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Over dinner at Oak Hammock John Amott, a widower, recalled some of his experiences during World War II and later as an officer in the U. S. Foreign Service:
We were sitting in the stadium cheering the [Washington] Redskins on against the [Philadelphia] Eagles when the loudspeaker came on: “General So and So report to your office. Admiral So and So call your office immediately.” It kept calling one big shot after another. We wondered what in the world’s going on. Wasn’t long before we found out: Pearl Harbor.
Spying on the Japanese A Guest of Emperor Hirohito
I was very lucky. I was in a liberal arts program at Georgetown University and pretty soon I was studying Japanese courtesy of the Jesuits at the university and the U. S. Army. I was finishing the Japanese course when the Army forgot something—hey, this guy hasn’t had basic training and he needs crypt work. (Laughs.) So they sent me to Camp Crowder for basic training and cryptography.
I was part of the Signal Corps. Toward the end of the war, my outfit was renamed the Army Security Agency. I was stationed at Arlington Hall for the duration of the war and promoted to Tech Sergeant. I worked on Japanese air traffic. I’d get this piece of paper with code on it and try to figure it out and translate it into English. “Purple” was the Japanese cipher machine that had codes. We and the Navy were able to crack those codes. We had a woman we called “Purple Lady.” I don’t recall her name. She was rather mysterious.* She was very good at solving Japanese Purple puzzles. We seemed to have the best luck when she was wearing her purple dress. (Laughs.) We sent flight plans of enemy planes to our carriers and they sent out planes to intercept the Japanese. We all cheered the downing of Yamamoto.
Who got the Yamamoto flight plan?
I don’t know. Maybe somebody at one of our military outstations!** Each of us did his or her job and had minimal contact with others. It was always need to know.
Earlier you said something about being among the first to invade Japan.
The scuttlebutt—and it sounded pretty reliable—was MacArthur wanted everybody who’d been in the U.S. the whole time to be in the first wave. God, was I scared! When they dropped A-bombs and it was all over, I can’t describe how relieved I was. Everybody I’ve ever known who was in service then will tell you, thank God for that bomb!
What are some of the highlights of your foreign-service career?
My first post was Brazil. Again I was lucky. I met Ruth and she spoke six languages. She came from a prominent Brazilian family. I found out she was the winner of a Shakespeare essay contest and made it a point to meet her. Back then you couldn’t marry a foreign national and stay employed. I had to resign to marry her. They investigated her and when she was cleared by security, I got my job back.
What do you remember most about being a Foreign Service officer during the Cold War?
The Berlin Airlift was certainly a high point. I worked with British, French, and West German officials. We set up a kind of FAA organization to check on flights in and out of Berlin. It was a very tense time. We had to keep Tempelhof Airport open. Ruth and I were living in Bonn. I had to fly out of Frankfurt to Berlin in a narrow air corridor. Russian fighters flew on each side of us. We were on pins and needles, afraid if our plane strayed from the corridor we’d be shot down. The Russians flew very close to us, but we always got through. There were a few crashes—American and Russian—but we came out on top in that crisis. I went through Checkpoint Charlie on trips to our American Legation in East Berlin. The Soviets had a legation in West Germany.
My Japan assignment was very memorable. I was part of the American delegation that attended Emperor Hirohito’s birthday celebration, April 29, 1952. Our attendance marked the formal recognition of Japan’s independence from American occupation. The ambassador and his wife entered the imperial room first followed by the rest of us. The emperor stood on a dais. He wore a suit and the empress was dressed in traditional clothes. Each of us bowed to the emperor and then bowed to the empress. The emperor did not speak. The protocol was you don’t turn your back on the emperor. Ruth and I eased out of the room sideways glancing under our elbows to see where the heck we were going. (Laughs.) They served us refreshments in another room. We were told we could take the china we ate on as gifts from the emperor. We got 5 pieces but unfortunately I broke 2 and have only 3 left. I’m being awfully careful with them.
[* The important contributions of women to the Allied effort in World War II have not been fully examined or recognized. Writecorner Press seeks more information about the “Purple Lady” who apparently did invaluable work at Arlington Hall during the war. Send any details to contact@writecorner.com or by regular mail to: Writecorner Press P. O. Box 140310 Gainesville, FL 32614. We would be happy to publish this information and credit its source.]
[** Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto was Commander of the Imperial Japanese Navy. On April 18, 1943, over Bougainville, U. S. Army planes shot down the admiral’s plane, killing him. Only one of the many sources I’ve consulted mention the name of a person involved in direct intelligence about the admiral’s flight. According to Daniel L. Haulman in Air Power History, Vol. 50, 2003, Marine Major Alva B. Lasswell, one of the intelligence analysts at Pearl Harbor's Fleet Radio Unit, received and decoded the message containing Yamamoto’s flight plan. Other personnel may also have had a hand in intercepting and cracking the Yamamoto code.]
Hal Bingham is a widower, a retired surgeon, a World War II veteran, a Korean War-era veteran, and a clarinetist. He has five children and six grandchildren. Like John Amott, the previous narrator, Hal belongs to the Oak Hammock music group that practices every Monday and gives holiday concerts for the residents. I asked if I could meet with Hal and learn more about his experiences as a combat soldier and a surgeon. He invited me to his Oak Hammock apartment on May 28, 2009. Hal later gave me more information on Dec. 3, 2009, and Feb. 24, 2010. The war experiences that he recounts in this oral history also appear in his book Son of Bitche. The book gives vivid details and insights about the U. S. Army 100th Infantry Division's conquest of the German stronghold at Bitche, France. Information on how to acquire the book follows Hal’s narrative about his combat and his service in the Army of Occupation in Germany.
Hardships of Resident Surgery Reconstructive Surgeon in Africa
I completed 8 years of medical school at Kansas, 4½ years of general surgery at Iowa, 2 years of reconstructive surgery at Kansas. I also had an Army internship. I would operate 12, 14, sometimes 15 hours a day. It was just routine. Sometimes I went without eating, never got enough sleep. Couldn’t believe what I was doing as a resident surgeon. It was like the infantry. Infantry and general resident surgery are about the same: No rest! You treat the body terribly. I was 37 before I finally got a faculty post at Missouri. My last position was here at UF. I got cancer, had a kidney taken out in 1989. That year I was also approved for a sabbatical in Africa. I had the operation, recovered, and went to Africa. I was part of an international team of reconstructive surgeons working for the African Medical Research and Educational Foundation. We did about everything. I tried to stay out of the head and belly. They flew us into the bush in single engine planes. The pilots were international, too, from all over. We treated snake bites, hyena bites, cancer, birth defects, cleft palate, leprosy, and other things. Many had leprosy in the face and hands. When leprosy hits the face, it can cause the nose to shrink back into the face. Leprosy attacks the nerves in the hand. The person can’t use the hand. I had to transfer tendons to deal with the problem.
My wife Mary Ann was a nurse. It was 15 years before she got to operate with me. That was in Africa. She said, “You know, you’re not a bad surgeon.” (Laughs.) We’re from Kansas and met as sophomores in high school. Got married in 1948! She was very patient during all my years in medical school. A great help! And we were raising a family which turned out to be two sons and three daughters, and eventually six grandchildren. She died at 80 a few years ago. She got a staph infection probably the result of a back operation. She was a wonderful woman!
Hal and Mary Ann Bingham near the Gulf of Aqaba on a trip to the Middle East, early 1997
Soldier Son of Bitche in World War II
I was in the 399th Army Infantry Regiment, 100th Division. I qualified in almost every weapon the infantry had. We landed at Marseilles in late 1944 and went up the Rhone Valley. We were part of the large European invasion force. We hit stiff resistance at Alsace-Lorraine and really got into it at Bitche. We lost a battle outside Bitche. That was December of ’44. Fort de Bitche, I tell you it was a bitch. The fortifications were part of the Maginot Line. Almost impregnable, walls probably 14 feet thick or more! That stronghold was built in the 16th century and no one had ever taken it, not even the Germans in 1940. In March 1945 we took it. We drove the Krauts off and we became known as Sons of Bitche (says it in French and English plural bitches—laughs.) Yeah, that was really the name we’re known as to this day. After that campaign, we swung south, bypassed Heidelberg and crossed the Neckar River and caught hell at Heilbronn. We thought the Krauts were pretty much through, but they blasted away at us.
I was a PFC, acting squad leader. Outside Stuttgart my squad flushed out a bunch of Germans. One came walking up holding a white flag and said “viel soldaten.” [many soldiers] I told my guys, “Take your safeties off! It’s a trap.” This hauptmann [captain], comes up and says in good English, “Who is in command here?” I said, “I am sir.” He said, “I am not going to surrender to you. I will surrender to your captain.” I said, “If you’ll stack arms, sir, I’ll march you two or three miles to my captain.” So we marched all 184 of ’em down the road. By that time we’d had a number of casualties, including 120 killed. That’s about a whole company.
