Many of the boxes came as a result of men writing to loved ones, friends and organizations in the States and telling of the needs of the people — especially the children. Those who had ended their tours in Vietnam told people at home what they had seen. We rarely knew how people learned of our program, but the boxes kept coming.

The Vien Duc Anh Bae Ae orphanage remained a priority for our assistance. The soldiers had helped this orphanage ever since the unit’s arrival in 1965. Our mess hall almost immediately began daily delivery of its garbage to feed the orphanage’s pigs, which would later provide meat for the children.

The civic action fund council wanted to establish a monthly amount of money in piasters to be given to the orphanage. Council members agreed upon 15,000 piasters ($130) and received permission to examine the orphanage books monthly.

The orphanage was a home away from home for many of the soldiers. What these men were doing was great, but there was an even greater need that none of us could fill. When we visited the home, we often found children ill and in need of medical attention. It was not unusual to find a severely ill baby who had been admitted, only to die quickly. All the children had health problems, and most suffered from severe malnutrition. One nun who understood and spoke some English did the best she could at being the children’s doctor and nurse, but the burden rested heavily upon her.

Located in our area was the 85th Evacuation Hospital. Wondering whether any of the medical personnel there might be willing to minister to these children in their spare time, we consulted the commander of the 85th. A son of missionaries to Rhodesia, he said he thought it would be good for a doctor, nurse and corpsman team to go to the home on a regular basis. Before that week passed, two doctors made a survey of the situation, checked several children, set up a volunteer medical team and thereafter made weekly visits to the orphanage.

The medical care was a blessing to the children, and a welcome relief to the nun who had been serving as doctor and nurse. On later visits, we would often find a doctor and a couple of nurses from the 85th Evac Hospital there examining and treating the children. Death still took a child now and then, but the odds for survival increased greatly. Soon the children were being given those dreaded shots, vaccinating them against some childhood diseases.

Several of the GIs who regularly visited the children decided that something needed to be done about the orphanage kitchen. The food was cooked on an earthen stove in blackened pots over a wood-burning fire. Smoke from the fire also blackened the ceiling and walls. The most serious problem, though, was a continuous swarm of flies in the kitchen. The windows and doors were never closed, and there were no screens. Outside the kitchen windows were pigpens and a chicken yard. Throughout the neighborhood were open sewers and no-flush outhouses. The soldiers decided that the windows and doors needed screens and finally found what they thought was enough screening material to do the job. They worked as their time permitted over three or four weeks to install them, joking that screens would probably keep the flies inside rather than outside. That fear was realized when we brought visitors to see this splendid project later and found all the screens propped open, with more flies inside than out.

In October 1966, the orphanage received its first three Vietnamese-American babies. As cute as babies could be, they appeared healthier than the others. Looking at them brought questions to my mind: Where were their fathers? Did their fathers ever give them a thought? Would they ever have a chance in life?

Boxes, monetary support and medical attention continued to arrive for the orphanage. We obtained cement to build a dining room, a children’s playroom and a chapel on the grounds. As other military units came into the area, they too wanted to help. Since our objective was to undertake projects where the need was greatest and where the most good could be done, the fund council began looking for other ways to assist the people.

During a fund council meeting in September 1966, we voted to donate 59,000 piasters ($500) to construct another family house at the Qui Hoa leprosarium. This would be the second house to bear the 41st Signal Battalion’s insignia. At another council meeting two months later, a suggestion was made to help children to attend school. The cost of education in Vietnam was low, but many children’s families could not pay the fee.

We knew there were American educational advisers in the country and thought they might lend their support to our efforts. Another council member and I were made a committee of two to look into the matter. This was to be one of the most rewarding of my experiences in Vietnam. We began to work with Earl Casper, the American education adviser to the Qui Nhon Normal School, a two-year teachers’ college for training elementary school teachers. It was one of only two schools of its kind in all of Vietnam.

Enrollment in the normal school exceeded 700. Only recently had it been opened to female students, all of whom lived on campus. Male students were not permitted to live on campus and had to find a place to sleep and eat. Admission to the school was based on competitive examinations. In many ways the students were the elite of the Vietnamese people. Academically they were above average, chosen on the basis of test scores from among 1,400 who had applied for admission in 1966. Graduating students were permitted to select their teaching assignments based on the order of their class standing. There was no tuition at the school, but students had to pay all their living expenses. Most had a difficult time meeting expenses, as they came from very poor families in rural hamlets.

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