HN Russell L. Wright III Born on July 9, 1947 From RICHMOND, VIRGINIA Casualty was on Sept. 3, 1968 in QUANG NAM, SOUTH VIETNAM Panel 45W - - Line 34 "Doc" Russell Wright served with the 3rd Battalion, 5th Marines, Mike Company. He was Killed In Action during Operation MAMELUKE THRUST. His name stands proudly on the Mike 3/5 Wall of Honor alongside the Marines he gave his life to save. We will never forget. Operation MAMELUKE THRUST He laid down his life for his friends ~David Moore, Platoon Commander~ Russell (Doc) Wright was the senior Navy medical corpsman in 3rd platoon, M Co., 3/5 when he was killed in action. On that day, M Co. was on a search and destroy mission as part of a battalion sized sweep on Gonoi Island in southern I Corps. The company was reenforced with two M-6o tanks. AS the company approached a small village located in a grove of trees moving through open grass land, firing broke out, and the third platoon Sergeant, S/Sgt Belancin was killed. The firing continued for some time and was part of a four corner "minuet" ambush. It suddenly broke off, and we were able to medevac S/Sgt Belancin's body. Doc Wright had pronounced him dead and tagged him. The company commander then told third and second platoons to get on line and assault the village which had been the source of much of the incoming fire. There was an embankment and a terrace on the outside of the treeline which afforded some cover as the platoons approached. According to our standard operating procedure, Doc Wright and the second corpsman, traveled with the platoon commander his runner, and and his radio man in the command post group. The platoon commander had discussed with Doc Wright the need of having covering fire and a scheme of maneuver when approaching casualties for the protection of the corpsmen. There were two squads on line with the CP group in the middle. when the runner was wounded with a graze accross the buttocks, Doc Wright pronounced the wound minor and the runner continued in action. At that moment, as the left flank sqauad crested the embankment employing assault fire, a Marine was seen to be struck by enemy fire and was hurled back over the embankment with a shattered arm. The platoon commander told Doc Wright to go to the wounded man and he was able to go using the embankment for cover. Minutes later, the left flank squad reported two men down and wounded in front of a bunker. As the incoming fire was brisk, the platoon commander called for the tanks to help him get to the wounded. While giving instructions the tank commmaander on top of the tank, a bullet passed between the two Marines and shattered against the open tank hatch spraying the bare back of the tanker with small shrapnel. The tankers ran their tanks in between the enemy and the wounded and the platoon commander and his radioman were the first to reach them. They were dead. Doc Wright had seen another Marine go down and had gone to his side. He was killed while kneeling and administering aid to the dying Marine. My recollection is that he was recommended for the Bronze Star and this was upgraded to the Silver Star. His platoon commander, now a seminary student paid tribute to Doc Wright Memorial Day weekend Sunday 2001 at the Plymouth NH Methodist Church. "Jesus said, no man has greater love than this than that he lay down his life for his friends." Freedom isn't free. The heroic service of men like Doc Wright preserves America. "Doc" Wright, a true hero ~Mike McFerrin, 3rd plt. M Co. 3/5~ Late in the afternoon on September 2, 1968, I stood on the helipad at An Hoa waiting for the helicopter that was to re-supply the battalion. It would take me and 20 other new guys to the bush. We  would now face all of the other ways the enemy had to kill us. The mortar attacks at An Hoa had given us some preparation for what was to come. All of us were scared, but then we had been scared every night since arriving. The only difference was now we could remain scared 24 hours per day. About 4 that afternoon the helicopters arrived. We were being choppered to Go Noi Island. It was not really an island, but was a large tract of land that lay between two rivers that ran all the way to the ocean some 20 to 30 miles away. It was incredibly hot. Everybody was soaked with sweat. Added to this discomfort was the fact that all 21 of us were carrying gear that we did not need in packs that were arranged and sitting in a way that was not suitable. These lessons would be taught to us when we arrived at our home squads. And the fear of the Unknown. Would the LZ be hot? Would the helicopter be shot down? Go Noi Island was flat as a pancake with knee high to over head high elephant grass every where except for a few islands of trees and shrubs that dotted the landscape of the interior and followed the river banks. The helicopter began to spiral down to what looked like the exact middle of a sea of grass. There were dots of olive drab running around in the grass, jumping on things that were starting to move from the helicopter's rotorwash. Nobody shot at us.  