eWebTech: Chird Bobbitt Copyright © 1997-2xxx All Rights Reserved

                                            A Man Called

Rev. Wes Keith

From "Victories" Stories of Christian Vietnam Veterans
by Wes Keith 1995

       My dog tags had "Baptist" stamped on them under the heading of religion. However, that didn't give me much comfort as far as peace of mind was concerned. My father was a Baptist minister and going to church was just part of our life style. It wasn't something that you thought about, you just went. My problem was that I had enough religion to make me miserable. In a few days, I would be entering into combat for the first time.
       In was June 1969. For Americans, the war in Vietnam had been dragging on for five years and we were no closer to victory or peace than we were in the beginning. President Richard M. Nixon had been elected based upon his promise to bring an honorable victory to the conflict. Although the "Tet Offensive" of 1968 had been a military disaster for the Viet Cong in South Vietnam, it proved that the cities throughout the nation were vulnerable to communist attacks. Our nation's confidence that the war could be won on the battle field had been terribly shaken.
       I was born in the Los Angeles County California suburb of Maywood, on September 20, 1944. I was the third and final child of my parents. They had moved to California shortly before my birth to find work in the war industry. The boll weevil had destroyed their cotton fields and their dreams of raising their family in rural Arkansas. Following the war, the family moved into the rich agricultural regions of the San Joaquin Valley of California. There we lived in various rural areas near such places as Madera, Chowchilla, and Modesto. Finally in 1959, we settled in northern California in a place called Napa Valley. What our family lacked as far as financial riches was made up for in love. We are still a close knit family.
       Being raised in rural California meant that you learned to do a variety of farm labor job. While my father spent many years working on cattle ranches and dairy farms, I earned money doing such things as cutting cotton, picking cotton, picking grapes, rolling raisins, picking peaches and other fruits. One of my favorite jobs was working in the watermelon fields. When you were hot and thirsty, you could bust open a cold ripe melon and eat only the rich sweet heart of it. For recreation, there was always the opportunity to go swimming in one of the many water canals that crossed the San Joaquin Valley. I'll never forget as a four year old jumping into a canal and almost drowning. I was going down for the third time when my father rescued me.
       Education was important to my parents. My mother would tell us about how she and Dad never had a chance to go to school past elementary school. Therefore, they wanted more than anything else that we children got a good education. I was fortunate to have some pretty good skills in sports, and often that was what kept me in school. I played baseball and football in high school and college with a fair degree of success.
      However, the dream of my life was to become a Marine Corps pilot. This was fueled by reading the book, Baa Baa Black Sheep, by Major Greg "Pappy" Boyington.
      After graduating from college at San Francisco State University in June 1966, I entered active duty in August 1966 at the Marine Officer Candidate School in Quantico, Virginia. There is a book of materials about my experiences there, but we'll save that for another day. On October 31, 1966, I married my former college sweetheart, Katie Spaulding. Then it was off to flight school in Pensacola, Florida. Because of a non-flight accident, it was not until November 1968 that I finished flight school. From there I was sent to Camp Pendleton at Oceanside, California, to join Marine Light Helicopter Squadron 267. There I learned to fly the UH-1 E. This was just one the models of the famous Huey helicopter produced by Bell Aircraft Corporation.
      In April 1969 , I was selected to be part of the first contingent of Marine pilots to qualify in the AH-1 G Cobra gunship. This was a new helicopter for the Marines, and the Marines were just beginning to form up a squadron of them in Vietnam. The Army had been using the AH-1G since 1967. The Cobra had a narrow fuselage of only thirty-six inches. It was designed for one reason only, and that was to be a gun platform.
Under the nose and beneath the co-pilot/gunner, was located a gun turret. On the right side of the turret, was a six barreled mini-gun that fired 7.62 mm rounds with the capacity to fire four thousand rounds. On the left side was an automatic 40 mm grenade launcher that held about two hundred and twenty rounds. On each side of the helicopter was a small stub wing that had two hard places to attach rocket pods. The outer pods held seven white phosphorus rockets each. The inner pods held nineteen high explosive rockets each. We could and did mix our loads, but this was the standard load we carried.
