Heroes Grove Honors Local Veterans

For those of us who grew up in Kaisertown, Houghton Park holds some great memories.  It was always a place that we would meet up with friends and just be teenagers, participate in sports, and even school events, but mostly we enjoyed the outdoors at this beautiful

neighborhood park.

We also remember the WWII Monument that was the parks focal point.  As kids, we sat on it, played on it, but the real reason behind it wouldn’t sink in until later in our lives, when so many of those same teenagers were called to war themselves.  That’s when this monument became a memorial in our hearts.

In 1988, the stone monument was moved with great care to a more prestigious place at the front of Houghton Park.  Since then,  some of Kaisertown’s very own Veterans and Friends have been caring for the grounds around it, and have made it what it is today, ‘Heroes Grove’.  Additional monuments have been added over the years, Pearl Harbor, Korea, Vietnam, and even 9/11...trees, flowers, shrubs, and even benches have been added, and behind the monument itself proudly stands a flag pole with the ‘American Flag’ and the ‘MIA’ flag waving in the wind.  Plans are in the works for the addition of an Iraq-Afghanistan monument in the near future.

We have these Veteran’s, friends, and a local politician, Richard Fontana, to thank for keeping this Monument and the Grove that surrounds it in such beautiful condition.    Heroes Grove is in

appreciation to all of our veterans who have kept us safe throughout the years.  It is a reminder, that without these young men and women, some of whom have made the ultimate sacrifice, our way of life would disappear.

Heroes Grove

Dan: A Real Adventure

And then there was a Marine by the name of Jim ‘Fergie’ Folger.  For as long as I knew Jim, we were mostly always drunk at Wiechec’s bar.  One Friday night we were all getting pretty buzzed as usual, someone got an idea to go to ‘Franks Casanova’, it used to be a strip joint. That evening, the entertainment was an all female impersonators show.  We all loaded the cars and went on a adventure.  

As we sat by the bar and had a few drinks, the show started in the back room.  Jim kept looking at the dancers, the big thing was, he didn't know that they were all male. We didn't say a word to him.  After the show the dancers would come to the bar and mingle with the customers.  Jim picked out one, and bought him/her a drink, and then a few more. He thought it was a sure thing for the night.  As he sat there next to me, I watched as his hand went around the dancers waist, and squeezed his ass. . .the guy looked at Jim, and said “IF YOU DO THAT AGAIN, I'll BREAK YOUR FUCKING ARM!”. . . Jim leaned over to me and said, “hey Derf, mine has a deep voice”.  We laughed all the way back to Wiechec’s.

 

Many a time we had to carry Jim home, being so drunk.  He's gone now, and its ironic, the Greek (John Nichols) and I carried him to his final resting spot.  He’s been gone about eight years now, but we can still remember all the good times we had with Jim, WE ALL MISS YOU "BUD" !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ralph: the Lighter

I’ll tell the story only once. . .

It was March or April of 1967, I was on an ambush outside of Phu Bai when we got in a firefight deep in the jungle, luckily we had no wounded. 

Later that day, I noticed that I had lost my lighter.

In June, I was in Kha Shan when I ran into a guy named Ledbedder, whom I hadn’t seen since boot camp.  He said that he remembered me and the first thing he asked was if I had lost a lighter. . .I told him that I did.  Next thing you know, he hands me my lighter.  “Where the hell did you find it?”, I asked.  He said that he was out on patrol when they ran into a North Vietnamese squadron, and after a firefight in the bush, he pulled it out of the pocket of one of the dead Viet Cong. 

That's it. . . nothing more to say, you don’t want to know the rest of the STORY.

Dan: My tour in Vietnam, and my 28 day ship cruise on the USS Whiegel

Why I didn't go on a plane like everyone else, I'll never know. Before I left for Oakland, California, my Mother always said "maybe tomorrow it will be better", we'll see.

