Bernie W. (bernie2260) reviewed Missions of Fire and Mercy: Until Death Do Us Part on + 119 more book reviews
Written by Bernie Weisz Historian Vietnam War Contact: BernWei1@aol.com August 30, 2010 Pembroke Pines, Florida title of Review: "The Vietnam War: Plenty of heat, mud, rockets, mortar, sniper fire, dust, wind, snakes, disease and enemy!"
Bill Peterson's book exciting book, "Missions of Fire and Mercy" is a treasure chest and is loaded with tidbits rarely found in other memoirs regarding what it is like to cheat death as a crew member on a Huey helicopter during the Vietnam War. A native of Michigan's Upper Peninsula, Bill Peterson quit college after one year and in February, 1967 enlisted in the Army to be a Huey helicopter crew chief. Although this book took 40 years to surface, Peterson meticulously wrote this catharsis detailing his story as a member of the C/227th Assault Battalion, 1st Air Cavalry supporting U.S. ground troops in their persecution of the war against a tenacious enemy, the North Vietnamese Army and their southern allies, the Viet Cong. Mr. Peterson's missions primarily consisted of inserting troops participating in a combat assault and extracting them as well, bringing troops desperately needed ammunition in the heat of a vicious firefight, delivering life saving water to men dehydrated in the swamp infested, 100 plus degree heat of the Ashau Valley, and most importantly, medically evacuating mortally wounded Americans who without Peterson's "missions of fire and mercy" would surely perish. The author's recall is meticulous and thorough. Despite being written in 2010, Mr. Peterson was assisted in writing this book with letters he sent to his father while in S.E. Asia. From his basic training at Fort Bliss in February of 1967 to his tearful reunion with his bride to be and parents in August of 1968, the reader is brought through the war in Vietnam exactly as Bill Peterson saw it. Ghastly stories are recalled from flying at An Khe, the Central Highlands, Camp Evans in I Corps, as well as covert operations in Laos as well as the enemy infested Ashau Valley.
Recently, I asked Mr. Jerry Horton, author of "The Shake and Bake Sergeant" (see my review of this book) why Vietnam Veterans are reluctant to discuss their experiences in Vietnam. My father was a pilot in the Royal Air Force, in England from 1940 to 1945, and he would spent hours if asked to discuss his role in W. W. II. For the majority of Vietnam Vets when asked about their experiences during this conflict, the taciturn reticence is evident. Why is this? Mr. Horton explained it to me as such: "I think that many of draftees returning from Vietnam simply put it out of our minds by diving into school or work or family whatever and as we grow older and things slow down we have time to think about the past and wonder about our lives and experiences back then. The other thing that is common is that many have not shared their experiences with anyone (family, friends, etc.) simply because they do not think anyone would really understand. In some respects, the fact we went to this other world, survived it and came back somewhat intact and actually performed with honor is a feat beyond what the normal person will ever have to experience or achieve. And yet it has not been until these later years that our society has recognized this. The bottom line is that a grunt even though we were the lowest or lowest at the time, we now know that we are and were special , we know what our fathers had to go though in Europe , Southeastern Pacific in war. We have a special club that really not many are allowed to join. Anyway, that's the way I feel about it." Mr. Peterson's goals are similar: "The goal of this story is to reach out to families and loved ones who never understood why their warrior has been so quiet about Vietnam. Hopefully, this will help you to have a better understanding of those men and women, and what they went through. Hopefully, this will bring healing to those of you who served in combat and will help you realize that your memories are not faulty. These things did happen, and you can and should be proud to have served so honorably and bravely."
This memoir is all telling, leaving no stones unturned. Bill Peterson unabashedly explained that before he went to war, he had an incredible sense of humor, loving to play jokes on anyone gullible enough. The one thing his family and close friends noticed about him when he returned from Vietnam was his difficulty to laugh about many things others thought hilarious. After one year in college at Michigan State University, Peterson was bored senseless. Aside from listening all his life to fascinating stories told by his father about his exploits as a B-17 pilot, he wrote: "Every time I watch the nightly news and see helicopters in action and hear the harrowing stories, I know I want to go to Vietnam and somehow get involved with choppers. I don't know much about it, but that isn't going to stop me. I want action and feel the war can provide that". Enlisting as a helicopter crew chief, he tells his weary mother that if he goes to Vietnam, God will protect him. As this book is evidence, his prophesy was indeed correct. Sent to basic training at Fort Bliss, Texas in February of 1967, Peterson quipped that in the days of high tech military and long-range weapons, bayonet training was "a joke". As the reader will eventually find, in January of 1968, four major landing zones in Peterson's area of operations were hit with mortar and rocket fire. The enemy climbed over and under the concertina wires encircling the landing zones. Vicious hand to hand combat ensued, and without the aforementioned bayonet training, many Americans would have died in vein repelling these suicide communist onslaughts. However, Peterson does make it known that many lessons learned in basic training were not applicable in Vietnam, with common sense being the true crucible.