What do you remember most about your combat?
It was all hell, I tell you, especially Nordwind. Nordwind—that was the name of the Kraut counterattack at Bitche, January ’45. They had very good weapons. They came at us in frontal charges, dumb stuff really! Looked like they might’ve been drugged up. We took a lot of ’em out. You’re shooting an M-1rifle and most of the time you don’t know who you’re hitting. Our right flank gave way. For a few days we were surrounded. Krauts hit us with a helluva artillery barrage. Those 88’s they had were bad weapons. We didn't have artillery equal to the 88. Their tanks were better than ours. The German Luger was more accurate than the 45. The 45 couldn't hit the side of a barn door.* (Laughs.)
In another battle near Bitche, they put a 20 millimeter ack-ack gun on us! We retreated like jackrabbits. We’re trying to regroup and I start digging a hole. Lieutenant Emory says, “Bingham, what the hell you doin’?” “Diggin’ a foxhole, sir!” He says, “No you’re not. We’re gonna counterattack.”
Next day was a hard one for me. About broke me! Dead all over the place, GIs, Krauts. They executed three of ours. Found ’em hands tied behind their back, shot in the head, executed by some Kraut! I knew a lot of the dead. One was Cooper. One was a lieutenant from Virginia, came from a famous Civil War family—forgot his name—dead in his foxhole. I just sat down, almost done in! (Hal leans forward in his chair, face red, head in hands.)
Hal, if this is getting too personal, we can stop.
Naw, you wanna know, so I’m tellin’ you. They took some of us off the line then. Felt good to get a hot meal, bath, change of clothes. We’d been on the line three months eating nothing but K rations, dirty as hell. Not long we were back on the line.
Those situations you don’t know who you kill. Only ones I’m fairly certain of was when we were attacking a goddamn hill. Had a tank with us. It attracted artillery fire. Raining hard. Got to the base of this damn hill. Ordered to attack. We moved up and Krauts pinned us down. Lieutenant says, “Bingham, see that rise over there. Want you to put a grenade right in the middle of it.” I put a phosphorous grenade in there. He says, “Tell G Company to move out!” I was huggin’ the ground, stuff blowin’ up all around. “Damn it, Bingham, if you don’t tell G Company to move out, I’m gonna court-martial your ass.” I had to run like hell ’tween our fire and Kraut fire and I’m yellin’ “G Company, move out!” loud as I can. Eighty-eight came in with my name on it. I jumped behind a tree when it hit. Thought I was dead—couldn’t see or hear—started feeling my pulse. Dirt and tree limbs, crap all over me. Things cleared enough for me to brush the mess off and get up. Saw minefields. Looked over the rise and saw four German officers dead as hell. Their uniforms were clean and they had fresh haircuts. They were still smoking. Might have been my grenade that got ’em.
What did you think of your lieutenant?
I respected him. He’d gotten a battlefield commission.
During your military service did religion have any part in your life?
Growing up, I went to church but I really wasn’t that religious. In combat it’s hard to be religious. Guys around you getting killed, you’re tired, goddamn you’re tired. It’s one real son of a bitch. Guess I had a direct line to the Old Boy above. One time I said, “God, I’d sure like some relief.”
VD Rate in the American Army of Occupation in Germany
After the war I was in the Army of Occupation. I was a company clerk in an MP unit, had to deal with a lot of Germans. Took me some time to get over hating them! I still have residual hostility. Around ’em so much I picked up the language! At Kansas University I took three years of German. Still remember a good bit of it. Being a company clerk, I had access to records I shouldn’t have. The Army’s VD rate then was 30%. GI’s were screwing around with German girls and getting gonorrhea and syphilis. Some were in the 4th stage of syphilis. One hillbilly guy from West Virginia said, “All this for a piece of ass! People are nuts.”
The Army tried to warn us about the dangers of messing around. Coming out of high school, I was innocent as they come. The scuttlebutt was you could kiss a girl and she’d get pregnant. (Laughs.)
 
Hal Bingham at Pforzheim, Germany Harry Rice (l) and Hal Bingham (r)
at Bellancourt, France
Hal, thanks a lot for your story.
You know, every once in a while I still have those damn war dreams.
As I said goodbye, I was suddenly struck by his comment about war dreams. It reminded me of my father's shell
shock, reactions of which occurred long after his war experiences.
