As we grow older, we tend to think about when we were younger, even when we gathered as men or women around the food table or tea table. Our past events are sure to be served there also.
This is where many of my thoughts grow from. Today, I want to elaborate on something that is embedded within my mind that probably will never go away.
As I take you, for those readers who personally know, back to the days of Vietnam, I want to give thought to something familiar--war. That conflict began from mid-1950 and ended with the U.S. withdrawal of troops in 1975.
I was born in 1953 and graduated high school in 1972. This was the era of my enrichment of life’s education. Some of this did not seem so important until those who were close to me became involved.
My oldest brother, Harrison “Coley” Scogin, entered the Army first. But it was my middle brother, Richard Lee Scoggin, who stepped into Vietnam first. With Richard being a tall man at 6’4” they, of course, gave him the biggest gun of the platoon--the machine gun.
As he carried that big gun around, he encountered the enemy on a regular basis. I remember some of his stories he would tell me. And as a teenager, I would sit in amazement.
I recall two such stories. The first being of one where his platoon was on regular patrol. As they entered an area where there was a treeline across a field, his lieutenant called to him to set machine gun fire into that area.
As he dropped his weapon to the ground, he pulled the chamber back to fire his gun, but as he pulled the trigger, nothing happened. He chambered again and pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. Once again, he chambered his gun, but nothing happened.
In frustration to the weapon not working properly, the lieutenant told him to fall back and fix the gun. My brother grabbed the weapon, which had never failed to fire, and pulled back to work on it.
The lieutenant then dropped his rifle to set firing into the wood line. As the bullets started ringing out, the enemy spotted his gun firing and hit him with three bullets. They had come upon an encampment of North Vietnamese soldiers. My brother said he pulled the chamber back again and for almost four hours, the gun never failed.
Another story he told me was, as they were on patrol during extremely heavy rains, he lost his glasses in a swamp they had encamped in.
For anyone who knew my brother, he was as blind as a bat without them. They were returning to base camp by the way of a local village which they had to pass through. He said he could not see things and what he did see was blurred and cloudy.
As they separated to pass through the village, he went down a walking trail made by the local villagers which he alone traveled. He said all of a sudden, someone tapped him on his shoulder. This alarmed him since there was supposed to be no one behind him.
He turned with his weapon, but noticed it was a large black man in army fatigues who had gotten his attention. The man never spoke, but pointed to the front of where he was walking. About ten feet away, there was a grenade trip wire stretched across that path.
He said he did not
recognize the man, but turned and stepped over the wire. As he turned to give him a wave of thanks, he found no one there or anywhere around.
I want to add to this a personal story that happened after he returned home. I had driven him to town for business reasons of his, and upon returning home, we pulled into our parents’ driveway.
As we were getting out of the vehicle, a gunshot was heard from across the main highway at a little country store. It startled me. I turned to my brother but could not find him. I called out loud, “Where are you?”
As I walked around the car to his side, I watched him crawling from under my car. Knowing why he was there, I smiled at him as he gave me an aggravated look. He said, “I suppose it’s going to take me a while now that I’m home.”
During Richard’s term of service in Vietnam, we heard my oldest brother, Coley, was headed there. Richard or “Rick,” after 11 months there, was pulled from the field.
For many, the name Rick Scogin might bring him to your remembrance. He was once a candidate for city councilman. His wife was Nadine Scogin, who owned a beauty salon across from The Ramp.
Now for my oldest brother, Coley, as he entered the war in Vietnam, the battles did not stop, but only grew worse. He was a crew chief, or door gunner, on a helicopter in the battles.
Upon conversations with him, I found many of his stories very intriguing, and I asked myself what kind of soldier I would have been. As I now recall his life in Vietnam and describe one of his stories of many battles, I am brought to mind how blessed I was to not go there.
One of those stories was most amazing. I hope for those who know about war, I get it correct. He told me during one day of his many contacts with the enemy, he and his helicopter crew had dropped off a reconnaissance group of soldiers. This was at a designated point decided by the superiors.
After they returned to the base camp, alarms started going off, so they instantly regrouped and went back to pick those soldiers up. By chance, those soldiers had been set at a point where they directly confronted a large group of North Vietnamese soldiers. By the time they returned to the drop site, it was getting dusk dark.
The enemy, of course, turned much of the gunfire towards those helicopters. My brother said because the enemy used multicolored tracer bullets, it looked like Christmas as those bullets came in contact and passed through his helicopter.
They sat down on the ground. As they did, he unsnapped his machine gun from the harness, stepped to the ground and grabbed the soldiers to load his helicopter, giving them a sling into it, all the while placing machine gun fire into the enemy, keeping them pinned down so they could load.
He said adrenaline and fear were passing through him at the same time, but he could give no time to thought. As he finished the story, he stated, “Mens’ lives were at stake. It was my job to protect, and I gave all my God-given abilities to the situation.”
You see, it didn’t matter if you were black, white, rich or poor or even what your religious belief was--my brother stood between those soldiers and the enemy. He was willing to lay down his life for them. The Bible states in John 15:13, “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.”
When he returned home, Coley showed me something he would not talk about much. During that one-year tour in Vietnam, he received three Bronze Stars and several flight metals. Those Bronzes Stars were for bravery beyond the call and his overwhelming will to put in his time of action. I tell people Sylvester Stallone has nothing on my brother.
Stories come to our lives in what we face every day. As my brothers, for 23 months, were fighting for our country, I would lie at night without sleep and pray for them.
I would sometimes be awakened at night by the desperate cries of my parents from their bedroom, because at some of those same times of danger, God would awaken them and say, “Pray.”
To me, there were two fronts of soldiering. One was where the gun was picked up by hands. The other was when the sword of prayer was picked up by hands at home. I say to anyone reading this, it’s up to us to decide our future and only One can make it happen the way it should. As a pastor of a church, I must tell you all rights are given by God to fulfill our God-given purpose.
As millions of Americans stepped onto foreign soil for freedom and patriotism to our country, we must never let those who died be forgotten in death.
Take the time to visit the monument at the corner of the courthouse. Let’s not forget so many others who fought in well-known battles of war. As we view so many pictures of these wars, we must not forget the men and women who were there.
Remind those in the servicing of veterans, they have a responsibility to those veterans. While these men and women picked up a weapon to safeguard this country and our rights, some would fall in death and disabilities, so others could go to school and become doctors, lawyers or other professions. Those who died for us did not get that chance.
When I look at my two brothers today, the way I see them is much different than when I was a teenager.
To visit my middle brother, I must drive to a gravesite. He ended his life through a war-generated disease called PTSD. My oldest brother has to walk around using two canes because of Agent Orange disease.
The cost for them became high for their services. Yet, so many gripe and complain that life, as we live it, isn’t fair. Take another look in the mirror and ask, “What have I made of myself?”
In closing, the wars being fought today have grown into conflicts that now use AI and extreme levels of technology. Boots on the ground are rare compared to the past. Without a doubt, we are headed for many more wars and conflicts.
As we watch the sunrise on any given day, that same sunrise shines on the graves of those who gave the ultimate sacrifice. I am forever grateful to my brothers for serving. And I thank God for all our veterans and their families.
(Editor’s note: Ron Scogin wrote this column especially to be shared near the Veterans Day observance. He has retired from several occupations and now pastors at the Restoration Community Church, while also enjoying theological writings on the Bible.)
See complete story in the Journal Record.
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