Upon debarking, it seemed like mass confusion on the ground. We could not tell who was who since nobody was wearing any rank insignia. People seemed to be scattered everywhere without any order. We soon learned that this was the battalion command post (CP) group. We were told that the CP was moving out immediately to join up with the companies somewhere. There were booby traps and gooks everywhere so be careful. This scared the crap out of us. And then to add to that they took the seven of us that were going to Mike Company and told us we would be walking flank for the column. They pointed out to where the grass was over head high and told us to go out there and stay 30 to 50 meters out and parallel with the column and, again, to watch out for booby traps. Oh, my God! We were now in the bush. The real bush. As we moved into the tall grass, we left the air behind. It was like an oven. Sweat was pouring off of us and getting into our eyes. We were taking baby steps as we tried to see through the stinging sweat and grass for a sign of anything that could be indicative of a booby trap. Then there was somebody that kept yelling to keep the flank moving with the column which I couldn't see. After about an hour of this we broke through the grass to a small wooded area and there was Mike Company. The seven of us on the flank were dropped off there and the rest continued on to nearby wooded areas that contained the other two companies.  At the company CP area, the captain introduced himself and the company gunnery sergeant. Since third platoon had taken the most casualties in the last few days, three of us were sent there. Second platoon got two. First platoon got one, and one was assigned to be the new company radioman.  When we arrived at the third platoon CP area, we had to wait for the squad leaders of the squads that we had been assigned to. They would come to get us after they had set their squads into a perimeter. The corpsman, Doc Wright, was the only one who talked to us, trying to calm us as the stress of the unknown dangers was obvious in our faces. He told us that the company had been moving across Go Noi on search and destroy and that they had made contact with the enemy every day. We should listen to our squad leaders and try to learn as quickly as possible if we were to stay alive. He was very comforting in his calmness. We felt like he cared. Soon the squad leaders arrived and took us to an area on the edge of the wooded ground. Here third platoon was responsible for a section of a perimeter that was being established by digging foxholes about 20 meters apart in an arc that connected with the foxholes of the 2 other platoons forming a rough circle.  We were given our first instructions on how to stand watch in the bush. How to watch the front, how to hold our rifles and when to use them, how to keep our grenades and when to use them, etc. Nothing happened that night. But "nothing" doesn't happen for very long in the bush. One of the squads from one of the other platoons had gone on a short patrol that next morning shortly after dawn. They had found and chased some 10 or 12 gooks into a treeline not too far away. The company commander had not allowed them to continue the pursuit. As the squad returned to the company, we were given orders to saddle up. The whole company would enter the treeline to go after the enemy soldiers. Before 7:30 AM, we moved out in column. The column was maneuvered along the edge of a bushline some 300 meters away and parallel to the target treeline. We made a left face and were now facing the target in a row. The target was an "island" of trees in the middle of a huge area of grass ranging from six inches to knee high. To the right and left of the island were long tree lines about 200 meters away from each side. As we looked at the target it seemed to be about 100 meters wide and perhaps the same deep. It also appeared to contain some hootches somewhere in its interior. We couldn't actually see any but there seemed to be an order about the trees, bushlines, and paths that we could see that indicated man had been there for a while. The Captain decided that we would approach the island in a "wedge" formation and enter the treeline at a path that was almost at the midpoint of the island. My platoon got picked for the front of the wedge. My squad was picked for the front of the platoon. And, my fireteam was picked for the very point. My fireteam leader decided to take the very point himself and I was a few steps back and to the left of him. We were to wait until we were about 100 meters from the target and begin "reconning" by fire as we approached. It all sounded just like the training formations at Camp Pendleton. Easy stuff. We moved into the open area and started towards the target. At about 150 meters, our simple maneuver started falling apart. Out of the treeline to the left came one of the other companies in 3/5. We kept moving but it didn't take a mental giant to see that their column and our wedge would collide at a point about 75 meters out from our target. We were finally halted while the officers decided what to do.  The decision was to have Mike Company stop its wedge formation assault on the treeline and allow the other company to cross in column between it and the target.  