Most of us who served in the Armed Forces have experienced someone coming into the barracks late at night, noisy and drunk, keeping everyone awake. The individual or individuals might sing or slam lockers. There might be loud cussing or loud music. Regardless of what it was, it was always quite annoying and there were times people would confront the drunken individual. However, we soon learned that confrontation was counterproductive. Confronting usually prolonged the agony and even created the possibility of a fight. So when it did happen, it was usually best to put a pillow over your head and just hope that the person or persons passed out soon and without incident.

On Halloween night, 1968, while serving in Viet Nam, I awakened to the sound of loud angry voices. I heard my Platoon Sgt. Jay Hays exchanging words with Johnny Reaves, a helicopter crewman. Jay sounded angry and Reaves sounded out of it. But, as screwed up as Reaves sounded, I figured he’d obey Jay’s orders to get upstairs and turn in. It was late but I can’t be sure what time it actually was. I do remember being extremely tired. At the time, we were all flying long hours. We were out early, before dawn and Kelley and I were seldom back to the hooch before 10 or 11 at night. Sleep became quite important to us and on this night Reaves wasn't helping matters.

Following his initial confrontation with Hays, Reaves came up the stairs and passed by me on the way to his bunk.  However, instead of getting into his bunk, he began attacking his locker with his fists. “What the hell?”, I thought to myself. He was making an awful racket. Hearing it, Hays quickly ascended the stairs and approached Reaves. He told Reaves to settle down. Reaves pushed Jay back. I was surprised by his actions and wondered where this was going. I regret not going to Jay's assistance at that moment. It would have been a fight for sure but I'm sure we would have prevailed. It was so unusual to see a soldier in such defiance of a Platoon Sergeant that I was shocked and unprepared for what I saw. I guess we just figured Jay would take care of it. And Jay, seeing he wasn't getting any help from any of us, went back down the stairs. Reaves continued to unleash more anger. He knocked the locker over and punched it with savage fury. I sat up in my bunk and watched the rivets popping out of it. He was literally destroying it with his fists.

It occurred to me that he wanted his rifle. “Damn”, I thought to myself.  I called over to him to take it easy. I knew that if he got a weapon in his hands, the situation would become lethal. I thought about grabbing my M-14 but to be truthful, I was at a loss about what to do. I certainly couldn't see shooting the guy, one of my own platoon members, at least not at that moment. I just hoped he'd settle down, I mean this sort of thing happened occasionally. I thought that Hays had simply returned to his room and didn't know he had gone for help. And, while we were well trained and disciplined soldiers, we weren't trained or prepared to deal with one of our own guys going completely off his rocker. In fact, we usually just ignored it when guys let off steam. This was different though.

Reaves kept hitting his locker until it finally gave way. The side of it caved in and I realized my worst fear as I saw him pull his M-14 out of the locker. I couldn't just watch any longer so I swung out of my bunk and walked over to him. He was facing slightly away from me as I slowly approached him. When he heard me speak, he turned his head toward me. Our eyes met and at the same time I heard the magazine click into the weapon. At that moment, I knew I screwed up. I didn’t know what psychosis was back then but I know what it is now. He was out of it and the deranged look in his eyes told the story. I knew that Reaves was mean when he was drunk. He had a reputation for beating up downtown whores in Nha Trang and it was rumored he had even killed a civilian. But on this night, he wasn’t just drunk and I knew it. My mind raced, I was gripped with fear and I heard myself saying something like, “C’mon man, you don’t want to use that rifle, settle down man.” I don’t think he even heard me or at least it didn't even register.

He never took his eyes off me as he pulled the bolt back and chambered a round. At this point, I was sure I was going to get shot. I could read it in his eyes. His locker was laying on the floor between us so rushing him was out of the question. And, I knew I couldn’t make it to my rifle. "Be calm, back up, get to the orderly room", I thought to myself.  And I didn't want to call out and get anyone else involved. That's all we needed, a full magazine going off on full auto. I decided to slowly back off. I didn’t want to get shot in the chest or gut so as he raised the muzzle toward me, I turned and slowly walked away from him. Hoping he wouldn't shoot me, I turned at the top of the stairs and started down.