An event that sticks out in my mind during this period was that my best friend, 1/Lt Michael Nickerson was killed. I had to meet his body at Treasure Island Naval Facility in San Francisco and escort it home for burial in the San Diego National Cemetery . My wife and I were very close to Mike and his wife, Jean. Katie and I were visiting with her parents when we received the call from Jean that Mike was killed. I felt so helpless in trying to comfort Jean. I remember crying for the first time in years. Mike was good people! I named my only son after him. Twelve days after Katie gave birth to our second child, I was off from Travis Air Force Base headed to Vietnam.
My first squadron was VMO-2 at Marble Mountain Marine Air Facility just south of Da Nang. It was from here we were to fly support for our troops in the northern part of South Vietnam called "I Corp" . At that time VMO-2 had a mixed package of aircraft. We had the first AH-1G's (Cobra gunships) that the Marine Corps owned and the OV-l0 Broncos (the then new twin -engine observation airplane) . It was already Cobra qualified prior to my arrival, so I was extremely happy to know that I would get to fly them in combat.
One of my first observations was that the enemy we were facing was not some "rag tag" group of peasants. The North Vietnamese soldiers were highly trained and equipped with the newest and best weapons being produced by the Communist bloc nations.
For all intents and purposes, they had completely replaced the Viet Cong (the communists in South Vietnam).
My nickname and call sign was "Fluff". It had first been put on me by my flight instructor at "Cobra Hall" at Hunter Army Air Field in Savannah, Georgia.
He said that it stood for "funny little ugly fat fellow".
He was a great guy and excellent flight instructor. I learned much from him about combat tactics using the Cobra. In Vietnam the nickname stuck with me. I was determined that when anyone heard that "Fluff" was on station, he could rest assured knowing that he was getting the best gunship coverage possible.
The reality of life is that no matter how good you are, or how hard you try, there are going to be circumstances beyond your control. I'll never forget the day I saw my first helicopter shot down. I was flying copilot/gunner in a Cobra assigned to cover a CH-46 on a medivac mission. Just minutes before the fatal mission, the crews from both aircraft had been sitting together, poking fun at each other. The pilot in command of the CH-46 was l/Lt John Armenio. Although not scheduled to fly, he had volunteered for this mission because his squadron had been short of qualified pilots. With less than a week to go before his thirteen month tour of duty would have been completed, he had been taken off the flight schedule. The landing zone was supposed to be secured, however it had many enemy anti-aircraft guns concealed on its perimeter. As the CH-46 left the LZ, numerous guns opened fire on it. The fire from my mini-gun was too little , too late . The CH -46 fell from the sky inverted, killing all eleven men aboard.
As time went on, my soul became disturbed because I had no inner peace. I started talking to the chaplains about these feelings, but still I didn't find relief. I took religious training courses from both the Protestant and Catholic Chaplains searching for some answers. I read the Bible faithfully, but I really didn't understand what it was saying. I knew that some of the guys seemed to have a special peace about them and I wanted that for my life.
I remember the events leading to my decision to accept Jesus Christ as my personal Savior. It was in September 1969, and I had been assigned as part of the night medivac package. The package composed of two AH-1G's and two CH-46's. The whole area surrounding Da Nang was covered with a cloud layer ranging anywhere from fifty to two hundred foot ceiling. We were just hoping that we didn't get called out that night.
l/Lt Doug Simmons and I were assigned to fly wingman for l/Lt Kenny Pennington and his co-pilot, l/Lt John Reed. About 7:00 p.m., we received a request for an emergency medivac extraction from a ground unit about twenty miles to our south. The unit reported that the cloud layer was breaking up at their position and thought that we could reach their position okay. Being somewhat cautious, Kenny instructed the rest of the flight to wait for him on the ground until he checked out the weather for himself. The last report we received from him was that he was turning back toward Marble Mountain. The weather was rapidly closing in on him and he was having difficulty maintaining visual contact with the ground.
Soon, we heard that aground unit reported hearing a helicopter and then seeing a flash of an explosion. This was near a mountainous area called "Charlie Ridge". Doug and Immediately took off to see if we could find the crash site . We spent more than eight flight hours vainly searching for the missing crew.
Our squadron commander finally ordered us to return to Marble Mountain. By then the weather had cleared somewhat, and we had other aircraft searching for the crash site .
