Two Generals

By Dave Beakey

I bumped into two generals at Khe Sanh. Since I was there for only two months, that might seem strange. But looking at the bigger picture, it makes more sense. In April and May, 1968, Khe Sanh was still big news. All of America had heard of the assault by NVA troops and the terrific defense mounted by the 26th marines. Our group, 2/1, and others, relieved the 26th in April. We humped through the bush, parallel to Route 9 in the mountains, during Operation Pegasus.

My first encounter with a general was somewhat awkward. I needed to get from one side of the perimeter to the other, and decided to go straight across the airstrip. The airstrip was a mess, and included huge chunks of metal, gouged out by mortars and artillery rounds. There was a dead C130, next to a hole. The hole was a half-hearted attempt to “bury” the plane, but incoming rounds had put an end to that. Even in May, planes couldn’t land, due to the poor shape of the airstrip and the number of artillery rounds that rained in on the base. Most marines avoided the airstrip, as it was like a huge football field; totally bare and open. But I was in a hurry, so I set out and hoped for the best.

Once I started hustling, I had tunnel vision. I was focused on the far trench line. Soon, though, I noticed a lone figure striding towards me. I knew instinctively that he was an officer. As we neared each other, I knew, somehow, that he was a high ranking officer. Soon, I got close enough to realize that he was a general. We walked directly towards each other, the only humans on top of Khe Sanh, on the “strip”. I knew that he was worried that I would panic and salute him. We came face to face. I cleared my throat and said, “Afternoon Sir”. He said, “Afternoon, marine.” We went about our business.

The second time I saw a general at Khe Sanh, it was not so pleasant, not so mundane. I was walking near the airstrip. By now, choppers were landing regularly. It must have been late May, 1968. The choppers were delivering supplies, but also stopping by to disembark combat troops, sometimes directly from firefights. Once I saw a tall black marine run off a chopper. His eyes were wide and he was waving a 45 pistol. On another day, I saw 3 combat news photographers lined up neatly, on the ground. They had been killed in an ambush, on Route 9. I was ashamed when some marines stole their cameras, as they lay there, quiet and dead.

I was up by the airstrip again the next day. A company had spent several days flushing out some NVA mortar positions and snipers. A chopper landed and I helped unload some dead marines. They were put in body bags and laid out on the red dirt. There were 6 body bags. Then I noticed a general, nearby. He walked over to the bags, as another chopper hovered nearby. He bent over and unzipped a bag partially. I could see the marine’s face, gray, with his eyes half-open. The general paused. He shook his head. His lips came together and for a moment, his sorrow was evident. He didn’t think anyone was watching. He zipped up the bag and turned away.

I know the generals and other top officers are always willing to sacrifice a certain amount of troops to attain their goals. But I never thought that they were human beings. My brief glimpse that day helped me see things from their point of view. They had feelings. But I still think that generals and colonels need to see a lot more things from our point of view.