Image provided by: University of Oregon Libraries; Eugene, OR
About The daily Astorian. (Astoria, Or.) 1961-current | View Entire Issue (June 3, 2016)
2C THE DAILY ASTORIAN • FRIDAY, JUNE 3, 2016 A RETURN TO VIETNAM Former Marine interpreter takes emotional journey An abrupt ending By KATHY ANEY East Oregonian I n his mind, Skip Nichols often returned to Vietnam. Sometimes memories sidled into his con- sciousness. Other times they reached out, grabbed him and plunged him back into the thick of the war. He tried banishing them to the basement of his psyche. When that didn’t work, he worked with a counselor to bring the memories out into the open as a way to diminish their power. But noth- ing, it seemed, could totally silence the voices of Vietnam. So, he decided to go back. Nichols and his wife Paula took a battleield tour called Return to Vietnam. The Walla Walla, Washington, couple lew to Hanoi in March and joined a group of Vietnam veterans who were intent on returning to the country that had affected them so much. The 12 veterans determined the itinerary for the two-week tour. Each chose a few locations where they had experienced something profound and often disturbing. Also along on the trip was the daughter of a soldier who had died in Vietnam. Almost ive decades had rushed by since Nich- ols had last set foot on Vietnam soil. In the interim, he met Paula on a blind date in Texas, fell in love, married and raised two daughters. He carved out a successful career in journalism, retiring in 2013 as managing editor of the East Oregonian. Through the years, the impact of his Vietnam experience simmered behind his easygoing disposition. E.J. Harris/East Oregonian Former Marine interpreter Skip Nichols holds a piece of shrapnel from a North Vietnamese rocket that killed a fellow Marine right next to him during the Tet Offensive in the Vietnam War. The buddy plan Nichols’ Vietnam journey started at 18 when he and a friend joined the military on the buddy plan after a Marine recruiter dropped into high school study hall to chat. After graduation in 1967, Nich- ols attended boot camp, went to radio school and learned Vietnamese. Soon he was landing at an air- ield in Da Nang. He received his orders, a lak jacket, helmet, weapons and ammunition. He took another light and a long ride in a cargo truck to an artillery base called Camp Carroll, which was south of the Demilitarized Zone and home to the 3rd Marine Regiment. Arriving at Camp Carroll is still vivid in his memory. “We threw our sea bags off the truck to the ground,” he said. “They sank into the mud.” As a radio man, he and other Marines patrolled dangerous ground. He got used to frequent ambushes. “It was a pretty hot area,” Nichols said. “That was home for ive months.” Other memories are tougher for Nichols. One day at the Quang Tri base in central Viet- nam, Nichols remembers standing in line for the showers after coming back from patrol. He stepped into an outdoor shower stall, his lak jacket, hel- met and weapon close by. The shower came to an abrupt halt as the base came under attack. “Rockets and mortars started coming in,” Nich- ols recalled. “The alarm sounded over speakers. I remember running to the perimeter and thinking, ‘I don’t want to die naked.’” As he and another Marine ran side-by-side, a rocket exploded “10 meters behind us.” Nichols, knocked out for a short while, awoke to see the other man dead only yards away. Later, after med- ? 9-1-WHAT? THE BEST OF THE WORST CALLS TO ASTORIA 911 DISPATCH In 1968, Nichols’ time in Vietnam ended so abruptly that he’d never said a proper goodbye. The young Marine was called home to Texas when it appeared his mother was dying from an aneurysm. When his mom recovered, he got ready to return to the war. Waiting for his light, how- ever, he got word his father had suffered a stroke. Nichols never made it back to Vietnam. Later, he learned many of the men in his unit had died in an artillery attack. “Honestly, I have always felt guilty,” Nichols said. “It still eats at me. Maybe I could have made a difference.” Probably not, though, he admitted. He likely would have come home in a cofin just as they had. Nichols’ wife, Paula, experienced her own awakening during the Vietnam tour. At irst, Skip hadn’t wanted her to come along to a place that had caused him so much