Thursday, December 1, 2011

JIMMY BEDGOOD



Being the Best He Could Be


Jimmy Bedgood knew in his mind that he would never celebrate his sixty-fifth birthday last weekend. He knew that he was going to die. And, if he did, he was going to die for his country so his brother wouldn't be killed in the jungles of Vietnam. This is the story of an outgoing, young country boy who always tried to be the best he could be in the finest tradition of the United States Army.

The first Monday in May 1968 was a cool mid-spring day in Dublin. Astronaut Neil Armstrong, still 14 months away from being the first man to set foot on the moon, was nearly killed while flying a lunar landing trainer. Bobby Goldsboro's Honey was spending its 5th week at the top of the Billboard Hot 100 chart. Dublin teenagers were listening to the Box Tops, Gary Puckett and the Beatles. The duo of Simon and Garfunkel held down the top two slots on the LP album charts. The Braves lost to the Pirates, 2-1. Newsweek's cover story featured students protesting the war in Vietnam. Most households in Laurens County were tuned to Gunsmoke, Andy Griffith, and The Monkees. Audrey Hepburn was terrified in Wait Until Dark on the giant screen of the Martin Theater. Edward Alligood and James Malone led the Dexter Hornets in defeating the baseball team from Twiggs County. The City of Dublin actually lowered natural gas rates upon a motion by Councilman Junior Scarboro.


Meanwhile in Vietnam, the Viet Cong were launching guerilla attacks throughout the Vietnamese capital of Saigon. One hundred and six young American men died on that single day. United States Army Staff Sergeant Jimmy Bedgood, Service Number 14875003, was one of them. More than fifty thousand American service personnel in all died before the fighting stopped. You can find his name on Panel 55E, line 39 along the bottom of the Vietnam Wall in Washington, D.C.

Jimmy Bedgood, son of Fermon Bedgood and Louise Purvis, was born on May 20, 1946 in Wrightsville, Georgia. Jimmy, a highly intelligent young man, skipped some courses in school. In speaking of her highly industrious son, Mrs. Purvis said, "I didn't have to support him financially. The spiffy, organized, and picky teenager worked hard and bought everything he needed for school." Jimmy played football at East Laurens High School, graduating from there in 1964. Al Manning remembered Jimmy as a young man who wanted to do the best he could do at everything he did. "For a relatively small teenager, he could hit you very hard," Manning also recalled.

Clinton Lord often double-dated with Jimmy and a girl friend from Dublin. Lord asked the girl's father about letting her date Jimmy. When Clinton issued an unequivocal endorsement of the guy everyone liked and admired, the reluctant parent readily approved the date.

"After graduation, Jimmy Bedgood went to work at Central State Hospital in Milledgeville to work with teenagers with alcohol and drug problems," said his mother, Louise Purvis. "His employers were impressed with his grades and his ability to work with people his own age," his mother added. Bedgood entered the Army in December 1964. After training at Fort Jackson in South Carolina, he was transferred to Fort Hood, Texas, where he remained until his first tour of duty in Vietnam. Soon Bedgood was assigned to the "Big Red One, " the First Division of the United States Army.

On June 14, 1967, while leading a five-man long range recon patrol, Sgt. Bedgood sensed the presence of the enemy and halted his squad just before crossing a stream. Instantly the sergeant saw a ten-manViet Cong patrol approaching his position. After arranging his men for a fire fight, Bedgood called in helicopters to pin down the enemy while he and his men made it to a landing zone and safety. As Bedgood and his men approached the landing zone, they encountered another enemy patrol and engaged and wiped out the force with no American casualties. For his heroic actions, Sgt. Bedgood was awarded the Bronze Star.

On another occasion, Bedgood was serving on a stay behind patrol when he and his men came under a vicious attack just after dusk. With complete disregard for his own personal safety, Bedgood exposed himself to a hail of fire to reach a machine gun emplacement. Bedgood stood up straight and began firing directly in the direction of the incoming enemy fire, eliminating the threat to himself and his men. In awarding another Bronze Star Medal to the Staff Sergeant, the United States Army cited, "His aggressiveness and quick thinking prevented extensive injuries to his men while driving out the enemy." The citation salutes Sgt. Bedgood for his actions which reflected great credit to himself and to the 9th Infantry Division.

In February 1968, just as the Tet Offensive was beginning, Sgt. Bedgood received his fourth bronze star for heroism. At least one of the awards carried a "V device" for unique valor. Also pinned to his chest were not one, but two, Purple Hearts for injuries received in the line of battle.


Jimmy Bedgood came home during a 30-day leave in late March 1968 after his second tour in Vietnam. Clinton Lord last saw Jimmy when he pulled his car into the White Castle Drive-In on North Jefferson Street. Jimmy told Clinton he was shipping out to Vietnam. Lord questioned his motive for going to Vietnam for the third time. Bedgood responded, "It is the promotions, I am going to make this my career." Bedgood told others that one of the reasons he was returning to combat was to try to insure that his brother, Robert Reynolds, wouldn't have to go. Lord remembered his friend saying, "Being in the army is great and it brings direction to my life." Bedgood naturally relished the higher pay that combat soldiers received.

When Jimmy came home for the last time, he brought with him one of his best dress uniforms. He replaced the regulation brass buttons with shiny silver ones. He sewed on shoulder patches of the 1st Infantry Division and the 1st Armored Division. Jimmy placed the suit in his mother's wardrobe where it remained until recently when the uniform was turned over to Commissioner Buddy Adams, Laurens County's curator of military memorabilia. "Jimmy wanted to be buried in that uniform, but I didn't know it." Bedgood told his family that he wouldn't be coming back. They hoped he was wrong. Bedgood's younger sister, Lorene West, loved her big brother. "He called me monkey," Lorene fondly remembered.

Gia Dinh, outside Saigon, Vietnam, May 6, 1968: When Bedgood returned to Vietnam, he was assigned to Co. C of the 52nd Infantry Regiment, a company of combat veterans working as security guards and assigned to the 716th Military Police Battalion. An agreement between the United States and South Vietnam prohibited the stationing of combat forces within Saigon. Only a small contingent of lightly-armed military policemen were allowed to remain within the city.

