Pics2-94Vets 2-94Vets41-60 2-94Vets61-80 2-94Vets81-100
2-94Vets101-120 2-94Vets121-140 2-94Vets141-160 2-94Vets 161-180 2-94Vets181-200
2/94 BLOG Chronological "Diary" of Events
21) Chris Cunningham
8/4th Aug 71-Oct 71 2/94th
Oct 71 - Feb 72
CA_Cunningham@Bigfoot.Com
I don't remember the battery number. I was on FSB Bastone when we were attached to the 101.
22) Stanley Duitman
Pics
C Btry. 2/ 94 Nov. 69-Apr. 70
23) James D. O'Hara
ABtry 94th Arty Gun # Four
March1970--- May 1971
fpsgymbo@aol.com
Would like to hear from other gun grunts in A Btry. that were in Nam at the same time.
24) Thomas Miller
Tom's Pics
SVC Battery 2nd 94th Artillery
2/69 thru 5/70
thomaasjmiller@att.net
Humped Ammo out of Dong Ha for most of Tour Also in Camp Eagle for a few months
Looking for
Hemmelgarn, Llewellwn, Little and anyone else who was there God Bless You all
welcome home!
25) Herman Mellott
any one who served with my dad
6th -33rd - Arty 2/94th
jan 1968 to jan1969
mark_a_mellott@yahoo.com
My dad left ft sill in route to rvn with the 6/33 was in country from jan 1968 with the 6/33 until april 68 when he trans. to the 2/94th
please contact him at herman l. mellott 44826 st.rt. Beallsville, OH 43716
26) SFC Michael Gilmartin
A Btry/94th, HHS/1-39
FA (MLRS) Bn FDC Chief
12 May 00 to present
gilmartinm@clds.net
Hello fellow Redlegs. I am currently assigned to 1-39 FA. I am trying to collect as much history of the battalion as possible. The battalion activated on 14 June 00 as a part of the 3rd IN Div at Fort Stewart. I have access to unit crests for the 13th and 39th FA, as well as selected other FA units. Would be willing to e-mail any information I have to anyone wanting it. SPEED IN ACTION!
27) SSG James K. Elliott
B Btry 2/94
FA
1-71 to 1-72
James_Elliott@doh.state.fl.us
Was at Lao Bao, FSB Style on 3-18-71, know the nickname of the Gun incident in B Btry - "Farmer" - Please write
28) Charles E. Stephenson
Charles Pics
Hq Btry/2nd Bn 94th FA/Met
April 1971 - October 1971
cstephenson@mail.utexas.edu
I joined the battalion in the fieldthe early April in early April as it moved from the Laotian border toward the coast following
Operation Lam Son 719. My service with the 94th was as Met Officer. The Met Section was re-located to Hill 65, south of
Danang, in support of the 23d Inf shortly after I joined the battalion. The section rejoined the Headquarterts once it moved to Camp
Eagle. I served under the command of LTC Joseph Ganahl and of his successor LTC K. Leslie Kirk.
My Heart's Content
Thirty years of one man's truth are up for reconsideration
by Pat Conroy
The true things always ambush me on the road and take me by surprise when I am drifting down the light of placid days, careless about flanks and rearguard actions. I was not looking for a true thing to come upon me in the state of New Jersey. Nothing has ever happened to me in New Jersey. But come it did, and it came to stay.