pain. But she insisted. She didn’t want him to face it alone. Plus her hus- band didn’t like to talk about Vietnam and she needed to know more. “It made me more understanding,” Paula said. “I found out more in two weeks than in 46 years of marriage.” Nichols is glad she insisted on coming. “It made an important connection for us,” he said. Together, they visited such places as the High- way of Horror, the Tu Duc Tombs, Hamburger Hill and the Vinh Moc Tunnels, a complex of pas- sageways dug by locals to evade U.S. bombing. They took a dragon boat cruise and walked on China Beach. Nichols said he loves the country and the peo- ple, despite Vietnam being the site of so much vio- lence. During the trip, he felt amazed by the peo- ple’s warmth. “They didn’t seem to hold any animosity,” Nichols said. “They were warm and welcoming.” “Everyone wanted to talk,” Paula said. “We’d draw a crowd. They wanted to practice their English.” Impossible to really go back Skip Nichols/Submitted Photo A fishing boat on the beach at Cua Viet on the South China Sea. ics had taken the soldier away, Nichols noticed a jagged and bloody piece of shrapnel embedded nearby. He removed the chunk of metal and still has it, a poignant reminder of the brutality of war and the randomness of who died and who didn’t. A boy on a water buffalo Other memories haunt Nichols, too. He remembers a boy riding a water buffalo toward the perimeter of Camp Carroll. Though warned to turn around, the boy kept on coming. An ofi- cer ordered Nichols and other Marines that if the rider came any farther, they were to shoot him. He crossed the perimeter and, in seconds, the boy and the water buffalo lay dead. “Later, we learned he was retarded,” Nichols said. “He loved the chocolates the Americans gave out. That’s why he had come.” The experiences kept coming. More often than not, Nichols admitted he “was pretty damn scared” in Vietnam. This is tough stuff. Every veteran has their own searing memories. On the tour bus, the veterans told their stories over a microphone to the others, usually just before arriving at a destination signif- icant to the speaker. Many of the stops brought strong emotion. The group hiked with one of their members to the spot where her father had died. She carried photos, lowers, medals, a letter he had written to her shortly before his death and a poem she had penned in his honor. She read the letter and the poem. The veterans saluted as “Taps” wafted from a recorder. They accompanied a fellow veteran to a vil- lage where he had spent time. He met a woman who he gave medicine to when she was a 15-year- old girl. She rode up on a motorcycle, and both of their faces lit up with recognition. She invited the American veteran to her home. Nichols said even though he returned to Vietnam, he realizes now that it wasn’t pos- sible to really go back. The Vietnam he knew doesn’t really exist anymore. Take Da Nang, for example. “I didn’t even recognize it,” Nichols said. “I had thought of it as my 18-year-old self, but it has changed.” Nichols remembered two-story buildings, shacks and Quonset huts near the airport. He and Paula found skyscrapers, golf courses, luxury hotels, private villas, resorts and even a Dragon Bridge that breathes ireworks and spouts water. But, standing back on that red Vietnamese soil, he felt some of his demons loosening their grip. Visiting his own list of signiicant places and those of others brought some of Nichols’ murky memories into focus. After seeing Camp Carroll, Quang Tri and other spots and talking to fellow veterans, he can now ill in some of the gaps. “Before, I would try and put the pieces together into a giant puzzle where I didn’t even know what the picture was,” Nichols said. “This trip allowed me to add my pieces to others’.” Haters W e get cranky with the neighbors as much as anyone. But the Seaside caller who suffered through the music and the singing but alerted the cops about offensive lyrics? Please. The answer to bad lyrics is always more bad lyrics ... Follow reporter Kyle Spurr on his 9-1-What? Twitter watch, where a few of the sometimes head-scratching calls to area dispatch take center stage. The full feed is at www.twitter.com/9_1_WHAT. Now available in the The Daily Astorian and Chinook Observer For more information call 503-325-3211 crbizjou rn a l.com