MONROE - Putting his tennis shoes on the ground in Vietnam rather than Army-issued boots was a shock to Orson "Junior" Robertson Jr.
But more than the kind reception of the locals and the vaulting skyscrapers that replaced the huts and one-story buildings Robertson saw during his first tour during the Vietnam War, he was most taken aback by the life he saved.
"We took so much life there that it felt good to know some life was saved," the Monroe man said.
"In war, you either kill or the enemy kills you."
During a recent trip to Vietnam, Robertson visited a Catholic monastery. A Vietnamese priest there named Stanislas recognized Robertson as the young American solder who saved his life some 47 years ago.
Now 78, Stanislas thanked and hugged Robertson as soon as he saw him.
"I had no idea he'd be there," Robertson said.
Robertson, now 69, said during his 1967-1968 tour, he and a company of about 45 men stormed a Catholic monastery, running head-long into fire from three machine guns.
"We lost 40 men," Robertson said. "They were just gunning us down in the ditch, and me and another guy shot up one of the machine gunner positions and got to the door."
They kicked the bamboo door open to 10 to 15 North Vietnamese - one with a gun to Stanislas' head.
Robertson said he and the other American killed and cleared the room. But in the fracas, he couldn't remember the priest or what he looked like.
Until 47 years later when he returned to a hug and a photo with the man he saved.
Robertson said when he met Stanislas, despite the language barrier, the two talked for about 15 minutes before saying good-bye.
•••
A flower broad and deep broke off from the shore and drifted its way down the Saigon River, dislodged from a boat's wake. Bigger than a lily pad, with Robertson's describing it "as big as an island," it became just another bit of nature's flotsam left in the brackish river.
Robertson fondly recalls watching that large bloom near sunset during his trip to Vietnam Jan. 29 to Feb. 8 with his friend Jon Rufenacht, also of Monroe.
Robertson's voice is like gravel over stained glass, beautiful and rough at the same time. His demeanor is calm, even when he describes gunning down multiple North Vietnamese soldiers. He speaks with a gravity and grace, and only time and years allow the stories to come easily.
"It took me 20 years before I could talk about it," Robertson said. "To kill someone is not a nice thing."
The emotion is almost taken out of his stories, but when pressed, Robertson admits it got to him despite years of pushing it down.
"After we left the monastery, I cried a little. I had Jon walk ahead of me so he wouldn't see me break down," Robertson said. "It bothers me really bad losing so many guys."
He bowed his head forward. "You want to feel where it went in?" All that's left of the hole where a bullet almost found its way inside Robertson's skull is a dent in his gray hair. It's just a little bump of what could have cost him his life: The bullet rammed through his steel helmet and a stack of letters from home he kept inside it, lodging itself in his skull, mere centimeters from entering his brain.
But that's just one of Robertson's injuries from the war: He came home with three Purple Hearts after his year-long tour.
He was just 22.
•••
Robertson's long-time friend Rufenacht conscripted him to visit Vietnam after Rufenacht's wife said she didn't want to go. It was a trip that was on both men's bucket lists. Robertson wanted to go to heal; Rufenacht, a former school teacher, went to learn and share time with his friend.
Though a little anxious about their reception by the locals, both men found the Vietnamese to be charming and respectful with as much of a distaste for Communism as Robertson himself.
"They hate Communism down there," Robertson said. "They call Russia the 'Russian Mafia' and that they're nothing but a bunch of thugs."
Both Robertson and Rufenacht said in the northern part of Vietnam people were more gruff, but still kind, despite their rocky history.
•••
The Vietnam war left an indelible mark on the American consciousness - not just the trail of dead but also the perceived loss of the war. Robertson said when he spoke with locals during his trip, they wished the U.S. would have kept up its war effort.
"We weren't tourists, we were guests," Robertson said. "They treated us like golden, didn't they, Jon?"
Robertson said if generals in the military had more of a hand in the conflict, perhaps the troops could have returned home with a victory and not the vulgarities and vehemence of people back home.
"If we didn't pull back, if the big shots in Washington had less of a hand in it, I think we could've won," Robertson said.
According the Encyclopedia Britannica, Vietnamese estimates released in 1995 show as many as 2 million civilians died in both North and South Vietnam from 1955 to 1975. The U.S. military estimates that about 250,000 South Vietnamese soldiers died in the Vietnam War, and Vietnamese estimates are that about 1.1 million North Vietnamese and Viet Cong fighters were killed. The U.S. estimates more than 58,200 of the U.S. armed forces died or were missing following the war.