We got to the ship yard, and there it was, a troop carrier from WWII... You’ve got to be freekin kidding me!! .Being the first unit there, the Navy guys put us in the bottom of this thing, so, there we were, six stories down. In about two days the ship was full and we were on our way. Then it started. . . .my first breakfast, the food was great, the eggs were a beautiful shade of green (powdered eggs}, burnt bacon, and God only knows what the other stuff was, it looked like wall paper paste!!!!!! So much for chow. . . how about a nice hot shower, sounded pretty good. No one told us that the water was salt water, needless to say, the soap only turned to paste, and we needed to scrape the crap off. In a little while we found out that the fresh water shower was right across the hall.

It was a very boring cruise. The only exciting thing that happened was the propeller fell off. There we were, in the middle of the freak 'n ocean, waiting for another ship to bring us parts so that we could be on our way. Maybe tomorrow it will be better!

After 28 days, it felt great to see land. There we were, in Vung Tau South Vietnam. The water was muddy, and air smelled like our feet, NASTY!!!!!!!!!!!!!! In a few hours we came ashore and for a few minutes I wished that I was back in Kaisertown, at Wiechec's, with a cold beer! They put us on a truck convoy, and took us to a place called Thu Duc. This was to be our base camp for our tour of duty.  As we looked around, there was nothing, no trees, no grass, nothing! Later on we found out that the Air Force dumped some stuff to kill all of the green vegetation, and that it did. . .everything was brown. In a few hours the engineers came in and put up a bunch of tents. " Maybe tomorrow things will be better". HOME SWEET HOME!

A few days went by, everything was pretty quiet. Then I heard a loud explosion, the ammo dump was hit by small arms fire, in a few seconds I looked up, and there was a small mushroom cloud in the sky.  We started to scramble for cover, till it blew over. The next thing I heard was the old man (first sergeant) telling me to get my team together for a patrol. This would be the first time to do something like this in country. After the first half hour on patrol all the training started to come back and we were all scared shitless. We received small arms fire, didn't know where it came from, just sat back and waited for daylight. We returned to the base camp and this ended our first day in country.

MAYBE TOMORROW IT WILL BE BETTER, but for 385 days it NEVER did.

Along the way we had some good times, many got drunk, just to keep your head together. I had a few Vietnamese friends, one little girl, her name was Lan, cutest six year old you ever saw. Gave her many C_rats {army ration food}. I think that I found a special friend for life, and who knows maybe after too.

Dan

A Note from Harpo:

AH,Kaisertown !!!

I miss it, and I miss my Kaisertown/Wiechec’s friends. When you grow up in a neighborhood like Kaisertown you make a lot of good friends that you can never forget. Just because I’m not there doesn’t mean I don’t think of you “Knot heads“. . . . you hold some of my fondest memories! We have a bond that I will always treasure.  YOU helped me grow up (now my wife may debate whether I’m there or not).

By ‘YOU’ I mean:

Frankie and “T”(Tom); “Sitt/Eric” (Bobby); “Chops“ (Larry):; “Audy Lommer or Rotten Ralph” (Ralph); “Booby”(Bob G.); “Kance” (Jerry); “Boggie” (Mike) and Timmy; “Ollie” (Larry) and “Charlie“; “Nasty” (Jack) “Linky/Pete“; “Peewee” (Paul); “Red” (John); “Fergie “ (Jimmy); “Nick/ Greek“ (Johnny); “Mouse” (Norm); “Latrobe” (Larry); “Chooch/ Kar“ (Dave); “Derf” (Dan);

“the Beast“ (Chet); and many more.

When I’m out at a bar in Montana, I always say to myself “here’s to YOU knot heads“, and that’s no shit, I’ve done it ever since I left for the service . I can remember having beers in Nam doing the same thing but always adding “good luck”.

Thank YOU fellow “knot heads” I hope this note finds all of you well! I’m waiting for more stories on this blog from you lads. Support the blog it’s now part of US.

Take care friends,

Harpo

Mark: Phil Everly at Lost Lake or How I met Danny D.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was a time for adventure and exploration. Life was good. I believe I and my friend, Jerry Stahura were in sixth grade, Mrs.Ganon’s (“Mrs. Grenade”) class at PS69. Mrs. Grenade got her knick name for every time she left her desk to walk up and down the isles she would drop a grenade. The smell would choke a dog.