As I descended the stairs, shots rang out and hit me at the same time. I felt like I was hit by a freight train. The shots were deafening and the sound seemed to fill every pore in my body. The first round ripped through my right shoulder shattering my scapula and hitting my right lung. The second went through my left femur shattering it up close to my hip. The impact of his M-14 assault rifle was shattering. Other rounds were fired but luckily didn't hit me. I don’t know how many rounds he fired but Jay Hays recently told me it was a good burst. To this day, I remember hearing only two or three shots and being knocked to the floor with incredible force. I think I yelled something but I can’t remember what it was. Fearing he was coming to finish me off, I tried to get to my feet so I could flee. But, I fell back down as quickly as I stood up. Reaves appeared at the bottom of the stairs and walked toward me. I thought to myself, “This is it. He’s going to finish the job”. I looked directly at him, reached out to him, and asked him to help me. I think I said, "Help me man". He just scowled and sort of waved me off. Fortunately and to my surprise, he walked right by me and out the door. I prayed he’d keep going.

By now guys were jumping out of their bunks and coming to my assistance. Kato, a door gunner, made a frantic call to the orderly room over the intercom. Other guys gathered around me and tried to make me comfortable. There was blood and flesh all over the place, chunks of meat and bone covered the floor and stuck on the walls of the hooch. It was a real mess. I tasted foamy lung blood in my mouth but at that moment was more worried about Reaves returning. By now though rifles were loaded and guys were out looking for him.  I wanted him dead. At some point, Lt. Buck Yancey arrived on the scene, .45 pistol in hand, and told me that Reaves had been subdued. I felt relieved. Buck knelt beside me and comforted me as a Special Forces medic arrived. When the Special Forces guy arrived I knew I was in good hand medically but by now I was having some difficulty breathing and I felt very tired. Smitty, a fellow crew member, kept me awake by talking to me while the medic prepared me for transit. Everybody was great. Everyone took great care of me. The medic bandaged my wounds and I was then laid on the hood of a jeep and transported to the 8th Field Hospital in Nha Trang.

Since that night, I haven't had much use for Halloween, the 4th of July or other celebrations that call for fireworks or big crowds of people. I still love hunting and shooting although for a long time after Vietnam, I didn't. I stay well armed because I don't trust the police, homeland security forces or anyone else for that matter to protect me or come to my aid in a timely manner. It is reassuring to know they are there but I learned all too well that I am the first line in my own defense. I never want to be a victim again and I have learned that in order to survive, one must stay vigilant and be willing to take action. 

I have tried to take care of myself physically but after 34 years the old wounds are taking a toll. I have lost strength and range of motion in my shoulder and have severe degenerative bone disease in both my right shoulder and left knee. I have venous insufficiency in my left calf and have a history of blood clots thanks to a damaged vascular system. Oh well, we all get old I guess.

The thing that bothers me most about that night is that it all could have been prevented. The 1st Sgt., Ed Shortman, and others knew what was going on they did nothing. They knew Reaves was on a rampage. They could have called the MPs or gotten weapons and stopped Reaves well before the shooting. But they didn't. It was the First Sgt.'s responsibility to do something and to handle situations such as this. It wasn't until John Holt, Buck Yancy, and an Air Force MP swung into action that the situation came under control.

I am grateful no one else was shot but I have also regretted leaving my unit especially since I had already extended my tour for an additional six months. I had learned to love my job and felt a great sense of camaraderie with the pilots and crews of the 281st. Also, I was really looking forward to the next Project Delta mission which was coming up soon. I felt cheated. I was extremely lucky to fly with such great pilots and two great crew chiefs, Ken Embrey and Sonny Kelley. And while I may from time to time question why things happened the way they did, I know that things happen exactly the way they are supposed to happen. I am grateful to be alive and I am grateful to have served with the 281st.

Written by

Paul J. Greiner            All Rights Reserved