November 9 - 15, 2017 • thenorthernlight.com
9
A TRIBUTE TO OUR
HONORING ALL WHO HAVE SERVED!
By the Grace of God Blaine resident tells his story By Joe Luna In January 1966, the 2nd Battalion 5th Marine Division was deployed overseas. Half of the battalion would travel directly to Vietnam, while the other half would spend a month in Okinawa in training before making an amphibious landing on the Chu Lai Peninsula of Vietnam. I was among those sent to Okinawa for training. Our first couple of weeks in Vietnam were spent on patrols, unloading supply ships and providing security for the Marine air base. It was there that I experienced my first exposure
to what war was all about. Early one morning I heard two loud explosions and someone shouting “Incoming” at the top of their lungs. Over all the commotion, I heard the screams of those who had been injured; screams that were more animal than human. We spent much of that day looking for the arm of one of the Marines that died. One of my responsibilities was to carry a radio. While on patrol one day, I was shifting the receiver – one hand to the other – when it slipped from my hands. Just as I bent down to pick it up, I heard a rifle shot
Best of the Best By Joe Luna In national cemeteries, the best of the best Who serve their country have come to rest. Hispanic, Asian, Choctaw, and slave Comrades in arms now they lie in a grave. Protectors of freedom, justice, and truth Many that lie here cut down in their youth. All served their country. Some gave their life Leaving behind mother, children, and wife. They suffered sorrow, disappointment, and pain. In a far distant land, they wept in the rain. Their dreams of tomorrow were shattered and torn Yet hopes for the future were often reborn. Today for our nation thousands still serve Active enlisted and some in reserve. Defenders of freedom and liberty Values cherish in this land of the free. Unspoken, unsaid their final request. When my chapter is closed and I go to my rest, Unite me once more with the best of the best.
Thank you Veterans!
and felt the bullet pass over me. A chill swept over me. I realized I had been in a sniper’s sights. In time, we were moved to more remote regions of the country. Most times we were transported by helicopter, but occasionally we went by truck. The helicopter engines drowned out our voices, making it difficult to hear one another conversing. We would reach our destination, the helicopter would drop to about two feet from the ground and then we would all disembark by jumping off both sides. On one occasion the helicopter I was riding in took small arms fire from the ground. Directed at us, the reports were shockingly loud. The first large-scale attack on our position took place at night: darkness and fear can play tricks on your mind. I would hear the rattle of pebbles placed in cans that were tied to the barbed wire surrounding our defensive position. My head would shift in all directions as the cans rattled. In the darkness, it seemed that I could see figures moving toward me as the enemy probed our perimeter looking for a weak spot. Suddenly, the darkness was replaced by flashes of light as rifles opened fire. I remember watching red tracer rounds of machine guns arcing away from our position and green tracer rounds coming toward us. In the distance, I could hear artillery rounds being fired. Rounds would explode in the air above us dropping illumination flares. The flares would drift to the ground on parachutes, brightening the area around us. Empty shell cases whistled through the air, one dropping about a foot from my location. Our days were spent on patrols in the surrounding area, night watches, night ambushes and fortifying our positions. Patrols would leave early in the morning and return by early afternoon. Nights were spent in pairs with each one’s watch lasting two hours. Night ambushes were conducted by squads which were sent to specified locations identified by specific coordinates. On one such rotation, we were deployed to a trail that ran along some rice paddies. We set up our position in a part of the jungle that bordered the trail.
s A photo of Joe Luna taken in April 1967 following his recovery from surgery wounds in Vietnam.
Photos courtesy of Joe Luna
Honoring Vets! Where healing begins! H E A LT H C L I N I C
288 Martin Street • Downtown Blaine
360-788-4228
Make Our it a sincere great thanks! year!
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