We were at the ripe age of around 11. Jerry, at that time, was my favorite exploration partner. We were kind of a Kaisertown, Lewis and Clark. The year before on one of our adventures exploring along Buffalo creek, Jerry saved my life when I fell into the creek. That’s another story.
One Saturday in late spring we were exploring on the ”other” side of the creek over the South Ogden bridge. We happened on Lost Pond. Jerry and I thought we discovered an unknown lake until we found a crude made raft. Little did we know the savagery we were going to be subjected to from the savages that built the raft.  We took it for a ride doing what 11 year olds do, catching frogs, looking for turtles, exploring the newly found “great lake”. Then I heard Jerry say “oh, oh“, that’s when I knew we were in trouble again. The natives were coming! There were two of them. I looked and the first one I saw looked like one of the “Everly Brothers”. What was an Everly Brother doing at Lost Pond with a BB gun? It was probably the famous lever action Red Rider. I would soon find out. I heard the deadly report of a high powered air gun, then Jerry screamed ouch! Then another shot rang out and I felt the BB hit my back and I screamed ouch! I was being fired at by an expert rifleman who was to become a paratrooper. Also, little did I know that I would be doing the same thing in the future but in the Mekong Delta. I was hit again in the back of my leg and heard Jerry yell again. Finally Jerry yelled lets get out of here and we both jumped in to get away. When we were trying to dry out our cloths by the dump fires behind Houghton park, I asked Jerry “who were those assholes, especially the one who looked like Phil Everly (nice hair do)?” He said you don’t know Dan Derfert? I replied, “I do now“. That was the first time I met my future friend, Danny.

Jerry: Greetings from Home

River Cruise. . .

Mark: 362 days to go. . .

I was sent to Cat Lo, Vietnam in the fall of 1969 as a Gunner’s Mate attached to US Coast Guard Squadron One. My first day I arrived I was told I would be flying out the next morning so I got on the bus to go to temporary quarters for the night. On the bus I was greeted by calls of ‘what are you doing here Coastie”. The next morning I was put on a C123 to Vung Tau then driven another 30 miles up river to Cat Lo, a Navy Swift boat base. I reported in to HQ and was assigned a boat and by about 3 in the afternoon I was walking aboard my boat when the Gunner’s Mate I was relieving walked off and said “good luck”. The “skipper” (CO) welcomed me then told me we were leaving at eleven that evening for a SEALORD Operation. Since I was responsible for the weapons on the boat, (5 - 50cal.,MG; 1- 81mm mortar; 2- M60’s and misc. small arms). Needless to say I was puckered up pretty tight. The Skipper put me on the helm as we were leaving, he wanted to talk to me on what I should expect. I couldn’t have slept if I wanted to. We rendezvoused with the two other boats around 7 am. We were going up a canal off the Co Chien river on a “maximum destruction raid” where anything was fair game. The Skipper put me on the roof with a M79 and told me to watch for bunkers and “willie -pete” any hootches. I was sweating bullets, this was my third day in country, I’m the FNG, trying to learn the ropes. I was given a flack jacket and helmet and was told by some of the crew “relax“; “you should see your face“; “good luck“. I didn’t know all they’re names, I was spooked! The rpm’s of the engines kicked in with the Skipper saying ‘here we go“.

About 200 yards up the canal the boats started to recon by fire. I fired several rounds to relieve the tension. The canal was small enough that we couldn’t turn around, we were supposed to go through the canals and comeback out into the river. About a mile up the canal, the lead boat started picking up small arms fire. Being on the roof I could see the lead boat. I saw a geyser ahead of the lead boat then I heard the report, then another one, then I heard the lead boat on the radio saying he’s receiving mortar fire and that they had the canal registered. Then I seen this cloud of smoke off to the side of the middle boat, my first B-40 (RPG) and it’s only day 3 only 362 to go. Things were getting intense, I could hear all the radio traffic. We started to receive automatic weapons fire. Then the first boat started to tell all boats to turn around. The Skipper turned the boat hard and ran the bow on the bank and pivoted the boat around, I was scared but impressed, I would learn this maneuver over time. Once we were turned around I was glad to hear the sound of increased rpm’s from the engines. Then a B-40 went high over us and the auto fire picked up. I went through all the M79 rounds I had, I climbed off the roof and started shuffling .50 cal ammo to the guns. We were out of the canal and things settled down. I was in aw. The skipper said ’welcome to SEALORDS”, he said that was the second or third time the boats been chased out of there. He said we were suppose to have overhead air support but they were called away. Some of the crew came over and gave me a pat on the shoulder for taking the initiative for getting them ammo without being told, made me feel better. The chief engineman said “hey guns, only 362 to go“. That was a long day! The Skipper said to me “day 3 and a combat action ribbon, that was quick”.