* 88: German cannon, Luger: German pistol, 45: American pistol
Hal Bingham's military decorations: Bronze Star, Combat Infantry Badge, European Theatre Ribbon, World War II Victory Medal, Good Conduct Medal.
Hal is seeking a publisher for the second edition of his book Son of Bitche developed by Walsworth Print Group, Marceline, Missouri. The book contains important details and insights about the action of the U.S. Army's 100th Division at Bitche, France, during World War II. Hal can be reached by regular mail: 5000 SW 25th Blvd. #2104 Gainesville, FL 32608.
Air Force Physician and Korean War-Era Veteran
I left the Army as a PFC and joined the Army Reserve. Toward the end of my medical training, I switched to the Air Force. I served in the Air Force from 1954 to 1956, which makes me a Korean War-era veteran. My medical residency was paid for by the GI Bill. After graduating from the University of Kansas Medical School, I was commissioned a First Lieutenant in the Air Force and sent to Madigan Army Hospital in Fort Lewis, Washington. I was married by then. We got an invitation to a base party. It was from the General of the Hospital. Mary Ann didn’t want to go, but she knew we had to. It was the General’s invitation, like an order—you go. At Madigan I was put in charge of the female ward. A lot of dependants were there. Every third one had gonorrhea. That was higher than the venereal disease rate for GI’s in the Army of Occupation in Germany.
From Fort Lewis I was transferred to Dow Air Force Base in Maine. Soon after I arrived, the base CO called me in. He’d been looking at my record, saw where I’d drilled infantry troops. He said, “I want you to get all the doctors together and put them through close-order drills. They need some infantry exercise.” (Laughs) So I did. The doctors knew it wasn’t my decision; it was the CO’s.
Dow Air Force Base was under SAC [Strategic Air Command]. It was colder ’n hell, made refueling tankers a tough job. There were times when I thought if the Russians attacked we’d be in sad shape. Morale in the Air Force was OK, but it was nothing like Army Infantry. In the infantry, by God, they tell you what to do and you damn well do it. The Air Force was more laid back, less regimented. They made me a flight surgeon. I knew pretty soon I wasn't gonna like that much. I made damn sure all those enlisted guys saluted me. (Laughs.)
What were your duties as flight surgeon?
I dealt with pilot problems. I’d ground pilots for things like respiratory infections. They didn’t like it because grounding affected their flight status. I grounded about five or six pilots while I was there. I did a lot of tonsillectomies and adenoidectomies. I didn’t kill anybody, thank God. (Laughs) This work gave me the impetus to go into advanced surgery. The Air Force got me in the right direction.
Joseph Bradham and Mary Lou married in 1958 in Lakeland, Florida, and have three children. One, Joseph Bradham Jr., 49, is now serving his third tour in Iraq as an Air Force Reserve Major working on various projects. In October 1958, Mary Lou became ill. Medical tests showed that she had a problem that would prevent her from having children. Encouraged by Bishop John Branscomb, Methodist Bishop for Florida and Cuba, the Bradhams planned to do missionary work in Cuba. “In early 1959, [Mary Lou] went to the doctor and happily learned that a miracle was in place. She was expecting our first child. After explaining our plans of going to Cuba to the doctor, he strongly advised her against going because of the conditions there. After a considerable amount of thought and prayer, we decided that it would be best if I went alone and Mary Lou would stay in Lakeland to be under her doctor’s care. This also enabled her to continue working at her new job.”
Joe’s comments above come from a manuscript he wrote in the 60’s that eventually became Cuba: My Personal Reflections, a concise, colorful 19-page booklet (unpublished) put together by Mary Lou. Its cover shows the Coat of Arms of Cuba. Inside are pictures of Joe and Mary Lou as newlyweds, Fulgencio Batista, Fidel Castro, the Methodist Church Plaque, a map of Cuba, a Batista soldier in the act of gunning down two men tied to posts, Joe with tied hands being interrogated by Castro, Castro’s soldiers tying and blindfolding a man, and Mary Lou holding infant Joseph Hampton Bradham, Jr. After giving a brief history of Cuba, Joe writes at length about his experiences in Cuba from late April to late August 1959, including his sufferings at the hands of Castro and Batista forces. For example:
Persecuted by Castro and Batista
“After flying into Havana, I was met by Mr. Al Lopez with his wife and three children…They were all very nice and welcomed me with open arms. Mr. Lopez explained how he had been contacted by Bishop Branscomb from Florida and how grateful he was that I was willing to come to Cuba and help the people. After listening to Mr. and Mrs. Lopez tell about the tortures and killings and how devastating the conditions were all over Cuba, I felt that maybe I should go back home. But, after hearing all those terrible stories, it began to hit deep into my heart and soul…How could I say, “no”?....
