How High is the Water Mamma - 2 Feet High & Rising

I got this story from my sister Hazel while visiting with her a while back.

Our house in Kentucky at time of this story was next to the creek that we sometimes had to drive up to get to the house.
From what I understand,
it been raining for quite a while and as everyone watched the creek it was beginning to more and more look like something bigger than just a creek. It was moving very fast and starting to show white foam in places. Dad noticed that there were now things floating in the water as it rushed by. While it was exciting for the children, Mom & Dad began to get a worried look as they watched the water. Dad looked and told everyone to be quiet as he listened, his face became a little white, and we have to get out of the house now, it flooding up there and it's headed this way. Everyone started grabbing things, and Mom headed them toward the front porch. Dad stopped and listen again and shouted, "No! Not out the front - get out the back window - Now!" Mom and the kids stopped, a little confused, but then ran for the back window. Out they all went and up the hill to our Grandmom's house. About that time the flood waters hit - rushing by the house taking the front porch with it. If Dad had not heard the water coming and acted fast, Mom and the children would have been on the front porch when the waters hit. Dad was doing what Dad's do.....protect his family.

Home Coming - No Parade, No Bands, but.....But I Remember

I remember joining the Army in 1968, straight out of high school with thoughts of going off to "war" and becoming the "hero" I saw on TV & in the movies. Make you laugh? Yeah, me too. After training I found myself in Vietnam as a Fire Artillery Fire Direction Spec-4 , two Purple Hearts later, several months in the hospital, I got off the plane back in the USA with a cane, not the "hero's" welcome shown in the movies, I noticed the looks mostly, the looks continued until I stepped out of the cab in front of 1811 Lombard St........I had not told anyone I was coming home.....I walked up the steps into house.....and into the waiting arms of Mom and Dad......I was home.......no parade......no bands.....but oh what a welcome......all the looks on the trip home faded and were replaced by love, tears, laughs, just plain happiness.

Fast forward October 1983, now a Field Artillery Captain, I found myself
 on a plane full of 82d Airborne Division paratroopers bound for the Island of Grenada, a short rescue mission and freeing of that island nation later I was waiting to load on the plane home, I was told I was not going yet, I had been attached to another unit that was staying a little longer, I watched the rest load and fly away.

Back home, Fort Bragg, N.C.,
Brenda and the girls and other 82d Airborne families were all dressed up and waiting for the planes carrying their "heroes" to land. The flags were flying, the band was playing, there were cheers and shouts of joy, the tears flowing freeing, now that was a "hero's" welcome........Brenda waited......the girls straining to see......looking for their short paratrooper to come off the plane.....the last one came off.....not a short paratrooper......everything was over.... the bands departed.... the flags marched away.......the other families took their "heroes" home,......the Colonel assured her that I was ok and that he would find out where I was.....and that I had not been wounded or injured. A long walk to her car, knowing in her heart that God had assured her I was fine, but still concerned, thoughts flowing though her mind........

My wait was not really that long, because after a few hours, it was decided that the unit I was attached to was heading home that day and we boarded the plane and we headed home. Of course when you are not with the main body of troops to come home, you land to an empty airfield, you could tell that something had taken place, we loaded into the back of a truck and rode quietly back to the headquarters of the unit to which I was attached, I got my rucksack and duffle bag, strapped them on my back, still in my combat uniform, I started walking back to my unit.......missed the parade.......missed the bands........missed the flags........missed the cheers.........

Remember, Brenda walking back to her car? Katie (Kaza) begin pulling and straining to pull away from Brenda.......Brenda trying to get her stop......Katie would not......breaking free and running.....Brenda looked up......readying to chase her.......Brenda started running also when she saw a loaded down short paratrooper running toward them.......her "hero" was home....... I ran into the waiting arms of Brenda & the girls......I was home.......no parade......no bands.....but oh what a welcome........love.....tears......hugs........happiness.

You see I did not need the parades, the bands, the cheers, ......I could not have asked for a better memory than the home comings I received in 1969 and 1983. I have been truly blessed.

Brenda Gets Her Driver License

Unlike a lot of people, Brenda and I did not get our license as soon as we turned 16. As explained in the previous story, I got mine in Vietnam, Brenda did not get her license until she was 26, we were stationed in Fort Sill, Ok. I remember we had a brown 1977 Honda Civic station wagon that I taught her in. It had a manual transmission which meant she had to learn to use a stick shift. She had most of the driving skills down pretty good when it came time for her to take the test. In Lawton, Ok., the test was given, not on a driving course, but on the actual city streets.  Brenda had practiced driving, stopping, signaling, & parking in a pull in space. When she got ready to take the test I said, "Oh! If they ask you to parallel park.....do this." We had never practiced parallel parking. I proceeded to tell her, "You can park with three turns of the wheel, if you do this. Pull up parallel to the front car until you can still see the rear of that car in you rear passenger window, then turn your wheel all the way to the right - back up until your front clears the rear of front car car - turn your wheel all the way left and back up up until you are 6 - 12 inches from the curb and careful not to hit the car behind you - straighten up you wheel and pull forward until you are about equal distance from the car in front and the one in back." and then I drew her a diagram (hand drawn - similar to this one I did in PowerPoint) of how to parallel park. I told her doing this you should be able to parallel park every time.