A Viet Cong squad attacked a bachelor's officers quarters on Plantation Road. An MP patrol responding to the attack was pinned down. Sgt. Bedgood was called to lead a reaction team to rescue them. Bedgood's team covered the trapped Americans until they escaped the ambush. During the attack, a rocket propelled grenade struck Bedgood's jeep, killing him instantly and wounded the other occupants. Nine soldiers of "C" Company lost their lives in defense of the Vietnamese capital. The company's valiant actions led to its award of a Presidential Unit Citation.

Staff Sergeant Bedgood was buried with full military honors in Andersonville National Cemetery. If you have never been there, you owe it to yourself to make the trip - especially on Memorial Day when the entire cemetery is covered with American flags placed on every grave. It will blow your mind. It will make you proud. It made me cry. I think it will make you cry too.

On this Memorial Day, let us all remember Jimmy Bedgood, the little boy playing in his overalls, the smart, hard-working teenager who always did the best he could do at everything he did, and the brave American hero, who gave his life so that all of us would continue to live in a free world.







MEMORIAL DAY


Gloria Richardson couldn't hold back her tears when she heard her brother's name mentioned during Memorial Day ceremonies Sunday afternoon at the Carl Vinson VA auditorium. In 1968, her brother Jimmy Bedgood was killed in action in Vietnam. The loss was compounded by the fact that she lost her personal guardian, one whom she could turn to in times of crisis. Her mother, Louise Purvis, had been at the ceremonies before. In fact, the Gold Star Mother has been present at every Memorial Day and Veterans Day service at the VA since 1968 with the exception of the time she was too ill in an
Augusta hospital.


A small group of family and friends of fallen heroes, along with the purely patriotic, gathered together on Sunday afternoon to pay homage to those American servicemen who gave their lives in defense of our country. Emcee Johnny Payne, a former combat veteran of the Vietnam War, welcomed the audience. Harriett Claxton, representing the John Laurens Chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution, led the recitation of the American's Creed and the Pledge of Allegiance. After Rhonda Hambrick sung the National Anthem, a combined honor guard of the Dublin Police Department and the Laurens County Fire Department posted the colors.

The keynote speaker was Dr. Steven Greer, of Eastman, Georgia. Dr. Greer is a professor of terrorism and security studies at American Military University and serves on the Center for Security Policy Military Committee in Washington, DC. Greer was a former special assistant to the Office of the Secretary of Defense and served as the only retired Non-commissioned Officer on the Secretary's Military Analyst Group. He served as a Senior Fellow at the National Defense Council Foundation conducting research on terrorism and briefed members of Congress on detainee policy issues.

Between 2003 and 2008 he gave more than 400 television and radio interviews on Fox, CNN and other national programs. A twenty-year Army veteran, Greer competed four times in the Grange Best Ranger Competition, the most physically and mentally challenging 3-day competition in the world. The son of an Army soldier served as a Ranger Squad Leader, Special Forces Weapons Sergeant, Special Forces Intelligence Sergeant, Special Forces A-Detachment Sergeant, Instructor at the Special Warfare Center, Infantry Company First Sergeant, Commandant of the Light-fighters School, and Command Sergeant Major for two light infantry battalions and one infantry brigade. At 33 years of age, he was selected as one of the youngest Sergeants Major in Army history.

"I think its encouraging that the seats aren't filled, because the reason that I and others went off to battle was so that we can do the things we enjoy doing in a free society," the former Sergeant Major said in commenting on the small crowd in attendance. "I was fighting so that I can come home and pitch with my son, do something with my daughter, hug my wife, grill or drive my pickup truck," said the veteran special forces expert. Greer reflected back on the twenty-one close friends he had lost in battle. "We are so fortunate that in this country that we have men and women of courage, character, and confidence to go to places like Afghanistan, Vietnam and Korea, Europe and France to fight for our freedoms," he added. Greer challenged the young members of the audience that none of things they enjoy today come from communism, totalitarianism, and dictatorships. "It only happens under democracy. Greer stated as he summed up his message by saying, "When you grow up do yourself a favor and serve your nation and serve well because it has served you. Do something for your country before we no longer have a country that will do something for you."

Greer reminisced about the friends he lost in Afghanistan, especially MSG "Chief" Carlson, a descendant of the Black Feet Indian tribe and the toughest soldier he ever met in the United States Army. Carlson, after 21 years in the Army as a Special Forces expert, volunteered to return to Afghanistan as a member of the CIA, only to be killed in the line of duty.

After the conclusion of Dr. Greer's remarks, Chandler M. Beasley, Sr. rose from his wheel chair at the back of the auditorium and carried a memorial wreath as he walked solemnly to the front of the stage. The former Marine and veteran of the Pacific Theater in World War II snapped to attention and saluted the memory of our fallen heroes, many of whom he had to leave behind on the island beaches and jungles of the Pacific. After the war, Beasley joined the reorganized National Guard Unit in Dublin and served for thirty-three years.

Refreshments were served by members of the First Baptist Church. On Monday afternoon at 3 p.m, a Moment of Silence was held, and the colors were retired. The National Moment of Remembrance was established in 2000 after a group of school children answered what Memorial Day meant to them by saying, "that's the day the pools open."

WILLIAM C. STINSON

"A soldier's soldier." That is what they all said about Lt. Col. William C. "Doc" Stinson, Jr., a native of Laurens County. Members of veteran's and patriotic organizations joined dozens of members of the Stinson family at the First Baptist Family Life Center on Memorial Day to honor the memory of Lt. Col. Stinson, a graduate of West Point, one of the first advisors to serve in Vietnam and one of the highest ranking officers to be killed in battle during the Vietnam War. His memory will be permanently preserved with the naming of the northern leg of the Highway 441 Bypass in his honor.

