This Veterans Day, which is November 11th, marks the end of the 50th Anniversary Commemoration of the Vietnam War. The thirteen-year commemoration period was launched in 2012 by President Barack Obama to honor Vietnam veterans and their families.
Almost 2.7 million servicemen and women served over the course of the nearly 20-year-long conflict in Vietnam. One of those men was Leslie Herman Klahn Jr. He served as an Army helicopter pilot in Vietnam from August 1967 through July 1968. Among his papers are letters he wrote to his parents in Colorado, first from Army bases in the U.S. where he was in training, and later from Vietnam.
Leslie Herman Klahn Jr. (or simply “Jr” as he signed off on his letters) was both a devoted son and dependable correspondent. His father had served in the National Guard during World War II, so it is perhaps not surprising that Klahn Jr. joined the ROTC at the University of Wyoming. It was a brave decision, as the U.S. involvement in the war with Vietnam was already underway.
By July 1966 Klahn was headed to basic training at the Army’s Fort Polk in Louisiana. After graduating from basic training, where he was awarded a trophy for marksmanship, Klahn received his orders to flight school at Fort Wolters in Texas. He began in October 1966. Klahn described flight school as “real tough,” writing home:
I haven’t given up, and I am studying all the time – you just don’t know how much I want to prove to myself, you and Janice [his girlfriend] that I can succeed at something. If I fail I just don’t know what I’d do!
At the end of October, he mailed his parents this postcard, showing a helicopter staging field. He wrote on the back, “This is what I will fly – I hope.”
But Klahn wrestled with nerves and self-doubt. On October 22, 1966, he wrote:
I just can’t see myself flying that damn thing. But I am really looking forward to it. We’ll start flying a week from Monday, and I am getting nervous right now.
After weeks of arduous training, Klahn’s skill as a pilot grew. He was preparing for combat in Vietnam. Yet, even as a student, flying was not without risks. Three of his classmates were killed in a midair collision and two more died when their helicopter’s engine failed. Accidents at the training field were not uncommon.
Having seen fatal crashes firsthand, and forced to grapple with his own mortality, Klahn and his girlfriend Jan decided to get married after he graduated from flight school. He wrote to his parents, “I guess you don’t approve, but we want to be together that short time than nothing at all – that is if something happens to me in V.C. [Viet Cong] country.”
By August of 1967, Klahn had arrived in Cam Ranh Bay. He wrote, “Well I am in Vietnam – it sure doesn’t seem like it – it’s so peaceful here.”
The peace didn’t last though. His orders were to join the 1st Cavalry Division. He was assigned to Company A of the 227th Aviation Regiment, Helicopter Battalion. At first, he flew supply runs with an instructor pilot but before long he was flying in combat missions.
Klahn had encounters with the Viet Cong from the air and in one memorable incident early in his deployment, on the ground. He wrote:
I guess your son is some kind of hero – I didn’t fly today, so I went to a lot of shops, took a lot of pictures and bought a grass mat for my area. Well, walking back I got lost, and ended up on one of the side streets. I stopped to take a picture of a Budha [sic] temple when I noticed this guy sitting in his yard eating as fast as he could. He wore the typical black pajamas and had a rifle sitting beside him. Like a fool I started walking toward him, he started running – I ran around the house and he ran almost into me – we just stood there looking at each other – then I motioned with my pistol for him to drop his rifle – and he did. I then took him to the MP’s [Military Police] – and he turned out to be a VC [Viet Cong]. I just got thru talking to the major, and he said he would put me in for some medal. That’s the last time I’ll do something like that – next time he’ll probably start shooting.
Klahn learned to endure sniper fire. He flew combat troops into landing zones. He marveled at the way in which everyday life for many of the Vietnamese continued, despite the war raging on. And he wrote, “I like what I am doing, and it’s doing some good.”
By September of 1967, Klahn was already anticipating a springtime R&R trip to Hawaii to meet up with his wife, Jan. He flew on missions further north, writing, “I understand that the VC have a battalion headquarters and hospital up here [near Song Mao], but we can never find it.” The Army supplied Klahn with a carton of cigarettes a week and an unlimited supply of candy, but it was salty snacks from home that he missed the most. So, his parents sent him Wheat Thins and Cheez-Its.
On October 5, 1967, Klahn wrote:
We are getting ready to move…all indications are that we will move to the area around the DMZ zone. We have been told that we can only take 3 bags. We had a bad accident here today, 3 people were killed, and one was burned badly. Both pilots were killed – they both lived in the same tent as I do and were close friends. Only one was married. They were returning from a CA [combat assault] in a flight of 5 – they were the 4th A/C [aircraft] – they were landing when they went out of control – due to a mechanical failure in the flight controls and crashed. It started to burn, but since they were low on fuel it wasn’t as bad as it could have been, but all were burned. It really hits home when something like this happens, we all expect being shot at, and possibly hit, but when the A/C just fall apart it just isn’t fair.