Prior to departure to overseas duty, reality of what Peterson is enmeshed in sinks in. He laments: "Some of us will come home early, some with horrendous physical and/or mental wounds...the remains of others will be returned to their families...wasted by the enemy". Claiming the security of the 91st Psalm to protect his son's life (verses 1-7), Peterson's father at the Menominee Airport in Michigan watched his son's plane fly off to Vietnam via Ft. Lewis, Texas. In a letter saved, Peterson senior is quoted as remarking: "Our eldest son had just gone off to fight an ugly, nonsensical war". Peterson's chariot of war was a Boeing 707, which landed at Cam Rahn Bay on August 13, 1967. Reality quickly set in as Peterson was asked to fill out a form where his body was to be sent, or what may be left of it, should he happen to return to Cam Rahn Bay "prematurely". Even worse, his first night, his sleep was interrupted by 2 enemy mortar attacks launched just outside the U.S. perimeter, a half mile from his hootch. One particularly striking observation Peterson made while awaiting transfer to An Khe in the Central Highlands to link up with C/227th, 1st Air Cavalry, was the temporal nature of this war. He thus remarked: "In this war, we are not only dispensable but also very transient and are assigned and reassigned wherever we are needed for either our particular training, or to replace those who have been unfortunate enough to be WIA or KIA. I'm learning that aircraft here are used like taxi's". Another wake up call to the reality of war was when Peterson witnessed coffins of slain soldiers being loaded on cargo planes for final burial in the U.S. Peterson is overwhelmed at the arsenal at the disposal of the U.S. Army. Huey "slicks" (troop transport), Gun ships (heavily armed attack helicopters, Loaches (observation planes), Cobras, CH 47 tandem rotor and Sky Crane helicopters are omnipresent. A very telling nature of the ugly side of the war was expressed by Peterson to his dad, when he expressed the following: "Believe it or not, someone decided that in order to get rid of the deficant from the outhouses, it has to be burned. We have a daily detail that pull the split 55 gallon drums out the back of the outhouses, douse them with diesel fuel and light it off. Only in the military! If you add every imaginable insect to this horrid mess, you may get the idea that disease would be hard to avoid while you are over here fighting for freedom. If I can survive this, dealing with the V. C. should not be more than a minor inconvenience".
Unfortunately, this underestimation of his opponent would not last long. Assigned to "Charm School" after reporting in at an Khe to the "Ghostriders" of Charlie Company, 227th Assault Helicopter Battalion, First Air Cavalry, he learns of the tenacious nature of his opponent. Questioning why he has to learn the finer points of booby traps, i.e. how they are set up and how to spot them, he is reminded by his instructor where he will be when "Charlie blasts him out of the sky." With a revised opinion of the enemy, he writes to his parents his fear of Vietnam the following: "Charlie is a master of camouflage! It's not hard to see that we're fighting a hard core enemy who'll stop at nothing to score." Peterson's fear intensifies, particularly at night. Assigned to guard duty, with 2 men awake per foxhole, using a 2 hour off/on schedule from sunset to sunrise to guard the perimeter of his base, Peterson asserted the following: "can the enemy get through all that concertina wire that we put up only a few hours before? Are they really capable of disarming the mines that have been placed outside the perimeter? How can they be this dedicated? After the first night of this nonsense, it is apparent we're not here to catch up on our sleep." Peterson's unit is nomadic, and he is shipped in August of 1967 to "LZ Uplift". Awaiting a shipment of new Hueys to arrive, he temporarily flies as a door gunner with another crew chief Psyops, Night Hunter, Command and Control and search and rescue missions. What follows this are some very sordid details that would test anyone's sanity as Peterson up close participates in transporting troops to and from the field, re-supplying them, and morbidly transporting wounded and dead young troops on their "last ride home".