Last year, Laurens County Commissioner Buddy Adams launched an effort to honor the two-time recipient of the Silver Star, our nation's third highest award for heroism. Adams contacted state officials and worked diligently to make the project a reality. Later this year around Veteran's Day, the southern leg of the bypass will be named for Lt. Kelso Horne, one of the oldest paratroopers on D-Day and whose picture on the cover of Life magazine is still one of the most coveted by military collectors today.

Members of the American Legion, Veterans of Foreign Wars and National Daughters of the American Revolution were present as well as a host of family friends and patriots. The Laurens County Rural Fire Department, led by Dan Bray, the Official State of Georgia bagpiper, posted the colors. Mrs. E.B. Claxton, Jr., John Laurens Chapter, N.S.D.A.R., led the audience in the recitation of the Pledge of Allegiance. Elizabeth Holmes, a senior at Trinity Christian High School, sung a stirring rendition of the National Anthem. After a presentation of the life story of Col. Stinson by Scott B. Thompson, Sr., Clay Young, also a senior at Trinity Christian School, inspired those present with his performance of Lee Greenwood's, God Bless the U.S.A..

Mike Letson, a son-in-law of Lt. Col. Stinson, spoke on behalf of the Stinson family. He thanked Buddy Adams for hosting and organizing the event. Letson told the story of a man, he never knew, but reiterated the universal adjectives which described him; courageous, caring, and dedicated. He told of his achievements during his career and that his father-in-law lost his life while rescuing his dead and dying soldiers. Letson spoke of the significant legacy Stinson left to his family by saying,

"He made a huge sacrifice in serving his country, in that he never knew his adult family. "I am sure that Col. Stinson is smiling down on us all today," Letson concluded.

Col. Ray Battle, a classmate of Col. Stinson at West Point, spoke of his days at the Academy with his friend. Before beginning his remarks, Col. Battle recognized the veterans and current members of the armed forces present in the audience.

Battle stated that if he ever wrote about a book about his friend, he would call it Born To Be A Soldier. Battle stated, "It was two young boys from Dublin, Georgia confined to a prison with gray granite walls right in the middle of Yankee land where they taught us everything we did except to pray in their bunks at night."

Stinson and Battle became close friends in same company at Camp Bunker. He remembered the time when he and Stinson learned of the elder Stinson's capture by the enemy in North Korea. Battle continued, " Doc made a friend of all who came his way. He chose to be an infantry officer. His oustanding career was cut short when he was attempting to rescue his men." .





In the beginning of their senior year, Doc volunteered to be a cheerleader for the Army football team. "Back in 1949, men played football and women were cheerleaders," Battle quipped. Battle asked his friend, "What in the world you doing this for?" To which "Doc" responded, "Ray, it is like this: Army is going to play Georgia Tech in Atlanta this year and I will travel with the team. When I get there, Mildred will be there." Battle smiled. Upon graduation Doc and Mildred were married in the chapel at West Point.

Battle hoped, "I wish there was a way to put on that sign, 'Lt. Col. William "Doc" Stinson and family,' because their sacrifice is very real." "Doc Stinson was born to be a soldier. He lived a soldier's life. And, he died being a solider." And, what a magnificent soldier he was." one of Stinson's oldest and dearest friends concluded.

All eyes turned to stage left as Lt. Col. Stinson's first cousins, Buddy Adams and Jimmy Stinson, unveiled one of the official state highway markers which will be put in place on Tuesday. Adams made special arrangements to have four smaller versions of the sign, which he and Jimmy Stinson presented to the Colonel's widow, Mildred Stinson, and his daughters, Dawn, Leigh, and Katherine, along with seven grandchildren, one great-grandchild and a host of other relatives.

The colors were retired to the hauntingly beautiful Amazing Grace and God Bless America. Promptly at three o'clock during the reception, members of the American Legion called for a moment of silence as the crowd paused for the National Moment of Remembrance while bagpiper Bray played taps.

After the meeting, Mrs. Stinson spoke of her husband fondly, "I told him not to go to combat in Vietnam, but he went away." She remembered the good times she and her husband had during his military career. "Some people didn't enjoy it, but we did. We got to meet a lot of people from different backgrounds. My husband never met a stranger," the native of Glenwood and former resident of Dublin concluded.

Photographs of ceremony by Kathy Thompson.


KENNETH HODGES


There was a time when many people in the United States of America turned their backs on Kenneth Hodges. But, there has never been a moment in the last forty eight years when Kenneth Hodges ever dreamed of turning his back on the United States of America. Called a “baby-killer” and a “murderer,” Kenneth Hodges had good reasons to feel anger, to furiously lash out at those who assaulted him with hate and looked away in pathetic apathy. Instead, Kenneth Hodges sought out a higher power, one who gave him a special mission to serve his country. And, thirty seven years later, he is still carrying out that personal mission with eternal pride and with gracious honor, giving back to those veterans who have also served our country.


AN HONORABLE WAY

As Kenneth Hodges walked off the stage with his diploma from B.D. Perry High School in his hand, he knew that serving in the military would be an honorable way. He had an uncle, Hubert Mathis, who had been in the Army. He thought to himself that he wanted to make the military a career. So, he enlisted in the Army, just three weeks after graduation in 1963.

His values of country, honor, and doing right had been ingrained into Kenneth since he was a young boy by his mother, Mrs. Pauline Mathis Hodges, and his father, J. Richard Hodges. Mrs. Hodges began her teaching career in one-room school houses. In her thirty-five years of teaching school, Mrs. Hodges taught in churches which were specially outfitted for classes and the old Buckeye Junior High School, before teaching at B.D. Perry School on Highway 319. Mrs. Hodges ended her career as a teacher at East Laurens Primary School in the early 1970s.

Kenneth entered the infantry and was assigned to Charlie Company, 1st Battalion, 20th Infantry Regiment of the 11th Brigade of the 23rd (Americal) Division. As one of the division’s crack units after training at Schofield Barracks in Hawaii, the 20th regiment was sent to the Province of Quang Ngai, one of the most pro-Viet Cong provinces of South Vietnam.