•••
On their trip this winter, Rufenacht and Robertson toured with a guide through some of the jungles where fighting took place. Along the tour were tunnels where North Vietnamese troops used to hide and ambush American troops, as well as examples of booby traps. Pits of spikes smeared with excrement were placed along trails to cut soldiers and potentially infect them with disease during the war.
"We had one guy that fell into one of those traps," Robertson said. "We were walking along and I heard an 'oof' behind me. When I looked back, one of our guys had fallen into one of those pits."
Robertson said during the war, he was a "tunnel rat" and had to drop into dark, claustrophobic tunnels to flush out the enemy.
He said he crept through the leftover tunnels on his return trip this winter but the fit was a little tighter.
"I was like Fatty Arbuckle going down those holes," Robertson said. "What'd you say it sounded like when I came out, Jon?"
"Like a cork coming out of a bottle," Rufenacht said.
"I can tell you how to lose weight. When I was first in-country, I weighed 185 and when I got back, I was 117," Robertson said.
Robertson and Rufenacht visited a marble statue shop and posed for a picture, each man cradling their bellies next to a Buddha statue.
"They called us the happy Buddhas," Robertson said.
•••
Robertson said Vietnam has grown exponentially since he saw it in 1968. With the war almost five decades behind him, Robertson noticed the picturesque quality of the place.
"They have all these beautiful big buildings and like 50, 60 skyscrapers in Saigon," Robertson said. "It was pretty awesome to see all that stuff."
He also noticed the Westernization of Vietnam; there are Burger Kings and American breakfasts at the hotels.
"First they were trying to kill us, and now they have Mickey Mouse on their buildings," Robertson said.
He never had a taste for the cuisine but he said Western influence has improved Vietnam.
"I hated the food the first time, and I hated it this time," Robertson said. "They had an American breakfast with gravy and biscuits ... so I ate a lot at breakfast and snacked throughout the day."
Robertson said he would never go back now. Two trips, three Purple Hearts and a row of fake teeth where the originals were blasted out by shrapnel are enough souvenirs for Robertson.
He said he respects all servicemen and women regardless of whether they saw combat. And he encourages Vietnam veterans to take a trip there.
Robertson's code in life is to "just be happy," and that helped him cope with the death he caused in the war.
"It's like I tell the grandkids, 'Grandpa's going to heaven because he's been to hell,'" Robertson said.
"And another one: Respect your elders. Just be decent."
But more than the kind reception of the locals and the vaulting skyscrapers that replaced the huts and one-story buildings Robertson saw during his first tour during the Vietnam War, he was most taken aback by the life he saved.
"We took so much life there that it felt good to know some life was saved," the Monroe man said.
"In war, you either kill or the enemy kills you."
During a recent trip to Vietnam, Robertson visited a Catholic monastery. A Vietnamese priest there named Stanislas recognized Robertson as the young American solder who saved his life some 47 years ago.
Now 78, Stanislas thanked and hugged Robertson as soon as he saw him.
"I had no idea he'd be there," Robertson said.
Robertson, now 69, said during his 1967-1968 tour, he and a company of about 45 men stormed a Catholic monastery, running head-long into fire from three machine guns.
"We lost 40 men," Robertson said. "They were just gunning us down in the ditch, and me and another guy shot up one of the machine gunner positions and got to the door."
They kicked the bamboo door open to 10 to 15 North Vietnamese - one with a gun to Stanislas' head.
Robertson said he and the other American killed and cleared the room. But in the fracas, he couldn't remember the priest or what he looked like.
Until 47 years later when he returned to a hug and a photo with the man he saved.
Robertson said when he met Stanislas, despite the language barrier, the two talked for about 15 minutes before saying good-bye.
•••
A flower broad and deep broke off from the shore and drifted its way down the Saigon River, dislodged from a boat's wake. Bigger than a lily pad, with Robertson's describing it "as big as an island," it became just another bit of nature's flotsam left in the brackish river.
Robertson fondly recalls watching that large bloom near sunset during his trip to Vietnam Jan. 29 to Feb. 8 with his friend Jon Rufenacht, also of Monroe.
Robertson's voice is like gravel over stained glass, beautiful and rough at the same time. His demeanor is calm, even when he describes gunning down multiple North Vietnamese soldiers. He speaks with a gravity and grace, and only time and years allow the stories to come easily.
"It took me 20 years before I could talk about it," Robertson said. "To kill someone is not a nice thing."
The emotion is almost taken out of his stories, but when pressed, Robertson admits it got to him despite years of pushing it down.
"After we left the monastery, I cried a little. I had Jon walk ahead of me so he wouldn't see me break down," Robertson said. "It bothers me really bad losing so many guys."
