Tim "Dusty" Rhoades Memorabilia
Photographs with 1st platoon.
Dusty Rhoades shared a YouTube video of LZ Cork. He was transported by a Chinook to Cork when he first arrived in the platoon. The surrounding mountains were in Laos. He noticed trenches dug from one bunker to another, which was unusual. Another oddity was the 55-gallon Foo gas drums rigged to be donated by Claymore mines.
Dusty wrote of his being wounded July 14, 1969 to contribute to Haynie's Memoir When I Turned Nineteen.
Dusty’s Road to Recovery by Timothy “Dusty” Rhoades
At the Chu Lai hospital a huge corpsman cut off my clothes, and that pissed me off because there were female nurses there and I didn’t want to be naked in front of them. Before I knew it, he had me naked from the waist down. The corpsman got out a plastic container and pulled a tube out of it and I asked him “What the hell are you doing?” The corpsman replied “I’m going to put this in your penis” and I said “Like the hell you are.” Within a few minutes and a struggle I had a tube in my dick. He pulled out another tube and plastic container, and I asked him “What are you going to do with that?” And he replied “Putting it up your nose.” I said “Like hell it is” and after a struggle I had a tube in my nose. Now I am naked with a tube coming out of my nose and a tube coming out of my dick. There are female nurses standing right in front of me and I felt embarrassed. They wheeled me to a black cold table for x-rays and the last thing I heard was “Don’t get sick” as I puked and passed out.
I woke up, several days later and still at the hospital in Chu Lai. I had an intravenous fluid drip (IV) in my arm and lived off the fluids from the IV for an undetermined number of days. I drifted into sleep due to the pain medication and awaken from the pain. A never-ending cycle. Awake I looked at the tube running from my nose to a machine and saw something green running from my nose to a container. I had multiple wounds, left side of my back and right wrist. The doctor sliced me open from the sternum to below the beltline during the operation to repair my wounds. They bandaged most of my wounds but they didn’t stitch them so they could drain. It hurt like hell every time they changed my bandages.
I was in a haze as time passed between dressing changes, medication, painkillers and other medical needs. One evening as I lay awake confined to my bed a nurse asked if I wanted to call home to my parents. I said yes. I gave the nurse the phone number, and she said they would dial the number through a Military Auxiliary Radio System (MARS). A nurse wheeled me to the nurse’s station and handed me a telephone handset. They gave me instructions to say the word “over” after completing what you are saying. The person you talked to did the same. This technique determined who talked and who listened.
Overwhelmed with emotions they dialed my mother and father phone number. My mother answered, and I told her I was fine but not sure she believed me and my father picked up and asked “What was going on and where are you? Over” I said “I am on R & R over.” I didn’t want to worry them. My father asked right away wasn’t it too early to be on R & R. He was in WW II and familiar with how the Army operates. I told him everything was OK and not to worry I wanted to say hello. That ended our telephone call.
I was in the Chu Lai hospital for five days and then transferred to Cam Ranh Bay. While in the Chu Lai hospital I learned the nurses were wonderful, and you never wanted to look bad in their eyes because there were other guys you thought had wounds worse than you.
Once I arrived to the Cam Ranh Bay hospital, the doctors did a quick triage and moved me to a hospital bed. The only thing I remember was watching the weather girl on television. She wore a short skirt, and I thought what the hell? Somewhere between Chu Lai and Cam Ranh Bay one of the Stout brothers stopped by and asked what happened and how was I doing. I remember little of the brief visit.
The doctor told me “You have a million-dollar wound and you're going home” which I didn’t understand what he said. I remember little of the trip from Cam Ranh Bay to Japan. After two days in Japan the nurse removed my catheter and I remember having to pee. I stood there peeing as if it would never stop. As I peed three guys peed and left. I know it’s hard to understand, but I thought it amazing. I can pee on my own again and with a full stream. After I went back to my bed, the doctors selected many wounded to return to the states. I was one of them.
I remember landing in Alaska and the General of the base greeted us. The doors swung open, and he offered everyone a steak dinner. Most soldiers on the plane were hooked to IVs and catheters and couldn’t eat a steak dinner much less go to the mess hall. Someone from the back yelled “Close the damn door we are freezing.” I felt sorry for the General because he didn’t know the passengers on the plane held wounded soldiers that couldn’t leave the plane or eat a meal.