Bogie: the Black Flag

I complain about the heat here in Tennessee, but I can handle it.

I remember a funny boot camp story. The DI (Drill Instructor) told us that when the black flag goes up on the parade deck, the temperature was over 95 and that we would not have any PT (physical training) or running out side, so we were all praying to see that black flag fly. . .Well, the DI's didn't lie, we didn't have PT or run outside. . . they ran us in the squad bay where it was about 130 degrees! Now we were praying NOT to see the black flag again, but we did see it, 2 more times.

Right now, the flag temperature stands at 90 here. . . Oh, changing times. . . Pussies! 

Jerry: Lost Power

One early morning in April 1969, my NCO in charge asked if I would like to take a flight in a C-47 (the 12th TAC wings ‘Sandblower Airlines’ as it was called) to drop off and pick up supplies at Phu Cat Air Base. I said, “sure, it would be nice to see some of the Viet Nam country side”. We left at 7 am and  would return around 8pm the same day. It certainly was a beautiful day for flying and we did get to see the country side.

The pilot pointed out to us a few things that we passed over in our flight. . .some blown out roads and a bridge that was just taken out by some F-4 fighter jets, I really don't know if the F-4’s were from one of our squadrons or not, but they surely did what their intentions were, to make traveling for the Viet cong a little more difficult to say the least.

There were only 6 airmen on this flight including myself, the pilot, and co-pilot. . .and we were served box lunches.  The flight went well and we dropped of the supplies we needed to and picked some other items for our return flight.

The return flight to Cam Ranh Bay was just before dusk. Everything seemed to be going well until we were making our approach to land. At that point I noticed fire trucks on the tarmac with their emergency lights on.  As we landed, they were following us down the runway. I'm thinking that something must be going on if they have all these emergency vehicles ready. . .could this greeting be for us???  After landing, I found out that one of our engines wasn't working and the greeting on the fight line was indeed for us.

I never really found out what happen to the engine, just kind of glad the pilot had enough experience to fly, and land the aircraft safely the way he did. I was happy and relieved to make it back to base camp, especially after knowing that we were flying with only 50% of what it took to fly a C-47.

All in all I did get to see Viet Nam from a birds eye view. 

Jerry: Night Attack

While in Vietnam, I was stationed at Cam Ranh Bay, a huge, secure, Air Force Base that had all the amenities for comfort, and while there, it felt very safe.

But on August 7th of 1969, at approximately midnight, while most on base were sound asleep, myself included, a team of Viet Cong sappers (military demolition experts), infiltrated the north side of this high security base, with the help of some North Vietnamese sympathizers that were employed (locals were trucked in everyday,the first thing that they did each morning was check the garbage cans) within the perimeter of Cam Ranh Bay.

When the alarms went off, everyone knew that something was going on.  The sky was lit with flares, which would light up the entire base, and you could hear explosions. . .tracers could be seen in the air.  The base had been attacked before, but by mortars that hadn’t hit their mark, but it was nothing like this.

While inside the base, the VC tossed explosives into the base hospital, opened fire with machine guns, and were able to destroy several other buildings, and after accomplishing their mission, left the way they came without a single casualty.

We had 3 squadrons of F-4 on our base and other aircraft as well.  These planes were involved in numerous missions over North & South Vietnam with heavy damage tolls.  This certainly was a thorn in the enemies side and whatever damage that they could accomplish in that attack would be a score for the North Vietnamese. 

