for the anniversary party tonight. I just poured the

coffee when the phone rings again. . . . I start talking (news of Hawaii,

etc.) and the doorbell rings. . . . “Sign here,” the postman says. I sign. It’s

your package. God almighty. All those good things at once. . . . Beautiful

pictures! I like them all and am wild about the beads and earrings. I will

wear the earrings tonight with the Hawaiian long muumuu to the party.

Coffee by this time is cold.

. . .

Then it’s lunchtime. I fix bean sandwiches, oranges, peanut butter,

June 1967

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347

and jelly. . . . Robin goes swimming.

Kirk and Karen are bouncing off

walls to do likewise. I dress the girls and drive Kirk and Karen and all to

the pool. I come home to put the little girls to bed! And in between, the

beds are made, dishes washed, and hair set.

It’s now 1530 and I have a quiet house and just finished a good cup of

coffee. . . . Now you can see why I stay up late and get up late. The pace

is either dreadfully fast or agonizingly slow here, just as it is for you there.

. . .

Oh yes, last night I watched an hour-long TV show put out by Annap-

olis of a little boy yearning to be a sailor. No words. Just a boy marching

and playing around the Naval Academy and the town.

Good PR but that

I had to watch. Brought back such good memories of us at Annapolis last

year and the years you were there that I still try to share vicariously.

I do miss sharing things with you, like mainly life, but mostly loving!

That sure is an empty bed in the morning. It will be so wonderful when

you are home. Well, no sense getting excited about that yet. But it will be

good to have you home.

These are my two best weeks in the year—anniversary and birthday—

and I thank you, Dearest, for my lovely gifts. My little toothbrush gift was

just a token. I can’t seem to get out to shop except for groceries and shoes,

so I’m glad you had the fun of shopping for real goodies. You did beauti-

fully! We’ll wait to frame and hang them together.

All for now, Darling. Big sigh. I do miss you. You know that, don’t

you? You are my life.

Many XXXs,

Gig

K . L

Wednesday night

14 June 1967

Hi Honey,

Getting older? Boy, I did get wrapped up like I was afraid I would. The

Recipes for baked bean sandwiches can be traced to ca. 1909 in a cookbook, Cooking for

Two, by Janet Mckenzie Hill as an option for meatless meals.

Though the reference is unclear, Gig may be talking about Men of Annapolis, with 41

episodes filmed from 1957 to 1958 and was the only television show to have been filmed

at the U.S. Naval Academy in Maryland.

Chapter Nine

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348

only way you’d know I was still thinking about you was when I final-

ly found: 1. your wedding anniversary present; 2. your birthday present;

plus, 3. some other goodies I wish you would save till I get home and

don’t give them away. There’s no card. You can guess which one is which,

no doubt. Everything is “real” as far as I can determine, so don’t sell them

short. I hope you get them either 18 or 19 June. I sent the box air mail on

13 June. Why don’t you wait until 22 June and open it up?

Gee, you’re sure getting OLD Mrs. Sticestone. I’m glad I don’t have

birthdays as fast as you!

Anyway, you sweet thing, I love you ANYWAY! Even if you were stu-

pid enough to marry me! Damn, do you always have to have two such

critical anniversaries the same time? It sure puts certain husbands in a

bind at times! Anyhoo, I’m back at cheerless Chu Lai—the vacation land

of the South China Sea—wishing you the most energetic well wishes and

many more of them both as you can in a stupid letter!

And I know it would be appropriate to apologize for the last letter.

Neither one of us should write when we’re mad, because it takes so

damn long to straighten it out. So, I hereby will make an honest attempt

not to write when I’m mad at you and that won’t amount to a hill

of beans, though only one time in eight-and-a-half months. Really not

that bad.

Hell yes, send the kids to two weeks camping. I’ll send you a postal

money order in the next letter for $125. The post office is closed tonight.

That should be really good for them—and you in the daytime—and I know

they will enjoy it.

. . .

Well, back to the salt mill. I only got two hours sleep last night trying

to get back here, and I have to get up at 0400 for the early, early tomor-

row. Yeah, happy anniversary to you too! We both sure do have problems,

Honey, and I really am sorry I added to yours with that last letter—no

more.

Hang on, Baby, the finish is bound to be better than the start!

I love you, even if you are a year more elderly!

Love,

Ray

K . L

June 1967

———

349

Thursday night

15 June 1967

Hi Darling,

Today’s letter showed how much you can forgive when you apologized

about the day before’s letter. I wish I’d done the same thing at Okinawa.

You’re going to be mad for a long time on that letter. Maybe you will get

the package and know I still wasn’t mad, just that one time. Going back

over the calendar, it looks like you had a bad empty week before our an-

niversary. I really am sorry, Honey. I’m not a mean person usually. Maybe

you got the box early enough to understand that I do love you, and I want

you 100 more years! I hope you had some semblance of a happy anniver-

sary, and I know you’ll have a happy birthday. There’s still time for that!

Goodnight, Sweetheart,

Ray

P.S. I have the cash, but the post office was closed today for an audit. I’ll

get the money order tomorrow for sure.

K . L

Friday

16 June 1967

Darling,

Well, all the flurry of the 46th anniversary party is over. . . .

I couldn’t go to sleep for several hours later and finally took an aspi-

rin and dropped off. You know me and my overpepped-up state. I need

the warmth of you to relax, and so without you, I just toss and turn and

decide parties aren’t worth it without you to come with or to!

Must close now and go get the kids at the swimming pool. More later.

I love you!

Gig

K . L

Saturday night

17 June 1967

Hi Honey,

It’s been a week now since I wrote that stupid letter in Okinawa. I just

Chapter Nine

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350

hope you get the package fast, so you know I really wasn’t mad—maybe

stupid, but not mad.

Do you feel OLDER yet? Getting a few gray hairs? Little flabby? Pooch-

ing more? Hmm? Can’t see so close-up? Feel tuckered out sooner? Hmm? . . .

Tomorrow is our wedding anniversary. How about that? Twelve lousy,

wonderful years to the same old slob, warm, sweaty, sweet, Wif! Whew!

How’s them one-upmanship brinkmanship apples?

Newspapers? Lord, don’t send me any papers please. We get enough

here, and I never met Emma Long anyway. We have a real live Filipino

floor show tonight—three males and one female—and so far, we can’t tell

which is which. They all have the same hair and the same clothes. Maybe

one of them will put on some lipstick and go to the ladies’ head so we tell

which one to whistle at.

My real problem is that I haven’t flown in two weeks—that’s the trou-

ble. Plus, our officer strength is getting so low I don’t know who to put

where.

And the ones we are getting are the wrong kind! Plus, last night,

we had a going away party for Major James F. “Jim” Newell, our utilities of-

ficer who built three quarters of this containment. It did get a little drunk

out. He topped it off with a champagne breakfast, and he’ll be in Okinawa

by now. He had been with MABS before Colonel Owens took the squad-

ron in Japan while we were at Officer Candidates School in Quantico. . . .

I got my Silver Star in lieu of my sixth Air Medal today. Now, these

silver and bronze stars are not a real Silver Star or Bronze Star Medal like

our dads had. These just signify an additional award. You got confused I

think. I’m trying to get Colonel Owens a Bronze Star Medal and I got one

for my explosive ordinance officer, not me.

Hey, like it’s almost late yet. Kisses and hugs and all that good stuff,

Baby Doll. I still love you even if you have AGED slightly.

Ray

According to the May 1967 command chronology, MABS-13 had 18 Marine Corps offi-

cers; by June 1967, their officer corps was at 17. Marine Air Base Squadron 13 (MABS-13),

Command Chronology (ComdC) May 1967, Box __, Folder 077, 1201077124, U.S. Ma-

rine Corps History Division Vietnam War Documents Collection, Vietnam Center and

Sam Johnson Vietnam Archive, Texas Tech University; and Marine Air Base Squadron

13 (MABS-13), ComdC June 1967, Box __, Folder 077, 1201077125, U.S. Marine Corps

History Division Vietnam War Documents Collection, Vietnam Center and Sam Johnson

Vietnam Archive, Texas Tech University.

June 1967

———

351

K . L

18 June 1967

12 years later

Hey, you know what? We got married on a hot night! How come I was so

cold? Don’t answer that! Well, I could use some of the cold air tonight.

It’s in the 90s and the windows are open. I froze up the air conditioner

last night. Can’t I please say A/C? I put it on intermittent to save fuel, and

it doesn’t work on intermittent. So, we sweltered, fled to Mom’s by noon,

and went swimming at the lake by late afternoon. We came back so cool

we thought it was cool and opened up. Wrong move. Anyhoo, that’s how

I know we got married on a hot night!

It’s been a pretty good weekend, all told. I went to see Hurry Sundown

with my neighbor friend. . . .

Anyway, that was pleasant, and we parked

in the parking lot across from the Driskill Hotel, where we ran out to get

our car after the wedding, and I thought of that as we waited for the car

and watched busloads of people in evening dress pull up to the hotel for

the president’s $1,000/plate dinner that was going on that night. . . .

. . .

This morning, I was presented with “our” anniversary present: an

olive jar painted (they painted) green with crinkle paint, with three lovely

pink roses and a bow on it. Charming! The card was most appropriate for

us too and I’ll enclose it.

. . .

Swimming at the lake was a boon to me with the kids of course. . . .

Kirk mostly leaped on Don’s back, but we did calm him down and taught

him the two step and he was grateful. He gets very giggly about dancing.

Karen and Robin do the new dances, and we all laugh at what you’ll say

when you see how they can wiggle now!

Kathy still has a hard time warming up to Don and men. I really can

see how she misses you there. She really needs some Daddy hugs and play.

. . .

Karen is growing one bosom. She told me she was, but I didn’t be-

Hurry Sundown, directed by Otto Preminger, starring Michael Cane and Jane Fonda

(Hollywood, CA: Paramount Pictures, 1967).

During Johnson’s presidential tenure, the Driskill served as the headquarters for the

White House Press Corps and a suite was permanently reserved for President Johnson.

“Timeline,” DriskillHotel.com, accessed 30 June 2023.

Chapter Nine

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352

lieve her. I saw it tonight, however, and she blushed. I think it was her

first blush too.

Robin is brown as a berry and plump as a berry too with femininity.

Men are beginning to say, “Well! A room full of pretty girls,” when they

see them. And they are pretty. Thank goodness for your good looks.

That’s about it, darling. We miss you terribly, but we are managing

somehow. The weekends are the worst, and we have to work harder to cover

your absence. So when we succeed, it only shows how much we needed

you. But there are so many hours to fill in a year! Wow! Lucky you with

real work to fill the gap.

I’m yawning, sweetheart. My “work” is showing! I know one thing for

sure this 12th anniversary, I wish we were back in that cool motel . . .

Do let’s make a date for that next year. Same time. Better place. Better

place than this year that is. The first place was fine. My hindsight is better

than my foresight obviously. Maybe because now I got you, Babe.

Goodnight, Love,

Gig

K . L

Tuesday

20 June 1967

Darling Sweet,

I have two of your letters to answer, and I can tell the crisis is over. You

sounded so darn guilty that now I feel guilty all over again! It really was my

fault too! Not yours at all. Heavens, that bit about Fulbright didn’t faze

me a bit. The crisis was over my waiting and getting myself into a stew over

not having enough money to send the kids to camp or get the machines

fixed. But the longer I’ve thought it over, the more I’ve decided money

isn’t my problem or your problem, it’s our problem. That’s the way it’s

always been—share and share alike—and the problem arose when I didn’t

think I was getting your share of interest in my share of money problems.

You were interested, but I couldn’t seem to get you concerned. Well, you’ve

shown me finally that you are concerned and that was all I really wanted in

the first place. I wanted you to make the decision. Isn’t that silly? So now,

I’m the one to feel terribly humble that I have such a good husband who

cares so much about me! And you are a precious love and I’m a dirty dog

to worry you the way I did. But oh, I dearly loved all that good attention!

June 1967

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353

I’m just lapping up all those presents and apologies and promises to send

money! That’s just loverly!

. . .

The kids started swim lessons at 0845 this morning and that’s real

early, early for me! I’m amazed, really amazed, at your two-hours sleep bit.

Not that you only had two hours of sleep, but that you didn’t sound like

you’d only had two-hours sleep. That takes real control and discipline.

And when I think you had to face my bad letter on that much sleep, it’s

even more amazing. That’s what really got me. Now, no more feeling bad

on either of our parts and more sleep for both of us.

. . .

Awfully glad you don’t have my age problem, my childcare problem,

my money problem . . . but I’ll be glad to give them to you next November!

Won’t it be fun when we trade problems then. I can hack yours if you can

hack mine. You just proved that.

All for now, Dear. I miss you ever, ever so much and hope all is going

well there. Were they pleased with your trip results to Okinawa? I hope

so. We really are on the road to each other. June is almost gone and that

leaves only four short months to go. They will fly by. Literally for you!

Lunchtime here.

XXXs and hugs,

Gig

K . L

Wednesday night

21 June 1967

Well, Hello Tribe!

You overwhelmed me with my Father’s Day letters, pictures, spaceships,

and handmade cards and plates. All beautiful and very much appreciated.

They all came yesterday, which was great since the whole Chu Lai area was

a few days late on all the mail. So, I didn’t feel let down or left out, on

the contrary, it was just great. And thank the Lord, you got your gifts. The

earrings match your ring for the wedding anniversary, the stone necklace

Gig may be making a reference to the song “Wouldn’t It Be Loverly” sung by Eliza

Doolittle in My Fair Lady, directed by George Cuko, starring Audrey Hepburn and Rex

Harrison (Burbank, CA: Warner Brothers, 1964).

Chapter Nine

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354

was for your birthday tomorrow, and all the pictures are for us just like you

said. Some of them will be beautiful when they are backed and framed

right. The real thin ones are Burmese rock rubbings. They grind the col-

ors in the thin matting with rocks. Then there are two types of Batiks: two

in plastic are a Chinese copy and one a Thailand original (the rather dark

mountain scene). I think we can have some fun with them anyway.

I want to try to answer everyone’s different parts of my Father’s Day

now, but I could hug and kiss all of you for your thoughtfulness.

. . .

Somehow all of a sudden, it’s like late. So, I better get in bed. Hmm,

tomorrow is 22 June. Some mighty strange people born that day.

Kiss all those monsters for me, Honey.

I love you,

Ray

K . L

21 June 1967

The longest day to be 37. Do I feel older yet? Yes, Dear, I guess I do as 37

up there looks positively young; 38 feels much more mature. Thank you

for your welcome into this new age. The best thing to me about simulta-

neous anniversary-birthdays is that they never feel bad because I never feel

alone. You’ve been there before me, in case of birthdays, or are with me,

in case of anniversaries, so somehow the water doesn’t seem so cold. You

have been and are my buffer zone! You’re just one step ahead and have a

hand reaching back to help me up and mine is reaching up to you.

. . .

For heaven’s sake, let’s get off the subject of age. I’ve still got tomor-

row to “celebrate” it! . . . Your money orders came today, and I really don’t

know what to do with them. I don’t deserve them at all. Meaning I should

have been able to lure it out of you. But at this distance, it’s so darn hard

to be alluring. . . . I’m losing my touch. Gotcha worried now, don’t I?

Well, no, I did need the money. Probably gross mismanagement.

Certainly, gross mishandling, but I will say in my defense, I had a great

deal of pressure applied. My own. I got myself in a big stew, and you just

helped me out by taking all the blame like a good gentleman should! The

children were pleased, of course, but they had never been particularly

worried! Robin said to tell Daddy, “Mommy was all wrong and we don’t

June 1967

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355

need the money after all, and we’ll send it back . . . maybe!” How’s that

for diplomacy?

. . .

Glad you’re getting some entertainment there and a party now and

then to spice things up a bit. I just need people, grown-up types, to make

my day. . . .

. . .

Time for work on a birthday package. Please send me a list. Your

usual birthday sport shirt is OUT this year. Unless, of course, you really

could use one.

Gee, I miss you. What’s the latest on where we go from here? What

are you trying to prepare me for with this cat and fleas and Hawaii bit.

How about Corpus Christi? Well, whatever and wherever, I guess we can

hack it together. And so . . .

Goodnight, Love. It’s midnight. Happy birthday to me, you say? Okay!

XXXs,

Gig

K . L

Friday night

23 June 1967

Darling,

It’s my turn to be short in a letter this time. I’ve got to look like something

human at the class of 1947 reunion tomorrow! Only I really look like a

peeled grape with one of those ghastly bubble hairdos. I prefer looking

tan and slightly harassed and frowsy to looking prim and proper. Oh well.

I had a very nice birthday after all. Everyone else enjoyed the whole

day; but since I was guest of honor, I had to wait until nightfall, and it

seemed like a long wait but was worth it. The kids were bubbling with ex-

citement. They worked on it three days and came up with a new hair dryer

bought with green stamps, and much scolding of Kirk’s lousy pasting, and

three pickle jars painted themselves with crackle paint for flour, sugar,

and coffee. Also, a cake they baked, which was very good (all chocolate),

and a well-set table with pink flowers, blue plates, homemade birthday

cards, and lovely new glass goblets from Uncle Don (and cologne) with

Uncle Sam and Helen for guests, as Helen was there when I was born!

. . .

Chapter Nine

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356

Your letter today with news that you could be commanding officer

if you want just seemed to fit in with the general happiness of the week.

Maybe some weeks aren’t so bad after all! It’s not every week I show off

in front of Kirk by cashing $125 at the post office either! But this week it

seemed quite the normal thing to do.

But now, it’s midnight—how does that crawl up on me?—and Don and

I have to go on a tour of Austin High School at 0930 tomorrow as a start,

so I can’t stop now. Gotta finish the week in a big way!

. . .

Not a hair on my head got ruffled, however, as I am plastered down

good for my “graduation”! I did God bless Robin for showing me her

kick at the pool, however. There was no joy in kicking a good splash and

getting a dirty look from the one with the bubble top. She almost popped

my bubble! For heaven’s sake. She looked properly mournful and told me

to get in the middle of the pool. Guided me out there, in fact, as it was

safer there! She wanted to set the clock for me too to get me up on time.

Nothing like cranking up your mom for her cranky old 20th reunion. Too

bad you can’t wake me up. . . . “Don’t you dare you beast! You’ll mess my

hair!”

Goodnight, Dear,

Gig

K . L

Friday night

23 June 1967

Well, hello, hello,

I mean if you tolerate this half-smashed writing, you’re awful big and easy,

or would you rather have nothing? That’s what I wrote on the last two

orders before I left the club “1 Nothing.” But on the way home, I noticed

the water farm didn’t have any lights and a poor private first class trying to

pump and chlorinate in the dark, so I helped him find where the wire was

broken and fixed his lights. So, time wise, I guess you get short-sheeted,

Honey. My eyes close X hours after sunset, regardless of what’s going on.

Where in hell today went is still a mystery. I’ve been rushed since

breakfast and it’s noon already and used and it’s nighttime. Where did it

go? Each minute feels like you have all day, and the day went like a minute.

June 1967

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357

Supposed to get an F-9 test hop tomorrow. Keep your fingers crossed.

Oh, I forgot, a couple of us have been “requested” to check out in the

old Lockheed Hummer (C-117 or Douglas C-47 Skytrain) that big ugly

antique two-prop transport. They want us for supply runs and flare hops,

I guess. You fly all day, and it’s not even a “combat” mission unless you get

shot at and hit. It’s the one Lou Gagnon was flying all the time.

You know, we only have four months and two weeks to go? Hmm, not

all that bad. Colonel Palmer keeps saying he’s going to get me checked

out in the F-4 sometime. I’m afraid he’s going to leave MABS and take a

gun squadron (F-4) in the next few months maybe. Marine Fighter Attack

Squadron 314 (VMFA-314) and their skipper of two days is on the hospital

ship Sanctuary (AH 17) already with renal cellulitis.

I think that’s kidney

stones in Greek. Pat Faulkner got a Distinguished Flying Cross and Ray

Pendergraft got a Vietnamese Cross of Gallantry today. Those are some

advantages to flying the F-4.

The 46th wedding anniversary sounded swell thanks to Pris and you

and all the work that went into it. . . .

I wandered out on the runway last night to see why some idiot taxied

off into the sand (taxi lights went out on him apparently) and an F-4 came

in, dropped his hook, caught the arresting wire, blew a tire, and dropped

a 500-pound bomb on the runway. Tomorrow, I’m going to present the

arresting “point” man the “twinkle toes of the year award.” He saw sparks

on the runway of that huge bomb roaring down on him on the runway

and, not even knowing what it was, had the sense to jump out of the way.

Whew! Talk about close shaves—and there had been another one that

morning too! And this week—Wednesday, I think—a damn napalm tank

fell off, exploded, and damn near got three of them.

They rate hazardous

duty pay if anyone else ever did. They get fired at more than the Viet Cong!

And out at the bomb dump last month, a wire in a battery in a forklift

shorted out and caused a huge roaring fire in the napalm mixing stand.

One guy put it out so fast no one else knew it had happened. And an-

According to the official history, VMFA-314’s commanding officer at the time was LtCol

Frank D. Topley. See Maj Gary L. Telfer, LtCol Lane Rogers, and V. Keith Fleming Jr.,

U.S. Marines in Vietnam: Fighting the North Vietnamese, 1967 (Washington, DC: History and

Museums Division, Headquarters Marine Corps, 1984), 280.

The command chronology for the period offers limited details other than to report 405

arrested landings. There is no mention of accidents. MABS-13, ComdC June 1967.

Chapter Nine

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358

other kid tackled a guy who had doused his clothes with diesel fuel and

was lighting flare pots for the runway and his clothing caught on fire.

This kid tackled him even though his clothes were also soaked with diesel

fuel, rolled him in the sand, put the fire out. I’m telling you, Honey, we

have some of the most tremendous people in the world out here and they

aren’t really fighting the war themselves—just wonderful people working

their butts off.

Good night, Darling.

I love you,

Ray

K . L

Figure 38. A U.S. Marine Corps Douglas A-4C Skyhawk from Marine

Attack Squadron 225 (VMA-225) lands at Chu Lai, Vietnam

At the time, the airstrip was only 1,050 m (3.500 ft) long. The total length

of the strip after completion was later 2,440 m (8,000 ft). Note that the

aircraft’s tailhook is extended to catch the mobile arresting gear designed

to stop planes in 40 m (130 ft).

Source: official U.S. Navy photo 1112164 by PH R. L. Dukes.

June 1967

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359

Sunday night

25 June 1967

Hey, do you know what? Yes, we did get married on a cold night and that

damn cold air conditioner made it even colder. Didn’t it, Dear? And now

you’re freezing up the air conditioner? Must be pure spite! “Clean the

filters every two weeks,” the man said. Remember?

. . .

I think the olive jar sounds beautiful. . . .

K . L

Monday morning

26 June 1967

Hello Dearest,

Move over, I’m coming to Vietnam! Boy, you just don’t know what I’d give

to do just that. I’m drained, depleted, and spent after my emotional look

backward 20 years. They gave me my diploma—an honorary one framed in

gold—and I made a little speech (three lines), and it was all TOO MUCH!

Especially without your shoulder to cry on afterward.

Well, I’m very glad it’s all over. The kids couldn’t figure out where

and why I was going all day Saturday. . . .

They [the school] made a big deal out of the “wrong” done to me

with no diploma and how they had gone to the Board of Education, and

it still voted NO! But two board members were old classmates and one

of them finally said, “Hell, yes! Give her a diploma.” The other one did

too then, so I got two votes, hence the “honorary” deal. Actually, they

didn’t have time to check records and the rule is if you’re gone a year,

you don’t get to graduate. But since I’d graduated from the University of

Texas, they were sort of nonplussed! I sure had a hard time graduating

even at the end! . . .

Everyone is fine here. I’ve still got to get going on camp and the next

big deal, which is Karen’s birthday and yours! It’s 98 degrees here and I’m

not moving too fast.

. . .

Your pretty girl is sitting by me now playing with screw drivers. Her

hair is getting longer. We’re going to finish the portraits this week and

maybe get Karen and Robin in the picture too. We’ll see.

I miss you more than I can say and know more every day that I did

Chapter Nine

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360

marry the right guy after all. How lucky we are, regardless of the miles

between us.

I sure hope I get a letter from you today. I need a big dose of the pres-

ent to offset the large dose of the past.

I love you, Darling.

Gig

K . L

Monday afternoon

25 June 1967

Never really got started as the colonel came in with the good news that

one of our people had shot and killed a soldier cleaning his weapon, and

we just got started on that when a man I had been counseling half the

afternoon was going nuts outside my hut. I had warned the skipper about

what I thought about his case at supper, even though the colonel had talk-

ed to him two days himself. I felt the guy was psychotic and should be sent

to a psychiatrist immediately. By 0830, this guy had really flipped, and we

were chasing him all over the air station, through barbed wire, and falling

into bunkers. He got away four times and finally picked up a seven-foot-

long 4 x 4 and was going to kill someone. We finally got the board and

him down, and he asked for me to get everyone off of him. I talked to him

for a while and finally decided it would be okay if he was good. I finally

talked him into an ambulance and up to sick bay for some more long talks

(with me, the colonel, and the doctor). He refused to sleep overnight in

sick bay and, when he saw the senior noncommissioned officer (SNCO)

he worked for, he started up again. It took 12 corpsmen to hold him down

to give him a shot and put him out. Then they took him over to the big

hospital.

Whew, one hell of a Sunday night!

When the poor H&MS office clerk brought the flight schedule into

the hut about 0430 this morning, he had four pistols pointed at him until

we made sure who he was!

According to a study done by Columbia University and the Harvard School of Pub-

lic Health, 19 percent of the 3 million troops who served in Vietnam came home with

post-traumatic stress disorder. An earlier study from 1990 showed even more dramatic

results with more than 30 percent suffering from PTSD. See “Vietnam Era Health Ret-

rospective Observational Study,” U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs, accessed 27 April

2023.

June 1967

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361

Didn’t get out on a test hop yesterday either—five starts and six fuel

leaks and to hell with it.

What made the problem worse with Cory last night was that every

time I’d get him calmed down someone would get too close or try to grab

him and off mentally and physically he’d go. That’s why I had to eventual-

ly just have them stand back and let me handle him until the ambulance

came. I wanted him knocked out after the doctor had a chance to talk to

him, not out there near the runway. Need I say that we sure don’t want

him back! That was an emotional experience to say the least, but I was

glad he trusted someone, because he sure was a wild man and had been

fighting all his life. We took his gear over to the hospital this morning,

and they’re going to keep him asleep until they can get him out to the

hospital ship this afternoon.

And how did your quiet peaceful Sunday evening go? More relaxing,

I hope.

. . .

Well, better get back to work. I’ve got meetings back-to-back, plus a

test hop and fitness report to write on the warrant officers and second

lieutenants.

See you later, Baby.

Love,

Ray

K . L

Monday night

26 June 1967

Hello yourself, Big Chief Wampum!

You snuck one in on me. Before I finished my letter this morning, the

NAVMC 10835, USMC Fitness Report (1610), describes a fitness report as “the most

important information component in manpower management. It is a means of evaluat-

ing a Marine’s performance and is the Commandant’s primary tool for the selection of

personnel for promotion, augmentation, resident schooling, command, and duty assign-

ments.” For more on current requirements, see Shannon Phillips and Adam Clemens,

The Fitness Report System for Marine Officers: Prior Research (Alexandria, VA: CNA, 2011).

The term wampum originated from the Massachusett or Narragansett word meaning

“white strings of shell beads,” which was considered a symbol of status or power. American

slang transitioned it to mean money.

Chapter Nine

———

362

mailman brought yours. That’s always sort of fun. It’s a game that par-

ticularly works on Monday mornings. I always lose on purpose, I think

because I pretend you were thinking of me first. But then I feel guilty that

mine wasn’t out there waiting for yours. I can’t seem to win. I just caught

my boo-boo up there. No, I not always loose on purpose! I just goose on

purpose!

I kissed all your monsters for you and watched the satisfied ex-

pressions on their faces as they got their thanks for their Father’s Day

work.

. . .

You remind me of Robin. Old eager beaver Robin. She doesn’t take

no for an answer these days, and today I just turned around and took a

swing at her. She ducked of course. But for a while there, I was at the

controls again, especially after I caught her on the second swing! She’s

full of respect again. We don’t talk about the fact that she got treated to a

doughnut downtown and new sunglasses. . . .

We sort of moseyed around downtown this afternoon. I deposited the

camp money and Kirk turned in his $7 in nickels and pennies. He kept

his change from school lunches etc. instead of sharing it like the girls.

That isn’t fair, but wild horses can’t get it away from him now. We’re all

pretty tolerant of his new wealth.

Kirk is going through a rather awkward stage, slightly sadistic toward

the cat, Kathy, and the girls. . . . He just seems terribly restless because he

has no boys to play with. Walt is still gone, and boy playmates are very hard

to come by. I’m sure it will all disappear when he has more boy friends.

He’s a very gregarious type of boy. This is mostly a social problem. Just a

darn shame Kathy wasn’t a boy. He adores her and she him, but he’s at

an age to want to shoot water pistols and drop water bombs. Kathy walks

around with a gun in her pants and tries to be a boy too, but of course

that’s pretty small comfort. It just makes her more adorable.

. . .

Must close now. I didn’t mean to talk about the kids so much, but

your interest stirred me too. I know you miss them too, not just me. No

more Avon toothbrushes for you! Such a pretty red one too!

Goodnight, Love,

Gig

K . L

June 1967

———

363

Wednesday night

28 June 1967

Hi Honey,

You’re right, this month has sailed by faster than May, and it was a whirl-

wind to start with. Matter of fact, with our nuts and shooting, this week

itself has been wild. And to top it off, Colonel Palmer was gone to Cubi

Point, Subic Bay, Philippines, for two and a half days.

I’ve never seen so many people with psychological problems, we’ve

had four this week and two last week. I’ve got three more in the brig,

all various stages of nuts. Antisocial, schizophrenic, maladjusted, psy-

chotic young hoods. They write pleading letters to their congressmen,

the secretary of the Navy, the Commandant, and one to the president

himself—ugh. That was the only one that didn’t have to be answered, by

the way, “Forwarded for such counseling, guidance, and advice as the

commanding officer may deem necessary.” Most of them are threatening-

ly endorsed, “Forwarded for action. Provide necessary information to this

headquarters within 36 hours to base a reply to the next higher headquar-

ters.” And the damned things take four to six days to get from office to

office, and you’re a month in the hole by the time it gets to you!

How was your class reunion? Horrifying? Didn’t recognize the bald

and fat ones? Quite a shock to see some of them, I’m sure.

It sounds like the kids did great on your birthday supper. Did they

really bake you a cake? Pris had a hand in it I’m sure. She should write a

book: “How to bust your ass organizing a party without looking like it!”

We talked some more about my being the commanding officer, and

it’s been decided that the group commanding officer wants a lieutenant

colonel commanding MABS, even if he can’t have any for his staff. It’s

that big a job. I can and have done it, but that extra horsepower sure helps

get other people to do things at times.

Oops, the clock just jumped ahead four hours and I have the early,

early tomorrow.

. . .

I just remembered July is instrument card and annual physical month,

plus annual flight time reporting—all a hell of a mess over here. None of

the gun squadrons have to mess with it.

Figure on Cherry Point, North Carolina, or Beaufort, South Caroli-

na. So far, my orders are to the 2d Marine Aircraft Wing period.

Chapter Nine

———

364

Goodnight, Darling.

I love you!

Ray

K . L

Wednesday night

28 June 1967

Hello Angel Love,

I got your newsletter and long letter. I thought the poem by the sergeant

was especially touching about how they keep you all happy. And I noted

that R. B. Stice is keeping up with his commanding officer in stars! . . .

. . . It is very nice indeed to have a respected man for a husband.

I seem to be custodian of “Ray’s friends” until he comes home, and I

give your address out often. Somehow, they all take comfort just knowing

where you are and being able to boast a bit about you. They all seem to

really miss you in a way that would probably surprise even you.

Of course, that was why I latched on to you long ago and thought I’d

have you to myself, but I’m afraid I’m doomed to share you with men.

And only by the grace of God not with too many other women! . . .

. . .

I know you feel very strongly about the brave men you work with,

and those stories certainly do prove that point, but I just wanted you to

know that men feel the same way about you. Bill Coleman always tries to

help me accept the fact of your being gone for a cause that is totally right

for you (even as you do too), but I prefer to keep it on a more elementary

plane. I just miss the physical Ray Stice—the boy I married and the man I

love. There isn’t much you can do about that. Where you’re concerned,

I’m very selfish. Who else can tell me what a nice smelly old hag I am?

My X eyes are closing too. They don’t close as easily as yours unfortu-

nately, but they do now and then. I sure am tired of tossing and turning

though. Some man sure did spoil me . . .

Will July ever come?

XXXs,

Gig

K . L

June 1967

———

365

Friday

30 June 1967

Hi Darling,

Here comes the mailman, but here I go anyway. Well, he didn’t leave

anything today, but that’s probably because you’re busy. Right? Right! He

picked up our homemade invitations to Karen’s skating party next week,

which we’ve all slaved over this morning.

It’s going to be another busy week coming up. Don has Monday off,

so we may all go to New Braunfels for the day and then spend the 4th

of July at the lake on the Coleman’s boat and then get ready for Karen’s

party Friday. Makes me tired already to think of it all!

It’s really dry here now, and I’m watering like mad, but it only seems

to grow green in patches. I had a broken hose for two weeks and it got out

of hand.

. . . Are you any good at taking 11 girls and 1 boy to the skating rink?

We tried to shuck the boy, but he clouded over so much we gave in and

will probably be sorry! He’s been having plenty of boy play lately and Walt

comes home tomorrow, which will be a big help!

Really not too much else going on at the moment. It’s sort of exactly

midyear today and that’s really the hump, isn’t it? It should be all down-

hill from now on.

Must close now and use my new green stamp hairdryer. If that doesn’t

help, I’ll cut it all off and start all over again.

XXXs and such,

Gig

K . L

Friday night

30 June 1967

Hi Baby,

We’re having one of those work stoppages—glad I’m not flying—sand-

storms at the moment so I have a few minutes to write you until it blows

over.

Your last few letters have been priceless. Your attitude is great, so keep

it up as we’re on the downhill haul! Even after the worst of your stormy

seas, you came popping back to the surface roaring to go again, and I love

Chapter Nine

———

366

you every bit of it. Not your agonies, but your resiliency, your long-term

endurability. Take me, for example, stubborn bastard that I am, and it

really takes a special kind of something to put up with me all these years

and you even want more! Well okay, more you get! You’ve named your

own poison (now sleep with it). Yeah!

Remember Major T. K. Burke in our wedding—real tall, lean, and

dark headed—I’m going to see him in a little while at happy hour. The

skipper invited him over for chow and drinks. We decided to keep all our

drinks healthy by serving chow at the officers’ club Friday nights, so we

alternate between hot dogs and hamburgers on Friday to charcoal broiled

steaks and lobsters the next week. The RVN’s learn how to make charcoal

and we’ve learned how to barter with the Army on the langosta [spiny lob-

ster] or lobsters, whatever they are. If the meat is in the claws, it’s lobster,

if the meat is in the tail it’s langosta, I think.

I’ve discovered one slight reward for all this hard work. As the exec-

Figure 39. Maj Ray Stice (fourth from right) with his groomsmen that

included T. K. Burke on the day of the wedding

Source: Stice family collection.

June 1967

———

367

utive officer, I get invited to all the section beach parties (with the com-

manding officer) and we GO! For at least a couple of hours, usually over

the noon hour, and this way I get to have a couple of legal beers, a bite to

eat, and a nice swim before coming back to the office—not all that bad.

The water here is so salty, I can actually float!

Whew, filthy dirty with the sand. At least you can see the runway now,

and we’ve started to launch again! Last night at the same time, the wind

and rain ripped off the roof of one of the squadron’s operations offices.

Seems to be the duty thunderstorm these days.

. . .

Whew, sure looks dark back over the hills. Still some fight left in that

storm. They get so fat and sassy that they can’t hold themselves together

and leap off the damn hills right down our necks this time almost every

day now. I used to look into everyone’s eyes—their red eyes—and wonder

what sort of a boozer you look like. It’s the damned blowing sand! Mine

cleared up in two days in Okinawa.

Whew yeah, it’s 0400 in the morning and time to go brief.

See you later, Sweet Love.

Love,

Ray

———

368

JULY 1967

1 July 1967

[partial letter; pages 1 and 2 missing]

. . . Everyone was bike riding except Robin, so I felt guilty or sorry enough

to say she gets a bike very soon.

. . .

The Penn boys are all home from camps (next door), so the kids had

a fine game of hide and seek tonight, and when Kirk got discouraged

running, they helped him seek. After clocking his running efforts on their

driveway, they finally are feeling like big boys who can help the little boys.

That pleased Kirk, of course. But then, Kirk was pretty worn out from lots

of swimming. Usually, he doesn’t accept help so graciously or want it par-

ticularly. He’s a good boy, but had one of his “moments” this afternoon

trying to see if the cat would go around in the dryer. Caught red-handed

and red-faced, he promised never to be cruel again and knows I meant it

like never before this time. I don’t care if he is just experimenting, which I

hope is all he’s doing. He got a licking and then a firm forgiving. I’m hop-

ing that my spankings will be all he’ll ever need. They are rough enough!

Robin got a swift kick this morning, and I broke my sandals doing it.

