Veterans Month
November 2003
NS Veterans Remember
Frank Lang
Accountant
Corporate Accounting
I am a Vietnam veteran and have been with NS for about 34½ years. I was drafted into the Army in 1966, after being married only six weeks to the day. I was sent to Texas, where I spent my first year training in the White Sands to go overseas. Then in April 1967, I was sent to Vietnam to an area called Phouc Vinh where I was assigned to the First Infantry Division known as "The Big Red One," 6th Battalion and 27th Artillery, "C" Battery. There, I was assigned to the communications section for a few weeks, then worked as the Captain's driver, and finally ended up working in the fire directional center where I could use the training I had back in Texas.
In the FDC, we plotted targets and computed data to hit assigned targets or shoot support fire for the infantrymen who were out on fire missions, or what we called "chasing down the Viet Cong." When the infantrymen ran into the Viet Cong, they would radio us for support fire and we'd shoot for them. We had the biggest guns on the ground in Vietnam - the 8-inch and 175-mm - and could hit a target ten miles away as a direct hit about 98 percent of the time.
The Viet Cong hated us and the infantry loved us. We took pride in being a good battery. Keep in mind these projectiles weighed about 400 pounds. And the only difference between the guns was the 8-inch could shoot up to about 16 miles away with great accuracy, and the 175-millimeter could shoot up to 26 miles away, but the accuracy was reduced at that distance. The barrel on the 8-inch was 15 feet long and the one on the 175 was 25 feet long. These were great guns and I felt very secure with them, however we were a big target when the Viet Cong tried to hit us with mortars and rockets. And they knew if they knocked out the FDC the guns would not fire. So we were a prime target most of the time.
For my first five months in Vietnam, we were stationary in Phouc Vinh at our assigned compound. In the last seven months, we traveled around all over South Vietnam chasing the Viet Cong with the infantry, spending a night here and then another night or two in some other location. That moving took its toll from the lack of food and supplies to not hearing from home in weeks. Tempers became short and at times we wanted to kill each other. Sometimes the food got so bad that we only got a box of "C" rations every 24 hours, which included some kind of small can of potted meat, a can of fruit and a canned biscuit.
Most of the rations had been boxed up in the mid- to early 1930s. At times, you could open the canned biscuit and it was nothing but powder in the can. It had completely deteriorated.
During those seven months, my weight went from 180 lbs. down to 128 lbs. My wife and friends didn't recognize me when I arrived back in Roanoke in early May 1968. Most importantly, I made it back home. I wouldn't take a million dollars for the experience, but I wouldn't want to go through it again for several million.