“Mr. and Mrs. Lopez…were very active in the community, especially in their Methodist Church. He was an Electrical Engineer and many of his duties dealt with building businesses and helping them to grow. These were mostly with Batista’s projects and American companies. The Lopezes were among the rich and influential citizens of Cuba….They provided me with a vehicle and often went with me to help families in stressful situations throughout the area….
“I worked with families and especially children, who had lost their parents and family members due to torturing and killings going on all over Cuba. I worked mostly in and around Camaguey…Occasionally I went to Cienfuegos….Basically, I found the same terrible conditions in Cienfuegos as I had in Camaguey. Quite often I would find both adults and children lying dead in ditches and fields. What really hit me the hardest was finding people in wooded areas hanging by their feet from tree limbs…Just seeing them that way brought tears to my eyes. Quite often, I would find children hiding in a ditch or behind a building. I tried hard to round up some food and water for them. The next chore was to find some home that appeared safe and try to get them situated inside. It often took a lot of time and patience, but it was worth every minute to help provide safety for them….Even though there was the constant strife of torturing and killing going on everywhere, I was able to dodge a lot of it and survive. God was really on my side….
“Around the second week of July 1959, Castro and a small group of his men were making a full-force drive from East to West and came upon Camaguey.…Castro and his men captured the Lopez family, and since I was staying with them at the time, I was included with them. In order to force us to reveal that we were supposedly working with Batista, they dragged us outside in the front yard by some trees. They tied us up with wire and bound our hands behind our backs. As we were being questioned, the Lopez family said over and over that they were simply working to help the Cuban people and were strong, active church supporters. I stated that I was also there primarily to assist anyone who needed my help. Castro didn’t seem to believe us and would keep coming back probing us with questions. In his mind, he felt that we were Batista supporters. When we stuck to the truth, he became very frustrated with us. He then had his troops begin to torture us three adults by punching, kicking and slapping us until we almost passed out. That went on for two days. During that time, two of Castro’s men took Mrs. Lopez into the house and kept her there for several hours. We could hear her screaming. When they brought her back out, she was piteously slumped over. They turned to Mr. Lopez and asked if he wanted to see more of this go on with the rest of us. Mr. Lopez stated that he was not pleased with what they were doing, but stuck to his reply of only trying to do good for others. When they came to me, I, too, stuck to my reply.
"During interrogations conducted by both Fidel Castro and Batista's men, pictures were taken and distributed throughout the area to show people what would happen to them if they didn't join each respective side. After I left Cuba in 1959, I remained in contact with some families there until 1962 when Castro forbid Cubans to have any contact with Americans. Before the ban on American contact, one family sent me pictures and information which included this picture taken while I was being questioned by Castro. The family thought it strange propaganda that I was referred to as a farmer who had been killed right after the questioning.
Joe Bradham (far left, hands tied behind his back) interrogated by Castro (center, head tilted) and his henchmen
“Having no luck getting a confession from us, the men began torturing the children to force us to say what they wanted to hear. We still refused to change our responses. Three of the men then took the 12-year-old girl with her hands bound behind her and sat her in front of us. They took a metal file, which is normally used to file metal objects, put it into her mouth and pressed her mouth closed. They began to pull the file in and out which caused extreme pain for the poor suffering girl. They felt that her screaming would make us change our responses. After several hours of torture, the little girl died.
“Castro was not at all pleased that he wasn’t able to break us down so he gave orders to continue the torture. Another day was spent torturing all of us and finally, Mr. and Mrs. Lopez were stabbed to death. That really threw me into turmoil because I expected that I would be killed, next. Castro was not comfortable with the power that Americans had in Cuba and since I was an American, he was very suspicious of me.
”On the fourth day, Castro and most of his men left, taking the two [Lopez] boys with them. Four men stayed with me for another day. They kept interrogating me….I kept to my story of trying to help people in need but they just laughed and taunted me….That evening they went inside and left me alone outside. Since my hands were tied behind me, I began scraping the wire against the rough bark of the tree. Soon, I was able to break the wire, untie myself, and get loose….I was quite stiff but after a little stretching, I was able to move slowly. It felt really good to escape from that yard and to be free.
