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Maj. Smith is in the center
12 February 2015. 12 February 1973.
Today is the anniversary of my return from a jungle POW camp in Cambodia. The communists were certainly themselves to the very last moment, taking us to the airfield for release, then taking us back to the jungle before finally releasing us.
I was not about to allow them to take my bag because I had stolen my old uniform, dishes, chopsticks, sandals and chain after they gave us the new stuff.
In the picture from the National Infantry Museum, you can see I kept my bag. I wanted folks to know who they really were and not the smiling clowns on the airfield.
A communist tried to shake my hand before I climbed aboard the chopper.
A Special Forces NCO took one look at my face, picked me up like a child and sat me in the bird before it evolved into something serious. Only Huey I ever saw with bucket seats.
We got to Saigon for transfer to an Air Force C-9 Nightingale and I heard a very familiar voice. He was shouting at me from the area along the fence. I so appreciated that sir.
On to Clark AFB, and I was told that I would be the first Army POW off the aircraft in California on Valentine’s Day.
I appreciate that my president bombed the crap out of the communists until they allowed myself and the other 26 jungle POWS, along with all the men in Hanoi, to come home with honor.
I know what happened in 1975.
But that day we knew the communists did not beat us. Our leader just bombed their little butts into submission.
I mourn today that Col. Ed Carlson and Brig. Gen. Dave Baker are no longer with us.
The five of us remaining from Klink's Kottages will never forget them.
Nobody ever heard one word from us until we came home.
I salute you, my brethren.
On this day I remain a proud American.
I say without reservation to those serving today, you are supported until you win this one!
When the sun sets tonight, there will be a mournful sound from the thousands of dead communists buried around Loc Ninh Vietnam.
I spent many years putting them there.
No fewer than seven thousand (their commander said more) just from 4-8 April 1972.
Yes, I know the books say it ended on the seventh. Just because my radio was shot up does not mean I did not keep killing them until captured on the eighth.
My only regret is I didn’t kill more.
Tonight there will once again be no nightmares for me from my experiences in war.
But I might hear my own voice “Sundog Double Deuce–Zippo– just hit us again with Snake and Nape because I can hear the little sons of Ho squalling.”
Say a prayer tonight for the too many brethren still unaccounted for from that war.
As the one picture of my current arsenal indicates my powder remains dry today.
God bless America!
Maj. Mark (Zippo) Smith may be contacted at theziphmself@gmail.com