My precious Hawaiian sandals. That bothered Rob more than the kick,

because she knows I won’t fix it and worries that I might just go barefoot

July 1967

———

369

on her account! One never knows about Mama! Mama would do any-

thing to prove a moral point. Maybe be immoral! Nope, I haven’t tried

that yet. Father was immoral enough for both of us in his heyday. Right,

Father? Ooo, low blow. That’s okay, Pop. I rather liked the idea of your

premarital escapades. As long as you got out of them as well as you did.

And I guess you did. Don’t you love it when I leave things hanging that

way? Well, since you are the lion in the family, your stripes should be a little

bit blacker than mine.

I miss you. Can you tell? Goodnight, Dear Man. I love you.

Gig

K . L

Sunday

2 July 1967

Darling,

Kirk and I are rather at loose ends at the moment. The girls have gone off

to play, Kathy is asleep, and it’s hot out . . .

We had a full day yesterday with Don.

. . .

Later, Don took the kids to a play along with the Coleman kids and

found that being Uncle Don to so many is quite a job! If he can last out

through tomorrow, they are looking forward to a trip to New Braunfels for

the day. Mom begged off after her weekend in the hills near Mo-Ranch,

but says she’ll take care of Kathy.

. . .

Kirk was really thrilled over his new bike, but a little miffed over not

being wanted by the girls today, hence the letter. I had to twist his arm as

he doesn’t like to write when he’s in a bad mood, but he warmed up at the

thought of drawing these pictures. He tried to copy off of a Marine diplo-

ma—your corporal discharge that hangs in his room—but then decided on

the gun fights instead. The pictures don’t have any significance, Papasan.

Don’t try to read into them. Just remember this is typical seven-year-old

shoot ’em up drawings. We decided to label them, so you’d know who

was who.

. . .

Well, it’s bedtime for mamasan. The days go slow for me and the

Chapter Ten

———

370

nights too fast. Just the opposite for you. How will we ever get synchro-

nized?

I love you, Dearest,

Gig—the girl who needs a wig.

K . L

Noon Sunday

2 July 1967

Robin,

I want to thank you for that swell letter about your mom’s birthday. It

sounded like a really fun time, and you were a good girl to tell me all

about it. Keep ducking (Mom’s hits)!

Kirk,

When are you going to go to camp? I was just about the same age the first

time I went, and I still remember some of the things we did. It was a little

work and a lot of fun, and we learned how to make all kinds of things.

Kathy,

Hi! How are you? Kiss your mom for me? I won’t need any help in about

four months, thank you. If Mom gets bad, you can spank her, okay? You’re

a girl; Kirk’s a boy.

And now to my eldest daughter, good evening, Miss Stice,

Have you enjoyed the day’s reverie? I’d appreciate some of your culi-

nary delicacies if you could persuade your mother into properly prepaying

the postal package for its precipitous plight.

All of you should get your old lady to show you how to pop popcorn,

so I can really be lazy. How’s that for starting a war, hmm? See, you can’t

really bug me, like I can bug you. Cause I have four little arm-twisters to

help put on the pressure . . .

Sunday night

In Beeville, Texas, I had two students who were head and shoulders above

all the others. One Navy guy you met and one Marine—Lieutenant Na-

pier—you didn’t meet. Well, today he had his umpteenth baptism of fire

July 1967

———

371

and had to watch Major Ray D. Pendergraft get hit and go in.

I didn’t

see it, but I heard it all on the emergency frequency we guard all the time.

We think an enemy artillery shell actually hit him—although that sort

of thing is extremely rare—I think he was gone before he hit the water,

because knowing Ray, he would have clawed his way out if he could. Why

the radar intercept officer (RIO) didn’t get out is sheer speculation. He

was the one that called Mayday and that they had lost all their fuel. He

should have ejected, even if Ray couldn’t. Can you take all this? It’s pretty

heady stuff; always hard to believe and never quite forgotten. . . . He was

trying to get back together with his wife and they went to Hawaii a couple

of weeks ago. Well, that’s the way it goes, damn it.

Goodnight, Darling, sleep tight. Only four months—count them!—to

go, really.

Love to you, Honey,

Ray

K . L

4th of July 1967

Hi Honey,

It’s supposed to be a holiday if I remember correctly; it’s a Tuesday that’s

for sure.

Who told the mailman to quit? Where’s the old “the mail must go

through” philosophy we used to have?

Well, things are sure getting hot up in the DMZ, aren’t they? Some

pretty big operations going on. Nothing more on Ray Pendergraft and his

radar officer. He was their squadron executive officer, and the only thing

Captain J. P. Faulkner, their Safety Officer, and I can figure is that he

[the RIO] must have been hit at the same time the aircraft was hit. There

just isn’t any other answer to why he didn’t eject. They really need a dual

The Marine Fighter Attack Squadron 542 (VMFA-542) command chronology stated,

“One squadron aircraft was lost due to enemy action while conducting a [close air support]

CAS mission against NVA in the open. The pilot, Major Ray D. Pendergraft and RIO,

Captain David G. Spearman, were killed in action.” VMFA-542, Command Chronology

(ComdC) July 1967, Box __, Folder 108, 1201108032US Marine Corps History Division

Vietnam War Documents Collection, Vietnam Center and Sam Johnson Vietnam Ar-

chive, Texas Tech University, 2.

Chapter Ten

———

372

RAY D. PENDERGRAFT

Major Ray D. Pendergraft was Stice’s commanding officer in

1960 at Cherry Point, North Carolina, and they served together

in Chu Lai.

At 1000 on 2 July 1967, Bravo Company, 1st Bat-

talion, 9th Marines, were on patrol about 2.4

kilometers northeast of Con Thien when they

made contact with what they thought was a small,

well-entrenched enemy unit. Alpha Company, also

on patrol nearby, came to help, and the two under-

strength companies found themselves in a meat

grinder. The small enemy force turned out to be

five North Vietnamese Army (NVA) battalions that

had crossed the DMZ. The NVA troops were supported by artillery firing from

within and north of the DMZ. Two battalion landing teams—one each from USS

Tripoli (LPH 10) and USS Okinawa (LPH 3)—were committed in support of what

became a week-long pitched battle. Fixed-wing air support also was called in to

support the Marine infantry.

Major Ray D. Pendergraft, pilot, and Captain David G. Spearman, radar

intercept officer, in a McDonnell Douglas F-4B Phantom II were part of the

response. While attacking NVA forces near Kinh Mon, within the DMZ proper,

their aircraft was hit by ground fire. His wingman followed Pendergraft out to sea

and watched helplessly as the F-4B crashed at sea. Both crewmen died in the crash.

Major Bruce A. Martin, flying a Vought F-8E Crusader with Marine

All-Weather Fighter Squadron 232 (VMF[AW]-232), observed Major Pender-

graft’s aircraft leaving the target area trailing smoke; he also saw it go into the

water. Only minutes later, Martin was hit by ground fire while making a low-level

bombing run on NVA positions near Thon Cam Son, also within the DMZ. His

aircraft on fire, Major Martin headed for the open water, escorted by a section

of Douglas A-4 Skyhawks. By the time the fire forced him to eject, an Air Force

Sikorsky HH-3 Jolly Green Giant helicopter was on scene, having launched from

Da Nang in response to the search-and-rescue (SAR) call for Major Pendergraft’s

aircraft. Major Martin was picked up and survived the incident.

On the ground, 3d Battalion, 9th Marines, had been inserted by helicopter

on the enemy’s left flank and the massive weight of U.S. air and artillery support

was taking its toll on the NVA. By evening, the NVA had broken contact, with-

drawing into the DMZ. By that time, Bravo Company, 1st Battalion, 9th Marines,

had been destroyed as a fighting force, with 58 men killed in action, Alpha Com-

pany had 13 killed in action, and H&S Company 15 lost, including 8 corpsmen.

“Ray Daniel Pendergraft,” Virtual Wall, Vietnam Veterans Memorial, accessed 7 Novem-

ber 2023.

July 1967

———

373

command ejection system, where either pilot could eject the other and

then themselves. That type of system would really save a lot of lives if we

had it, but it’s only in one brand new basic trainer and hardly tested at the

time being. It would be great where one guy is hit or unable to eject and

the other guy could punch him out and get out before the aircraft stops.

Hey, you know we’re down to 120 days now. How about that? The last

four months, nine down and four to go.

Get Kirk some boys to play with, that’s what he needs. A boy just

needs other boys and men, and this is going to be a long hot summer as it

is without him not having someone to hassle with. Maybe you can trade

off with the Colemans for Lance.

Sold the boat yet? Next week? That’s nice!

You know, I’ve been thinking it over and I’ve decided that if any-

thing should happen to Mom or Lucille, I should be notified by the Red

Cross by telegram so I could come home right away.

Lord, I hope nothing

should occur, but if it did, I’d want to return. Okay? And through the Red

Cross is the only way to do it. They just keep you in the states your last

120 days.

Well, your letter was just delivered describing the weekend with the

Austin’s in Austin. It sure will be swell to take part in all that again—the

whole bit.

So, you’re tossing and turning too? That makes us a pair. There are

only about four basic positions where my bed fits right enough to drop off

and none of them are quite right. I always end up thinking that if Gig was

here in bed, she would be right there and, if I turned here, then we could

both go to sleep. We used to go through a regular song and dance before

we’d settle down, remember?

I spent all afternoon figuring out my annual flight time report. Whew,

it’s done; physical and instrument checks next.

I lost my 32-year-old gunnery sergeant career advisor. He had a mas-

sive heart attack and is out on the USS Sanctuary (AH 17) just making it.

Got 2 nuts off to Japan and 3 more getting discharged, then to top off

the weekend 10 people in the guard went on liberty out in the off-limits

village and got caught. And to really top off the whole mess, I think Col-

Lucille was Stice’s sister. She was very ill with Huntington’s disease and in her last

stages when he deployed to Vietnam. Lucille was married to U.S. Army BGen Albion

W. Knight Jr.

Chapter Ten

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374

onel Palmer is going to get relieved in the next couple of weeks, dammit.

This will mean the fourth skipper to break in, and Palmer has done more

for this command than anyone else I’ve ever seen—a real dynamo who has

learned how to be patient at times—just great.

A huge bomb fell off of an aircraft the other night and damn near

caught the nearest (arrested) crew again when it detonated KABOOM,

yeah! Sounded like Da Nang the first night back from R&R. I’ve always

had 15/15 hearing, which is (was) about as good as you can get, so it

would sure be interesting to see the hearing test results.

Goodnight, Sweetheart. I miss you something fierce.

Love to you, Gig,

Ray

KISS THE KIDLETS, DOZO!

K . L

Wednesday

5 July 1967

Hello Darling,

My goodness, things have been wild around here. I’m a bit confused and

having a summer cold. . . . But it seems quiet for the moment, and I’m

not sneezing too much, just snuffling and peering through watery eyes!

We drove to New Braunfels Monday with Don and had a fine swim,

though it wasn’t as much fun as when you took us. Best part of the day was

coming home to find two letters from you. What a wild chase you had! I’d

comment on it, but the kids seem to be interrupting me constantly and

my brain just won’t work. I’ll wait and comment tonight. But I wanted

you to know we got back from there okay and then went to the lake yester-

day (on the fourth), though by then I was completely weathered in with a

cold, so I had a dry fourth. The kids got plenty of swimming, enough to

skip a swimming lesson this morning. They also went to the country club

According to the MABS-13 command chronology, LtCol Richard E. Carey was the

commanding officer for the period. MABS-13, ComdC July 1967, Box __, Folder 077,

1201077126, U.S. Marine Corps History Division Vietnam War Documents Collection,

Vietnam Center and Sam Johnson Vietnam Archive, Texas Tech University, 2.

According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, 15 decibels is considered

within the normal range of hearing. See “Inquiring Ears Want to Know: A Fact Sheet

about Your Hearing Test,” CDC.gov, 2008.

July 1967

———

375

to watch fireworks, but I stayed home with Kathy. Don came through for

me all this week. The week isn’t over yet, as there’s still Karen’s birthday

to work on. Whoosh!

Darling, you shouldn’t try to comment on all our doings here. That

takes too much of your valuable time. I know you are getting the gist of

things. . .

I can tell what really, really full days you are having, and they make

very exciting reading. I’m rather glad they need a lieutenant colonel for a

commanding officer. I couldn’t stand the strain! Must close now and get

some groceries.

I love you ever so much,

Gig

K . L

Evening

5 July 1967

Darling,

I don’t know if I even made sense this morning. Such energy! Such life

surrounds me with the kids home. Even now as I sit here at the kitchen

table, it is neatly set for breakfast (cereal bowls filled) and I am drinking

my “coffee” (ahead of time). Robin mistakenly made tea, because coffee is

what pries me up in the morning to take them to swimming lessons. And

they are as religious about that as about school. Getting me up is part of

the ritual! They cannot do much, but what they can do they do with great

love, joy, and confidence!

. . .

Well, I got put on the spot tonight. I knew I was getting behind, but

when Milly called and wrote all in the same day—I’m a month behind!

Poor dear, she hadn’t had news of you in that long and she’s been reading

about secretary of defense Robert S. McNamara’s plans or ideas to have

Marines just use helicopters and ground flight, she got concerned about

what this would do to your career as a jet pilot.

Well, I guess we’ll all soon

Edward J. Drea, Secretaries of Defense Historical Series, vol. 6, McNamara, Clifford, and the

Burdens of Vietnam, 1965–1969 (Washington, DC: Historical Office, Office of the Secre-

tary of Defense, 2011), particularly chaps. 2 and 3.

Chapter Ten

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376

know about all that since McNamara is on his way there now.

I will send

her some of your letters and bring her up to date. . . .

. . .

I’m really finding Hawaii has some fringe benefits now. Whenever I

want to put myself to sleep, I think about our wonderful bed there and the

fun we had—the whole bit—and I grin myself to sleep! I had to laugh when

I thought, “What if someone heard me?” Still, it’s a pretty fresh memory

and one of my nicest ones because it feels like now. I just wish I had kissed

you in the car instead of waiting until we got to the hotel. Sometimes I’m

a prude, or maybe we just stay frozen so long it’s hard to unthaw for a

minute or two. I’m going to whittle that down to half a second.

. . .

I’m still glowing from your remarks about my letters today. I felt like

I got a fitness report. No, I didn’t feel that way at all. I was just delighted

if I did manage to say something that amused you even for a moment.

That makes my day as a woman. You have, of course, been doing the same

thing for me dearest—many many times when I don’t even mention it. I

just worry that you shouldn’t take that much time with me. Maybe my last

tantrum worried you. Well, I’m all fine really, Dearest. Rigid and ready for

running another three to four weeks. . . .

Karen sort of ran out of steam on her letter to you, but I’ll send it

anyway. She still says, “The day after yesterday” and means it! Both girls

are getting bosoms, and that is the big (tiny) growth change going on at

the moment.

Little Miss Red is up to her usual too. Count today: 1) one broken

catsup bottle; 2) one angry attempt to open the icebox, which worked (oh

joy!); 3) one time with Mama’s lipstick all over the hands and up to the

nose; 4) one black eye from a fall; and 5) one fight with Jennifer.

Goodnight, Darling, that’s par for the course tonight!

XXXs,

Gig

K . L

McNamara was in Vietnam from 7–11 July. See United States-Vietnam Relations, 1945–

1967, vol. 1, The Air War in North Vietnam (Washington, DC: Vietnam Task Force, Office

of the Secretary of Defense, 2011), 19. This document was declassified and made public

in 2011.

July 1967

———

377

Friday (Karen is 11 year’s old)

7 July 1967

Hello Darling,

Yes, it really is her 11th and, even with all the hubbub of the birthday

party today, the years don’t seem to be there. The only way I could notice

a difference was those infinitesimal little bosoms. I can’t hug her as hard

now as I used to! It hurts her a little bit and me too to think the first 10

years are over and she’s into the next 10.

Well, no use getting morose. It’s been such a long day, and we all

stayed busy every minute. Several things went wrong, but it all came out

okay in the end. The big mistake I made was not calling to see if the skat-

ing rinks were open. I loaded up the car with the nine kids and set out

for the rink. We had the air conditioner on because it was 1400 in the

afternoon and 100 degrees out. Well, the car died on me at a light, and I

tried not to panic. I just told the kids to open up, waited for traffic to go

by so I could hear the engine, and finally got it going again. We found the

north rink closed. But undaunted, we decided to try the south rink clear

across town. I raced the motor at every pause and light and still it died

once more. I got it going and made it with weak knees and very quiet chil-

dren to the south rink, also closed. Well, then we crossed town going 30

miles-per-hour and came home. I guess I had the car overloaded! We were

all hot and a little shaken but glad to be home. Then we tried to rev up

the party. When even Kirk and Walt, crammed in the very back of the car

were quiet, you know we were all listening for the motor. But after drinks,

cake, and ice cream, spirits lifted a bit, and we started playing games.

. . .

And your letter came. That put a happy note into the day, since you

had written to the kids, and I was reading it to them when I came to the

sad news that was for me. So of course, I reread the letter later on again

to see if I understood it right. You were so gentle with the news that I am

fooled for a moment, but only a moment. You didn’t seem convinced

of it yourself though and I know you always hope for the best until it’s

proven otherwise and so I hope with you. It’s been so long since I saw Ray

Pendergraft that, of course, I hardly remember him. But I still feel like

you, that I’ve known him a long time and I know how you respected his

flying abilities.

I don’t know if it’s good news or not, but the news said the president

Chapter Ten

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378

was going to promote more Marine captains sooner.

Perhaps this will

make some lieutenants happy. What does it do to majors? I think they’ve

just noticed you’re not a captain anymore!

. . . Now, Ray Stice, quit siccing the kids on me to make you food. We

made green icing today and that’s enough. I’ll send you some green icing if

you’re not careful. It matched the napkins.

Goodnight, Dear.

XXXs,

Gig

K . L

Saturday night

8 July 1967

Hi Honey,

Mail is fouled up again, so packages only today. The colonel’s doing fine,

although they are still feeding him intravenously, maybe that’s the style

nowadays to keep gas pains down. He was surrounded by Korean Marines

in all stages of trauma. One was cooking rice on top of a loaded ammuni-

tion box and it blew, and the rest were trying to disarm a booby trap and

it detonated. Almost as pathetic was a tiny Vietnamese baby who had a

temperature of 108 for a long time. They really were working hard to keep

him going.

It’s been a busy day: busted nine, promoted three, meritorious mast

for two, one Good Conduct Medal, one psycho lost, plus the group Ad-

jutant’s Office lost my annual flight time report that I worked on for two

days and balls.

. . .

Yesterday morning, this unannounced propeller plane idles up to our

air freight area, shuts down its engines, and a huge rear door opens up.

And who is there with all his tommy gun guards and tittering girlfriends

peeking out the door but Prime Minister Nguyen Cao Ky and three-star

Lyndon B. Johnson, Executive Order 11361—Suspending a Provision of Section 5751(b)

of Title 10, United States Code, Which Relates to Officers of the Marine Corps in the

Grade of First Lieutenant, American Presidency Project, 6 July 1967.

Meritorious mast refers to a formal ceremony that a commanding officer uses to acknowl-

edge superior performance. A Good Conduct Medal can only be awarded once every three

years for outstanding service to the Corps.

July 1967

———

379

General Robert E. Cushman (III Marine Amphibious Force command-

ing general) (took over General Lewis W. Walt’s job).

Well, they had a

problem. The aircraft back there is about 16 feet high and we don’t have a

stand or steps to fit that old bird and he’s getting madder than a wet hen.

. . .

See you later, Baby. I love you,

Ray

K . L

Sunday night

9 July 1967

Hello Sweet Pie,

Not too much news to write tonight, except I’ve been thinking about you

a lot. This weekend you had some really good kids. They cleaned your

boat inside and out like little troopers, and even Kathy enjoyed the job

in the nude. Kirk kinked up the hose a lot, because it made the two main

workers so blooming mad, but he’d done his big job already, which was

to go get the boat with Uncle Don, so he figured he could harass the girls.

Natch! Well, even Uncle Don came through with a bit of coaching. He’s

been really great.

. . .

Today, we all slept late and went for a nice swim at Barton Springs.

The kids went in the springs (the deep holes) with me watching, and I

threw the plastic ring out now and then. But boy did they love playing in

those cold clear springs. You would have been proud of them there too.

They felt very big and brave.

The evening was beautiful, and we drove home from Mom’s at dusk

eating popsicles very contentedly thinking of you.

. . .

Maj Gary L. Telfer, LtCol Lane Rogers, and V. Keith Fleming Jr., U.S. Marines in Vietnam:

Fighting the North Vietnamese, 1967 (Washington, DC: History and Museums Division,

Headquarters Marine Corps, 1984), 91. Ngyen Cao Kay was chief of the Republic of Viet-

nam Air Force in the 1960s, before leading the nation as the prime minister of South

Vietnam in a military junta from 1965 to 1967. Gen Walt, known for the Marine Corps

pacification campaign and the Combined Action Program, was relieved after two years in

command of III MAF. Walt’s successors would continue to emphasize pacification as a

central component of the Marine effort in South Vietnam, especially in the heavily popu-

lated area around Da Nang.

Chapter Ten

———

380

Darling, I know this is your busy month with renewing your cards

and all, so please don’t try to write long letters. I’ve been astounded that

you’ve done as well as you have. We really are going to get hot on some

birthday goodies for you, if not homemade at least home wrapped. And if

I sell the boat, that would make a nice present, yeah?

Goodnight, Love. I miss you!

Gig

K . L

Monday

10 July 1967

Hi Honey,

Well, I guess I’ll have to buy a bike for me to match all your new ones. It

sounds like you’re running a bike exchange!

. . .

Don’t worry about what I’d do if McNamara took all our jets, and

that’s not exactly what he had in mind by the way. Hell, if you can drive a

car, you can fly a chopper as far as the aircraft is concerned. How to use it

to its utmost and keep alive is the big problem over here.

Remember Ralph Brubaker from Beeville? He got hit by a surface-to-

air missile (SAM) last week and spent the night with a badly dislocated

knee just above the DMZ in NVN [North Vietnam]. The choppers finally

got him out the next morning and he’s going back home to get his leg

fixed. What some people will do for a little R&R!

I sure am getting shorthanded. I lost two majors (and one more to

go), four captains, three lieutenants, one warrant officer, and no relief in

sight.

I just got another new dentist, dammit. I need him like a hole in

the head. And of course, the colonel’s been gone almost two weeks now.

He had been to Cubi Point in the Philippines for a week and only back

two days when we put him in the hospital. Oh, Lieutenant Colonel James

E. “Jim” Miller just checked in to the group. He still looks the same. My

six scrounged trucks arrived and one of them started up immediately with

a new battery! Wonder of wonders. Got to take a shower and sleep. I was

up until 0230 this morning, but the bastards never did hit us.

Goodnight, Darling.

MABS-13, ComdC July 1967.

July 1967

———

381

Have fun this summer!

Love,

Ray

K . L

Tuesday

11 July 1967

Dear Majority R. B.,

This is Minority G. Q. speaking. We got a large nibble on the boat this

morning, an ex-Marine no less. He called, and Robin told him I was

asleep, which whetted his appetite no doubt. He came by to see the boat

around 1100 and was “very interested” in it and wants to take it to run it

tomorrow. . . . He couldn’t figure out where all the wires went, but said

he’d never seen a boat he couldn’t figure out eventually. And also, he

had a friend who is a diver who knows a lot about boats. He even had a

license to put on it temporarily while he takes it out, since he works at the

Department of Public Safety. . . .

. . .

Your two good letters have come this week and so full of news I can

hardly keep up. I was most surprised to hear about Colonel Palmer, but

so glad he’s recuperating so fast! How wonderful to have that marvelous

ship nearby. Also, your sergeant, he sounded like a goner, and so young

for such an attack, but here he is up and about too. That’s great!

And of course, the story about the brave young men is most touching

of all. Aren’t they something! No wonder you are proud of them. I think

your question was good for him psychologically too. It shows how good a

leader you are. Of course, if you asked me that under those circumstances,

I’d just rare up and shoot you—or myself!—but then, I’m just a truthful

cowardly woman!

. . .

I was so glad to hear you’ve gotten down to the 120-days limit, since

that means in an emergency you wouldn’t have to go back. I’ve been

sweating that too, just because it’s so far to come and go and you did have

two possible emergency situations. Makes you feel a little more secure at

any rate.

Oh darn, here comes the crew back for lunch. Gotta quit for lunch.

“Un some juicy” is back.

Chapter Ten

———

382

All for now, Love,

Gigabeth Q

K . L

Wednesday

12 July 1967

Hi Honey,

Well, I’m really getting down to the dregs, when this is all the paper I can

find at the moment.

. . . I haven’t been able to fly since the colonel went to Cubi Point

over two weeks ago.

They still have tubes all over him, and he can’t really

recover beyond a basic point if they won’t let him eat. I thought he’d be

back on some of the paperwork a few hours a day. I’ll go see him shortly

and see what the story is.

. . .

Actually, this is a really rough time for me. So damn many different

things going at the same time, and many with absolute schedules that

can’t slide, like fitness reports, investigations, and awards. We haven’t

even had time to write up Colonel Owen’s Bronze Star yet and that’s no

good. He goes home in September. So, if I miss a few letters, please bear

with me as this next month is going to be a bitch. I’ll try to keep up the

same every other day, but they will be shorter letters, okay? You do so

beautifully—seven to nine pages at a whack—I can hardly believe it. And

the kids too, they sure help a lot.

It’s nighttime now and I saw the colonel. He had all the tubes out and

was out taking a shower. . . .

Whew, we just got hit by a tremendous rainstorm. It sure called things

off in a hurry and just enough warning to get all the aircraft back.

Tonight, for supper, we had liver—I took a thin one cooked hard—and

real live corn on the cob! Lord knows where they get the corn, but it was

the first corn on the cob I’ve had since I left home. It sure was good.

. . .

Karen’s birthday sounded really nice. Busy for you, but nice for her.

That’s the sort of day I really hate to miss, and I sure missed the one at

Quantico too. Well, Karen, I won’t have to do that many more times.

Naval Air Station Cubi Point was an important U.S. Navy aerial facility located at the

edge of Naval Base Subic Bay next to the Bataan Peninsula in the Philippine Islands.

July 1967

———

383

Everything happens at once around here. The rain stops, the sun

drops, the electricity goes out, and the artillery starts up. Ten minutes of

fumbling for my one and only candle stub and on comes the electricity.

I just pulled the plywood flaps (window covers) up and the sun gave out

one last flare of champagne-colored lighting to the broken-up pieces of

clouds with dark blue splotches scattered behind. Just beautiful! Awe, it’s

gone. Man, that sure was pretty with the edges of the clouds lit up like

silver with all that champagne and blue.

Well, I better go to bed after all that. I need some extra sleep anyway.

Goodnight, Darling.

I love you,

Ray

K . L

12 July 1967

Darling,

Would you believe $550 for the boat, cash? Well, that’s what I just got

from the policeman this morning. He made the offer last night, and I

was trying to hold out for more when Karen piped up in the background

and said, “Ah, let him have it, Mom,” which got me so tickled that I said,

“Well, okay.” And the man said, “Okay you want it back, or okay you’ll

let me have it?” I said, “Okay you can have it for $550 if you use the saved

$25 to get the starter checked. . . .” At any rate, he said he’d promised his

wife he would reupholster the seat if he could get me down from $575 to

$550, which he did, so everyone is happy.

Don was scared I’d not get a certified check, but since the man showed

up with cash that was no problem. I told Don I’d treat him to dinner for

his help, and I will. I had two other calls about the boat, and might have

gotten more, but I hope you’ll think this was good enough.

Oops, here’s the mailman. Oodles of kisses. . . .

Gig

K . L

Thursday night

13 July 1967

You know, babe, I just had a thought, a calendar thought, that is. I’m sure

Chapter Ten

———

384

glad it doesn’t take 13 months for a baby to be born. All of a sudden, I’m

just plain worn out from waiting for things to happen. When you add the

4 times of 9-months baby waiting, plus the 2 times of Ray waiting that

makes: 9 x 4 = 36, 13 x 2 = 26, 36 + 26 = 62 months. Five years divided by

12 is 62 months . . . 5 years and 2 months of waiting! Hmm, I wonder if

it’s all been worth it. Always a good question, or is it?

. . .

I got a wonderful long letter from you today, you bad boy. You’re not

supposed to write me that long. But I got a big bang out of your descrip-

tion of General Cushman being unloaded like supplies. Yes, I read about

Major General Ky and Cushman and, of course, his name stuck because

of your cush story! Maybe he’s the original! Ky’s rival is Thieu. Do you

know Thieu? If he arrives you can say, whew, now here’s Thieu! Cush!

Maybe P. U. would be better?

. . .

I took $10 out of the $550 boat cash and took everyone to eat last

night at Christie’s Seafood place on Town Lake. Then we all went to

Zilker Park to hear a chorale group sing and all had a fine time. It was my

thank you to Don for boat helping. Don was grateful as the company is

still on the verge of bankruptcy and every day they totter nearer, and it’s

painful! Somehow, the millionaire hasn’t come through either.

The boat money is safely in the bank today, so no more fish dinners.

We are all buying $35 winter coats for the girls, however! They look much

more attainable now that the exchequer is sweeter. What do you say, Pa,

new winter coats for all? Come on, be a big spender from the East! I’ll let

you mull that one over for a while. We have three months before we’re all

screaming. But when the heat’s gone, the heat’s going to be on.

. . .

Sincerely yours,

Miss Etc.

K . L

Saturday afternoon

15 July 1967

Hi Honey,

See what happened? I missed yesterday, and this is still going to have to be

cut short. I have to get started in my instrument exam pronto.

The colonel had his stitches out and came back to work for a couple

July 1967

———

385

of hours yesterday. That’s a big relief, and we finally got a relief in for

Major John T. Radich, my base service officer, that has been a real sweat.

They hit Da Nang last night. All the casualties so far have been Air

Force, and I’ll have to admit they do expose themselves more than we do.

I spent yesterday inspecting all our bunkers and they’re getting better but

they’re not good enough yet.

. . .

I got a call from (Da Nang) Captain Walter T. “Walt” Zinowski this

morning. I asked him what he thought of the show last night and he said,

“Spectacular and in living color.” You met him and his wife in Hawaii. He

also mentioned about 1,000 prisoners breaking out. . .

Got to get started on the instrument test, dammit. See you later,

Sweets.

Love you,

Ray

K . L

Saturday

15 July 1967

Dear Heart,

Another nice long letter from you yesterday, making it one of your best

weeks yet! Or should I say mine. . . .

I’m feeling much, much better. Mom says I’ve been being a martyr and

wouldn’t take her sleeping pills, but I had one whole night without sleep

Thursday—all that book reading had made me an insomniac—and so I

took a sleeping pill last night and just feel superb today! Sure was good to

turn off my brain at last. . . .

Seems like I’ve lectured the kids all day, so I took them swimming

and brought Kathy home for a nap. I suppose the idea of the camp makes

them livelier than ever, but it’s been like the day before Christmas here

today!

Kirk was so pleased you liked his pictures. You’re right. I worry too

much about you two understanding each other, but someday you won’t

need me as an interpreter. Still, it’s a good thing I understand boy Greek

as well as I do! Admit it! He’s developing his own radar fast though.

Telfer, Rogers, and Fleming, Fighting the North Vietnamese, 1967, 108.

Chapter Ten

———

386

Kathy has been climbing in bed with me to wake me up in the morn-

ings now that she’s out of her crib, and the others have tried, but I’ve said

a firm no. So, the only one you’ll have to kick out of bed is Kathy when

you come home. Mostly though, she just wants her wet diaper off, then

she dresses herself. Today, it was her bathing suit inside out.

The kids got invited to Baptist bible school for a day and almost

turned into Baptists on the spot. But we just didn’t show for an evening

session and did a lot of laughing at the songs, so they got the idea. Best I

get hot on some church going soon though! They are ripe converts!

. . .

Gotta close now, Love. Thanks for the belated advice on the boat’s

spark plugs. I wouldn’t know what to do with a spark plug if I saw one. I

know where the air filter on the car is now though. That’s a big old thing!

With coaching, I might pass first grade in car knowledge.

XXXs,

Gig

P.S. Kids are home. . .

K . L

Tuesday night

18 July 1967

Hi Baby,

. . . I’ve been working on the instrument exam all day long, and I’m almost

finished finally.

I know what you mean about not too much sleep at times. I have had

to get up the past five nights for various reasons, and it sure eats into your

sleep. Last night after the party at T. K. Burke’s, I had to go out and inspect

the runway and by midnight I was starved. I stopped by the chow hall and

ate beef croquettes, corn on the cob, and some kind of small hard cakes. I

felt much better. The chow’s sure to slip. The Viet Cong hit so many trans-

ports at Da Nang the other night that I’m surprised we got any mail today.

I had a young corporal check in this morning with his foot and arm

all bandaged, face cut up. He had been sleeping in the R&R temporary

housing at Da Nang when the rockets started dropping all around him.

He took off at high post running toward a bunker, blam, when all of a

sudden he was flying through the air back toward the building he just ran

out of and was blown completely through the wall with all the trash and

July 1967

———

387

everything falling in all over him. He counted the pieces and out through

the wall-less hulk of the building he stopped just a second to see if maybe

anyone else was back in the building and, kablooey, another rocket went

off in the building and the concussion threw him up against the bunker

he had been trying so hard to get to in the first place! There was some

more, but you get the gist of it. I never heard such a funny story in all my

life! And to top it off, he had spent an entire tour with the grunts on all

their operations and had never been hit, had gone back to Quantico, and

immediately requested to be sent back overseas with the nice safe air wing!

Now that’s a story for your grandchildren!

. . .

Well, super sale, that’s it for now. Chowtime and winter coats? Hell,

it’s HOT here! Tell old Bosoms, Sunflower, Red, and the Gandy Dancer

hello and kisses to all.

See you,

Ray

K . L

Friday

21 July 1967

Hello Sweetheart!

Guess where I am? Sitting at the kitchen table once more and rather glad

to be here. I drove back from Mo-Ranch all by myself, forded about 10

streams, and only got lost once. I nearly drove Mom crazy when I wouldn’t

pass a truck. I did great, ahem, ahem. It was great to come home to your

two long letters, and I hope you haven’t missed mine too much. I forgot to

take paper and only could mail one postcard when we drove into Kerrville

24 kilometers one day. So, it looks like I have a week of news to tell you.

We drove up last Sunday with Mom helping in the last-minute prepa-

rations. Got to the ranch about 1400 and got our “cabin.” It turned out

to be a stone house divided into three big apartments. . . .

It seemed so quiet that my ears rang the first day. The river was dark

green and the “slide” was too advanced for our kids. We investigated the

river the first day and really enjoyed it, but the kids had to wear life jackets,

and all we had for Kathy was a plastic ring, so we mostly played on some

steps with her as it was very deep. Then we went up to the swimming pool,

which turned out to be much better for our fishes. . . .

Chapter Ten

———

388

. . .

With no TV, no kids, no nothing, we were really on our own. We told

the kids no swimming except at 1000 and 1500 and that made our only

routine. Had to drive the car to the pool each time. Wednesday, we decid-

ed to go to Kerrville and lucked out. There was a hill country art/drama

open-air theater, which was practicing for a children’s play, so the kids had

a ball watching the rehearsals all one afternoon, and then we ate at a cute

screened-in porch restaurant overlooking the river. Very cool and delight-

ful, despite the glass of spilled iced tea. Then we went antique shopping

and found an $8 not antique green paper weight and tin elephant for Kirk.

Mom and I enjoyed that.

We also came home with rocks, driftwood and bones, and a giant

snake skin, which turned out to be armadillo skin. Each night, Mom fixed

elegant simple meals—I don’t think she trusts my cooking, but I do hers!—

and it seemed delicious because we were all starved from the open air and

swimming. Kirk always woke us up too early trying to feed Kathy, who

doesn’t seem to like his Rice Krispies! Kathy was the joy and delight and

nuisance of the trip. . . .

. . .

Then the last night, we were rained in, as a deluge closed the roads,

so we went up to the big house and watched the teenagers dance and sing.

The kids gawked and drank Cokes and Kathy’s popsicle ran down both

arms as she wiped her hands on all of us. Mom and I felt too ancient for

words, but Karen reassured me that I looked like a chaperone and would

fit in if I sat on a bench! . . .

On top of all that, we “bowled” in the alley at a lodge on the rainy day

with the kids being pin boys, and we shot pool, gouging the table nearly,

played shuffleboard, Yahtzee (a dice game), and explored a river in the

shallow part. . . .

And today, we stopped for a tour of Lyndon B. Johnson’s boyhood

home in Johnson City and a peek at the ranch. Kathy had to go “wee” in

the middle of the dignified tour guide’s speech!

I came home to my clean, defrosted icebox to find the door had been

shut and it was full of mold! Oh crunch. . . .

. . .

I missed my daily writing to you, but I was glad to have yours waiting

for me. That Da Nang shelling was awful and I’m so glad you weren’t up

July 1967

———

389

there then! Also glad to hear the colonel is back. I’m not at all surprised

that he needed food. That’s the only answer!

I know you’ll be relieved to get past your birthday. What a lousy way

to always celebrate it, taking exams, but really maybe next year will be dif-

ferent for all birthdays. I’m just so delighted to see that calendar narrow

down to three months more. It is practically getting skinny!

Must close now, Dear Heart. It’s midnight. It was a pretty lonesome

vacation without you, but we managed. I heard a jet go over the hills one

night and felt like it was you saying, “Hi there! What are you all doing?”