The Americal Division had taken many casualties since its arrival in November 1967. As many as one third of the losses came from booby traps and mines, many of which were set by civilians sympathetic to the Viet Cong cause.

Charlie Company suffered its worst casualties on February 25, 1968. Captain Ernest Medina was awarded the Silver Star for his actions in rescuing his men. Medina and many field grade officers demanded that their men keep up an all out attack on the Viet Cong and their sympathizers. Regimental planners formulated a plan to clear the villages of My Lai of all Viet Cong.

March 16, 1968: Hodges recalled, “The morning of the 16th started early. The mood was sort of somber, but there was an edge of excitement.” Hodges said in a 1989 Frontline documentary, “We knew we were going into something big and we were gonna deal with them.” Normally a rifleman carried 180 rounds of ammo. Hodges remembered, “We were instructed to pack a triple basic load of ammunition. So we were expecting great resistance in that village.”

Hodges and the other squad leaders were guiding their men into position to move out. “It was quite clear that no one was to be spared in that village, Hodges said, “The orders meant killing small kids, killing women, because they were soldiers,” he added. The men of Charlie Company knew that refusing to carry out an order could result in punishment. Twenty-one years after the incident, Hodges recalled, “If one of my men had refused to shoot, I shudder to think what have been the repercussions. It's hard to say now what I would have done, looking back. At the time that it actually happened, he would have been in serious trouble.”

In justifying his actions at My Lai, Hodges, in the Frontline documentary, said, “As a professional soldier, I had been taught to carry out the orders and at no time did it ever cross my mind to disobey or to refuse to carry out an order that was issued by my superiors.” His soldiers were trained that way. “It's either you or the enemy, and the people who were in that village, the women, the little kids, the old men, were all considered the enemy,” he said. Sgt. Hodges taught his soldiers how to deal with the enemy when they came face to face with him. “They are trained to be killers,” he added.”

In a 2010 American Experience documentary, Hodges, some forty-two years after My Lai, maintained that he and the others were following orders. “You train a man to soldier, you take him out of civilian life, you teach him to be a soldier, you train him to follow orders, you express to him the importance of following orders, and you train him to kill,” the former sergeant maintained.

“After the My Lai operation and we returned to base camp, Captain Medina told us do not answer any questions from anyone, news reporters or anybody else, about this last mission,” Hodges remembered. “Other units had experienced similar things, they had carried out similar operations. For some reason or another, it started off with a soldier sharing something with someone else who wasn’t there. And, that person sharing it with someone else, who happened to be a friend of that guy. It sort of mushroomed from there and then someone decided that his conscience won’t let him rest until justice was done,” he added.

Charges of murder and rape were lodged and dismissed against Sgt. Hodges. Lt. William Calley, the platoon commander, was the only person found guilty in the action at My Lai. None of the field grade officers who planned the operation were ever charged. Despite the fact that he was cleared, the United States Army discharged Sgt. Kenneth Hodges from the service.

Kenneth Hodges desperately wanted to remain in the Army and serve his country. After he got out of the service, Kenneth lived in Columbus, Georgia for a couple of years. Those years were spent hoping against hope that the Army was going reinstate him and take him back in. With the help of a lawyer, Frank Martin over in Columbus, Hodges took his case all the way to the Supreme Court. “But, I lost out,” the ten-year veteran looked back.

Hodges believes there is still a segment of society that Vietnam still rests on their minds. Not just the veterans, but people who are just ordinary citizens. “The full story, the incidents which led up to My Lai - a lot of people don’t talk about them, because a lot of people don’t know about them. As I relate the story to people, they say, “I didn’t know all of that took place. I never heard that.” Because, what happened before would shed a lot of light on why things went down like they did at My Lai.”





THEY CALLED THEM THE DREGS OF SOCIETY


“With the things that I went through and after and during the trial, I was recommended for a general court martial. It did not go that far. During that period, it was pretty dark. “Public sentiment turned, it was already out there, Vietnam vets were baby killers and more or less dregs of society,” Hodges expounded.

Hodges’ unit was considered the best of the brigade in their training operations in Hawaii, so much so that they were the advance party to go over first. Hodges said, “Once the news came out a year and half later, even the army said we were undertrained and undereducated. Which was hardly the case. We had been undereducated. Some of them did have low IQs. But that was not our fault, they were drafted. If you have ever seen the movie Forrest Gump, I saw first hand “Forrest Gump.”

Hodges was referring to Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara’s 100,000 project, in which the military openly ignored intelligence test results in drafting and enlisting soldiers. “These soldiers were good soldiers because of the repetition in their training. Tthey could pick it up. And, because they were of a simple mind, following orders was something they understood,” Hodges maintains. “So after their experiences in Vietnam, they had a hard time dealing with what they saw and what they experienced,” the former sergeant added.

In general, Hodges felt that many in the country turned their backs on the Vietnam veteran. He recalled the story, “When the news broke about the things, the trial, my mother, who grew up teaching school in Laurens County and on the east side of the river, was shunned. None of her friends, or so called friends, even called and offered words of encouragement or words of consolation. But a woman whom she had never met, a white lady, called and said, ‘I cooked a cake. I want you to put on a pot of coffee. I know you must be going through something now.’” It was those things that were “heartwarming, touching and uplifting” to Kenneth Hodges. Those were the exceptions, and not the rule.

One touching exception to that rule came during the holidays at the end of Hodges’ first of his two tours of duty in Vietnam. Hodges was returning home when he was at the Atlanta Airport awaiting a layover flight to Macon before taking a taxi to Dublin to surprise his family, who didn’t know he was coming home for the holidays. “While I was waiting for the plane to fly to Macon, I was browsing in one of the shops there and I came upon this one white couple and the lady greeted me. I was in uniform and we started talking. She said, ‘Are you in the army?’ Yes, I said. She said, ‘Well, where have you just come from, where are you going?’ I said, I am going home for the holidays. She said, ‘Where are you coming from?’ I said, from Vietnam,” he recalled.

