Bill Pfaeffle

I was born on Sept. 3, 1947 in Brooklyn New York city.

August 1966 (age 18) I walked into a Marine Recruiting Office to volunteer to be a Marine. Two weeks later (August 28, 1966) I am in Advanced Infantry training for 12 weeks at Camp Lejeune, South Carolina. I saw guys training for Force Recon and decide I wanted to do that! So, I switched. I finished all requirements for Force Recon and was set to graduate in a week when they realize I needed to have a vision test. I was rated legally blind in one eye and would not be qualified for the parachute jumping requirement. Next stop Camp Pendleton, CA. for a flight to Da Nang (Feb 1, 1967). On arrival I was assigned to a squad. My first mission was 2 days later with hostile forces.

After months of missions my squad leader was hit, and I am made the squad leader (promoted to Lance Corporal).

My Captain reviewed my records and saw that I had Force Recon training and asks if I would be a forward observer in exchange for new boots and fatigues. What could be better than that! I had to requalify with my rifle as part of snipper training and then was assigned a special rifle mounted starlight scope. My first mission was in Laos. I was out in the field for 2 weeks with my spotter Ortiz, and later debriefed in Phu Bai. Most of the time, I was out alone since spotters were not always available. Often, I was dropped off at a specific location and had to walk in the rest of the way. I usually established three pickup points, but many times there were too many Viet Cong in these areas, so, I had to walk out on my own. Many of the missions were in Laos, Cambodia, and North Vietnam.

First time I got hit, I was back with my squad headed to DMZ (Khe Sanh area). I was on point when a battalion of North Vietnamese hit us hard. We fought all day and at night dug trenches to lay in. We got mortared, and I was hit on the side of head, neck, and hand with shrapnel. In the morning the corpsman made his rounds and bandaged me up. Since we were short on manpower, I stayed to finish the mission.

Second time I was wounded, I was back into Force Recon for a visual recon on the border of Laos and North Vietnam with my spotter, Ortiz. We were ambushed. They were on us and shooting. We ran like Hell! I fell into a punji pit trap (this is a hole in the ground with sharpened bamboo spikes). The spikes went into my legs several inches. Ortiz pulled me out, and we continued running to the extraction point. I was bleeding too much and had to stop to sew myself up. Luckily, I had a small sewing kit and needle with me. Ortiz thought I was crazy. We ended up having to walk out. After we were debriefed, a corpsman came to treat me. He told me I did a terrible job of sewing. My leg hurt like hell for a long time after that.

What did I eat while on my missions? I usually went out on missions for 2 to 3 weeks at a time. I only took a few select C rations. Since I could not get resupplied, I needed more space to carry ammo than food. I would watch where the Viet Cong hid their rice stashes and go back later and take some.

The rice balls looked like an oversized soft ball wrapped in a banana leaf. The longer the balls were hidden the more mold and green fuzz would accumulate. Then you just cracked them open and ate. Even today, I still will not eat white rice. I could not eat any meats when out in the field because the VC could smell the odor given off from meat.

January 27,1968 was third time I was wounded. I had just gotten back from R&R in Hawaii. Went back to my recon squad in Khe Sanh. We were on a small hill of elephant grass and dug in for the night. Rockets tore us up for 2 days. Orders were to take Hill 881. We took on heavy fire as

we advanced to the top. I was on point. A Viet Cong jumped out of a hole and threw a chicom grenade. I was hit. The guys helped me along with other wounded to get down the hill. The radio guy was hit, and I took over the radio till things settled down. The corpsman fixed me up and I was choppered to Khe Sanh. Then sent to the hospital ship Repose, and from there to the Philippines. I thought I would be going home, but I had re-upped 6 months earlier, so I was sent back to Da Nang. In Da Nang my Gunny Sergeant said I had been wounded too many times and was going home instead.

From Camp Pendleton to LA Airport. War protesters were there as we arrived. A girl came up to me, spit on me and called me a baby killer. Worse day for me. Then home for 2 weeks to see my parents in New York City before returning to Camp Lejeune. I still had time to do. I was put in an outpatient building because of my wound, and then placed in charge of security for ammo bunkers until I processed into civilian life.