At one point during the test Brenda stalled the Honda and threw up her hands, "Does that mean I failed?" The person giving the test just laughed and said no, just start it again. and sure enough they asked her to parallel park between two cars. She did what I told her and parked it without a problem. She apparently had paid very close attention when I explained it to her. She passed the test without a problem and is a fairly good driver except for her interactions with "mailboxes", which is a story for another time.

Learning To Drive A Stick Shift the Army Way

So here I am, an E-4 with the 11th Armored Cavalry Regiment at Quan Loi Base Camp, Vietnam, when the First Sergeant calls me to his tent. He tells me he wants me to fly down to Long Binh and pick up a 3/4-ton truck. I tell I do not have a drivers licence. He says no problem, you drive the truck back and I'll give you your licence. I load up in a Huey (helicopter) with Sgt. Bailey and we fly to Long Binh. We get the paperwork and the truck and head back to Quan Loi. Sgt. Bailey was trying to teach me to shift gears, driving all the way back in 1st gear would have been a pain, and I was not picking up as quickly as he would have liked. My steel pot (helmet) probably had some new dents in it from his motivational methods. Then there came a point my motivation peaked and I quickly began to learn to shift gears. The increased motivation came in the form of bullets hitting the truck. We were traveling though an area where the Viet Cong liked to ambush vehicles. We were in a serious ambush. While the Sgt. return fire, I suddenly understood what he was trying to teach me, and became a master stick shifter and had us flying and bouncing down the road at a break neck speed. You might say my "pucker factor" was extremely high. When we finally got back to base camp, the 1st Sgt, after checking the truck, began to chew me out shouting, "I can't believe you brought my new truck back shot all up. You got your drivers licence, now get YOUR truck out of my sight!"

I was sitting on my truck when the above picture of me was taken. Me and that truck had a lot of adventures together, but they are for telling in another story. (The picture of the truck to the left is not of me or that truck - just one like it with someone I don't know)

This story did not end in Vietnam. When I got back to Maryland, and needed to get my civilian drivers licence, I found out that, since I had a military driver licence,  all I had to do was take the Maryland written test. Doesn't it make you feel good to know that I got my Maryland driver licence without ever having to demonstrate that I could actually drive a vehicle.

(By the time I got my Maryland licence, I had learned to drive among other things, an armored personnel carrier (tracked vehicle), a 2 1/2-ton truck, a 5-ton truck and self propeller howitzer, so I guess you really do not have too much to worry about my driving.)

My God watches over me when I wake and when I sleep - ("Safest Place in Vietnam" Part 2)

“CAM RANH BAY, Vietnam- The cluster of buildings that is the 6th Convalescent Center here sits atop a sun-splashed slope on the Cam Ranh Bay peninsula overlooking the South China Sea. At the foot of the slope transparently clear blue waves wash against a sugar white beach that stretches away until it becomes lost in the blue-green haze of the jungled mountains to the north.

It is a place where soldiers come to forget the war, to relax, and to recuperate. Clad in light blue pajamas, they congregate on the beach in small groups. They swim in the warm water, or stroll in the damp sand, or they spread blankets and bask in the heat of the sun in a sky that is almost always cloudless blue. It is a peaceful place. Or, rather, it was.

An hour after midnight, Thursday morning, that peace was abruptly and savagely shattered. A barrage of 107mm rockets streaked upward on the mainland, arced across the bay, and slammed into the air base. At the same time, a small group of Communist sappers cut through the perimeter fence at the north end of the convalescent center and raced through the compound, flinging satchel charges into buildings as they went.” – Pacific Stars and Stripes 11 August 1969 by S. Sgt. Jim White, S&S Staff Correspondent

I remember that night well. I had earned my first Purple Heart from a wound received in an attack on our base camp in Quan Loi on July 20, 1969 (the same day that our astronauts Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin walked on the moon) and was in Cam Ranh Bay Convalescent Center recovering. (Recovering can sometimes have its pluses - like when the USO brings beautiful ladies to visit us). Cam Ranh Bay was considered the safest place in Vietnam (I think that may have been a quote from Nixon).