Well, now you know. Just trying madly to get along without you. Gosh

that’s a job!

XXXs and such,

Gig

K . L

Figure 40. Kathy, Karen, Kirk, and Robin Stice at the river on Mo-Ranch

Source: Stice family collection.

Chapter Ten

———

390

Saturday night

22 July 1967

Hi Sweetheart,

By now you’re out at Mo-Ranch, I guess. Sounds really pretty. How close

is the river? Down by New Braunfels, it is beautiful. I hope you took lots

of camp-it-yourself kits too to keep all the roaring campers busy.

I wrote Mom a letter yesterday finally. I hope it doesn’t shock her. The

next week is just going to be a headache, that’s all there is to it. For a while

yesterday, I thought the group was going to waive my instrument flight

check, but they aren’t. I have to do it tomorrow somehow.

I thought I heard something outside. It was a damn chicken, a real

live chicken pecking around the huts!

Sleeping pills? No! Suppose one of the kids was sick and you didn’t

hear it, or a fire started up, or a million things. No, you should not take

sleeping pills. When I get home, if you want to, that’s a different story.

But alone, you have entirely too much responsibility not to be able to

wake up clearly and either call a doctor or drive to the hospital yourself.

. . . Promise me you won’t until I get home, okay? If you have to rely

on pills to calm and pills to pep and pills to sleep, you don’t have a very

strong hold on life. When we’re older sure, but not yet!

I already opened the two packages from Scarbrough’s, umm, delicacy

number one. I’ve got the pralines in the ice box and the poppycock in my

locker—tremendous. Thank you or Pris or whoever in hell sent them! I

bought myself a little present. Two weeks ago, I ran out of beer, so today I

had a chance to buy six cases. I guess that’ll do for the duration!

I got a real-live headache today. I told you I was working hard. Would

you believe it’s slowly going away just writing to you?

Thank you, Babysan.

. . .

Can’t keep my eyes open much longer (sans pills, dope).

Good night, Darling.

Love you,

Ray

K . L

July 1967

———

391

Monday

24 July 1967

Dear Love,

How are you tonight, or today, whichever it is for you? Happy birthday

night or day and my very nicest thoughts to you. We sang happy birthday

to you. Did you hear us? Robin said we should have served steak tonight

in your honor, but I told her pork chops would have to be good enough!

Corn was also picked, as it is your favorite, and baked potatoes. Thanks

for liking just what I had on hand!

We all watched Gidget Goes Hawaiian after dinner, which was almost

appropriate.

Kathy got a little bored at the end and wanted to play guns.

. . .

But I’m not going to get on the subject of them tonight, except to say

that the big girls are going to Houston with Mother tomorrow for a few

days. . . . Kirk, Kathy, and I will certainly rattle around without them.

. . .

The race riot in Detroit, Michigan, is the big news here. They are

sending in 5,000 5th Army federal troops maybe.

A really hot night in

the old town tonight it seems. I sure am glad we’re safe where we are. We

really have so much to be grateful for.

. . .

Goodnight, Dear Love. I do hope the big sweat of your birthday

annuals are over and all goes well. I noticed I was missing a Monday

letter today. Guess your creative urge got hung up on a test. All is un-

derstood.

I love you,

Gig

K . L

Gidget Goes Hawaiian, directed by Paul Wendkos, starring Deborah Walley, James Dar-

ren, and Michael Callan (Culver City, CA: Columbia Pictures, 1961).

After five days, 43 people were dead, 342 injured, nearly 1,400 buildings had been

burned, and approximately 7,000 National Guard and U.S. Army troops had been de-

ployed. Hubert G. Locke, The Detroit Riot of 1967 (Detroit, MI: Wayne State University

Press, 2017).

Chapter Ten

———

392

Monday afternoon

24 July 1967

And happy birthday to you too! Yeah, I mean it really has been one—first

class—and the day’s only half over (being noon now). I got off to a late

start, went through two aircraft before we finally got started, reconned

this A Shau Valley where the bad people are building up in, then checked

in with a Cessna O-1 Bird Dog near the DMZ, shot the hell out of a Viet

Cong village we had been getting shot at from, flew instruments all the

way back . . . finished up the instrument check, and landed with fumes. I

checked in with Colonel Palmer. He wished me happy birthday and really

floored me with, “Oh by the way, several months ago, I put you in for the

Vietnamese Cross of Gallantry. Would you believe a message from RVN

Provincial Headquarters came in today and you are the proud owner of

the Vietnamese Cross of Gallantry with Silver Star.”

I thought he was kidding but he wasn’t. How about that! Man, that’s

the first one for MABS and H&MS-13 has never had one. Usually they

get a few (three or four) for each group every six months, and most of

them have gone to the gun squadrons. Well, I mean, my goodness! The

actual citation will take up to a year probably, but that’s always the case

on any award.

I sure hate to see Colonel Palmer leave tomorrow. He really has been

great for this squadron. I was always afraid we’d lose him and yet grateful

for the time we’ve had him—an honestly outstanding commander.

I’ll try to get this on the afternoon plane, so see you later, Babysan.

It’s really been a great birthday!

Love you!

Ray

K . L

Headquarters, Marine Aircraft Group 13, 1st Marine Aircraft Wing, “Foreign Deco-

ration; Case of Major Ray B. Stice, U.S. Marine Corps,” letter dated 27 July 1967, Stice

family collection.

MAG-13, ComdC July 1967, Box __, Folder 077, 1201077026, U.S. Marine Corps His-

tory Division Vietnam War Documents Collection, Vietnam Center and Sam Johnson

Vietnam Archive, Texas Tech University, I-1.

July 1967

———

393

26 July 1967

Hello no writer!

Lost your pen? Every time I get on you for not writing, the mail plane

comes in and I get two or three letters. At this interval, it has been long

enough. I’m ready, I’m ready!

Things have simmered down to a subheadache roar now. Maybe I can

get some more flying in. I haven’t flown with any real regularity for the

last two months. Colonel Richard E. Carey told me to be my own judge

about that, so these aren’t any artificial restrictions anyway.

We got a new administrative officer in yesterday. He starts out with

the Congressional Medal of Honor on down; our sergeant major has a

Navy Cross (#2); and his own brother has a Medal of Honor, so we have a

few “experienced” people around.

That stuff sure is good for the troops.

They really like to talk about that sort of thing.

Oh, my last letter was written birthday afternoon. Well to really top

things off, about 1530, Colonel Palmer came up to my desk and said,

“Ray, let’s go into Base Services” (next office). So, I grab my pen and pad

and zap, they had a goddamn birthday cake, iced tea, coffee with this

. . . thing across the cake, singing hastily “Happy Birthday.” I told them

how great they had capped off an already tremendous day, with that real

fine shooting hop, the instrument check, the Vietnamese award, and

now this!

Well, it was all very nice indeed. That Colonel Palmer was really tre-

mendous. We gave him the best change of command ceremony—had the

wing band down—we could and he’s busy finishing up fitness reports and

getting ready to take over VMFA-115 day after tomorrow.

After the cere-

mony, we had cake, pictures galore, I gave him our homemade inscribed

MABS plaque (the real ones didn’t arrive from Japan in time) and one

of the officers presented him with a chicken with a tag around its neck

saying, “I am an Eagle.” His new squadron is called “The Eagles!” All in

all, not that bad!

Stice is likely referring to Capt Muriel Davis and SgtMaj Anthony B. Kouma. MABS-13,

ComdC July 1967, 2.

MAG-13, ComdC July 1967, I-2.

Chapter Ten

———

394

Goodnight, Darling, write to me.

I love you, Honey,

Ray

K . L

Thursday

27 July 1967

Hello Dearest,

What a little family we are today! Just three of us and a lonesome little trio

we are, with all the big guys gone. We managed a few wild times, but not

any good major ones! . . .

Kirk, Kathy, and I went to the commissary Tuesday afternoon after

getting the girls off with Mom to Houston, and Randy came over that

night. Wednesday, we went downtown, and I got my ring back. That “lit-

tle” diamond cost $37.50 to replace! . . .

So glad you got the candy. Mom will be pleased. Yes, she did the shop-

ping for me on that one. The pralines are from me, and the poppycock

from her. They won’t let us mail chocolate to Vietnam in the summer. . . .

Yes, I did sell the boat by using my “power of attorney”. . . and it al-

ways scares me because I’m not sure what the fact is. You say, “Do I really

have some sort of financial control through you?” which really makes me

laugh. . . .

The “fact” is I spend thousands of your dollars. I’m your chief buying

officer and scream the loudest when the treasury gets low. I’m secretly

hoping you are building a new treasury while I’m depleting this one here.

You are, aren’t you? . . .

Mom and the girls came home today. Enjoy your “peace” there, Dear.

It’s still a madhouse here. Oh yes, I don’t have any more sleeping pills. I

sent my spare to you. Send it back! Would you believe three months and

four days? As a matter of fact, I “use” you more than you know to bolster

my spirits. This year sure seems longer than that last one. Oh well, at least

it’s getting shorter.

Really gotta go,

Gigabeth Q. Stice, Attorney in Need

K . L

July 1967

———

395

Friday afternoon

28 July 1967

Hello Dear Heart!

I seem to be a day behind with my letters. Please forgive me. . . . I felt all in,

plus Karen, Robin, Mom, and two Austin girls—Beth (11 years) and Mary

(10 years)—showed up last night, full of bubbles from their trip. Robin had

a new outfit on, and Karen had bought a toy, and they were full of stories

about their visit. . . .

We’re all going to Barton [Springs] for a picnic supper tonight. I’m

delighted to have another week filled so nicely for the kids. The days have

really been hot, no rain at all. I’ve been watering all day and wonder what

in the world the water bill will be.

. . .

Well, Mom just called regarding the picnic and was full of stories

about cancer after an afternoon of bridge playing. She gave me a lecture

about not smoking again, and I must agree with her. We must stop, some-

how, both of us. There! I’ve given you food for two thoughts—retirement

and smoking. Both lousy subjects!

No letter from you today. I figure I’m getting the silent treatment,

which I gave you the week at Mo-Ranch. I didn’t mean to, just no paper,

but you’re probably enjoying a week off from writing anyway. Not much

else to report here. I’m feeling very human tonight. This time, I just had

a bad headache. . . . Really funny that it worked that way. Just like a rain

cloud.

Bye for now, Dear Heart.

XXXs,

Gig

K . L

Friday night

28 July 1967

Hi Honey,

Okay, you’re in my good graces for a while. I got two letters from you and

two from Mom; one would have been acceptable, but two was even better!

. . .

Chapter Ten

———

396

Three days and three months don’t look all that bad, do they? First

time I really thought about it was this morning. I’ve never allowed my-

self to even talk about how much longer, let alone think about it. My

roommate Ken Baker woke up with “three more days until August” and

I blurted out “and three more months until November.” The weather we

normally associate with November is so foreign to what we have here that

it still doesn’t seem like the right month, but it is. The exact dates we will

have to “play by ear.” I should be in Da Nang close to 1 November, but it

could be as late as the 10th. Just keep an open mind on that, okay? That’s

an order, Mama. And they’re still only giving 20 actual leave days plus 4

[to] proceed and 4–7 travel. So, the total time to the new duty station,

wherever it is, would only be about a month from the day I hit the West

Coast.

I guess you had better write to the Balls [the landlord] and ask them

what they want to do about the house if we do have orders out. There is

an infinitesimally small chance I could have Naval Reserve Officers Train-

ing Corps (NROTC) or Reserve duties in that area, but exceedingly slim.

How are your finances? Pot full of gold getting slim, like me?

I’ll bet you a beer you never look at your cotton-picking envelopes,

do you? I’ve been bugging you all year long and you’ve never said a damn

word!

Sorry, Baby, I have to cut this one short. More next time.

Goodnight, Honey.

See you later,

Ray

K . L

Sunday night

30 July 1967

Hello Dear Gallant One!

What a lovely birthday surprise! I’m so happy for you! I think it is abso-

lutely marvelous and it even sounds grand! I have been happily boasting

about you all weekend, and even called Milly so she could share the fun.

The news came Saturday. The mailman was extra good to me as he

brought a check from Penn Square for $56 too! How about that? Two

good things in the same mail. I could hardly believe my eyes. I’m savoring

them both tonight. Things were a bit too busy until now.

July 1967

———

397

. . .

So, you see, it really has been too busy here to do much but keep my

head in water. Karen’s temperature is 99 degrees tonight, so I guess she’s

getting better regardless. Things should quiet down a bit now.

Milly was so full of her letter from you—my Monday letter, that’s where

it went!—that she could hardly listen to my news. You said all the right

things and she was very pleased. She told me a bit of news. Said she read

your orders in the Army-Navy Journal as 2d Marine Aircraft Wing. Neither

of us knew where that was—Cherry Point? —but she’s going to call Quan-

tico. Nothing like getting it straight! She probably will too! Quantico is

Milly’s private source of the straight poop! Mother suggested I call the Ma-

rines here and ask! I believe I can call a certain Marine and get it straight

from him instead. He’s probably already told me. . . . Well, anyway, I can

wait to hear. I’m just privately hoping it’s North Carolina because some-

one told me that South Carolina smells, is swampy, and mosquitoey. . . .

Time to close up shop here. I seem to be rambling and it’s midnight.

I’m terribly pleased about your medal. It’s such a beautiful sounding one.

Bill Austin quipped, “Did he get it for chasing girls?” Well, I’ll vouch for

that. There have been times when you have been gallant to me! Darling,

I miss you. I love you, and I’m proud of you. What more could you ask?

XXXs,

Gig

P.S. Kirk got the wibble wobbles thinking about school tonight, but know-

ing you’ll be home in November calmed him down. It is a nice thought!

———

398

AUGUST 1967

Tuesday early

1 August 1967

Hello Dear,

And good new month to you! I am writing in the morning today because

I was up quite a bit with Kathy last night. I took both Kathy and Karen

to the doctor yesterday. Both had sore throats, and Kathy had a fever of

101 degrees. It went up during the night, but she seems better this morn-

ing. Karen was hardly sick at all, but he put her on penicillin too, plus

ear drops for Robin for a total cost of medicine $10. Whew! Too much

swimming, I guess. . . .

So nice to hear about your birthday party! I’m sure a cake is always

welcome, and you had two in a row there with the colonel leaving! Sounds

like his ceremony was nice too. I bet he likes the homemade plaque better

than the one from Japan anyway. I just love your “homemade” one.

I know you were so glad to get your instrument check done too. My

what a lot did happen on that day! A day to remember.

Mom saw a 14-year-old Viet Cong being interviewed at Chu Lai by a

major on TV last night. I missed it. She said the Viet Cong said they were

all drafting all 14-year olds now. Such a sad war it is. But still a bad one,

nonetheless. I read about some Viet Cong killing 12 villagers near Quang

Ngai.

August 1967

———

399

They showed pictures of the USS Forrestal (CVA 59) last night. I was

so impressed at how fast they clean up after such a disaster and go on from

there. Really amazing.

Lots of riots in the United States these days. All over the place; not

here though, thank goodness.

The kids are all playing around this morning, waiting for me to give

them orders. I rather dread a day with no swimming and a cross Kathy.

Somebody is bound to get restless. We all played Chinese checkers yester-

day. Only one in tears afterward: Robin, who usually wins. I helped Kirk

and Karen so she felt cheated. Next time, I play all four sets of marbles at

once!

Best I close. A big whiner is standing by yelling for pants. I love you,

Dear!

Gig

P.S. I haven’t “lost my marbles” yet. But it is tempting . . .

K . L

Tuesday night

1 August 1967

Hi Baby,

Get you down to two kids and immediately you’re lonely! There’s no help

for people like you unfortunately.

My orders to the 2d Marine Aircraft Wing are in, so that’s more than

likely Cherry Point, North Carolina, but it could be Beaufort, South Car-

olina. I hear there’s several months on the housing lists at both places.

. . .

Who in hell told you not to send chocolate to Vietnam? Don’t listen

to that crap. Just have it sealed really tight, and you don’t have to tell them

exactly what’s in the stupid packages. I just wanted a couple cartons of

Hershey bars and Mounds bars (24 bars in a small carton). I thought you

would send me something if I asked you. I do have an icebox now.

Gig’s comment here seems out of line with the Navy’s official history and timeline of

events, though it is likely a reaction to news headlines at the time. Between 30 July and

11 August, the ship continued to experience flash fires. “Forrestal (CVA-59), 1955–1993,”

Naval History and Heritage Command, accessed 30 June 2023.

During the summer of 1967, more than 150 race and war riots took place across the

country. See Kelly Gonsalves, “The ‘Long, Hot Summer of 1967’,” Week, 2 August 2017.

Chapter Eleven

———

400

My eyesight dropped to 20/25 in my left eye, and I couldn’t get my

hearing checked.

I have to go back Thursday afternoon. I can still fly for

a long time, that’s the main thing. I still think your eyes are very poor and

should be checked. You probably should wear glasses when you read and

drive. . . .

I finally got to fly again today, but it was only a test hop and not a real

combat mission of any sort. I had Major Thomas K. Burke all scrunched

down in the back seat. I practically had to sit on him to get the canopy

closed for takeoff! I’d forgotten how big he is. He said he wanted a check-

out, so I really worked him out.

. . .

We finally got the fly away dates for August a couple of days ago. It’s

pretty late for that. These are the dates when people leave Da Nang for

Okinawa. They leave here the day before and remain overnight (RON) at

Da Nang. Then they spend a couple of days in Okinawa and zap on to

the West Coast.

You were right, this year is longer than the last one. First off, it’s 13

months not 12; secondly, we hadn’t had one before to remember before

like we do this time. My real concern is the kids’ school and housing.

Are you getting my letters every other day? Yours sure come in spasti-

cally. It’s just the system, not the sender . . .

Got to go. Tomorrow is another day. I’m sure of that anyway.

Goodnight, Sweet Pea. See you sooner than the last time.

Love to you, Honey,

Ray

P.S. Kiss and hug all my children, even the four bad ones!

K . L

Tuesday late

1 August 1967

Hello Love,

I got your Friday letter today and I feel very “up” on you, and I’m glad

you’re finally over the hump of my vacation lag.

Current standards for Marine class 1 aviators are for uncorrected visual acuity of no less

than 20/40 in each eye and correctable to 20/20. See Aviation Physical Standards (Washing-

ton, DC: Department of the Navy, 2017).

August 1967

———

401

. . .

Why is your “pot full of gold getting slim?” You certainly are mysteri-

ous about your finances! You’d better come home loaded, because that’s

what I’m hoping, nay, demanding. Yes, I’m feeling rosy ($1,728) but it’s

only temporary. I’m just hanging on until you get home, Dear Big Mon-

eyman. . . . Did you understand my envelope finances? This has been a

skinny year, but rich in experiences for you at least.

. . .

It’s midnight plus, Dear, so I will close. Kathy feels cool and all is well.

XXXs and such,

Gigabeth Q

K . L

Wednesday night

3 August 1967

Hello Dearest Man,

I’ve had a ladies’ night out on the town with Mom and Alberta Crawford

(age 75). We went to see Divorce American Style, a movie with Debbie Reyn-

olds, Dick Van Dyke, Van Johnson, and Jean Simmons—all “older” Hol-

lywood.

How’s that for a racy night out? I’m afraid the above actors were

all showing their age if not their maturity. There was a pretty good scene

about the trials of sharing a bathroom, and that at least hit home here!

Things are fine here. Another quiet day (i.e., no swimming). I went to

a jammed pay day commissary, got a $65 electricity bill (ouch), and called

the doctor about a shot for Kathy. He said the penicillin is working better

than shots for the types of bugs they are seeing nowadays, so no shot. She

improved as the day wore on, and the fever was all gone tonight, so I guess

it’s working. I need another bottle of medicine now.

. . .

Golly bum, there’s not much to write you about when there’s no real

action around here, and no letter to answer today. Not that I’m complain-

ing, you’ve been marvelous. Way ahead of me these last two weeks in fact.

. . .

Kirk made another model today. He’s pretty good now. He also drove

Divorce American Style, directed by Bud Yorkin (Culver City, CA: Columbia Pictures,

1967).

Chapter Eleven

———

402

us crazy with sock bombs! Swinging sock bombs that is. Have you ever

been hit with a swinging sock bomb? A sock bomb is a sock full of socks,

natch. We also got water pistoled quite a bit today. Nothing ever happens

around here.

Goodnight, Love,

Gig

K . L

Thursday night

2 August 1967

Hi Honey,

Yeah, August, how’s them apples? Getting better every month, huh? We’re

losing a whole flock of real outstanding troops this month. I hate to see

them go. They are the ones who built this place from out of the sands to

an operational reality. The men who will relieve them will never know

what they’ve had to accomplish. Fortunately, we’re never really finished.

The tents turn into huts, the lean-tos turn into shops, the huts turn into

paneled offices. Men fight and die just meters away, and the survivors

return to watch Batman on TV that night. Yesterday, one of our Grum-

man F-9 Cougars came back all shot up and bleeding red hydraulic fluid

all over the place, and today it’s ready for a test hop. It’s an odd serious

business. It’s a weird peacetime war and it’s all for real. Daily for us, every

other month for the troops.

My scrounge trucks really worked out well. People who haven’t had

wheels for a year have them now, and we have 15 more en route, then we

can really relax on that problem. We have semicommercial power to most

places (not all) and 20 Koreans who babysit and provide TLC to keep

them [generators] humming. We have a fantastic water well that several

other units borrow from and no spare well. We have charcoal broiled

steaks and chops on Friday in the club but no lettuce, cake but no ice

cream, champagne but not always beer, a TV antenna but no TV, popcorn

and no cooking oil, a huge dishwasher and no boiler for hot water. Yep,

you might say in the colloquial this sure is a half-ass war. And I’m ready

to come home too. . . .

I went to bosses’ night last night and damn near fell off the stool. I

met a Staff Sergeant Fred Stice, a real live Marine. I was half smashed to

August 1967

———

403

start with—we’d both missed supper—so we got drunk together. I finally

got some sense and left about 0130, but we sure had a time trying to fig-

ure out if we were related. He knew of some of his people who had left

southern Illinois for Oklahoma, but we couldn’t get much closer than

that. The real purpose of the “party” was to say goodbye to some of our

finer staff noncommissioned officers (NCOs) who left today, and we did

that up properly, plus it gives the others a chance to air their problems.

And some of them have problems that should be their officers in charge,

not theirs. All in all, it was a highly effective exposé. I guess I wasn’t as

drunk as I thought . . .

I have to go back to work in a few minutes. I had to call a selection

board meeting for warrant officer applicants. Seems the wing wants them

tomorrow morning. Such a good deal. I will be typing and retyping all

damn night. I missed taking my hearing test this afternoon, as I was get-

ting everything set up for the board. Maybe tomorrow.

Hey, Sweetsan, I really have to eat and run like now. We’re sup-

posed to have ham for supper, so I better get some before the mess

hall closes.

I love you, Gig,

Ray

P.S. Kiss all the GOOD children this time!

K . L

Thursday past midnight

3 August 1967

Hello Dear Man,

I just looked in our World Book Atlas and found out what time midnight

is to you there. It is 1400. Your midnight is my 1000, and your 0800 is my

1800. How about that! Your noon is my 2100, and my noon is your 0200.

I sure can’t think. I started to say think about you at noon, but I would be

getting a sound sleeper on the wire. It looks like I’m talking to you in the

Marine Air Base Squadron 13 saw significant personnel changes during the period. MABS-

13, Command Chronology (ComdC) August 1967, Box __, Folder 077, 1201077127, U.S.

Marine Corps History Division Vietnam War Documents Collection, Vietnam Center

and Sam Johnson Vietnam Archive, Texas Tech University, 2.

Chapter Eleven

———

404

afternoon, only my back says it’s midnight. Just let me know if you want

to know what time it is.

. . .

Whenever it seems like you’ve been gone a long time, I look at the kids

and think well, at least they prove he was around some days! I keep think-

ing I wish I had someone to play bridge with and that I should get out a

bit, then I realize I’m really just missing your company. I even call Mom

absentmindedly, as if what I’m looking for is over there, and she sort of

senses I don’t really have anything to say because there’s no enthusiasm in

my voice. It’s like getting the wrong person on the phone. Very confusing!

Well, I’ll be glad to have you home to set me straight again. Damn,

damn, and double damn to being apart, yeah?

Obviously as Milly would say, no letter from you to answer today,

which only makes tomorrow look brighter. Bound to be one then! I’ve

been reading Stories of Hawaii by Jack London, which are very vivid now

that I’ve been there.

He stayed near the Halekulani Hotel—the one where

we had breakfast by the sea—and mentions the Moana Hotel. Lots of sto-

ries.

I had to stop here as Kathy woke up with a fever again. I guess she

overdid it today, before she was all well. Darn. Got to keep her real quiet

tomorrow. This is her first case of tonsillitis—real one that is. I’ll call the

doctor again tomorrow. Babies sure can fool you.

Goodnight, dear.

XXXs,

Gig

K . L

Saturday night

5 August 1967

Hello Dere,

How is you? I’m sore, tired, and soaking wet, working the hell out of the

A Shau Valley. I had four flights of aircraft to control. Usually, you have

one or two and I had a very cooperative tanker fortunately. We uncovered

a whole complex of tunnels, storage areas, and bunkers—a real go hop.

Jack London, Stories of Hawaii, ed. A. Grove Day (Honolulu, HI: Mutual Publishing,

1965).

August 1967

———

405

. . .

I finally got to do some washing yesterday—23 sets of skivvies down

and only 1 to go! Pretty close, me.

I must pause for chow: roast beef, mushroom gravy, creamed corn,

lettuce for a change, milk, and jelly cake. Plus two beers before supper;

I’m full.

Would you believe you’re getting cut short for a floor show? No?

Guess again, Sweet Friend (slipped ya, didn’t I?). Not sure I can stay awake

for all of it, but I’ll start it out.

Goodnight, Honey.

See you later,

Ray

P.S. XXs to the good guys, seven bops to the bad guys.

K . L

Saturday night

5 August 1967

Hello Dear Man,

It’s midnight here, so good afternoon there! I’m on quite a kick while

you’re gone—I’m free to read late or watch TV late, although I feel pretty

lousy the next day. . . . Last night, I went to bed so stimulated by stories I

could hardly sleep, and I promised myself I’d be good tonight, but Alann

Burke, the ghastly TV interviewer, had author Norman Mailer (The Naked

and the Dead) on.

And better yet, a scientist telling about a guy named Ted

something who can make pictures of his thoughts. . . . Most interesting.

Well anyway, that’s why I am sometimes spastic about writing as you

divined. You really are a pretty good diviner all told.

I am bemused by your strange desires for me to have a bigger bosom.

Hopefully, it is just a joke made on a wife with a 13-year-old figure, who is

loved regardless! If, of course, you really harbor secret wishes that I should

do something like that to prove love, then I must conclude you need some

Alan S. Burke was a conservative radio and television talk show host from 1966 until

1970 who was known for his caustic personality. Norman Mailer, The Naked and the Dead

(New York: Rinehart, 1948).

The scientist was Dr. Jule Eisenbud and the man was Ted Serios. They worked on what

was then termed thoughtographic photography. See the Jule Eisenbud Collection, Special

Collections, University of Maryland.

Chapter Eleven

———

406

love and aren’t getting enough from me. This probably is the case, literally

and physically! That’s too bad. Your eyesight is too good when you’re away

from me. Usually when you are home, I can bemuse you into forgetting my

figure faults, but here I am miles away competing with Playgirls and losing

like mad. Well, if it’s any comfort to you, I miss the security and peace of

you near me and my body feels very incomplete and frail without you. I’m

just a girl without you—not a woman!

However, we’ve been through all this before and I’m really not too

concerned. I’m happy with the way life has turned out so far and wouldn’t

change a hair of it or you. . . .

. . .

Ray, it’s taken a lot of stubbornness and love on both our parts to

have these four [children] and I am just as amazed as you are with how

beautiful and wonderful they are. You gave me the kind of family I always

wanted but could never visualize, and you are the kind of husband I al-

ways wanted and couldn’t visualize. I think that is remarkable right there!

How many never achieve that dream.

. . .

Hey, see what a letter from you does to me? I hadn’t had one since

Monday, and you fairly leapt out at me! That picture was, well, not my

favorite haircut! Would you please let some of those darling gray hairs

show? I love gray hair on men! I also love weather-beaten men. The young

ones don’t thrill me anymore. . . .

I do not feel old yet, but I do want to settle down soon. These other

lives are a bit too lively to bounce around with much longer. They are

getting so big, and I do hate complicated things, like housing and schools.

That is lousy news about housing in North Carolina and that is exactly

what I hate. . . .

Oh well, I guess we shall all manage. Things do have a way of work-

ing out, and I think at least we won’t have diapers on this trip. The kids

scoffed at leaving Kathy behind. After all, we didn’t leave her behind

when we went to Virginia! All for one and one for all and me for bed.

Monday, Scout, you get your package worked up. This is the first time

you’ve been specific!

Hang on to that raunchy skin. Dial soap will be on the way.

Kathy is all well, and everything is fine and, in case you really won-

dered, no! I will NOT GET MY BOSOMS LIFTED. Perish the thought.

August 1967

———

407

They remain delicately yours—SMASHED.

Broadly speaking, however,

the rest of this broad is still in working order. So! Dream on, McDuff. I’m

right with you.

Goodnight, Love,

Gig

K . L

Monday

7 August 1967

Hello Sweet,

I was just starring at the officers’ club picture and noticed there weren’t

too many pilots in the group. I counted about five in the picture, and they

all seem to have the cool-eyed look about them. Like, “Where’s the run-

way?” “I got it, now hold it right there.” That is what you say, isn’t it? . . .

Since we had already lugged the TV to the repair shop—it blew a tube

I guess yesterday—and we had antique shopped a bit at old cane chairs (6

for $70, no thanks) we were all hot and tired.

We spent the afternoon putting up the bulletin boards. It was quite

a process, as they had to drill holes, and wire and hang them themselves,

plus hunt for treasures to put on the boards. It filled the whole afternoon,

as I had to run around exclaiming how great they all looked.

Then there was dancing and exercises and chasing and dinner after

that. Imagine, a whole day with NO TV. I’m exhausted.

Tomorrow, we go to get it back. I have another upside-down sprinkler,

and I can’t find the guarantee. I just about don’t give a damn. . . .

Gotta go to bed. I can’t seem to hold my head up. Aren’t we a pair?

I hope things are going well with you. The letters do seem to be coming

in slower now for you too. But I’m glad to hear you’re writing them re-

gardless.

Goodnight, Lovesan,

Gigabeth Q

The first known breast augmentation surgery took place in 1962. See Christodoulos

Kaoutzanis et al., “The Evolution of Breast Implants,” Seminars in Plastic Surgery 33, no. 4

(November 2019): 217–33, https://doi.org/10.1055/s-0039-1696985.

Chapter Eleven

———

408

That was a goodie letter I wrote Sunday, wasn’t it?

P.S. It’s 100 degrees here every day!

K . L

Tuesday night

7 August 1967

Hi Honey,

Got your two Tuesday letters today. . . .

When does school start? To me, the summer is really just getting start-

ed good.

I could have stayed home from that floor show Sunday night. It was a

Filipino act, and they didn’t have too much life in them after their third

show.

. . .

Damn, do you realize it’s been five cotton-picking months since we

were in Hawaii? Seems like maybe last month or maybe two, but not five!

. . .

Oh, guess who’s here over at Marine Aircraft Group 12 (MAG-12)

next to the beach—Major Ray E. Bright in all his glory. One quick hand-

shake, a grin, and off he goes. Well screw him, he never was really friendly.

. . .

I’ve got one of the finest Negro (second lieutenant) officers in the

world as our crash crew officer. His name is Ed Hicks—Edwin Quintard

Hicks—I call him “Uncle Ed.” . . .

It’s about that time, Baby, to take a shower and catch the last couple

of reels of the flick, hit the runway, and go to bed! It’s still hot—103 de-

grees in the shade!

Goodnight, Darling.

Love YOU,

Ray

K . L

Wednesday

9 August 1967

Hello Dearest,

My bloodshot eyes did behold a letter from you today—a sort of drunk

out tonight letter but deservedly, so I guess from the real “go” hop—you

August 1967

———

409

summed it all up in one paragraph so fast I swear! You’re becoming a jet

talker. . . .

. . .

Today was beastly hot again, so we didn’t go for a swim until 1700

with Liz and Sarah, and then we had her over for supper. She left about

2000 and Mom came over to fit a dress on Robin. Mom is suddenly dis-

covering the art of sewing for her granddaughters.

. . .

The kids are having a draggy month so far. Their friends are out of

town, and they are lonesome and watch too much TV. It got fixed to the

tune of $22, did I tell you? We’ll all be glad when school starts. August is

the worst month in Texas. Rather like a winter month up north.

Mom and I never fight anymore, and it’s so peaceful we can’t get over

it. I could wish our marriage would get that peaceful. Do you suppose it’s

possible? It would be nice. If only things will break even for us for a while.

Figure 41. 2dLt Edwin Q. Hicks (seated, second from left) with Col Palm-

er (center), Maj Stice (right of Palmer) and the rest of the unit

Source: Stice family collection.

Chapter Eleven

———

410

We could use some good deals.

. . .

Gotta go to bed, Love.

Mille [thousand] XXXs

K . L

Friday

11 August 1967

Hello Dearest,

You know really it is kind of amusing the way we try to answer each oth-

er’s letters and half the time I can’t remember what I wrote you unless it

was something big like someone sick and you probably don’t know which

of your letters I’m referring to either. I’ve about decided we need carbon

copies.

. . .

Do you know—do you know—I haven’t had a cigarette since last night?

It’s hell at the moment. I ran out and told the kids to guard me and maybe

I’d stop. They chased me around this morning and crumpled up three cig-

arettes. Kirk went up to get some because he couldn’t stand my suffering,

but I forgot to say how much and he only took 25 cents. So, I’m still on

the wagon. Writing you is a test. But it’s hard!

. . .

School registration is 31 August, but school starts on 6 September (To

answer one of your questions.) . . . .

. . .

I am really out of cigarettes. That is my problem.

I’m sleeping awfully well of late. That’s sure a help. I feel fine at any

rate. Every plus helps. Would you believe, I think I’ll go get some ciga-

rettes? It’s 1330. Whew! I’m having a nicotine fit.

XXXs,

Gig

K . L

Friday night

11 August 1967

Hi Baby,

If you don’t object to a slightly stinky letter, fine. If you do, read no more.

August 1967

———

411

I would rather have you get something than nothing, so bear with me and

we’ll have a post-happy hour chat. I darn near flipped at you looking up in

the World Atlas the different time zones. It’s 2115 Friday night here. What

time is it there?

Nothing worse than seeing former students from Beeville who are

flying better than you are. It’s quite a letdown frankly. And the guy I saw

tonight wasn’t even particularly a good student. So where does that grab

you? About the only good news he had was that Major Ray Fortmeyer was

over at MAG-12, holding hands with Ray Bright.

Today, our chaplain [Lieutenant Commander Wayne L. Niederhuth]

just got back from Dung Ha. He went aboard a landing ship, tank (LST)

and went out about 14 miles at sea and held services for Major Ray Pend-

ergraft and Captain David Glenn Spearman. They both wanted a burial

at sea if it could be arranged, and although I’ll admit I almost choked

reading the summarization of the ceremony, it sounded like the chaplain

did everything he possibly could. Even getting shot at by the Viet Cong

waiting for the high tide to pull out from the Dun Ha River and out to

see where they went in.

They sure have been stupid about hitting us. I would have hit here

1,000 times to their one. Maybe they have to have everything just too

much set up. They are real planners you know, sand boxes and the whole

bit. They practice a hit 80 times before they do it and, if the tide and

weather is right, that’s the catalyst and off they go, regardless of the other

circumstances whatever they may be. . . .

Tomorrow, I’m not quite sure what the deal is, but Major Phillip

“Phil” Jacobs and I are having our pictures taken at 0530. We flew togeth-

er yesterday—reconned from Khe Sanh down through the south to the

northern end of the A Shau Valley and then finally found the valley itself

and reconned the center and south end. There was an Air Force Cessna

O-1 Bird Dog that had held off the artillery while we worked the valley

and, at the end, he said if we were through reconning we could hit the

bridge and four automatic weapons positions next to A Shau airport. We

finally picked it out, made a 7-G run under the clouds, wherein I almost

blacked out. We got some pretty good battle damage assessment (BDA)

for an F-9 (probable damage), destroyed the bridge, and damaged one

automatic weapons position. We had to hustle about 200 kilometers back

home through the swamp, and damned if a Douglas A-4 Skyhawk hadn’t

closed the main runway here at Chu Lai. We finally begged and pleaded

Chapter Eleven

———

412

and got in and trapped (arrested) a MAG-12’s aluminum strip in the rain.

Not sure what kept the remaining rocket from leaping out of the pod, but

it stayed in. Interesting hop overall, I guess we hit the “highlights in the

BDA” that day, so this guy wants to take a picture. So, if you see something

stupid, it’s me and Phil Jacobs.

Right now, it’s late and, drunk or not, it’s time to go to bed and take

a shower. So, if you don’t mind, I’ll see you sooner and get some sleep

like now. I know you don’t hate me drunk, but you never did like me too

much either. That’s fine as tomorrow I’m sober and I’ll still love you any-

way, so there. And I love you regardless—dead or alive.