In the past four years I have been interviewing my teammates on the 1966-67 basketball team at the Citadel for a book I'm writing. For the most part, this has been like buying back a part of my past that I had mislaid or shut out of my life. At first I thought I was writing about being young and frisky and able to run up and down a court all day long, but lately I realized I came to this book because I needed to come to grips with being middle-aged and having ripened into a gray-haired man you could not trust to handle the ball on a fast break. When I visited my old teammate Al Kroboth's house in New Jersey, I spent the first hours quizzing him about his memories of games and practices and the screams of coaches that had echoed in field houses more than 30 years before. Al had been a splendid forward-center for the Citadel; at 6 feet 5 inches and carrying 220 pounds, he played with indefatigable energy and enthusiasm. For most of his senior year, he led the nation in field-goal percentage, with UCLA center Lew Alcindor hot on his trail. Al was a battler and a brawler and a scrapper from the day he first stepped in as a Green Weenie as a sophomore to the day he graduated. After we talked basketball, we came to a subject I dreaded to bring up with Al, but which lay between us and would not lie still. "Al, you know I was a draft dodger and antiwar demonstrator." "That's what I heard, Conroy," Al said. "I have nothing against what you did, but I did what I thought was right." "Tell me about Vietnam, big Al. Tell me what happened to you," I said. On his seventh mission as a navigator in an A-6 for Major Leonard Robertson, Al was getting ready to deliver their payload when the fighter-bomber was hit by enemy fire. Though Al has no memory of it, he punched out somewhere in the middle of the ill-fated dive and lost consciousness. He doesn't know if he was unconscious for six hours or six days, nor does he know what happened to Major Robertson (whose name is engraved on the Wall in Washington and on the MIA bracelet Al wears). When Al awoke, he couldn't move. A Viet Cong soldier held an AK-47 to his head. His back and his neck were broken, and he had shattered his left scapula in the fall. When he was well enough to get to his feet (he still can't recall how much time had passed), two armed Viet Cong led Al from the jungles of South Vietnam to a prison in Hanoi. The journey took three months. Al Kroboth walked barefooted through the most impassable terrain in Vietnam, and he did it sometimes in the dead of night. He bathed when it rained, and he slept in bomb craters with his two Viet Cong captors. As they moved farther north, infections began to erupt on his body, and his legs were covered with leeches picked up while crossing the rice paddies. At the very time of Al's walk, I had a small role in organizing the only antiwar demonstration ever held in Beaufort, South Carolina, the home of Parris Island and the Marine Corps Air Station. In a Marine Corps town at that time, it was difficult to come up with a quorum of people who had even minor disagreements about the Vietnam War. But my small group managed to attract a crowd of about 150 to Beaufort's waterfront. With my mother and my wife on either side of me, we listened to the featured speaker, Dr. Howard Levy, suggest to the very few young enlisted Marines present that if they get sent to Vietnam, here's how they can help end this war: Roll a grenade under your officer's bunk when he's asleep in his tent. It's called fragging and is becoming more and more popular with the ground troops who know this war is bullshit. I was enraged by the suggestion. At that very moment my father, a Marine officer, was asleep in Vietnam. But in 1972, at the age of 27, I thought I was serving America's interests by pointing out what massive flaws and miscalculations and corruptions had led her to conduct a ground war in Southeast Asia. In the meantime, Al and his captors had finally arrived in the North, and the Viet Cong traded him to North Vietnamese soldiers for the final leg of the trip to Hanoi. Many times when they stopped to rest for the night, the local villagers tried to kill him. His captors wired his hands behind his back at night, so he trained himself to sleep in the center of huts when the villagers began sticking knives and bayonets into the thin walls. Following the U.S. air raids, old women would come into the huts to excrete on him and yank out hunks of his hair. After the nightmare journey of his walk north, Al was relieved when his guards finally delivered him to the POW camp in Hanoi and the cell door locked behind him. It was at the camp that Al began to die. He threw up every meal he ate and before long was misidentified as the oldest American soldier in the prison because his appearance was so gaunt and skeletal. But the extraordinary camaraderie among fellow prisoners that sprang up in all the POW camps caught fire in Al, and did so in time to save his life. When I was demonstrating in America against Nixon and the Christmas bombings in Hanoi, Al and his fellow prisoners were holding hands under the full fury of those bombings, singing "God Bless America." It was those bombs that convinced Hanoi they would do well to release the American POWs, including my college teammate. When he told me about theC-141 landing in Hanoi to pick up the prisoners, Al said he felt no emotion, none at all, until he saw the giant American flag painted