“After escaping, I walked down the road until I had the good fortune to find a bike. I jumped on it and rode as fast as I could pedal. I traveled mostly by night. During the day, I would try to keep myself safe in wooded areas and unoccupied buildings. Getting food and water was sometimes difficult, but I did okay. I even found some people with whom I had previously worked. They helped feed me and provided me with a place to rest and get cleaned up.
“It took me about three or four days to arrive in Cienfuegos…. I was captured by Batista’s men. They immediately started questioning me….I tried to explain why I came to Cuba and that I would never harm anyone. They laughed and said that something didn’t seem right to them. They began to slap and punch me in order to get me to tell them the real reason I was there. They felt I was there to help Castro take control from Batista. Even though Batista had left Cuba for his safety, his followers were determined to win back his power from Castro….After a bit of conversation among themselves, they decided to take me down the road and put me in a chicken coop where they could keep an eye on me….The wire chicken coop…was just like the kind my mother had for her chickens when I was growing up on a farm in Georgia. I remembered how fragile the wire was and how easily it would break.
“By day, the men pressured me with continuous interrogation but at night, I was pretty much left alone. Cautiously, I started to move a strand of chicken wire back and forth until it broke. I continued this over and over leaving some strands in place which helped the entire area to appear untouched. I did this in the rear where they didn’t notice it being broken. Then one night, while the guards were asleep, I finished breaking the wire sections that remained and slipped out. I was able to quietly sneak away. Somehow, I managed to find another bike but at this point I was exhausted, so I quickly found a hiding place to rest for a few hours. I was able to get some needed water but no food.
“As I was leaving Cienfuegos, I located a couple of families that I had visited a few weeks earlier….Feeling badly about what I had gone through, they helped me to get cleaned up and provided me with some good food to eat. They wanted me to stay with them a bit longer, but I explained how I was very worried about my wife and our unborn baby….They understood how I felt and offered to help me any way they could. They even offered to take me by car to the Havana Airport….I couldn’t allow them to risk their lives….I thanked them and left on the bike for Havana.
“As I was riding along, I could hear shots and bomb blasts all around. That made me even more nervous, but I felt I must continue the best way I could to get home to my sweetie and our future little sweetie. As I neared Havana,…I began to think how blessed Mary Lou and I were that we made the decision for her to stay home and for me to come to Cuba alone. The good Lord sure helped us to make the right decision….
“After a few nights of riding in the darkness, I arrived at Marianao just East of Havana…I was captured again by Castro’s men….Castro was not with them….Once again, I tried to explain that I was there to help anyone in need. They didn’t believe my explanation….Hearing them talk about contacting their “boss” made me very nervous….Finally, they took me to an abandoned building not too far from the Havana Airport where they locked me in a closet.
“After a few days in the closet, I desperately tried to convince them that I was hungry and thirsty. They did get me some food and water and let me go to the bathroom….The closet door had a drop latch outside that was keeping it closed. The door also had some small slats about an inch wide. I groped around inside the closet and found a wire clothes hangar underneath a low shelf. Then one night, I was left alone after I heard the guards complaining about being hungry. Normally, when they went to eat, all four or five of them would leave together and be gone for over an hour. While alone, I was able to stick the wire outside one of the slats and release the latch. For the third time, I got away!
“….Thinking about Mary Lou and wanting to get home kept me going. Giving up was not ever on my mind. Remembering how tough times were for me growing up on a farm in Georgia during World War II, and trying to overcome my personal handicap of deafness at that time, seemed to inspire me to keep going as long and as strong as I could….
“I was able to find an abandoned building right near the airport….My deepest wish and desire at this point was to get on the first plane headed for Miami….My plan was to try to get aboard without being seen. A couple of hours before the plane was due to leave, a group of men came out and began shooting at the plane until it blew up. The terror didn’t slow down at all. The next morning, a small ten passenger plane due for Miami was shot down during take-off, killing all aboard….I kept looking and listening from my hiding place, slipping in and out to find something to eat and drink. Then, one afternoon, I overheard someone saying that a four engine Constellation plane sitting on the flight line would be leaving for Miami the next day….During the night, when everything had closed down, I slipped out and boarded the plane. I searched around inside looking for a safe place to hide until the plane took off. I finally found a space in the cabinet under the sink in the plane’s small bathroom. At that time, I only weighed about 135 pounds, so I was able to fit snugly in there.
