For me, 1965 was the year of my high school graduation, my first job and the Vietnam War. My final grades wouldn’t get me into any college, and having a low draft number, I considered joining the service. The local Air Force recruiter in Arlington, Virginia, told me that if I chose to join I would be part of the 18th anniversary commemoration of the Air Force: I would be one of 18 recruits who were 18 and would be sworn in on the 18th of the month. He assured me that I could find something in either art or photography. I said, “Let’s do it.” For the swearing in, the 18 recruits went to Washington, D.C., and Secretary of the Air Force Eugene Zukert gave us our oath. He shook hands with us, offered congratulations and said, “If there’s anything I can do for you, just ask.”
I shipped off to Lackland Air Force Base in Texas for basic training and then Shepard Air Force Base in Wichita Falls, Texas. I tested high in mechanical aptitude, and though I’d never owned a car or changed a spark plug, the Air Force decided I’d make a great aircraft mechanic. Not having been schooled yet in the “chain of command,” I sat down and wrote Secretary Zukert to ask him if I could swap to another occupation. Needless to say, my letter raised the ire of my unit, but in the end I was assigned as a visual information specialist.
As an illustrator and graphic designer, I illustrated every engine part, wiring diagram, electrical circuit and hydraulic gadget for every manual, training aid, slide show and flip chart at Shepard.
After three years in Texas I was ready for something new. So I volunteered again. This time for Vietnam.
The day I arrived at Tan Son Nhut, I was walking to my hooch when I noticed A-1E Skyraiders dive-bombing Viet Cong on the other side of a 20-foot wall. Soldiers were on the tops of the barracks watching what was going on. I had seen news coverage of the war and thought, “This is just like TV.” I spent the next few days filling sandbags until my orders came through. Everything was buzzing about the May Offensive following Tet.
I was assigned to Seventh Air Force headquarters. My unit, which was responsible for graphics, prepared the visuals for personnel in the “need to know” meetings, which occurred 24 hours a day, seven days a week. Not knowing one day from the next, my time in-country passed quickly. One of the events that seemed to blow by was the June 6 assassination of Robert Kennedy in Los Angeles.
In four months I was reassigned to the 460th Tactical Reconnaissance Wing— the unit responsible for both visual and electronic reconnaissance throughout Southeast Asia. I moved out to the flight line, where many types of aircraft were operating. It was so hot in my hooch that I started sleeping on the floor in a small air-conditioned communications room on the flight line. But after being mortared every other night, I was told to go back to my 98-degree hooch and my mosquito net.
My job was to review photographic surveillance of the Viet Cong conducted by the 460th. I especially remember the photos that showed bomb damage from airstrikes on the Mu Gia Pass in Laos. The pass was the choke point of the Ho Chi Minh Trail. So we bombed the hell out of it and then counted the truck kills and other damage with photo assessment and ground sensors. The VC just kept on rebuilding. This was a secret campaign until Newsweek magazine broke the story.
What I liked about my service was that between the guys, everyone was an expert on something. As long as we had tools, we could fix or build or create anything. We designed patches for various Air Force units—both official and unofficial— and took the designs into Saigon, where local Vietnamese tailors or dressmakers would make the patches on their sewing machines right there on the streets.
Close to the end of my assignment, I took a three-day R&R at Vung Tau—a little beach resort where rumor had it that the Viet Cong also spent their downtime. Playing soccer on the beach, I broke my toe. With a week left of my tour, the doctor suggested that I “put it in a tight shoe and go home.”
When I left Vietnam, the military was downsizing and the Air Force let me go with three months left on my four-year enlistment. Back on U.S. soil, I went to the men’s room in the airport and changed into my civilian clothes, ready to head home and start college on the GI Bill.
When people ask me if I ever had an overseas tour during my time in the Air Force, I always say, “I had two—Texas and Vietnam!”
Dan Smith served as a sergeant and was in-country May 1968-May 1969. He is the former art director of Military History magazine, a sister publication of Vietnam.
Originally published in the October 2014 issue of Vietnam. To subscribe, click here.