“A look of surprise came over her and she excitedly said, ‘You are home from Vietnam?’ I said, yes. She called her husband over and she said, ‘Honey, this soldier returned from Vietnam and he is going to be home for Thanksgiving and for Christmas.’ He looked me in the eye and with tears in his eyes said, ‘Thank you for doing my part. I couldn’t go. I have health problems. I was listed and categorized as F4 - unfit for military service. Thank you for doing my part.’ He hugged me and his wife hugged me. That stands out as one of the high points of returning from Vietnam,” he concluded. Hodges recalled that other than a welcome from his family, there were hardly any welcome homes or any thank yous.



A NEW BEGINNING, A NEW MISSION




“One morning I woke up with a thought that I needed to find a new direction. I needed to make a new beginning,” Kenneth said as felt that his new beginning should be back in Dublin and that he could turn his life around at home. He was drifting, going no where in a hurry, dealing with alcoholism and his problems with the military. Hodges saw his problems were not being corrected and were not going to be corrected in Columbus. In early 1975, Hodges made a fateful decision, packed his bags and came home to find his new beginning. All he had was his family, himself, and his faith in God.

Hodges never gave any thought to working at the VA until he met Grady Phillips. Phillips asked Hodges had he ever thought about working at the VA hospital. “That’s when the light went on. I said, wow!. That’s a great idea,” Hodges fondly recalled.

He gives credit to those who stepped up for him and embraced him. One of them was E.B. Smith, the union president and a veteran. “He had no requirement to help me as I was a temporary employee. He was a caring individual,” Hodges added. Bob Willis was another who came to assist Hodges in his quest to become a permanent employee. Willis went to the director, Harold Duncan, and pleaded with him to give Hodges a chance.

Willis declared, “I wish we had hundreds of employees like Kenneth.” I was so impressed with him, I went to the Harold Duncan, the director, and plead his case for permanent employment. I told him that he wouldn’t regret it. In my years at the VA, Kenneth did an outstanding job and we never had any complaints about the way he did his job. He is a fine man.”

Hodges’ application was bogging down in the bowels of the bureaucracy. In the first round of testing he received a very low score. He had completed high school, a year of college and trade school. Hodges, naturally frustrated at the endless delays asked a VA official, “What am I supposed to do to make a living, rob a bank? I can’t get on at the VA. This is crazy!” Hodges grabbed some sheets of paper and wrote out his case. The official took them to the board and plead his case. With his veteran’s preference, Hodges scored a 99 and got a permanent job in housekeeping.

Working early on in the kitchen, the laundry, Hodges kept looking for a more fulfilling position. In late 1977, a job was announced on the board for a motor vehicle operator. “The more I dug into it, the more I learned what motor vehicle operators do. They transport patients, veterans to other VA facilities, clinics and nursing homes. And these veterans come from our service area, which includes 59 counties surrounding Dublin. The idea came to my mind that this was a way to reach other veterans who may be experiencing similar problems.” Hodges remarked. Not long after he got the job a Seventh Day Adventist minister, who worked in the laundry, kept telling Hodges, “That’s your job. God has work for you to do in that job.”

Hodges does the things he does for veterans because it gives him a sense of accomplishment. “It gives me a good feeling - a giving back to those who gave to me when I was coming along struggling. When I started at the VA, it was hard getting on permanently. I managed to get on to a temporary assignment, but getting a permanent assignment proved to be a challenge,” he maintained.

Over the last thirty-three years, Hodges estimates that he has driven more than one million miles in transporting veterans. “I had veterans usually going to Augusta or Decatur, two to three hours. I had them and I had their attention. They couldn’t get away. So they were trapped with me. I could talk to them. There were veterans who had similar problems to what I had, especially Vietnam veterans. Some of them were younger. Some of them were older. I saw that they were going through the same problems that I was going through with PTSD dealing with every day problems after you got back, still making adjustments from being in the war. It gave me a great opportunity. It still gives me a great opportunity, because now I am seeing younger veterans coming from Iraq and from Afghanistan. They are suffering from similar problems and I am able to share my experiences with them and what I learned about PTSD, and ways to deal with it and cope with it.” he said.

Hodges counts the number of veterans which he has helped to be in the tens of thousands. “I am interacting with them in someway, talking with them about different things, different aspects of their lives - the things that they are going through. The assistance that I give some of them is just talk and advice - some of them, just a listening ear,” he says.

During the period between 1982 to the early 1990s Hodges was on the road to Augusta everyday, sometimes twice a day and even three times in one day. “ One Saturday, I had a scheduled transfer. When I got back from that one, I had an emergency. When I got back from that one, I had another emergency. The other two drivers were out sick, so I drove 600 miles within a twenty-four period in three trips to Augusta.” he remarked.

Hodges also takes veterans to get their driver’s licenses and IDs. Although his primary mission is to make sure the patients get transportation for medical treatment he finds a lot of guys coming in with their pockets empty. With no public transportation available, he makes sure that veterans can take care of their of the business during their stay at the VA Hospital. He took one man out to get a driver’s license for his van. He got it even though he lost both legs and an arm in Vietnam. “That really blew my mind. He is a Vietnam veteran. He lost both legs and an arm. I saw him in Atlanta and he was driving,” he fondly recalled.

An old friend, whom Kenneth met at Fort Benning back in the early 70s, called him. He was crying. The friend had been receiving bad treatment from his co-workers. “He was on the verge of doing something foolish. He called me and said there was going to be homicide or a suicide. I don’t know which,” said Kenneth, who told his friend, “It sounds like PTSD has set in on you.” This was in the early 90s, the mid 90s. Today he is on the road to receiving the help that he needs and getting the counseling he needs for the PTSD as well as other physical problems.





GIVE AND YE SHALL RECEIVE


Time and time again in his life, Kenneth Hodges has seen that giving back to others brings blessings back to the giver ten fold. He does good deeds not for any hope of reward nor recognition. Not one to blow his own horn, Hodges related the story of a veteran who had been sleeping under a bridge for two months and drinking whenever he could. After deciding that the vet wanted to come in and get cleaned up, Hodges transported him from Augusta to Dublin to be admitted to the detox ward. “The clothes that he had a stench in them - you could hardly stand it riding in the van. When I got back to Dublin, I took all of his clothes, everything that he had, which was in two large plastic bags. I took it home and washed them, dried them, and returned them to him fresh,” he recalled.

