Operation Just Cause ...for as long as it takes
By Linda D. Kozaryn
WASHINGTON, Jan. 5, 2000 -- Sammy L. Davis and Al Rascon
say they're nothing special -- just two regular guys who
went to war and did what they had to do.
The blue-ribboned Medals of Honor that adorn their chests,
however, belie their humble claims. Since its creation
during the Civil War, 3,434 people have received the
nation's highest award for valor.
Davis, an Army artilleryman born in Mooresville, Ind., and
Rascon, a former Army medic born in Chihuahua, Mexico,
risked their lives in Vietnam to save others. Even though
they shy away from the term, both are American heroes.
Although severely wounded, they fought valiantly, used
their bodies to shield fellow soldiers and refused medical
attention until their buddies were safe.
Today, as members of the Congressional Medal of Honor
Society, the two Vietnam veterans share their wartime
experiences with people around the country. They address
students of all ages as well as military groups and private
organizations.
In mid-December, Davis and Rascon traveled with Defense
Secretary William S. Cohen to military bases in Germany and
the Balkans. At each stop, the veterans told the troops
they wear the Medal of Honor on behalf of all who have
fought the nation's wars. They also paid tribute to the
military men and women now serving around the world.
"I'm not a hero," Davis said during an interview with
American Forces Press Service. "I know in my heart, you
see, that I'm not any more brave than you are. I am maybe a
little more determined, but I'm not any more brave. I'm 54
years old and I'm still scared of the dark. That's not a
hero."
Most Medal of Honor recipients feel they're no different
than the other men and women who serve, Davis said.
"Because of circumstance, determination and help from the
Man above, we were able to accomplish some feats that some
people may call heroic," he explained.
No one knows how he or she will react when they go to war,
Davis said. "When you go into combat, I think you have in
your heart's eye the picture of the flag and everything
that it stands for," he noted, "but when it comes down to
the actual fighting, what you're fighting for is each
other."
Davis recalled a rainy night when his outfit was sent to
reinforce another unit being overrun by the enemy.
"We were all really frightened, but we weren't talking
about it," he said. "Then, someone said, 'Damn, I hope I
don't run. I hope I can do my job.' And another man said,
'I hope I'm not so frightened that I just freeze.' Then all
of us said, 'Yeah, man. Me too.'
"We discovered that what we were most frightened of was
being frightened," Davis said. "None of us wanted to die,
but we would have rather lost our lives doing what was
right than living knowing we didn't do our job. We were
willing to do our job for our buddies "
No matter how bleak the situation, Davis pointed out,
camaraderie and “down home” humor could often brighten the
troops' outlook.
"I remember one night we were getting mortared and we were
almost out of ammunition," he recalled. "All of us were
seriously getting scared because it was a real bad
situation. Then Delbert W. Cole, a Spec 4 from Beaumont,
Texas, shouted at the top of his lungs, 'If they don't quit
this shit, I'm gonna call my Congressman.'"
Cole's cheeky comment heartened the men in spite of the
danger, Davis said. "When Del did that, we all just
thought, "Yeah, life is good."
For a long time afterward, Davis said he tried to forget
Vietnam, but nightmares disturbed his sleep. Then a World
War II veteran taught him that remembering was far easier
than trying to forget.
Davis said he attended a World War II memorial ceremony
along with John W. Finn, the oldest living Medal of Honor
recipient. Finn was a lieutenant at Naval Air Station,
Kaneohe Bay, in Hawaii, when the Japanese attacked on Dec.
7, 1941. At the ceremony, Finn was supposed to lay a wreath
of roses on the water over the sunken battleship, the USS
Arizona. Instead, Davis said, Finn, took one rose at a time
and spoke by name of the men who were there that fatal day.
"He'd say a name and he'd tell us if the man was married,
what his wife's name was, if he had children, what his
children's names were," Davis said. "Then he'd lay the rose
on the water."
Even after 40 years, Finn still remembered all the details,
Davis said.
"Right then I realized I wasn't going to forget about
Vietnam -- so let's remember it," Davis said. "Instead of
trying to keep it back in the dark, let's bring it out in
the light. It's been much more healthy to be able to talk
about it, cry about it and just deal with it."
Medically retired, Davis now spends as much time as his
health allows talking to people all over the country.
Speaking to young or old, military or civilian, his message
is always the same.
"I try to encourage them to stand up for what they believe
to be right," he said. "The best way you can serve your
nation is to firmly stand for what you believe is correct
in your heart."
