Charlie Deppen Memorabilia
Letters Written by Charlie Deppen
This is excerpts from a letter Charlie Deppen wrote to his mother and father dated June 11 and 12, 1969.
Right now I am sitting on a hill overlooking the Redball (Highway 1). Last night we saw about fifteen enemy in the open and called in artillery fire. I don’t know yet if we got any of them. The worst thing about this action is the waiting and the boredom, and the insects and heat don’t add much.… By the way, I thought of something you could send me in your letters. Since the water here usually tastes pretty bad, some pre-sweetened Kool-Aid would help. If you would put about two packs in each letter, I would appreciate it.
… I had to go on patrol so I could not finish the letter yesterday.… Dad, your letter of June 3 gave me food for thought. It’s good to know that loved one's are thinking of you and this case is no exception. I will try to hang in there like you did. Right now I’m trying to make a big decision which would mean a change of MOS for me. Whatever I decide I will have given it due thought. So just hope to make the right decision. …
Right now I am sitting on a hill overlooking the Redball (Highway 1). Last night we saw about fifteen enemy in the open and called in artillery fire. I don’t know yet if we got any of them. The worst thing about this action is the waiting and the boredom, and the insects and heat don’t add much.… By the way, I thought of something you could send me in your letters. Since the water here usually tastes pretty bad, some pre-sweetened Kool-Aid would help. If you would put about two packs in each letter, I would appreciate it.
… I had to go on patrol so I could not finish the letter yesterday.… Dad, your letter of June 3 gave me food for thought. It’s good to know that loved one's are thinking of you and this case is no exception. I will try to hang in there like you did. Right now I’m trying to make a big decision which would mean a change of MOS for me. Whatever I decide I will have given it due thought. So just hope to make the right decision. …
This is a letter from Charlie Deppen to his mother and father dated June 20, 1969.
Dear Mom and Dad,
We are no longer with the Company element. The past few days have been absurd since we sit up in the hills during the day and wait until after dark to start down. The trails are rocky, steep, and very treacherous. We have already had one sprained ankle, and I’m lucky I don’t have one too.
Today we went into a village to wash up, shave, and get water (tastes bad, but it’s all we have). We also bought three cases of cokes from the local entrepreneurs ($10-$12 per case with ice). The ville is scenic but dirty. The most depressing thing is to see huts made of bamboo poles with tin siding or siding of old C-ration boxes. The children are friendly and crowd around you asking for chop-chop (food). Although there are many young children, you never see men of military age (they are either in a big town, VC or ARVN (loyalist troops).
I already have a small dose of jungle rot on my hands. Any scratch gets infected since you can’t keep clean out in the bush. The areas are small (just scratches) so it’s only bothersome and not too bad. This is just part of being a soldier in Vietnam.
Glad to hear the Lake Charles job is finally under way. I hope you get the other job
in that area.
We pulled guard every night. I think about playing bridge to keep awake. I also categorize the different things I’m going to drink when I get home. Milk heads the list, then there are juices (orange, grape, grapefruit, pineapple, apple and lemonade), soft drinks (about six types), mixed drinks, Kool-Aid, water, and root beer floats. Not very interesting, but the saliva keeps me awake. If I slept, I’d drown in it. Write me soon and say hi to Lucille and Harriet.
Love, Charles
Dear Mom and Dad,
We are no longer with the Company element. The past few days have been absurd since we sit up in the hills during the day and wait until after dark to start down. The trails are rocky, steep, and very treacherous. We have already had one sprained ankle, and I’m lucky I don’t have one too.
Today we went into a village to wash up, shave, and get water (tastes bad, but it’s all we have). We also bought three cases of cokes from the local entrepreneurs ($10-$12 per case with ice). The ville is scenic but dirty. The most depressing thing is to see huts made of bamboo poles with tin siding or siding of old C-ration boxes. The children are friendly and crowd around you asking for chop-chop (food). Although there are many young children, you never see men of military age (they are either in a big town, VC or ARVN (loyalist troops).
I already have a small dose of jungle rot on my hands. Any scratch gets infected since you can’t keep clean out in the bush. The areas are small (just scratches) so it’s only bothersome and not too bad. This is just part of being a soldier in Vietnam.