Hodges realizes that there are many people around town who don’t seek or want recognition for the acts of charity and kindness. He tells the story of a young lady who worked at the VA. Her estranged boyfriend slashed all of her tires. Her fellow employees raised $270.00 to help her buy new tires. Kenneth picked up the phone and phoned a friend, who was a local tire dealer. He told the man of the lady’s predicament. The dealer said, “Kenneth, as I have always told you if you need anything call me.” Hodges told the dealer what had happened. He said, “You’ve got $270?” Hodges said, “yes.” The dealer said, “Let me call you back in five minutes.” “He called me in three,” Hodges said. The tire shop owner asked, “You’ve got $270 and you want these tires mounted and balanced?” Hodges told the man, “I know it is a tall request,” to which the dealer responded, “The cheapest tire I have got is $325 for the set and that doesn’t include mounting and balancing, but bring me that $270.”

That tire dealer, as you may have guessed by now, was Hodges’ fellow good deed doer, Scott Beasley of Duncan Tire Company. When asked about Kenneth Hodges, Beasley smiled excitedly and said, “ You mean Kenneth Hodges, he is Dublin’s hero! Beasley declared, “Kenneth Hodges has a heart as big as the helmet that the soldier’s wear.” Beasley remembered watching the American Experience documentary on My Lai when all of sudden he recognized his old friend. He exclaimed, “That’s Kenneth!,” as his heart swelled with pride and admiration.

Hodges remembered meeting a couple in Augusta while waiting to return a patient home. He had known them in the years in which they ran a variety store on I-16 in Dublin. The man was suffering from an aneurism. The lady was recovering from cancer. While the couple were in Augusta, they had a flat tire. The lady was trying to call for a mechanic to come and change or repair their tire. That’s when Kenneth Hodges stepped in.

The man told his wife to hang up the phone and that help was on the way. Puzzled, the lady responded, “They are here already here? I didn’t get a chance to talk.” The man said, “No, Kenneth is here to change the tire.” Kenneth refused the lady’s financial reward. When Hodges got back to Dublin, the couple had already called his supervisor, Freddie Smith. Smith told the chief, who within a matter of days, presented a “Caring Award” to Hodges. He had a choice between a meal for four at a Macon restaurant or a fifty-dollar savings bond. Hodges laughed, “I said, “I know how to cook, give me the savings bond!”.

The list of good deeds goes on and on. There too many to list and too many which have never been told nor were expected to be known or publicly appreciated outside of those who received his generous aid.


THE SWEET TASTE IS STILL THERE


Kenneth Hodges has been serving our country for more than two thirds of his sixty six years. And, he has no plans to stop any time soon. He has no goal of fifty or fifty-five years. “I tell folks when they question me about my retirement. It’s like a piece of gum that you stick in your mouth, the sweet taste is still there,” Hodges said.

On almost every morning, Kenneth Hodges stills looks forward to getting up and going to work, facing new challenges and meeting new people, talking to them and sharing his experiences, and trying to shed some light on how they can better themselves. He unequivocally stated, “There are lot more opportunities now for the Afghanistan and Iraqi veterans than there were for the Vietnam veterans.”

Kenneth Hodges relishes in doing what he can to carry out the programs that the VA has as well as his own program of assisting the veterans and encouraging them by giving them the courage to continue on with what they are doing. Hodges insists that the veterans whom he meets continue to get an education. He challenges them not to give up on their dreams. “If they have something they want to do, pursue it,” Hodges declared.

”They are more warmly received. And, that does not bother me. Some people have problems dealing with that, but that was another time and another place,” Hodges commented on how he and other Vietnam vets were treated four decades ago.

From time to time, Kenneth Hodges interacts with female veterans. Some of them have dependence problems, and sadly some of the women are homeless. To the young veterans from Afghanistan and Iraq, Hodges encourages them to seek a higher power. “If you don’t want to call it God, seek a higher power, like an AA commitment,” he tells young veterans. He shares with them his own guidance from God in overcoming his problems. “I looked to God for my guidance and to get to me through it,” Hodges asserted.





WELCOME HOME




There were no parades, no ceremonies, not hardly a single celebration when Kenneth Hodges and other Vietnam veterans came home to the United States. But, it is not too late to welcome those who served. Hodges, himself now finds himself instinctively thanking the Vietnam veterans he meets for their service to our country.

Just five years ago, Hodges, wearing a cap indicating the he was a veteran of the Vietnam War, was at a convenience store gassing up his vehicle. He noticed a young veteran in his late twenties. The young man walked directly toward him and looked him straight in the eye. He stuck out his hand and said, “Thank you for your service to our country and welcome home.” Hodges said, “I was shocked at his actions, and I said what did you say? I had to hear it again.” The young man repeated, “Thank you for your service to our country. Welcome home, Vietnam veterans didn’t get a lot of that” Hodges was so touched that he began to cry.

When he meets a Vietnam veteran because of his insignia on his cap or what he is wearing which sets him apart, Hodges will greet him, “I don’t have to know him. I will just walk up to him and extend my hand, shake his hand, and welcome him home and thank him for his service to his country,” he maintains as most of them have the same reaction that he did.

Hodges says that the citizens of our community can help veterans who are now returning by embracing them and welcoming them home. “Give them some support and listen to them. Some of them are reluctant to share their stories,” he says. As for himself, sharing his story is therapy. He feels that so many people are in the dark as far as the Vietnam veteran, what he is and who he is. “We are a cross section of society of that period. We are no more and we are no less than the others are. It’s just that we served in an unpopular war. And, when it was over, there was not a win involved. We sort of tucked our tails between our legs and walked off,” he concluded.



A BAD MOVIE


Kenneth Hodges has fought many fights in his life. And, like his second-cousin, six-time world champion boxer “Sugar Ray” Robinson, he has won most of them. In commenting on his struggles and the triumph of his faith, Hodges says, “Sometimes life is like a bad movie. You keep on watching it and hope it will turn out good.”