He bowed his head forward. "You want to feel where it went in?" All that's left of the hole where a bullet almost found its way inside Robertson's skull is a dent in his gray hair. It's just a little bump of what could have cost him his life: The bullet rammed through his steel helmet and a stack of letters from home he kept inside it, lodging itself in his skull, mere centimeters from entering his brain.
But that's just one of Robertson's injuries from the war: He came home with three Purple Hearts after his year-long tour.
He was just 22.
•••
Robertson's long-time friend Rufenacht conscripted him to visit Vietnam after Rufenacht's wife said she didn't want to go. It was a trip that was on both men's bucket lists. Robertson wanted to go to heal; Rufenacht, a former school teacher, went to learn and share time with his friend.
Though a little anxious about their reception by the locals, both men found the Vietnamese to be charming and respectful with as much of a distaste for Communism as Robertson himself.
"They hate Communism down there," Robertson said. "They call Russia the 'Russian Mafia' and that they're nothing but a bunch of thugs."
Both Robertson and Rufenacht said in the northern part of Vietnam people were more gruff, but still kind, despite their rocky history.
•••
The Vietnam war left an indelible mark on the American consciousness - not just the trail of dead but also the perceived loss of the war. Robertson said when he spoke with locals during his trip, they wished the U.S. would have kept up its war effort.
"We weren't tourists, we were guests," Robertson said. "They treated us like golden, didn't they, Jon?"
Robertson said if generals in the military had more of a hand in the conflict, perhaps the troops could have returned home with a victory and not the vulgarities and vehemence of people back home.
"If we didn't pull back, if the big shots in Washington had less of a hand in it, I think we could've won," Robertson said.
According the Encyclopedia Britannica, Vietnamese estimates released in 1995 show as many as 2 million civilians died in both North and South Vietnam from 1955 to 1975. The U.S. military estimates that about 250,000 South Vietnamese soldiers died in the Vietnam War, and Vietnamese estimates are that about 1.1 million North Vietnamese and Viet Cong fighters were killed. The U.S. estimates more than 58,200 of the U.S. armed forces died or were missing following the war.
•••
On their trip this winter, Rufenacht and Robertson toured with a guide through some of the jungles where fighting took place. Along the tour were tunnels where North Vietnamese troops used to hide and ambush American troops, as well as examples of booby traps. Pits of spikes smeared with excrement were placed along trails to cut soldiers and potentially infect them with disease during the war.
"We had one guy that fell into one of those traps," Robertson said. "We were walking along and I heard an 'oof' behind me. When I looked back, one of our guys had fallen into one of those pits."
Robertson said during the war, he was a "tunnel rat" and had to drop into dark, claustrophobic tunnels to flush out the enemy.
He said he crept through the leftover tunnels on his return trip this winter but the fit was a little tighter.
"I was like Fatty Arbuckle going down those holes," Robertson said. "What'd you say it sounded like when I came out, Jon?"
"Like a cork coming out of a bottle," Rufenacht said.
"I can tell you how to lose weight. When I was first in-country, I weighed 185 and when I got back, I was 117," Robertson said.
Robertson and Rufenacht visited a marble statue shop and posed for a picture, each man cradling their bellies next to a Buddha statue.
"They called us the happy Buddhas," Robertson said.
•••
Robertson said Vietnam has grown exponentially since he saw it in 1968. With the war almost five decades behind him, Robertson noticed the picturesque quality of the place.
"They have all these beautiful big buildings and like 50, 60 skyscrapers in Saigon," Robertson said. "It was pretty awesome to see all that stuff."
He also noticed the Westernization of Vietnam; there are Burger Kings and American breakfasts at the hotels.
"First they were trying to kill us, and now they have Mickey Mouse on their buildings," Robertson said.
He never had a taste for the cuisine but he said Western influence has improved Vietnam.
"I hated the food the first time, and I hated it this time," Robertson said. "They had an American breakfast with gravy and biscuits ... so I ate a lot at breakfast and snacked throughout the day."
Robertson said he would never go back now. Two trips, three Purple Hearts and a row of fake teeth where the originals were blasted out by shrapnel are enough souvenirs for Robertson.
He said he respects all servicemen and women regardless of whether they saw combat. And he encourages Vietnam veterans to take a trip there.
Robertson's code in life is to "just be happy," and that helped him cope with the death he caused in the war.
"It's like I tell the grandkids, 'Grandpa's going to heaven because he's been to hell,'" Robertson said.
"And another one: Respect your elders. Just be decent."