Glad to hear the Lake Charles job is finally under way. I hope you get the other job
in that area.
We pulled guard every night. I think about playing bridge to keep awake. I also categorize the different things I’m going to drink when I get home. Milk heads the list, then there are juices (orange, grape, grapefruit, pineapple, apple and lemonade), soft drinks (about six types), mixed drinks, Kool-Aid, water, and root beer floats. Not very interesting, but the saliva keeps me awake. If I slept, I’d drown in it. Write me soon and say hi to Lucille and Harriet.
Love, Charles
This is a letter from Charlie Deppen to his mother and father dated June 28, 1969.
Dear Mom and Dad,
I’m still on L.Z. Debbie. I’ve had K.P. twice so far and would just as soon be out in the field.
I just received your envelope with John Compton’s letter, the bridge stuff, and the letter from you yesterday. It took two weeks to get here, but I’m glad to have it. It really sounds like John has it made. More power to him.
Yesterday we spent all day on a sweep through the valley below Debbie. They found an old beat up AK 47 rifle and two Viet Cong suspects. We (some men in the platoon, on orders from the local militia-gestapo) burned several huts down. The militia (P.R.V.) are bullies and are used to interrogate the local citizens.
The food is better here, but there is much less free time. This is the first time in several days that I’ve had time to write letters. I plan to write six if I have time. There isn’t much else to say so I’ll sign off now. Write when you can and keep Kool-aid coming.
Love Charlie
Dear Mom and Dad,
I’m still on L.Z. Debbie. I’ve had K.P. twice so far and would just as soon be out in the field.
I just received your envelope with John Compton’s letter, the bridge stuff, and the letter from you yesterday. It took two weeks to get here, but I’m glad to have it. It really sounds like John has it made. More power to him.
Yesterday we spent all day on a sweep through the valley below Debbie. They found an old beat up AK 47 rifle and two Viet Cong suspects. We (some men in the platoon, on orders from the local militia-gestapo) burned several huts down. The militia (P.R.V.) are bullies and are used to interrogate the local citizens.
The food is better here, but there is much less free time. This is the first time in several days that I’ve had time to write letters. I plan to write six if I have time. There isn’t much else to say so I’ll sign off now. Write when you can and keep Kool-aid coming.
Love Charlie
This is an excerpt from a letter that Charlie Deppen wrote to his parents July 3, 1969.
Dear Mom & Dad,
First of all I want to thank you for the Kool-Aid you send me. It hits the spot. Keep mixing them up, since although I like cherry and grape best, the variety is good.
…Almost every four or five days we get an SP pack with cigarettes, lots of candy, writing material and toilet articles. The candy is the type that keeps well in this climate…
…When we clean up in the villes we use their wells and well water to wash with. Our steel helmets serve as a wash basin to shave in.
All in all, the times over here not “all” bad, and it may not be quite as bad over here as you think it is. It’s not that every day is like a living hell, it’s just that certain times and certain things are bad or uncomfortable. I have yet to have a single shot fired at me personally, as far as I know.
I’d had KP four times since we’ve been here. If this keeps up I won’t be too sorry to leave.
Lately we have been working with armored personnel carriers (APCs). They are full tracks and mount two M60 machineguns and one 50 cal. machinegun. We either walk beside them or ride four or five on the top. It sure beats walking!
Well, that’s it for now. Keep the bridge columns and letters coming.…
Love Charlie
Dear Mom & Dad,
First of all I want to thank you for the Kool-Aid you send me. It hits the spot. Keep mixing them up, since although I like cherry and grape best, the variety is good.
…Almost every four or five days we get an SP pack with cigarettes, lots of candy, writing material and toilet articles. The candy is the type that keeps well in this climate…
…When we clean up in the villes we use their wells and well water to wash with. Our steel helmets serve as a wash basin to shave in.
All in all, the times over here not “all” bad, and it may not be quite as bad over here as you think it is. It’s not that every day is like a living hell, it’s just that certain times and certain things are bad or uncomfortable. I have yet to have a single shot fired at me personally, as far as I know.