Kenneth Hodges never really liked bad endings. His sister, Frenchy Hodges, remembered the days of their youth when they and their siblings, Marva, Larue, and Joe Richard, Jr., were working in the fields along side their farmer father, Joe Richard Hodges, Sr. Frenchy, a nationally recognized poetess and story teller, often made up stories, some of which had sad endings. “Kenneth has always been a sensitive and caring man,” said Ms. Hodges. “When he began to cry after hearing my stories, I would say, ‘No, the story really doesn’t end that way,” and I would change the story to add a happy ending to cheer him up,” Hodges happily recalled.

Many years ago Hodges learned that words can hurt and words can heal. “A lot of times you don’t know the impact of what you do or what you say will have on some people. Sometimes you’ll never know,” he says. He was reminded about a story of a professor who assigned his psychology students the task of telling someone what they meant to them. As he rushed through his own busy schedule, the professor forgot that he himself was supposed to complete the assignment. He went to his son’s room and told him just how much he appreciated what his son had done to help around the house and how proud of him he was for his good grades and how much he loved him. The boy began to sob uncontrollably. When asked what was wrong, the son said, “Dad, I didn’t think you had even noticed me period, or even noticed what I did around the house. I didn’t think you even noticed my grades or anything I did in school. That was why tomorrow morning, I planned to kill myself.”

That story got Kenneth to thinking that sometimes you say things that are ugly or hurting to people that you want to strike out. And, they can really hurt people. It made him think the angry and bitter words should stop coming out of his mouth.

There was a period there when he could pass it out freely, especially if you crossed his path. “I tell the guys sometimes that I used to be a revolving SOB and I loved it,” Hodges admits. One guy said, “What is a revolving SOB?” Hodges said, “Any way that I turned, I was one. It was nothing that I was proud of.” After Vietnam, Hodges didn’t realize what Post Traumatic Stress Disorder was. “It manifests itself in people’s minds. One of the effects is anger and not necessarily at anyone or anybody. Just anger. But since I have been at the VA, I have met a half dozen people who have shared their stories about anger,” he said.

After listening to veterans, Hodges realized that he too had some of that anger. “I realized that the angrier you get, the more excited and the more you like it. And, that is dangerous. That’s a part of that transformation. I turned it around. I said, no, no, you don’t want to go back there,” he recollected.

Kenneth Hodges gives all the credit for turning his life around to God. “The Master, the man upstairs. He showed it to me and let me see it vividly, vividly. I said, no, no, I don’t want to go back there.” He urges all veterans to get help from the VA. He shares his story of overcoming turmoil in his life through his faith in God and his God-given love he has for his fellow veterans.

And today, you’ll still find Kenneth Hodges after almost a half century of serving his country, still serving the country and the veterans whom he never turned his back on. While not working at the VA on or the road, you may find him at home, doing what he loves to do, cooking a delicious meal and enjoying life with this wife Margaret. Sometimes he closes his eyes and watches himself starring in a bad biographical movie which is now showing the good parts. And, it looks like there will be a wonderful and oh so happy ending.


Welcome home, Sergeant Kenneth Hodges! Thank you for your service to our country.




















JOHNNY PAYNE















Many of you know John L. "Johnny" Payne. He has been a fixture in the religious,







military, civic, scouting, business, and athletic activities of Laurens County for most of his life. Those years he wasn't living here and contributing to our community, he was nearly half way around the world, serving our country in the jungles of Vietnam. What you may not have known is that his job was one of the most dangerous an infantry soldier could be assigned. He was the one walking in front of a jungle patrol, the one likely to make contact with the enemy first, he was walking point."







When Sergeant Johnny Payne was walking the point, he saw green, and more green. His eyes scanned the thick jungle paths of central Vietnam for venomous vipers, slithering serpents, essentially invisible booby traps, and the elusive Viet Cong, all the while enduring horrendous heat and monotonous monsoons, not to mention the loathsome leaches.





















A once famous psychic, Jeanne Dixon, predicted that Payne's unit would be wiped out in Vietnam. That very same unit had been wiped out, some ninety four years earlier. That outfit, Bravo Co., 1st Battalion, 7th Cavalry, fifth platoon was previously commanded by General George Armstrong Custer at the Battle of Little Big Horn in 1876. "We did have some contact that day, but there were no deaths, not even any injuries," Payne remembered.


















"I was very fortunate to have been born in Dexter and Laurens County, hunting and fishing," Payne asserted. " I could have had all the college degrees in the world and I could have been very skilled at reading maps, but that skill set of knowing your senses and the senses in your body came in good, " in commenting on how he was able to cope with the stress being the lead man in a jungle patrol.







As a platoon of less than thirty men moved out along trails or simply through dense trail-less jungles, one man was responsible for walking point. In Johnny Payne's platoon, the average life expectancy was from seven to ten days. The point man was usually the first person to make contact with an enemy sniper, a deadly mine or a booby trap.







Payne considering himself blessed, professed, "I wouldn't follow a trail, but we as a platoon would work off the old French trails which had a lot of movement on them." He always tried to walk through the dense jungles, stopping every once in a while to untangle himself from a "wait a minute" vine, which entangled in his uniform, his gear or his exposed skin.












"I really wanted to walk point because I felt comfortable doing it," Payne, two to three years out of high school, recalled. Walking point didn't make him proud, but he was more comfortable in the fact that some of his comrades came from New Jersey, the Bronx, Colorado and other places. Some had never fired a weapon. "I had an advantage. I walked point on my own for about five months. I pretty much volunteered," Payne added.







Crossing streams was especially difficult. At the point where the patrol was crossing, they were the most vulnerable to enemy fire. "When we got to a stream, we would never have more than one or two men in the stream when we were crossing it and then we would fan out right and left," Sgt. Payne believed as the reason his unit's casualties were kept to a minimum.