The NVA waited for the column to get spread out directly in front of them with the wedge formation directly on the other side of that column then opened up with Marines two deep in front of them. Due to the heat the Marines of Mike Company had sat down to wait for the other company to move across. I sat on my helmet wiping the sweat from my brow. All of a sudden, the air burst into whizzes and whines of bullets. The cracks of dozens of AKs firing at once followed the bullets across the grassland. And behind that the screams of the wounded and dying. I rolled off my helmet instantly and flattened on the ground. There was no cover anywhere. And none of us in Mike Company could return fire anyway since the other company was in front of us. Bullets were striking everywhere around me. I tried to crawl underneath my helmet. My terror was increasing as the realization that there was nowhere to go came over me.  Then I heard a yell from behind me to my left. They didn't know my name yet so they called me "New Guy." Three Marines had found a small rise that offered some cover and on the other side of them one Marine had found a small shell hole that had room for another person. I raised my head just enough to see them as they told me to come over there. It was probably no more than ten to fifteen meters but the bullets were thick enough to walk on so it looked like a click or more to me. I said no to the requests that I come to their cover. No way.  Then as I turned my head back to the front and began lowering it back into the earth I saw an automatic burst of fire parting grass and striking dirt about fifteen meters in front of me and tracking directly to me. I paused only a second and rolled my left shoulder, leg and head to the right. Right where my head had been and right in front of where my face now was a bullet struck. Dirt was kicked into my right eye from the impact. One more round hit about where my kidney would have been. The burst ended with that round. I yelled over and asked if they still had room for me. They did but again I found it difficult to move. This seemed more impossible than dodging raindrops in the monsoon. I was trying to figure my odds of getting hit staying there versus moving to cover. There's one for Einstein to figure. As they coaxed me to come and I vacillated, a blood curdling scream and cries for help came from behind me to my right. I could not see who got hit but the sound was very close. In an instant I low crawled, no, I slithered, dragging my face in the dirt to the cover of the shell hole. The cries for help over to my right began to slow down. Then there was nothing.  I asked the Marines around me who was hit and if anybody had got to him. They said that the fire was so thick that there probably was no way anybody could get to whoever it was but if there was a way to get to him that our corpsman would do it. Apparently Doc Wright had earned a great deal of trust and respect from these men in previous battles. To the front, the fast and furious cracking of AK fire began to slow. The screaming and yelling of the Marines seemed to get louder. I looked up and could only see two Marines out there and they were running back toward the treeline from where they had come. Then I could see some more Marines back in the treeline who had apparently made it to safety. But there were still people yelling for help down there. I quickly raised up a little higher for a quick glance. I could see five or six bodies laying in the grass in front of the island. The AK fire slowed to a burst every ten or twelve seconds. After about a minute of this, it seemed to stop completely. I was thinking the gooks must be dead or ran off. The screams for help were really loud now. My fireteam leader jumped up, turned and looked at us and said to drop our gear and follow him. My first order to follow in combat. I dropped my pack and jumped up to follow my fireteam leader. The other Marine in the shell hole with me yelled at me to not go and said something about me being sorry for doing that. It wasn't registering because I was so scared and new that I was focused on what I had to do. The fireteam leader said to follow him and I did. He began running out to the wounded Marines in front of the island. We had gotten about halfway there when my fireteam leader yells at me to zigzag. I said, "What? They're all dead aren't they?" He yelled, "NO!!!" I glanced behind me and saw that not a single other Marine had come with us. UH OH!!!! This guy is a nut or a hero and I am the only one stupid enough to follow him out here. By then, we were almost three quarters of the way there and I wanted to stop my forward motion and run back. As I slowed though, I got scared that I was starting to offer myself as an easier target and simultaneously I see four other Marines from the other company come running out of their treeline towards the wounded. Then there was a short burst of AK fire. Both my fireteam leader and I dove to the ground right where all the wounded Marines were. My fireteam leader crawled up to a Marine who had been shot in the butt and/or thigh and yelled at me to come and help. The Marine was ashen faced and trembling severely. It was hard to tell if it was from the wound or the experience of being abandoned to die for the last five minutes or both. My fireteam leader pulled