Friday, November 29th, 2024 Church Directory
April 2, 1970. Shake, Ross C., Dennis Lietha and Gary A. the morning after the battle.

Dennis Lietha: A Veteran’s Story

(EDITOR’S NOTE: The following story by Staff Writer Penny Leuthard is the second of a two part series.)
 
Dennis Lietha, of Clear Lake, was drafted into the Vietnam War in November 1968. Although 90% of the 14 months he was there was spent in combat, there was one battle that will never leave him.
 
On April 1, 1970, Lietha’s platoon was assigned to escort an 8” gun from Firebase Rita to another artillery base, however it broke down. Lietha, driving an APC tank, and the rest of the convoy continued without it. 
 
At 7:30 a.m., shortly after leaving the base he heard the lead soldier yell, “Ambush!” on his headset. He knew immediately this was serious.
 
“I prayed the Lord’s Prayer and I swear time stopped,” said Lietha. “When I was finished I wasn’t scared the entire day.”
 
Although he normally would have been driving lead in the convoy, that day he had been stationed in the back. This position helped save his life.
 
Instantly the lead tank was hit and immobilized and the soldier in the second tank was killed.
 
In the back of the convoy, Lietha heard the soldier in front yell, “Shake (his tank commander’s nickname), you’re in charge.” All of the leaders had been shot.
 
As he moved his tank forward he was hit three times by RPG’s (rocket-propelled grenades), but luckily all of them missed the fuel tank. 
 
There were two gunners on Lietha’s tank, Gary A. and Andy A., and another man, Ross C., who was riding down below. When gunners ran out of ammo they had to reach down to hook their new ammo belts. Ross spent the battle hooking Gary and Andy’s belts together for them, probably saving their lives, as the enemy would wait until gunners ran out of ammo to shoot.
 
The convoy’s calls for help weren’t heard immediately. The first of every month the radio frequencies would be changed and they hadn’t gotten the new frequency yet.
 
At 10 a.m. Lietha’s gunners were down to four bullets when a second platoon finally arrived to help them. All but one of their tanks were blown up instantly.
 
Helicopters air dropped in palette loads of much needed guns and ammo. Lietha’s tank alone went through three sets of machine gun barrels and 20,000 rounds of ammo that day.
 
Medevacs finally started getting in for the wounded soldiers.
 
Throughout the battle, 12 Cobra helicopters would rotate in shooting. Occasionally they would disappear, worrying Lietha. He found out later they were clearing the airspace so the artillery could come in. 
 
Sometime after noon the general of the brigade, William Bond, came in; at 3:00 he decided he was going to take prisoners.
 
He and Lietha’s captain started walking between two tanks. The Vietnamese stood up and shot an RPG, which bounced off one of the tanks and hit Bond, killing him instantly. He was the only general ever killed in combat during the Vietnam War.
 
By 5:30 p.m. South Vietnamese soldiers had been brought in and started doing a sweep. It had started to rain.
 
The Americans were finally able to pull out. Lietha was the only one in his platoon who drove out. He and his crew were four of only five or six who hadn’t been killed or wounded.
 
The next morning Lietha was offered a medal for his part in the battle. He turned it down.
 
“None of us were expecting to get out of the battle alive,” he said. “There’s hopelessness; you can’t say goodbye.”
 
Attempting to illustrate what battle is like, he equates it with a person sitting at the train tracks. They know they have to drive through the train, most likely dying in the process, but they do it anyway. 
 
Lietha returned home in July 1970. In Vietnam they hadn’t heard much about the protests going on, so landing in California was a shock. Stewardesses wouldn’t even talk to soldiers. They were frowned on just for having a uniform on. 
 
“People were really bad to the guys coming back,” said Lietha. “It was terrible.”
 
He returned to the farm, and part of what kept him sane was going back to doing what he did before he left, milking cows and farming. 
 
“There’s no way to describe the things we saw and did,” Lietha said. 
 
He and a group from his unit have been getting together since 1999.
 
“The real part of the story is the relationships and friendships. It [Vietnam] wasn’t good, but you made lifelong friends.”