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My dad reunited with a buddy from 'nam


Akula

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The other day my father got a strange phone call, it happens to you and I all the time but not like this…

 

 

When my dad was in ‘nam he had several friends come and go either sent home after their tours, or sent home wounded or worse. They had setup along a river on a sugar sand beach and had a pretty good position dug in. The beach was really hard to build a fortification on because for every foot of depth they dug, they had to dig the hole five feet in diameter. So, two feet down and ten feet wide was a pretty big fox-hole and a mighty easy target to hit. The first rounds fell near the camp and dad was hit pretty quickly. The medic told him his head wound was superficial and he bandaged it up (just one of 3 purple hearts he received over there). Round after round fell into their position and suddenly an explosion nearby, followed by the all to familiar scream of MEDIC, told dad that another one of his friends may no longer be with him.

 

 

The sergeant in the foxhole had a sucking chest wound thru the back; his flack jacket had a good sized hole in it, the mortar landed right in the fox hole. Dad helped get the chest wound under control and started looking for anyone else and then he found him. Ridge-Runner was a nice kid from a poor family that lived near the mountains; they all said he must have one leg shorter than the other in order to run on the ridge tops. He had a pretty bad neck wound and they didn’t want to move him. Dad and the medic packed him in sandbags to keep him still and to try to save him should another round fall close by.

 

 

Daylight meant they would be a little safer as the VC stayed out of sight should an air strike be ordered. The medivacs landed and the sergeant and Ridge-Runner were loaded on a chopper, dad gave Ridge-Runner a shot of morphine and told him he would be OK. Dad then boarded another chopper and never saw Ridge-Runner again. Dad wrote a letter home to my grandmother and told her that if dad was KIA he wanted her to check in on Ridge-Runner because he knew his family was poor and he was wounded badly. He new he did not die in-country since his name doesn’t appear on the wall at the Vietnam memorial but he never really knew.

 

 

Well, Grandma wrote Ridge-Runner a letter to let him know that if he ever needed anything to give her a call.

 

 

A few weeks ago, Ridge-Runner found the letter and using the internet he found my dad. The phone rang and it was Ridge-Runner’s wife on the other end, “Are you Gary Kent”

 

“Yes”

 

“Did you know Ridge-Runner, in Vietnam?”

 

“Yes”

 

“Hang on, let me put him on the phone.”

 

 

They talked about what they have been up to and talked about that day along-side that river. They decided they need to see each other soon.

 

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Great post, and thanks for sharing. It amazes me how time flies by and you lose touch with people.

 

When I came back from Iraq last year, one of my buddies from the Marines was here in Columbus. He lives in Texas, but was here for his work. He had called everyone in Vermont with my last name, knowing that is where my family is, and that I lived in Columbus. He got through to my mom and she remembered me talking about him and gave him my new cell number. I hadn't seen him in almost 9 years. It was great to see all the people that I was close with here, but having him be here the week after I came home was a great feeling.

 

Your dad must be pretty excited. Again, thanks for posting.

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Not intending to bring a bummer to this thread, but in 1999 my father was perusing some Vietnam web pages when he happened across a thread started by a son who had lost his father in a plane crash in Thailand during the war. The gentleman was seeking answers as to the happenings that killed his pilot father that the Air Force had classified as pilot error.

 

My father recognized the last name and sent the guy an e-mail asking for his father name and was amazed to think that the father was possibly his roomate on a US base in Thailand when the terrible incident occured.

 

A bit of history: My Dad was a navigator stationed in Thailand with a squadron of 13 unarmed reconnaissance B-66 flying missions over North Vietnam. He had flown over 100 sorties. 11 of the original squadron were shot down in combat.

 

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/c/c2/RB-66B.jpg/250px-RB-66B.jpg

 

After being sent the son's phone #, dad called and verified that this was indeed his former roomate's son who was pleading for more information about his fathers death.

 

Dad proceded to fly to Oregon, with all of his memorabilia (including candid pictures of his father), and proceded to explain that the was standing on the runway when his father, limping a severly damaged B-66 back to the base, was killed. The engine was emitting a large volume of black smoke and it was apparent that it was barely generating enough thrust to keep the plane aloft. He watched in horror as the plane slammed onto the tarmac, on the apron of the runway, and exploded. All the crew members were killed instantly including the pilot, my father's roomate.

 

The Air Force in thier infinite wisdom had sent a letter to the family stating that their beloved had been killed in a plane crash in Thailand atrributed to pilot error. 20+ years later, my father brought some clarity and peace to a family who had mourned blindly, questioning what really happened.

 

R.I.P. LtCol James E. Ricketts Jr. and the crew of Tail # 53-0498. Recently reclassified to KIA

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