the guy's poncho off his pack and told me to spread it out next to him while he took the guy's battle dressing from his helmet and applied to the wounded area. We then rolled the guy onto the poncho and began to drag him towards the treeline. By this time other Marines from his company began to come out to help and two of them took over the front part of the poncho while my fireteam leader and I picked up the back end and we carried him all the way to safety. The wounded Marine was thanking us and promising us a bottle of booze each for saving him. My fireteam leader and I went partially back out once more to help finish carrying one more. Then we went along the treeline until we were parallel to where our company was and dashed across the open to them. This time I dove behind the little rise with the three Marines behind it. I was amazed that we had pulled it off. I was sure that my fireteam leader at least would get a medal for this. I don't think anybody would've gone out there if he hadn't gone first. I had just witnessed the first person I had ever seen who deliberately committed an act of heroism. We heard the order being yelled to pull back. All the way back past the bush line where we had started and into the trees. My fireteam leader and I were the first to respond since we had already been running all over the place. I only went a few steps back when I saw the dead Marine. It was my platoon sergeant. I yelled to my fireteam leader who recruited a couple of others to help pull his body back with us.  I heard that Doc Wright had searched the grass during the hailstorm of bullets and finally found the platoon sergeant but had been too late to save him. Medevacs were called in to take out the wounded. Then we were told that we would pick up where we left off. We would assault the treeline with our wedge formation. No guessing this time. They were definitely in there.  After the Medevacs left we reassembled into the wedge and were told to walk fast towards the treeline and to begin recon by fire immediately. I tried to put a wall of lead in front of me more in hopes of stopping any bullets headed at me than killing any enemy soldiers. There was no return fire yet. At about the halfway point, I had to change magazines. I think two bullets fired out of the new magazine and it jammed. Whoops! Here I am walking at almost full speed towards the enemy and I don't have a weapon. I slowed then came to a full stop as I tried to unjam my weapon. This messed up the wedge so my squad leader ran up and gave me his M-16 while he cleared mine. I caught up to my place and began firing and this one jammed too. Still no return fire yet though. My squad leader ran up again with my now cleared M-16 and grabbed his to clear it. We were now down to the last 100 meters and I think everybody started slowing down a bit expecting the worst. About 25 meters out from the edge of the island was a bamboo thicket with about a 3 meter radius and well over head high. This was in front of me so I began to sort of use it for cover as we approached. This was the only cover available if the shit hit the fan. As I neared it, I realized that I would have to step to one side or the other to get around it and I would no longer have it available for cover after I passed it. I walked right up to within two arms length of it not having made my mind up yet which way to go around it. I sort of hesitated and looked around to my left to make sure the rest of the wedge was with me.  As I swung my eyes, I saw something and quickly looked back at the bamboo thicket in front of me. Resting in between two of the large pieces of bamboo at about four inches above ground level was the end of a barrel. I squinted my eyes to peer through the slit and followed the barrel to the other end. Our eyes met and locked. My rifle was pointed off to the right of the bamboo thicket. His was pointed directly at my chest. I know I gasped. I'm sure I paled. But the locking of our eyes apparently scared him, too, because I saw his eyes get real big and he ducked his head way down into the hole he had dug in the middle of the bamboo thicket. At the same time he opened up with what I now believe was an RPD machine gun. When he ducked, the barrel dropped and two or three bullets went between my legs before he started swinging it to the left to get the other Marines that he could see. All hell broke loose. All the gooks back in the trees and vegetation of the island opened up. They tore up the advancing wedge. As the machine gun barrel swung away from me I fell flat to the earth directly in front of the machine gun. I was trying to swing my M-16 back forward when the barrel swung back towards me. I cringed expecting the top of my head to be split open. It passed right on over me and killed several people on my right. He must think I'm dead. He did duck when he fired. None of the others had any idea that there was an enemy soldier in that bamboo thicket. He caught them all in the full upright position with long bursts. As I listened to what was happening around me, I knew we were getting our ass kicked. I rolled my eyes up to try and see in front of me. The grass was some eight to ten inches high and I could not see the slit in