During my 50th plus 1 class reunion in September, I got to spend quite a bit of time
with my lifelong friend, classmate and old neighbor
Steve Johnson. On the Saturday before the reunion we drove up and down
many of the country roads that we used to traverse as kids. We shared
a lot of stories and memories and looked at how the landscape has
changed around Concord Township since the days of our youth. There are
houses and building sites where there used to be farm fields. There
are farm fields where building sites used to be. There are fields
where the old railroad track used to be that ran parallel to highway
56.
Steve regaled me in stories of how he used to go over to play with Joe
Erler, who lived in what used to be the old country school house that
was about halfway between our farms. The one story was about the two
of them throwing darts until one dart landed right on the forehead of
Joe. That’s when Steve was sent home. But he was asked to come back.
And so he did and by then Joe had a pony. Steve said let’s play Roy
Rogers. Steve ran up behind the pony and jumped up and got right on
the pony. He told Joe to try it. Well it did not end well as Joe was
about to leap on the pony’s back, the pony kicked Joe right in the
gut. Steve was sent home again.
But there was another time. Steve was over and noticed wasps going in
and out of the water faucet on the side of the house. A bit later
after some running around the yard, Joe said he was thirsty and Steve
suggested that Joe put his mouth on the outlet of the faucet and he
would turn it on. As you can imagine, Joe got a mouthful, not of water
but of wasps. Steve did not wait, he went home. Through it all, Steve
and Joe remained good friends.
During our visit on reunion weekend, Steve showed me his scrapbook of
his military career. He joined the Marines right after graduation in
1971. After completing his 2 year active duty contract spending 15 of
those months in Iwakuni, Japan with the 1st Marine Air Wing, he
re-enlisted for an additional 4 years. He was selected to attend
Marine Security Guard School in Virginia. Upon graduation, he was
again selected to be a member of a very small group of Marines to
provide security to Ambassadors and other dignitaries around the
globe.
This group was under the operational control of the U.S. Department of
State and was known as the ‘Personal Protective Security Unit’. One
such mission was to protect U.S. Secretary of State Henry Kissinger.
Steve traveled around the globe providing this security along with
State Department security personnel and the US Secret Service. His
scrapbook included a cabin pass to Air Force One in case Sec.
Kissinger had to fly with the President. Steve lived out of a suitcase
much of the time. He spent Christmas Day, 1973 standing outside Dr.
Kissinger’s residence in Washington DC, one of his more unenjoyable
duties.
Through much of the 70’s, Steve was in hostile territory starting with
the Yom Kippur war. This was a war in October, 1973 between Israel and
a coalition of Arab states led by Egypt and Syria. Some U.S. Marines
were right in the middle of this fight and Steve was among them. Even
though the fighting lasted less than a month, it was a war which meant
it was dangerous and deadly and a near confrontation between the
Soviet Union and the U.S. was averted.
His orders took him to the Dirty War in Argentina which lasted from
1974 to 1983. This was an internal political, ideological war where
it’s estimated that from 10,000 to 30,000 people died. In a box of old
memorabilia I have, I recently found a letter I received from Steve
that had a return address of Buenos Aires, Argentina and was
postmarked July 11, 1974. I sent a copy of it to Steve and after he
read it he emails me that things must have been going bad at the time
he wrote it. He added that it was going bad most of the time he was
there.
Vietnam was no different. Steve was a Staff Sergeant on security
detail for U.S. Ambassador Graham Martin and the U.S. Embassy in
Saigon. Steve told me at our 45th class reunion about one night about
a month before Saigon fell when he was on duty by himself in the
embassy. Martial law had been declared in Saigon. He thought he saw
lightning bugs that were faster than any he ever saw back on the farm
in Concord Township. Then he realized that they weren’t lightning bugs
but instead they were tracer bullets.
Over the years I’ve told the story how my classmate was on one of the
last choppers off the roof of the embassy. While that is true, it
doesn’t begin to tell the story of the chaos that ensued in those last
hours. There is a newsletter and website called HistoryNet that is
produced by the Weider History Group, the world’s largest publisher of
history books. Two writers, Bob Drury and Tom Clavin wrote a book
about the final day and the evacuation of the Saigon Embassy. The
edited version for a newsletter is a very well written piece of
exactly what went down that day. It was an extremely gripping piece
of reading especially since I personally knew one of the players in
the story.
Exceptionally gripping because just 24 hours before this, two of
Steve’s fellow marines were killed at the Tan Son Nhut runway as the
airport had been bombed. After that, evacuations were done by
helicopters only. Literally hundreds of chopper flights came and left
from the roof of the embassy to ferry remaining Americans and refugees
to ships at sea. At 4:58 on the morning of April 30, 1975, Ambassador
Martin left on a chopper and took the flag with him and landed on the
Seventh Fleet command ship Blue Ridge. Those higher in command
thought when the Ambassador left, all military personnel were out.
That was not the case. At least 60 Marines plus some others from
other branches of the service were still there. Not to mention the
400 refugees inside the gate of the embassy grounds hoping to get out
and hundreds more busting down the fences to get in.
All of this going on while the North Vietnam Army (NVA) was shooting
at choppers and people. After a call to the commanding General
stationed in Honolulu, the final choppers were sent in. To get as
many as possible on one chopper, they had to leave behind all personal
effects, helmets and flak gear. Between the second to last chopper and
the very last was about an hour wait. 11 Marines that waited for the
last ride out didn’t know if it would all end for them on the roof. It
did not. In the nick of time and under considerable enemy fire, a
CH-46 came in at daybreak to get the last Marines out. Many of the
refugees who thought they were about to get out, were left behind.
My friend, West Concord class of 1971 graduate Steve Johnson lived it
firsthand. He’s not a hero though. He told me so. The heroes were
his two fellow Marines who died at the airport and the other 58,000
who were killed in this war. So since I can’t call my friend a hero,
I call him a warrior.
The book Last Men Out by Bob Drury and Tom Clavin is available at
HistoryNetShop.com