on the plane's tail. I stopped writing as Al wept over the memory of that flag on that plane, on that morning, during that time in the life of America. It was that same long night, after listening to Al's story, that I began to make judgments about how I had conducted myself during the Vietnam War. In the darkness of the sleeping Kroboth household, lying in the third-floor guest bedroom, I began to assess my role as a citizen in the '60s, when my country called my name and I shot her the bird. Unlike the stupid boys who wrapped themselves in Viet Cong flags and burned the American one, I knew how to demonstrate against the war without flirting with treason or astonishingly bad taste. I had come directly from the warrior culture of this country and I knew how to act. But in the 25 years that have passed since South Vietnam fell, I have immersed myself in the study of totalitarianism during the unspeakable century we just left behind. I have questioned survivors of Auschwitz and Bergen-Belsen, talked to Italians who told me tales of the Nazi occupation, French partisans who had counted German tanks in the forests of Normandy, and officers who survived the Bataan Death March. I quiz journalists returning from wars in Bosnia, the Sudan, the Congo, Angola, Indonesia, Guatemala, San Salvador, Chile, Northern Ireland, Algeria. As I lay sleepless, I realized I'd done all this research to better understand my country. I now revere words like democracy, freedom, the right to vote, and the grandeur of the extraordinary vision of the founding fathers. Do I see America's flaws? Of course. But I now can honor her basic, incorruptible virtues, the ones that let me walk the streets screaming my ass off that my country had no idea what it was doing in South Vietnam. My country let me scream to my heart's content-the same country that produced both Al Kroboth and me. Now, at this moment in New Jersey, I come to a conclusion about my actions as a young man when Vietnam was a dirty word to me. I wish I'd led a platoon of Marines in Vietnam. I would like to think I would have trained my troops well and that the Viet Cong would have had their hands full if they entered a firefight with us. From the day of my birth, I was programmed to enter the Marine Corps. I was the son of a Marine fighter pilot, and I had grown up on Marine bases where I had watched the men of the Corps perform simulated war games in the forests of my childhood. That a novelist and poet bloomed darkly in the house of Santini strikes me as a remarkable irony. My mother and father had raised me to be an Al Kroboth, and during the Vietnam era they watched in horror as I metamorphosed into another breed of fanatic entirely. I understand now that I should have protested the war after my return from Vietnam, after I had done my duty for my country. I have come to a conclusion about my country that I knew then in my bones but lacked the courage to act on: America is good enough to die for even when she is wrong. I looked for some conclusion, a summation of this trip to my teammate's house. I wanted to come to the single right thing, a true thing that I may not like but that I could live with. After hearing Al Kroboth's story of his walk across Vietnam and his brutal imprisonment in the North, I found myself passing harrowing, remorseless judgment on myself. I had not turned out to be the man I had once envisioned myself to be. I thought I would be the kind of man that America could point to and say, "There. That's the guy. That's the one who got it right. The whole package. The one I can depend on." It had never once occurred to me that I would find myself in the position I did on that night in Al Kroboth's house in Roselle, New Jersey: an American coward spending the night with an American hero.Pat Conroy's novels include The Prince of Tides, The Great Santini, The Lords of Discipline, and Beach Music. He lives on Fripp Island, South Carolina. This essay is from his forthcoming book, My Losing Season.
Download MS Word .DOC of this essay
"REST
IN PEACE "
"In Memoriam" Maj. Doug Meredith
click
29) Douglas E. Meredith
A/2/94
Reorganization to Apr 68
tetvet68@aol.com
One of the first 11 members assigned from 4-28 in May 66 to 2-94 when Bn was organized t Ft. Sill in 1966. Served in Chu Lai, Dong Ha, Camp Carrol, Rockpile and as Bn LNO to 26th Marines in Khe Sanh.
30) Mark Swearengen
Siege - Forty Days at Khe Sanh, Marine Corps Gazette,
1973
2/94 Artillery
By Mark Swearengen
September 1967 - September 1968
jojazzz@webtv.net
Served as battalion liaison officer and later Bravo Battery commander.
31) Michael Spiegelman, M.D.
2nd Bn/94th Arty
8/70-7/71
mspiegelman@satx.rr.com
I would love to hear from anyone who remembers me. I served with 2/94 Arty as batallion surgeon at Camp Love, Khe Sahn and its firebases during Lam Son 719, and Camp Eagle. I served under LTC John Oates and LTC Joseph Ganahl.I offer my sincere condolences to the family of LTC Ganahl.
32) John H Clayton
John's Pics
B Battery 2/94
9/70 - 5/71
bclayton@fiberpipe.net
Today (11/18/00) was this first I have heard or seen your site. Was very emotional for me. Was with B battery from 9/70 to 5/71. I was a Parts Specialist and permanent Sargeant of the guard after Snow left. Names I remember were Water Buffalo, Green, Suave, Carles Buckley. Ken Sladek. Ski, Big Dick Tupin, Tex, Jeff Sims, Morris Faber, and many others I can't recall at this time. Would love to hear from anyone.