the bamboo where the gun was. And my rifle was still not pointed in that direction. I now know he probably couldn't see me either because of the grass but it did not occur to me at that moment. My predicament began to sink in and terror began to grip me. The machine gun went silent after killing those on my right but in the midst of all the other enemy weapons firing from the treeline I am not sure that anybody could tell the difference or even yet had any idea that he was there. Just then I heard a thumping of boots striking the ground behind me and to my right. The sound came towards me. I turned my face to the right out of fear to see whatever it was coming. I saw Doc Wright as he came running up to the dead Marine on my right. He was saying something like "Are you hit?" He had obviously seen all of us laying there in the grass as he approached and was going to quickly assess each.  He had been over 100 meters back behind us with the rest of the platoon CP group. I was totally stunned to see this man running through the hail of bullets to get to us. But then I realized that he did not know the enemy machine gunner was in the bamboo thicket. Overcoming my own fear momentarily, I tried to yell but could only squeak, "Doc, he's dead!." I wanted to follow this up with telling him to hit the deck because of the machine gun in front of me which was just a few meters to his left front. I did not get the chance. Doc dropped to his knees as I spoke and grabbed the dead Marine's shoulders and was turning him over to check him. Simultaneously, he turned his head and upper body towards me to see if I was hit. The NVA machine gunner opened up on him. I jerked and winced as the machine gun roared. I expected him to rake the grass directly in front of him and get me. He may have done so and missed me. I could not tell from my position.  I saw Doc get hit as I winced then could see him no more above the grass. I was afraid to speak again but I listened for any noise from Doc to indicate that he was alive. There was none.  I had just witnessed the second deliberate true act of heroism that I had ever seen and it was less than an hour after seeing the first. This man had ignored all of the incredibly heavy volume of fire to get to us up there to try and save lives. I was in awe of the valor and sacrifice displayed by Doc Wright. I was sure that it was just a matter of seconds before I joined all of those dead men with me there. I began to cry and my head spun as I prepared to die. My first thought was of a Marine officer telling my parents that I had been killed. My second was that I had been killed in my first 24 hours in the bush which certainly didn't speak well of me paying attention in my Marine training and might even be embarrassing to my parents. It certainly was to me. Then my life began playing itself to me as vividly as any 3-D movie I've ever seen. I was crying but not making any sound. Nor was I moving. I would rather live frozen stiff like this than die. Ants began to crawl on my head and face. Whenever they got close to my mouth I would try to bite them. I could see my home as I seemed to be floating at about mid-tree level around it. I saw my family and friends. And it just kept going.  The Marines began to pull back. They called out the names of everybody who wasn't moving back with them to see if there were any wounded who needed help. I listened again for any noise whatsoever from Doc as he was the only one that I wasn't completely sure was alive or dead. I heard nothing and the sadness of the loss of such a hero overwhelmed me even in my position. They were calling six names out that didn't answer even after repeated efforts. The five dead on either side of me and mine. I wasn't about to answer this roll call. Then they left. And I was alone with the dead Marines and live gooks.  They pulled all the way back past where they had been before. Almost 400 meters and totally out of sight. As far as I knew they had gone to An Hoa. Or Danang. Or even back to the World. It didn't matter. Even if they knew I was alive, I was right in front of the machine gun that they still might not know is there. Even if they did, what could they do? I would be killed in the crossfire. I cried for my death at such a young age. What a harsh world. I began to pray. And I mean for real. I began to see the things I was allowed to see. Life was a natural event. Death was also. I began to feel as if I had been here before, dying on a battlefield. All of a sudden with a shock that convulsed my body, I understood. My tears stopped. My sorrow and self-pity evaporated in an instant. Whether it was here or in a hospital at 100 years old, I would experience Death. And it was not bad. I fully accepted my own mortality. The only measurement that would apply was how I had lived. I had been in front of that machine gun for over 45 minutes crying. I thanked God for letting me live long enough to arrive at this point. I still believed that there was no feasible way for me to get out of this situation. I only knew that I would not lay there and die crying for myself. With Doc Wright's selfless act of heroism still reverberating through my head, I decided that I could help my fellow Marines out if