I’d had KP four times since we’ve been here. If this keeps up I won’t be too sorry to leave.
Lately we have been working with armored personnel carriers (APCs). They are full tracks and mount two M60 machineguns and one 50 cal. machinegun. We either walk beside them or ride four or five on the top. It sure beats walking!
Well, that’s it for now. Keep the bridge columns and letters coming.…
Love Charlie
This is a letter from Charlie Deppen to his mother, father, brother and sister dated July 12, 1969.
Dear Mom, Dad, David and Nancy,
I am writing this letter to the four of you to save time and also because I’m short of writing material. I should get more in an SP pack any day now.
For the last five days we have been building a fire base about two miles west of Quang Ngai. The first day we cleared and occupied the hill. Next we laid two strands of rolled barbed wire and another on top. This took the second and third days. The last two days we worked on a small bunker type fighting position. They really keep us busy. Two nights ago it rained so hard and long that we had a lake in our primary guard and sleeping positions. Everyone on the hill was wet and cold (yes cold). Luckily we now have overhead cover and the weather is somewhat better.
Wish me luck and put a hex on the Dinks.
Love Charlie
Dear Mom, Dad, David and Nancy,
I am writing this letter to the four of you to save time and also because I’m short of writing material. I should get more in an SP pack any day now.
For the last five days we have been building a fire base about two miles west of Quang Ngai. The first day we cleared and occupied the hill. Next we laid two strands of rolled barbed wire and another on top. This took the second and third days. The last two days we worked on a small bunker type fighting position. They really keep us busy. Two nights ago it rained so hard and long that we had a lake in our primary guard and sleeping positions. Everyone on the hill was wet and cold (yes cold). Luckily we now have overhead cover and the weather is somewhat better.
Wish me luck and put a hex on the Dinks.
Love Charlie
This is a letter from Charlie Deppen to his mother and father dated August 14, 1969.
Dear Mom and Dad,
We’ve been out in the Quang Ngai valley for the past week. Things were only slightly hectic until yesterday when we linked up with some tanks and APCs to sweep a section of the valley. A little before noon we made contact and we fought till dark. Don’t worry about me; I’m perfectly ok. However; we put our rucksacks on the APCs and mine was either lost or more probably blown to pieces by enemy grenades. I lost all my books, my letters (maybe by enemy hands so watch the mail for enemy propaganda), my gear, and my bridge booklets and addresses. My checkbook and wallet are also gone. All my ID cards, etc will have to be replaced as will my glasses. What a mess, Please send me a small address book.
Write soon and keep your fingers crossed for me and my buddies.
Love Charlie
Dear Mom and Dad,
We’ve been out in the Quang Ngai valley for the past week. Things were only slightly hectic until yesterday when we linked up with some tanks and APCs to sweep a section of the valley. A little before noon we made contact and we fought till dark. Don’t worry about me; I’m perfectly ok. However; we put our rucksacks on the APCs and mine was either lost or more probably blown to pieces by enemy grenades. I lost all my books, my letters (maybe by enemy hands so watch the mail for enemy propaganda), my gear, and my bridge booklets and addresses. My checkbook and wallet are also gone. All my ID cards, etc will have to be replaced as will my glasses. What a mess, Please send me a small address book.
Write soon and keep your fingers crossed for me and my buddies.
Love Charlie
This is a letter from Charlie Deppen to his mother and father dated August 16, 1969.
Dear Mom and Dad,
Don’t worry about me since I’m almost perfectly all right. I say almost because yesterday our company was operating in the Quang Ngai valley and our platoon got ambushed. They (the NVA) blew a mine and I caught a little shrapnel in the right knee, but it’s not too serious. I got dusted off real fast and now this wound will keep me out of the field for a while and maybe permanently. It’s possible that the knee cap is slightly fractured, but I can still get around on my own. At least I’ll have lots of time to read and to organize my bridge system.
Be cool and don’t worry about me. I’m much safer here than in the field.