We later found out that 2 Americans G.I.’s were killed, 98 wounded, and severe damage was done to 19 buildings. The enemy seemed to be telling the United States that as secure as you may think you are, we can and will infiltrate. This attack was an eye opener for the United States, and for all of us who were stationed there who had became lax in our security thoughts.

Back home, Carole had heard about the attack on the news and tried in vain to call the base, but she only got as far as Saigon, how she did that, I have no idea.  I don’t think that she remembers either.

Pete: Monsoon

This is one of the many memories of my Viet Nam War experiences. It was the monsoon season early in 1967, it's been raining for 57 days, at least it certainly seemed that long. This had me thinking back to a comment that my Dad (Dad was a Navy, WWII Vet), said to me after learning I enlisted in the Marine Corps. "Peter", he said, "the Marines are never guaranteed a roof over their heads, or 3 square meals a day. In the Navy, you can count on it, but the Marines, well, they certainly can have different housing arrangements all together".

This brings me to my story. . .Our squad team, named "BREAKER", consisted of the team leader (who’s name escapes me right now); a demolition man, Jesus Rodriguez; an expert rifleman, Jimmy Lane; a compass man, Ron Niles; along with Cpl. Kenny LeCastri, an expert in multiple weaponry, and of course myself. These Marine's were and still are the heroes of my life, the bravest men I have ever known for what we lived through in our daily lives in Viet Nam. Getting back to the monsoons, it was a hot, rainy, dark night, we couldn't see our hands in front of our faces. We all decided to dig in for the night in an area with banana trees for some cover, which really didn't give us much at all, but we thought it might. As it goes we made a circle sitting back to back with a couple of poncho's over us. We tried to stay dry as much as we could in our make shift shelter, but every time someone would move, the rain that accumulated on the poncho's came gushing in and got us drenched before the one of many evenings ended.  During that time and under those conditions for so many nights, made me think of what my Dad said to me about comparing the Marines with the Navy, which gave them at least a roof over their heads and 3 square meals a day, comparing that to the shit hole we were in that night. When does a son ever listen to Dad's experiences, one has to live through their own lives before we learn.

We Remember. . .

Paul Evans

LCPL. United States Marine Corp.

Vietnam Casualty

Robert Polniak

Capt. United States Army

Vietnam Casualty

Robert May

SP4 United States Army

Vietnam Casualty

Timothy Bogdan

United States Army Service, Vietnam

David Loncz

United States Army Service, Vietnam

Jerry: Mischief. . .

One Saturday afternoon in 1957, when I was 10 years old and living on Kelburn Street, I was upstairs in our attic gym.  I happened to hear something outside so I looked out the window.  There in front of our house was a squad car. . .right then I was glued to the window.  Then I saw a cop bring my brother, Tom, to the back door…..’Oh MAN...this is going to be good!’, I thought.

I hurried down the stairs because I just had to see what was going on, I don’t even know if they saw me. The cop was in our back hallway with Tommy and my Mom. He told my Mother that they caught Tommy and a couple of his friends, Gary Mruk, who had already been dropped off at his house, and Ray Motyka, who was still in the squad car with the other cop, at the construction site where the Thruway was being built. . .they were on the heavy equipment. ‘Holy  Cow...how cool is this!!’, I thought.  He told my Mom that it was off limits and they didn’t want to see anyone get hurt.

My Mom noticed that the officer’s pants were all muddy, and like my Mom, she offered to wash them . . .can you just see it...Tommy standing in our kitchen, scared shitless and wanting this to end. . .the cop sitting at the kitchen table without pants. . .my Mother washing them. . .and you know my Mom would have made him a sandwich!!!!  That’s all that I kept thinking about was that this was so good, no one would believe it!! 

Finally, the cop left with a word of warning, and my Mom promising not to let them go there again. . . ‘yeah, right’.  This entire thing didn’t phase my Mom at all...she knew that boys would be boys...she was more concerned that the officer go home nice and clean.

I looked at my brother, Tommy...gave him a wry little smile and said. . .’wait ‘till Pa comes home!’.