I could take this machine gun out. Then they at least stood a chance of recovering our bodies without another death. I remembered that I had been issued a little grenade pouch that holds three grenades and it was on my web belt on my right side. If I could get a grenade out and the pin pulled before he killed me then maybe the grenade blast would be enough to penetrate the bamboo and kill him too. I very slowly began moving my right arm back alongside my body. It must've taken two or three minutes. Finally I could feel the pouch and I unsnapped one of the pockets and the grenade rolled out next to me. I felt for it, grabbed it, and spent another two minutes moving it up to the top of my head. Now I needed my other hand to pull the pin. Finally the deed was done. The grenade was ready and I wasn't dead yet. I decided it stood a better chance of getting him if it was right next to the bamboo. With my arms extended over my head, my hand was only an arm's length from the bamboo. I simply opened my hand and gave the grenade a little nudge. I fully expected it to kill both of us. I didn't even cringe. I was ready to die. The blast was incredible. It took my helmet off and felt like it split the skin on my forehead open. I couldn't hear but hadn't seemed to die right off in the initial blast. I couldn't feel any pain except the skin of my forehead. I wondered if the gook was dead yet. I was so stunned from the concussion I couldn't be sure how bad I was wounded. Mike Company was calling in choppers for the wounded and dead that they had gotten out and were also attempting to get two "stacks" of air (4 Phantom jets) to do the island in. I was so new that I did not know that this was pretty standard in these type of situations. I had no idea that they were going to drop napalm and high explosives on the place then strafe anything that was left. I am really glad that I did not know. Fortunately for me, there was a great deal of action somewhere else in I Corps that day and they were unable to get the standard rapid response.  But people in Mike Company heard my grenade go off and knew that somebody was still alive up there. A squad came back and attempted to move up. The machine gunner in the bamboo thicket opened up on them. I almost crapped in my pants since he was firing directly over my head. Whoa! Not only did I not kill myself with the grenade, I didn't even incapacitate the machine gunner. The thought crossed my mind that I was not very good at this. But I also decided that maybe I should try to get this guy without killing myself also.  Again I reached back for a grenade from my pouch. I moved a little bit more confidently this time. I realized the grass must be hiding most of my movements. But when I began to move, a sniper up in a tree back on the island saw me and began firing. The bullets were single shot and began hitting three to six meters from me. This did not slow me down whatsoever by this point. Doc Wright's example had inspired me to commit to fulfilling this task for my fellow Marines and I was right in front of a gun that could split my skull open. A few lone bullets were not going to scare me off now. The sniper fired five rounds at me and I realized that the "plunging" fire angle that he had must be difficult and/or this NVA needed glasses. This time when I got the pin pulled I stretched my right arm out as far as I could and threw the grenade around the side of the bamboo thicket so that it provided some cover for me. Right after the explosion, the Mike Company people again tried to move up and again he opened up on them. But now they knew that I was somewhere in front of the thicket and that I was targeting the thicket as the source of enemy fire. I heard a yell in the distance from the Marines who were trying to get back up to the area, "Hey! Keep your head down!" I wondered what idiot thought he had to holler that to me from a couple of hundred meters away. All of a sudden there was a whoosh and a short sound of sucking air and then a horrific explosion as a LAAW rocket fired from that distance made a direct hit on the thicket. The blast and the shrapnel all moved forward into the thicket but the pure concussion that reached back for me was incredibly strong. My entire body, in the prone position was lifted above the top of the grass and dropped back to the earth banging my chin very smartly. It was a hell of shot somebody had made. Since the Marines had actually witnessed my body come up above the grass they now knew that I was not just somewhere in front of the thicket, but was literally right in front of it. I heard the same voice yell, "Hey! Don't worry! We won't fire another one." To show them that he was still there, the enemy gunner immediately fired a short burst towards the Marines. Christ!!! I had no idea how he was not being affected. Boot as I was, I was not aware of all the weird holes and side holes they dug inside of large rooted plants and trees that gave them such good protection. But the other Marines knew. Somewhere with one of the other companies on Go Noi were a tank and an amtrac. This was the one and only time that I ever saw either with the bush companies in the bush. The tank was sent up to get me. I did not know there