Love Charlie
Dear Mom and Dad,
Don’t worry about me since I’m almost perfectly all right. I say almost because yesterday our company was operating in the Quang Ngai valley and our platoon got ambushed. They (the NVA) blew a mine and I caught a little shrapnel in the right knee, but it’s not too serious. I got dusted off real fast and now this wound will keep me out of the field for a while and maybe permanently. It’s possible that the knee cap is slightly fractured, but I can still get around on my own. At least I’ll have lots of time to read and to organize my bridge system.
Be cool and don’t worry about me. I’m much safer here than in the field.
Love Charlie
Charlie wrote of his being wounded August 15, 1969 to contribute to Haynie's Memoir When I Turned Nineteen.
Charlie’s Road to Recovery by Charlie Deppen
Reflecting on significant events from the past (wedding day, the birth of a child, an accident, or a significant sports team win or loss), we can recall everything in great detail as if viewing a video recording. That wasn’t the way I recall the events surrounding my own experiences related to August 15, 1969 and the following time. I remember those events as a disconnected series of snapshots or video shorts.
Our platoon was part of a sweep through a ville, and my squad came up to a small dry ditch or ravine with an open field on the other side. The squad approached a bridge or path over the ditch to my left and then spread out. I moved to the far right of the squad.
I moved into a dry bed and up the other side on the field edge. Standing and ready to move across the field a shock-wave stunned and deafened me. Coming to my senses, I was numb and still standing on the edge of the field. I believe an explosion occurred.
I assessed my physical state by looking at my body. First, I understood I was alive and standing in the aftermath of an explosion. I checked my left and right arms and hands seeing no blood or wounds. Checking for blood I wiped a hand across by face. No blood!
Next, I looked at my left leg. Everything OK. Then I scanned my right leg, and I saw a piece of gray metal the size of a few nickels stacked together, sticking out of my right kneecap. This surprised me. I felt no pain (In shock?), but I knew that piece of shrapnel didn’t belong in my knee. I sat behind the ditch and called for a medic.
I cannot remember who came to my aid or how long I stood there. They placed me in an APC; the door was open. I think I was sitting or lying on the back right section. At least one other wounded soldier next to me, maybe more. Being in shock I didn’t recognize him. What I remembered or focused on he appeared covered by debris from bamboo or bushes. My whole awareness of his condition became focused on a single piece of dirt and debris on his hand. His finger appeared broken at the joint and bent at a right angle. I thought how strange I only remember that specific injury. He could have many more serious injuries.
I had no sense of time passing. The next snapshot I am being helped on the dust-off for evacuation. I assumed I was the last wounded loaded because of my insignificant injury. No blood. No ill effects, except that pesky piece of shrapnel and a concussion. As my turn came, I felt relief I was leaving the battlefield. The helicopter took off, and I was sitting up and thought it cool to look at the countryside passing below me as we flew away.
I don’t remember landing or being taken into the operating theater, but I remember lying by myself inside and near the wall of what appeared a large tent. I watched doctors working on someone on the other side of the tent. It became my turn and I recall being annoyed they wanted to cut my right boot off before working on me. What a waste of a good boot!
They finished doing what they needed to do, and I made a mistake I regretted for over forty years. One person attending me offered me the piece of shrapnel that had been in my knee. I declined the offer. What a schmuck!
The next day (I guess) I found myself in a recovery ward with a large bandage wrapped around my right knee. A doctor told me the shrapnel hit a bulls-eye on my right kneecap, fracturing it. The aids periodically squirted fluid into the wound to rinse it out. After five days, they told me I had developed, what I understood, to be a Staph infection. I would need to be evacuated from Nam to Japan for surgery and follow-up treatment. It appeared my war was over for good.
I remember being visited by platoon members while in the medical ward; I guess in Duc Pho (but I could be wrong of the location). I don’t remember who the visitors were. The Brigade commander visited, making rounds of the wards and handing out Zippos with the 11th Brigade emblem on one side and a map of Viet Nam on the other. I provided photos of the lighter to the 1st Platoon website.
They transferred me to Cam Ran Bay preparatory to my Golden Dust-off to Japan. I flew from Nam to Kishine Japan on August 22, 1969, my 23rd birthday. Best birthday present I ever got! Checking me into the orthopedic wing at Kishine (known as Kishine Barracks), a corpsman asked me my Date of Birth (DOB). I said “Today.” He thought I was being a wise-ass (which I guess I was, in a way).