XXXs yourself!

Ray

K . L

Saturday afternoon

12 August 1967

Hello Dear Man,

I’m writing you in blissful peace. Not a child within spitting distance.

It’s the kind of Saturday afternoon we love with windows open, a nice

breeze, lots of sunshine but only in the 80s. Kathy is asleep and the kids

are at a University of Texas play with Mom. Heavenly! I’m supposed to

be washing my hair, but I’d rather write you. Yes, I’m smoking and, yes,

coffee.

Fall is somehow in the air already and I have fall fever and just want

to watch the leaves and listen to a plane drone over. I’m sleeping like a

bear these days, except for an occasional cocked ear for burglars. House

noises and burglars are the same. They both give me shots of adrenaline.

We all had a great evening last night at the drive-in movies—Karen,

Robin, Kirk, and I. Kathy spent the night with her grandmother! We went

to see Born Free, about a tame lion who had to be taught to be wild, and

Georgy Girl, about a rather strange English girl. The last was too adult for

the kids to understand, but I enjoyed it. And Born Free was wonderfully

educational about life in Africa. . . .

Born Free, directed by James Hill, starring Virginia McKenna and Bill Travers (Culver

City, CA: Columbia Pictures, 1966); and Georgy Girl, directed by Silvio Narizzano, starring

James Mason and Lynn Redgrave (Culver City, CA: Columbia Pictures, 1966).

August 1967

———

413

A SHAU VALLEY MISSION PRESS RELEASE

Chu Lai, Vietnam, Aug. 20—The F-9 Cougar jet was designed as a fighter, then utilized

as a trainer. Used in Vietnam as armed reconnaissance jets, the four Cougars of Marine

Aircraft Group-13 still get involved in a lot of action.

Majors Phillip M. Jacobs, Hunt, Ark., and Ray B. Stice, 2618 Spring Lane, Austin,

Tex., had completed a reconnaissance mission August 10 over Ashau valley, 30 miles west

of Phu Bai, when they were called on a target by an Army airborne controller at the north

end of the valley.

The two Marine Air Base Squadron aviators made a “dry run” on a bridge, establish-

ing their approaches and spotting the target. They received heavy machinegun fire during

the run.

“We made the only two runs on the target, but you have to remember the Cougar we

have here in Vietnam is used primarily for reconnaissance, and is not heavily armed. All

we had with us was six 5-inch rockets and out two 20mm cannon,” said Jacobs.

The two majors were credited with destroying the bridge, the automatic weapons

position and killing its four-man crew.

Force Information Office, III Marine Amphibious Force, Military Assistance Command Vietnam,

“1st MAW Release No. 900,” Release No. 2461-67, Da Nang Press Center, 20 August 1967.

Maj Ray Stice and Maj Phillip Jacobs in front of their F-9 after a mission west of Phu Bai

on 10 August 1967

Source: official U.S. Marine Corps photo #70114.

Chapter Eleven

———

414

. . . These last three months instead of being the worst, are really the

best because there’s you to look forward to and I can work around that.

I think you are beginning to get the same feeling. However, why do we

move every time we meet? Just when I get things fixed for you, they get all

geehawed again. . . .

The biggest problem really is that housing bit again. I really think we

should fly out and get that solved before we pack the crew up. Mom could

keep them at her house and in school until we’re ready for them. Is it a

three-year tour? If so, we could buy a house, a car, an icebox, a stove, a-a-a!

Duh.

. . .

I’m going to a Vietnam waiting wives luncheon next Wednesday.

That should be nice. I missed the one last month.

Nothing else really newsy. . . . All for now, Dear One.

Many kisses,

Gig

K . L

Sunday

13 August 1967

Hello Dearest,

Everybody else is writing you, so I might as well too! It’s a Sunday after-

noon and the windows are still open—an amazing fact in August—and

it still gives the most peaceful sensation. No machines going except the

sprinklers. . . .

The noise volume just went up two decibels. Kathy woke up crying,

and Karen is scolding Kirk. That’s more normal. . . .

Monday morning, I had to quit there to take them for a swim as it was

1630 and getting late. We went to a pool with Liz and Sarah, then home,

and after dinner as I was putting Kathy to bed and the hall light went click

and . . . guess what? The light bulb is full of water, which means the air

conditioner, having been off for three days, defrosted and overflowed and

caused a short! Golly bum, this is the second time for that. . . .

It’s trash day and kids are getting up, so I’ll close. Looks like I’ve got

The term geehawed refers to someone or something moving in a zigzag way, harking back

to the term gee, turn right, and haw, turn left.

August 1967

———

415

some work to do! All my love and tune in tomorrow to, As the Air Condi-

tioner Turns!

XXXs,

Gig

K . L

Tuesday noon

15 August 1967

Hi Baby,

And how is it yet? We’ll find out more shortly.

I guess if you say I sold one bond for a boat and one for a car, then I’m

guilty as charged. However, I do recall I got 90 percent of the car money

back, and you yourself got 80 percent of the boat money back, so watch

your allegations, ma’am. Your second answer was most correct. It all goes

to the same pot regardless of who’s name it’s in or in what shape or style

it’s in.

Ugh, I got caught with my chin down looking at the gauges, and

Phil Jacobs up front all of a sudden started pulling 7 cotton-picking Gs.

Damn neck will take a month to unscramble. Felt like an idiot. . . . Some

Viet Cong had one of our recon teams almost surrounded, and we had

to shoot pretty close to the friendlies. As we were leaving, another flight

Figure 42. Cartoon illustrat-

ing the pilot’s struggle with

G forces

Source: Savage, Stice family col-

lection.

Chapter Eleven

———

416

took over, and they were in pretty good shape. Not a bad morning’s work.

. . .

I’m writing at noontime because tonight we’re having a sayonara

[good-bye] party for Marine Fighter Attack Squadron 314 (VMFA-314),

and we’re all putting on skits. . . .

I used the girls’ bonds, rather than Kirk’s on purpose. Psychologically,

they should be prepared to realize it’s generally the man that actually is

permitted to make the money per se, but if Kirk can’t handle the load,

then we’ll sell it too. Okay, Daughters, en garde! Zap, zap—sliced you while

you were making up your minds! Have to be quicker than that to out fox

the fox!

Well, see you all later. Be good and have fun or vice versa.

Love,

Ray

K . L

Tuesday

15 August 1967

Hi!

Don’t you lub dub me, you rubber neck! Flattery will get you nowhere.

That’s the world’s lousiest trick to make me do the move, and you know

it. But the luck of it is, that seems to be the only solution to me too. Any-

thing else would cost a mint. But at least this way, I can blame it on you.

And I do! I do!

I talked it over with mi madre [my mother], the world’s most sensible

woman, and she thinks 1 November would be a good moving date. I was

thinking of stalling until 15 November. Lucky for you, we aren’t thrown

out into the streets. Because of her kindness, we have two weeks or so

before hitting the highways. But from then on, Dear Heart, you’ve got us,

lock, stock, and whines.

Seems a shame you can’t enjoy this house for a little bit though. It

would be nice for sorting gear and reassimilating you.

. . .

VMFA-314, ComdC August 1967, Box __, Folder 098, 1201098054, U.S. Marine Corps

History Division Vietnam War Documents Collection, Vietnam Center and Sam Johnson

Vietnam Archive, Texas Tech University.

August 1967

———

417

Had a crazy day yesterday. A woman with three kids came to inquire

about the house across the street, and I tried to interest her in this one,

while seven kids roared around. Then I lost my car keys and found them

again (Kathy) and various other little stirring events.

. . .

I remain your stunned wife, who has to make a move all by herself,

and boy is she telling the world and the sympathy is just oozing in. Being

a real martyr is even more fun than being a make believe one!

And what have you done lately for the good of your poor little suffer-

ing wife and family?

Hrumph!

K . L

Wednesday night

16 August 1967

Hello Dearest,

I got your very big fat, fat letter all about your very good fat, fat hop

and felt very, very good that I got such a nice letter while you were in an

expansive mood. That’s expansive not expensive. If that’s what it takes to

loosen your tongue, rave on! I mean, drink on! Sounds like you certainly

deserved a drink that night and you were sweet to think I deserved a letter.

You don’t think I deserved a letter? Well, that’s true, but at least I made a

good listener. And when you get back, you’ll probably enjoy reading that

letter again.

I saw films of the A Shau Valley tonight on TV and can understand

what the big problem is now. That’s quite a road they have there. TV said

they manage to use it regardless of all the bombing too, so it’s more than

just a little problem.

There’s some other battle brewing below Da Nang too, but that’s the

extent of my intelligence tonight!

I’m delighted to hear about your picture being taken! I got mine tak-

en today too—a “set-up” picture where, for publicity of waiting wives, they

showed a group of us admiring a princess ring and talking about it. Guess

what I said in a silly mood to make the girl laugh—“Mine is bigger!”—

would you believe, she didn’t crack a smile. But I thought it was hilarious!

Chapter Eleven

———

418

Because I told the truth, and she wasn’t quite sure if I was joking or not.

That’s what she gets for boasting! Poor dear. That’s life. I almost gave it

away though when I let it slip that you got mine in Okinawa, I thought, or

was it Thailand? She didn’t know quite what to make of me!

. . .

The kids are all fine. Oh yes, before I talk about them, one more thing

about Vietnam wives . . . a Red Cross director said he was going to mail a

big bunch of paperback magazines to all the husbands for them to distrib-

ute to any and all. The money for postage came from collecting $55 from

old folks who saved newspapers for salvage. So, we all gave our husband’s

names, and you will get some in the future! I guess you can send them

over to your library.

We also heard a speech about mental health, so we can all be beauti-

fully mentally healthy when you all come back!

. . .

Goodnight, Love, and why was I the only one at the luncheon with

orders to move out by myself? The others are going to wait for their hus-

bands. Say the word and I’ll wait too. LUB DUB. No, as a matter of fact,

there were only three Marine wives, and one has orders to Pendleton,

California, for the third time and said her welcome aboard stuff and said

the name goes on housing from overseas date of departure, and a man

doesn’t have to be at the duty station. How come a second lieutenant wife

makes me look so dumb?

I stuck to my guns and urged her to move out early like I’m going to

do. How’s that for misery loves company?

P.S. Some people like me are so screwed up, there’s only one way to un-

screw them. I’m ready, I’m ready!

K . L

Thursday night

17 August 1967

Hi Baby,

Started out bad yesterday with a flat tire and a slight hangover from

VMFA-314’s party, which we started off with a bang. I finally got to fly,

carrying 38 rockets on each of the 2 F-9s and, after staggering around the

mountains, clouds, and airborne refueling for nothing, nothing, noth-

August 1967

———

419

ing. We finally got a secondary mission. Troops pinned down by the Viet

Cong needed help badly. Had a fine “Jake 7-4” (Air Force Bird Dog) con-

troller. Good shooting on both parts—only they missed us. We got 10 of

them, plus 5 buildings destroyed and 1 secondary explosion (ammo dump

or something). That’s the best BDA I’ve ever seen in an F-9, more like one

of the McDonnell Douglas F-4 Phantom IIs in one of their spectacular

ordinance deliveries. They carry 40 times what we can carry. Well, it was

a right fine hop all around.

Today, we couldn’t coax a secondary out of the six different control

centers all up and down the I Corps! One thing we’ll never get flying F-9s

will be the DFC (Distinguished Flying Cross)—tons of Air Medals but no

DFCs. Even Major Robert L. Gondek was in for a DFC.

I saw that flick Born Free. I knew the kids would like it and I’m sure

glad you took them to see it.

Well, you’re right, moving does recreate old problems—babysitters,

cleaning and ironing help, and schools—and worse yet, the entire bit is

one huge pain in the ass.

You know for almost a year now you’ve been signing your letters

“XXXs” and “many kisses.” When the hell do we get beyond that stage?

. . .

That’s what marriage is, helping each other solve the other’s problems.

. . .

Well, anyhoo, it’s late and tomorrow IS another day.

See all of you and you all later,

Ray

K . L

Friday morning

18 August 1967

Darling,

Just a note this morning, as I am in the middle of a flood of newspapers

and magazines. Literally! The kids are collecting. It all started yesterday

when they raked a yard with Walt Penn and came in very discouraged as

they didn’t get paid. They weren’t asked to rake, they just did it. They were

trying to think of jobs to get money and I told them about the $55 the

Red Cross man got for collecting newspapers and they went wild with en-

thusiasm. It was hot and humid, but they made quite a haul. In between

Chapter Eleven

———

420

hauls, it poured rain and they all got cooled off running around in that,

and at 2000, I turned off dinner to drive up and get a “gold mine” that

Kirk had found.

. . .

I got another nice letter from you yesterday, and I like those big sheets

of paper!

No thank you to Kirk fixing the sprinklers. They are far beyond his

scope and yours too! Right now, the big problem is a leaking roof in the

little room off the den. The rain did that and I will have to do something

about getting it repaired and notify Mrs. Ball as per our contract.

I liked all your comments about your beautiful children. You do say

all the right things, and I roared at your white hairs popping out in the

sunlight. Don’t say I gave them to you!

Must close now and do something about four kids and 500 pounds

of magazines. How would you like to have that for a problem? Fine. You

can have them!

XXXs and white hairs,

Gig

K . L

Saturday afternoon

19 August 1967

Hi Baby,

It’s about noontime and I just got down from a real good hop—choppers

getting shot at in a landing zone—and I just happened to be at the right

time and the right place with the right fuel and ordinance. These things

are so damn chancy. You can never plan on them, but they sure are nice

when you get them. As a matter of fact, they want our picture again for

Wednesday’s hop I told you about. It happened to be written up in both

the group and wing daily highlights.

Last night, it was cool enough to sleep without a fan, and the mosqui-

toes were such that I didn’t have to use a net—not that bad. After all our

hard work on the Dial soap, I’ve discovered that Lifebuoy really gets after

these minor skin irritations even better, and I can buy that here fortunate-

ly. I’m halfway presentable already.

Those snapshots of the kids at Mo-Ranch are really cute. Next time,

get a little CLOSER. And many thanks to Pris for the copies. The place

August 1967

———

421

looks very pretty. Sure glad you went there. Little local R&R for the kids.

Slow but surely, we’re building a church—bars first (clubs I mean)—

one of these days I’ll have to go.

The last church I really enjoyed was

there in Omaha. I was beginning to like it.

. . .

About the move. Agree, 1 November would be a good day to move,

and you don’t have to pay the rent in October for November because you

won’t be there or in September because we already paid the “last” month

before we ever moved in, remember? Well, I do and it’s right. You have

already paid your last rent. I’m counting on that $400 to help pay for the

trip to Cherry Point.

Anyway, don’t save anything out for me. I’ll have too much to start

with, with all my uniforms. Matter of fact, save me a hole in the car please?

I’m going with you all!

Ha, you think I need rehabilitating, how about you? And the kids, I

guess we all have our work cut out for us. Hmm. Wait until the first time

I swear at Kathy. Oh brother, I can just hear her now, “Top that!”

Well, it’s late and I better “top this,” take a shower, and get some

sleep. I’m sure I have the early hop tomorrow.

Goodnight, Honey.

Love YOU!

Ray

K . L

Sunday night

20 August 1967

Dear Love,

How are you? Me, I’m not so sure . . .

I don’t think I’ve written for two days, but I can’t remember. When I

don’t write you, I lose my sense of time and everything sort of floats along.

I’ve told everybody three or four times that the kids only got $1.24 for

their magazines. Somehow, this depressed me more than it did them. It

was so much work and so heavy for all of us and then only $1.24. Another

day, another dollar. Wow, that was us.

. . .

MABS-13, ComdC August 1967, 3.

Chapter Eleven

———

422

We’ve been working on a puzzle and the kids have made potholders

and we went to see a Walt Disney movie today and had dinner with Mom

and Don later. . . .

Don was back from a Fort Worth, Texas, barbershop

quartet contest—they won. He finally had a date with a gal I’ve been urg-

ing him to take out and, when I asked how was she, he said, “Fine, if you

like Japanese girls.” Which is okay and made me laugh and shut up.

The rain was great and much needed, though the yard is looking puny

from pill bugs and crabgrass.

I’ve just finished reading two Look magazines and my respect for that

magazine has gone up. But then, they are the only two magazines in the

house! The locusts cleaned me out.

Kirk was disappointed when he didn’t get to go see Barefoot in the Park

last night. Jane Fonda is too raunchy for them I decided.

He pouted, I

blew, and then we made up. Poor dear, he had taken a bath and combed

his hair in anticipation! He sure looks nice when slicked up that way. . . .

Kathy is coming out with new words every day and said, “You’re na-

kid!” the other night as I put her to bed. I acted properly horrified. At

breakfast, her first words were, “Are you happy, Mama?” How’s that for an

early morning eye opener? Duh, yeah, like happy baby. She likes to look at

your pictures and we have to sit on the floor when we do it. She directs,

I sit, that means she wants to talk about them. You have a devoted little

girl baby.

Lots of other tidbits about the kids but they’ll have to wait for tomor-

row. I’m out of steam tonight.

I miss you so much it’s stupid and not good sense. But at least I’ve

learned to sleep it off, and that’s a help in the morning! One thing I no-

ticed about me today, I’m getting a pudge that even I notice in the middle

and I weigh 110 pounds! It really is time you came home and blasted me

off my duff. It might help? Tomorrow, I shall swim the length of the pool

and no more eating off Kathy’s plate.

XXXs to you too,

Gig

Based on the date, the movie could have been The Gnome-Mobile, directed by Robert

Stevenson (Burbank, CA: Walt Disney Productions, 1967).

Barefoot in the Park, directed by Gene Saks, starring Robert Redford and Jane Fonda

(Hollywood, CA: Paramount Pictures, 1967).

August 1967

———

423

K . L

Monday

21 August 1967

I just got down from what could have been a fine hop—Viet Cong in the

open—but I only had enough fuel for one run, we were on the wrong tar-

get, and I had to head for home. There was no tanker up for some reason.

I swear the guy I joined up on (in a Vought F-8 Crusader) was Lieutenant

Colonel Roger D. “Bucky” Walters. It sounded just like him. A hell of a

place to see a friend up north of the DMZ. Anyway, I just couldn’t stay

another minute without refueling, and we had both picked out the wrong

Bird Dog controller—frustrating. I thought I heard him yesterday too. The

way things are going, I’ll end up with just over 150 combat missions; none

of the test hops and admin runs count for anything. The average man in

tactical squadron has more at about 200. I have about 124 as of today.

That’s more than Lieutenant Colonel Arthur A. “Art” Nelbach got, and

he spent half of his time in a squadron.

Wednesday night, I was going to Da Nang and then Thursday I

was going to Bangkok to do some shopping, but the bit (jet set says the

“DELT”) fell through, so maybe next month.

. . .

I have succumbed to 15 November too. I tell you what, I’ll leave it up

to you. If you want to stay until the 15th, it’s okay with me. I probably

won’t get to leave here until 3 or 4 November anyway and one day in Da

Nang plus anywhere from one to three days in Okinawa. It really is hard to

say exactly which day I will get home, and believe me I really won’t know

until after each day is over, just how far I’ve gotten. . . .

Oh, before I miss it, thanks for the soap, Hershey bars, and Mounds—

nothing quite ever hit Chu Lai like that!

Thanks to you phantom shoppers, I’ll probably have the only real live

chocolate in Vietnam.

So, 15 November is the date; Austin is the place; and you are the one

and only for me.

Goodnight, Sweetheart,

Ray

K . L

Chapter Eleven

———

424

22 August 1967

Dear Heart,

I seem to have just bought a new refrigerator. How about that? I’m still

a little stunned, so we’ll be stunned together. It cost $329, and it is a 17-

cubic foot Gibson.

The cost was $335.55 with tax, all told though.

. . .

I hope you’ll approve and that it works out all right in the next place

we go. If it doesn’t, well, that’s just the way it goes. Done is done. It does

put the exchequer down a bit, like we’re reading $1,039 now. And rent

time is rolling around so that’s $1,039 - $200 = $839 + $363 = $1,202! I

guess we’ll make it. I’d like to do some other things too, but you wouldn’t

let me, like deciding on a washing machine for $239 or getting some new

towels and some furniture. A thousand little things, a thousand could do!

It’s definitely house upkeep time. We could use new mattresses for the

girl’s beds and a new queen-size bed for us. . . .

Now, to other matters, I’ll admit my XXXs endings haven’t been too

inspiring, but my inspiration (you) hasn’t been around, so I’ve sort of

got those emotions locked up. Yours seems to be roaring along in high

fashion, and I’m amazed I’m the object of so much emotion. Was I that

good in Hawaii? Well, simmer down, Love, it’s just me over here. Still the

imperfect wife and more mother than wife at the moment, so let’s face it

kisses are the only commodity in stock around here at the moment! It does

take a husband for me to be a wife you know! It also takes two blankets to

get me warm enough to sleep, which should prove something. But at any

rate, you should be glad I can manage without you, because think how

awful it would be if I couldn’t manage without you? As it is, I flub all over

the place, blubbering about what heck it is without you, and if I did it any

more than I do, you’d really begin to worry about me!

I’m just pleased as punch that you’re able to do your job so well and

not worry about me. That’s exactly the way I want it. Anybody who goes

around with a 300-pound head has enough to do holding his head up. I

do believe that 300 pounds was the refrigerator landing on you. How did

you guess? Well, it’s done landed, and I’m going to be in seventh heaven

Originally established in the early 1900s, and after several mergers and acquisitions,

Gibson was bought by the Electrolux Group in 1986. Refrigerators are now manufactured

under the Frigidaire brand name.

August 1967

———

425

with it and awfully pleased to show it off to you when you come home.

Your hops sound great and I’m really proud of them. . . . Just keep

being nice and careful. That’s the main thing to me. Enough, enough, are

you satisfied? No? Well, that’s all I can womp up at the moment. You can

zap me later.

XXXs once again yet!

Gig

K . L

Wednesday

23 August 1967

Hi Dear One,

Don’t expect any more great openers like in yesterday’s letter. One doesn’t

buy a refrigerator every day. It’s still not here though, as Bill C. [family

friend] is out of town and I have to get his out first. Now I’m itching to

get the new one in though.

We spent a quiet day here. Kirk was “working” all day with two back-

yard neighbor boys looking for “fossils” in a construction spot. . . .

. . . . All the kids need shoes and supplies among other things.

I will miss them so when they are back at school. Some days, I’ve had

eight kids in and out of the house! . . .

The TV show The Fugitive is finally going off the air and the doctor’s

brother-in-law did it, not the one-armed man!

We’ll know for sure next

week. Mom was quite excited about that. I was more interested in watch-

ing an exposé about The Hippie Temptation, but decided the kids shouldn’t

see that. . . .

I reread your letter about your raid on the ammo dump, buildings,

and the Viet Cong and it really was quite a hop and quite a BDA! Mom

and I want to know if BDA is Bird Dog Assessment. What does the B

stand for? . . .

It’s a bit cooler these days, so maybe fall really is around the corner. I

The television show The Fugitive was originally released in September 1963 on ABC

about Dr. Richard Kimble who was wrongly convicted of the murder of his wife. The show

ended in August 1967 after four seasons. It was remade into a feature film in 1993 and

starred Harrison Ford and Tommy Lee Jones.

The Hippie Temptation was a CBS news special hosted by Harry Reasoner that explored

the 1960 hippy culture and the Haight-Ashbury psychedelic LSD scene.

Chapter Eleven

———

426

do have the feeling that life will be picking up in a few weeks and I wonder

if I’ll be ready for the change. The kids are definitely ready.

This sure doesn’t seem one of my more thrilling letters. . . . You said

to say, “Let it all hang out” but golly, what do you want to do. . .

XXXs anyone?

Gig

K . L

Friday

25 August1967

Hi Dear One!

I guess I jumped the gun a bit. I just called Bill and he doesn’t want the

old icebox until 10 September, so I’m stuck with it until then. Isn’t that

silly? I got a new box, and I can’t even play with it for two more weeks. I

would have had time to write you and have you scream no. But just think,

I spared you all that. . . .

Say, you laughable man, you really shake me up too, don’t you? What’s

all this about using the “remaining” $400 for the trip to Cherry Point.

First off, is it really Cherry Point? That’s the first time you named it. Be-

fore it was either/or North Carolina-South Carolina. You might keep me

up to date if it is Cherry Point. And if so, for how long and doing what?

Youth wants to know.

Secondly, here I am counting on you returning flush with $3,000 to

$4,000 saved in the wilds of South Vietnam and you’re counting on my

$400 in the civilized spend-it-all culture of Austin, Texas, USA? Are you

out of your mind? Let me refresh your memory. You left Texas and me

with $3,000 all saved by me the year before in the snowy yonder, plus a

monthly stipend of only—I repeat—only $363 per month. After a trip to

Hawaii, a sea of encyclopedias, a new refrigerator, and a broken car, TV,

toaster, and various sundries like four kids to feed and bathe in 100-degree

heat in an enormous house that costs $200 per month to rent and $60

to heat or cool and a yard that never ends and car insurance that would

crush a poor girl’s struggling soul, and dental/doctor bills, you expect $400

to be left? Well, $3,000 will only stretch so far and then it’s all gone. . . .

We don’t live like in the field you know!

. . .

Well, maybe I’m the one in the dark but, whatever it is, please enlight-

August 1967

———

427

en me. I’m just your wife and I don’t know how to do things any better

than I am. (Violins.) I could use some straight financial talk. Otherwise,

I go out and buy refrigerators all by myself. No, I’m teasing there. That’s

exactly what I like and need to do. . . .

So, what else is new? We went to see The Dirty Dozen with Lee Marvin

last night.

A dirty half-dozen went that is. We are absolutely out of things

to do. That goes hand in hand with no money. The gang just left to go buy

me a magazine. I don’t need a magazine, but they need something to do.

Uncle Don has been talked into maybe taking us to San Antonio on

Sunday. He’s a noble soul too.

. . .

Thank you so much for all the nice things I’ve sent you that you

didn’t need, like Dial soap, Avon toothbrushes, Kool-Aid, mosquito net

(that’s mosquito, not misquito), innertube mattresses, and wrong-size shav-

ing parts. Is there anything else you don’t need? Oh yes, Sears catalogs,

mustn’t forget those.

I think that’s what you’re going to get for Christmas too!

In the meantime, I remain respectfully yours.

Madame X (School of Music)

K . L

Sunday

27 August 1967

Hi Honey,

If the calendar is correct, Friday is 1 September already. Good!

Your purchase sounded a bit early to me. Did you check the prices for

a refrigerator at Bergstrom? I hate to tell you, but I could have sent one

from Okinawa for $100 less. That’s the one thing you have to learn—shop,

shop, shop, shop, then buy. When you don’t take time to really study the

problem, it costs money. I missed a chance to make about $300 over here

on a savings plan because I didn’t study it enough. Remember the old

The Dirty Dozen, directed by Robert Aldrich, starring Lee Marvin, Ernest Borgnine,

Charles Bronson, Jim Brown, John Cassavetes, Richard Jaeckel, George Kennedy, Trini

Lopez, Ralph Meeker, Robert Ryan, Telly Savalas, and Robert Webber (Beverley Hills, CA:

Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, 1967).

Gig is likely making a reference to the movie Madame X, directed by David Lowell Rich,

starring Lana Turner (Universal City, CA: Universal Pictures, 1966).

Chapter Eleven

———

428

railroad signs—stop, look, listen? They should have added and look again.

How in hell could I disapprove of your purchase? You know what you

need. My main concern is how you do it. I don’t think we’ll ever be able

to afford impulse buying on major items. The penalty is the long-term

personal association you’re forced to live with your mistakes usually.

If you really want me to retire after the next two-and-a-half years, I’ll

still be a major and half of my base pay is not very much. I’ll be 41 years

old and looking for a new job and trying to keep the old scale of living at

least, and it’s not going to be easy. I have no job prospects and going back

to school is the least income-producing effort I could think of. Hell, the

kids are just getting started. If they were grown and married, you and I

could do just about anything. But they won’t be in that stage for another

10 years at least. If I stuck around for an additional year (beyond March

1970), I would be picked up for lieutenant colonel and have to serve at

least two more years before I could retire, and the possibilities of coming

back overseas are extremely high. The other day, they put out the word

that they are almost doubling the lieutenant colonels’ list this next time.

That could knock off maybe a year for me if we decide to do that route.

. . . Financially though, it would mean the retirement pay difference be-

tween $415 a month and $546 a month as a retired major in 20 years or

lieutenant colonel in 22 years, respectively. Or $503 if I made lieutenant

colonel one year early and only have to serve 21 years.

Well, anyway, do you follow some of my thoughts? I’ve had a lot of

time to think about the near future, and it is mighty uncertain, I’ll tell

you!

Those pictures were taken last week? They sure are clear.

Got to get to bed, Baby, it’s late. I love you, Sweetheart.

See you later,

Ray

P.S. Go ahead, you buy—I’ll save!

K . L

For more on the ranks and grade structure, see Bernard C. Nalty et al., United States

Marine Corps Ranks and Grades, 1775–1969 (Washington, DC: Historical Division, Head-

quarters Marine Corps, 1970).

August 1967

———

429

Sunday

27 August 1967

Hello Dearest One,

I miss you tonight. How’s that for news? I’m feeling sort of guilty for my

last few letters, wondering if I upset you, hoping I didn’t, wishing I could

if only it would bring us closer together. Any kind of feeling is better than

no kind of feeling, and this is such a lousy way to communicate here in

public on paper! No privacy at all. . . . Hmm, I wouldn’t even mind hear-

ing that if it was in your voice. . . .

The kids and I shopped $7 worth of school supplies on Saturday,

and I’ve cleaned most of the house in preparation for the grand opening

of the icebox tomorrow! I decided to have them deliver it and they said

they’d put the other one in the garage for me. So, maybe I’ll have me a

new box tomorrow. I still am wishy washy over no ice maker and hope you

won’t tell me I should have gotten one with an ice maker. . . Do hope you

approve!

So—forgive me it’s 0130 and I’m a bleary eyed—the last weekend be-

fore Labor Day is over and school is getting close. That will be a big help.

School, that is. I’m getting as excited as they are. I wish you could have

heard my nice talk with Don tonight. It was full of our courtship days

and why we chose each other and really was sort of an eye-opener to Don,

or so he said. He’s so changed now, a much calmer happier guy and he’s

been offered another job, which he may have to take if this company goes

bankrupt. It still totters on the brink.

Well, Darling Love, he thinks we’re very lucky to have each other and

our beautiful family and I couldn’t agree more. I do love you, and tonight

I don’t mind admitting it at all. Isn’t that nice?

And so, to bed, thinking of you, with all my love,

Gig

K . L

Monday night

28 August 1967

Hello Sweet Man,

My goodness, the world feels so good after a bath, doesn’t it? Or are you a

shower man these days? Well, I’ve just finished a late-night solo bath and

Chapter Eleven

———

430

feel very warm and nice. A good thing to do before writing you. (That

rhymes.) You must beat me if I don’t make it a nightly habit when you’re

home. With Kirk telling me to stop smoking and you telling me to bathe,

I might become very respectable!

It was a very full day today, starting before I had breakfast when the

refrigerator showed up. It’s a charming, nice refrigerator only as Kathy

would say, it’s too big. Yup. The dear thing is sitting out from the wall

about eight inches. It won’t go under the cabinet. The man said to plane

the cabinet and paint it and it will fit. And the salesman said that one fits

in 90 percent of the cases, in fact, I’m the first one it hasn’t fit for, so to

keep it. I was inquiring about exchanging it for a smaller one. So, I decid-

ed to get a carpenter and somehow, we’ll get it under. In the meantime,

my kitchen has shrunk.

. . .

The kids played in the “boxes” box all day. It’s a lovely big cardboard

box. Then I decided to clean out the garage and, by noon, I was exhausted.

Your big envelope came plus the two letters and one from Mrs. Ball,

so I settled down for an hour with all that news. And good news it was

that you want me to stay here until 15 November. . . . That is only 10

weeks away and a very lovely date indeed, one day before Kathy’s third

birthday!

I loved the pictures and the write up and think you were all doing

marvelously well with that bird. Between you, you are both racking up

quite a score. I wish I could be there to give you a nice “Well done!” to all

hands. Felt like yelling “Hurray for our side!” Will that do?

You look absolutely great in the pictures—no gray hairs showing at all.

I really think you’ve exaggerated there. You just look like you to me and

better than that you sound fine, despite the absolute lunatics in wing who

steal your stolen trunks! Best not to dwell on lunatics.

. . .

I feel tremendously good about your having a home to unload in and

us a few days of privacy. Much, much, more better.

So glad you got the candy. Even the kids wanted to know if you were

going to share it. I said probably yes, after you gorge yourself. I think they

envy you a bit there. Like, “Wow look what Dad gets!” Fathers are exempt

from dental lectures.

Kathy had a talk with the cat after seeing your picture and hearing all

the talk! She always tells the cat important things like, “My Daddy.”

August 1967

———

431

Gotta, gotta, gotta go to bed. Goodnight, Love. I’m cold. That hot

bath water does not last! I need my real hot water bottle man.

XXXs,

Gig

K . L

Tuesday

29 August 1967

Hi Honey,

It’s damn near like not August anymore, isn’t it?

You are $300 (not $400) richer! I told you once and you missed it.

We “paid” the last month in advance last year that would normally be

applied for the month of October. All you have to pay in October is $100

for 15 days rent in November. And you don’t pay in September at all.

Understand?

Maybe you better cut that out and put in your checkbook. Do you

understand? . . . Oh, BDA stands for battle damage assessment and KBA

means killed by air. They go through and count later if they’re working in

that particular area. . . .

Umm, so you did jump the gun a bit in the frig! Ah-ha! Caught in

the act and a grave social error indeed! Umm, which wounds can I pour

the salt in?

Cherry Point is North Carolina, right? Beaufort is South Carolina,

right? Okay, now both Beaufort and Cherry Point have 2d MAW units

stationed there. So, if I have orders to the 2d MAW, which T. K. Burke

swears I do, then they could be either one. When our wing at Da Nang

receives orders like this, they hold them and wire the 2d MAW (headquar-

ters) at Cherry Point and ask them, “Where is he going to be sent?” All of

this takes time, which is getting delectably short, and all eight of us that

“have orders to the 2d Wing” are awaiting the same answer. . . .

This is also another reason why I want to keep the house until 15

November. We have had several people without orders to anywhere—Phil

Jacobs in the picture, for one, and he’s leaving next week. They’ll get him

while he’s on leave probably. Not the best of answers, but at least he won’t

have to do his waiting time at Chu Lai! So, who knows what is what? Not

me, Baby.

. . .

Chapter Eleven

———

432

Hey, this lieutenant colonels’ list is really getting better. All my class-

mates in the academy should be lieutenant colonels by the end of next

June—except Ray Bright—and then the following fiscal year 1 July 1968–30

June 1969, if I’m going to make it at all, I should be a lieutenant colo-

nel by a year from Christmas! I’d only have to serve about eight or nine

months that beyond 20 years (March 1970) up to about Christmas 1970

and retire in 21 years pay at about $500 a month. How about that?

. . .

Things do work out, don’t they?

Hey, Honey, I do love you. You know that—spots and all—even your

children.

Goodnight,

Ray

Figure 43. Two U.S. Marine Corps Douglas A-4E Skyhawk of Marine

Attack Squadron 211 (VMA-211) refuel at Chu Lai air base, Vietnam, in

1967

Note: the aircraft on the right appears to be BuNo 150038, which was

shot down by ground fire on 28 August 1967.

Source: official U.S. Marine Corps photo.

August 1967

———

433

K . L

Tuesday

29 August 1967

Darling,

It seems a bit silly to be writing you after my nine-page letter yesterday

night, but I’m stewing and stewing alone is no fun, so I thought I’d write

you. The kids have gone swimming and Kathy’s asleep.

I just finished balancing the checkbook, and I have $763 after paying

the rent. Granted that Friday I add $363, which ups it to $1,146, but this

is the first time I’ve gone below $1,000 and it worries me.

. . .

The monthly average outgoing is usually much less, from about $550

to $650. I just thought you ought to know that situation before it gets

worse. You’ve counted on our living on the $363 and using $200 out of

the reserve for rent, which is $563 a month, and that’s fine except when

unusual expenses hit, like the refrigerator, ring, and appliance repairs.

There goes the reserve! And that’s what worries me.

So, Darling, there’s the monthly wrap-up. You might say I’ve gone in

the red or into the reserve money. You said to tell you if that happened,

and I’m telling you. It’s really not all that bad as you would say, but bears

watching, and I’d love to have your thoughts about the situation.

. . .

How am I doing, Papasan? Have I got a flat tire? Give me the word.

Your droopy wife, running out of sight,

Gig

K . L

Wednesday, 1330

30 August 1967

New day, mailman not here yet, so I’ll add a note to this one. I felt like I

left you up in the air with only money problems there anyway. And who

wants to be left with money problems? Actually, that still is a problem, but

it doesn’t seem to be bothering me today like it did yesterday. . . .

I’m really enjoying it [refrigerator] though. The bread stays so nice

and fresh, and I even bought some ice cream, which I could never put and

keep in the old box.

Chapter Eleven

———

434

Tomorrow, I register the kids for school, and they have two parties to

go to for the weekend. . . .

Don’s company is declaring bankruptcy and he will take a job with

Geo Sandlin, a realtor and promoter businessman. At least, that’s the

latest as of yesterday.

. . .