were tanks out with us. Until I began to hear and feel the rumble. The tank approached the island straight ahead about one hundred meters to my right. I heard the yelling of the Marines to tell me that they were sending a tank to get me out. I suddenly returned to the normal world. I was no longer alone waiting to die. I was elated momentarily. Then slowly the elation began to die down as I tried to figure out how this tank was going to "get me out." I couldn't see any reasonable way. The elation dissipated but not the new found hope. When the tank got to the same distance from the island that I was, it made a 90 degree left and came straight at me as if to drive between me and the bamboo thicket. Once it had made this turn, one of the crewman reached up and grabbed the 50 caliber machine gun mounted on top of the tank and began firing it as he swung it in a wide arc spraying the island from the top of the trees to the bushes on the ground. And the tank continued to come at me. I realized that the driver probably couldn't even see me laying in the grass and the guy up on the 50 wasn't looking at anything but the island. I was watching 52 tons of steel come at me and it wasn't slowing down or turning.  From some two to three hundred meters back, I could hear Marines yelling, "Run! Run!" It was becoming clear that my options were limited. I watched as the tank rolled up on me. I was waiting for the last second to get as much tank cover as possible from the snipers back in the trees and hopefully the closer it got the more likely the gook in the thicket would have his head down. Just then the Marine up on the tank firing the 50 cal turned and looked at me and yelled at me to run behind the tank. In the blink of an eye, I did just that. The tank stopped right in front of the bamboo thicket as I got behind it. From behind the tank, I yelled up to the Marine telling him that the gook was in the bamboo. He yelled back at me to run straight back to the company keeping the tank between me and the island. He turned the 50 cal almost straight down and fired into the thicket. I began to run. As I moved away from the tank I knew that I was presenting a target to the snipers in the trees and so did my feet because they moved like they never had before. The last grenade in my pouch flew out somewhere in the grass as well as several other unidentified items in my pockets. It didn't matter what it was. I was not slowing or stopping for anything.  As I made my mad dash, I could see the heads of a couple of Marines as they yelled for me to come to where they were at. When I got close enough, I dove for them. As I slithered around in the dirt to bring my head up with the other Marines, I realized I was in the same shell hole that I had sought cover in early in the morning. But now it seemed like it was years ago. One of the Marines looked at me and asked if I was okay. I said that I was but asked, "Is it like this in Vietnam every day?" He responded with, "Nah. It only gets this bad two or three times a week." I lay there thinking of what had happened to me in front of that machine gun. I had been irrevocably changed. I had accepted my own mortality and was no longer afraid of it. And it was a good thing because it did not look like surviving 13 months of this at two to three times a week was a good bet. The tank withdrew some 20 meters, swiveled its cannon around and blew the entire thicket away. Then it retreated to the CP area some 100 meters behind us in some trees.  I thought of Doc Wright and his incredible selfless act to save us. And I realized that he had, in fact, saved me. His example had prompted me, a scared boot, to action which in the end was responsible for saving my life. I thanked him and said a prayer for him. Shortly thereafter, the air support arrived. Four Phantom jets. First they dropped napalm on the island. This was my first view of an air strike. I was astounded. The flames rolled through and totally engulfed the island. Nothing could live through that and yet they did it again. And again. Four times they hit the island with napalm. Then four times they hit it with HE (high explosive) bombs that shook the earth and toppled the trees. Then, to my amazement, they began making passes to strafe the island. I asked one of the Marines what they were shooting at since I didn't think anything could have even survived the napalm, much less the HE. He said, "Ol’ Mista Charles ain’t dead. He's just sitting in one of his tunnels waiting for the jets to leave." While the strafing runs were still going on, the Captain yelled to my Platoon Commander to get the platoon ready to go get the bodies. He yelled to another platoon to set up a base of fire to cover us. As the last strafing run was made, we were told to move out running zig zag and get the dead Marines. I was still of the mind that there were probably no live gooks though. The other platoon laid down a very heavy volume of fire as we moved up. They kept shifting the fire as we moved into its range. We did not receive any fire from the island. I purposely steered to where Doc Wright was. There had been no bomb or napalm damage done to any of those that had been up there with me. It took four of us to carry