Vietnam stories were humorous, heartwarming – and heartbreaking

Editor's note: This is the first part of a two-part feature about the Ozark County Historium's Veterans Day program, a live-remote broadcast by radio station KUKU featuring "Cowboy Rick" Hamby interviewing three local-area veterans. This week, we share the personal Vietnam story of one of the veterans, Larry Warrick, as well as a story he and radio program co-host Robert Klineline told during the broadcast about their 30 years of working together for the local telephone company. 

During a Veterans Day program on Nov. 11 at the Historium, three local-area veterans shared stories – many of them humorous and heartwarming, some of them heartbreaking – about their time as soldiers in Vietnam during the conflict there in the 1960s and early 1970s. The program, which was broadcast live on KUKU radio, featured "Cowboy Rick" Hamby interviewing Gainesville-area residents Larry Warrick and Don Luna, along with Terry Wyrick of Clarkridge, Arkansas. Hamby's cousin Robert Klineline of Gainesville served as co-host and shared stories, with Larry Warrick, about the many years they worked together for what was then Continental Telephone Co.

The program was planned as an introduction to Hamby's new radio storytelling broadcast, "High noon in American history with Cowboy Rick," which, starting today, Nov. 19, will be broadcast weekdays from 12:15 to 12:45 p.m. The program, which will feature Hamby and guests discussing interesting historical events, can be heard on KUKU 100.3 FM and also streamed at kukuradio.com. 

Telephone tales

During Larry and Robert's brief conversation about their telephone company memories, they recalled some of the highlights of their 30 years of working together for what Larry called "a real telephone company."

Their stories focused on the time when residential telephone service was only available on party lines, where one or more residences shared the same line and could eavesdrop on each other's phone conversations. Some party lines had a lot of parties. "There were 10-party lines, and they created lots of problems," Larry said. 

Most telephone patrons hoped for a private line, but others liked the shared line and enjoyed eavesdropping on others' conversations. Robert recalled one lady who did. "When we cut it over from 10-party lines to four-party lines, it just so happened that she ended up being the only one on her party line. It made her really mad," he said.

"She said there wasn't enough news on that thing to pay for it," Larry added. 

War history

At the beginning of the broadcast, Rick invited Historium volunteer Janet Taber to share a little history about Ozark County, Gainesville and the Historium. Shelter Insurance agent Doug Hawkins, one of the local sponsors of the broadcast, added his own tidbit of history, noting that a Shelter Insurance office has operated in Gainesville since 1946, when the company started as MFA Insurance. He is Gainesville's fifth Shelter/MFA Insurance agent during the company's 79 years here, he said. 

Other local sponsors were Chaney Monument and Crossroads Dips and Drips, an ice cream and coffee shop that offered veterans half-price beverages on the holiday.

Sprinkled among the veteran interviews and commercial breaks, Hamby shared facts about war and soldiers serving in combat. He quoted a letter from Pvt. Paul Curtis written on May 28, 1944, three days before he died in combat: "Take a combination of fear, anger, thirst, exhaustion, disgust, loneliness and sickness, and wrap that all up into one reaction and you may start to approach the feelings a fella has as he's in battle," Curtis wrote. "It makes you feel mighty small, helpless and all alone. Without faith, I don't see how anyone could stand this."

Hamby read another letter, this one written to Pvt. Harry Bought on Nov. 6, 1918, during World War I. It said, "Dear Son. Be strong and of good faith. Rest assured that all was done that could be done. You have a fine baby daughter, and she will be waiting for you when you return, but your dear wife has passed away today."  

The three local veterans participating in the radio program were asked questions sprinkled throughout the two-hour program. The stories reported here combine parts of the stories they told  on the radio interviews and other interviews the Times did with the men earlier.

Larry Warrick's story is shared here. Terry Wyrick and Don Luna's stories will be published in next week's Times.  

Larry Warrick: Bronze Star recipient

Larry Warrick's first day in a Vietnam combat zone made him think, "This ain't that bad," he told the Times in the earlier interview. But then came his first night.

The Ozark County native, a 1964 Gainesville High School graduate and Army draftee assigned to the 101st Airborne, was 20 when he took his first flight on an airplane and landed at the American air base in Bien Hoa, Vietnam, in 1968. He and a friend from Ava arrived together and settled into the barracks.

"There was a place you could drink beer," Larry recalled, and he and the Ava friend, who was also under legal age for drinking in the States, enjoyed some time at the bar. Later, they returned to the barracks, feeling the effects of the alcohol. "We were pretty loaded up," Larry said.

They had been told, "If the siren goes off, we're being shot at by artillery," he said.

The siren did go off while Larry was asleep on a top bunk. His friend "pulled me off the bunk and throwed a mattress on top of me," he said. 

After surviving that first-night attack, Larry was taken to an infantry firebase near Phu Bai outside the city of Hue. His first experience there was even worse than his first night in the barracks. "The heat was stifling, and the water was terrible," he said. 