Comments abound that are rarely found elsewhere. In one particular mission, Peterson's ship was called to extract 6 hardcore NVA POW's back to "Uplift" for interrogation. Peterson wrote that these six escaped from their hideout and had been shot by their confederates. Peterson's comments are noteworthy: "They all appeared between 13 and 20 years old and had not bathed since last year's monsoons. These guys get first prize for the worst thing to ever reach my nostrils! According to their interpreters, the POW's had been told that if the Americans captured them, they'd be eaten alive. Apparently, they preferred that over the treatment they were getting in that cave." After seeing incredibly violent carnage that is detailed gorily in this book, Peterson wrote home the following: "Insufficient sleep, frequent attacks, seeing buddies getting blown away, and the fear of the unknown is working on all of us. I guess the stress is getting to me." The one calming factor, under-emphasized, was the importance of mail. Getting letters from home was Peterson's saving grace. Between trying to sleep in "rat infested" bunkers to the resulting stress of canceled missions due to inclement weather while enemy besieged troops desperately need to be re supplied continue to wear Peterson down. He drops his M-16 accidentally out of his helicopter and almost falls out trying to catch it.
More horror sets in. Peterson's emotions peak as he watches the glazed eyes of the recently slain. In a very telling letter to his father, which can only be told by Peterson, he wrote of transporting the dying and dead, the following: Among those we transported back who had been killed in action, were a number we recognized as the same men we had dropped off this morning. On the first lift, there were 8 mortally wounded soldiers loaded on our ship. Several of the wounds had been inflicted by small arms and machine gun fire. One grunt had stepped on a mine, grenades had killed 2, and 1 died after being hit by a mortar round. It tears my heart out every time we do medevac flights. I'm beginning to feel guilty every time we do a combat assault, knowing before hand that several of the men we take into the depths of enemy territory will not return unscathed. Not only that, they may not return at all. During their ride in our helicopter, or another, their eyes may not reflect the fear that is evident among so many during an air assault. Instead, on their next ride out of the jungle, their eyes might be closed inside a body bag, or hidden by a poncho liner covering their body. Eerily, their eyes may be all too visible while they lie on the deck of the ship, that final distant look staring blankly into what lies beyond. I'm horrified to see their bloody, tattered, muddy fatigues flapping in the breeze while we cruise along at 100 knots to avoid drawing ground fire. Steam rises from the belly wound of one of the troopers hit by a mortar just a few short few minutes ago. Blood is blowing across the deck of the aircraft and running past my feet. The horror of it all!"
There are other excerpts not printable in this review, nevertheless Peterson graphically demonstrates the violent, nerve shattering nature of his experience and adds testimony as to why this memoir laid fallow for nearly forty years. Very little innuendo is missed in this book. Peterson graphically takes the reader step by step through a helicopter combat assault, as well explains that when in triple canopy forest with no suitable landing zone, grunts rappel to the ground. Unfortunately, this made an easy target for NVA snipers. Fear of friendly fire, his personal exposure to Agent orange, as well as the barbarity of the VC and NVA during the Tet Offensive at Hue are all mentioned. Bill Peterson was injured several times, once burned by a wayward flare in his helicopter, as well as shot by an enemy gunner. If it wasn't for his armored vest (called a "chicken plate") this book would have never been written. His helicopter is also shot down, being hit by an air burst of North Vietnamese .37 MM anti aircraft fire. Peterson discusses transporting refugees, as well as the unfortunate experience of covertly flying a S.O.G. team into Laos on a "Sneaky Pete" mission, only to return a week later to discover only a few men of the initial team survived to be recovered, the rest either KIA or becoming a POW. Regardless, in all his close calls, Peterson gives full credit to what he called "White Robe 6", his moniker for God. Deeply indebted to his higher power, Peterson writes that "White Robe 6 DOES answer when men call upon him. Not as a voice audible on radio circuits, but in the inmost recesses of the soul." Peterson concludes this amazing story with his comment about Vietnam per se. Qualifying that he is not supporting Communism in any way, Peterson unequivocally concludes this memoir by stating: "I've often had thoughts during my tour, and even more now that I'm back in civilian life, that the country we were attempting to save from Communism was in many ways destroyed by us. Granted, we were trying to root out the enemy, but look what we did to that country. Vietnamese were torn from their roots. Many lost their homes and were transferred to refugee camps with thousands of others". He takes his hat off to the POW's and acknowledges that while some died in captivity, where are the others? Finally, Peterson staunchly asserts that the U.S. military did not lose the war on the battlefields, but rather in the press and the nightly news, wrongly convincing the American public the fallacy that the military had lost the war. There is so much more to this book. However to find that out, I recommend you purchase a copy of "Missions of Fire and Mercy"! A must read!