By mid-October, Klahn wrote, “I sure do enjoy flying…even though the strain etc is starting to wear me out.” Days off were few and far between. Klahn had flown forty days with just a single day’s break. He noted that further north:
[T]hey are getting shot at a little more than we are, but they have a policy that when they receive fire they shoot up the whole village, the people are starting to learn that it’s not safe to shoot at one – that’s the case down here. Here’s why – if you get shot at, in 10 to 15 min. we can … air lift troops to the area … plus the gun ship are there by [the] time we are, so Charlie [a colloquial term for the Viet Cong] doesn’t have much time to get away.
December found Klahn in another close call with the Viet Cong. He described it to his parents:
We have been having all kinds of action lately – most of the LZ’s [landing zones] that we have been going into have been hot. Before we went in we had an air strike, and artillery prep, then then gun ships went it, then us – but the VC being dug in as good as they were, it didn’t do much – the first ship got in, so did the second, the third got half its troops off, then the VC shot down #2, he was hit so bad that he was losing all his fuel so he flew it back in to the LZ, because there just wasn’t any other place to go because of trees – the third ship got hit real bad on the way out – I was the 4th ship, but we never did land in the LZ hence we didn’t get shot. I sure feel lucky because I would have been on that second ship, but the AC [Aircraft Commander] wanted to fly with a new guy to give him so training, so I was #4 – hence I didn’t have to spend the night on the ground with the VC.
The end of December 1967 brought a 24-hour Christmas Day truce and a turkey dinner for the troops. But Klahn still flew his normal missions writing, “without a calendar it would be just another day in Vietnam.” When Klahn wasn’t flying, he was busy writing all kinds of reports as the company safety officer. And he was also building a hooch [colloquial for a rudimentary house] for himself. In one of his letters home, he drew a sketch and wrote:
Looks like we’ll be here a while, so we have started to improve our housing…We had a good floor and it had sand bags around it – so all we had to do is put our tent over it. Then we built an addition on to it, so it makes all kinds of room for two people. It looks something like this.
By February, Klahn had been moved northwest of the town of Hue. He wrote:
It is called Camp Evans. It doesn’t have an air field, but one is to be completed soon. The fighting is very heavy but the NVA [North Vietnamese Army] have been taking heavy casualties. If we can ever get decent weather we’ll be more effective. At the present time we have been flying with 200ft ceilings – and the NVA have taken advantage of it. The city of Hue was considered the most beautiful city in the country – it had the countries [sic] university – had canals with tree lined gardens along all the streets, etc. Well, it has had at least 1/3 destroyed, and when the weather breaks we’ll be making assaults on it. Plus air strikes are planned, so as to level the city…Camp Evans has been mortared almost every night and the heart does jump when they start landing.
As the month closed, Klahn voiced some frustration to his parents, writing:
[E]verything has been the usual army way – the weather is terrible (150’ ceiling), the NVA shoot at you all the time, and they still haven’t given our R&R…We have had quite a few A/C [aircraft] shot – plus about 1/3 damage due to our about nightly mortar attacks…The fighting is typical WWII & Korean wars tactics. They have their positions, and we ours. The fighting is heavy and constant … all we do is fly log and med evac… besides being scared a few times I am fine.
In March 1968, Klahn’s long awaited R&R finally came through. But the return to the war required some adjustment. Still, he remained optimistic, writing:
Well, I am back fighting the war – but with only 4 months to go time should pass rather quickly…There’s no way to describe the trip – it was really enjoyable and a welcome relief from this place. But coming back…was really a let down as you can imagine.
On April 14, 1968, Klahn wrote:
The main reason for this letter is to inform you that I received a slight wound and didn’t want you to worry when you get a notice from the Army that I have been wounded. I was on a night hunter mission and we put our foot into somewhere that it shouldn’t have been. We were shot down, and in the process I received light shrapnel wounds to the left leg. But it’s ok – I’ll be flying in a few days and looks like I’ll get that purple heart along with another DFC [Distinguished Flying Cross] that I have been put in for, for last night’s extravaganza.
The month of May brought more problems for Klahn. He was hospitalized, first at the 95th Evac Hospital at Da Nang and then the 6th Convalescent Center at Cam Ranh Bay. After some confusion about the diagnosis, it was determined that he had a bad case of mononucleosis. He wrote:
I don’t feel too bad now – but up at Evans I thought I would die. There was a span of 8 days where I didn’t eat a thing … In any case I only have 70 some days left in country – and I will not fly again over here if I have anything to do with it.
After 30 days convalescing, Klahn returned to the war. And by June 22, 1968, he was back in the pilot’s seat “due to the fact that I got bored stiff.” Then came good news – Klahn was being promoted to Chief Warrant Officer 2. By July, his passion for flying was superseded by his desire to return home to Colorado. Upon learning of his discharge date, Klahn, with his sense of humor still intact, sent this tongue-in-cheek letter to his parents.
On August 7, 1968, Klahn returned to Colorado, having flown a total of 909 hours in Vietnam. He had served valiantly and survived despite the odds. This Veterans Day, we remember Klahn and the millions more who were prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice, fighting heroically to uphold American ideals far from home. You can read L.H. Klahn Jr.’s letters to his parents at the American Heritage Center or access the digitized letters here.
Post contributed by AHC Writer Kathryn Billington