It was around one o’clock in the morning and I was sound asleep. Suddenly, I was wide awake.  It was almost as if someone had shaken me or called my name.
I raised up in my bunk and looked around. It was quiet and dark, no one moving down the two rows of sleeping patients in the ward. Suddenly at the far end of the ward, the door opened and I saw a Viet Cong (VC) throw something into the ward and on the bunk of a patient. The charge exploded as I rolled out of my bunk onto floor. I could hear machine gun fire outside and began to crawl toward the door at my end of the ward. As I crawled out the door, a foot landed near the side of my head and then on the other side. As I looked I saw a VC running toward the next ward and throwing a charge. The charge went off about ten feet from me and rang my bells (loud sound attacking your ears, for those not familiar with the term) real good. Have hearing loss and continuous ringing in my ears as a result of that explosion. The VC machine gun fire was coming from the center of the compound where we normally formed up for roll call each morning. I continued to crawl around the side of the ward, where I joined other soldiers as we crawled into a culvert pipe. We managed to form up on the other side and ran to the arms room to get some weapons. Initially, we were told we could have weapons because we were patients, but with a little convincing, we were issued weapons. By this time the attack was over and the VC had fled back into the night. Myself and some of the other patients pulled guard duty that night. I guess I had not learned to duck properly with my first Purple Heart, I received my second Purple Heart that night. The center was attacked again not long after that, but that’s a story for another time.

When I was young I had gone to the altar at the Fulton Ave. Baptist Church and asked God to come into my heart. As the years had passed, I had drifted away from the church, but God had not drifted away from me. I believe that it was God who called my name and shook me awake that night. He still had plans for me and people’s lives that He wanted me to influence or be influenced by. I came back to Him during a revival at another Baptist church after Brenda & I were married.

Bien Hoa Hospital to Cam Ranh Bay "Safest Place in Vietnam" Part 1

This is one of those stories that I have shared with my girls and just a few others. Sometimes it seems more like a dream. Last year I shared the story of how I was wounded on the same day our astronauts walked on the moon. As I said, after the field medic worked on the wound, I was carried first by stretcher to an ambulance, I think, could have been just a truck, to the local field hospital. There they determined that the wound was too bad to work on there, and ordered a copter to fly me to a landing strip, I remember the copter ride, I was on a stretcher just inside the door and could see the jungle flying past me. Did not seem like too long a ride, but could not say for sure as it all kept fading in and out.  At the landing strip they put me on a C-130 cargo plane to Bien Hoa Hospital. I remember walking off the plane at Bien Hoa with blood soaking the bandage around my leg and the doctor chewing out the crew because I was walking and not on a stretcher. Apparently someone messed up and listed me as ambulatory, which meant I could walk. They put me in a bed and a nurse came in to clean the wound. I have a pretty high tolerance for pain, but when she started to work, all I could do was just grit my teeth and hold the bed rails. In Vietnam they have many strange creatures, one of which was a lizard that when it screams seems to say a four letter word followed by "you". There was one of those lizards in the window above my head screaming its head off, and as I laid there below while the nurse worked, I thought, "You tell her buddy!"

They said I could shower which I really wanted to do, but it was an interesting prospect because they said I could not get the leg wet. I finally figured out a solution and taped a trash bag around the wound and stood in the shower with that leg outside propped on a bench that was outside the shower.

Not sure how long I was there before they operated and got the shrapnel out. Don't think it was too long. I remember they gave me a shot that numbed me from the waist down, but did not put me to sleep. Part of the way through the operation the numbness wore off just as they cut something, I said, "Hey, I felt that!", so they numbed me again. They said I was lucky and only lost three inches of muscle,  the shrapnel missed the bone, otherwise they said I would probably have lost the leg. The shrapnel going in made a hole the size of a quarter, but stopped just before coming out the other side. Again in this I was lucky, had it come out the back side of my leg the damage would have been greater as it would have blown out that side of my leg. Because of this, most of the damage was limited to the muscle and nerves. The nerves still are not right, if you touch the front of my leg, I feel it in the back. Funny what you can get used to.

From Bien Hoa they flew me to Cam Ranh Bay Hospital to recover, before I was to return to my unit. Tomorrow I will share about how Cam Ranh Bay, "The Safest Place in Vietnam" stopped me from returning to my unit.

The Birthday Gift No One Forgot

It was May 31st 1952, Mom was having her 12th and final child. Another boy, who they named Ernie. He was one ugly baby.......just kidding. Not only was this a special day because Ernie was born, but it was also Mom's 39th birthday. Mom was born May 31, 1913.

Many years later, we had a surprize birthday party for Mom. Not sure but I think all the her children were there and many of the grandchildren. We had cake, lots of food (always lots of food when the Henson family gathered), presents were given and opened. We were all having a good time.

Then Mom's final present was carried in. It was a very large box that required several of the boys to carry in. The present was put in front of her. We all gathered around to watch her open it. No one could guess what it was and Mom had no idea.

She opened the present and just burst out laughing. She laughed so hard she had tears in her eyes. Everyone was laughing with her. The present took her back to the day Ernie was born.

Ernie was really an ugly baby this time and I am not kidding. He was wearing a diaper, and had a baby bottle.