Post by Admin on Feb 13, 2007 3:48:39 GMT -6
Over and again, he plunged his Huey helicopter into a firestorm for one reason: Soldiers would die if he didn't.
Retired Lt. Col. Bruce Crandall's aid to soldiers on Nov. 14, 1965, during the Vietnam War's bloody Battle of Ia Drang earned him a Distinguished Service Cross, the second-highest military award.
Now, his country is showing even more appreciation.
On Feb. 26, President Bush will present the Medal of Honor, the nation's top decoration, to the former Army pilot from Orchard Park, Wash. His heroic flights for encircled 1st Cavalry Division troops -- when nobody else could deliver supplies or evacuate wounded -- were immortalized in the book "We Were Soldiers Once ... And Young" and the 2002 film "We Were Soldiers."
Proudly watching his 73-year-old father at the White House will be Michael Crandall, a Penn State doctoral student living in Ferguson Township.
"I've known pretty much all my life that he deserved it," he said.
It took the Pentagon decades to agree.
Crandall became the Vietnam War's 246th Medal of Honor recipient -- and one of 3,461 dating to the Civil War -- after retired Col. Hal Moore, the infantry commander during Ia Drang, recommended a few years ago that Crandall's Distinguished Service Cross be upgraded.
A similar endorsement went to Crandall's wingman that long November day, retired Maj. Ed Freeman, who accepted the Medal of Honor in 2001 for volunteering to accompany his friend to Landing Zone X-Ray.
According to the Defense Department, three Medals of Honor have been awarded posthumously since Vietnam, and 39 have been given to amend errors or as a result of new evidence. But neither applied to Crandall, said Army spokesman Col. Tim Walters.
"It was a matter of re-looking at this case from a historical perspective and addressing something that was perceived to be worthy of the Medal of Honor," Walters said.
His wartime superiors may have been dissuaded from putting in a Medal of Honor citation because of the long chain of approval needed, Crandall said.
"It was so complicated to document these things while they were going on, and it was so detailed that no one had the time to do that," he said. "We weren't there for awards. We were there to fight."
Using the call sign "Ancient Serpent Six," then-Maj. Crandall was already an experienced pilot when he led 16 Hueys from Company A of the 1st Cavalry's 229th Aviation Battalion into the hot, dusty Ia Drang Valley.
On his fifth trip bringing in troops, North Vietnamese ground fire riddled his helicopter, striking his crew chief in the throat, killing one soldier and wounding two officers. Yet Crandall stayed long enough for four wounded to be loaded.
Before long, X-Ray became so hot Moore closed it. Medevac helicopters were ordered to stay away. Crandall, in his second helicopter, and Freeman repeatedly dropped into the smoke and fire, carrying ammunition in and wounded out.
"If the air bridge failed, the embattled men of the 1st Battalion, 7th Cavalry (Regiment) would certainly die in much the same way George Armstrong Custer's cavalrymen died at Little Big Horn -- cut off, surrounded by numerically superior forces, over-run and butchered to the last man," Moore wrote.
"I asked Bruce Crandall's brave aircrews for the last measure of devotion, for service far beyond the limits of duty and mission, and they came through as I knew they would."
In all, Crandall made 22 flights, spending 14 hours in the air, and evacuated 70 soldiers. Along with ammo crates and water bladders, his last trip at 10:30 p.m. carried Joseph Galloway, former Knight Ridder Newspapers senior military correspondent who, as a young journalist, survived the battle to co-write "We Were Soldiers Once ... and Young."
Knowing what the 1st Cavalry troopers faced motivated Crandall to keep returning.
"There was no way I would let those people die if I could get to them," he said.
Crandall went on to pull off a daring rescue of 12 wounded soldiers in 1966, twice slipping his helicopter into dense jungle -- a feat that garnered the Aviation & Space Writers Helicopter Heroism Award. A 1968 crash during another rescue attempt on his second tour broke his back and ended his war after 900 missions. Nine years later, he retired from the service.
Michael Crandall said he and his father recently talked about Ia Drang after news came of the Medal of Honor.
