 This
is a picture of me near Qui Nhon overlooking the South China Sea,
probably around May, 1968.
Recollections of the 58th
Transportation Company
I had the honor of
Commanding the 58th Transportation Company, Light Truck, from
3 September 1967 until early June 1968, when Col. Bellino asked me to
join the Group Staff and Maintenance and Safety Officer. In reflection
nothing else in my life has compared.
I made Captain
around May 1967 while serving as CO of the EUCOM Car Detachment in
Stuttgart, Germany. Shortly thereafter I received orders to report to
the 8th Group in Qui Nhon, Vietnam. My C-130 arrived in Qui
Nhon on 2 September 1967; I reported to 8th Group HQ that
fateful day; the day of the terrible ambush. LTC Burke was in Command;
and I had the opportunity to hear the reports; and feel the tragedy.
The next day I reported to the 58th, down the hill from the
Group HQ, and that of the 27th Bn. LTC Quinton Martin was CO
of the Battalion.
 Internally
I knew I never wanted to see a tragedy like that occur to anyone in my
Company; and the “lessons learned” became my Bible. I was blessed by
having a superb First Sergeant, SFC Saunders who ran our unit's
headquarters magnificently, how he got the lumber to upgrade the
quarters from tents to wooden barracks and get them constructed with
Vietnamese laborers was a constant sort of pride to him, and amazement
to me. But what was so
important was, when my truckers returned from convoy everyday they could
expect a comfortable place to rest; and a good hot meal; with cheap beer
(I think it was 25 cents).
I should add my
three platoon leaders were exceptional; as was the Warrant Officer who
ran the Maintenance Section. I wish I could remember names; but I can
assure you I have all your faces committed to memory.
 This
allowed me to focus on what was most important. Being able to join our
trucks on convoy duty; at least every other day. We knew that convoy
discipline: proper interval allowing the space to maneuver and not
become a target; wearing hard hats and flack jackets; and maintaining
proper speed could save lives. We went every where: LZ English, Bon
Song; Duc Pho; Duc Tho; An Khe; Pleiku; Dak To upon occasion and even
one platoon went North toward Khe Sanh on a special detail. I guess we
were quite lucky. In spite of numerous minor engagements no one died on
convoy duty during that time.
The one we did lose
was Sgt Vazquez; who was shot on 4 February 1968. Through the heart by
a 22 rifle bullet while filling the water truck just outside of our base
camp. I was on convoy duty that day; I had never seen Top cry before.
We all did. Juan was an absolutely wonderful, kind man; without an
enemy in the world. Writing that letter to his family was probably the
most difficult thing I have done. Colonel Bellino named the base camp
after him. I have seen some postings referring to Camp Vazquez.
 I
know this is maudlin; for almost twenty years I blanked on his name. I
worked in Washington when the Wall was built; three days after it
opened, I walked there. The name Juan Vazquez flashed at me. I will
never forget again.
When I left the
Company I was given a plaque; “Best Wishes to Charlie, “The Captain”.
I keep it; and remember it and all my truckers with the greatest
fondness. I hope you are all well and have lived wonderful lives.
Charlie Thomas,
Lottsburg, Va. 27 February 2009.
cbthomas@hughes.net.
|
by
Charlie Thomas
Camp
Vazquez, which was the 8th Transportation Group HQ
was named after my mess sergeant, SFC Juan Vazquez, who was shot through
the heart during the first attack on Tet; he was filling the water truck
near our camp. I was on Convoy patrol that day, I went out with a
different platoon every other day. Only lost one man, Juan. I should
tell you I blanked on his name for years. As I worked in DC when the
wall was opened; three days after it opened I walked down there; his
name flashed out at me, I will never forget again. He was a dear
friend to me my and my first Sergeant, and I think to all the men.
Cleaning out his chest and writing the letter to his family was one of
the most difficult things I did. He was an extraordinary man who
always had the interests of the men at heart; somehow we always had
steaks and other wonderful meals on Sundays. I never asked how he
always got the best food. He knew what to do, and it kept morale high.
Col Bellino came to our Company's Thanksgiving and Christmas
celebrations; and had the camp named after Sgt Vazquez after his death.
His death was a terrible blow to the unit. What was particularly
galling to me was that we worked extraordinarily hard to take all the
precautions we could to keep our convoy's safe; and no
one in my company was killed during my time; except for Sgt Vazquez; at
the water hole at our base camp. And yes, we went everywhere in the
Central Highlands on a daily basis.
This
was taken in December 1967, looks like we were stopped, probably for a
lunch break, somewhere on Rt 1 headed to Bon Son. My jeep in the
foreground, one of our guntrucks at the head of the convoy behind. 
LZ English, a firebase on Rt 1, taken
in Oct 1967 while we were unloading artillery shells. This was not a
pleasant place to spend the night because of our random protective fire
all night long.
Taken
in October 1967, and looks like our convoy headed toward An Khe Pass, in
the distance. At that time the road was paved out of Qui Nhon, but
unpaved most of the way. The same was true of both Routes 1 and 19; by
the time we left most of the routes had been paved. Of course the VC
figured out how to dig holes in the hard surface, put in a mine, and
patch it up again.