I feel excited about September coming and all, but mostly it’s just the

thought of you being home that really brings a lift to my heart.

It’s time for the mailman to pop into view, so I’ll close. Take good care

and don’t sweat me too much. A little bit if you want though!

I LOVE YOU,

Gig

K . L

31 August 1967

Hi Honey,

I just got home from a hop and had a good secondary and not enough

fuel to shoot it. Yesterday, we had the fuel (or gave it to them anyway) and

couldn’t shoot! Damn most frustrating thing in the world! A truck convoy

had been ambushed about 48 kilometers north of Hue/Phu Bai and they

had one truck blown up and burning and the column pinned down. We

had just finished working in A Shau Valley and spotted them. We only

got two rockets out of one pod and none out the other, and you could

hear their guns banging away at each pass, so we switched to guns, and

I’ll be damned if the guns wouldn’t fire either! Some big show, huh? I was

so damn mad. The darn Viet Cong were shooting more than we were. I

almost felt like putting the ordinance man in front of the guns and test

firing him. Well, that’s what you get flying antiques. You have to make do

and make do until there’s nothing left of the original. We’re supposed to

lose all the F-9s in September or October and pick up new two-seat A-4

Skyhawks in November. I guess I’ll have to go over to MAG-36 and fly

choppers the last few weeks.

I just went over the temporary lieutenant colonel message again.

They stopped right about where I thought they would (I missed it by 35

Officers are eligible for promotion based on their published lineal precedence and se-

niority. This listing is referred to as the “Blue Book” and is published annually.

August 1967

———

435

numbers). I’ll be in the zone next summer along with all my screening

course buddies—Jerry Hogen, Dan Wood, even George Walker (about 26

numbers ahead of me). I wouldn’t be surprised (if I make it at all) if I

didn’t get promoted right around Thanksgiving of next year or possibly

Christmas.

I also got a questionnaire from the G-1 2d Marine Aircraft Wing

asking what and where and a lot of other baloney. I put in for Beaufort,

of course, but you know how these things go. We’ll probably end up at

Cherry Point.

Did I tell you we finally got our office air-conditioned?

Oh man, that’s the greatest! Never thought I’d see it. Where do I ship

over?

You were right! You’re always right! Sooner or later, you’re bound to

be right. Miss June (Playboy) was convicted of prostitution last week!

But

the Moral League of America in Uniforms and I didn’t notice any teas for

George L. Rockwell, former U.S. Navy aviator or not.

. . . . I just found out you can’t retire at your highest rank or 20 years

of it is a temporary promotion; you retire in 20 on the highest permanent

rank you held. Mine will probably be major at that. Tell you more later,

right now it’s after 2200 and I’d better get some sleep now. . . .

Well, I am one tired—

Good night, Darling.

Love you!

Ray

K . L

A rainy Thursday night

31 August 1967

Hello Darling,

Finally, the heat wave broke and some cool rain came. We couldn’t stand

our unairconditioned house at all today and fled from it whenever possi-

ble. Mom and I went to the commissary this afternoon and left Karen and

Joey Gibson was convicted on 23 August 1967. “Playboy’s Playmate Convicted,” Desert

Sun (Palm Springs, CA), 24 August 1967.

George L. Rockwell was the founder of the American Nazi Party, who was assassinated

on 25 August 1967 in Arlington, VA. Charles S. Clark, “The Assassination of an Arling-

ton Nazi,” Arlington Historical Magazine, October 2005, 5–17.

Chapter Eleven

———

436

Robin to babysit at Mom’s. They did fine. Kirk went to see Old Yeller and

loved that with his friend Randy.

And I registered the kids in school this morning. They were up,

dressed, and had the table set, so all I had to do was collect myself and

Kathy. All the mothers looked tired and the teachers fresh! I filled out

tons of forms, and everyone was happy except Kirk, who wants a different

teacher. I said no sweat, you’ll get a different one in North Carolina!

Karen has the biggest jump. In the sixth grade, they get to be in a

band and also be a patrolman/or girls. She’s in the air-conditioned part

of the school too. One of her classmates was taller than I am!

Yesterday was a madhouse really. A roofer came by . . . plus phone

calls, plus, plus, plus. So, by 1500, I decided to take the kids swimming

and a neighbor child who has been a thorn in our side all year, asked to

go along. Usually, she stays in her mother’s clutches. She ran home for

her suit and off we went. But at the swimming pool, we were met by a

hornet’s nest, her mother, who insisted I took . . . her child swimming

without her permission! Obviously, I’m a kidnapper at heart. I was so mad,

I could only growl. Well, I take her home and I haven’t calmed down yet,

though I’m under sedation. Not really, but practically. The darn woman

has done everything to pick a fight for a whole year and this was our first

eyeball-to-eyeball confrontation. Fortunately, but barely, I controlled my-

self. It was pretty funny, because in her crazy rage she thought Liz Austin

was me. Liz couldn’t imagine why the woman was attacking her. I had

stepped behind to get Kathy out of a tantrum and then she got accosted

by her. . . .

It was really funny. All the rage was intended for me. The child had

snuck off from her overly strict mother and the mother was trying to

blame it all on me. In fact, she bribed her brother a dollar not to tell! But I

didn’t know all that. I just had my mind on other things and absentmind-

edly thought of course she had permission. The girl is 11!

Well anyway, it was a wild melee, and I was suddenly a kidnapper.

That’s a new one, n’est-ce pas? I guess four [kids] aren’t enough.

Well, things have calmed down a bit. Don and Mom came over to

raise the heavy blind and admire the pictures last night. . . .

. . .

Old Yeller, directed by Robert Stevenson, starring Dorothy McGuire and Fess Parker (Bur-

bank, CA: Walt Disney Productions, 1957).

August 1967

———

437

Meanwhile, back in Vietnam, I get the exciting news that my husband

is washing his underclothes. Naturally I grin and bear this with him, but

it makes me wonder why things seem more peaceful there than here? As

you so often say, could it be the source?

Actually, things aren’t as bad as they sound. The new icebox is here,

it is working, albeit in the middle of the kitchen floor, we are all delighted

with it and rave over the freshness of our food. . . . And things are not all

that bad at all! In fact, quite good. And tomorrow is 1 September!

You, Dear Nutsky, are dreaming of a Marine Corps Ball, and I don’t

know if you are way ahead of me or way behind me.

I do know I’ll be glad when we’re in the same time zone, in the same

house, and in the same bed. That sounds a lot easier than trying to keep

each other up on things the way we’re doing now! You really are way

ahead of me I do believe, because somehow you always say it first in just

the right way.

I envy those mosquitoes on that good smelling man, but tell them I

get the first taste.

I am up on all that’s going on over there, the elections and all, and I

just can’t comment on it all because I can hear about it, but I can’t talk

about it. Which, for your sake, is probably just as well. But if someone

asked me what my “major” is doing, I’d say my “major” is in Vietnam. It’s

still the number one topic of conversation in the USA. The people over

here really do live the war with all of you over there every day, and I feel

sure that thoughtful people really care very deeply.

Well, enough said. This armchair general is going to bed. I wish

I could say what I feel on paper, and I know you feel the same frustrat-

ing way.

Goodnight, Dear Love,

Gig

———

438

SEPTEMBER 1967

Saturday night

2 September 1967

Hi Honey,

This is the first time I have a chance to write to you in September in six

years and it’s too late. We had a “Welcome aboard VMFA-323” tonight,

and I was flying this noon when I normally would have written to you—

safe and sober.

Today was my 133d combat mission and Phil Jacobs’ last. He leaves

Monday, and he still doesn’t have orders.

We had raw spareribs at the club tonight and no salt or bread. The

skipper’s nursing an ulcer, so I ate some of his cookies with my beer, but I

still wouldn’t really call it a meal. Can you imagine Major Lee T. Lasseter

(VMFA-312 days), Major Joseph R. Wuertz, and Major Henry D. Fager-

skog all in that same stupid squadron?

The one I was supposed to be the

operations officer of—numbed by numbers—never was sure if you knew

why I couldn’t get in that lousy outfit and it all centers around Wuertz.

Oh well, screw them. Feed them fish, that’s what good cat lickers are for.

VMFA-323, Command Chronology (ComdC) September 1967, Box __, Folder 098,

1201098113, U.S. Marine Corps History Division Vietnam War Documents Collection,

Vietnam Center and Sam Johnson Vietnam Archive, Texas Tech University.

September 1967

———

439

They (Viet Cong) made a half-hearted attempt at hitting us a cou-

ple of days ago—40 mortars and almost no real damage to speak of. I’ll

bet they’re boiling mad at their cousins to the north and all their fancy

140mm rockets around Da Nang. I guess Da Nang Valley is the second

largest city in Republic of Vietnam (RVN) and there are more political

implications to anything they do up there than down here.

I’m glad you’re pleased with the icebox. Play away, friend, have a ball

(and no ice cubes) ha. Your ribs were burned, mine were raw! May we

meet in the middle sometime and may you cease to get letters that are

written at the wrong time. Drunk letters could be fun, but they can be

obnoxious too, I’m sure. It’s my stupid loyalty that won’t quit.

You get a letter, you get a letter, with hell and high water to boot.

I’m going to eat a Hershey bar and go to bed. Thank the Lord, it’s early.

I should get some good sleep. Good night, Gig. Kiss my children good

night if you can still catch them all.

Some days you just can’t win. We had the fuel and the ordinance, and

no one wanted it. Can you believe that? One of those quiet days.

Good night, Darling, see you after next month—hmm, that’s better.

Love, Honey,

Ray

K . L

Tuesday morning

5 September 1967

Hi Honey,

We had a going away party for Phil Jacobs last night, and I was flying yes-

terday afternoon, so I’m sorry all you get is this very short one this time.

I can hardly believe it’s time for school again. Where did the so-called

summer go?

Don’t take on a string of parties for when I get home. I want to “un-

lax” as much as possible.

I’m sorry about Don’s company busting, but he knew it was a long

shot to start with.

Hey, Money Bags, don’t forget to not pay the rent for October. Please?

You keep talking about paying the rent, and you haven’t answered about

Unlax is a less common term for slowly relaxing or gradually relieving tension.

Chapter Twelve

———

440

the “last month” part yet. Not including those 15 days in November, you

pay them separately. I’m not counting on living off your $363 or anything

else, I just don’t want you to pay something we’ve already paid for.

Sounds like your cleaning up and throwing out splurge is paying

off. Keep it up, but watch out for my “goodies.” Wrathful husbands are

fierce—grr.

See you sooner, huh?

Love to you, Gig,

Ray

K . L

Labor Day

1967

Hello Precious Love,

It’s late Monday evening here and raining and I’m feeling like the last rose

of summer.

We had quite a lot going on here, as I told you in my last letter three

days ago. In my life, three days is a book, and I’m wondering how not to

bore you. Mostly it was three nights of parties, which is a lot for me! . . .

. . .

I, like an idiot, stayed up too late then watching Alan Burke on TV

interview a religious guy who uses LSD as a sacrament.

A hippy and, the

awful part is, these guys really do influence the young here now. Just wait

until you get home to see and hear all that. . . .

This afternoon, the kids wanted their turn at last and I took them

swimming at Deep Eddy and we got home before the rain.

So, you can

see I have been busy! Worse though, I didn’t sleep well last night from the

excitement and so just dragged today. I figure I can collapse a bit though,

having accomplished a whole summer without you!

The kids are raring for school, and I have to face the lonesomeness of

Kathy tomorrow. I dread that, but guess we’ll manage. She wants to go to

school with them already though, poor dear: “I go scoo too!”

The Alan Burke Show was a syndicated talk show from 1966 until 1970. He was known for

his controversial topics and counterculture guests.

Deep Eddy Pool is a historic artificial swimming pool in Austin, TX. It is considered the

oldest swimming pool in the state and features a bathhouse built during the Depression

era by the Works Progress Administration.

September 1967

———

441

I blasted the kids several times today, which shows I can’t be a social-

ite and mother too, but gee it was fun while it lasted!

Goodnight, Dear Love. I wrote Milly a long letter and that’s why you

missed one, plus Labor Day. Whew! Do you forgive me? I LOVE YOU!

Gig

K . L

Tuesday night

5 September 1967

Hi Baby,

That letter this morning was what you call rushed.

Obviously, you are a kidnapper, stealing children from their mother’s

breasts. Aren’t you ashamed? After all the dust settled, who won the battle

—Mrs. Z or Miss K?

. . .

Your food bill was $181.44? Golden steaks at 7-11? It would be $60

cheaper at Bergstrom, I’ll bet. I can see you need some reindoctrina-

tion too. . . .

Fathers aren’t completely free from the dentist either. I had to go have

a filling replaced just last week, and I’ll get them cleaned before I come

home, I hope. I thought the kids would like that!

I finally got recommended for a Distinguished Flying Cross, but I

wouldn’t be surprised if the wing knocked it down to another Air Med-

al—working on number 10 right now.

The real fine hop we had on 16

August—I told you about that one, I’m sure—if we do get it, it’ll be the

first Distinguished Flying Cross ever given to Grumman F-9 Cougar pi-

lots either here or Da Nang. They have a couple too. Right now, we only

have one up. Major Stephen R. Foulger, my base services officer, came

back with a big hole in the wing yesterday that will take a while to patch

up. I’d like to finish up here with 150 missions, but right now I only have

134 and things are a little slow with only one aircraft. Oh well, “We shall

overcome.”

According to the command chronology, two Air Medals were awarded. MABS-13,

ComdC September 1967, Box __, Folder 077, 1201077128, U.S. Marine Corps History

Division Vietnam War Documents Collection, Vietnam Center and Sam Johnson Viet-

nam Archive, Texas Tech University, 2.

Chapter Twelve

———

442

Did I ever tell you what a big lift your letters give me? Well, they re-

ally do. Sometimes I read mine over again (that’s the first mistake) and

I think, boy if you can take all this trip, you’re a woman with a big heart

because sometimes you do miss what I say in a letter and I get madder

than hell. I’m just built that way unfortunately, but thank heavens you are

as resilient as you are to take all my gruff and not blow it back my way. Of

course, I wish you would read some things twice, like no October rent and

the Marine Corps ball if any, at Austin. But, generally speaking, you read

me pretty darn well. . . . it has been much better this year than six years

ago. We both have progressed there, I will say.

Sorry, it’s 0430 the next morning, and I’ve got to go brief.

Goodnight morning, Honey.

I love you.

Ray

K . L

Wednesday

6 September 1967

Hello Love,

Hey, you’re ahead and I’m behind! Three letters and three pictures ahead,

and I don’t know which to answer first. I’ll pop off as I remember the big

points in your letters.

Thanks for my $300 raise. I guess that was the missing piece of the

puzzle, but I still don’t believe it will BE ENOUGH! I wish I could just

say, “Hey Honey, send me some money,” but I know you’d call me chicken

if I did that. You don’t know about the dryer breaking down though, do

you? And you don’t know that things like that cost 50 cents for parts and

$6.25 for labor. And you don’t know that clothes for the redhead cost

$26 today but are worth it because she has new “jello” pants—yellow—also

a sweatshirt that says Texas in orange, and a new red coat, pink PJs, a blue

dress, and she still needs shoes. So, anyway, thanks for the reminder. It did

make me feel more flush, a bit (enough to go shopping!)

The air conditioner condenser is still out, though Mr. Frye swears it

was due to Labor Day. . . .

The rain stopped and the roof did leak. . . .

But enough of mundane house problems. Your air conditioner is

working, and I think I’ll just move in with you.

September 1967

———

443

It’s relatively sane here again with school two days underway.

Back to you, Tam Ky is in the news, and it sure looks close to Chu Lai

on the map. I hope that simmers down and was just due to the election.

Regarding your delightful news about staying in until December 1971,

I’m afraid you still have a battle on your hands there from me. But I’m

not about to discuss it at this distance—though it might be safer—I’m only

pondering now whether you would about to not be a lieutenant colonel

and get out on 20. Is such a thing possible? Like, no thanks, I’ll retire as a

major because that’s what I’ll retire as anyway? Lord, the way I see it now,

each nibble of promotion has a hook of commitment behind it. Like go

back to Vietnam or stay in even longer and make permanent lieutenant

colonel. Where does it end? I want to taper off like NOW. Retiring as a

major is FINE with me. If I hadn’t moved for 25 years before marrying

you, maybe I’d be more Gung Ho, but all I want now is to have you in

shape for a second career as a husband, father, and civilian wage earner.

Color me BAD GUY. Well, anyway, that’s a sample of my side of the ques-

tion. You can report me to the Department of Internal Marines if you’d

like. That’s me and I’m president.

Let’s see, what other goodies did you tell me about. Oh yes, South

Carolina was news. I had everyone set for North Carolina. Now we’re

back to North Carolina/South Carolina. Now I know which way your

wind blows at any rate. I also suspect it has something to do with superior

jets. Also a man who loves to smell out the best deal of all possible deals.

You’re a gambler at heart. Too bad your wife knows you so well, isn’t it?

Just be sure to tell me when I’m wrong.

Now, about my shining new refrigerator. There’s nothing wrong with

it except I broke a Sears salesman’s heart. I promised I wouldn’t buy until

his September deals came in. He called and said mournfully, “See me

about a range?” I said sure and hung up because it took 11 years for a box,

it’ll probably take 11 more for an oven with you home. There’s no hope.

I was such a hot customer too! A wild woman from Borneo on the loose

with nary a husband in sight to say NO. POWER. HOW I LOVE IT!

For more on Marine Corps operations in the area, including Task Force X-Ray’s Op-

eration Swift, see Maj Gary L. Telfer, LtCol Lane Rogers, and V. Keith Fleming Jr., U.S.

Marines in Vietnam: Fighting the North Vietnamese, 1967 (Washington, DC: History and

Museums Division, Headquarters Marine Corps, 1984), 119; and Kent Sieg and David

S. Patterson, eds., Foreign Relations of the United States, 1964–1968, vol. 5, Vietnam, 1967

(Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 2002).

Chapter Twelve

———

444

Trouble is I still have bones that turn to water at the sound of a noise at

night. I’m very tired of my night watchman job.

Oh Sweetie, I hope you understand all this silliness. It’s just another

way to say how much I miss you over and over. You’ve really taken all my

letters, ups and downs, and femaleness so very, very well and only called

me a “goddamned female” once. That’s a very high compliment to you.

And all this in the midst of a war. I could shut up and be really brave, but

I wouldn’t have anything to talk about if I did that!

On that sweet note, I quit. You win. Kirk’s racing track stays. You

both fought so nobly for it. Your heads are going to be under a jalopy in

another few years anyway, so I’d better enjoy you while you’re both up.

Kirk lives in the garage now, waiting for you to come home. He picks up

saws like they were jewels.

Thank you for your love, Dear. I need it and I’ll take it. You may have

it back COD in November.

Would you believe nine weeks away? That

sounds close anyway. So, okay don’t let it all hang out. You’re the one who

told me to say it. Tell me another inside joke. Your loving, sweet, ten-

der, gentle, kind, clean, womanly (quit reading Playboy) devoted, ladylike,

whew, etc.

Wife

K . L

Thursday night

7 September 1967

Hi Honey,

And how is it today? Mine’s tired! I thought the longer we were here,

the more things would settle down and we could relax a bit, but the

opposite is true. The noises get louder and the hours longer. My new ad-

ministrative officer Chief Warrant Officer Harold E. Wilson may have

a Congressional Medal of Honor, but he can’t read or write, and I’m

having to kick him in the ass more every day. He should have retired

several years ago.

COD refers to cash on delivery or collect on delivery for purchases made in the United

States and Canada, usually as a result television commercials, and was out of use by the

late 1980s.

MABS-13, ComdC September 1967. Wilson was awarded the medal for heroism as a

platoon sergeant of a rifle platoon in Korea on the night of 23–24 April 1951.

September 1967

———

445

I’ve been up in the valley almost every day for the last three to four

months. We’re finally going to “rearrange” things here. I saw a working

party of about 15 people up there this morning. They disappeared before

I could turn around. They’re foxy. You blink and they’re gone in their

holes.

. . .

Are you deducting all the roof repair bills from the rent? Just how do

you get credit for all the money you’ve spent on the house that wasn’t your

fault? I hope you have something worked out.

Ugh, school already? Bear with it, kids. You only have another 100

years in school. Yuk, yuk. Karen, what’s the greatest race of all time? Give

up? The HUMAN race, idiot! Ho, ho, ho—gotcha that time!

No more, not another word. My left eyeball just gave up the ghost. I

gotta shower and you know what—get some sleep, huh!

Goodnight, Sweetheart.

See you later,

Ray

P.S. I love Karen.

P.P.S. I love Robin.

P.P.P.S. I love Kirk.

P.P.P.S. I love Kathy.

Must be someone else. Who did I miss? The cat? Mom? OH MOM. Yeah,

you too!

K . L

Thursday night

7 September 1967

Dear Majority Stice,

Minority Stice speaking here. How do you read me? Do you read me?

Would you rather not read me? Don’t answer that. King Kong, the cat,

is howling outside. Somehow, it is distracting me. It doesn’t take much

does it?

I’ll bet you’d love to wake up the way I did this morning. It seems the

alarm didn’t get pulled, but our human alarm, Kathysan, woke Karen by

putting her blanket over her. She likes to cover people and King Kong.

People don’t mind, King Kong does.

I arose to the dire emergency of it being 0730 and school starts at

Chapter Twelve

———

446

0800. First order of the day, calm Kirk. Robin was making him nervous

with her fear of being late. Robin will always be on time. Everyone did

have time to eat cereal. And then I hear a bright little voice saying,

“Good morning, Mom!” Everything stops while Kathy and I greet the

morning and each other. Then as they scramble, Kathy stops everyone

and says, “I WANT A KISS!” So, each one has to stop and kiss her

goodbye. She follows them and says goodbye as they scurry off in the

dewy grass.

It’s a lovely way to start the day. Kathy and I go into a blue funk

for an hour then and neither of us speaks. I listen to the news and she

dances.

. . .

More news about the Que Son Valley and Tam Ky battles.

They are

near you, aren’t they? They said air support helped win the battle.

. . .

Sweetie, I miss you so much I’d try anything to get you here.

XXXs,

Gig

K . L

8 September 1967

Darling,

It just hit me that tonight is Friday and there’s room for one more letter to

you this week. I don’t have that much to say—said it all in Wednesday’s let-

ter I think—and despite not getting one from you to answer, which would

make this more interesting, I’ll gibberish on.

We got home from the drive-in movie tonight after staying for only

one show (Up the Down Staircase) about New York City schools.

The

preview was about “sadism” and “riots on Sunset Strip” so I hastily got

the kids out of there. I bopped Robin once for taking it all in despite my

yells of trash and that reminded Karen somehow of you, because she said,

“Better hurry up and see all the movies you can, Robin, because Daddy

Gig could be referring to news reports of Operation Swift. See Telfer, Rogers, and Flem-

ing, U.S. Marines in Vietnam: Fighting the North Vietnamese, 1967, 114.

Up the Down Staircase, directed by Robert Mulligan, starring Sandy Dennis (Burbank,

CA: Warner Brothers, 1967).

September 1967

———

447

will make us lie down on the floor when he comes back!” Wasn’t that cute

of her to remember? Mondo Caine still rings a bell, I guess.

. . .

Not such a very interesting day here, though Mom and I did commis-

sary shop. All the kids brought home friends after school and things got

lively with all their comings and goings.

The air conditioner man fixed the condenser and did not mention a

bill, so I guess it was guaranteed after all. That really is all the news I have.

It’s so meager, it’s pitiful. I did notice today that I miss you more now,

because it’s getting near my turn and I’m not feeling so generous!

Goodnight, Dear Love,

Gig

K . L

Saturday night

9 September 1967

Hi Honey,

I got your Labor Day book today. It’s been a long four or five days between

letters this time. It sounds like the weekend was a rip-roaring success—well,

rip roaring anyway! . . . I really cannot top that. Until your letter, I didn’t

even know it was Labor Day. Thanks for reminding me!

I’m glad it’s cooling off there. We are getting down to the bearable stage

here—95- to 98-degree average—with fantastically huge thunderstorms all

over the mountains. It’s getting harder to get into A Shau because of the

rain and clouds. Sort of a transitional monsoon time now. The stupid war

runs in spurts. One day, everything is boiling over all over the place, and

the next day nothing. And our runway is closed for repairs. We take off on

a taxiway and land into an arresting gear on a tiny SATS strip made out of

aluminum.

Jets, airplanes, choppers, and transports blotting out the sun

Mondo Cane, directed by Gualtiero Jacopetti, Paolo Cavara, and Franco Prosperi (Italy:

Cineriz, 1962). Mondo cane is Italian for “a dog’s world,” and in this case was considered

a curse word.

According to MABS-13, ComdC September 1967, “The Crosswind runway (SATS) was

utilized for the recovery of F-4 type aircraft during the period 3 September to 21 Septem-

ber 1967, with the exception of when emergencies prevailed on the SATS, at this time

the F-4’s were either recovered on the East Field or on the West Taxiway. A total of 1,092

aircraft were recovered during this period on the SATS.”

Chapter Twelve

———

448

almost. Interesting, very interesting. Almost like back at the DMZ a cou-

ple of weeks ago, some guy came up on guard saying, “There’s a [surface-

to-air missile] SAM on your tail. Dive down to the right!” You could see

contrails for 48 kilometers as everyone who heard it pulled the wings off

airmast—little double sets of white curlicues all over the place!

Still nothing on Cherry Point or Beaufort. That’s such a good deal, I

can’t believe it.

Would you believe it’s past time to go catch some sleep? Would you

believe it’s the next morning already? That’s how quick the night went . . .

Been doing pretty well for flying, only 2 days in the past 30 that I haven’t

been on the schedule. The main thing as far as Lieutenant Colonel Rich-

ard E. Carey is to make it appear as though I’m not flying more than him.

You know, get out of the flight suit before and after the hop and at night

at the club. It’s psychological more than anything else. He’s finally getting

all he wants. He wanted me to play a part in our welcome aboard skit for

VMFA-323. Ha! I told him those were the last bastards I wanted to see

back. They were the ones I was supposed to be with.

Well, I’ve got to get this in the mail. See you later, Honey.

I love you,

Ray

K . L

Sunday night

10 September 1967

Hello Love,

This one I’m writing propped on my knees. Somehow, I can’t stand the

kitchen light’s glare anymore. I really do think I need glasses.

I ended my Friday letter to you in a hurry because of a rather dramatic

thing that happened as I was writing it. The windows were all open and

it was 0030 in the morning and I heard a car zooming up Exposition

Boulevard, screech its brakes, silence, then crash. I flew outside, but it

was pitch black out, so I came in, called the police, and reported what I

heard. They already had gotten one call. . . . The car was going 125 miles

per hour and landed inside the corner filling station. Three 19-year-old

kids inside, one a girl.

The next day, I learned the girl was the daughter of Charles E. Green,

September 1967

———

449

the editor of the Austin-American Statesman and she had a fractured skull.

. . . The car went through a brick wall but left the front window intact.

. . .

We spent a quiet Saturday night at home watching The Miss America

contest. Poor old Bert Parks microphone went out just as he was supposed

to sing “There She Goes! Miss America.” The other 1967 Miss America

showed off what she did for the troops in Vietnam. Did you see her?

Probably not. They only stayed a week. This year’s Miss America was Miss

Kansas and an ice skater. The talent of all was unbelievable.

Karen, Rob-

in, and Kirk were all impressed.

Hey! Here’s some hot news—Lynda Byrd Johnson is engaged to a

MARINE CAPTAIN! An aide, 28 years old, dark haired named Schab or

Yaub or something, check me later on that.

Can you see old Lynda in a

Quonset hut? He’s going to Vietnam next year, so maybe she’ll never have

that choice experience. I’m delighted. Maybe the housing officers will get

hot and fix us all up in her honor. I reckon it took a Marine to pin her

down!

We all went swimming at the lake—Mom, kids, and I—today and the

girls each swam across and back without life jackets on, with me and/

or Mom beside them with the inner tube. And we had our ski belts on,

us oldsters that is. I’d say they passed their summer swimming with high

colors. . . .

Well, you shall soon see, more vividly than I can describe.

They all have new sweatshirts. The girls’ shirts say, “Twiggy,” and

Kirk’s loud orange says “Texas.”

I must close now. Enough? I love you tenderly and sweetly and all

sorts of other good ways. Kirk loves your toolbox and polished a silver ring

The car accident where Beverly R. Green was injured was reported in the Austin-

American Statesman, 11 September 1967; and her release from the hospital was covered in

the Austin-American Statesman, 28 September 1967.

Miss American 1968, Debra Dene Barnes, was selected during the 41st Miss America

pageant in Atlantic City, NJ, on 9 September 1967 and aired on NBC. The 1967 Miss

America was Miss Oklahoma, Jane Ann Jayroe, who made a 17-day trip to American bases

in South Vietnam in August 1967. Bryan Painter, “Jane Jayroe Remembers 1967 Vietnam

Tour as Time of Tears, Smiles,” Oklahoman, 9 October 2011.

Johnson’s fiance was Capt Charles S. Robb. Roy Reed, “Lynda Johnson to Marry Ma-

rine; White House Ceremony Set for December—Fiance, a Captain, Is Milwaukeean,” New

York Times, 11 September 1967.

Chapter Twelve

———

450

and showed Walt Penn your corporal’s stripe. He’s the world proudest

boy of his dad’s gear! Hang on someday to your ties.

XXXs,

Gig

K . L

Monday afternoon

11 September 1967

Hi Honey,

I just got back from my 140th combat mission. Not quite as good as yes-

terday where we had another fortified villa all to ourselves, but creditable

overall. The 0400 reveille after last night’s so-called floor show was a bit

rough, I’ll be yawning all afternoon probably. Ever see a major with his

mouth wide open—pretty. Yesterday, we supported the 5th Marines, and

today the Korean Marines plus A Shau each time to start with. The run-

way is so hot we have to “defuel” a lot so we can still get off the ground.

The taxiway we take off from is 3,000 feet shorter than the runway, which

is being repaired right now.

Last night, the Army’s 101st Airborne Division came through. About

80 of their officers hit our club. They had been refused service at the

196th Army Regimental Club here; just could hardly believe that story,

but it was true.

We made them feel at home, and even got several of

them to fall for our club initiation ceremony, which looks like a lifting

contest with betting all over the place and actually ends up with all the

“contestants” getting soaked with beer. It’s about the stupidest thing I’ve

ever seen anywhere, but these damn doggies eat it up. We get about 10

every week; plus, our own new joins who haven’t happened to hear of it.

Like me!

Would you believe that the office air conditioner has cleared up all

my skin problems—not that bad. I’ll still need some fattening up though.

Our diet’s a hair lean overall, and we sweat it off immediately. Can you

do that? Hmm? . . .

MABS-13, ComdC September 1967, 1–2.

Though the MABS-13 ComdC does not mention their presence, see Glenn F. Williams,

Taking the Offensive: October 1966–September 1967 (Washington, DC: U.S. Army Center of

Military History, 2016), 55.

September 1967

———

451

Still nyet [nothing] on the 2d Marine Aircraft Wing orders. Have you

called the Marines there in Austin about the Marine Corps Birthday yet?

I may just make it in time, or if you’d rather wait, I’ll do it myself if I get

there early enough.

. . .

Time to take a shower and get back to work. More later . . .

More work and more yawning that’s for sure! It’s nighttime now. Ever

see a day go so fast? Zip and gone, it didn’t stand a chance.

The sun went down and took my eyeballs with it clunk. Zzz . . . Whew,

I’ve got to do it. Goodnight, Darling, one of these cotton-picking days I

can tell you myself. What? That I love you, stupid, that’s what.

See you later,

Ray

K . L

Tuesday

12 September 1967

Dear Sweetie,

Finally, two letters from you today. I do believe you missed a few days

from the second to the fifth, and I missed getting them, but all is for-

given. I gave you a few stinky letters in there about bills and such, and

really felt you let me off the hook very nicely. I’ve just about decided

I’ve got to quit crying on your shoulder at this distance anyway. You just

can’t get that involved with my problems here, because your own are too

compelling.

I do feel like sometimes you’ve missed whole pages of what I’ve said,

not because you mean to but because as Mom said once, “He’s got to

remember the really important things.” So, for once, I apologize. You

are doing the most important thing now—your job—and I do expect too

much. I’m going to quit trying to analyze—hell, decipher—your answers

to my problems and try to solve them myself. If I go broke, then it’s your

problem, okay?

I almost did today. Picture me trying on $100 coats. Then picture me

buying the children three coats for $36. That’s better.

I drove to San Antonio today. Me. Watashi [me]. . . . Only “San Anto-

nio” is now North Star Mall, a huge shopping center. No one gets beyond

that. . . .

Chapter Twelve

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452

The kids liked their coats (too big) and I’ll exchange them tomorrow

at the Lerner’s shop in Austin! . . . The house was full of kids when I got

home as usual! I guess that explains why this letter is a bit jumbled. I’m

tired. My goodness, I took a trip!

I do hope you get the Distinguished Flying Cross. That would be nice

and a good one, wouldn’t it? Gosh knows though, the only thing I want

you to “get” is to “get” home!

. . .

Baby, I’d love to get excited about the Marine Corps Ball, but you

didn’t dance with me at the last one, and besides I’m bottomless. I got an

evening top from you, but no bottoms. And my check book read $782, all

of which is rather depressing. So, ask me again later. Maybe your bright,

bubbling hazel eyes will inspire me. I’ve got a date with you at the airport

and one to drive to North Carolina/South Carolina in November with

four kids. Isn’t that enough? You just celebrate all you want before you

leave Chu Lai with the men who deserve a toast. The ones here in Austin

are mostly Reserve recruiters you know. That’s a pretty civilized affair over

here, meaning women have a sobering effect. But I repeat, ask me later. As

you say, “I dunno, I dunno.” . . .

Enough? Gig. Enough!

P.S. I LOVE YOU. And I get madder than hell too. Amazing, isn’t it?

K . L

Wednesday afternoon

13 September 1967

Hi Honey,

Yeah, you got it. I can unlax, right? Not pay for October, because it’s al-

ready paid last year, and I’m sure you have $100 worth of bills to take out

for those 15 days in November. Not confusing—it’s right.

You’re right about the action picking up here left and right and all

around. For the grunts and us too. Hit two different fortified villas this

morning. It looked like they’d been digging in for 20 years.

Yes, I could retire as a major in 20 years at $415 a month, but that’s

not very much to live on if I’m stuck job hunting for a while, when I could

stick around for a couple more years, make lieutenant colonel, and retire

on 22 years at $546 a month. There’s quite a difference there. You’re

September 1967

———

453

right, the hook and bait are there, dangling away! We’ll have to play it by

ear for a while and see better later on.

. . .

The other night we saw—that’s right, saw, because the speaker was

broken—Georgy Girl. What did she say?

Is that cat’s name really King Kong? It will take a powerful cat to live

up to that omnivorous name. My alarm didn’t get pulled out either, but

the H&MS duty NCO still woke me up at 20 after 0400 for the—ugh—

early, early. Horrible way to start the day.

. . .

Sleep time! It’s been a long day and I’d be crazy if I wasn’t tired.

Love you, Gig,

Ray

K . L

Friday

15 September 1967

Sweet Pie,

It’s Friday night and midnight and I’ve finished watching Auntie Mame

on TV with the kids and reading Time magazine.

We all cuddle up on

the beat-up couch in the den, and anyone who wiggles gets glared at. But

the two wigglers, Kirk and Kathy, don’t seem to get the message. Everyone

takes turns sitting by me to get warm and I come out of the whole deal

feeling like a popcorn. You just hear a good line and pop, somebody kicks,

or pop someone shifts, or pop, Kathy climbs up or down off my lap.

It’s weekend time and I’m glad for their company though. The days

have been rainy and gloomy and there is still a maybe hurricane down

near Cuba.

Hurricanes love me. . . .

I started to sort out the flurry of pictures and news copies you have

sent me and really did a double take on rereading all of them. When they

first came, I was more impressed with the pictures and didn’t read the

Auntie Mame, directed by Morton DaCosta, starring Rosalind Russell (Burbank, CA:

Warner Brothers, 1958).

On 20 September 1967, Hurricane Beulah made landfall near Brownsville, TX, as a

category 3 storm with 160+ mph winds and average rainfall of between 15–25 inches.

Chapter Twelve

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454

copy really closely, and then this time I discovered the different dates and

how very much you did accomplish under like—wow!—real combat condi-

tions and I got weak thinking about it.

I am very proud of you dear, and I really do think you deserve the

Distinguished Flying Cross for one or both of those missions.

I keep reading about Quang Ngai being Viet Cong country, and yet

you never talk about it being such off base. Whatever it is, I guess you’ll be

able to tell me about all that when you come home. We didn’t talk about

it in Hawaii, and it’s probably just as well if I don’t know too much for

the time being. . . .

Don is really on me to quit smoking and has taken my carton of

Kents, which I swear I just bought in a hurry instead of Old Golds.

I’m

lying. Mother tried to tussle with him to get them back for me—feeling

sorry for me—but he was stronger and she held up two fingers and said,

“I’m only 62!” (a la Kathy). . . .

Kathy was impossible today. We drove out to pick up the kids’ record

player at the appliance store and then the traffic was so bad we ended up

at Shoppers World. She told the world in a loud voice she had to go PEE

PEE—a new word for it learned today from another child—and then we all

searched frantically for the bathroom. . . .