I settled into what I called an orthopedic wing of the hospital. Of the wounded I had the least serious wound. I must confess to severe survival guilt based on those assessments since I served with the First Platoon for only two and a half months. I am not aware a member of my platoon who left the unit for any reason in better health than I did. I got a ‘million dollar wound’. This feeling of embarrassment at my good fortune increased due to the injuries of the other soldiers around me in Kishine. One young man in a bed near mine had lost both of his hands. A ward one floor below ours was for burn victims. Their prognosis and recoveries were grim. My experiences confirmed this being near them later as we were undergoing physical therapy. These reminders of the real costs to life and limb of war was one or my worst experiences from combat and its aftermath.
While in Japan, I received the first of my several operations. The doctor determined that the patella (kneecap) needed to be removed, and the tendons and sinews around the area re-routed/attached. The surgeon used a larger gauge for the drainage lines into and out of my knee (for delivery of antibiotics and draining of any fluid buildup). I think he experimented on me, but not sure. It may have contributed to my less than stellar recovery of motion during post-op.
After a month in Japan, the doctors transferred me to Fort Gordon, Georgia to continue recovery. My parents drove up from Tampa, Florida to meet the medical evacuation plane at Fort Gordon. There I received corrective surgery to increase my range of motion in my right knee. I had more physical therapy, including hydro-therapy in a swimming pool, which I found very helpful.
After a few months of recuperation at Fort Gordon, I got a short leave to go home to Tampa for Christmas. I got orders to report for duty to an armored company of the 1st Armored Division at Fort Hood, Texas on January 2nd. While there, I was standing at attention at an awards presentation on a parade ground and after I short time I fainted. They sent me to the hospital at Fort Hood for evaluation, and my Doctor got pissed off that they returned me to active duty with my poor state of recovery and underlying condition. He ordered a last round of surgeries and PT and then returned me to duty. It was with a profile: No running, jumping, stooping, bending, prolonged standing, or marching. I couldn’t be given guard duty, KP, or any other special duty. The only duty I had after that was overnight CQ (Charge of Quarters). The Army transferred me into Supply and changed my MOS from 11B to 76Y. I became the company Supply Sergeant. That was my position until my Expiration of Term of Service (ETS) and discharge in early December, 1970.
Charlie’s Road to Recovery by Charlie Deppen
Reflecting on significant events from the past (wedding day, the birth of a child, an accident, or a significant sports team win or loss), we can recall everything in great detail as if viewing a video recording. That wasn’t the way I recall the events surrounding my own experiences related to August 15, 1969 and the following time. I remember those events as a disconnected series of snapshots or video shorts.
Our platoon was part of a sweep through a ville, and my squad came up to a small dry ditch or ravine with an open field on the other side. The squad approached a bridge or path over the ditch to my left and then spread out. I moved to the far right of the squad.
I moved into a dry bed and up the other side on the field edge. Standing and ready to move across the field a shock-wave stunned and deafened me. Coming to my senses, I was numb and still standing on the edge of the field. I believe an explosion occurred.
I assessed my physical state by looking at my body. First, I understood I was alive and standing in the aftermath of an explosion. I checked my left and right arms and hands seeing no blood or wounds. Checking for blood I wiped a hand across by face. No blood!
Next, I looked at my left leg. Everything OK. Then I scanned my right leg, and I saw a piece of gray metal the size of a few nickels stacked together, sticking out of my right kneecap. This surprised me. I felt no pain (In shock?), but I knew that piece of shrapnel didn’t belong in my knee. I sat behind the ditch and called for a medic.
I cannot remember who came to my aid or how long I stood there. They placed me in an APC; the door was open. I think I was sitting or lying on the back right section. At least one other wounded soldier next to me, maybe more. Being in shock I didn’t recognize him. What I remembered or focused on he appeared covered by debris from bamboo or bushes. My whole awareness of his condition became focused on a single piece of dirt and debris on his hand. His finger appeared broken at the joint and bent at a right angle. I thought how strange I only remember that specific injury. He could have many more serious injuries.