It was daybreak before I finally made my way back toward our living quarters. I was physically and mentally exhausted. Still I couldn't help but appreciate the beauty as the sun peaked its way over Monkey Mountain. As I walked down the road, I was met by a friend from one of the CH-46 squadrons. Unashamedly, he ran up to me, dropped his flight helmet bag, and gave me a big hug. With tears glistening in his eyes, he said, "Fluffer, they said you were killed last night." Two days later, when still full of grief and doubt over the lost lives of my friends, I dropped to my knees in prayer to God. I remember in agony praying, "lord, I have heard of you all my life, but still I do not know you. Jesus, I trust you as my Savior. Please show me that I belong to you." At that time I felt a miraculous feeling as all my guilt and doubt were removed. I felt an assurance that no matter what happened I belonged to Jesus. I had become a "child of God" . I finally received that peace that goes beyond all understanding.
Soon after this experience, I was baptized in the South China Sea. Months later early one morning, I was to share my experience with a young lance corporal who had a severe drug abuse problem. That evening, he came to my hootch asking if I would pray for him and tell him more about Jesus. As God's Spirit worked on him, he said, "I need Jesus in my life too." After I prayed, he immediately fell to his knees in prayer. As he confessed his sins, he asked Jesus to come into his life.
Even his facial expressions changed as he got up from prayer. There was a sense of peace and serenity about him. He told me that he knew that he was saved because he felt the power of God come into his life. The change in his life was awesome. The desire for drugs left his life, and he became a witness of God's love. This was the first time that I knew for sure that God used me to help lead someone to a saving knowledge of His Son.
After returning from Vietnam, I was stationed at Helicopter Training Squadron eight at Pensacola, Florida.
While there, I joined Faith Baptist Church and committed my life to God's service. My wife, who had been raised Catholic, likewise joined this church. God had been working on her also during the time I was in Vietnam and she had committed her life to Him about the same time I did. I decided to get out of the Marine Corps because of my desire to not be separated again from my family. Had I stayed in, I would have had to go back to Vietnam. I was admitted to the University of Arkansas Law School, so in February 1972 we packed up and headed to Fayetteville.
Shortly, after reaching Fayetteville, I felt a distinct call of God for me to enter the ministry . I said this surely must be just fear on my part of the educational challenge of law school. I thought this had to be just my imagination as I had "blood" on my hands. I knew I had taken others lives, even if it had been in combat.
Although my heart was not that of a murderer, I felt this must be a mistake on my part about the calling of God in my life. There began one of the most miserable periods of my life. Without going into all the details, I started having flashbacks, anxiety attacks, and other problems. I couldn't understand what was happening to me, nor was there anyone to give me any help. My emotional stability was at a breaking point. After one year, I decided I better get myself together or the selfimposed stress and anxiety would kill me .
It was not until 1979 that I found relief from the problems I was suffering. It was then I told the Lord that I would do anything He showed me. I just wanted the joy of my salvation restored. At that time I was working, but still taking about 100 mg of Valium a day to survive. My drug problem started innocently enough by taking a prescription from my doctor. It was then I realized that I had never relieved myself of all the stored up grief that I had felt for all my friends and comrades who died in Vietnam. These were people I cared a great deal about but they were gone and I hurt because of their passing. The hardest thing to cope with was the wasted death of so many wonderful young men! When I committed myself to Christian service, the Valium problem stopped.
In 1982 I was ordained a minister of the Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ in a Southern Baptist Church.
By 1987, I saw a need that was not being filled. I began to be aware of all the suicides and wasted lives of so many Vietnam Veterans. With hundreds of thousands veterans suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, the V A wasn't giving them the help they needed. With that in mind, I formed the Vietnam Veterans For Christ Ministries.
I started mailing out a quarterly newsletter of encouragement and promoting the needs of the veteran community in local churches. Although I have been holding down a full time secular job since leaving law school, my first love is in the ministry . I still speak in churches throughout Arkansas and other states. Besides, I reserve several times a year to speak at one of the Arkansas Department of Correction facilities. More than anything else, I try to promote Jesus. Without Him, I am nothing. The effort to reach others for Jesus has not been in vain. I am encouraged and thankful for each person that I know I have influenced to know Jesus as their personal Savior .
My uttermost desire is to reach as many people as I can with the Good News of Jesus Christ. For those who respond positively to this news, there is life everlasting. My prayer to you is that if you do not know Jesus as your personal Savior, that you will make that decision to trust in Him now. If you are saved, but not a totally committed Christian, may you repent of your ways and serve Christ fully. Why receive only part of the blessings of being a fully committed Christian? May God bless you!