Born and raised in Medford, Mass., Gerald Cooper, my father, was brought up to believe that his country came first in any circumstance. He was an 18 year old boy, just out of high school when he joined the Marines and made his way to Vietnam. He describes his experiences in the different phases of his tour in the following passage. His tour is not yet over.
Kevin Cooper
I grew up in the blue-collar town of Medford, which is just north of Boston. At the time in 1964, most of my friends went to work or in the service after high school. Very few went to college. Going into the service was the natural thing to do. I enlisted in the Marines during my senior year and delayed the start of boot camp until after graduation. Having grown up with John Wayne movies, I guess I just wanted to join the best. And the Marines were looked at as the best. They were the elite force. I wanted to prove to myself I could "hack it."
With the war on, my family's reaction was mainly concern. They were just as concerned with my enlisting as they were with the war. Since it was only 1964, nobody had any idea that the war would escalate the way it did.After graduation, I had 20 days before leaving home for boot camp. Boot camp was in Paris Island, South Carolina, and lasted 13 weeks. This was probably the single most radical change in my life to that point. Boot camp was a living hell. They wanted us to become soldiers that just follow orders and work within the system. The big saying was "YOU DON'T HAVE TO LIKE IT, YOU JUST HAVE TO DO IT." From boot camp, I was sent to Advanced Infantry Training Camp at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina. Soon after that it was off to Camp Pendleton, California to join the First Battalion, First Marines. While there, I was selected for training in Force Reconnaissance. Force Recon was the best, the "cream of the crop," as it were. I was trained in both underwater and parachute schools. Additional training in explosives, hand-to-hand combat, stealth - and plain craziness followed regularly. The job of Force Recon was to go beyond any established boundaries and find out what the "bad guys" were doing, sneak back and report our findings. After my training, my Recon Unit was assigned to combat operations in South Vietnam.
As strange as it may sound, I was thrilled when I found out about my orders. I was an 18 year old who not only thought he knew everything, but was one of the toughest guys around. I remember thinking that I was embarking on a great adventure, and that I was certainly invincible, so no thought of any harm crossed my mind. But within my first month in Vietnam, I was wounded and all my thoughts of invincibility started to come into question. My injury occurred on August 28, 1965. We were on a routine patrol in a little village just outside of Danang. It was nearly morning and we walked into an ambush. With everyone firing their weapons, I never heard the hand grenade land next to me. Fortunately, the wounds were not severe, and after five days in a hospital, I was returned to duty. At home, the protest marches were just beginning because it was only 1965. To that point, escalation of the war was just starting. The people, mostly the young, were just realizing that the war in Vietnam was a purely political issue. I never questioned our country's involvement at the time because I was too busy trying to survive. And I thought with all my heart that I was doing the right thing because we were protecting an ally.
A tour for the Marines in Vietnam was 13 months, and I went for two of them (tours).The reason I extended my tour was because I honestly thought we were making a difference. I was also good at what I did and I wanted to make sure the newer guys were given a better chance to survive. I know that sounds a bit conceited, but the only way to learn to survive was to learn from someone else who has. Unfortunately, I didn't make it all the way through the second tour because I was wounded for the second and third time. So after 17 months in Vietnam, I was sent home.
When I arrived home in California, I was treated like someone with the plague. I was spit on, yelled at, threatened and looked upon as a mass murderer. Getting back to Medford was great because my family, friends, and neighbors were glad to see me in good health.
If possible, and with the same political mindset that existed in the 60's, I wouldn't do it again. If this country were ever to be invaded or if our national interests were truly threatened, then yes, I would.
Gerald Cooper
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