Bullet in the Chest

The following account is a true incident that took place at C Company sometime between 1969 and 1970. The account was one my father had told to me several times throughout the years. I added some commentary to make the story flow but the event is true. Please ignore the grammar as this is just a rough draft for now and if some details are wrong or could be more accurate please let me know. Thanks everyone.

John Wayne McGovern, yes the same name as the politician was working with Willy in one of C company’s cargo sheds. The platoon sergeant didn't have much for them to do so he had them cleaning out and riding up the terribly messy equipment shed.

Willy was sweeping in the back corner of the shed when he heard an “ouch” from McGovern. McGovern had just stepped into the opening of the doorway and it was common for bees to build nests in these doorways.

Willy stops for a second and says, “What happened? Did you get stung by a bee?”

McGovern continued to squirm and complain about pain in his chest.

Willy walked over to McGovern, who was holding his chest like a dog with a hurt paw.

“Let me see what the heck happened.” Willy said.

As McGovern moved his hands Willy could only see blood coming out of his chest. It wasn't a gushing amount of blood but enough to know it wasn't a bee sting.

Willy took off his own shirt and tries to blot away the blood to see what had happened.

“Ouch! Damn it!” McGovern screeched, “Don’t touch it, it hurts like hell.”

After finally letting Willy examine the wound better he could see what appeared to be the end of a bullet. “What the hell?” Willie thought to himself.

“I think you've been shot!”

At that moment McGovern turned as white as a ghost.

“My god! I knew I’d die over here. It’ll serve my wife right for saying she hopes I die in Vietnam and don’t come back.”

“Shut the hell up McGovern! You’re not going to die I can see the ass end of the bullet right here. If you just hold still I could get a better look.”

Willy knew it wasn't a life threatening wound but it sure could've been. The only question was where the hell did the bullet come from? It was the middle of the day and he hadn't even heard a shot.

Willy didn't hesitate though. He ran around the corner, only about 50 yards to the medics shack. One medic was still in the building doing some routine work.

Quickly the medic ran over to assist McGovern. 

After studying the wound for a minute he ran back to the medic building where he grabbed what looked like to Willy to be a pair of pliers.

McGovern wasn't really cooperative, but he had been shot and he didn't know how badly.

The medic wiggled the bullet back and forth, while McGovern screamed but easily pulled out the bullet from his chest.

The bullet lodged itself in McGovern’s breast bone but didn't have enough velocity to penetrate the bone.

The medic wrapped McGovern’s chest in a field dressing and led him over to the medic’s shack where he drew up some antibiotics, some pain medication, and called Long Binh for a helicopter.

Sometime later a huey was overhead and landed in the LZ outside the small 100 man compound. It picked up McGovern and took him to a better medical facility on the small city sized post south of C Company’s compound.

Later the medic and Willy chatted up what had happened earlier. They presumed that what had happened was someone from a long distance away, maybe in the nearby village had lobbed up a 7.62 x 39 bullet in the direction of C Company’s compound. Whether they took a pot shot at movement or just lobbed it up in the direction of the compound will never be known.

“What an unlucky son of gone!” Willy said to the medic. “The sad part is that his wife keeps writing him letters telling him that she hopes he never makes it back. The worst part is that McGovern can barely read the letters, so I read them to him. I personally wrote a letter back to her because I was so pissed that she’s putting him through this kind of mental torture.”

“Yeah, the damnedest thing is that she almost got her wish in such an unlucky way.” The Medic said.

“What do you think they’ll do with McGovern?” Willy asked.

“Well they’ll probably send him to Japan for a few months and might give him the option to go home but believe it or not most of the guys who complain all the time about being over here and get wounded end up coming back by choice.” The Medic stated.

The medic was right, Willy thought. Vietnam was a strange place for more reasons than he could name. A person could get the smallest burn or cut and it would fester and become infected in no time. It was just a filthy environment.

Willy left the conversation and headed back to bunker 3, his three-quarters buried home for year. He couldn't get the thought out of his mind about why so many guys who were here who hated it, even draftees would opt to come back to this place.

Maybe it was the camaraderie? Maybe it was fear of what life was like back home?

Who knows, but sure as can be, McGovern was back about three months later.

Introduction and Why Write about Vietnam?

Hello Everyone,

I feel that I should introduce myself for several reasons. Since I was a young boy as far back as I can remember my dad talked about his experiences in Vietnam. I was born in 1978 so it really wasn't that long after the war ended. I would listen to these stories with complete attention, fascination, and sometimes disbelief.

The experience of war is an event that sticks with every man or even woman and they'll never forget. My family has a long history of serving in the Army and I was always proud of that. My grandfather was a bombardier in B-24 bombers in World War 2 and my other grandfather also served. All 4 of my uncles on my dad's side of the family also served, including my dad, and all retired with at least 20 years of service.

I served 7 years in an artillery unit, starting in 1996, with one year in Europe after 9/11. I was warned not to join, especially the Army, but I had to find out what it was like. I listened for years at every Christmas party to all the stories, excitement, and occasionally the bad times of military service. I fortunately or unfortunately ETS'ed out in Feb. 2003, the same month the U.S. invaded Iraq. Nearly every day I wonder if I should've volunteered to go there or the Afghanistan.

The way I see the military is like an abusive husband and the soldier is the battered wife. Most of the time it's tough, boring, and you feel stuck. Occassionally, just as an abusive husband can be sweet as can be the Army is awesome, exciting, exhilarting, and makes you feel great. When you leave it's tough, no matter how much you hated it. The Army provides just enough security, money, food, etc. that when you leave you almost regret it and want to go back. The military knows this just like the husband does. I'm only speaking for myself but it's the best explanation I can come up with why I miss it and dream about it a lot.

Anyways, I can't write about Vietnam from a complete accurate viewpoint and I can't feel everything the soldiers did that were there, but I can identify with them a little more than the average "civilian", so here we go.

Others might wonder, "Why write about a war that's been written about and discussed more than probably any other modern war?" Well, it's personal to me since my dad was there. The experiences that he had shouldn't be forgotten. He'll be the first to tell you that his feelings are completely mixed on the war overall but I know my dad's heart and he did some courageous actions that to me were enough to say "Hey this war was worth it." He did like many other young men did in what felt like a hopeless situation, He helped other people and did the right thing amidst others who did the wrong things just because they could get away with it during wartime.

By no means was he a saint. He'll tell you that himself. I'll certaintly share some of those wild and crazy moments too. Some of those moments could be questioned too as right or wrong, but overall I feel he did what he could. You have to remember these soldiers were young, damn near kids still but that didn't stop them from beating the tar out of the enemy on the battlefield. The soldiers didn't lose the war as the media and liberals wanted everyone to believe. The American people refused to pay the price for victory even though these soldiers were willing to give everything, up to and including their own lives.

This aspect of the war is another reason I need to write about it. Sure, there were mistakes and mishaps but it was war and noone can control the actions of hundreds of thousands of soldiers. The idea that the government did not stand behind their own troops sickens me, but it doesn't surprise me.

I'm a historian by nature, so I'll try to throw out a lot of history, maybe too much, but I also want to show you the human side from a dirty, dusty, boots on the ground perspective, since this is where the war was being fought and experienced.

Finally, I regret that my dad lost almost everyone of his pictures from Vietnam when our family had a house fire in 1999. I wish I had them but I don't. I know some by memory but that's it. If you're willing to share any photos or stories with me I'd be eternally greatful. Thank You. My email is jeffben19782003@gmail.com

Stay Tuned.