Bill Peterson's book exciting book, "Missions of Fire and Mercy" is a treasure chest and is loaded with tidbits rarely found in other memoirs regarding what it is like to cheat death as a crew member on a Huey helicopter during the Vietnam War. A native of Michigan's Upper Peninsula, Bill Peterson quit college after one year and in February, 1967 enlisted in the Army to be a Huey helicopter crew chief. Although this book took 40 years to surface, Peterson meticulously wrote this catharsis detailing his story as a member of the C/227th Assault Battalion, 1st Air Cavalry supporting U.S. ground troops in their persecution of the war against a tenacious enemy, the North Vietnamese Army and their southern allies, the Viet Cong. Mr. Peterson's missions primarily consisted of inserting troops participating in a combat assault and extracting them as well, bringing troops desperately needed ammunition in the heat of a vicious firefight, delivering life saving water to men dehydrated in the swamp infested, 100 plus degree heat of the Ashau Valley, and most importantly, medically evacuating mortally wounded Americans who without Peterson's "missions of fire and mercy" would surely perish. The author's recall is meticulous and thorough. Despite being written in 2010, Mr. Peterson was assisted in writing this book with letters he sent to his father while in S.E. Asia. From his basic training at Fort Bliss in February of 1967 to his tearful reunion with his bride to be and parents in August of 1968, the reader is brought through the war in Vietnam exactly as Bill Peterson saw it. Ghastly stories are recalled from flying at An Khe, the Central Highlands, Camp Evans in I Corps, as well as covert operations in Laos as well as the enemy infested Ashau Valley.
Recently, I asked Mr. Jerry Horton, author of "The Shake and Bake Sergeant" (see my review of this book) why Vietnam Veterans are reluctant to discuss their experiences in Vietnam. My father was a pilot in the Royal Air Force, in England from 1940 to 1945, and he would spent hours if asked to discuss his role in W. W. II. For the majority of Vietnam Vets when asked about their experiences during this conflict, the taciturn reticence is evident. Why is this? Mr. Horton explained it to me as such: "I think that many of draftees returning from Vietnam simply put it out of our minds by diving into school or work or family whatever and as we grow older and things slow down we have time to think about the past and wonder about our lives and experiences back then. The other thing that is common is that many have not shared their experiences with anyone (family, friends, etc.) simply because they do not think anyone would really understand. In some respects, the fact we went to this other world, survived it and came back somewhat intact and actually performed with honor is a feat beyond what the normal person will ever have to experience or achieve. And yet it has not been until these later years that our society has recognized this. The bottom line is that a grunt even though we were the lowest or lowest at the time, we now know that we are and were special , we know what our fathers had to go though in Europe , Southeastern Pacific in war. We have a special club that really not many are allowed to join. Anyway, that's the way I feel about it." Mr. Peterson's goals are similar: "The goal of this story is to reach out to families and loved ones who never understood why their warrior has been so quiet about Vietnam. Hopefully, this will help you to have a better understanding of those men and women, and what they went through. Hopefully, this will bring healing to those of you who served in combat and will help you realize that your memories are not faulty. These things did happen, and you can and should be proud to have served so honorably and bravely."
This memoir is all telling, leaving no stones unturned. Bill Peterson unabashedly explained that before he went to war, he had an incredible sense of humor, loving to play jokes on anyone gullible enough. The one thing his family and close friends noticed about him when he returned from Vietnam was his difficulty to laugh about many things others thought hilarious. After one year in college at Michigan State University, Peterson was bored senseless. Aside from listening all his life to fascinating stories told by his father about his exploits as a B-17 pilot, he wrote: "Every time I watch the nightly news and see helicopters in action and hear the harrowing stories, I know I want to go to Vietnam and somehow get involved with choppers. I don't know much about it, but that isn't going to stop me. I want action and feel the war can provide that". Enlisting as a helicopter crew chief, he tells his weary mother that if he goes to Vietnam, God will protect him. As this book is evidence, his prophesy was indeed correct. Sent to basic training at Fort Bliss, Texas in February of 1967, Peterson quipped that in the days of high tech military and long-range weapons, bayonet training was "a joke". As the reader will eventually find, in January of 1968, four major landing zones in Peterson's area of operations were hit with mortar and rocket fire. The enemy climbed over and under the concertina wires encircling the landing zones. Vicious hand to hand combat ensued, and without the aforementioned bayonet training, many Americans would have died in vein repelling these suicide communist onslaughts. However, Peterson does make it known that many lessons learned in basic training were not applicable in Vietnam, with common sense being the true crucible.