Karen was thrilled that a music test showed she has “superior” music

ability, and I got a note to see about music lessons for her Monday morn-

ing. How about that? We may have to rent an instrument for her, but I

think I will do it for her ego’s sake. . . .

I keep remembering things we did last year in September like back-

to-school night. I did not go to Kirk’s tonight because I already knew

his teacher. But I remember the way you were mad because I sent you

off to Karen’s class and I went to Robin’s. I wish now we had gone

together.

Robin is still a tiger and had a tiger tantrum tonight when I told Kirk

he could have the extra sausage as she was “fat enough.” . . . Then I lec-

tured her on too many second helpings, which I let her have, and it was

all my fault, which made her feel better. She really wants to behave in all

aspects and hates to be wrong on any account.

Kent cigarettes were introduced in 1952 by R. J. Reynolds Tobacco as one of the first

filtered cigarettes, though the original version used an asbestos-based filter. Old Gold

cigarettes were also R. J. Reynolds products released in 1926.

September 1967

———

455

. . .

I must go to bed now, Love. I don’t like to share couches with kids but

don’t mind sharing beds with you. However, I really do think a bigger bed

is #1 order of the day when you come home. Let’s make that our present

to us.

Sweet XXXs,

Gig

K . L

Sunday

16 September 1967

Hi Honey,

How you doing? Hope your monsoon season hasn’t hit yet. Ours hit full

blast yesterday and ZUNK—it’s here! Canking flights left and right. Looks

like the flying will really slow down, darn it. Got canked myself.

A few of the new lieutenant colonel selectees you remember: Earle

Litzenberger, Paul K. German, Walter R. Limbach (by the grace of God),

Ken Vanek, Robert Chapin, Thomas K. Burk, John Rapp, Don J. Slee,

but not Ray Fostmeyer (passed over), Bob Ferguson, or Ray E. Bright, plus

many others I know but you don’t probably.

Yeah, a bad accident like that is really a wasteful crime. We had one of

our men lose an arm hitchhiking a ride in a Korean laundry truck a cou-

ple of weeks ago and another Marine with a broken neck plus one killed

several months ago—all stupid driving right here on the base.

Did you read a LOOK article by Edwin O. Reischauer about his views

on Vietnam? He has a deep understanding of the Asian mind, and our

own of course, pretty savvy all around. His closing remarks were perfect.

See if you can find the copy. The outside cover photo is of Julie Andrews

new look or something like that. Extremely thoughtful weighing all of the

real Vietnam problems and possible solutions.

So, okay, spend all your loot. Who gives a hoot? (sob) $100 coats?

Gold lame? Don’t scare me like that, Dozo. I have only one ulcer spot left

and I’m saving it for my grandchildren! See I do read and heed. It’s the

reaction that differs, not the assimilation.

Edwin O. Reischauer, “What Are Our Choices in Vietnam?,” LOOK, 19 September

1967.

Chapter Twelve

———

456

So, you took a trip all the way to San Antonio? With your mother, I

note. One of these rainy days, I’m taking a trip myself—like home, Baby—

and it promises not to be all that bad. . . .

October birthdays—Robbin, 9 October? Kirk, 24 October? Pris? Lu-

cille’s is 22 October. Did you send her the picture I sent?

Do you need glasses? Ha, are you kidding? You’ve needed glasses since

we were courting.

. . .

Have you ever heard of the movie The Professionals?

It’s playing to-

night, so I better slip up to the club (literally slip and slide in the mud).

Do you remember Ben Miller—he’s here—and Major James R. “Jim”

Throgmorton?

Less than two months now, huh?

Just came back from the flick. It really was good, not for the kiddies,

I’m sure. Ugh, I have the early tomorrow, so I best get some sleep.

Good night, Darling.

I love you,

Ray

K . L

Wednesday

20 September 1967

Darling,

You couldn’t find a much gloomier, wetter day than it is here today. Old

Hurricane Beulah has landed and is around Corpus Christi right now.

There are tornadoes around and all sorts of interesting things to hear on

the radio. They say it’s worse than Hurricane Carla, which hit when I was

here in 1961.

I swear hurricanes love me—maybe because I love them—

The Professionals, directed by Richard Brooks, starring Burt Lancaster, Lee Marvin, and

Jack Palance (Culver City, CA: Columbia Pictures, 1966).

Hurricane Beulah made landfall near Brownsville, TX, on 20 September 1967 as a

category 3 hurricane with 160 mph winds. It generated approximately 115 tornadoes in

the area and killed 15 people in Texas (58 casualties total). Hurricane Carla made landfall

near Port Arthur, TX, on 11 September 1961 as a category 4 storm with 145 mph winds,

killing 43 people.

September 1967

———

457

only it’s not as much fun when I can’t go to bed with you and cover my

head.

We have no trees to blow over in the front yard and not much to wor-

ry about in the backyard either.

. . .

Just got your itchy or was it bitchy letter from the mailman. Not much

news there! But I’m glad you still have the urge, if not the itch. That’s not

a very romantic way to talk about it though, really! However, I decipher a

slight note of anticipation about homecoming, which probably accounts

for the raunchy talk. I used to say I had to put you through a decompres-

sion chamber before you came home, but now I think I’ll add desaliniza-

tion to get some of the old salt out of you. . . .

Went to a coffee this AM with Mom—Armed Forces Wives. . . . We

agreed Marines have big families. It’s getting costly to move them. I expect

$25 a night for a room for our family now. It might be cheaper to fly out

there. Our car is not so new now anyway. It sure won’t hold trunks like the

old Mercury. Maybe we could sell this one and get a new one out there.

School is a factor now, you know. Well, I’ll check on a family plan air trip,

just for fun.

. . .

I’m sending Kirk’s latest “picture.” I said, “Kirk, the Nazis were our

enemies in the last war.” He said, “That’s okay, Mom. That’s me in a frog

suit about to plant a bomb and blow them up!” Oh.

Gotta check on the latest weather bulletin. You and the monsoons.

Me and the hurricanes. . . . That’s it! You read me! At last.

XXXs,

Gig

K . L

Wednesday

20 September 1967

Hi Honey,

You’re right, I couldn’t write to you last night. We had a “command”

show plus my freshly washed clothes were out on the line in the rain three

Chapter Twelve

———

458

different times. I finally just got them put away now and they’re still damp.

I hope they don’t start mildewing.

. . .

Back to the war—I’m not partaking today, just supporting, so I’m not

on the schedule. They’re saving me for the early, early, I’ll wager. They

ought to give the kid that wakes us up for the early a personal decoration

for guts, tact, and perseverance! A belated happy birthday to Pris please.

Thanks for telling me AFTER it’s over.

. . .

I’ll gladly trade all the action minutes in the world for the time we

begin our first minute together again. That’s when things will really start

all over again.

Goodnight, Sweetheart, kiss all my children and a firm pat on the

fanny for Pris. I’m sorry I missed her birthday.

Love you, Honey,

Ray

K . L

Thursday night

21 September 1967

Hello love,

I haven’t stared a hole through my calendar yet, but I’ve tried to. . . . I play

so many games with myself to help pass the time that I fool myself. Can

it really be that six weeks is a short time? I’m used to thinking in terms of

six months.

It’s a rainy wet night. Hurricane Beulah hangs on in dregs. Nothing

here but rain and one twister hit the Villa Capri. It really hurt Brownsville

though.

. . .

I have also been amused by our older daughters. Robin found one

sheet of paper I had written you and then changed my mind and didn’t

send it. I had said, “It’s supposed to be moonlight and roses, not itches

and bitches.” She got a very quizzical look on her face when I said don’t

read that and said, “I don’t even know what it MEANS!” I told her enig-

matically (good word), “That’s secret talk between Daddy and me.”

Karen in the meantime, made a 100 on a math test today and drew a

picture, which tells her problems with Kirk graphically. He is untrainable

September 1967

———

459

at the moment to her. However, I made her drill him tonight on math and

they ended up good friends for a while. . . .

. . .

On the whole, I’d say Kirk has obeyed me beautifully all year as much

as he was able to; his problem has been convincing others that he didn’t

have to obey them. He’s saving that for you. This is a fine distinction that

he and I understand but others don’t. In other words, he is saving his

loyalty for you and doesn’t have too much more to spare, except some for

Miss Mink. Don and Mom report that he is very good when alone with

them. It’s just babysitters, other children, and especially sisters whose or-

ders he rebukes.

I’m planning a bit more school pressure on him (i.e., drill) this year.

His spelling, arithmetic, and reading especially are still lousy, so I guess he

did need to repeat the grade after all. . . .

I just finished reading a very funny book about a family of 11, written

by the father, called, But, Daddy! He keeps trying to escape the kids with

a lifetime subscription to Playboy, a case of beer, and a color TV. Sounds

like you. He has only one leg, was a pilot, and has problems like getting

out of the bathtub on one leg on a floor full of jacks. He hops around,

yells for his wife, who says “Fall down!” and gets impaled by jacks on his

backside.

I was amused that you saw Georgy Girl with no sound. Imagine that

scene on the couch being seen by our impressionable young daughters.

Hard to explain. They seemed to understand that men are rapacious. Look

that word up. Means greedy. I told them all Georgy really wanted was a

baby, which seemed to satisfy their mother instincts. . . .

I had on my mustard dress today, which fit my mustard complexion

and crinkly mustard hair, and though I groaned at a mirror, Kirk said, “I

think that’s a nice dress Mother,” and melted my heart. Isn’t it wonderful

that love is blind? Be sure to wear your rose-colored glasses when you

come home, Dear. I’m so distressed over my looks, you really don’t need

to worry about yours at all. Not that you ever needed to, damn it. I’m

warm in bed. Will that help a little? Think of something.

Goodnight, Love,

Hopefully, Gig

Tom Buck, But Daddy! (New York: Morrow, 1967).

Chapter Twelve

———

460

K . L

Friday

22 September 1967

Hi Honey,

Your typing is better than my writing. You should get an award for even

having to try to decrypt it!

I guess hurricanes do love you. The radio this morning said some-

thing about 50 twisters in the Texas Gulf Coast area and as far north as

Victoria. Did they get up to Austin? I’m sure the high winds and heavy

rains did at any rate. Beulah—was that the name of the storm? Radio re-

ception isn’t too clear here, dear. Hear?

Quang Ngai is just over the river south from us—about 29 kilometers.

We’ve been getting quite a few secondary missions down there supporting

the Korean Marines mostly. Same with Tam Ky to the north, only support-

ing our Marines and the 101st Army Airborne Division.

Charlie Henry is here. You met him at Quantico. He was in VMFA-

312 with us, and he and Colonel Paul K. German and I were corporals

together a long time back. He’s having a wetting down party over at MAG-

12 (on the beach) tonight for his selection to lieutenant colonel and I’ve

been invited. I could be a bit smashed out tonight, and I don’t have one

hell of a lot to celebrate per se, except these last 38 odd days!

. . .

Whoops, it’s nighttime already. Just came back from a tremendous

hop. Normal VR [visual reconnaissance] A Shau DMZ plus tanking up

with a Lockheed C-130 Hercules and a fine secondary about 32 kilome-

ters west back into the mountains and rain here at Chu Lai. Recon team,

I think, was really close at only 100 meters away from the target. The Viet

Cong were in a clump of trees halfway up a mountain shooting at the

team and the choppers were trying to get them out, only the fire was too

strong. Couldn’t see too much through the trees, but the fire stopped

after the third run, and they [the choppers] were picking up the team as

we left the area. Not too bad an afternoon. Good enough for a couple of

beers, I think, and only 5 or 10 of those extra-long minutes I mentioned

on the secondary (two hours on the VR).

See you later, Honey. Love you!

Ray

September 1967

———

461

K . L

Sunday night

24 September 1967

Darling,

It seems like forever since I’ve heard from you. My last letter from you was

Thursday and that’s four days ago! But it was a newsy one. Yes, I’m glad

so many made lieutenant colonel, but they all deserved it, even Fort and

Bright. . . . Also, glad to hear Ben Miller is there. It’s good to have some

familiar faces around.

I missed the LOOK article but will try to get it. You’re very much

up on the news at least over there! I say that wryly because so much has

changed over here. We noticed it tonight (Mom and I) on the way home

from a movie on the Drag.

Shoes are square toed, low square heeled,

and buckled; dresses are like orange with purple stockings; buildings are

three-quarter parking lots, one-quarter housing on top for students with

coed dorms; and we got honked at and called “Grannies” for slowing

traffic while we parallel parked.

Also, we went to Zilker to picnic and swim and were surrounded by

a “Love In” with bongo drums, long hair, beards, beads, bells, sandals,

and loud music plus motorcycles.

Kirk and Walt climbed a tree and

heard, “I really dig that music, Man,” and Robin wanted to know what

that meant. They came home to our “old fashioned” Herman’s Hermits

records.

But back to us. Please just fly on home, Dear. Dallas or Houston, it’s

a short hop. I really can’t find my way around in those big cities alone,

and I was terrified the time I met you in Fort Worth. These “trips” I’ve

made have all been with someone else showing the way. I get lost anyplace

The Drag refers to a section of Guadalupe Street near the University of Texas campus.

For more on the derivation of the term and history of the area, see Alyssa Weinstein,

“Why Is the Stretch of Guadalupe that Runs Parallel to UT Campus Called ‘The Drag’?,”

KUT 90.5, Austin’s NPR Station, 27 August 2020.

Vulcan Gas Company and Night Productions hosted a community concert in Zilker

Park on 24 September 1967 that offered live music and food. See A Living Legacy: Honoring

Our Past, Celebrating Our Present and Creating Our Future—Austin Parks and Recreation Depart-

ment, 1928–2003 (Austin, TX: Parks and Recreation Department, 2003), 26.

Herman’s Hermits are an British rock/pop music group formed in 1964 who were pop-

ular in America with songs like “I’m Into Something Good,” “Henry the VII, I Am,” and

“Mrs. Brown, You’ve Got a Lovely Daughter.”

Chapter Twelve

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462

but Austin and sometimes even here! I really lead a very sheltered life and

always have, truth be told. Surely you know that! Every time you’ve trusted

me to read a map, we get lost, remember? And I can’t even read a map

anymore. The kids read it for me. Bit of myopia there. My talents lie in

other fields, ahem.

Now, we really are moving out on 15 November, aren’t we? I’ve given

the Balls that date, and someone called about the house yesterday. I’m so

hoping you’ll get home in early November, like the 3d because the 15th

will roar on us with so much to do. I know better than to count on it, but

I can hope! If it’s 12 months and 20 days as you say, that gives you 5 days

to proceed, and I know it only takes 1 day from Hawaii.

The hurricane is long over, but Barton Springs still showed the effect.

It was closed to just a dribble, and yet we still got a good splash in the

drain water.

. . .

I miss you, miss you, miss you, and begrudge every day now. Nasty

of me, isn’t it? I can admit it just a little bit, can’t I? For the sake of good

mental health? Shouldn’t suppress feelings too long you know. Bottled up

and the cork wants to pop out.

. . .

Kirk’s birthday is 9 October and Robin’s is 24 October. I wanted to

get Rob a new bicycle but can’t afford it. Can you, Daddy-o? Now that’s

a pointed question. I’ve only begged and pleaded for money for a whole

year, but I haven’t asked for more than $100 and that’s a pretty damn

good record for me. No joke.

. . .

Now, what do you think about that? You don’t ever answer my fi-

nancial thoughts except hey, we’ve already paid one month in advance.

Whoopee, but leave me to juggle alone and I keep telling you anyway, so

you can’t say, “You didn’t tell me!” Yes, good coats for women cost $100

nowadays and the cost of living has gone up. Dreadfully. I don’t mind that

so much, but I do want to protect my integrity as a solid gold shopper. I

know I scared you in Hawaii, blowing money, but really sweetie, that was

a once in a lifetime blow! . . .

Goodnight, Dearest. Thanks for listening this long. Wish I knew your

reactions in person. I bet it would save six pages. Don’t try to answer in

kind. I know you don’t have the time. But at midnight with the kids in

September 1967

———

463

bed, I’ve got all night and love every minute of it when I’m writing to you!

Hate to close up shop! That’s you, my love, that’s you.

See you in bed, soon, soon, soon . . .

Gig

K . L

Tuesday night

26 September 1967

Darling,

I’m sort of bushed, beat, tired, and fagged out tonight.

But I got two of

the nicest letters from you yesterday and today, and you are so “up” on me

at the moment that I feel we are on the same wavelength, so I can’t drop

the ball now. It’s so nice when you “hear” me.

. . .

I had my hair done today. No, I haven’t gone ape, it’s just part of the

after-permanent treatment. Then to the commissary to buy me, watasi,

two pairs of the new square-toed shoes. And I picked up three dresses for

the girls at the PX. All of this made me feel even broker than usual, but

the fall shopping is almost over, thank God. Only shoes for the girls left

to go. Dear old bank account is reading $529! I told you it might be rough

come fall, and it hasn’t been easy because of the icebox, among other

things that you are very well informed about!

. . .

I was really struck by your comment about these “heart-stopping”

“extra-long” minutes of action while doing your job. You are rarely dra-

matic about describing it, because who has time to describe action when

it happens so fast and so frequently, but it was fun to see a tiny glimpse of

what it feels like in combat and in action. No, combat is the wrong word

for your experiences. I mean the moments when you are on a secondary

over a live target! You say they are “extra-long,” which means something

happens to time out of the ordinary and that’s vivid enough for me. I

passed out in the back seat long ago!

. . .

But now down to Earth. Karen says moving will mean she won’t hear

Fagged out is a British idiom for being exhausted and bored.

Chapter Twelve

———

464

the “combo” that plays for graduating 6th graders into junior high, but

I’ve just about decided life is one big move anyway. Somebody is always

pushing us on, age or otherwise.

. . .

Gotta quit, Babe. I love you. Be a good boy! No more wetting down

sorties.

XXXs,

Gig

K . L

Sunday

24 September 1967

Hi Honey,

How is it today? Wet? Beulah get to you? I god da code—first cold in ages

so I have to make this afternoon’s hop low and short. Boy, finally our own

runway is open again—or at least half of it half the time, never really sure—

some people tear it up as fast as we can fix it!

Worst problem seems to be no beer, plus it looks like Colonel Carey

will be getting relieved around the first or second of the month.

Damn

it, I was hoping he’d stay until after I left. It’s one hell of a lot of paper-

work every time the commanding officer changes—fitness reports, award

recommendations—the whole bit. I can see one thing blinking off in the

horizon. It’s going to be hard to keep my interest up this last six weeks.

We’ve already done just about everything there is to do many times over.

How does a civilian think these days? Probably just as frustrating, only

over different things.

Colonel Carey is going to be the commanding officer at VMFA-

115, and Colonel Palmer is moving up to the group executive officer

(he’s been selected for colonel). Many changes of command ceremo-

nies. My new boss will be a Leroy Madera. He’s been selected for lieu-

MABS-13, ComdC September 1967, 1.

According to the command chronology LtCol Carey was replaced on 5 October by

LtCol Leroy A. Madera. MABS-13, ComdC October 1967, 1201077129, Box __, Folder

077, U.S. Marine Corps History Division Vietnam War Documents Collection, Vietnam

Center and Sam Johnson Vietnam Archive, Texas Tech University.

September 1967

———

465

tenant colonel. I don’t know too much about him. He just got here.

. . .

The noise over here only Kirk could really appreciate with the trucks,

tanks, big guns, little guns, 10 different jets, 8 different choppers, and

9 different propeller aircraft! Plus, the lizards make really funny noises

like birds, but the big cobras don’t make any noise, and the ducks, geese,

mud birds, and one lousy chicken—no one knows where he came from.

It’s nighttime now. I just came back from flying in some of the wildest

weather and a GCA [ground-controlled approach] final still in the gunk.

They toss out the tidbit of “Oh, the field is closed. What are your inten-

tions?” Well, you know me: persistent, stubborn, determined, and all that

bull. I lowed as how my “intentions” were to land somewhere here at Chu

Lai if they didn’t object too much. But, first things first, “Keep up the radar

approach, Stupid!” About a half kilometer out, I saw the runway lights and

continued my approach right over the tower, shaking a stern finger at

them and thinking, “I still have my rockets. I’ll shoot my way down!” After

much discussion on just where the runway was really broken, they let me

land. I wasn’t about to go back to Da Nang. Their weather was even worse,

if that’s imaginable. I no more than cleared the runway and was getting

my rockets unarmed when—swoosh—there goes a Douglas A-4 Skyhawk

off the end of the runway into the mud. Some people should walk, you

know? Fortunately, they picked him up, lifted him back on the hard sur-

face, lit him off, and he taxied back over to MAG-12.

Pretty lucky and

pretty stupid.

Then I went down to the club and sure thought they had a good flick

going: Those Magnificent Men in Their Flying Machines.

Outstanding flick.

Did you ever see it? Really great!

And lightning hit one of VMFA-323’s huts, and all the guys thought

it was an attack and they had been hit by the Viet Cong. They dived out

in the rain and gunk and into their bunker. It took the crash crew 10

minutes to get them and the fire out! Ha! They’d been hit by JC not VC!

According to the MABS-13 ComdC for October 1967, LtCol Leroy A. Madera took

command on 5 October.

The MABS-13 command chronology references a McDonnell Douglas F-4 Phantom II

aircraft recovery. MABS-13, ComdC September 1967, 1–2.

Those Magnificent Men in Their Flying Machines, directed by Ken Annakin, starring Stuart

Whitman and Sarah Miles (Los Angeles, CA: Twentieth Century-Fox, 1965).

Chapter Twelve

———

466

Brother, some night! Little bit for everybody. Time now to heat a

good hot shower and get some sleep. I’ve got the early, early tomorrow,

I hear.

Goodnight, Darling.

I do, do, do, love you,

Ray

K . L

Tuesday night

26 September 1967

Just got back from my 152d combat mission. The photograph was taken

Figure 44. A bomb-laden U.S. Marine Corps Douglas A-4E Skyhawk at

Chu Lai, Vietnam

Source: official U.S. Navy National Museum of Naval Aviation photo 1996.253.

4993.

September 1967

———

467

Sunday. The colonel was presenting my seventh Air Medal—got four more

in the mill somewhere, plus that not too strong DFC (Distinguished Fly-

ing Cross).

Why don’t you send one to Mom?

. . .

I’m sorry, no rose-colored glasses for me. Tell you what, you rent me a

pair to look at you and I’ll rent you a pair of fat glasses to look at me! I’m

skinny as hell, in case you haven’t noticed in pictures.

We all do have our

problems don’t we, Baby Doll?

Remember the last letter I wrote? It rained six damn inches that night!

Looked like “Waterland of the Pacific” around here. Last October, we had

30 inches of rain in one month. Looks like more of the same.

Gomen [I’m sorry], time for supper. Lamb chops, I hear.

Back from supper—it was lamb—not sure I’d vote it too high up on

the chow parade. But it was edible. Now, the flick was something not so

palatable. After two reels of Frankie Avalon in Ski Party, everyone up and

walked out.

Lord, what a mess. I wouldn’t say he was our most popular

movie star!

. . .

Just heard I have the early hop tomorrow. It’s getting to be a bit of a

drag. I know every fox hole, bunker, trench, automatic weapons position,

and SAM [surface-to-air missile] site for 400 kilometers. I don’t even carry

a map anymore; and when the TACAN [tactical air navigation system]

unlocks, the other guy will say, “How far out are we?” I’ll say, “Oh, about

40 kilometers.” Later, the TACAN locks on again at 39 kilometers. What

can I say?

MABS-13, ComdC September 1967, 1.

In Vietnam, U.S. rations (a.k.a. meal, combat, individual, or MCI) were distributed in

a cardboard box, which contained 1,200 calories from a can of meat (e.g., ham and lima

beans, or turkey loaf), a can of bread (e.g., crackers, hardtack, or cookies), and a can of des-

sert (e.g., applesauce, sliced peaches, or pound cake). The packaging caused significant is-

sues with pack weight and Marines would alter or abandon the meals until resupply, which

often meant going without. Though rations and supply had improved, feeding troops in

Vietnam was a particular challenge due to an undefined or shifting front. Mobile kitchen

trailers could carry food to units, but they did not offer refrigeration, leaving fresh foods

out of their daily caloric intake. See Chrissie Reilly, “Good Eats: Military Food Research

and Development,” DLA News, 20 April 2016.

At the time, musical-comedy beach party movies were popular, so Ski Party presented a

winter twist on that theme. Ski Party, directed by Alan Rafkin, starring Frankie Avalon,

Dwayne Hickman, Deborah Walley, Yvonne Craig, and Robert Lewis (Los Angeles, CA:

American International Pictures, 1965).

Chapter Twelve

———

468

Time to sleep, that’s what I say. Boy, if it wasn’t for my alarm clock,

I’d never get out of bed in the morning. I think I’ll sleep for a month—not

alone idiot!—when I get home.

Good night, Darling.

See you later.

Love,

Ray

K . L

Wednesday night

27 September 1967

Hello Sweet Man,

Look there. Only three days and five weeks from now, you’ll be home.

And today, our first cold front blew in. A beautiful breezy fall day in the

Figure 45. Maj Ray Stice with Marines at Chu Lai during a rare moment

of relaxation

Source: Stice family collection.

September 1967

———

469

middle 60s. You left home on 8 October 1966, and here we are almost

there again. Hard to believe, though we’ve both felt every long day and

“extra-long” minute.

. . .

I called the new principal at Casis about the clothing drive for Bong

Song (An Khe) Refugee Center and he said he will “think” about it if I

write him a letter. . . . This is going to be a whiz bang drive, as I said I’d

store the clothes in our den, providing they are out by 15 October. I don’t

want to mess with it after that, having messes of my own to contend with!

Many kids around this afternoon. Too many.

Tonight was peaceful though, and I read all about the new ABM [an-

tiballistic missile] system in Life magazine. Designed for erratic Chinese,

not sophisticated Russians, so Robert McNamara says.

Also, about a new drug called DPH [diphenhydramine], used as an

anticonvulsant for epileptics, which Dreyfus of the Dreyfus Mutual Fund,

discovered as a layman, to have calming effects on the nervous systems by

some strange process. Anyway, I’m going to write Milly about it for Lucile.

He called his discovery a 10,000-to-1 chance and used it to cure his own

hypertension.

. . .

I’m going to close this letter briefly tonight because I’m falling asleep

on my haunches. Floods are still bad in Harlingen and the valley. Even

Lynda Johnson and her Captain Robb cut short their Acapulco holiday

due to the rain and mess in Mexico. They showed Captain Robb review-

ing troops before Lynda and Lyndon B. Johnson [LBJ] right after their

engagement. Think you can hack LBJ’s daughter as a Marine wife? . . .

Oh yes, Evelyn Penn, my San Antonio trip playmate and next-door

neighbor, just came back from New York and Washington where she saw

her “friend,” James Hagerty, the ex-presidential press secretary.

She flirt-

“Defense Fantasy Now Come True,” Life, 29 September 1967, 28A–28C.

Albert Rosenfeld, “Wall Streeter’s Hunch Opens a Medical Frontier: 10,000-to-1 Pay-

off,” Life, 29 September 1967, 121–28.

James C. Hagerty was the White House press secretary during the Dwight D. Eisenhow-

er administration. He is most well-known for the Hagerty incident that occurred in June

1960, when Hagerty arrived in Tokyo and was mobbed by 6,000 protesters. The Ameri-

can group was eventually rescued by a U.S. Marine helicopter. See “180. Telegram from

the Embassy in Japan to the Department of State,” Foreign Relations of the United States,

1958–1960, vol. 18, Japan and Korea, ed., Madeline Chi and Louis J. Smith (Washington,

DC: Government Printing Office, 1994).

Chapter Twelve

———

470

ed with him by mistake on a plane and became his friend thereafter. Any-

way, they discussed YOU because Mr. Hagerty’s son is a Marine, so they

had lots in common! . . .

Gosh, it’s time to go to bed! When you meet Evelyn, you’ll under-

stand. Her son Walt has been our little friend all year to Kirk. And may

you never have to go away for so long again, because it’s too hard to ex-

plain at this distance.

Goodnight, Love,

Gig

K . L

Thursday

28 September 1967

Hi Sweetheart,

You’d think that one of these days I’ll be able to get to the PX and buy

some stationary. Well, it is hard, but this is my last envelope so somethings

gotta give! I’ve got it! I’ll just stop writing! No good? Want something else?

Okay, Saturday night I’ll steal some envelopes, then they’ll put me in jail

and give me some more stationary! . . .

Boy (girl?), do you realize this is the last week in September already?

I thought August was a bit slow, but not this month! Zap, and it’s damn

near shot clean through. As a matter of fact, the group S-1 [admin officer]

is having a hell of a time scrounging up my replacement. I’ll sure be glad

when these are the good old days!

Still god my node cold. The group flight surgeon is going up with me

this afternoon, so that should fix it.

I’m going to have a heck of a time finding everything I’ve had to sign

for, especially in the early days—bunker covers, bunks, and tents etc. Most

of it is long worn out or gone. I better work up a big survey list.

Remember Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?

It played here last night. I

think I missed half of his comments the first time, but still a bitchy picture

though.

Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, directed by Mike Nichols, starring Elizabeth Taylor and

Richard Burton (Burbank, CA: Warner Brothers, 1966). Gig’s brother, Don Kirkpatrick,

cowrote the music for the theme song of the movie that was first recorded by Jimmy Smith

in 1964.

September 1967

———

471

Still haven’t seen The Blue Max.

Don’t want to miss that one.

It’s nighttime now. You never met Jerry Ellis. He sat right beside me

all the time at AWS [Amphibious Warfare School] at Quantico.

Gutsy

bastard. He got hit this afternoon up near the DMZ just as he started to

roll into his run. He rolled on in and called the hit, dropped his bombs

on target, pulled up with a flared-out engine, zoom climbed to get some

altitude, headed for the sea, and ejected over water. The [Sikorsky HH-

3E helicopter] Jolly Green picked him up and headed for Dong Ha 19

kilometers away. Not Jerry, no sir, he talked his way all the way past Phu

Bai, past Da Nang, and all the way back here to Chu Lai more than 240

kilometers away! I sure was glad to see him. Hadn’t seen him since a

month ago, when I was controlling an airstrike in A Shau Valley and

I kept hearing this familiar voice rolling in. Well, he sure looked good

tonight at the club.

Good Lord, it’s after 2200 and I have the you know what tomorrow.

The flight surgeon was so busy using his glove for a bag he forgot to fix

my cold. Oh well, things do get better, I’m told. Think positively, that’s

what Jerry says.

Goodnight, Sweetheart.

I love you, Baby, really, really, really, and I miss you something fierce!

Ray

K . L

Friday

29 September 1967

Hi Sweet Man,

The mailman isn’t here yet, so I’ll play a quick game with you and see if

I win. Oops! I just lost. He’s rounding the corner. Max nix, I’ll write any-

way. It feels so good to sit down. I’ve been working. No letter from you.

Based on the 1964 novel by Jack D. Hunter, The Blue Max, directed by John Guillermin,

starring George Peppard, James Mason, and Ursula Andress (Los Angeles, CA: 20th Cen-

tury Fox, 1966).

AWS was originally the Company Grade Officers Course in 1921; it was renamed the

Amphibious Warfare School Junior Course in the 1930s; it was renamed simply Am-

phibious Warfare School in 1964; and evolved into the Expeditionary Warfare School in

2003. See “EWS History: History and Educational Philosophy,” Marine Corps University,

accessed 1 June 2023.

Chapter Twelve

———

472

. . .

I went out and got new clay parts to the gas stove. Kathy knocked it

over and broke them—$5 worth! And we have the oven and electric stove.

Perhaps it will warm up too in a day or so. We were okay last night, all

under blankets.

I’m not even surprised when things like that happen now. I know in

one month or so we’ll be out and away from the problem of this house

and probably will wish we had it back! At least a leaky roof is better than

none. Your housing hasn’t been exactly plush either, but at least it hasn’t

cost you dollaroos! I’m sure going to check heating and A/C units in

future houses.

. . .

A note [came home] from Casis that they want Kirk in a speech ther-

apy class. I can’t imagine why. He sounds just fine to me. I’ll talk to them.

It’s free, but there’s hardly a reason or time.

So many things not done—teeth, eyes, etc. neglected for us all. Maybe

on a base, I can catch up on that. Hope so. I need an internal exam too,

my yearly (SOP), and haven’t had one since Kathy was born. Maybe you

can tell me what’s going on when you come back! Okay, Doc?

So sorry you’ve got to change command at this late date. What a pain.

Just keep plugging as I am. It’ll all be over soon. In this case, life is bound

to get better!

President Johnson is to make a “major” speech on Vietnam tonight.

Sure wish it would be good news. I love you tenderly and will see you

soon! October is a coming!

Gig

K . L

Saturday

30 September 1967

Hi Honey,

Yep, it’s actually the last day in September, only one to go now. You prob-

ably gathered from the last envelope that we have orders now to [Marine

Corps Air Station] Beaufort. I still don’t have the physical papers but

Lyndon B. Johnson, “Address on Vietnam before the National Legislative Conference”

(speech, San Antonio, TX, 29 September 1967).

September 1967

———

473

T. K. Burke was coming back from R&R, and he stopped at the wing G-1

and that his orders to Cherry Point and ours to Beaufort were the only

two order modifications they had out of over 20 people. Beaufort is South

Carolina down on the coast between Charleston and Savannah. It’s about

16 kilometers from the ocean with a big river to the north and a small

one just to the south.

The base housing is all central air conditioned

and heated, and I hear the field grade quarters have fireplaces. Also, I

hear the grade school is right there in or next to the housing. Sounds

tremendous and far better than Cherry Point. I’ll be assigned to Marine

Aircraft Group 32 (MAG-32), which is the F-4 group, so I guess I’ll finally

get checked out in the F-4.

Really too bad not to have flown it in combat

though. I’d have so much more to offer a squadron. Oh well, facts are

facts. We almost got to Beaufort in 1958, remember? And then the wing

changed my orders to Camp Lejeune, North Carolina.

The past couple of days have been hard on people. Colonel Palmer

and his RIO had to get out and swim yesterday morning, then Cullen B.

St. Arnes . . . at noontime, and then Lieutenant Colonel Paul Sigmund

(commanding officer H&MS-13) and his RIO this morning. They’re pret-

ty sure they know what’s causing it fortunately. Otherwise, the weather

has been really beautiful the last two days. It’s still not enough to take six

salt pills before each hop, but cool in the evening, just right for a small

fan and a sheet.

I think Ray Fortmeyer got passed over because of his general outlook

on life. He always was totally inflexible and very hard set in his ways and

vocal as hell in expressing them. You have to be a little more flexible in

this day and age. That’s great for corporals and sergeants back in World

War II, but not for colonels in 1967.

I know Dallas or Houston is a “short hop,” but if it takes eight hours

between flights, forget it. It would be better to meet somewhere like at the

airport. We won’t be able to solve that one until I hit the coast.

So, 3 November is a rough date—it could be 5 or 6 November—we just

won’t know until pretty late in the month when all the booking lists come

out. And don’t forget the stopover in Okinawa that could be anywhere

Stice may be referring to the Beaufort, Coosawhatchie, Combahee, Coosaw, or Ashepoo

rivers. As a coastal area, there are a number of water features in the region.

According to Stice, Chronological Record of Duty Assignments, family collection,

MAG-32 was redesignated MAG-31 in March 1968.

Chapter Twelve

———

474

from one to two days there, again booking. They shuffle thousands of

people every day and it’s a hell of a job, I’m sure. At least there’s no delay

in Hawaii unless the aircraft is down, which is highly unlikely, and they

breakout another one right away.

. . .

You haven’t been to church ALL YEAR? Hm, what can I say, I haven’t

either, working around the clock. You know I’ve never had even a half a

day off in the last year?

As far as letting the world know you’re ready for me, yes, it’s good for

your brain to scream it out, “I’m tired of waiting.”

. . .

Pardon me. Both eyeballs just plum gave up the ghost. Goodnight,

Darling, see you in bed YET!

Ray

———

475

OCTOBER 1967

1 October 1967

Like Wow!

Hello Sweetheart,

I thought September would never end! Couldn’t believe my eyes when

I saw October was really here. It turned beautiful here—perfect fall days

with not a cloud in the sky. The kids and I had races out on the front yard.

Kathy got run over by eager beaver kids trying to keep up. But she got up

and kept running.

I must a god your code. Mine’s just a scratchy throat though. Hope

yours went away quickly.

. . .

Kirk, Kathy, and I had a quiet morning planning Kirk’s birthday,

and this afternoon we went to the park where we’ll have the party next

Saturday for six boys. I’m glad to have his birthday to work on, plus the

Vietnam orphanage clothes drive this next two weeks. It all helps. We got

very excited about some big waxed iced chicken boxes to mail the clothes

in, if Casis Elementary School comes through. We brought eight boxes

home from a forage behind the grocery store. Mom thinks she can get the

armed forces wives club—generals, colonels, and admirals’ wives—to pay

the postage.

A wild thing happened Friday night. There was a Victory Party from

Chapter Thirteen

———

476

Austin High School on Spring Lane. . . . [and] 400 hopped-up teenagers

arrived, zoomed in and out our driveway, walked in the middle of the

pitch-black street, slammed on brakes, had amplified music blaring at

2300, and then a girl got hit. The police car arrived and there was a real

traffic jam, and finally an ambulance and it was all over. I watched fasci-

nated and turned on the floodlights and hoped I wasn’t being invaded!

Friday night is just a wild night in Austin. It was in the paper the next

day. . . .