The next stop was Scott Air Force Base, Illinois. I was one of the first unloaded from the plane and loaded onto a military bus converted for stretchers. There was a beautiful woman helping the soldiers and trying to make us more comfortable. The soldier lying next to me and I referenced the sexual acts we would do with her if given the opportunity. Unfortunately, the other nurses overheard our conversation and now the nurses wanted nothing to do with us but the oldest nurse that probably served in WW II. It was the same old nurse that got me for my phone call home.
I arrived at the Army Hospital at Fort Riley Kansas and spent one week in an open ward with many wounded soldiers. It was during this time I received a box with my belongings. My airborne boots and dog tags was what I received. During my recovery I never forgot Ramos or Reynolds and often wondered what and why it happened. The pain of losing my friends started on the Hill and never ended. In August I asked a candy striper to write two letters to Chuck and the platoon. I told them I was in the states and doing fine and asked how first squad and the platoon was doing. I missed everyone. The nurses told me to get ready for a move to the Fort Irwin Hospital.
Once arriving at the hospital at Fort Irwin they placed me on the third floor and in a special bed. The guy to the right of me was a combat infantry veteran having served one year in Vietnam. In Vietnam he never received a scratch. A car accident put him here not long after returning home with both arms and legs in traction.
The nurse came in the room and bent over my bed checking my wounds and explaining my injuries, at that point the soldier next to me pushed her on the ass. She fell on me screaming and then I screamed. She went to the soldier’s bed and pulled on the sandbags of his traction. He would never do that again after the pain he experienced from the change to his traction.
I became discouraged when I didn't receive a letter from the platoon responding to the two letters I wrote. I felt everybody blamed me for what happened that night. This haunted me for many years, in my sleep, and my waking hours and it never stopped.
I was on a ward with twenty to forty other people who had lost everything from their sight to legs and arms. The girlfriend's, fiancée’s and wives visited their loved ones on Friday nights. After the visit we all knew, except for the poor guy being visited, that they were never coming back. I was there for many Dear John letters and seeing attorneys serving divorce papers. The wives couldn’t handle what they saw. My wounded comrade’s pain went deep, deeper than you can ever imagine. The pain of no response from the platoon had the same impact on me.
Dusty’s Road to Recovery by Timothy “Dusty” Rhoades
At the Chu Lai hospital a huge corpsman cut off my clothes, and that pissed me off because there were female nurses there and I didn’t want to be naked in front of them. Before I knew it, he had me naked from the waist down. The corpsman got out a plastic container and pulled a tube out of it and I asked him “What the hell are you doing?” The corpsman replied “I’m going to put this in your penis” and I said “Like the hell you are.” Within a few minutes and a struggle I had a tube in my dick. He pulled out another tube and plastic container, and I asked him “What are you going to do with that?” And he replied “Putting it up your nose.” I said “Like hell it is” and after a struggle I had a tube in my nose. Now I am naked with a tube coming out of my nose and a tube coming out of my dick. There are female nurses standing right in front of me and I felt embarrassed. They wheeled me to a black cold table for x-rays and the last thing I heard was “Don’t get sick” as I puked and passed out.
I woke up, several days later and still at the hospital in Chu Lai. I had an intravenous fluid drip (IV) in my arm and lived off the fluids from the IV for an undetermined number of days. I drifted into sleep due to the pain medication and awaken from the pain. A never-ending cycle. Awake I looked at the tube running from my nose to a machine and saw something green running from my nose to a container. I had multiple wounds, left side of my back and right wrist. The doctor sliced me open from the sternum to below the beltline during the operation to repair my wounds. They bandaged most of my wounds but they didn’t stitch them so they could drain. It hurt like hell every time they changed my bandages.
I was in a haze as time passed between dressing changes, medication, painkillers and other medical needs. One evening as I lay awake confined to my bed a nurse asked if I wanted to call home to my parents. I said yes. I gave the nurse the phone number, and she said they would dial the number through a Military Auxiliary Radio System (MARS). A nurse wheeled me to the nurse’s station and handed me a telephone handset. They gave me instructions to say the word “over” after completing what you are saying. The person you talked to did the same. This technique determined who talked and who listened.