Prior to departure to overseas duty, reality of what Peterson is enmeshed in sinks in. He laments: "Some of us will come home early, some with horrendous physical and/or mental wounds...the remains of others will be returned to their families...wasted by the enemy". Claiming the security of the 91st Psalm to protect his son's life (verses 1-7), Peterson's father at the Menominee Airport in Michigan watched his son's plane fly off to Vietnam via Ft. Lewis, Texas. In a letter saved, Peterson senior is quoted as remarking: "Our eldest son had just gone off to fight an ugly, nonsensical war". Peterson's chariot of war was a Boeing 707, which landed at Cam Rahn Bay on August 13, 1967. Reality quickly set in as Peterson was asked to fill out a form where his body was to be sent, or what may be left of it, should he happen to return to Cam Rahn Bay "prematurely". Even worse, his first night, his sleep was interrupted by 2 enemy mortar attacks launched just outside the U.S. perimeter, a half mile from his hootch. One particularly striking observation Peterson made while awaiting transfer to An Khe in the Central Highlands to link up with C/227th, 1st Air Cavalry, was the temporal nature of this war. He thus remarked: "In this war, we are not only dispensable but also very transient and are assigned and reassigned wherever we are needed for either our particular training, or to replace those who have been unfortunate enough to be WIA or KIA. I'm learning that aircraft here are used like taxi's". Another wake up call to the reality of war was when Peterson witnessed coffins of slain soldiers being loaded on cargo planes for final burial in the U.S. Peterson is overwhelmed at the arsenal at the disposal of the U.S. Army. Huey "slicks" (troop transport), Gun ships (heavily armed attack helicopters, Loaches (observation planes), Cobras, CH 47 tandem rotor and Sky Crane helicopters are omnipresent. A very telling nature of the ugly side of the war was expressed by Peterson to his dad, when he expressed the following: "Believe it or not, someone decided that in order to get rid of the deficant from the outhouses, it has to be burned. We have a daily detail that pull the split 55 gallon drums out the back of the outhouses, douse them with diesel fuel and light it off. Only in the military! If you add every imaginable insect to this horrid mess, you may get the idea that disease would be hard to avoid while you are over here fighting for freedom. If I can survive this, dealing with the V. C. should not be more than a minor inconvenience".
Unfortunately, this underestimation of his opponent would not last long. Assigned to "Charm School" after reporting in at an Khe to the "Ghostriders" of Charlie Company, 227th Assault Helicopter Battalion, First Air Cavalry, he learns of the tenacious nature of his opponent. Questioning why he has to learn the finer points of booby traps, i.e. how they are set up and how to spot them, he is reminded by his instructor where he will be when "Charlie blasts him out of the sky." With a revised opinion of the enemy, he writes to his parents his fear of Vietnam the following: "Charlie is a master of camouflage! It's not hard to see that we're fighting a hard core enemy who'll stop at nothing to score." Peterson's fear intensifies, particularly at night. Assigned to guard duty, with 2 men awake per foxhole, using a 2 hour off/on schedule from sunset to sunrise to guard the perimeter of his base, Peterson asserted the following: "can the enemy get through all that concertina wire that we put up only a few hours before? Are they really capable of disarming the mines that have been placed outside the perimeter? How can they be this dedicated? After the first night of this nonsense, it is apparent we're not here to catch up on our sleep." Peterson's unit is nomadic, and he is shipped in August of 1967 to "LZ Uplift". Awaiting a shipment of new Hueys to arrive, he temporarily flies as a door gunner with another crew chief Psyops, Night Hunter, Command and Control and search and rescue missions. What follows this are some very sordid details that would test anyone's sanity as Peterson up close participates in transporting troops to and from the field, re-supplying them, and morbidly transporting wounded and dead young troops on their "last ride home".