Payne soon realized that the hardest thing his unit could do would be called in to aid another unit in an existing firefight. He learned to instantly recognize and differentiate the reports of an AK-47 and an M-16. "As you got closer to the firefight, with the helicopters overhead, with the artillery support from an artillery base in the jungle or off the coast, you had to put all that into your perspective. Your senses and your ability to listen is just amazing," Payne asserted.












"Life in the jungle was a struggle, you didn't know if you would live to see the next day," Payne said. His unit would go out on patrols lasting from fifteen to twenty days, sometimes twenty-five days without a break. The unit was re-supplied every four or five days with food and if they were lucky, with treasured letters from home.







Every soldier had to adapt to the lack of sleep and the lack of food. Walking guard duty at night was expected of almost every member of the patrol. "We worked as a team, never in the same place every night," Payne said. "Once we hit the ground, your rank didn't matter. When the unit got to a camp site, everyone took part in setting up trip flares and Claymore mines along the perimeter, as well as guarding the forward and rear areas," he added.












Being in the jungle itself presented natural problems. "It rained every day at 4:00 p.m.  During the monsoon season, it rained twenty-four hours a day, all week long," Payne recalled.  He saw all sorts of animals that he never saw in the swamps of Rocky Creek back home in Dexter. There were cobras and bamboo vipers, too. He saw one of those little green bamboo vipers lying on his stomach one morning after waking up from a night's sleep.






Decent food was a treat. Payne remembered the Chinook helicopters dropping "Gaines Burgers," military lingo for some type of mystery meat molded into a burger. "I weighed 160 pounds, but while I was in Vietnam my stomach shrunk. When I got home, I am afraid that I disappointed my mama. She cooked a big bowl of chili. I was only able to eat half of it. I think she died believing that she had burned it or something," Payne recalled.












Payne got an unexpected break during one patrol. Carrying the rank of private first class early in his career, Payne began his first tour of duty in Vietnam on September 1, 1970. One day, he was ordered out of the jungle to appear before a review board. Appearing in his jungle fatigues and with no bath in at least ten days, Corporal Payne (far right)  was examined and sent back to the jungle that afternoon. "The next thing I knew, I was a sergeant," he recalled.







Losing friends is always hard. Johnny lost his assistant gunner while he was carrying a machine gun. Still today, some four decades later, Johnny gets a lump in his throat as he serves as a master of ceremonies to honor veterans who gave their lives to their country. Payne said, "I get emotional. I know that somewhere out there is a gold star mother who has lost her son."












Johnny Payne returned to the United States a year after he first arrived in Vietnam. He was proud to serve in the infantry. His return to the United States was all too typical of the way veterans from Vietnam were treated. Payne and his fellow soldiers didn't come up to the tarmac after their plane landed.







"There were people standing there. I really had no understanding of what they were going to be saying or doing. They were yelling at us, throwing rocks, spitting at us. It was awful to see that happening," he recollected. Payne was puzzled. "These people didn't know. They were yelling baby killers, which is what they had seen on TV," he added.



















Payne and his hero, his wife, Sue Ann



















Some people were supportive, but it took a while for Johnny Payne to once again be proud of serving his country. Today when he sees a Vietnam veteran with a cap on, he tells them that he was proud to serve with them. "Time has a way of healing thoughts. A lot of people thanked me, although some went to their graves with no thanks, except from their families," he added.







Payne says that our citizens should communicate with returning veterans. He says that all veterans are the same regardless of which war or actions they served in. "They don't want to be treated as heroes, but they do want to be treated as normal people. Don't look the other way, he requested. "The hardest of hearts needs love. It will either come in or come out," he asserted.



















Payne and the Moving Wall, Kathleen, Georgia












Payne says the cost of freedom is high. "It has been paid by so many people and it is an expensive one," he continued. "We had great needs for prayers, letters, care packages, and most of all, love and acceptance when we came home," he added. The mental anguish resulting from a war that was never won was compounded by the way in which Payne and his fellow veterans were received. "We quietly slipped back into society as quickly as possible. Only members of our immediate families seemed to share in the secrets of our own personal wars that would now begin. Our hearts had been broken and many of our dreams had been shattered," Payne proclaimed as he gave credit to the churches and God himself.







When Johnny Payne looks back on his service in Vietnam, he is honored to have been a part of it. In fact, our country recognized his heroism with the awarding of a Bronze Star for valor, although he does not consider himself by any means a hero.






Johnny Payne was one of the lucky ones. He beat the odds. And, all of us in Laurens County who have benefitted from his deeds of public charity and acts of volunteer service are lucky that he survived.



















When walking the point, Sgt. John L. Payne knew that God was there and that he could turn to Him for guidance. "There is no doubt in my mind, that God helped me not to get shot with as many firefights as I was in," he believes. In one of those firefights, Payne's helmet fell off and rolled away from him. Two hours later, he was able to retrieve it. Payne picked up his steel pot with its 19 holes, each put there by a pecking sniper believing there was a living skull underneath it. "It was divine intervention. God was looking after me for some reason," he said.






Welcome home Johnny Payne! Thank you for your service to our country.



























Walking Point (abridged)




by




Jim Northrup









His rifle was in perfect order,



he wasn't - fear, fear of not feeling fear,



the heat, mud, and mosquitoes



all addled his brain housing group



as he walked and thought along.







Thou shalt not kill,



that stuff didn't work here,



God must have stayed back



in the real world.







Is any of this real?



Is this a green nightmare



I'm going to wake up from?







He sang to himself as



his senses gathered evidence



of continued existence







His eyes saw, his ears heard,



his heart felt a numb nothing,



his mind analyzed it all



as he studied the trail







He amused himself as he walked along



the old story about bullets, Ha.



Don't sweat the one that's got your



name on it, worry about the one addressed:







To Whom It May Concern.



Movement!, something is moving up there!



Drop to the mud, rifle pointing at the unknown,



Looks like two of them, hunting him.







They have rifles but he saw them first.



Breathe, Relax, Aim, Slack, Squeeze.



The shooting is over in five seconds,



the shakes are over in a half hour,



the memories are over, never.