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TOUROFDUTYViet nam•1968

100% of the proceeds from this book are donated to the Wounded Warrior Project, which benefits the currently wounded and returning men and women in uniform from Iraq and Afghanistan.

Tour of Duty. Copyright © 2009 by Vito Bialla. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission.

Designed by Chelsea Bialla

ISBN # 978-0-557-23891-0

Tour of DuTyVieT Nam • 1968

ViTo Bialla

This book honors all the men and women who served in the Viet Nam conflict and all the brave civilians, pilots, stewardesses and nurses.

INTRODUCTION

Vito Bialla was 19 when he volunteered to join the U.S. Army, went to Viet Nam and served as a tank commander for 11 months in 1968. During his tour of duty he captured some incredible photographs which were stored in his attic for nearly four decades, only recently retrieved, brought to life and now shared for the very first time. There are pictures of war and there are images of the daily lives of those who had to endure and survive the terrors of a war environment, each and every day.

Vito lost five tanks, was wounded, received battlefield decorations, and made it home safe. Many of his fellow soldiers did not and many came home maimed and wounded. The yellow and red emblem represents Tropic Lightning, the 25th Infantry Division. Vito served in the 25th Infantry, Division A Company, 3/4 Cavalry from Jan 5, 1968 until November 20, 1968.

Herbie was my first tank driver, son of a Texas millionaire rice farmer. He took an RPG in the stomach and is still living today.

A typical sunset while out on patrol, another sleepless night as always. We would spend 3 to 4 nights every 90 days at our

barracks pictured on the right.

One of our heroes who made it home safe, holding a .45. Cu Chi Farmer’s market on a typical Saturday morning above.

What was once a village.

Peaceful farming above, water delivery for the GI’s to the right. We learned to coexist.

Freshly deserted entrance to who knows what. Fox hole or major complex, we battled our way through the jungle.

Encountering more enemy fire than we can handle, we call for air support to help us pave the way.

Russian flag on the left, we wonder who we are fighting. 500 lb. bomb hole below and a tunnel rat who wants to go home.

Purple flare signalling for mail and water delivery, somewhere in Cambodia (unofficially of course).

Chuck Depew was my first boss. He lost his arm and half his hip, a true hero from Kentucky. He borrowed my watch, lost his arm with

it on, and apologized right after he got hit.

Blowing up leave-behind ammunitions, vehicles and a tank above. Settling in for the night on the right with a gourmet dinner

of sea rations.

Entrepreneurs at work, awaiting mail and supplies.

Major Tet Offensive. Captured prisoners on the right, a very, very long day in the office. 10 miles outside of Cu Chi.

Traveling CoCa-Cola sales lady, probably only 12 or 13 years old.Sometimes it was the only happy moment in a day. An AK-47 and

Chicom 9mm, enemy weapons.

Philly Dog, my tank. Notice double 50-caliber machine guns. Our biggest hero of all, our medic from Michigan on the right. Notice

the holes in his helmet. He went home alive.

Suburbs of Saigon above, one of the most intense battles during the Tet Offensive.

Vietnamese were incredibly happy, positive and resilient growing up in the midst of war. Truly amazing people.

AAA wasn’t available, so we spent the night by ourselves - hiding in the jungle until repairs came in the morning, 20 miles away.

One scary night.

Picture on the right - if you look long enough you can see the skull of the pilot, or what’s left of it.

This guy was a Viet Cong informer serving as an interpreter in Charlie Company, part of our battalion. Charlie Company always got ambushed, every patrol they went out on. We finally figured out why.

RPGs captured from the enemy, with my buddy who went home healthy to Brownsville, Texas. Driving through Cu Chi on the right,

playing chicken with the truck ahead (the tank won).

Careful excavation of a road mine on the left. A job best left to the experts. Me above with an AK-47.

A Viet Cong rice cache on the right. We could never figure out why their rice came from Texas.

An American casualty in the morning, Vietnamese playing in the afternoon...find the shoe and ankle in the picture to the right -

what was left of the pilot.

Potpourri of captured Viet Cong weapons to the left and my daily side arm, a .44 Magnum with hollow lead bullets.

The aftermath of a firefight never explains the intensity nor the heat of the battle. Just take a look at the ruins of war

you see in these pictures.

Fishing with Baby Son and greeting Papa Son in the morning. We had to politely search Papa Son for weapons, but did it with the greatest respect. We understood each other - you can tell by

the smile on his face.

Left to Right: A Los Angeles Cop, name unknown; felt unsafe on tanks and became a gunner on a chopper, was killed on his first mission. Guy with sunglasses was a musician from the midwest, he made it home safely. Me. Guy on the far right was a drug dealer

from Los Angeles and also made it home safely.

Philly Dog on the right. Vung Tao Mountain above. Rice paddies to the right, an aerial shot in pursuit

of VC and road mines.

My unit just before I went home, feels like you’re leaving your family behind. Monthly mail call on the right, where you could

always hear a pin drop.

Beautiful people in the midst of war. Never without a smile.

A farmer’s market, Vietnamese style.

Living off the land above and remnants after aerial assault on the rice paddies to the right.

After the battle was a quick trip to base camp. A Purple Heart, a Bronze Star, a quick beer and back into the field.

The RPG went through the front of our tank and into Herbie’s stomach. On the right, Chuck Depew, later injured and sent home, myself, and number 30 who was discharged with bleeding ulcers.

21 days and I get to go home. As you count down the days, everyday becomes more intense. You can die on your first as well

as your last in Viet Nam.

GOOD MORNING VIET NAM.

Despite our constant presence, the Vietnamese people didn’t seem to hate us.

Two entrepreneurs. One on the right went fishing everyday, the one above could get you anything you wanted in a matter of minutes.

Our 3 mascots. The monkey was tame, lived with us for 6 months, ate with us daily.Fruit cocktail was his favorite. He finally got tired of combat. The parrot got ill, so we let him go. The little puppy we gave

back to the kids who sold him to us.

Keeping up with the GI’s at a rest stop.

Notice the red shirt to the left. It’s made out of nylon from the parachutes from our flares.

A little humor in the midst of war and the ever-present beautiful girls selling CoCa Colas on their mopeds.

The soldier above, a Vietnamese regular, wore a different color scarf each day - if you wore the wrong predetermined

color for the day, you were subject to immediate assasination.

All the hooches we saw were spotless. So was their hygiene, notice the tooth brush in her hand.

Just a little camera shy. We called them Baby Son.

A very proud Papa Son. More beautiful people.

What was a village above and my tank Philly Dog on the right.

“Gentlemen, I can smell that you all need a bath.” My first three months went without a washing.

“Goodbye GI, we see you soon.” Hope not. HOMEWARD BOUND.

2389107805579

ISBN 978-0-557-23891-090000

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