Comments abound that are rarely found elsewhere. In one particular mission, Peterson's ship was called to extract 6 hardcore NVA POW's back to "Uplift" for interrogation. Peterson wrote that these six escaped from their hideout and had been shot by their confederates. Peterson's comments are noteworthy: "They all appeared between 13 and 20 years old and had not bathed since last year's monsoons. These guys get first prize for the worst thing to ever reach my nostrils! According to their interpreters, the POW's had been told that if the Americans captured them, they'd be eaten alive. Apparently, they preferred that over the treatment they were getting in that cave." After seeing incredibly violent carnage that is detailed gorily in this book, Peterson wrote home the following: "Insufficient sleep, frequent attacks, seeing buddies getting blown away, and the fear of the unknown is working on all of us. I guess the stress is getting to me." The one calming factor, under-emphasized, was the importance of mail. Getting letters from home was Peterson's saving grace. Between trying to sleep in "rat infested" bunkers to the resulting stress of canceled missions due to inclement weather while enemy besieged troops desperately need to be re supplied continue to wear Peterson down. He drops his M-16 accidentally out of his helicopter and almost falls out trying to catch it.
More horror sets in. Peterson's emotions peak as he watches the glazed eyes of the recently slain. In a very telling letter to his father, which can only be told by Peterson, he wrote of transporting the dying and dead, the following: Among those we transported back who had been killed in action, were a number we recognized as the same men we had dropped off this morning. On the first lift, there were 8 mortally wounded soldiers loaded on our ship. Several of the wounds had been inflicted by small arms and machine gun fire. One grunt had stepped on a mine, grenades had killed 2, and 1 died after being hit by a mortar round. It tears my heart out every time we do medevac flights. I'm beginning to feel guilty every time we do a combat assault, knowing before hand that several of the men we take into the depths of enemy territory will not return unscathed. Not only that, they may not return at all. During their ride in our helicopter, or another, their eyes may not reflect the fear that is evident among so many during an air assault. Instead, on their next ride out of the jungle, their eyes might be closed inside a body bag, or hidden by a poncho liner covering their body. Eerily, their eyes may be all too visible while they lie on the deck of the ship, that final distant look staring blankly into what lies beyond. I'm horrified to see their bloody, tattered, muddy fatigues flapping in the breeze while we cruise along at 100 knots to avoid drawing ground fire. Steam rises from the belly wound of one of the troopers hit by a mortar just a few short few minutes ago. Blood is blowing across the deck of the aircraft and running past my feet. The horror of it all!"
There are other excerpts not printable in this review, nevertheless Peterson graphically demonstrates the violent, nerve shattering nature of his experience and adds testimony as to why this memoir laid fallow for nearly forty years. Very little innuendo is missed in this book. Peterson graphically takes the reader step by step through a helicopter combat assault, as well explains that when in triple canopy forest with no suitable landing zone, grunts rappel to the ground. Unfortunately, this made an easy target for NVA snipers. Fear of friendly fire, his personal exposure to Agent orange, as well as the barbarity of the VC and NVA during the Tet Offensive at Hue are all mentioned. Bill Peterson was injured several times, once burned by a wayward flare in his helicopter, as well as shot by an enemy gunner. If it wasn't for his armored vest (called a "chicken plate") this book would have never been written. His helicopter is also shot down, being hit by an air burst of North Vietnamese .37 MM anti aircraft fire. Peterson discusses transporting refugees, as well as the unfortunate experience of covertly flying a S.O.G. team into Laos on a "Sneaky Pete" mission, only to return a week later to discover only a few men of the initial team survived to be recovered, the rest either KIA or becoming a POW. Regardless, in all his close calls, Peterson gives full credit to what he called "White Robe 6", his moniker for God. Deeply indebted to his higher power, Peterson writes that "White Robe 6 DOES answer when men call upon him. Not as a voice audible on radio circuits, but in the inmost recesses of the soul." Peterson concludes this amazing story with his comment about Vietnam per se. Qualifying that he is not supporting Communism in any way, Peterson unequivocally concludes this memoir by stating: "I've often had thoughts during my tour, and even more now that I'm back in civilian life, that the country we were attempting to save from Communism was in many ways destroyed by us. Granted, we were trying to root out the enemy, but look what we did to that country. Vietnamese were torn from their roots. Many lost their homes and were transferred to refugee camps with thousands of others". He takes his hat off to the POW's and acknowledges that while some died in captivity, where are the others? Finally, Peterson staunchly asserts that the U.S. military did not lose the war on the battlefields, but rather in the press and the nightly news, wrongly convincing the American public the fallacy that the military had lost the war. There is so much more to this book. However to find that out, I recommend you purchase a copy of "Missions of Fire and Mercy"! A must read!