I had no sense of time passing. The next snapshot I am being helped on the dust-off for evacuation. I assumed I was the last wounded loaded because of my insignificant injury. No blood. No ill effects, except that pesky piece of shrapnel and a concussion. As my turn came, I felt relief I was leaving the battlefield. The helicopter took off, and I was sitting up and thought it cool to look at the countryside passing below me as we flew away.
I don’t remember landing or being taken into the operating theater, but I remember lying by myself inside and near the wall of what appeared a large tent. I watched doctors working on someone on the other side of the tent. It became my turn and I recall being annoyed they wanted to cut my right boot off before working on me. What a waste of a good boot!
They finished doing what they needed to do, and I made a mistake I regretted for over forty years. One person attending me offered me the piece of shrapnel that had been in my knee. I declined the offer. What a schmuck!
The next day (I guess) I found myself in a recovery ward with a large bandage wrapped around my right knee. A doctor told me the shrapnel hit a bulls-eye on my right kneecap, fracturing it. The aids periodically squirted fluid into the wound to rinse it out. After five days, they told me I had developed, what I understood, to be a Staph infection. I would need to be evacuated from Nam to Japan for surgery and follow-up treatment. It appeared my war was over for good.
I remember being visited by platoon members while in the medical ward; I guess in Duc Pho (but I could be wrong of the location). I don’t remember who the visitors were. The Brigade commander visited, making rounds of the wards and handing out Zippos with the 11th Brigade emblem on one side and a map of Viet Nam on the other. I provided photos of the lighter to the 1st Platoon website.
They transferred me to Cam Ran Bay preparatory to my Golden Dust-off to Japan. I flew from Nam to Kishine Japan on August 22, 1969, my 23rd birthday. Best birthday present I ever got! Checking me into the orthopedic wing at Kishine (known as Kishine Barracks), a corpsman asked me my Date of Birth (DOB). I said “Today.” He thought I was being a wise-ass (which I guess I was, in a way).
I settled into what I called an orthopedic wing of the hospital. Of the wounded I had the least serious wound. I must confess to severe survival guilt based on those assessments since I served with the First Platoon for only two and a half months. I am not aware a member of my platoon who left the unit for any reason in better health than I did. I got a ‘million dollar wound’. This feeling of embarrassment at my good fortune increased due to the injuries of the other soldiers around me in Kishine. One young man in a bed near mine had lost both of his hands. A ward one floor below ours was for burn victims. Their prognosis and recoveries were grim. My experiences confirmed this being near them later as we were undergoing physical therapy. These reminders of the real costs to life and limb of war was one or my worst experiences from combat and its aftermath.
While in Japan, I received the first of my several operations. The doctor determined that the patella (kneecap) needed to be removed, and the tendons and sinews around the area re-routed/attached. The surgeon used a larger gauge for the drainage lines into and out of my knee (for delivery of antibiotics and draining of any fluid buildup). I think he experimented on me, but not sure. It may have contributed to my less than stellar recovery of motion during post-op.
After a month in Japan, the doctors transferred me to Fort Gordon, Georgia to continue recovery. My parents drove up from Tampa, Florida to meet the medical evacuation plane at Fort Gordon. There I received corrective surgery to increase my range of motion in my right knee. I had more physical therapy, including hydro-therapy in a swimming pool, which I found very helpful.
After a few months of recuperation at Fort Gordon, I got a short leave to go home to Tampa for Christmas. I got orders to report for duty to an armored company of the 1st Armored Division at Fort Hood, Texas on January 2nd. While there, I was standing at attention at an awards presentation on a parade ground and after I short time I fainted. They sent me to the hospital at Fort Hood for evaluation, and my Doctor got pissed off that they returned me to active duty with my poor state of recovery and underlying condition. He ordered a last round of surgeries and PT and then returned me to duty. It was with a profile: No running, jumping, stooping, bending, prolonged standing, or marching. I couldn’t be given guard duty, KP, or any other special duty. The only duty I had after that was overnight CQ (Charge of Quarters). The Army transferred me into Supply and changed my MOS from 11B to 76Y. I became the company Supply Sergeant. That was my position until my Expiration of Term of Service (ETS) and discharge in early December, 1970.