Like many other Vietnam troops, Larry quickly developed dysentery, an ailment that makes one need to stay near a toilet. But no toilets were available that first night when Larry was sent out with other soldiers on an ambush. 

At random, illumination flares would be fired to light up the area. When one of those flares was fired unexpectedly, Larry hurled himself to the ground and instantly suffered an attack of dysentery. "That was not a good place for that to happen," he said.    

"I got my underwear off and cleaned up as best as I could," he said. Then "along about daylight," the men set the ambush and killed their targeted enemy. "They made me go take the clothes off this dead guy to see if he was NVA (North Vietnamese) or Viet Cong. That was my first stinkin' night. It's funny now, but it sure wasn't then."

During last week's radio broadcast, Larry told another story that's "funny now." He described how Clarence, his good friend and fellow soldier, "was awful bad to throw grenades when he didn't need to. That would give our position away, especially at night." 

Because of that, Clarence "wasn't very popular" with the other men, Larry said. 

One dark night they were together on the perimeter of an area they were watching. "Clarence punched me and said, 'Here they come!'" 

Larry looked in the direction his friend pointed to and knew what Clarence was preparing to do. "I told him, 'Don't throw that grenade, Clarence. It's a water buffalo,'" Larry said. 

In reply, Clarence said nervously, "Oh, s---, oh s---."

"What's up?" Larry asked.

"I threw the pin away," Clarence answered. 

The two men knew they couldn't find the pin to disarm the grenade in the dark or even search for it without possibly alerting the enemy by their movement. And if Clarence released his grip on the grenade and threw it, the water buffalo was doomed – and the men in the patrol might be too when their position was exposed.

So, poor Clarence "had to sit there until daylight – all night long – holding that grenade, holding the handle down," Larry said, adding confidently that he "wasn't a bit worried. I knew he wouldn't fall asleep."

Hamby asked Larry about being awarded the Bronze Star Medal, and Larry began the story, but time ran out before he could finish. In his earlier interview with the Times, he said, "We had gotten into a skirmish. There were about 100 men in our company, and after that there was 49. Half had been killed or injured."

The rest of the story was told in Larry's earlier interview with the Times, and also in the Times’ Sept. 18, 1969, edition, which reported that Larry's parents, Clifford and Dessie Warrick, had "recently received a list of the medals awarded to their son, Sp/4 Larry Warrick." 

The Times story continued: "Among his awards was the Bronze Star Medal with first Oak Leaf Cluster for heroism in ground combat against a hostile force in the Republic of Vietnam last March 31.

"The citation stated, 'Specialist Warrick distinguished himself while serving as a radio operator in the Third Platoon of Co. D, 1st Battalion, 502d Infantry on a reconnaissance mission in Nam Hoa district, Republic of Vietnam. The platoon was under intensive small arms fire as a medical evacuation helicopter was trying to evacuate a wounded man. When the helicopter received intensive small arms fire, the litter smashed against a nearby tree, breaking the retrieving cable. Falling to the ground, the wounded man lay strapped in the litter.... 

“'As the enemy began to fire at the wounded man, Specialist Warrick, under a heavy volume of fire . . . moved from his position to the wounded man's position, returning fire as he moved. Cutting the retaining straps with his knife, he removed the man and carried him to a protected position away from the enemy fire. Through his courage, the wounded man’s life was saved.'" 

The Times report added that Larry was also awarded the Purple Heart for "wounds received in action April 3."

The man Larry saved was his "good friend from Wichita, John Goodrich," he told the Times. He explained later that the chopper's winch line was about 20 feet long, and because so many were wounded during that attack, they were "double-stacking" the injured soldiers in the Medevac rescue baskets. "Taking so much time enabled the enemy to get close," he said. 

When Larry returned from Vietnam in 1969, he didn't get the welcome he had expected. His dad, Clifford, a WWII vet, had been welcomed home with honor and respect. Here in Ozark County, that appreciation led to Clifford, along with other WWII vets, including Dallas Herd, Ealum Bruffet, Herman Pierce and others, being elected to public office soon after they returned. Clifford Warrick served as Ozark County collector from 1950 until 1972, when he died of a heart attack. 

By the time Larry returned from Vietnam, "I was old enough to drink," he said. Remembering how his dad was celebrated when he came home from WWII, Larry stepped into an airport bar, wearing his uniform and carrying a rifle he'd brought back, thinking maybe someone would recognize him as a veteran just back from war and buy him a beer. 

Instead, "everyone in the bar turned and looked at me, and you could see the disdain on their faces. I was kinda taken aback," he said. "That's when I realized it was not going to be as I thought it was going to be. Vietnam was an awful unpopular war."

The reaction caused Larry, when he returned home, "to keep my mouth shut and not mention Vietnam."

He has noticed America's overall change in attitude toward veterans during the last 15-20 years, and he appreciates it when someone says, "Thank you for your service." But he doesn't call attention to the fact that he's a veteran. "I'm not looking for attention," he said.

(Next week: Terry Wyrick’s and Don Luna’s stories)