The last veteran we are featuring at this time is Mr. Bobby Joe Moulds.
I had the privilege of interviewing Mr. Moulds and Mr. Robinson. Normally, Brittney Mangum does the interviews, but I had to step in and help this time. It’s hard to put into words how I felt as they each sat and told me a small piece of their story of their times in Vietnam.
As I listened to these men talk and relive the memories of Vietnam, my heart broke for these men. They did what most of us will never have to face. They did what was called of them. What thanks did they get when coming home? Not all were warm and welcoming. I am so thankful that these men can finally tell their side. I’m thankful that these men can receive the thanks they deserve for serving our country when they had no choice.
After interviewing these courageous men, I have new respect for these men who fought and survived. I also now understand why there are so many who choose to not ever speak about their time at all.
To all the vets that allowed us a sneak peek into their memories, thank you for allowing us to tell your story.
Brittney and I hope you have enjoyed the series as much as we had interviewing these amazing men.
Mr. Bobby Joe was in the Army from 1966 to 1968, and his experience being sent overseas was rather unique.
“I had been married one month, and I went in somebody else’s place,” recalled Bobby Joe. “I wasn’t supposed to go when I went. My friend got drafted, but his brother was already in Vietnam, so they called me. I understand that. It was fine. I went with all my buddies in Rose Hill, and we went to basic together. I ran into one of them when I was in Vietnam. The saddest story is that he got back in July. Deer seasoned opened, and the first week of deer season, he was going home and somebody pulled out in front of him and killed him.”
While there, all the soldiers had each others’ backs at all times and fought to defend each other in battle.
“I’m thankful that I did what I did for my country, but once you get over there, you didn’t do it for your country,” explained Bobby Joe. “What I did it for was my buddy on my right, my buddy on my left, and the ones behind me. That was all that was important because I knew I could count on him, him, and him. They knew they could count on me, and that’s what it was. I’ll tell you now, you’ve never lived until you’ve figured that you’re fixing to die.”
When he first made it to Vietnam, he was assigned a job.
“Everybody had a job, but when it came to fighting, everybody was a soldier; you picked up your rifle and did what you needed to do,” informed Bobby Joe. “I was stationed at Pleiku. When you first get there, they send somebody to the replacement station to pick you up and take you to your unit. This nice, clean cut, young guy came, and he was looking sharp. We got to talking, and he asked where I was from. I told him Mississippi, and he said that he was too. I asked him where he was from, and he said Tupelo. I told him I was from Meridian because everybody knows where that is, but no one knows where Rose Hill is. He took me where I was supposed to be, and the next morning, I reported to the shop that I was supposed to work out of. I went in, and the sergeant was at his desk kicked back with his feet up. He asked where I was from, and I told him a little place he’s probably never heard of called Rose Hill. He said that he was from Laurel. I gave him my papers, and he said, ‘Moulds, Moulds, Moulds.’ He said that he didn’t need any small arms repairmen and that he needed artillery and asked if I thought I could fix the artillery. I didn’t know what an artillery piece was. He told me they were big guns on tracks, and I told him if he would show me how to get up on them then I would try to work on them. I became the artillery repairman.”
The job he was assigned was extremely dangerous.
“They put me doing 175s and 8 inches,” continued Bobby Joe. “It’s a 175 on a track, like a tank, but the barrel is 33 feet long. The eight inchers shot shells about eight inches around, but they had short barrels. When you shot 300 rounds through it, you had to change the tube. Sometimes, I would be riding on the convoy or driving a flatbed truck hauling those long tubes, and we’d have to go through villages. Little kids would be out waving at us, and all at once a grenade would go off. In the job they put me in, my life expectancy was like six or eight weeks because they figured if they could shoot the guy that’s working on the guns and the guns went down, then they couldn’t fire them. I didn’t get to come out much in the daytime unless we had a fire mission. I stayed underground.”
Something else he had to do showed just how dangerous it was for all the soldiers in Vietnam.
“The strange part was a 19-year-old boy or 18-year-old filling out a will,” added Bobby Joe. “You had to fill out a military will to say where you wanted your benefits to go and all that.”
Naturally, there was fear, but he found a source of comfort through it.
“The first two or three months, I was scared to death. I was totally scared to death. I’d wake up every morning wondering if I was going to die today. I’d go to sleep at night wondering if I was going to die tonight. You get tired of that,” proclaimed Bobby Joe. “I’d read my little New Testament Bible that they gave me. I’d read a verse every night, and that’s how I kept my sanity. One night, God told me that I was going to be okay and was going to make it. I didn’t throw caution to the wind, but I had a better feeling about myself.”
Life definitely wasn’t easy for him.
“I stayed pinned down on the fire base for one month with hardly any water and no food,” remembered Bobby Joe.
He worked hard and was forced to grow up while over there.
“I went over as a boy and came back as a man. I didn’t get to take an R and R. I stayed in the country the whole 11 months and 24 days. It was just an experience I wouldn’t take anything for,” recalled Bobby Joe. “I made three grades while I was over there. I went over there a PLC. I made spec four, spec five, and E-6. That’s unheard of then because artillery repairmen were getting shot and killed.”
With the way his job worked, he was marked as missing just before returning home.