Overwhelmed with emotions they dialed my mother and father phone number. My mother answered, and I told her I was fine but not sure she believed me and my father picked up and asked “What was going on and where are you? Over” I said “I am on R & R over.” I didn’t want to worry them. My father asked right away wasn’t it too early to be on R & R. He was in WW II and familiar with how the Army operates. I told him everything was OK and not to worry I wanted to say hello. That ended our telephone call.
I was in the Chu Lai hospital for five days and then transferred to Cam Ranh Bay. While in the Chu Lai hospital I learned the nurses were wonderful, and you never wanted to look bad in their eyes because there were other guys you thought had wounds worse than you.
Once I arrived to the Cam Ranh Bay hospital, the doctors did a quick triage and moved me to a hospital bed. The only thing I remember was watching the weather girl on television. She wore a short skirt, and I thought what the hell? Somewhere between Chu Lai and Cam Ranh Bay one of the Stout brothers stopped by and asked what happened and how was I doing. I remember little of the brief visit.
The doctor told me “You have a million-dollar wound and you're going home” which I didn’t understand what he said. I remember little of the trip from Cam Ranh Bay to Japan. After two days in Japan the nurse removed my catheter and I remember having to pee. I stood there peeing as if it would never stop. As I peed three guys peed and left. I know it’s hard to understand, but I thought it amazing. I can pee on my own again and with a full stream. After I went back to my bed, the doctors selected many wounded to return to the states. I was one of them.
I remember landing in Alaska and the General of the base greeted us. The doors swung open, and he offered everyone a steak dinner. Most soldiers on the plane were hooked to IVs and catheters and couldn’t eat a steak dinner much less go to the mess hall. Someone from the back yelled “Close the damn door we are freezing.” I felt sorry for the General because he didn’t know the passengers on the plane held wounded soldiers that couldn’t leave the plane or eat a meal.
The next stop was Scott Air Force Base, Illinois. I was one of the first unloaded from the plane and loaded onto a military bus converted for stretchers. There was a beautiful woman helping the soldiers and trying to make us more comfortable. The soldier lying next to me and I referenced the sexual acts we would do with her if given the opportunity. Unfortunately, the other nurses overheard our conversation and now the nurses wanted nothing to do with us but the oldest nurse that probably served in WW II. It was the same old nurse that got me for my phone call home.
I arrived at the Army Hospital at Fort Riley Kansas and spent one week in an open ward with many wounded soldiers. It was during this time I received a box with my belongings. My airborne boots and dog tags was what I received. During my recovery I never forgot Ramos or Reynolds and often wondered what and why it happened. The pain of losing my friends started on the Hill and never ended. In August I asked a candy striper to write two letters to Chuck and the platoon. I told them I was in the states and doing fine and asked how first squad and the platoon was doing. I missed everyone. The nurses told me to get ready for a move to the Fort Irwin Hospital.
Once arriving at the hospital at Fort Irwin they placed me on the third floor and in a special bed. The guy to the right of me was a combat infantry veteran having served one year in Vietnam. In Vietnam he never received a scratch. A car accident put him here not long after returning home with both arms and legs in traction.
The nurse came in the room and bent over my bed checking my wounds and explaining my injuries, at that point the soldier next to me pushed her on the ass. She fell on me screaming and then I screamed. She went to the soldier’s bed and pulled on the sandbags of his traction. He would never do that again after the pain he experienced from the change to his traction.
I became discouraged when I didn't receive a letter from the platoon responding to the two letters I wrote. I felt everybody blamed me for what happened that night. This haunted me for many years, in my sleep, and my waking hours and it never stopped.
I was on a ward with twenty to forty other people who had lost everything from their sight to legs and arms. The girlfriend's, fiancée’s and wives visited their loved ones on Friday nights. After the visit we all knew, except for the poor guy being visited, that they were never coming back. I was there for many Dear John letters and seeing attorneys serving divorce papers. The wives couldn’t handle what they saw. My wounded comrade’s pain went deep, deeper than you can ever imagine. The pain of no response from the platoon had the same impact on me.