Karen and Robin asked about you Saturday and I read your two latest

letters, which fortunately had a note for both of them in it and one for

Kirk and Kathy too. It’s always nice when it works out that way. Natu-

rally, many letters are mostly to me, and they know it, so they were very

surprised and pleased you were thinking about them. They know a lot of

changes are coming for them, but like all children, they take things one

day at a time. They will feel this move more than others though, so it helps

when they know the reason (you) will be worth it. And they are beginning

to anticipate your homecoming. Kirk sewed an Air Force sergeant’s patch

on his shirt upside down and got an admiring look from Walt. Karen

and Robin are looking forward to some more popcorn binges with Dad

(a treat Mother does not indulge in), and Kathy knows I want a new bed

like her new bed. She’s a little vague about you because she doesn’t un-

derstand soon. It’s best to let time go by without them getting excited too

soon. But Mama (me) is about to pop at the thought of only four more

weekends. Maybe five? Six never hatch. I’d place my bets on five.

We had a great drive into the hills Friday afternoon. Really growing

over there! . . .

Well, anyway, we filled a weekend. It was lonesome at the park with-

out you. Hurry home. I love you!

Gig

K . L

The Austin-American Statesman ran a story dated 29 November 1967 that stated: “the

grand jury has opened an investigation apt to shake many a westside family.” It was an

in-depth inquiry into an after-game Austin High “victory party” on 29 September that

turned into a near riot.

October 1967

———

477

Monday

2 October 1967

Hi Honey,

You’ve been writing me such nice letters lately. Must be that last inning

stretch we’re both going through.

Well, it really is October. Next month, I’ll be home. Never know exact-

ly when but it’s there pure and simple.

. . .

Your bank account should be around $815 or so by today, so go ahead

and give Kirk a nature trail party and Robin a new bike (from the PX). You

don’t have to pay anymore rent.

You’re absolutely right. I took all those household bills with the ease

of the ancient mariner. Course I’ll have to get the roof fixed, and I think

sick bay has some more tranquilizers. I blow up so gracefully, you won’t

believe it! (Safer not too).

. . .

Oh, the houses at Beaufort aren’t new by any stretch of the imagina-

tion, in case I may have misled you, but everyone says they are really nice.

T. K. Burke’s going to call the wing tomorrow if our orders aren’t down

here by then. I’ll send you a couple copies so you can really believe it and

go out to Bergstrom to get the move set up. I’ll be there for the actual

move, of course, but they’ll need more time than that for coordinating all

their other moves. I’d say have them pack and pick up all the same day—14

November—and that would give us the majority of the 15th to see that the

house gets cleaned up. Or pack on 13 November and pick up on the 14th

if they need two days.

It’s dark now. I just came back from a not too bad hop, although the

weather was so bad I couldn’t get into A Shau. We’ve added Con Thien

(western DMZ), the Rockpile, and Cam Hoa to our recon routes and,

if the tanker isn’t up, well you have to be a real Scotsman to make the

rounds properly.

Today, [plane] number 4 had this freakish new orange

nose probe on it, and my new room/hooch mate Major Laurence A. “Lar-

The Rockpile refers to a military base (a.k.a. Elliot Combat Base) in the mountains south

of the DMZ and north of Route 9, which ran from the Laotian border to Dong Ha. For

more on Marine Corps use of this base, see Maj Gary L. Telfer, LtCol Lane Rogers, and V.

Keith Fleming, U.S. Marines in Vietnam: Fighting the North Vietnamese, 1967 (Washington,

DC: History and Museums Division, Headquarters Marine Corps, 1984).

Chapter Thirteen

———

478

ry” Campbell passed over lieutenant colonel S-4 [logistics/supply] says, “It

would NEVER EVER happen to him.” He came back this morning sans

his refueling probe. Ah ha! NEVER? Well, ALMOST never! Ha, he too

done got behind the “response curve!” And a former Lockheed C-130

Hercules pilot to boot! What a hell of a way to get ones yucks, I’ll admit,

but he’s the one that said it “can’t happen to me Ray. Gotta use a little

finesse!” Well, he done finessed himself out of a nose probe, that’s what

he done!

Had another nut knocking at my door last night. Everyone thought

he was drunk. He said his stomach hurt and he wanted to know where

sick bay was. I recalled how Dad had almost died from a ruptured appen-

dix when everyone thought he was drunk, so I took him over to sick bay.

He was really carrying on, swinging and swearing. A real number 10 wild

man. They kept him and took him out to the USS Sanctuary (AH 17)—one

of the hospital ships out here. I just don’t understand these young kids

getting that hit up about nothing. I don’t think I’ll ever understand that

aspect. If they were on the front lines, maybe it would make sense on oc-

casion. But not these guys. We haven’t been hit good since April! A lot of

stuff flying around outside the base, but not inside the perimeter. I guess

when we lowered our standards to those of the Army draft, that’s what

you get—these nerds.

. . .

Whoops, past my bedtime, Honey. I gotta shower and sleep. Can’t

wait to try a little of each with you. Plus a few niceties that I seem to re-

member more clearly now.

Goodnight, Sweetheart.

Love YOU,

Ray

P.S. Did you know that Major Theo F. “Jack” Aschenbeck had been passed

over twice? Apparently, he was the executive officer of a McDonnell Doug-

las F-4 Phantom II squadron and taxied out the mat at Cherry Point and

The Army was not the only Service impacted by Project 100,000 (a.k.a. McNamara’s

Morons), which was a controversial program initiated in October 1966 by Secretary of

Defense Robert McNamara to increase troops for the war in Vietnam by significantly

lowering draft standards, including mental and medical requirements. See Capt David A.

Dawson, The Impact of Project 100,000 on the Marine Corps (Washington, DC: History and

Museums Division, Headquarters Marine Corps, 1995).

October 1967

———

479

all of a sudden decided “this isn’t for me” and taxied back to the lines and

shut down. I guess he got relieved of duty and written up. One hell of a

fitness report. Weirdo.

K . L

Tuesday

3 October 1967

Hello Dar!

It’s morning (0800) and I woke up with the birds this morning. They are

an excitable lot. I think they’ve heard about a female hurricane called

Fern that’s 805 kilometers from Brownsville. Poor old Brownsville is now

wetsville and due for more from Fern.

It’s sort of misty moisty warm and I

don’t dread rain from that, but the weatherman says these lows pull down

cool air from Canada. I can do without cool air for a while since we are

sans furnace.

The kids just left for school. A few giggles caused Robin to dump a

bowl of corn flakes in her lap. And Karen wanted to carry a “chicken”

box to school bigger than she is for the clothes drive. I got Robin out of

the house mad, but with a clean dress on, and promised Karen I’d bring

the box “early!”

I feel very good and don’t know why. Maybe because I switched to

True cigarettes (less nicotine) and figure I’ll really quit when you come

home. You switch too.

Also, I woke up thinking of you, which is a great way to wake up!

Had some nice goodies happen yesterday. Your pictures came and your

smile was radiant. You’ve got that maneuver of handshake, smile, grab

award, hold it down so pat it looked like the colonel was surprised. Have

you done that before? Like YES, several times! I think I taught you how

in Beeville, and you’re so glad I’m not in the picture you beam at the

thought! Or maybe it was your training as a movie director with the kids—

cheese! Anyway, you’re halfway there toward running with Ronald W.

By the time Hurricane Fern made landfall on 4 October near Tampico, Mexico, it had

been downgraded to a tropical storm. As it immediately followed the destructive Hur-

ricane Beulah, it had significant impact on the area already dealing with the damaging

effects of the late September hurricane.

The True line of cigarettes was developed in the 1960s as the Lorillard Tobacco Compa-

ny’s “low-tar, low-nicotine” offering, with branding for the health concerned market and

messaging denoting loyalty, faithfulness, and trustworthiness.

Chapter Thirteen

———

480

Reagan in 1968!

Don’t wince. I’ll quit. It was a great picture and I like it.

That’s all. I like it. I like it!

. . .

I was so glad to hear you say how well you know the terrain by now.

That is a nice confidence builder. I’ll admit that flying to Hawaii sur-

prised me. If flying really has gotten that safe, I guess I’ve been behind. I

don’t have to hold the airplane up with my hands anymore! Are you as

good as they are? Better, you say? Well, then next time, you fly me to Ha-

waii. I’ll go! Sorry you can’t buy me a million-dollar jet. Richard Burton

just bought Elizabeth Taylor one.

Sort of a waste of money, don’t you

think? But a noble gesture!

You can do me a noble gesture by coming home, like sometime soon.

I’m already worrying how I’ll get the work done and look at you. That’s

like working with one hand tied behind your back. You just go ahead and

sleep late. I’ll do it then, providing you let me crawl out of bed and don’t

tempt me too much. My 2 hands have to cook for 10 hands. That calls for

some concentration occasionally! I might even tackle my skinny husband

and try to fatten him up. This euphoria may only last 3 months, so take

advantage of it! Kathy thinks I’d better quit. She’s right. I’d better.

XXXs (lots of them),

Gig

K . L

Wednesday

4 October 1967

Hi Dear,

Well now, your last tidbit really was news. It’s kind of nice to know where

In addition to a presidential election, 1968 was a tumultuous time: assassination of

Martin Luther King Jr. in April, riots, assassination of Robert F. Kennedy in June, and

continued opposition to the Vietnam War across the country. Reagan served two terms as

the Republican governor of California and would make an unsuccessful bid for president

in 1968, coming in third at the Republican convention behind Richard M. Nixon and

Nelson Rockefeller, respectively. See Glen Moore, “Ronald W. Reagan’s Campaign for

the Republication Party’s 1968 Presidential Nomination” (unpublished paper, Columbus

State University, 1992).

Hadley Hall Meares, “Crazy Love: Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton’s Epic Romance,”

Vanity Fair, 11 August 2020.

October 1967

———

481

we’re going at last. Now, if I just knew when you were coming home (the

third?) (For sure that is.) I’d really get on the ball.

We’re sort of beginning to simmer here anyway. . . . The clothes drive

is coming along nicely, though the school principal limited it to just Kar-

en, Robin, and Kirk’s rooms. We’re going to send it to the Bong Son

Center near An Khe.

. . .

The kids took the news about Beaufort well. They just wondered if

they will need their new coats in South Carolina.

I just wonder how in the heck we’ll all get settled, make the trip, etc.

. . .

The whole Houston gang (Tellepsens and relatives) comes up in late

October for a football game and Mom is hosting a party for them again.

I tell her not to, but she says she owes them all. It’s the weekend before

you come home, so they’ll just have to make another trip if they want to

see you. . . .

I owe a bunch of females for social favors which bothers me a bit. I try

to keep that down but it piles up like bills regardless, as you know from

your countless promotion or going away parties. If I could entertain in

this house, I’d be fat, but the damn rug ruins the looks of the house and

I don’t want to clean it until we move out.

Well, I’m not going to sit here and stew about my insignificant prob-

lems. Nothing is really important except your homecoming. I’m amused

and pleased that you try to worry with me about my hair. If I really took

you up on it, you’d scream at the price tag. Those lovely wigs cost $100!

No, nut, just worry about new mattresses, stove, second car, house,

schooling, move, furniture, income tax, etc. and you’ll be on my wave-

length. Or would you rather dream about sexy blondes, cars, boats, and

futures in the stock market? Your mother-in-law just made $600 on a sell

the other day incidentally. . . . That’s a good deal if I ever made one. Boy,

I’ll be glad when you’re HOME!

Gig

K . L

Chapter Thirteen

———

482

Wednesday

4 October 1967

Hi Honey,

Well, we’re all done switched over now and had the change of command

in a hanger because of the rain. The wing sent down a general but no

band. The usual goofs were made, with our new skipper introducing Col-

onel Edward N. LeFaivre as Colonel Keller (the general’s name). After-

ward, I told the general about introducing “my wif.” He said, “Hell, that’s

nothing. Sometimes I can’t think of my wife’s name!” (Does that qualify

me for general?)

Fleet Marine Force Pacific (FMFPAC) came out with a dispatch that

should get me in Da Nang a few days early, but I’m not sure there will be

anymore aircraft to fly us out. I should be in Da Nang about 28 October

roughly, with a couple days there, two or three in Okinawa, and home! I

should get home about the time I would have been leaving Da Nang (3 or

5 November) if it works.

. . .

I am getting more Gig conscious, however. Every time I look at

my bunk, I think “You’re too damn small and, worse yet, you’re damn

empty!”

All the people who weren’t here last monsoon season keep asking,

“Is it always this bad?” I keep telling them, “No, as a matter of fact, you’ll

look back as this sort of day as being a welcome relief from the real rain

and wind.”

Awful lot of going away parties. One of these days, It’ll be MINE!

Matter of fact, I have to go to one very shortly tonight. Colonel Williams

is leaving (group executive officer). Speaking of Williams, did you know

Lieutenant Colonel Lynn F. “Frank” Williams was back in jets and at Da

Nang of all places. I’ll have to look him up when I go through there.

Got to go. Oh, there are actually orders for us as you can see. They

just came in. How about that?

Goodnight, Darling, see you sooner than you know!

I love you, Gig,

Ray

K . L

October 1967

———

483

Friday afternoon

6 October 1967

Dear Nutsky,

Now look who’s writing 10-page letters! I’m puffing to keep up.

Things are slightly whirling dervish around here anyway, as Kirk’s

birthday is coinciding with the Vietnam orphan clothes drive. So, this

afternoon I’ll be lugging clothes home in chicken boxes and getting things

ready for Kirk’s party tomorrow morning. Mom threw up her hands and

said she’d make the cake. Don is taking the seven boys on a hike and the

rest of us bring up the rear echelon with a barrel’s chicken on Saturday

morning. I just got home from the commissary too—puffa, puffa.

. . .

Anyway, life is hard when you’re out of matches and have to singe

your nose and lashes to get a light on an electric stove. Being out of match-

es is part of my cutting down on smoking campaign. Only, I’m about to

burn up in exasperation.

. . .

Mom thinks our car with 22,000 miles on it will make the trip. The

car Don is considering has 29,000 on it!

Yes, I’ll go ahead with the paperwork on the move. It’s going to be

a wild move, and I’ll appreciate all the sanity and forethought we can

garnish. English majors are impossible, aren’t they? Bet you never “gar-

nished” anything in your life.

. . .

It’ll be nice I’m sure to have all that new dough when you’re home,

but I won’t have Austin shops, babysitters, or time like I’ve had here. You

blew all my good intentions like recovering furniture, buying mattresses,

etc. All the things I wrote and said I’d kinda like to do. But I guess you

didn’t get my message, Lunkhead. Don’t say I didn’t tell you so. Thanks

to Mom, a few things got repaired, that’s all.

Honey, I’m going to scold you for the last time this year. I may make

mistakes, like $10 fruit, but you’ve got to trust me to do the best I can

when you’re gone. When you leave me to make decisions, you must have

faith that I can make good ones. Otherwise, I am hamstrung, and nothing

gets done. You overprotect me, yet expect miracles. Well, miracles don’t

happen without dough.

You give me enough rope so that I don’t hang myself, but meanwhile I

Chapter Thirteen

———

484

strangle to death. You’re the head of the house. You make the money and

I like it that way. But bosses have to remember to encourage the initiative

of their employees. You’ve got to loosen the reins a bit. I get disappointed,

yup, I really do.

End of lecture #1967.

Be prepared to face the same old bed, same old nightgown, same old

towels, same old dresses, and same old me. Sure, I’ll be delighted to have

you back to help me make decisions. I just would have enjoyed making a

few ones all alone. Minor ones that is. . . .

Well, I hope not the latter. If there’s one good thing we can garnish—

love that word—from 1967, it will be mutual respect, except at curse time.

Maybe even then! I’m due next week.

Your loving, impossible lunkhead wif.

Gig

K . L

Sunday

8 October 1967

Hello Sweet Thing,

You are still sweet, aren’t you? If you’re NOT, well, watch out because I’m

going to sweeten up the hell out of you! I’m still the thoughtful, peaceful,

kind, patient—aren’t those beautiful words?—explosive bastard I always

was. No worse I hope! Are the kids ready for head popping and the fanny

dusting? Well, better get ready soon. I figure about four more weekends

and lookout!

If I hear a loud noise and you can’t find me just look under the table.

I’ll come out when they stop falling and the all-clear sounds. And don’t

worry if I toss down about six salt pills when we go for a cruise or if I

insist on carrying a loaded pistol all the time. And I’m sure the kids will

understand if I make them spread out on the hikes. And I’m sure I’ll take

the sandbags out from under the hood and floor of the car after a while.

If we’re coming up to a red light too fast and I yell, “Speed brakes now!”

you’ll understand, won’t you? You won’t have to boil the water for very

long, I’m sure. But I’ll raise hell if everyone doesn’t take their malaria pills

on time! You don’t think the kids will mind a foot inspection every day,

do you? Don’t want them to get trench foot, you know. And I’m death on

rusty weapons, man. Better get the kids some WD40 for their packs. And

October 1967

———

485

if I ask everyone if their harness is locked prior to take off, just answer up.

If I dress the tailhook and catch the wire, I’ll find out who didn’t have it

locked! The one with the bloody nose. The kids will understand if I yell,

“Turn down the audio!”

Brother, I can’t joke much longer, the darn hut is about to blow away!

This is one of the foulest nights we’ve ever had—storm right offshore and

monsoon rains plus typhoon winds. Poor trees are darn near flat over.

And wet, like a shower in here. I just hope the roof doesn’t blow off. What

a mess that would be. I just opened up my Hawaii bag (blue one) and, sure

enough, it had leaked in there too. My civvies are all wet. I guess the only

thing to do is go have a beer and forget—hah!—it for a couple of hours.

It’s the next morning now. Whew, what a night! The whole bit.

Better write to Lyndon B. Johnson and have him declare this a disas-

ter area for foreign aid or something.

See you later, Baby. I got to get to work.

Love you,

Ray

K . L

Sunday

8 October 1967

Hello Darling!

It’s been a year today. It really has. And guess what? Everything is exact-

ly the same, weather wise that is! The same gorgeous crisp fall day and

the same me, only I think I looked better last year. You said I was pretty

enough—“good enough” in your words—to take me with you then and I

felt highly complimented. Now I look in the mirror and think, “Major’s

wife?” I’ll never make it!

Well, anyway it’s very good to reach the landmark (calendar mark) of

this day and look back over a successful year instead of forward into an

unknown year. I’d celebrate with you if you were here. A nip of rosé wine

perhaps. But meanwhile, a cigarette and coffee and the sounds of the kids

outside on skateboards is enough. . . .

I scolded you in my last letter and have been regretting it for two days.

Can I rescind that letter? Resend that is? I try to be objective and logical

and end up sounding pained and hurt. Stupid, you say? I’m really “not all

that bad,” and I appreciate the times you ignore and forget or whatever

Chapter Thirteen

———

486

you do. Just keep on that way. You’re doing fine! Now that I’m back in

your good graces, forgiven, or whatever, I feel better.

. . .

It’s dusk now and I’ve got a steak cooking. In your honor, if not pres-

ence! I had a busy afternoon Friday collecting the clothes. Three fat boxes

from Casis Elementary School from our kids’ rooms. The principal limit-

ed it to that. Then I tore around and got more toys for a grab bag for the

boy’s party. Saturday was cloudy but Don and Mom showed, the house

got picked up, and the six boys came. They grabbed their toy airplanes,

made them, and flew them off the roof of the house before you could

wink. Don hustled them off to the park for their hike, and we went after

fried chicken at 2-Js.

. . .

Gotta quit now and celebrate—chomp, chomp. . . .

And now it’s near midnight. I feel really drowsy, like pre-curse time.

No energy either. I’m not 38 tonight, I’m 108.

Just wanted to say one more thing. I got to see Raymond Burr Vis-

its Vietnam, a TV special about Vietnam, which was really good. They

showed ships shooting north and south of Chu Lai off the coast and the

fishing boats going untouched. It was nice to know those guys are there

near you all.

I want you to call me long distance the minute you get to either Oki-

nawa or Hawaii. It will be worth it to know when you get out of Vietnam.

Save me a few gray hairs. And, oh Honey, come home soon!

I love you,

Gig

K . L

Tuesday

10 October 1967

Darling,

I can’t seem to get going on a letter to you tonight. I have torn up four

2-Js was a neighborhood burger and chicken joint with several locations in the Austin

area. It was known for its family atmosphere and cheap eats. They went out of business

in the 1990s.

In October 1967, NBC aired Raymond Burr Visits Vietnam, a documentary of one of his

visits to the country.

October 1967

———

487

starts already. Just a bit late at night. I rewarded myself with a TV movie

for several good deeds, none of which seem important enough to tell you

about. All I can think about is your homecoming, and I’m trying to keep

extra busy so the time will go by. So, my letters may sound exhausted for

the next couple of weeks!

. . .

Don came by with his new Ford Falcon (1964) and we all went out for

a spin in it.

I had a bit of car trouble myself. The gas filter got plugged

and the car was flooding, but the Texaco people fixed me right up. . . .

The weather is great, new furnace works great, and I’ve swept the

garage already, though it still needs sorting. I can’t seem to make much

headway out there.

Told [the landlord] to try to advertise the house, so we can have a free

week without people tromping in. Gonna get the rug cleaned and, oh

man, I’d hang up a welcome home flag if I could. Even Mom has the bug.

She’s painting her kitchen and got a new permanent.

Well, Love, just drop me short lines from now on, get your work

done, and come on home. I’ve got the hardest job right here waiting for

you I know for sure.

I must quit thinking about it and go to bed. Be a sweet, good man and

I’ll see you soon and love you up good!

Goodnight, Dear One,

Gig

K . L

Tuesday

10 October 1967

Hi Sweetheart,

Well, things are shaping up a bit for me anyway. Yesterday, a new Major

Daniel I. Carroll checked in (from Beaufort) as my relief, and the group

Ford built this model between 1960 and 1970 as a smaller and less expensive version

of the larger sedans on the market. It came in several variations, including two- and four-

door, hardtop and convertible, and even station wagons. The 1964 models ranged from as

low as $1,380 for the basic trim package to $4,070, though in today’s dollars that sticker

price would equate to approximately $13,027 and $38,422, respectively.

Chapter Thirteen

———

488

has requested a Da Nang date of 28 October be reserved for me.

shall see what we see there. And yesterday, the group executive officer,

Lieutenant Colonel Kenny C. Palmer, ordered me to go to Bangkok on

Thursday, 12 October. I’d forgotten I’d talked to him about one more

quick trip out of country before my time ran out, but it had slipped my

mind. I think we stay two days in Bangkok and then back to Da Nang

Saturday and, of course, hitch hike back to Chu Lai after that. I’ll have

to leave here tomorrow afternoon to make sure I’m in Da Nang at 0700

Thursday morning. That will give me the last two weeks to pack, survey

lost items, get shots, and start checking out. I have Dan a place next door

and then he’s going to move over here in my hooch.

It’s a lousy time for the squadron itself. In the last two months and

the next two months, all of our officers will have been rotated or relieved.

MABS came in-country just 13 months ago and that is our normal rota-

tion time individually.

Well, that’s the way it goes.

I hate to leave in some ways. Lord knows our efforts are there physical-

ly all over the place and now we’re shifting into a new phase of air station

concepts and redoing a lot of things that were done in haste because of

the pure out-and-out demand for certain things. But that’s all in every

other sense. I’m home already, like shots, I got five today and I only need

one more—tuberculosis skin test or something like that and even that’s

through.

Would you believe my relief knows all the people here that I had

never met before and had been in the same squadron with Colonel

Madera before a few years ago, so he’ll fit in like a glove. Not a bit wor-

ried about him.

Oh, by the way, this afternoon I got you a check for $100 and mailed

The MABS-13 command chronology lists Maj Carroll as the base services officer not

the executive officer, which was Maj Stice’s billet. See MABS-13, Command Chronology

(ComdC) November 1967, 1201077130, Box __, Folder 077, U.S. Marine Corps History

Division Vietnam War Documents Collection, Vietnam Center and Sam Johnson Viet-

nam Archive, Texas Tech University, 1.

The command chronologies for October and November 1967 show fairly consistent

average monthly strength at 556 in October and 546 in November, while October 1966

reported 454 personnel. See MABS-13, ComdC October 1967, 1; MABS-13, ComdC

November 1967, 1; and MABS-13, ComdC October 1966, 1.

For more on this test on military personnel, see James D. Mancuso, “Tuberculosis

Screening and Control in the US Military in War and Peace,” American Journal of Public

Health 107, no. 1 (January 2017): 60–67, https://doi.org/10.2105/AJPH.2016.303502.

October 1967

———

489

it at the pay office (stupid rule there), so that should do the trick, I hope!

Time to take a shower. Shower taken and time for bed. Shots feel so

good!

Goodnight, Darling, I’ll try to write you from Bangkok.

Love you, Baby,

Ray

K . L

Thursday

12 October 1967

Hello Darling,

So good to get your letter yesterday. I calmed down again. A couple of days

without mail and I start climbing the walls.

Three little girls are here this morning, making an awful racket, but

here goes anyway.

I’m delighted to hear the news that you’ll make it home by the 3d or

5th of November. That will give you 10 days here, and you’ll need it for all

reasons. That’s only three weeks away—marvelous!

I wrote [the landlord] that we’re going to start advertising the house,

so people won’t be tromping in while you’re home. Wish me luck. I’m

getting the rug cleaned early. . . .

. . .

Mom is having a party for the football gang 28 October (the Houston

crew), and I’ll be bubbling that last weekend, glad for something to get me

over the hump.

Just wish you’d be back for that, but it’s probably just as

well not to have to face a mob the first day back. They want to get football

tickets for you on 11 or 18 November.

Are you interested? Will we be

here? Good questions?

. . .

The kids are really excited about your homecoming. Kirk wants to

hang a sign “Home Sweet Home!” Karen says it’s hard to talk to you on

paper, but she obviously appreciated your sympathy over her not hearing

The University of Texas football had a winning season in 1967 with a 7-3 record. On 28

October, the Longhorns played against the Rice University Owls in Austin and won 28-6.

The Longhorns played in Austin on 11 November against Baylor University and won

24-0; on 18 November, they played in Austin against Texas Christian University and lost

24-17.

Chapter Thirteen

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490

the combo. They are all so pretty now and grownup in the sense of trying

to become ladies, or “yeadees” as Kathy calls them. You’ll have to become

a proper father for sure now and watch that swearing.

I don’t see much of Kirk these days. He’s too busy playing with boys.

He did bring his first girlfriend home the other day. A blonde with glasses.

He took her for a coke and went to her house and said, “Okay, Mom,” to

me for not giving him 50 cents to splurge on her.

I got to get Robin her new bike. Her birthday is 24 October and I

promised that. Money seems pretty okay ($593) and really should last

three more weeks! You were right. I made it after all and I apologize for

my worrying, but hell, it’s no fun to worry alone you know!

All for now, dearest. Call me collect from Okinawa! . . .

XXXs,

Gig

K . L

Friday

13 October 1967

Hotel Siam Intercontinental

Sripatum Palace Property

Rama I Road

Bangkok, Thailand

Hi Honey,

Well, guess where I am? Wrong! Right! Bangkok. Lord, what a plush

palace! You all would be tittering and gushing all over the place—strictly

number 1. We got here yesterday afternoon, and we’ll leave tomorrow

afternoon. I have been shopping like hell and got me a Thai silk tie (ty-ty)

and a Thai shirt (my white one got ruined in the rain the other day). You

don’t pronounce the H in Thailand.

Bangkok is one of the most beautiful cities I’ve ever seen. It is modern

as hell and building like crazy and yet the old is so indescribably on note,

it fits in great at the same time—the temples and pagodas and golden Bud-

dha’s and the palaces. Even the dress is progressive and full-blown minis

to boot, and their crazy mod styles and haircuts. Can’t get around these

people. Everything they have is either older or newer! You’d go out of your

living skull in the shops. It’s best you aren’t here for that as I’d hate to see

my wife having a heart attack not being able to know where to go next.

October 1967

———

491

Last night for supper, we went to the Shai Thang. Good Lord, what

a plush place to eat! You take off your shoes, of course, and go upstairs

to a beautifully old Siamese decorated, semidarkened single room with

carpets four inches thick and low, low tables. You sit and lean sort of (not

completely like the Japanese) and the wildest oriental (Siamese) food you

ever had with eight or nine courses, no menu, all the same, unheard of

meats, wild salads, way out vegetables, and lush fruits all spiced one way or

another.

Drinks of Lord knows what, and then these exotic beautifully

embroidered costumed dancers. And the music was out of this world too,

naturally. For about two hours, you’re actually back in the old regal Siam.

Once back downstairs, you pay $6 a head or, excuse me that’s1200 baht,

and a little girl passes out a loose handful of the sweetest smelling tiny

white fresh flowers. Well, I mean it was really something special.

Oh forgot, “we” means Lieutenant Colonel Roger D. “Bucky” Wal-

ters of all people and one guy from the wing staff and a grunt from Con

Thien. We’ll have to drop in and say hello to his wife if we go up that

way next month—Kilgore, Texas, I think. It sure was a surprise to see him

waiting for the same plane in Da Nang yesterday. Had a fine time talking

about old times. He still remembers how good the kids were and how he

liked Kirk—thought he was quite a boy.

I got your latest letter just before I left Chu Lai day before yesterday. I

saved it for on the plane to Bangkok. Love to buy you your own personal

jet, however, I’m just damn near bought out at the moment! Maybe next

year. I just need a few more things and I’m done here anyway.

You think it’s going to be hard for you to concentrate on your work

when I’m home, what about me? I can see me packing the car now with

everything upside down and either too much or forgetting something, like

soap and saipt (MPC). I had to take a shower in Da Nang and they won’t

take green [cash] there. Hell, at Chu Lai, we use whatever a man has and

give him whatever he doesn’t or can’t get. Maybe not too legal, but it’s a

whole lot more livable.

Gotta go get those last couple of Christmas goodies—sure going to be

hard holding out until Christmas.

A traditional Thai meal strikes a balance between sweet, sour, salty, spicy, and bitter

elements in a variety of family-style dishes that are shared by the table and fall into specific

categories: rice, fried noodles, noodle soup, salads, curries, soups, vegetables, meat or fish,

and dessert.

Chapter Thirteen

———

492

I love you, Gig, more than a stupid letter would ever say.

Ray

K . L

Saturday night

14 October 1967

Hello Dearest,

It’s near midnight here, and I sat down to write you an hour ago, but

when looking for paper, I ran across your college book Southeast Asia and

the World Today.

I peeked inside and, an hour later, here I am absorbed in

the drama of the past of that little country when the present is changing

even that past. Or something. I wish you were here to discuss it with me.

How about that? Your brain up there at University of Omaha, reading all

that interesting stuff, and now you’re there seeing it. That ought to make

you qualified to write about it too! Professor R. B. Stice, Associate Profes-

sor of Asian Studies.

Hey, Love, back to us. I haven’t written for a couple of days. I’ve been

busy, but I can’t remember why now. Oh yes, I went shopping with Mom

Friday and had a lovely time. Then I had to go shopping today to take it

all back and exchange it. Man, that’s work. And to top it all off, we came

home and ruthlessly cleaned out my closets. Last time I did that was five

years ago when you were in Japan. It was time again. . . .

Well, Sweet, that is surely the least of your worries. I just wanted you

to know how the thought of your coming home has given me enthusiasm

and interest in my looks again. I might be going to places with you again.

That’s pure heaven!

Oh, I tried on my lovely, beaded top you gave me for Christmas and

it’s perfect and we are dashing out to get a bottom to with it. Might make it

to the ball after all! It’s very satisfactory to know my husband knows what

looks good on me as well as my mother. Husband gets three stars at last!

And now to bed. Such a lonesome house with both of my men gone.

Kirk really has been a “little man” for me this year and gets three stars

from Dad for that. His physical help is nil but his moral support swell.

Oh yes, shades of his father, he was busy fixing his “bed” just right as he

drove off in the car.

Claude A. Buss, Southeast Asia and the World Today (Princeton, NJ: Van Nostrand, 1958).

October 1967

———

493

Goodnight, Dear Man. See you soon!

XXXs,

Gig

K . L

Sunday night

16 October 1967

Hi Honey,

Well, no more swanky hotels and back to you know where! The wing’s

hummer picked us up yesterday afternoon and, after a frantic taxi trip out

to the airport and a mad dash in the civilian terminal to change baht to

green (at a 10 percent discount naturally), I’m back in the cab. Whoa, get

in the military side?! Switch cabs—it’s a damn good thing we kept some

baht for souvenirs or he wouldn’t have gotten paid. Right on time, only

to wait an hour for three late captains, and back to Da Nang in the rain. I

fortunately caught a C-130 down here (in the rain) and got “home” about

2030. I washed a month’s load of clothes this afternoon and stuck them

outside really quick to dry between showers. While I was gone, they had

reroofed our hooch, so everything was filthy, dirty, and damp. Finally

clean and dry tonight. Well, relatively so.

Garnish means to brandish or cover. Garner is what you wanted, En-

glish Corporal, means to gather about or steal your forces. I think you

better look up the word (or should I?)

Kirk’s party sounded swell in spite of all the problems. I’m sure he

looks back at it as great. . . .

As far as a flyaway date from Da Nang, I still don’t have one. Wow,

the rain just turned on (literally) again with a fury. Good thing I just

pulled my clothes off the line! Plus three phone calls, that’s more than I

had all afternoon at work today.

. . .

Mom’s disappointed about our not going to Cherry Point? Sorry

about that. Beaufort is not too much further, so it depends on what she

has in mind. When the hell is Thanksgiving, the 23d of November? It’s

too far off to plan anything like that anyway. Housing is first and foremost

and nothing else matters right yet. Where, but mostly when. They have

lousy four-bedroom trailers you can rent—very few motels—while you wait

for base housing. Bucky spent a month in one. One guy zapped right in.

Chapter Thirteen

———

494

We just won’t know until I get home. I’ll either call him or fly on out if I

have to get on the list as soon as possible.

Did you get the $100 check yet? I started to write $100 sweat yet? It

sure has been the wettest, hottest everything-ish year I’ve ever spent.

One captain who should be leaving 20 October doesn’t have his fly

away date yet either. I’m using him as sort of a planning gauge for me if

our names don’t come out on the same list.

Time to take a shower and crawl into the pad. What else can you say

for three inches of foam on a hard board? I think I have the early, early

tomorrow. See you soon, Honey. Sorry I can’t say precisely when. Try to

Figure 46. Maj Ray Stice, pictured here as a captain, at his desk

Source: Stice family collection.

October 1967

———

495

relax on that if you can, then you won’t be disappointed if I’m a few days

late. Good night, Darling.

Love YOU!

XXXs yourself,

Ray

K . L

Tuesday

17 October 1967

Darling,

Such a bonanza day for me yesterday from you. I really was terribly sur-

prised by all three letters and couldn’t believe my eyes about the Bangkok

one. I kept saying, “No, he can’t be there. What’s he doing THERE?”

Good heavens, maybe it means a DELAY! I was certainly relieved to find

it was only a wonderful, unexpected trip for you and it did sound terrific!

Almost worth going to Vietnam for! Golly, bum, this makes Europe, Pan-

ama, Vietnam, China, Japan, Puerto Rico, and now Thailand all without

me. Double damn.

But aside from my green eyes, I was so happy you had Bucky Walters

to take my place for company. He’s pretty good company. A cheerful soul

at any rate and says nice things about our son. I hope you said likewise

about his or do you just rave about his blonde wife? It really was interesting

to me, having just read chapters in your Southeast Asia and the World Today

to read about their progress. I had no idea the Asians were so nationalistic

minded. Your report was slurpy good, and I could feel how plush it was in

my bones. I particularly liked those flowers you bought me!

It was all good news, and I even liked my $100! Saved in the nick of

time. You’re back soundly in my good graces. Now I really can get a new

bike for Robin and say it’s from Dad and not go around with a pinched

pocketbook. I feel like I’m fairly rolling in a sea of unexpected husbandly

love. That was a good little fanny boost from way across the sea.

So glad your shots are almost over too. Everything is pointing in the

right direction. By the way, I read today that mosquitoes love dark-skinned,

physically active, warm-skinned, males who shave in dark clothes, healthy

types who breathe heavily and have enough salt to be tasty. That means

they love you and you’re better off away from those jungle types, that’s for

sure.

Chapter Thirteen

———

496

. . .

The boys (Kirk and Don) got back from camping in my filthy car. I

had to get it washed yesterday, and it seems to be in good condition de-

spite their fording a swollen river.

It’s two weeks and three days approximately now until you’re home.

So glad your replacement is there and a good guy. That’s the best news yet.

Must close now as all are coming home from school.

I love you, Sweet Man. Call me from Okinawa collect—promise!

Gig

K . L

18 October 1967

Darling Babe,

How’s it going? Going my way? Sure, hope so. I couldn’t stand another

week as a real estate lady! Man, the calls are coming in thick and fast.

I’ve talked myself blue, telling people about the house and showing them

around. It’s not that I care about the house per se, I just want the people

off my back before you get here. They all sound like they have problems.

I say, “This is a really big house,” and they say, “That’s just what I need,”

then tell me they have two kids and work. And I repeat that it’s really big

and needs a full-time housekeeper and costs like fury to scare off the little

fish. Only big fish need apply!

. . .

Hey nut, how you be? With me? In two weeks and three days? I be

ready.

