So many people remember Tommy. So many lives were touched by Tommy. So much is owed to Tommy. No one paragraph can say it all. No book could say it all. But a collection of words from different people with different views sets the tone for our collective feeling of sadness and loss.

I didn't know Nick too well, in part because he didn't have much time in country. He was quite a likable guy, always looking for something to wager on, a typical "kid from Brooklyn". We often wondered how he managed to send home all his winnings and not get busted for it! He was called "The Greek" and was always wearing his pant legs rolled up at the boot. I wasn't with the unit the night he died, but that trademark was apparently the way they were able to confirm who he was after being hit directly with a mortar.

PFC Martin Joseph Grace
26 May 1968
K Co. 3rd Marines, 3rd MAR DIV
The Wall - Panel 66W, Line 006

Joe was the best friend I've ever had, next to my wife. He was a little guy, but didn't have a chip on his shoulder like most, but had an aura about him that let people know he wouldn't put up with their bull shit. He believed in God and his Country. His dream was to be a Marine.
We both came from lower income families, Joe more so being his parent's were separated. We spent hours fishing on the creek not far from our homes, or taking turns shooting Gar fish with my 22 single shot rifle and just talking. We raised hell together and PARTIED, man, did we ever drink some beer.
Joe was a 60 Gunner with K Co. 3/3. It has taken me 30 yrs to find out how Joe died. He was wounded four times in a battle at Dai Do, and refused to give up his weapon each time, the fifth time was between the eye's, and all he received was one Purple Heart. I think Joe deserved more than that.
When I'm down in my personal hell, my wife comforts me. But when I look over a lake or the land all alone with no distractions, Joe and Mike come and lift the burden off my shoulders, and tell me:

I didn't find this web site until yesterday, and wanted to add my belated tribute to SSG Kalhagen. He was with me on the day he died, and his memory has been with me in all the years since. I was then CO of C/1-77, and SSG Kalhagen's unit was attached to us that day. I had worked with him before, and trusted his experience and judgment without hesitation. He was ahead of me, on point; we both saw the NVA lean out of the bunker at the same time. There were two shots; Kalhagen said "Oh, no!" and fell. It could as easily have been me, in which case I can only hope he would remember me as I do him.

I was a buck sgt.in Viet Nam in 1968. I was wounded on August 12, 1968 near Camp Red Devil. I am so sorry that I don't know more about the soldier I want to honor. He was only in my squad a couple of days when he died. We were on a search and destroy mission that day when we found ourselves chin deep in water searching for charlie. We needed to move faster as the company was on dry land and getting too far ahead of us. I turned to tell the PFC to get moving when I saw his back explode. He moved a bush with his M-16 and was shot at point blank range by a VC and he fell face first into the water. I was returning fire when I was also wounded. I went back to the world and he went to see God. This man talked about Texas and that is about all I know of him. I pray that someone someday can tell me more. I pray for him all the time. He gave his live so we could be free. God bless this Hero.

Dave, I was one of the last men to join your platoon, before we left Ft. Carson for Vietnam and I never had the priviledge to get to know you on a personal level.
When directed to bring relief to "A" Company, which had been pinned down under heavy enemy fire during Operation Rich, you led the way for the rest of us to follow. Only after reaching one of the forward positions and deploying your men were you stopped by a snipers bullet along with our RTO, Thomas Ray. Those of us who remain from Recon salute you and regret that we never had a chance to talk to you again. You were one hell of an Officer.
We will always remember you.

I went through Armor OCS with Dave Merril and was assigned to Ft. Carson with him after graduation in December 1967. He was a terrific guy. Mild mannered, soft spoken and fun loving. His wife Phoebe was also wonderful person and took pitty on us single Lt's by having us over for dinner occasionally. Needless to say, we were all shocked and saddened when learning of his unfortunate death.

Remembrance of Ken Neuberger:

Although life is a journey, it may also be viewed as a play with many acts, each with a different cast of characters. Ken Neuberger was a star in a major act in the play of my life.

