The world was heating up in 1965. The United States and Vietnam were at war in a conflict that would eventually span four presidencies while driving a wedge into the American social fabric. Mandatory service drafts escalated and 500,000 men would be sent to combat in a war with communistic aggression.
For 19 year-old Pat Bowe, his involvement in the maelstrom was inevitable by either choice or political demand. He was born and raised in Beaverton, Oregon and came from a military family who infused him with a sense of duty to his country. His father, a World War II veteran, had served in the Pacific and European theaters and fought in the legendary Battle of the Bulge. His father’s service played a major role in his desire to join the service. He enlisted in the Army in 1965 and after basic training he volunteered for Army Airborne jump school in Fort Benning, Georgia.
The elite training was rigorous. “We ran everywhere,” he says.
Army Airborne Jump School is designed to make elite soldiers for special combat operations who specialized in parachuting into enemy territory. The training has many phases, each one leading up to the ultimate test - leaping from a plane at altitude. Two sticks - military parlance for a line of 15 to 18 men - would jump out opposing doors of the aircraft. Jump masters motion the recruits out the door into the open air. Jumpers come out of the door in a tight body, tucked position waiting for the jerk of their chute deploying and praying they hit the landing zone.
For Bowe, the blast of wind and an inflated chute was exhilarating but he knew the training was ultimately meant for combat somewhere, sometime. Eventually his number would be called and in April 1966, it was.
Bowe was deployed to Vietnam where he would join a large number of Americans in the early war effort. By 1967, half a million Americans occupied the area of Vietnam and the casualties began to climb. He landed in Saigon and was immediately taken aback by stifling heat and the wretched smell of the country. "Of diesel and death," he recalls.
He was assigned to the 173rd Airborne Brigade. The unit was established in 1917 and had seen combat in World War II, but it gained notoriety during its tenure in the Vietnam War. Bowe’s involvement would be the first major ground formation in the units history which played a vital role in many major operations. Bowe quickly realized that his involvement with 173rd could become a violent experience. One he was unsure, but hopefully, he could survive.
His suspicions were confirmed when he was assigned to an infantry reconnaissance platoon. His platoon had the sole and transparent mission to find the enemy and kill them.
“As blunt as it sounds it was killed or be killed. It was that simple,” he says. “Your job is to take the enemy out anyway you can.”
His platoon worked in small numbers - seven to eight men at a time. Their work was deep in the jungle, exposed to the enemy forces but the small unit meant the team was personally close - a valuable asset when enduring the many firefights with the enemy. Patrols were long and rugged. The enemy was hardened and experienced. And the jungle made the task of winning even more challenging with its dramatic terrain and climate. Bowe’s experience in Vietnam defined the frontline experience.
“If the enemy wasn’t trying to kill you the environment was,” he said.
In February of 1967, Bowes unit made history. For the first time since the Korean War, the American Army Airborne “Sky Soldiers” of the 173rd Airborne would make the first and only combat jump into Vietnam. The offensive was called Operation Junction City, an 82-day effort to cut a large unit of NVA (North Vietnamese Army) out of a region along the Cambodian border.
Bowe was one of 700 men to jump that Wednesday in an iconic effort to oust the enemy of its stronghold. The operation would garner wide media attention and land a grainy black and white photo on the cover of Life magazine.
Despite the glowing reviews the operation was a near operational failure. Bowe’s jump missed the landing zone. “It was organized chaos,” he recalls. “It would have made things much simpler if I had hit the landing zone.”
Bowe was on his own miles from where he should be but his unit regrouped and carried on the mission. The operation ultimately failed to find and eliminate the large enemy unit, but smaller units were engaged, and militarily, Bowe says the operation was a success but not the win for all the fanfare. His missions continued through the summer and into the fall of 1967, operating on the frontlines searching and destroying enemy weapons and supply caches.
“Anything from food, ammo, or supplies was destroyed,” he said. The enemy was prevalent and the firefights frequent.
Bowe would ultimately sustain two injuries throughout his deployment. An enemy grenade explosion riddled his body with shrapnel. A medic quickly treated him, patching his many bleeding wounds, but Bowe, undeterred and fiercely loyal to his small cadre of brothers, grabbed the medics weapon to finish the firefight. In October of 1967, Bowe sustained the most severe wound of his time in the service.
While patrolling on point, a highly exposed position at the front of his platoon, a shot rang out from an enemy sniper and pierced his abdomen. He lay in the dirt watching the clouds drift by as a firefight ensued, wondering if he’d make it home.
“I thought that was it. I was just a kid, I haven’t even lived yet and I wondered, 'will I even survive this?,’” he recalls.
The bullet ripped through his lung, liver, stomach, and took a rib from his back. It took 8 months for him to fully recover.
Of the 6000 purple hearts decorated to soldiers of the 173rd Airborne throughout the Vietnam War, Bowe would eventually receive two, along with a Bronze Star with a V for valor. Wounds were all too common in his unit.
“We had 7-8 people in my squad at any one time and we had 11 purple hearts between us. So we were all shot up at least once or twice,” he said.
The Vietnam War would eventually claim 58,220 American lives with scores more wounded physically and mentally. In time, Bowe recovered and the war become a painful memory and distant with time. But he says his time in Vietnam are memories and experiences you never truly forget. He has 13 pieces of shrapnel from the grenade that still haunt his body.
After his military service, and an honorable discharge from the Army, Bowe moved to Oregon where his service for country continued in a new way. He served as a sheriff’s deputy in Marion County and would later retire from the Keizer Police Department after 33 years in law enforcement. He’s involved with the local American Legion and frequents military events, hosting Memorial Day services in Sisters, Oregon where he now resides to this day. He enjoys the quiet, humble life in the small mountain town.
Vietnam is now a memory on paper, images, and the few friends he has left from that war over 50 years ago. But despite age and the troubling memories Bowe remains resolved in duty to country.
“Even knowing what I know now, I wouldn’t hesitate to do it again,” he says proudly. “You wouldn’t have a country like this if you didn’t have people who were willing to step up.”
This article was originally published in the Spirit of Central Oregon magazine, Fall 2022 edition.
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