“Around noon, I heard people begin to board the plane and the engines started up. My heart began to flutter. I was on my way home to Mary Lou. The plane began to taxi, and as it started to take off, shots were heard. The plane took continuous sprays of bullets but it soared upward to safety…I was getting very stiff and tired, so I decided to take a chance and come out of hiding. The people on board were mostly Americans so I fit in okay. In about an hour, we landed safely at Miami Airport….[A]fter stepping off the plane, my disheveled appearance didn’t stop Mary Lou from running over and giving me an extremely welcome hug and kiss. It sure did feel good….Mary Lou and her friend Jean, not knowing when I would be coming home, had been going to the airport every day for a month to meet every incoming plane from Cuba. We stayed in Miami for a few days with our dear friends, Jean and Jesse. We also were able to visit the Methodist Church that I had attended for three years while I lived in Miami before going away to college….”
In the last three pages of the booklet, Joe tells about his life before and after his time in Cuba and about Castro’s take-over of Cuba and reactions of the Eisenhower and Kennedy administrations to the Castro regime. Before going to Cuba, Joe had finished three years of a Methodist Church-sponsored scholarship to Florida Southern College in Lakeland where he met Mary Lou. But after returning from Cuba, he couldn’t afford to finish college because of mounting expenses and a new baby on the way. He looked into joining the Air Force, aced their recruiting test, and was impressed with their benefits. “The Air Force would pay for the birth of our first child and offer tuition assistance so I could finish my college degree. At the end of September 1959, I entered the Air Force and was sent to San Antonio, Texas for basic training. Joining the Air Force was the best decision we made.”
In 1982 Joe retired from the Air Force with the rank of Senior Master Sergeant. From June 1967 to June 1968 he was in Vietnam during some of the war’s heaviest fighting. I met with Joe twice at his Oak Hammock home and he gave me the following account:
Surviving Vietnam
I served as a communications specialist. My main post was Tan Son Nhut Air Base. My job required me to go to different places in country and set up telephone communications. I worked with the Army, Navy, Air Force and Marines. Normally on these operations we had a couple of jeeps and a truck. Our small group included a South Vietnamese captain, Captian Cuong. We got to be good friends and he invited me to meet his family during the Tet holiday. I went to Saigon on January 30, 1968. Around midnight the place lit up. The VC sent in 122 millimeter rockets in threes. This went on from midnight to three or four in the morning. The VC had posted themselves at a stadium near our air base. They melted into the population. Man, they got really active in Saigon. I was right in the middle of their Tet Offensive. Didin't get back to base till the next day! I had to walk back because I'd lost my jeep. The colonel called me in and I briefed him, and he sent me out on another mission.
Joe Bradham and Captain Cuong
At the time it was the rainy season and the mosquitoes were terrible. Our planes came over and started spraying. We thought they were spraying mosquitoes. Turned out they were spraying Agent Orange! I’ve broken out in rashes ever since, like this place [Joe pulls down his shirt and shows a glaring reddish-brown splotch almost the size of a quarter on his upper chest]. I still break out. The VA’s been treating me. A nurse practitioner sent me to a VA dermatologist, Dr. Nelson. He froze off my skin rash. I’ve been putting on lotion for about 20 years.
I was constantly involved in dangerous situations. I usually went to small posts. North of Saigon I had to go across Monkey Mountain. Monkeys are a favorite food of the Vietnamese. There were many VC in these areas. We’d be driving along and see babies rigged up. It was the VC’s way of trying to get us to stop and ambush us.
In December ’67 Bob Hope came to Bien Hoa, a town about 30 miles north of Saigon. Three of us were driving back after seeing Bob Hope. Normally I rode in the back of the jeep. I was tired and this man I was with asked if I wanted to sit in the front and stretch out. So we switched places. There was very heavy traffic. Suddenly I heard shots; they were coming from the woods, about 100 yards away. Suddenly there’s blood all over us. The guy sitting in back took a bullet in the head.
The VC liked to hit us at night. One time early in the morning I was in the top bunk of our barracks, 4th one down. My bed springs were loose; the mattress was up around me. A rocket hit the end of the barracks. It blew me out of the bunk. What saved me was the mattress; it caught shrapnel. This piece would’ve gone right in me. [Joe shows me a shrapnel piece, apparently lead and about 1½ square inches.] It was a 122 mm rocket—killed four of my buddies.
After losing our barracks, we went to the chapel on base for a place to sleep. They were having a service in there. There was a building about 50 feet from the chapel. Since it was time for bed, we took our mattresses and spread them out on the floor of this building. About 1:30 in the morning in came the rockets. One blew up the chapel.