Doc back some 300 meters to the LZ. He had a large pack on and one of the squad leaders said to carry him back with it on because it contained medical supplies that we might need. I could not take my eyes off Doc Wright. He was such a hero as well as a personal angel to me. I studied his face. I then began to think of him just as a person. His family. I had a sick feeling in my stomach. We had all lost so much in this person. The choppers finally came and took the dead and wounded. It was 1530 hours. We had been at it for about 8 hours now. I had been extremely exposed to death twice so far. I had undergone a psychic and emotional upheaval of the greatest magnitude in front of the machine gun. I hadn't eaten or drank anything since about 6 that morning. And it was over 100 degrees. I was totally wasted. My stomach was in such knots that I couldn't put any food in it. But I began to drink water ferociously. The Platoon Commander came over to me and warned me to stop drinking like that. He also seemed aware of what I had been through because he asked me if I thought I was going to make it through the rest of the day. I assured him that I was capable of continuing. But when I said that, neither one of us knew what the end of the day was going to be. If I had known, I might have changed my response. We assaulted the enemy positions again that day. The assault stalled at the edge of the treeline where we spent the night in the grass. An assault the next morning was successful. You Are Missed, My Friend My name is Gerald Wells, former Marine 1960-1969. I was discharged 26 March 1969 as E-6 Staff Sgt. I first met Russell when he was a civilian in 1966. He was a hip young man dating a 16-year-old girl who was to become my sister-in-law the last day of 1967. I had just return from WestPac as an 0846 artillery forward observer attached to 1-1, 1-3, and 1-9. My unit was A-1-12.  Over the course of the next 15 months or so, I got to know Russell and his mother and father. He often talked about joining the Corps, and I tried to talk him out of it. I was sure he would end up in Nam as a 0311. At some point in time he broke up with Michele, my soon to be sister-in-law, and I did not see him until Christmas Eve night 1967. I turned into a parking lot of a Catholic church driving my 1965 Triumph Spitfire (red), and there was Russell. He recognized my car, and I was so glad he did for it would be the last time I ever saw him.  I was with my girlfriend who I would elope with and marry 6 days later. We were delighted to see Russell. He told me he had taken my advice and not joined the Corps, but had joined the Navy and they were making him a Corpsman. He was in training at Quantico, Va. In civilian life he had trained to be a mortician. He was a darn ditty bopper who played a mean sax, and I always found it hard to believe this guy was learning to be a mortician.  It was a cold evening, and we chatted a few minutes, and he went into Christmas Mass, and we drove off somewhere. Less than 10 days later, I was married and on a Med. cruise attached to 3/8. It seems to me that sometime in March my wife Jackie wrote me with the dreadful news that Russell had been killed in Vietnam. I had lost so many of my own friends there that I had served with, and now Russell.  I know later he was awarded the Bronze Star. His death has always haunted me. He didn't have to go, but like I had done and thousands before and after he went. Any information about Russell would be greatly appreciated by my wife and I. Thanks and good luck.  Semper Fi, Jerry Wells JerHoos@aol.com Also Killed In Action on 3 Sept. 1968 Cpl. Ricky Jerome Almanza (Silver Star) M/3/5 Born on Oct. 16, 1947 From MOLINE, ILLINOIS Casualty was on Sept. 3, 1968 in QUANG NAM, SOUTH VIETNAM HOSTILE, GROUND CASUALTY GUN, SMALL ARMS FIRE Panel 45W - - Line 30 SSgt. George John Belancin M/3/5 Born on Apr. 18, 1937 From PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA Casualty was on Sept. 3, 1968 in QUANG NAM, SOUTH VIETNAM HOSTILE, GROUND CASUALTY GUN, SMALL ARMS FIRE Panel 45W - - Line 30 LCpl. Larry Dale Coats M/3/5 Born on Aug. 1, 1948 From TWIN FALLS, IDAHO Casualty was on Sept. 3, 1968 in QUANG NAM, SOUTH VIETNAM Non-Hostile, died of illness/injury GROUND CASUALTY MALARIA Panel 45W - - Line 31 Pfc. Antonio Benavidez Hernandez M/3/5 Born on Feb. 21, 1948 From ABILENE, TEXAS Casualty was on Sept. 3, 1968 in QUANG NAM, SOUTH VIETNAM HOSTILE, GROUND CASUALTY OTHER EXPLOSIVE DEVICE Panel 45W - - Line 32 Pfc. Paul Edward Hyland M/3/5 Born on Nov. 15, 1946 From DALLAS, TEXAS Casualty was on Sept. 3, 1968 in QUANG NAM, SOUTH VIETNAM HOSTILE, GROUND CASUALTY OTHER EXPLOSIVE DEVICE Panel 45W - - Line 32 Pfc. Timothy Edward Shanower M/3/5 Born on June 11, 1948 From PERRYSBURG, OHIO Casualty was on Sept. 3, 1968 in QUANG NAM, SOUTH VIETNAM HOSTILE, GROUND CASUALTY GUN, SMALL ARMS FIRE Panel 45W - - Line 34 Memorial page Pfc. Michael Donvian Wilson M/3/5 Born on Mar. 9, 1948 From LIMA, OHIO Casualty was on Sept. 3, 1968 in QUANG NAM, SOUTH VIETNAM HOSTILE, GROUND CASUALTY GUN, SMALL ARMS FIRE Body was recovered Panel 45W - - Line 35 (Background and FMF Corpsman Memorial graphic by Redeye) (2/5 Corpsman graphic by Vic Vilionis, 7th Marines)