“I had two weeks left in the country, and I was supposed to come home,” expressed Bobby Joe. “I came in from the field once a month just to sign my pay voucher. I came back to my company, and I couldn’t find anybody; everybody was gone. Come to find out, they had moved 90 miles further south. They didn’t know where I was. They’d already written my family and told them I was missing in action and all that. I got all that straightened out. I was just one person that they couldn’t keep up with because whatever happened at this gun site, I had to go there. If it happened over here, I’d have to go there. They didn’t know where I was unless I came in once a month. They knew I was still alive if I came in and signed my pay voucher.”
Life when he first returned home wasn’t easy. He definitely didn’t receive the welcome he deserved for all the service he provided.
“When I got out, I left Fort Lewis, Washington, on commercial aircraft. I was in uniform and was really proud of it with all my little medals. When I went and sat down on the plane, there were maybe 25 people on the plane. I sat on one side, and nobody sat on that side. Everybody sat on the other side,” remembered Bobby Joe. “When we landed in Fort Lewis, we had to stay on the plane for four hours because of the protests. They were protesting us. We begged to get off, but there’s no telling what would have happened if we had gotten off. For years, I never let anybody know I went to Vietnam. Back then, if you didn’t know me and I didn’t know anything about you, then I wasn’t going to tell you anything. I didn’t want questions.”
He was blessed to make it home alive, but not everyone he knew was so lucky.
“I’m the only one in my family to come back from Vietnam,” declared Bobby Joe. “I had three cousins over there. All three of them got killed different ways. One of them drowned. They had a flash flood, and they couldn’t get out. It wiped out a whole platoon. I never used to go to family reunions because I didn’t have the guts to face them.”
Even some holidays possess strong memories of how blessed he was to make it home alive.
“Every Thanksgiving is a hard memory,” proclaimed Bobby Joe. “I was married at the time and was moving one of those big gun tubes. You have to move it to a special place to get it to fit. Janice had gotten me a wedding ring, and the ring turned some way and pinched my finger. The ring came down and almost cut my finger off. I went to the aid station, and they fixed me up. As I was leaving, the choppers just started coming in. I helped stack up maybe 75 to 100 body bags from Hill 875 during Thanksgiving. I didn’t know them, but their families didn’t know they had died and were just celebrating Thanksgiving. That’s one of the hardest things that I can face during Thanksgiving.”
Life was different for him when he returned home. It wasn’t easy returning to civilian life after enduring so much trauma overseas.
“When I first got back, my first wife said, ‘I don’t know you.’ That hurt so bad,” stated Bobby Joe. “It was difficult. I wasn’t married but one month when I went into the service, and I got back and thought we would start a family. Due to complications, we weren’t able to start a family.”
Later on, he unfortunately lost his first wife.
“I lost her when a blood clot went through her heart. I was holding her. I wish I could have done more. I was young and didn’t know,” continued Bobby Joe. “I kept calling a nurse to come in. She’d come in and give her a hypo, and come to find out, that’s what kept on inducing the blood clot. The night she passed, my good friend from Lake Eddins, Ed, came, and I told Janice we were going out to eat. She told me to bring her something good. Janice asked if I needed any money, and I told her I would take some. She gave me a dollar, kidding, and told me not to spend it just anywhere because it might be the last one she gave me. She was just joking. We went out and had a steak. Mr. Ed bought her one, and they left. From there, it went downhill.”
Of course, God blessed him with another wife, Diane, who was able to understand him and what all he endured.
“My wife now was in the Army,” declared Bobby Joe. “We’ve been married going on 51 years. She never went to Vietnam. She understands me. She understands my moods. She understands that I need to get by myself sometimes. She understands my nightmares. She just totally understands. God sent her to me. There ain’t no doubt in my mind.”
Over the years, he has worked on changing his perspective involving those who fled to avoid the experience he had.
“I was drafted. I didn’t ask to go to Vietnam. The country asked me, and I went,” informed Bobby Joe. “I felt so horrible towards the guys that didn’t go—that fled to Canada. Then, they got a welcome back home, everything is okay, and we’re not going to press charges—you know, open arms. That sort of burnt me at the time. Now when I look at it, it’s okay. Nothing came out of us going to Vietnam except telling Russia we were willing to sacrifice 54, 449 people, so you better not mess with us or we’ll sacrifice some more. We lost the war, but we never lost a battle. Anytime we had a fight, we won.”
Now, he appreciates all who acknowledge Vietnam veterans in a more positive light. It is very clear that opinions of the soldiers who valiantly fought in the war have changed over the years.
“I never used to wear a hat, but I got this one that says Vietnam Vet, and a fellow came up and asked me if I wear it to get recognition. I said no. He asked why I wear it then. I said it’s to let my other brothers know that I’m here and if they knew me, they could count on me. He said oh and turned around and walked off,” explained Bobby Joe. “Within the last three years, I started wearing it, and young people come up to me and thank me for my service. When that started, I didn’t know how to handle it. When people thank me for my service, especially the young ones, I say thank you, you’re the kind of people that was worth fighting for. The ironic thing is people nowadays come up and say, ‘Welcome home!’ It’s okay, but I’ve been home 50 years. From my perspective, it’s better to say, ‘I’m glad you made it home’ because most of us have already been home for 50 years already, so it’s too late to say, ‘Welcome home.’”
To all the Vietnam veterans, I want to say thank you for your service and I’m glad you made it home.
