“I walked out the door for Vietnam, praying Lord, take care of me. They give you a list of things to pack, but when you get there, they take your bag; you never see it again. 

Our poncho liners were one of the most important things we carried besides our weapons, water, and radios.We wrapped up in them during the rain or cold, but they were our cover for a lot more. We didn’t have showers so we collected water in our ponchos during the monsoons, showering where the water came off. We also bathed in the river. The leeches don’t matter when you are dirty and nasty. 

I was a platoon leader with five squads of about 55 men. I was also the pay officer for our company. On paydays, a helicopter picked up me and the pay officers from other companies and took us to Camp Enari. It was about five weeks in the monsoons, and I was covered in mud. I hadn’t slept, changed clothes, or shaved in a month. I probably looked like a gorilla. I got off the helicopter, and a Jeep went flying by. It slammed on the brakes and backed up. This guy looked at me and said, ‘John Roussos, what are you doing here?’ 

We had gone to school together at  Florida State. He was in the quartermaster corps that did all the supplying. I walked over to him, and he said, ‘Don’t touch me. You’re Nasty. Get in my Jeep.’ He took me to his hooch with a wooden shower outside his tent.

He said, ‘Roussos, here’s a bar of soap and clean towel. Get in that shower and you stay there until I come and get you.’

When I got out, he had a brand new uniform for me on his bed with brand new boots and socks. Even a new name tag with my name on it. He fixed me two ribeye steaks on the grill, gave me a few beers, and made me stay with him that night to get some sleep. He knew what lieutenants coming in from the boonies were up against.  The next day, he sent me to get a haircut and asked what else he could do for me. 

I asked what were the chances of taking beer back to my platoon? 

I went to get my company’s pay, and he was waiting for me at the helicopter pad with 50 cases of Budweiser on a pallet. Next to the pallet were two 100-pound blocks of ice in a net. 

When we went up, the pallet and ice hung 20 or 30 feet underneath us. We flew across Vietnam, loaded down with beer and ice, dropping off other officers. They were mad because nobody else had beer. I called my platoon in for a meeting and flew the beer and ice to them. 

I told them they could have a beer or two a day. That was one of the good days in Vietnam. 

I’m 80 years old. My family started asking questions about the war; I just started telling some of the stories a few years ago. I don’t tell stories about combat–I still don’t sleep good. 

I tell my kids to do the right things: take care of your family and country and always be good citizens. I’m praying every day that my grandsons don’t have to go through what I went through.”

John

(April 30 is the 50th Anniversary of the Fall of Saigon–the day the last American soldiers left Vietnam. This year, we are telling some of the stories of Vietnam from the men who fought there to the Vietnamese refugees who came to the U.S. and started new lives.)