CHERRIESWRITER – VIETNAM WAR WEBSITE
Robert B. Robeson
November 22, 2016
“…On August 20, 1969, I was a U.S. Army captain assigned to the 236th Medical Detachment (Helicopter Ambulance) in Da Nang, South Vietnam, as operations officer and a medical evacuation pilot. Our mission entailed evacuating wounded and dead Americans, South Korean, South Vietnamese, Australian allies, Vietnamese civilians and often enemy soldiers to aid stations and hospitals in our 5,000-square-mile operational area.
From August 20-22, I had assigned myself as copilot to a field-site crew of four at Landing Zone (LZ) Baldy, approximately 25 miles south of Da Nang. Warrant Officer 1 William A. (Wild Bill) Statt was the aircraft commander, SP5 John N. Seebeth was our medic and SP5 Paul L. Sumrall was the crew chief. I’d barely been in Vietnam a month and in our unit for two weeks as a rookie pilot.
What we weren’t aware of was that we were about to be shoved into the middle of a major battle involving four regiments of the U.S. Army’s 196th Light Infantry Brigade, two battalions of the U.S. 7th Marines and batteries of the U.S. 82nd Artillery that provided fire support from four firebases. These Americans were facing 1,500 Communist troops.*
In those 2½ days of devastating action, our crew evacuated 150 wounded Americans from the Que Son Valley on 42 missions, 15 of which were “insecure”. This meant that our ground troops couldn’t guarantee the safety of the LZ because the enemy was in contact and too close, or friendlies were low on ammunition and couldn’t provide appropriate covering fire. On a majority of these insecure missions, helicopter gunships were unavailable to cover our unarmed aircraft because there was too much action requiring their services in other parts of this battleground. So our only alternative was to take our chances and go in alone because most of the wounded wouldn’t have survived if we’d have waited for gunships to arrive.
During late morning of August 21st, our UH-1H (Huey) was shot up by enemy AK-47 rifle fire while exiting another insecure LZ. One of our three patients was wounded for the second time. A burst of enemy fire ripped into a can of oil our crew chief kept under my armored seat, spraying this liquid over my Nomex, fire-retardant flight pants. Another round locked me in my shoulder harness when it clipped a wire on the unlocking device attached to the left side of my seat. After depositing our patients at the battalion aid station at LZ Baldy, a replacement bird and a different crew chief were flown down from Phu Bai (a medevac unit north of Da Nang) for our use.
Less than 24 hours later (August 22nd), we were shot up for the second time on another insecure mission. This one involved evacuating an African-American infantry staff sergeant who’d been shot in the back. Seebeth was wounded in the throat as we made our hot-and-hairy tactical approach into the LZ. An AK-47 round tore out his larynx before we’d even landed. As we exited the LZ with our original patient, who’d been literally thrown aboard by two of his comrades under heavy enemy fire, two of our three radios were also shot out.
In the aid station at LZ Baldy, Seebeth kept mouthing the words I can’t breathe as he kicked his legs in frustration. I held his legs and attempted to calm him while Captain George Waters, M.D., performed a tracheotomy without anesthesia. The wound had swollen so fast that it was cutting off his oxygen. Time couldn’t be wasted being concerned about alleviating his pain. Doc Waters immediately initiated an incision. Mercifully, Seebeth quickly lapsed from shock into unconsciousness.
John survived, but has endured twelve follow-up operations since then…one of which gave him back a voice. But it’s not the same voice we’d known and grown to love as he provided emergency medical care to thousands of his patients. Today it’s produced by a plastic Montgomery T-tube that’s inserted into his tracheotomy opening. When he wants to talk, he must plug an opening on one end with a finger to force air through his mouth…”