Robin is in tears tonight over no birthday party. I had a little chat and

told her to bring a favorite friend to see her NEW BIKE, special presento

Daddysan on birthday. She lowed as how Daddy did remember after all,

and oh yes, “It was possible Daddy might have Thailand birthday present

in bag” brought slight $ to my eyes, and before long there was a happy lit-

tle 10-year-old girl back to normal. She had slipped and told all girlfriends

about nonexistent birthday party and this was causing small discomfort.

New bike saved the day and all needs doing now is to go buy a new bike.

Hooray! Daddy saved the day. Mama is a no good louse.

Whenever there’s that slight doubt if Mama loves Robin as much as

Karen, Robin needs her Daddy. And Daddy always comes through—with

a slight nudge from Mama and women’s intuition wins again. As a mat-

October 1967

———

497

ter of fact, I enjoy the game of “Help! Daddy!” just as much as Robin

does.

. . .

That’s about it. I know the world will be right side up when you’re

around our side again. It’s cold back here. Cool to you, cold to me, so

wear a warm coat. But have no fear, it goes from 50 to 80 degrees everyday

here. That’s Texas.

Goodnight, Darling, hurry home!

Gigabeth

K . L

Thursday

19 October 1967

Hi Honey,

Well, you can take your pack off. I just flew my last hop. The gun squad-

rons don’t fly their pilots on the last couple of weeks before they rotate. So

why should we? Besides, I only have one more week, not two. Yesterday,

T. K. called up and told me I have a fly away date from Da Nang on 27

October, which is a day sooner than the best I could have hoped for and

a whole week before the worst possible date. I’ll have to leave here the

day before (the 26th) in order to be at Da Nang early the 27th and that is

precisely one week away. So I figured okay, you bastards, one more hop

and finite—no more! So, you approve? Thought so!

After say three days in Okinawa, say around 31 October, I leap out of

there for the coast and home and watch out for them goblins and ghosts

and gray-haired old aviators. It could be a wild Halloween, huh? I can

just see me elbowing my way through all the tricksters yelling, “This is my

treat. Get outta da way!”

. . .

Well, any who, from 30 October to 2 November, standby for the bad

guy (me in case you couldn’t guess.)

I missed Frank Williams. He went home last month.

Oh, by the way, I’m not going to call you from Okinawa. The fact that

I’m not flying anymore is worth a lot more believe me.

I ended up with about 163 combat missions as of this morning. That’s

enough for the kind of job I’ve had I think. Nothing to jump and shout

about, but tolerable. Just enough for 12 Air Medals. And unfortunately,

Chapter Thirteen

———

498

only that one hop got written up. I had many more as good or better. It’s

hard to get all the damage assessments back.

Well, better quit, anymore good news and you couldn’t stand it.

See you sooner now, Honey.

Love You!

Ray

K . L

Sunday

22 October 1967

Honey Baby,

I don’t know whether to write you or not, but it’s lonesome not to write,

so here goes a short note anyway. I’ve been cleaning house like mad, but

no renters yet, darn it. It’s a strain to be so clean in a house I’m going to

vacate so shortly! Not much incentive, except your homecoming. But I

can see you now, too bleary eyed to notice! However, it keeps me busy.

We bought Robin’s new bike yesterday. It took four hours and $38.

First an hour in the store to assemble one. They assembled the wrong one,

so offered the floor model for an even $38. I said okay and brought it

home. Chain fell off first thing. Took it to gas station and fixed. Then he

noticed no brakes, so back to store to weld on brakes. Whew! She loves it.

Meanwhile, Karen went to her first boy-girl party. Boys (6th grade)

played band. Girls listened and one “SMILED” at Karen for “NO

REASON!” Also, both Karen and Robin went to their first slumber party,

plus another birthday. They had a fine weekend, but all I did was play

bridge . . . and clean house.

I’m cross with everybody and know it’s cause I only want you. Nobody

else seems to fill the bill anymore. Funny thing though, nobody wants to

share the waiting agony, but they’ll all want your attention when you’re

home.

Don’s going off to sing in Dallas on 3 November, and I’m mad he

won’t be here to greet you. But I guess the world doesn’t revolve around

you for anybody but me and the kids and the Marine Corps! Karen almost

dropped the milk today when I said you might call from Okinawa.

I swear, waiting for a baby was never this bad. Doggone, we should

be able to suffer together. We could at least be company that way. This

October 1967

———

499

way I just wring my own hands. I’m not worried, just getting eager now.

You said don’t get too eager and I appreciate that you’re trying to keep me

calm. That does help a lot. Really

I bought a skirt to go with the top. I’m ready in spirit for all Marine

Corps Balls for the next two years. Ready or not, here I come. This one is

ready for 1967 or ’68 at least. In 1969, I’ll need a new one! . . .

I am absolutely missing you tremendously and there’s nothing to do

about it but go to bed.

There’s one small comfort. Somehow, you have managed to convince

me you’ve really missed me too, and that spells LOVE, and on the last

week of a long year, that is a wonderful word to quit on.

Darling, would you believe me if I said I love you, very humbly? The

humble part is because I allow myself the luxury of believing you love

me. You at least have proved it to me. If it’s because I’ve proved it to you,

Figure 47. Ray and Gig Stice dressed for the Marine Corps Ball

Source: Stice family collection.

Chapter Thirteen

———

500

then I would be amazed, because you’ve so far out stupped me. You win.

Hands down.

I am truly convinced man is a superior being to woman in the breadth

and depth of love. Funny thing to admit that, but a comforting one. As a

woman, it’s absolutely awe-inspiring. When a man loves you like that, it’s

like a grand slam in spades.

Enough, enough. I’ll turn your head. This one time, it’s safe to tell

you, I think! Goodnight, Dear One, my last midnight letter to you.

Your very devoted wife,

Gig

K . L

Sunday

29 October 1967

Hi Honey,

Finally got my revised fly away date for next Friday, 3 November. I’ll go

up to Da Nang Thursday the 2d of November and stay overnight there. I

checked with the CID yesterday about my pistol and apparently it will be

okay to ship it on to Beaufort.

What an agonizing last week, and still no

on-hand relief. Oh well, that’s the way it goes. I didn’t get one either when

I took over the job.

They sure are exacting on this “only five days allowed” for travel back

to the states. Up until last week, they let you have 10 days to get back in.

Seems like I always get caught in these stupid administrative shuffles.

Sounds like getting Robin’s bike squared away was really a blast. I

hope you gave the store one in return. But slumber parties—never happen,

no more!

Damn, I just heard that Dan Carroll, my original relief that I’ve been

working with the last two weeks and his RIO got shot down just a few min-

utes ago. Have to keep my fingers crossed for them. Nice way to start out?

Whew, they made it back (almost!) to Da Nang and ejected in the bay and

CID refers to Marine Corps Criminal Investigation Division, which would have been

responsible for approving the shipment of a military-issued weapon.

Though the policy was not available for this date, the current federal regulation for per-

manent change of station states that travel time is based on the official distance in travel

orders or 1 day for every 350 miles traveled.

October 1967

———

501

a chopper picked them both up. Well, if they don’t have back problems,

okay, at least their seats worked.

Looking at the calendar, I really only have three working days left

to finish some awards, fitness reports, and to finish sorting and packing

and checking out. They ought to go fast enough. I know the last week for

you has been lousy too. It’s damn hard to be patient all the time! A few

bitches and grunts and groans are well in order. I notice it the most after

I wake up in the middle of the night and I watch the flares and burners

and everything and have a quiet cigarette, thinking about you, of course.

By the time you get this letter, I should be in Okinawa. How long I

Notably, the MABS-13, ComdC October 1967, does not report the incident, though

Maj Carroll is not officially on the rolls for the squadron until November 1967.

Figure 48. Maj Ray Stice receives commemoration plaque from MABS-13

commander

Source: Stice family collection.

Chapter Thirteen

———

502

have to stay there is anyone’s fair guess, maybe one to three days. It only

takes about four or five hours to get to Okinawa, so I’ll get there Friday

afternoon. I’ll have to go from Kadena, all the way up the island (Camp

Hansen) to where my trunk is stored, and break out my greens to get them

cleaned and pressed right away. I have to wear the winter uniform for the

trip home. And they control all the flight booking for all the Marines

returning from out there too. I think we have to have TB tests and X-rays

out there too.

Excuse me, I got to go over to the liquid oxygen [LOX] plant. One of

our troopers just broke both legs under a full lox trailer.

It’s nighttime now, Dan looks great. He had been hit up near the

DMZ and almost made it to Da Nang when both engines quit from no

fuel from too many holes. He’ll be stiff tomorrow I’ll bet. His RIO is in

pretty good shape. And the man at the LOX plant is all set up for a trip

back home. He’s in a cast up to his ears almost. Good thing probably, he

was about to marry a Filipino bar girl he had met taking lox samples all

year long.

The snapshot was taken yesterday at a MAG-12 beach party the skip-

per and I went to for a short time.

Late, late, late. I gotta do it, Honey, catch some zzzs. Love you, Sweet-

heart, getting short finally.

Love you,

Ray

———

503

CONCLUSION

By John M. Curatola, PhD

Ray and Elizabeth “Gig” Stice established the next chapter of their life

as the war raged and American society continued to transform. Ray re-

turned from Vietnam in November 1967, but came home months before

the war’s next inflection point. The Tet Offensive began on 30 January

1968, signaling a new phase in the war. Hoping to cause a general pop-

ular uprising in the south, a collapse of the South Vietnamese govern-

ment, and a surrender of the ARVN, the Tet Offensive hit military and

political objectives throughout the Republic of Vietnam. The large-scale

Communist offensive came as a shock to many. What made it all the

more ironic was that for most of 1967, U.S. Military Advisory Com-

mand Vietnam (USMACV) commander, General William C. Westmo-

reland, espoused that the Viet Cong could no longer conduct sustained

combat operations. Thinking in terms of conventional military metrics,

the USMACV commander reported that Viet Cong forces had reached

what he referred to as the “crossover point.” This meant that the en-

emy had now expended more troops than they were gaining, which

precluded any sustained offensive combat operations for the future.

While Westmoreland believed this goal had been reached, the crossover

point proved a chimera. Despite overwhelming amounts of firepower

John M. Curatola

———

504

and military hardware, Communist forces continued their offensives.

Even before the Tet Offensive, most Americans had soured against

the war and continued U.S. involvement. In summer 1967, public opin-

ion polls supporting the war dropped below 50 percent for the first time

and would continue a downward trend. By October only 28 percent were

in favor of the war while thousands of Americans protested at the U.S.

Capitol and the Pentagon.

While the January Tet Offensive ultimately

failed in its three-fold mission, it succeeded in another way. It exacerbated

calls to end the war, with CBS Evening News anchorman Walter Cronkite

calling the entire endeavor in Southeast Asia into question.

Tet served

as the catalyst for the end of the Lyndon B. Johnson presidency. But on

a larger scale, after more than four years of conflict in Vietnam, America

had little to show for the effort. Decades earlier, the nation had defeated

the Axis powers in World War II in less time.

With Tet occurring in January, the rest of the year was equally tur-

bulent as America witnessed the assassinations of Martin Luther King Jr.

and Robert F. Kennedy, protesters at the Democratic National Conven-

tion in Chicago turned violent, and militant student activists on college

campuses reflecting growing social and political unrest. The frustrations

of the Vietnam War seem to reflect the larger American society. Perhaps

the only saving grace for 1968 came in December as the Apollo 8 space

program sent three astronauts to orbit the moon.

Ray Stice flew his last combat sorties on 19 October and departed

Vietnam the next month. Once home, he and Gig viewed this next inflec-

tion point from their new home at Marine Corps Air Station Beaufort,

South Carolina. After his return from Vietnam, Stice was assigned to

VMF(AW)-333 in December, serving as the squadron’s executive officer.

Here, he finally got to check-out in the McDonnell Douglas F-4 Phantom

II that he had so coveted in his previous tour. Unlike his earlier aircrafts

like the Douglas F4D Skyray and North America FJ2 Fury, the Phantom

II was a two-seat, twin-engine aircraft with advanced fire control systems

“Notes on Discussions With President Johnson,” in Foreign Relations of the United States,

1964–1968, vol. 5, Vietnam, 1967, ed. Kent Seig (Washington, DC: Government Printing

Office, 2002); and U.S.G. Sharp, Strategy for Defeat: Vietnam in Retrospect (Novato, CA:

Presidio Press, 1978)136.

George H. Gallup, The Gallup Poll: Public Opinion, 1935–1971, 3 vols. (New York: Ran-

dom House, 1972).

Walter Cronkite, “Report from Vietnam,” CBS Evening News, 27 February 1968.

Conclusion

———

505

and capable of Mach 2 supersonic speeds. Ten months later, Stice was

transferred to Headquarters & Maintenance Squadron 31 (H&HM-31)

and served as Marine Aircraft Group 31 (MAG-31) S-4 logistics officer for

the next 18 months.

Stice continued his Marine Corps service until 1970, finishing his

career at MAG-31. He had seen much during his years as a Marine. He,

Elizabeth, and the entire Stice family witnessed a transformation of Amer-

ica in the decades following World War II. During this time, the United

States emerged from the global conflict as a world power both militari-

ly and economically, becoming the guarantor of democracy in the face

of Communist incursions, and despite its many flaws remained the best

hope for democracies around the globe. The Stice family were witness

to these new roles for the nation, but also experienced the changes to

the country’s social and political fabric. Their letters offer a first-hand

account and testament of a changing America—a nation that continues

to change today.

———

507

SELECT

BIBLIOGRAPHY AND

SUGGESTED FURTHER

READING

Archival Documents

Marine Air Base Squadron 13 (MABS-13). Command Chronology (ComdC), Feb-

ruary 1967. Box __, Folder 077, 1201077121. U.S. Marine Corps Histo-

ry Division Vietnam War Documents Collection, Vietnam Center and

Sam Johnson Vietnam Archive, Texas Tech University, Lubbock, TX.

MABS-13. ComdC, 1–28 February 1967. Marine Corps Archives Branch, Quan-

tico, VA.

MABS-13. ComdC, 1–31 March 1967. Marine Corps Archives Branch.

MABS-13. ComdC, 1–31 May 1967. Marine Corps Archives Branch.

MABS-13. ComdC, December 1966. Box __, Folder 077, 1201077119. U.S. Ma-

rine Corps History Division Vietnam War Documents Collection, Viet-

nam Center and Sam Johnson Vietnam Archive, Texas Tech University.

Marine Aircraft Group 13, ComdC, October 1966. Box __, Folder 098, U.S. Ma-

rine Corps History Division Vietnam War Documents Collection, Viet-

nam Center and Sam Johnson Vietnam Archive, Texas Tech University.

Stice, Ray B. “Chronological Record of Duty Assignments, 19 June 1946 to 31

March 1970.” Stice family collection.

Official Histories and Government Publications

Annual Report of the Surgeon General United States Army, Fiscal Year 1961. Wash-

ington, DC: Office of the Surgeon General, Department of the Army,

1961.

Select Bibliography and Suggested Further Reading

———

508

Berger, Gen David H. Talent Management 2030. Washington, DC: Headquarters

Marine Corps, 2021.

Bergsma, Cdr Herbert L. Chaplains with Marines in Vietnam, 1962–1971. Washing-

ton, DC: History and Museums Division, Headquarters Marine Corps,

1985.

Camp, Col Richard D., Jr., USMC (Ret). Death in the Imperial City: U.S. Marines

in the Battle for Hue, 31 January to 2 March 1968. Quantico, VA: Marine

Corps History Division, 2018.

Chapin, Capt John C., USMCR. A History of Marine Fighter Attack Squadron 115.

Washington, DC: History and Museums Division, Headquarters Ma-

rine Corps, 1988.

Cosmas, Graham A. MACV: The Joint Command in the Years of Escalation, 1962–

1967. Washington, DC: U.S. Army Center of Military History, 2006.

Dawson, Capt David A. The Impact of Project 100,000 on the Marine Corps. Wash-

ington, DC: History and Museums Division, Headquarters Marine

Corps, 1995.

Donnelly, Ralph W., Gabrielle N. Neufeld, and Carolyn A. Tyson. A Chronology

of the United States Marine Corps, 1947–1964. Vol. 3. Washington, DC:

Historical Division, Headquarters Marine Corps, 1971.

Dunn, LtGen Carroll H. Base Development in South Vietnam, 1965–1970. Vietnam

Studies. Washington, DC: Department of the Army, 1991.

“The Effects of U.S. Bombing on North Vietnam’s Ability to Support Military

Operations in South Vietnam and Laos: Retrospect and Prospect,” 29

August 1966. National Security File, Country File, Vietnam, box 192,

The Effects of U.S. Bombing. Johnson Library, University of Texas,

Austin.

Flying Hours: Overview of Navy and Marine Corps Flight Operations. Washington,

DC: General Accounting Office, 1991.

Gerhard, William D., and Henry W. Millington. United States Cryptologic History:

Special Series Crisis Collection. Vol. 1, Attack on a Sigint Collector the U.S.S.

Liberty. Washington, DC: National Security Agency, 1981.

Givens, Adam. The Mobility War: Marine Corps Helicopters in Vietnam, 1962–1975.

Quantico, VA: Marine Corps History Division, 2023.

Hearings before the Committee on Foreign Relations on News Policies in Vietnam. U.S.

Senate, 89th Cong., 2d Sess. (2 and 31 August 1966).

Herman, Jan K. Navy Medicine in Vietnam: Passage to Freedom to the Fall of Saigon.

Washington, DC: Naval History and Heritage Command, Department

of the Navy, 2010.

Holliday, L. P., and R. M. Gurfield. Viet Cong Logistics. Santa Monica, CA: Rand,

prepared for Office of the Assistant Secretary of Defense/International

Security Affairs and the Advanced Research Projects Agency, 1968.

Humphrey, David C., and David S. Patterson, eds. Foreign Relations of the United

States, 1964–1968. Vol. 4, Vietnam, 1966. Washington, DC: Govern-

ment Printing Office, 1998.

Select Bibliography and Suggested Further Reading

———

509

Krulak, LtGen Victor H. Oral History Transcript. Interviewed by Benis M.

Frank. Historical Division, Headquarters Marine Corps, Washington,

DC, 1973.

Marine Corps Bulletin 1400 (MCBul 1400), Marine Corps Promotion Manual. Vol. 1,

Officer Promotions (1967).

Mrozek, Donald J. Air Power and the Ground War in Vietnam: Ideas and Actions.

Maxwell Air Force Base, AL: Air University Press, 1988.

Nalty, Bernard C., Truman R. Stonebridge, Edwin T. Turnbladh, and Rowland P.

Gill. United States Marine Corps Ranks and Grades, 1775–1969. Washing-

ton, DC: Historical Division, Headquarters Marine Corps, 1970.

NORAD/CONAD Historical Summary, January–December 1966. Colorado Springs,

CO: Command History Division, Secretary Joint Staff, Headquarters

NORAD/CONAD, 1967.

OPNAV Instruction 3710.7U, NATOPS General Flight and Operating Instructions.

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———

515

INDEX

ABC (network), 8n10, 177n1, 233n16,

313n70, 425n16

Acey, Maj J. B., 22–23, 67, 219

aircraft

Beechcraft C-45 Expeditor, 12

Bell UH-1 Iroquois (Huey), 288

Boeing B-17 Flying Fortress, 313

Boeing FB Phantom 10

Cessna 310, 11

Cessna O-1 Bird Dog, 109, 148,

392, 411

De Havilland DHC-3 (T U-1), 9

Douglas A-4 Skyhawk, 5, 10, 23,

64, 100–1, 109, 134, 301n11,

305, 358, 372, 411, 432, 434,

465–66

Douglas C-117 Skytrain (Gooney

Bird), 49, 195, 263n20, 357

Douglas F4D Skyray, 6, 10, 313,

504

Fairchild C-119 Flying Boxcar, 12

Grumman A-6 Intruder, 230,

238, 313

Grumman F8F Bearcat, 10

Grumman F9F-2 Panther, 9

Grumman TF-9J Cougar, 7, 9,

11–12, 22–23, 26, 49, 89,

109, 156, 186, 252, 293–94,

402, 413, 441

Lockheed C-130 Hercules, 33,

65, 112, 145, 149, 156, 164,

339, 460, 478, 493

Lockheed C-140 Jetstar, 11

Lockheed C-180 Skywagon, 12

Lockheed F-104 Starfighter, 110

McDonnell Douglas F-4B

Phantom II, 10, 22, 100,

109, 139n16, 156, 195–96,

232, 263, 313, 317, 372, 419,

465n33, 478–79, 504

McDonnell F-101 Voodoo, 185

MiG, 139, 196

NC-5 Curtis flying boat, 237

North American F-100 Super

Sabres, 165

North American FJ2 Fury, 6, 9, 504

North American SNJ-4, 11

North American T-28 Trojan, 11

North American XB-70 Valkyrie,

87–88

Index

———

516

aircraft (continued)

Sikorsky HH-3E Jolly Green

Giant, 307, 372, 471

Vought F-8 Crusader, 109, 372,

423

air liaison officer (ALO), 300, 323

Alfie, 200

A Man for All Seasons, 259, 282

Armed Forces Wives, 96, 457, 475

Army of the Republic of Vietnam

(ARVN), 4, 80, 226–27, 503

18th ARVN Division, 80

Army Post Office (APO), 17, 24–25

Aschenbeck, Maj Theo F., 306, 478

Austin-American Statesman, 57n19, 119,

449n13, 476n1

awards/commendations

Air Medal, 8, 86, 94, 115, 119,

125, 142–43, 151, 213, 299,

309, 316, 350, 419, 441, 467,

497

Bronze Star, 201, 332, 337, 341,

350, 382

Congressional Medal of Honor,

95, 393, 444

Distinguished Flying Cross

(DFC), 142, 219, 357, 419,

441, 452, 454, 467

Marine Corps Commendation

Medal, 142, 201

Vietnam Cross of Gallantry, 357,

392

Bambi, 98

Bangkok, Thailand, 58, 157, 167, 179,

202, 423, 488–91, 495

battle damage assessment (BDA),

306–7, 411–12, 419, 425, 431

Bergstrom Air Force Base, Austin, TX,

28, 40, 76, 108, 128, 191, 205,

273, 427, 441, 477

Blue Book, 194, 434n21

Blue Max, 40, 471

Bright, Maj Ray E., 301, 408, 411,

432, 455, 461

Brown, Maj Charles W., 278

Brown, Charlie, 106, 120, 122

Burke, Alan, 405, 440

Burke, Maj T. K., 265, 366, 400, 431,

473, 477

Cady, Maj Michael P., 194

Carey, Col Richard E., 347n3, 393,

448, 464–65

Carroll, Maj Daniel I., 487–88, 500,

501n20

Carson, Johnny, 141, 242, 251, 260

CBS (network), 232, 233n16, 250,

504

close air support (CAS), 4–5, 8, 109,

178, 371n1

Communism/ist, 4, 8, 22n16, 35,

191, 222, 311n18, 344, 503–5

Cronkite, Walter, 233n16, 504

Cubi Point, Philippines, 287, 363,

380, 382

Cushman, Gen Robert E., 379, 384

demilitarized zone (DMZ), 46, 56, 62,

69, 88n60, 104, 109, 134, 187,

208–9, 230, 305, 307, 316, 318,

335, 341, 343, 371–72, 380, 392,

380, 392, 423, 448, 460, 471,

477, 502

Dengler, Lt Dieter, USN, 216

Diller, Phyllis, 153

Dirty Dozen, 427

Doctor Zhivago, 48

Domina, LtCol Walter E., 158,

320n30

Douglas, Maj Richard T., 25, 109,

119, 156

Esterline, Charles S., 219

explosive ordnance disposal (EOD),

7, 68

Index

———

517

Fagerskog, Maj Henry D., 278, 438

Faulkner, Capt J. P., 134, 149, 357,

371

Fleet Marine Force, Pacific ( FMFPAC),

5, 202, 482

Fortmeyer, Maj Ray, 411, 473

forward air controller (FAC), 8, 109,

150, 300, 305

Foulger, Maj Stephen R., 441

Fulbright, J. William, 315, 316n25,

324, 327, 342, 344–46, 352

Futenma, Japan, 339, 342

Gagnon, Maj Louis F., 26, 49, 52, 56,

66, 71, 75, 123, 195, 219, 234,

256, 357

Geneva Accords, 4

Georgy Girl, 412, 453, 459

German, Col Paul K., 171, 455, 460

Gondek, Maj Robert L., 419

Green, Gen Wallace M., 144, 146,

155

ground controlled approach (GCA),

29, 104, 118, 129 164n46, 325,

465

Gulf of Tonkin, 4

Hicks, 2dLt Edwin Q., 408–9

Hilo Hattie, 172

Hope, Bob, 120, 153n34, 158

Hunter-Brinkley Report, 169, 285

Ilikai Hotel, Hawaii, 173, 183, 185,

187, 194, 197, 215, 219–20,

224–25, 227, 236, 269, 284, 291

immunizations (shots), 18n5, 19, 24,

172, 191, 199, 205, 215, 226,

488–89, 495

Israel, 318, 341

Jacobs, Maj Phillip M., 411–15, 431,

438–39

Japan, 15, 19n6, 20, 25, 30, 64, 81,

104, 112–13, 123, 154, 156, 163,

179, 194, 304, 339, 350, 492, 495

jet-assisted take-off (JATO), 100, 145

Johnson, Lyndon B., 4n2, 5, 20, 24,

36, 54n16, 96n7, 118, 142, 195,

239, 316n25, 351n24, 388, 469,

472, 485, 504

Julian, Capt Hugh L., 275

Kadena, Okinawa, 15, 19, 22, 24, 88,

93, 339, 342, 502

Keller, LtCol Gordon H., 156, 275,

482

Kennedy, John F., 203n27, 205,

480n6, 504

killed in action (KIA), 253, 339

Klingensmith, Maj Cloyd H., 22, 197

Krulak, Gen Victor H., 5, 39, 42, 47

Lasseter, Maj Lee T., 438

Leatherneck, 178

Life magazine, 69, 87–88, 102, 141,

251, 327, 469

Limbach, Maj Walter R., 455

Linehan, LCdr Timothy J., 119

Litzenberger, Maj Earl D., 66, 307

Look magazine, 203, 422

Mackey, Maj William W., 156

Madera, LtCol Leroy A., 465, 488

Marine Corps Ball/Birthday, 121,

437, 442, 452, 499

Martin, Maj Bruce A., 372

McNamara, Robert S., 42n44, 343,

375–76, 380, 469, 478n3

Miller, LtCol James E., 328, 380

missing in action (MIA), 235

Morrill, Maj David W., 159–60, 167,

194, 230, 253, 258–59

Murphy, LtCol John T., 26

Nelbach, LtCol Arthur A., 423

Newell, Maj James F., 350

Index

———

518

nuclear/biomedical/chemical (NBC),

301, 304–6

O’Donnell, Lt Andrew W., 232

Okinawa, Japan, 15–25, 58, 88, 98,

100–4, 110, 123, 133, 138, 149,

156–58, 172–73, 179, 186, 225,

227, 278, 336–37, 343, 349–50,

353, 367, 400, 418, 423, 473,

482, 486, 490, 497, 501–2

Old Yeller, 126, 137, 436

Olds, Col Robin

Oliver!, 41, 50

Oppenheimer, J. Robert, 204

Owens, Col Owen L., 13, 33, 58, 67,

81, 85, 104, 112, 142, 149, 158,

161–62, 165, 167, 179, 186, 201,

227, 280, 337, 339, 350

Palmer, LtCol Kenny C., 230, 234,

241, 304, 312, 325, 357, 363, 374,

381, 392–93, 409, 465, 473, 488

Pendergraft, Maj Ray D., 88, 92, 357,

371–72, 377, 411

Percy, Charles, 55

Petty, Col Douglas D., 115, 144,

167–68, 209

Pickle, James J., 203

Playboy, 51, 66–67, 81, 84, 86, 102,

114, 141, 146, 149, 155, 157, 159,

161, 167, 222, 272, 279, 284, 435,

444, 459

Presley, Elvis, 15, 48, 137

radar intercept officer (RIO), 194,

253, 303, 371–72

Radich, John T., 194, 332, 385

Raye, Martha, 75, 83

Reagan, Ronald W., 55, 480n6

Red Cross, 98, 118, 274, 373, 418–20

Republic of Korea (ROK), 20

ROK Marines, 20, 150, 378, 450,

460

Republic of Vietnam (RVN), 19–20,

366, 392, 439, 503

Ritter, Tex, 174

RMK/RBJ, 158, 201

Robertshaw, Gen Louis B., 70,

215–16, 262–63, 304, 313n20

Roche, Maj Robert T., 62, 311

Safer, Morley, 233n16, 250

Saturday Evening Post, 311

Sears Roebuck, 15, 53, 86, 93, 133,

138, 159, 161, 167, 172, 176, 180,

186, 211, 251, 255, 256, 265, 268,

277, 427, 443

Short Airfield for Tactical Support

(SATS), 5, 100n12, 101

Simon, Capt Clyde C., 22, 56, 58,

224

South China Sea, 23, 62, 263, 278,

334, 348

Spearman, Capt David G., 371n1,

372, 411

Stars and Stripes, 165, 288

Strategic Air Command (SAC), 76

Sullivan, Ed, 43

surface-to-air missile (SAM), 196, 380,

407, 448

Tactical Air Command (TAC), 76

tactical air coordinator (airborne)

(TACA), 64

tactical air navigation system

(TACAN), 104, 129, 325, 467

tactical command (TACOM), 29

tactical control (TACON), 29n25

Talbert, LtCol Aubrey W., 112, 126,

144

Taylor, Elizabeth, 259, 480

Tet (Offensive), 503–4

“The Middle-Aged Lions,” 93, 118,

125

Thomas, Maj Bernard H., 58, 85,

128–29, 156, 194

Index

———

519

Throgmorton, Maj James R., 456

Time magazine, 50, 81, 297, 324, 453

Topley, LtCol Frank D., 313, 357n26

To Save a Soldier, 177–78, 185

Twelve O’clock High, 33

United Nations (UN), 80, 318n26,

344n18

United Nations (UN) Security Coun-

cil, 318, 333, 341, 344

United Service Organizations (USO),

96, 120n37, 321

U.S. Air Force, 5, 11, 19, 42, 59,

76n44, 139, 147–48, 165n47,

185, 230, 280, 339, 372, 385

U.S. Army units, 17, 66, 135, 262–63,

269, 274, 276, 283–84, 288, 297,

304, 306, 320, 391, 413, 450,

478n3

101st Airborne Division, 450,

460

U.S. Marine Corps bases

Beaufort, SC, 22, 234, 242, 363,

399, 431, 435, 448, 472–73,

477, 481, 493

Beeville, TX, 20, 22, 46, 82, 126,

154, 322, 335, 370, 380, 411,

479, 500, 504

Camp Lejeune, NC, 325, 473

Cherry Point, NC, 46, 156, 234,

242, 293, 363, 372, 397,

399, 421, 426, 431, 435, 448,

473, 478, 493

El Toro, CA, 22, 46

Jacksonville, NC, 300

Quantico, VA, 28, 66, 104, 126,

179, 209, 219, 316, 350, 382,

387, 397, 460, 471

U.S. Marine Corps units

I Corps, 6, 62, 89, 104, 134, 165,

216, 419

3d Marine Division, 323

Air Warning Squadron (AWS),

Fleet Marine Force, Pacific

(FMFPAC), 5, 202, 482

Headquarters & Headquarters

Squadron (H&HS), 157

Headquarters & Maintenance

Squadron 13 (H&MS-13), 7

Marine Air Base Squadron 13

(MABS-13), 6, 13n2, 49,

223n9, 253n8, 413

Marine Amphibious Force (MAF)

III MAF, 142, 216, 379

Marine Aircraft Group (MAG)

MAG-12, 23, 26, 52, 85, 142,

219, 249, 277, 313, 408,

411–12, 460, 465, 502

MAG-13, 22, 37, 98, 145,

215, 266, 413

MAG-16, 6

MAG-32, 473

MAG-36, 434

Marine Aircraft Wing (MAW)

1st MAW, 19, 252, 313n20

2d MAW, 234, 363, 399,

435, 451

Marine Attack Squadron (VMA)

VMA-211, 432

VMA-311, 5

VMA-225, 5, 358

Marine Fighter Attack Squadron

(VMFA)

VMFA-115, 81, 104, 156,

393, 465

VMFA-225, 358

VMFA-312, 152, 278, 293,

438, 460

VMFA-314, 23, 25, 30, 65,

129, 234, 263, 265–66,

357, 416, 418

VMFA-323, 104, 110, 112, 123,

126, 156, 232, 234, 275,

278, 303, 438, 448, 465

Marine Fighter Squadron (VMF)

VMF-312, 6

Index

———

520

U.S. Marine Corps units (continued)

VMF(All-Weather)-232, 372

Training Squadron 25 (VT-25),

25–26

U.S. Navy

Seabees, 5, 29, 114, 271

ships

USS Forrestal (CVA 59), 399

USS Liberty (AGTR 5),

338n6

USS Okinawa (LPH 3), 372

USS Oriskany (CVA 34), 41,

102

USS Repose (AH 16), 278

USS Sanctuary (AH 17), 278,

292, 357, 373, 478

USS Tripoli (LPH 10), 372

Vanek, LtCol Ken D., 142, 455

Viet Cong, 4, 7, 22, 27n21, 30, 37,

41–42, 45, 47, 58, 60, 79–82,

109, 119, 144, 155, 164–65, 179,

232–33, 242, 261, 269, 271, 283,

288, 307, 316–20, 324, 331, 342,

357, 386, 392, 398, 411, 415, 419,

423, 425, 434, 439, 454, 460,

465, 503

Viet Minh, 4, 311n18

Vietnam, locations

A Shau Valley, 392, 404, 411,

413, 417, 434, 447, 450, 460,

471, 477

Da Nang, 5, 15, 19–22, 28, 33,

37–38, 46 b50, 53, 56–57,

60, 64, 80, 89, 104, 109,

120, 123, 129, 134–35, 142,

144, 147–48, 155, 157, 164,

171, 195, 205, 209, 215, 228,

230, 232, 238, 241, 248, 250,

252, 261, 263, 275, 278, 280,

301, 305, 315, 319–20, 323,

325, 328, 332, 336, 339,

372, 374, 385–86, 388, 396,

400, 417, 423, 431, 439, 441,

465, 471, 482, 488, 491, 493,

497, 500, 502

Dien Bien Phu, 4

Dong Ha, 256, 280, 292, 307,

323, 471

Cam Ranh Bay, 36, 133, 142

Con Thien, 372, 477, 491

Hue, 37, 104, 112, 135, 144, 153,

160, 225, 434

Khe Sanh, 224–25, 292, 411

Phu Bai, 37, 104, 112, 119, 144,

148, 153, 168, 225, 413, 434,

471

Quang Ngai, 51, 63, 171, 175,

205, 224, 245, 274, 331, 398,

454, 460

Rockpile, 477n2

Saigon, 46, 50, 62, 73, 79, 245,

250

Tam Ky, 443, 446, 460

Vinson, GySgt W. S., 293–94

Waiting Wives Club, 24, 28, 96, 98,

101, 273, 414, 417

Walt, MajGen Lewis W., 89, 215–16,

379

Walters, LtCol Roger D., 423, 491,

495

Washington Post, 119

weather

hurricanes, 453, 456–62, 479

monsoons, 24n17, 27, 89, 115,

156, 447, 455, 482, 485

tropical storms, 75n42, 133,

479n4

typhoons, 75, 80, 83, 89, 107,

133n5, 485

Westmoreland, Gen William C.,

USA, 135, 250, 503

Whipple, Maj Lawrence A., 22, 119,

219

Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, 259,

470

Wilson, CWO Harold E., 444

Index

———

521

Wilford, SSgt Percy L., 240

Williams, Maj Clifton C., 171

Williams, LtCol Lynn F., 482, 497

World Book Atlas, 63, 95, 99, 403, 411

World Book Encyclopedia, 63, 73, 95,

403

World War II, 93, 139, 181, 473,

504–5

Wuertz, Maj Joseph B., 22, 46, 88,

112, 134, 197, 278, 303, 313, 438

Zinowski, Capt Walter T., 337, 385

———

523

ABOUT THE EDITOR

LtCol John M. Curatola, PhD, serves as the Samuel Zemurray Stone se-

nior historian at the National World War II Museum in New Orleans,

Louisiana. A Marine Corps officer of 22 years, he is a veteran of Opera-

tion Provide Hope in Somalia, Operation Iraqi Freedom, and the 2005

Indian Ocean tsunami relief effort. He holds masters’ degrees in both

American and military history. With a PhD from the University of Kan-

sas, Curatola’s research focuses on World War II, airpower, and the early

Cold War period. Previously, he taught history at the U.S. Army’s Com-

mand and General Staff College at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas. His first

two books—Bigger Bombs for a Brighter Tomorrow: The Strategic Air Command

and American War Plans at the Dawn of the Atomic Age, 1945–1950 (2016)

and Autumn of Our Discontent: Fall 1949 and the Crises in American National

Security (2022)—assess U.S. national security and nuclear capabilities in

the immediate postwar era. His most recent work—Armies Afloat forthcom-

ing with University Press of Kansas—addresses the development of U.S.

amphibious capability in the Mediterranean and European theaters of

operation during World War II. Additionally, Curatola’s works are avail-

able in compendium books, popular magazines, academic journals, and

presentations available for viewing on CSPAN and YouTube.