Tribute to John Meyer
Written by Mike Dankert
Written by Mike Dankert
The remarkable thing about John Meyer’s time in Vietnam was that it was unremarkable. John joined the 1st platoon in October 1968. When I met him, John was about 5 foot 7 inches tall, slight build, maybe 140 lbs, thin like Glyn, blond haired like most of us brown-haired guys whose hair was bleached by the sun.
Most guys in Vietnam found someone to buddy up with but John was pretty much a loner until Glyn and I “adopted” him when he was assigned to our “bunker” on Hill 4-11. It wasn’t that John was unlikeable, he just didn’t connect with anyone. He wasn’t a bad soldier—he just didn’t stand out in any way. He “carried his 200 rounds”, pulled his guard shifts and did whatever duty he was assigned without much complaint, just a little grumbling to himself on occasion. He was the epitome of a guy just looking to put in his time and go home. His passion was music. It’s the only thing he would talk about. 60’s Rock and Roll. Name a singer or group and John could tell you the titles of their records, their history and their biggest hits. Its the only thing he became animated about. California car and surf songs, Motown, and Phil Spector girl groups, John knew it all. He was a walking encyclopedia of Pop music. He claimed his sister dated Del Shannon, a 60’s superstar. I listened to top 40 radio a lot back in the states so I could talk with him. Glyn, not so much. I remember the look of shock and disbelief on John’s face when Glyn told John that he had no idea who Bob Dylan was. Other guys wanted to go to college on the GI Bill after their tours to get a “good job.” John’s dream job was to be a DJ. We didn’t often listen to music in Vietnam because our time was spent in the field, living out of a rucksack. No one had a portable radio and carrying a 40 lb rucksack didn’t allow for anything that wasn’t essential.
John was in the field from his first day with the platoon until almost his last day in Vietnam. He never got a rear job that often went to soldiers that were “short”, close to DEROS - the end of their time in Vietnam. John’s tour was remarkable in that he spent a year in Vietnam and never got sick, never got wounded in any of the platoon’s many firefights, and may never have fired his M-16. But he wasn’t a shammer. He carried his 200 rounds, took his shifts on guard and didn’t try to cheat on the time, didn’t try to get out of work details when we were on Hill 411 and didn’t run when we were under fire. He served as a rifleman from October 1968 to August 1969 when he replaced me as Lt. Baxter’s RTO. To his credit, John kept his cool and served Lt. Baxter and the platoon well on August 13 and August 15, two of the most trying days of our Vietnam service. John never got the respect he deserved. He did his part. Earned his Combat Infantry Badge. I’m pretty sure John didn’t get promoted to Spec(ialist)-4 until almost the end of his year in Vietnam. Glyn and I made Spec-4 after 4 months. And like I said, he spent almost his whole year in the field. Like thousands of guys, he never earned a medal, no one called him a hero but his service to first platoon was important.
John saved his R&R until near the end of his tour. When he returned he was happier than I had ever seen him. Guys on R & R usually visit historic sites, enjoy beaches, seek out female companionship, and American style bars and restaurants. John spent his time finding places to hear American top 40 music. His prized possession from his R & R was a portable AM-FM radio. He carried it with him in the field so that he could tune to Armed Forces Radio - AFVN for music. As Lt. Baxter’s RTO he no longer had to carry 200 rounds of machine gun ammo or a claymore mine so the extra weight didn’t matter.
At the end of September Lt. Baxter left the field and shortly thereafter John got notice to report to the rear to prepare for his October 1969 return home. As a final gesture, John gave me his radio wrapped in a waterproof bag. I accepted it in the spirit it was given, and as the honor it was intended to be, and carried it in my rucksack until I left the field in December.
In the years since Vietnam Glyn and I tried to locate John without success. I can’t remember if he was from Minnesota or Wisconsin. We found out there are plenty of John Meyers in both states about the same age as our John Meyer but could never locate him. I wish I could connect with John again; get together, drink some beer, listen to some 60’s music and talk “Oldies.”
Most guys in Vietnam found someone to buddy up with but John was pretty much a loner until Glyn and I “adopted” him when he was assigned to our “bunker” on Hill 4-11. It wasn’t that John was unlikeable, he just didn’t connect with anyone. He wasn’t a bad soldier—he just didn’t stand out in any way. He “carried his 200 rounds”, pulled his guard shifts and did whatever duty he was assigned without much complaint, just a little grumbling to himself on occasion. He was the epitome of a guy just looking to put in his time and go home. His passion was music. It’s the only thing he would talk about. 60’s Rock and Roll. Name a singer or group and John could tell you the titles of their records, their history and their biggest hits. Its the only thing he became animated about. California car and surf songs, Motown, and Phil Spector girl groups, John knew it all. He was a walking encyclopedia of Pop music. He claimed his sister dated Del Shannon, a 60’s superstar. I listened to top 40 radio a lot back in the states so I could talk with him. Glyn, not so much. I remember the look of shock and disbelief on John’s face when Glyn told John that he had no idea who Bob Dylan was. Other guys wanted to go to college on the GI Bill after their tours to get a “good job.” John’s dream job was to be a DJ. We didn’t often listen to music in Vietnam because our time was spent in the field, living out of a rucksack. No one had a portable radio and carrying a 40 lb rucksack didn’t allow for anything that wasn’t essential.
John was in the field from his first day with the platoon until almost his last day in Vietnam. He never got a rear job that often went to soldiers that were “short”, close to DEROS - the end of their time in Vietnam. John’s tour was remarkable in that he spent a year in Vietnam and never got sick, never got wounded in any of the platoon’s many firefights, and may never have fired his M-16. But he wasn’t a shammer. He carried his 200 rounds, took his shifts on guard and didn’t try to cheat on the time, didn’t try to get out of work details when we were on Hill 411 and didn’t run when we were under fire. He served as a rifleman from October 1968 to August 1969 when he replaced me as Lt. Baxter’s RTO. To his credit, John kept his cool and served Lt. Baxter and the platoon well on August 13 and August 15, two of the most trying days of our Vietnam service. John never got the respect he deserved. He did his part. Earned his Combat Infantry Badge. I’m pretty sure John didn’t get promoted to Spec(ialist)-4 until almost the end of his year in Vietnam. Glyn and I made Spec-4 after 4 months. And like I said, he spent almost his whole year in the field. Like thousands of guys, he never earned a medal, no one called him a hero but his service to first platoon was important.
John saved his R&R until near the end of his tour. When he returned he was happier than I had ever seen him. Guys on R & R usually visit historic sites, enjoy beaches, seek out female companionship, and American style bars and restaurants. John spent his time finding places to hear American top 40 music. His prized possession from his R & R was a portable AM-FM radio. He carried it with him in the field so that he could tune to Armed Forces Radio - AFVN for music. As Lt. Baxter’s RTO he no longer had to carry 200 rounds of machine gun ammo or a claymore mine so the extra weight didn’t matter.
At the end of September Lt. Baxter left the field and shortly thereafter John got notice to report to the rear to prepare for his October 1969 return home. As a final gesture, John gave me his radio wrapped in a waterproof bag. I accepted it in the spirit it was given, and as the honor it was intended to be, and carried it in my rucksack until I left the field in December.
In the years since Vietnam Glyn and I tried to locate John without success. I can’t remember if he was from Minnesota or Wisconsin. We found out there are plenty of John Meyers in both states about the same age as our John Meyer but could never locate him. I wish I could connect with John again; get together, drink some beer, listen to some 60’s music and talk “Oldies.”