"He said, 'Mike, I didn't do what I did because of a medal,' " the son said. 'I did what I did because it was the right thing to do.' "
Retired Lt. Col. Bruce Crandall's aid to soldiers on Nov. 14, 1965, during the Vietnam War's bloody Battle of Ia Drang earned him a Distinguished Service Cross, the second-highest military award.
Now, his country is showing even more appreciation.
On Feb. 26, President Bush will present the Medal of Honor, the nation's top decoration, to the former Army pilot from Orchard Park, Wash. His heroic flights for encircled 1st Cavalry Division troops -- when nobody else could deliver supplies or evacuate wounded -- were immortalized in the book "We Were Soldiers Once ... And Young" and the 2002 film "We Were Soldiers."
Proudly watching his 73-year-old father at the White House will be Michael Crandall, a Penn State doctoral student living in Ferguson Township.
"I've known pretty much all my life that he deserved it," he said.
It took the Pentagon decades to agree.
Crandall became the Vietnam War's 246th Medal of Honor recipient -- and one of 3,461 dating to the Civil War -- after retired Col. Hal Moore, the infantry commander during Ia Drang, recommended a few years ago that Crandall's Distinguished Service Cross be upgraded.
A similar endorsement went to Crandall's wingman that long November day, retired Maj. Ed Freeman, who accepted the Medal of Honor in 2001 for volunteering to accompany his friend to Landing Zone X-Ray.
According to the Defense Department, three Medals of Honor have been awarded posthumously since Vietnam, and 39 have been given to amend errors or as a result of new evidence. But neither applied to Crandall, said Army spokesman Col. Tim Walters.
"It was a matter of re-looking at this case from a historical perspective and addressing something that was perceived to be worthy of the Medal of Honor," Walters said.
His wartime superiors may have been dissuaded from putting in a Medal of Honor citation because of the long chain of approval needed, Crandall said.
"It was so complicated to document these things while they were going on, and it was so detailed that no one had the time to do that," he said. "We weren't there for awards. We were there to fight."
Using the call sign "Ancient Serpent Six," then-Maj. Crandall was already an experienced pilot when he led 16 Hueys from Company A of the 1st Cavalry's 229th Aviation Battalion into the hot, dusty Ia Drang Valley.
On his fifth trip bringing in troops, North Vietnamese ground fire riddled his helicopter, striking his crew chief in the throat, killing one soldier and wounding two officers. Yet Crandall stayed long enough for four wounded to be loaded.
Before long, X-Ray became so hot Moore closed it. Medevac helicopters were ordered to stay away. Crandall, in his second helicopter, and Freeman repeatedly dropped into the smoke and fire, carrying ammunition in and wounded out.
"If the air bridge failed, the embattled men of the 1st Battalion, 7th Cavalry (Regiment) would certainly die in much the same way George Armstrong Custer's cavalrymen died at Little Big Horn -- cut off, surrounded by numerically superior forces, over-run and butchered to the last man," Moore wrote.
"I asked Bruce Crandall's brave aircrews for the last measure of devotion, for service far beyond the limits of duty and mission, and they came through as I knew they would."
In all, Crandall made 22 flights, spending 14 hours in the air, and evacuated 70 soldiers. Along with ammo crates and water bladders, his last trip at 10:30 p.m. carried Joseph Galloway, former Knight Ridder Newspapers senior military correspondent who, as a young journalist, survived the battle to co-write "We Were Soldiers Once ... and Young."
Knowing what the 1st Cavalry troopers faced motivated Crandall to keep returning.
"There was no way I would let those people die if I could get to them," he said.
Crandall went on to pull off a daring rescue of 12 wounded soldiers in 1966, twice slipping his helicopter into dense jungle -- a feat that garnered the Aviation & Space Writers Helicopter Heroism Award. A 1968 crash during another rescue attempt on his second tour broke his back and ended his war after 900 missions. Nine years later, he retired from the service.
Michael Crandall said he and his father recently talked about Ia Drang after news came of the Medal of Honor.
"He said, 'Mike, I didn't do what I did because of a medal,' " the son said. 'I did what I did because it was the right thing to do.' "
