“I Didn’t Want Anyone To Know I Was In Vietnam”: An RTO In D Company, 1st Battalion, 5th Cavalry

Al Walker’s story is a powerful reflection on the duality of a soldier's life: the intense, desensitizing reality of combat as experienced by a 19-year-old, and the decades-long journey toward healing, remembrance, and community. Through the support of his late wife Diane and current wife PJ, unit reunions, and his creative outlet of writing poetry, Al transitioned from wanting to hide his service to being deeply proud of his time in the military and his fellow Veterans. Al grew up in the Burnt Hickory community in Dallas, Georgia. His family’s roots in the area predate the Civil War. His mother was a strict schoolteacher, and his father was a pulpwooder, car delivery driver, and World War II veteran, although he never talked about his wartime experiences. Al’s father had a chicken farm, and Al and his brother Jackson helped out, sometimes wrangling as many as 25,000 chickens. When Al was in his mother’s 3rd grade class, she failed him. Years later, as a high school senior, he was drafted while still a student, because repeating 3rd grade made him “draft-age” while he was still a student. Uncle Sam granted Al a year deferment, and he spent part of that year working in California. Al hated high school, calling his experiences “awful.” By the time he was drafted, he knew Vietnam was in his future and he “was ready for it.” Al reported to Ft. Benning, Georgia, for Basic Training, and AIT (Advanced Infantry Training) followed at Ft. Polk’s “Tigerland.” Al remembers his time in Basic Training, recalling “I was used to being in the woods. I did my job. Looking back, I liked it.” He remembers a specific black Drill Sergeant who was tough, but good. He was not used to firing the M-14 in Basic Training, but in AIT with the M-16, he shot very well, scoring the highest in the Battalion. He focused on his training at Tigerland because he was determined to survive in Vietnam, and he studied intensely. The cadre at Tigerland “really worked on your mind.” He describes learning how to move through the terrain at Ft. Polk and being chased by the “VC” while on maneuvers. After graduating from AIT, he had 20 days at home before flying to San Francisco. The night alone in a hotel with his thoughts before he flew to Vietnam was “the loneliest night in my life.” He landed in Cam Ranh Bay in April 1967, “excited and scared,” and was taken aback by the heat and humidity. He was assigned to Delta Company, 1st Battalion 5th Cavalry, and was flown out to the boonies. He spent about a week conducting familiarization training in An Khe before joining his Platoon. He recalls that out in the jungle no one knew what day of the week it was. It was a simplified way of looking at the world: “the sun comes up, the sun went down.” Al was assigned as the Radio Telephone Operator for LT Jim Hackett, USMA 66, who became Al’s personal hero because “he was so smart.” Hackett trained them well, focusing on moving silently through the bush. Hackett’s platoon became known as “Hackett’s Hunters,” and was extremely cohesive. Once, moving silently through elephant grass, the Platoon halted for a break. Sitting quietly in the tall grass, a group of Vietnamese women carrying bundles of coconuts stumbled upon the resting GIs and a firefight ensued. The women were armed, and one was killed in the exchange. Based on signs the Platoon observed and the direction the women were traveling, Hackett and the Company Commander, CPT Johnson, determined that the women must have been providing support for an NVA unit operating in the area. The next morning, Hackett’s platoon saddled up, summited the mountain, and successfully surprised the NVA unit. They found the enemy soldiers resting in hammocks with their rifles leaning against trees. Because of the intelligence gathered from the encounter in the elephant grass, they were able to surround them and, as Al described it, the NVA “had a bad day.” At one point, Al’s unit broke a record by staying out in the bush for 93 consecutive days without returning to a Landing Zone (LZ). Supplies and hot meals were slung in by helicopters as they kept on the move. In October 1967, Al experienced a chaotic three-day engagement with North Vietnamese forces. Two of the unit’s dog handlers were killed, along with 52 NVA soldiers. Al recalls capturing an NVA soldier as a prisoner of war (POW) and ambushing