Many young people today know little about the military,
Davis noted. "Their parents were not in the military. Maybe
grandpa was, but he's been gone for so long so they don’t
have a real concept of what the military is about."
When young people ask why he went to Vietnam, Davis
explains that he volunteered right after high school.
"I felt it was my duty to help a people be free," he said.
"My daddy had gone to World War II to help freedom. My
older brother went to Germany during the Berlin Crisis to
help people be free. My other brother was in Korea. Vietnam
came along and it was my turn to go help freedom."
Davis said he and the other Medal of Honor recipients aim
to help young people believe in themselves and in their
country. The response has been overwhelming, he noted. Even
though the group does not advertise, word of mouth has led
to countless speaking engagements.
"We started off thinking if we did a school a month we'd be
lucky. Now, if we had three times the number of Medal of
Honor recipients we still couldn't fulfill the obligations
we have."
Rascon, known to his platoon mates as "Doc," is one of the
latest to join the society's ranks. The former Army medic
received the Medal of Honor in February 2000 for his heroic
actions in Vietnam in 1966.
At the time, he received a Silver Star, but the request for
his Medal of Honor had gotten lost in red tape. Platoon
members persisted in tracing the request until, 34 years
later, President Clinton presented the medal Feb. 8, 2000,
at the White House.
"This award is not really mine; it's for those who were
with me that day," the soft-spoken Rascon told Clinton. "I
did it because I had to do it and that's all there is to
it. I don't consider myself a hero -- anybody in combat
would do the same thing for their buddies and friends."
Receiving the medal changed Rascon's life, he told American
Forces Press Service. "You're living one day as a regular
U.S. citizen," he said. "The next day you're a Medal of
Honor recipient.
"I was a 19-year-old kid in Vietnam. I was just doing my
job. Now people expect me to be a poet laureate, magna cum
laude, all things to all people. But in reality, I'm just a
human being with faults like everybody else.
"The Medal of Honor that I carry is not for myself," he
stressed. "I bear the Medal of Honor for everybody who has
been in combat and those who end up putting their lives in
jeopardy every day being fighting men and women."
Rascon, who retired Jan. 3, from his job as the Selective
Service Agency's inspector general, said he's gotten
countless phone calls and mountains of mail since receiving
the medal. "I even ended up getting mail addressed to the
'Medal of Honor Guy' and the post office knew where to send
it," he said.
Even though he always looked at Medal of Honor recipients
with awe, Rascon confessed he's dumbfounded that troops now
look at him the same way. "It's not me, it's the medal," he
said. "It draws them like a magnet.
"I was at Fort Sam Houston, Texas, two months ago, and
there was a young sergeant in a wheel chair who'd been
involved in a serious accident. He had I-don't-know-how-
many stitches around his head. He saw me in the hallway and
immediately came up to me and wanted to shake my hand. I'm
almost in tears trying to talk to him, and he's just awed
by the fact that I'm there."
Others at the base were more hesitant to approach the
Vietnam vet. "Some people are afraid to talk to you because
they think you're somebody special, but you're not," he
said. "I went up to a group of combat medics and said 'I
was a grunt medic just like you.'"
During his time in Vietnam, Rascon said caring for his
friends was foremost on his mind and he knew they would
care for him.
"War is organized chaos," Rascon remarked. "You end up
hearing people crying for their mothers when they're dying.
You end up with people bleeding to death. You end up
hearing gun shots. You smell the smell of the cordite from
the weapons going off. It's just organized Hell."
For the most part, he continued, people do what needs to be
done. Thousands of people probably deserve Medals of Honor
who never received them, he said, because no one witnessed
their valorous and courageous acts.
"During the time I was in Vietnam, 1965 to 1966, I took
care of people who were critically injured. I took care of
people who died in my arms. Time and again, I saw people
risk their lives trying to help somebody like they were
supposed to. They didn't give it a second thought."
Rascon still hears from some of his platoon mates. He
recently received a Christmas card that said, "I have a
family, my health, my military career -- all thanks to
you."
Other platoon members still express thanks to the medic who
tended their wounds in the heat of battle.
"I'm humbled and embarrassed by it," Rascon said. "I was
just doing my job. I know that somebody would have done the
same thing for me."
For more information on Davis and Rascon go to the:
U.S.
Army Center of Military History Medal of Honor Website For information, go to the:
Congressional Medal of Honor Society Website
Sent in by Veterans News and Information
American Forces Press Service