33) BENNETT, J. DAVID
C BTRY 2/94 HQ SECTION
JUNE OF 66 TIL MARCH OF 67
smithman45@yahoo.com
I WAS WITH THE UNIT WHEN IT FORMED IN THE WORLD AND THEN THAT GOD AWFUL TUB CALLED THE ELTINGE TOOK US TO VIET NAM. NOT SURE OF THE FORM UP DATE OR DATE I WAS ROTATED OUT TO ANOTHER UNIT. I WAS A RADIO OPERATOR FOR A 2ND LT. NAMED BARRY M. DEVITA FROM SANTA CLARA COLLEGE IN CA. AS I REMEMBER IT THE FIRST ONE TO BY IT IN THE UNIT WAS A KID NAMED HOLROYD IF NOT THE FIRST HE WAS THE SECOND AND THE FIRST WAS THE OLDMANS DRIVER WHO DROWNED IN THE RIVER WASHING THE JEEP. HOLROYD GOT IT FROM A BAD LOT OF FUSES. DEVITA STEPPED ON A LAND MINE JUST AFTER I ROTATED. I THINK HE SURVIVED. GOD BLESS AND WECOME HOME.
34) Carl Nielsen
C BTRY 2nd 94th Arty HHB 2/94 Arty
Apr70-Nov70
Nov69-Apr70
buzzn@myeastern.com and
vett67@hotmail.com
Was with HHB 2/94 Arty 11/69-4/70 Was with C Btry 2/94th 4/70-11/70 Thanks to Stanley Duitman for telling me about this site. I very well may have been your replacement!
35) Chris Monteleon Chris's Pics
2/94, 1/39, 108th Gp
This website is a discovery! Will have to get a scanner...have pics some of you might like to see.
36) Patrick (Pat) Lacher
Pat's Pic's
HHQ BATY, 2ND 94TH
2/67 - 6/68
patricklacher@yahoo.com
This is a great page. Thanks for setting it up. Pat
37) PFC M. K.
Williams ( Willie) (Ken)
Willie's Pics
2nd Bn 94th FA
Nov 67-Mar-68
vn6768@oecadvantage.net
I hauled rations from Dong Ha to JJ Carroll . I worked for Mr. Jude and Sgt. Curley. We of the 2/94th were a team, a good one, don't let anyone ever tell you different. A woman once told me a couple of years ago that the Vietnam War was over and that she was tired of hearing about the damn thing. So instead of blowing up I sat down and wrote my thoughts down instead of wasting my breath on her ignorance:
THE VIETNAM WAR IS OVER This is true as far as our present daily lives and situations are apparent to us, but for some individuals, the Hell of War will never be over. If you Were virtually not touched by the incidents of Vietnam and your life was untouched by its brutality and blood letting, shellings, loss of friends and relatives. Or if you weren't even born, then yes, I guess it is over. But over or not, never belittle or take lightly the sacrifices our Airmen, Naval, Army and Marine Corps Troops made.. And the fact that when their country called they responded and did the job in spite of the unpopularity of the cause. They didn't run to Canada or jump into College or cowardly hide behind so called principles or their mother's skirts. Afraid or not, they responded and adhered to their patriotic duty. Those people are the real Americans. These are the people that could and can still be counted on. So when you say The Vietnam War is over think again, there are still casualties falling every day. Diseases inc
WELCOME HOME MY BROTHERS!! Meryl K. Williams
38) Felton Dunnehoo (Boonie
Buck)
A Btry 2nd 94th
Jan 70 to Nov 70
FelDun@msn.com
I have been looking for a site like this. Have found some of the guys on A Btry if interested please send e-mail.
39) Jim Steenwyk
A Battery 2nd Bn 94th Arty.
11-68 to 1-70
jsteen70@hotmail.com
Great web site, was in Dong Ha, LZ Sally, and Camp Evans.
40) Joe Resavage
C btry, 2nd 94th arty (gun 4)L
july 70 / sept 71
jer175@yahoo.com
Welcome home to all bros. Great site. Let's hear from some of you guys now...
2-94Vets 2-94Vets41-60 2-94Vets61-80 2-94Vets81-100
2-94Vets101-120 2-94Vets121-140 2-94Vets141-160 2-94Vets 161-180 2-94Vets181-200