This act begins in March of 1968 at Ft Carson, Colorado. A unit was being formed to ultimately be deployed to Vietnam and I was ordered to be the platoon leader of a special experimental portion, the flame thrower platoon of the 1/61 Infantry. We started gaining men from all over America: amongst others, a roughneck from Colorado, a Mexican farm worker from California's central valley, a cocky kid from Ohio, a black from Texas, a street wise kid from Philly, a hillbilly from Appalachia, middle class kids from Minnesota, Jersey, Kansas City, Michigan, and a big, tall, handsome kid from Watertown, South Dakota.

We all knew deep in our hearts that our job would be dangerous, and if this sentiment became openly stated, who knows how bad the effect may have been. But this never happened because we had kids who became men, knew their duty, and presented a sunny outlook on the situation. The sunniest of all was my Jeep driver, Ken Neuberger.

Ken protected the back of this young un-experienced Lieutenant. One day, Ken & I were to join the platoon training in the southern part of Ft. Carson. There were several roads we could have taken to get out there, but on the map there was one goat trail shown going up the plateau. I said "let's take it", and so we did. Stupid Officer, this was not a trail but more of a mountain climb. But we were committed, Ken would drive forward 3 feet, I would place rocks behind the wheels, go forward to get more rocks, Ken would drive forward, hopefully never looking to the side, & so on until we reached the top.

Of course, two things could have subsequently occurred. Ken could have told the platoon that their leader was stupid and dangerous to all, or just turn to me at the top as he did, give a big smile, shake my hand and say (probably in rougher language than this) "Damn LT, we did it." From that moment forward, I never doubted that my back would be covered and the Guardian Angels had sent their representative in Ken.

We served in Vietnam, did our jobs, but ultimately the platoon was split up and Ken went South to the "Big Red One" and I stayed in the northern part of the country. I always wondered what happened to my Angel. 34 years later I learned: Ken fought hard, was wounded severely, earned well deserved medals, and would bear pain from that point forward. I was not surprised to learn of these things, Ken had the great heart and would be protecting others first.

Last July we met again, the big angel embracing me with a bear hug. The same type of hug he provided to Buffy, his children and grand children, a hug that said I was safe and welcome. The huge strong body had mostly been given to his country, but the heart was all there. That heart, which gave so much to so many finally, finally reached the breaking point.

We go forward with more acts of our lives, a different cast of characters, but with tears in my eyes, I will smile because I, and others still have that big smiling Angel looking out for us.

Sgt. Oberle was wounded and later died of his wounds on the very day he was to leave the field. We have all heard stories of short timers that died when they where getting close to their DEROS date. This is my Tribute to my friend Stewart W. Oberle.
Sgt.Oberle took me under his wing when I come to the unit in December 1968. He showed me by example how to lead and protect the men in our squad. He had a "Heads Up" out-look on the war we fought in and near the DMZ. His insight in keeping all the men in our unit safe and out of harm's way was uncanny. Under his leadership not a single man was wounded or killed in his squad while I was in the unit. He had earned the respect of all that served with him. From the CO to NFG like me, he was well liked by all.
Oberle was a zero day short timer. In the hills west of Quang Tri we said our good byes and 32 squad left on patrol on foot for the day. All that day I could think of nothing except that I may never see him again. His was on his way back to the "World" and I was left behind in this shit hole called Nam. Upon our return a chopper with mail and chow was leaving the CP. This was the chopper that was taking Oberle back to the LZ Sharon for processing out of country. As the chopper pulled up and lifted out of sight we heard the sounds of RPG's and AK-47 gunfire opening up just out side the northern edge of our unit. We all knew that that two tanks and two APC's where returning to our base camp for repairs. We had no idea that Sgt.Oberle was driving the 32 track. The track driver had mashed his hand while making repairs on the track that day. Sgt.Oberle took his place. They said he wanted to drive it "One last time". He was mortally wounded by an RPG when it hit the trim vane.
I owe my life to the man that wanted to keep his squad safe. He taught me how to stay alive. I will be forever in his debt. Because of his actions and examples he saved the lives of many that followed.
"No greater HERO than one who gives his all".