several other enemy Soldiers who had previously been wounded. Al describes becoming desensitized by the war. He shares a painful memory of clearing a village that had been leveled and sitting by a deceased two- or three-year-old baby without feeling any emotion at the time. He explains that their minds were “sealed out” so they could function, though the memory has heavily burdened him in the years since. Al describes carrying the M79 grenade launcher and recalls a firefight where he was able to shoot 30 of the 32 rounds he carried. Frequently, the jungle foliage prevented him from employing the M79 because the round had to spin a certain number of times to become armed. Al was able to take R&R leave to Hawaii, and he remembers spending hours soaking in the tub. As he was preparing to DEROS (Date of Estimated Return from Over Seas), he hopped a Huey (under fire) bound for Khe Sanh, Al remembers that a Soldier was killed on the next helicopter behind him. While he was waiting to fly back to the States, he was assigned to go through the personal effects of LTC Runkle, whose helicopter had been shot down. The NVA got to the crash site before the Americans. Runkle’s body was mutilated and he was left hanging upside down, naked. That memory has haunted Al. When Al’s “Freedom Bird” took off, he recalls that “everyone went crazy.” He arrived home in the rain and refused an umbrella because he “had been wet for a year.” His homecoming was marred. His mother fell and broke her hip as they arrived home, and his father, unable to handle the stress, verbally abused and blamed Al for the accident: “He cussed me like a yard dog.” Al recalls thinking, “Vietnam wasn’t that bad.” Years later, Al felt like he finally received the recognition the Vietnam Veterans deserved. He was at the Grand Ole Opry in Nashville, and the D/1-5 Cav Veterans who were there for a reunion received a standing ovation. Later, as they were leaving the Opry, Al started yodeling (he demonstrates his yodel at the end of the interview). Al notes, “it feels like we done our job.” After returning, Al still owed the Army six months, and he was assigned to train OCS (Officer Candidate School) Candidates at Ft. Benning, Georgia. After leaving the military, he raised chickens, worked as a fire fighter, and in construction. Eventually he started building custom homes and became an interior decorator. Al has suffered from severe Post Traumatic Stress, which occasionally threatened his happy marriage. When his wife of 47 years, Diane, passed away, he “went in a hole for three years,” noting that it was “worse than Vietnam.” Recalling that time, he states, “Thank God I didn’t turn to alcohol or drugs.” Life with his new wife, PJ, helped him. Al could sense when his Post Traumatic Stress was being triggered, and he could feel his anger “boiling up.” He sought solace in a cabin in the woods on his property and often stayed there for days. One of his worst episodes involved a flashback where he believed he was back in Vietnam and hid in the dark woods until 3:00 AM. Attending reunions helps Al deal with his Post Traumatic Stress, and the D Company reunions help him open up “1,000%.” One year, D Company went to the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in D.C., and while visiting “the Wall,” a fellow Veteran, Lou Perozzi, saluted Al, causing Al's emotional walls to completely break down. That night, the veterans held a deeply therapeutic “testimony” session. Once, Al hosted a reunion at his property, featuring an escort by local deputy sheriffs that left “not a dry eye on the bus.” Al’s property, “Ynot,” is an historical / conceptual town on his property, including a church built in 25 days so a local woman could get married there. Near the end of the interview, Al reflects on his service to the Nation. Initially, when he returned from overseas, he “didn’t want nobody to know I was in Vietnam.” Years later, the healing power of attending reunions, meeting old friends, and getting help with Post Traumatic Stress through the Veterans Administration allowed Al to be proud of his service. At the end of the interview, he reads a poem that he wrote for his mother as a 19-year old Soldier in Vietnam in 1967, which his mother had published in the Dallas New Era newspaper. Al still writes poetry, and years later, he wrote a poem for a deceased fellow Veteran, Dennis Montoya, framed it in a shadow box, and read it at Dennis’s funeral.