The VC used all kinds of tricks to try to kill us. We had a shower next to our barracks. The shower was like an outhouse we had on the farm in Georgia. This guy asked if he could go ahead of me and shower. I said okay. I heard a scream and a crash. One of the Vietnamese workers had wired the shower. When the man turned it on, he was electrocuted. VC women posing as workers and friends would come on base with grenades in their vaginas. They’d put grenades in our beds. A man’s weight on the bed pulled the pin and the grenade exploded.
When we were studying 20th century culture in my college humanities class, students who were Nam vets would sometimes tell their experiences. One student told about VC women working as prostitutes with razor blades in their vaginas and luring GIs. You ever hear that?
Oh yeah!
Mary Lou: How did the women keep from getting cut?
I don’t know, but I heard that went on.
I’ll never forget the reactions of some of my students when the vet told about the razor blade tactic. One woman ran out of the room and got sick. It worried me that some reports from veterans were getting too graphic. The 20th century with all its wars and violence was not a pretty time. We have a duty to learn about these things and work for peace. As an educator, you take risks that way.
I remember coming through the gate one time and seeing this Vietnamese guy talking to the guard. Usually South Vietnamese soldiers wore shiny boots, but this man had sandals that looked pretty worn. I got suspicious. I called the guard gate and asked them to check this guy out. They found 6 grenades taped on him.
The VC liked to hide in the tall grass around the base and pitch grenades at us. I suggested to the colonel that we burn all this grass. He said, “Go ahead.” We set fires all the way around and found 7 dead VC. Some had grenades and blew up.
I’m talking about some things I haven’t talked about in years.
Does it help you to talk about it?
Yes, somewhat! I still have nightmares about some of the trauma I went through. My son’s on his 3rd tour in Iraq. Knowing the danger he’s in doesn’t help my mental situation. I’ve filled out all kinds of VA forms. All they tell me is, “You’re okay. You’re doing fine.” But I still have problems.
Are you religious?
I feel I’m a religious man. I used to be a Methodist and Mary Lou’s always been Catholic. We’re both Catholic now. We go to mass at the VA chapel on Sunday afternoons. I’m not a drinker or a smoker. Guys would try to get me to drink with them. I never cared about drinking or smoking. I’d go along with them and usually have a 7-Up. I sometimes wonder how I’m still here after all I’ve been through. I credit my survival my whole life to the good Lord.
Mary Lou: And to his common sense.
Earlier you said something about a service decoration.
Yes. I got a Joint Service Commendation. The Air Force sent news of it and my picture to my hometown newspaper in Glennville, Georgia. My parents didn’t even know I was in Vietnam. I was sort of hoping to get in there and out so as not to worry them, but they found out when the news hit the Glennville paper. Boy, I sure heard from them then!
Mary Lou, what were you doing while Joe was in Nam?
Raising kids! I was living at Keesler Air Force Base. Joe and I wrote regularly. I stayed busy with the kids and I was teaching English at a high school in Biloxi.
Joe, you mentioned overcoming deafness. Would you tell a little about that?
I was three years old when it happened. My father kept an unloaded shotgun in the closet, but this time he unknowingly left a shell in it. I got curious and went to the closet and played around with the gun. It went off, blew a hole in the ceiling. I was deaf until I was 12. I had a hard time in school, but teachers helped me after school. Kids would taunt me and make fun of me. There weren’t any hearing or speech therapists where I lived. Just got by the best I could! When I was 12, I began to hear again. I guess growing up and my changing body enabled me to hear again.
Here are some things I brought home from Vietnam. These two swords and scabbards Captain Cuong made for me. His wife made this plaque for Mary Lou. It’s dark brown, almost maroon, hard wood. The metal parts are glued on. The title is on a strip of gold metal. Beneath it are American and South Vietnamese flags crossed to show our alliance then. The tribute to Mary Lou is on a gold metal plate; under it is my joint service decoration from the Defense Communications Agency of Southeast Asia Mainland. It shows13 stars around a gold eagle; the eagle stands on orange lightning flashes that are over a dark blue globe, symbol of the world.
WITH ALL MY LOVE
In recognition of Outstanding Performance Awarded to Mary Lou Bradham for her perseverance and devotion to duty in maintaining home and family during her husband’s tour of duty in Vietnam, June 1967 – June 1968, presented by her loving and grateful husband Joseph Bradham.
"They Remember War" Table of Contents
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