Jeff LaCross said he didn’t have it bad catnapping on mud, losing nearly one-fifth of his body weight from malaria and hepatitis, and cutting holes through jungle underbrush in Vietnam for days and weeks at a time — at least compared to Revolutionary War soldiers.
He figures having 25 out of 28 men survive a year in a hot combat zone was pretty good — compared to the casualties of most platoons.
And LaCross said the Army has gone out of its way to provide counseling for the many combat vets who returned to the states suffering from post traumatic stress disorder. At least lately.
It’s been 49 years since the Vietnam War drew to an unsatisfactory close for America, and 57 years since a strikingly handsome second lieutenant from Lake Leelanau set foot in a faraway country awash in civil war. While compared to most Americans LaCross has borne a heavy burden for the freedoms we all enjoy, you won’t hear him complaining.
In fact, he rarely talks about his wartime experiences, and when he has allowed his memory to come out it’s been with fellow veterans.
But as honorary speaker at the Leelanau County Memorial Day ceremony, LaCross believes it’s time to openly discuss the sacrifi ces of soldiers who were misunderstood and at times openly booed upon their return home.
Two lines in the Vietnam-era song “Ruby, don’t take your love to town” — written by Mel Tillis and made a smash hit by Kenny Rogers — explain LaCross’ recollection of the role played by grunt soldiers who enlisted to serve: “It wasn’t me that started that old crazy Asian war. But I was proud to go and do my patriotic chore.”
“We had it tough in Vietnam,” LaCross acknowledges. “But we got hot food every other day, we had boots on our feet, we had medical help. I can’t believe what the soldiers in the Revolutionary War went through with poor supplies and freezing cold, loosing their families and their farms …. There is nothing that can compare to it that’s happened sense.”
Comparisons aside, guerilla warfare as practiced in Vietnam was brutal by any standard.
LaCross enlisted in 1966 in the Army as it was becoming clear that American military strength would be tested in Vietnam. Recognized for leadership skills, he was enrolled in officer training school despite lacking a college degree. His services were needed quickly, as the platoon he would lead had wandered into a mine field that resulted in 11 casualties including two deaths. Its lieutenant was among those lost.
“When your buddy is crying because he stepped into a mine field, you go to help him,” LaCross explained in the simplest of terms.
New to combat, LaCross relied on experienced “Sgt. Lopez” — no first name was used or needed — to get he and his men through his first weeks.
“We knew how to go from standing up to laying down real fast,” LaCross said.
Like other grunt platoons, LaCross and his men spent weeks on patrol with no goal of taking or holding ground. Their orders were to “search and destroy” an elusive enemy.
Kill or be killed. “On many nights we were sleeping in puddles or mud — no showers, sometimes for 28 days. I have not missed many daily showers since I’ve returned from Vietnam. To this day, hot water is a luxury,” he said.
LaCross’ platoon was pitted in a cat-and-mouse, life-and-death war against the Vietcong, a communist guerilla movement, rather than the more organized and better supplied North Vietnamese Army (NVA).
“We rarely found any NVA equipment. We found some rifles, but rarely any uniforms. A lot of the country is rice patties, and they would build dikes and that’s what we walked on. In the jungle, you tried to stay off the trails but that meant you had to machete your way through the brush. The trails were booby-trapped,” LaCross said.
Gunshot and artillery wounds took their toll in World War II. But warfare in Vietnam was different, LaCross continued, with most casualties caused by simple yet ingenious traps designed to wound soldiers through a bullet hole in the foot, a small explosive device, or even a sharpened bamboo stick.
“It’s much smarter to wound one guy than to kill him because it takes two other guys to get him to a helicopter, leaving less guys to shoot back at you,” LaCross surmised.
Two of LaCross’ men were killed when an ammunitions expert foolishly picked up an unexploded 105 mm shell. It went off.
When bodies were needed to fill uniforms, the Army became a leader for desegregation. LaCross estimates that about 30% of men serving in his platoon were Black, and another three or four percent were Hispanic. Most were drafted or enlisted under duress.
“One time I had a guy screwing off and I asked him why he joined the Army. He said he joined because a judge gave him a choice of signing up or going to jail. I asked how many others were in the same boat. Eight of them raised their hands. They didn’t really want to be there,” LaCross said.
Consequently, morale was low. LaCross recalls telling Black soldiers that Martin Luther King had been assassinated, and waiting for reaction. They commiserated for awhile, then went back on patrol. What else could they do?
Soldiers fought to keep fellow soldiers alive.
“The average guy just wanted to stay alive. How do you put a scale on morale when you’re sleeping on the ground, you’re dirty, you’re in danger and you miss being back in the United States? I’d say morale was pretty bad,” he said.
After serving his one-year tour overseas, then-Lieutenant LaCross finished his three-year enlistment back in the states training the next wave of GIs headed to a war that was growing less popular among Americans.
Then it was off to Ferris State College through the GI Bill, where he earned a Bachelor of Science degree in business administration and met his soonto-be bride, Jean. “One of his roommates’ girlfriend introduced us,” Jean said. “It was not love at first sight.”
But something must have clicked. Their first official date was to see “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.” Eventually the knot was tied and the LaCrosses moved to Lake Leelanau, where Jeff’s ancestors settled after leaving Quebec behind 168 years ago.
Those leadership skills LaCross honed in Vietnam were handy during a 33-year career as an administrator at Munson Medical Center. He retired as revenue cycle director, which meant that he needed Munson’s books to close with at least $2 million every day to meet the next day’s obligations.
LaCross brought something else home from Vietnam.
“Post traumatic stress disorder. It was called shell shock when I got out. I’ve been to two different counselors and they have been willing to help. There is a lot of support (for veterans) in this area if you are afflicted with it. It’s as hard on family members as it is on the person,” LaCross said.
Added Jean: “Not really. But it is difficult.”
The LaCrosses have lived long and fruitful lives that have included nurturing two children and six grandchildren. Jeff, a member of the VFW honor guard, particularly looks forward to attending another Memorial Day ceremony with family, friends and fellow veterans.
“The sacrifice of one’s life while serving the nation in uniform is the ultimate price our service members pay for their devotion to duty. It is up to those of us still alive to compel the world to remember them,” he said.
As to how something like the Vietnam War could get started, LaCross has a simple explanation: “The real solution is to have senators and congressmen go to war first.”
