An Amazing Vietnam Survival Story

By Mark Prior

In 1968, the Vietnam War was raging. The United States Army needed someone who could operate a bulldozer, and Gary could. They assigned him, the only American, to a unit made up of Cambodians and a few Australians in a remote jungle region. His unit desperately needed him and the dozer to help fortify key positions on a hill they were defending against the Viet Cong.

The unit leader laid out the plan for Gary from the top of the hill. “They will attack by coming up on the far side where it’s not as steep. We need the jungle and bamboo cleared so we can see them coming. We also need some trenches and walls built on the upper hillside to give our guys some solid fighting positions.”

“I’m on it!” said Gary as he climbed onto the dozer. He liked the D7E dozer. It was small enough that he could easily maneuver it around obstacles, yet powerful enough to do the job.

Within a few days, he completed the task and looked over his work from above. “Beautiful! Now we’re as ready as we will ever be.” When he reported back, the unit leader advised, “You can work on top of the steeper side of the hill and also serve as our lookout.”

The next day, from high on the bulldozer, Gary could see the Viet Cong coming up the hill. “Here they come!” he yelled and pointed towards the bottom of the cleared hillside. The men took their positions and began firing, while Gary fired from atop the dozer from the side.

He watched as the wave of VC charged directly up the hill and into the line of fire. They kept coming even when he and his unit mowed them down and eventually wiped them out. They incurred some casualties, but small compared to the VC.

The calm after the wave gave him a chance to reflect on what had just happened. “That was tragic. I signed up to defend our country from Communism, and to drive a dozer. But here I am, far from home, the only American in a unit in the middle of the jungle, killing brave men willing to die for what seems to be a defense of their homeland.”

He had no more time to think as another wave, and then another, charged up the hill, each time getting closer to the top and incurring more casualties on his unit. Gary could see that the Viet Cong were short on weapons, as many grabbed weapons from the previous wave's dead to continue the attack. He and his fellow soldiers were fighting for survival, but there were just too many waves of VC to fend off, and they had no reinforcements.

Several of the VC broke off from the primary force, charged towards Gary’s position on the side and started firing. He turned the bulldozer towards them and fired back furiously until he felt a sharp burning pain in his leg. He tumbled off the dozer and rolled down the hill until he came to rest under a bush. The cover of that bush saved his life. Later, Gary would learn he was the sole survivor.

Four Vietnamese civilians who weren’t involved in the war had come after to collect the spoils from the dead bodies. They found Gary under the bush, bleeding profusely. He looked up and saw them standing near him without weapons, and felt relief.

“They’re probably civilians. If they were VC, I wouldn’t be alive. They don’t leave survivors!”

They were talking loudly in broken English. “If we help him and the VC see he is American, they will surely kill us.”

 “But if we leave him here, he will surely die,” said one who appeared to be the leader of the group. They continued to talk in a lower tone, but Gary couldn’t make it out.

While he waited, Gary looked around and saw his dozer a short distance up the hill and the carnage of bodies scattered nearby. He thought, “I will also die if I don’t get to a doctor soon.” “The pain is getting worse...”

“Maybe these Vietnamese are friendly towards Americans, like some others I’ve met, and will help me survive. I need to stay positive!”

Thankfully, Gary didn’t have long to wait for their decision. There was a flurry of activity as they made and applied a paste of red mud to his wounds. When it dried, the mud sealed the wounds and stopped the bleeding.

Then the Vietnamese took on the challenge of getting Gary to safety. They put him on a makeshift stretcher, covered his face with mud to hide that he was American, and made for a nearby village.

Once there, other civilians applied various local treatments to ease the pain and partially heal the wounds. They also provided food and clothing and allowed him to rest and recover until he was ready to continue.

The journey to safety was extremely dangerous. The Viet Cong soldiers were monitoring the roads and randomly stopping civilians, so they had to travel mostly on foot. Also, they had to carry Gary on the stretcher, making travel slow and precarious. Sometimes, a week or more went by before they could find a safe village to rest and resupply.   

Finally, after two months, they arrived in the friendly country of Thailand, where Gary was driven to an American Air Force base. There, he notified his relatives and friends that he was no longer missing in action and presumed dead. It was a joyful occasion for all.

Gary learned later that they had assigned him to a special Cambodian anti-communist unit that operated outside of the normal US command structure. It explained why his unit couldn’t ask for support from Huey choppers to provide reinforcements or evacuation, and why there was never an official record of the battle.

He also learned that his rescue was an extremely rare act of human compassion. He could find no instances of Vietnamese civilians transporting American soldiers to safety through a combat zone. Most of them were just struggling to survive the raging war around them.

At the Air Force base, American doctors provided further treatment for his wounds and prepared him for the distinct possibility that he would never walk again. He had also picked up a rare fungus on his scalp during the trip through the jungle. Since it was highly contagious, they held him there for an extra month so they could treat it with local medication and to prevent spreading to the US.

Finally, back in the States, the Army transported him to Fitzsimmons Hospital in Colorado, where they performed an urgent operation on his injured leg.

After the surgery, Gary met with the doctor assigned to his case. The doctor told him in a flat, clinical manner, “The surgeon did what he could. The wounds were deep and caused an unknown amount of nerve damage. We have some doubts about your leg returning to normal functionality.”

Gary responded in a loud voice before the doctor could finish what seemed like his rehearsed speech.

“Wait a minute, Doctor! My survival on top of that hill during the battle was, at best, doubtful, and surviving the dangerous trip through the jungle was also extremely doubtful. I’ll put aside any doubts you or I have about my recovery and work until my leg is back to normal. Just tell me how to start.”

The rehabilitation process was extremely long and hard, both mentally and physically.

Since his leg had been inactive for so long, the muscles had deteriorated and had to be rebuilt. As that happened, he taught his brain to recognize his leg’s new muscle structure and capabilities. This was necessary so that his joints could handle sudden movements, and he could maintain his balance.

Once he could walk, but with a limp, he worked many long hours retraining his gait by practicing walking correctly to avoid joint, muscle, and back pain. Towards the end of the rehab process, he worked on tolerating loads by walking and standing for long periods.

It took a year before he could walk normally again. He had conquered all doubts by staying positive, working through the pain, and beating the odds again.

The first thing Gary did when he got the all-clear from the doctor was to take that first ride on his Harley. He thought, “How I’ve missed this sound and feel,” as it rumbled beneath him and glided onto the street. “Wow, it’s been years, but it seems like only yesterday. It sure beats riding that dozer back in Nam.”

Later in the ride, as he looked from the top of Loveland Pass at the snow-capped mountains, he thought, “This dream has kept me going and has finally come true.”

Then he shouted to the mountains: “I’m alive and free!”

And headed down the other side.

About Mark Prior:

Mark grew up in Flint, Michigan, and has a Bachelor of Arts degree in Geography from the University of Michigan and a master’s degree in computer information systems from Denver University. Mark is a former reading buddies coordinator and business analyst/tech writer who specialized in helping disadvantaged youth, wastewater treatment, and financial applications in Denver. He currently lives in Phoenix, Arizona, where he develops and shares his writing.

You can contact him at Markprior123@markpriorauthor.com or www.markpriorauthor.com to share information, provide feedback, and learn about current and upcoming work.