Reunion helps heal wounds 46 years after Vietnam War

After long separation they discover they’ve still ‘got each other’s back’

By Ed Nadolski

Editor in Chief

Forty-six years ago, they shared a set of bunk beds and the tenuous but nonetheless comforting war-zone notion that they had each other’s back.

They were a couple of kids from the states who spent their days driving heavy equipment up and down a potholed and often washed-out highway along the Vietnamese coast. They were stuck in a place where the only thing that broke up the boredom was terror and trapped in a paradox of time that had them risking their lives in a war their home nation did its best to forget.

When fate intervened – for one in the form of a sniper’s bullet and for the other a landmine – they each lost their precious link to that tiny bit of brotherly comfort.

Wounds were bandaged and memories tinged with fear and longing were stuffed into the footlocker of the mind and padlocked away by the reality of life back in the United States.

But try as they might, the soldiers could not silence the ghosts in the footlocker. While they rarely discussed their service in Vietnam, the horrors in the footlocker found a way to seep into their lives like a foul sewer gas that infiltrates mind and body, wreaking havoc on physical and mental health.

Nearly 50 years later and living separate lives far apart, they were still battling the jagged edges of war’s effects without the small, but affirming presence of the one person who truly understands.

“I’ve got your back.”

The battle still rages

Earlier this year, longtime Burlington resident Jim Kendall had hit bottom. Kendall, 66, has battled cancer and other health problems for years. First it was prostate cancer and heart problems, then kidney cancer and now bone and liver cancer. He is clinically depressed – a diagnosis he suspected many years ago and blames on his time in Vietnam, but was never rendered until 2006 when he broke down crying in the Veterans Service Office and couldn’t stop.

“That was the first time I ever opened up about it,” Kendall said recently, revealing that he suffered cold sweats and thrashed in his bed while tormented with memories of the war in Vietnam.

These days Jim’s wife Marcia – retired longtime administrative assistant for the Burlington Area Chamber of Commerce – accompanies him to counseling for the effects of post-traumatic stress syndrome.

But some days, even counseling and an understanding wife fail to slay the demons – as was the case on that dark day earlier this year.

However, that same day, Steve Mefford – the same Steve Mefford who shared a set of bunk beds in a barracks in Vietnam 46 years ago – “called me out of the blue,” Jim said.

“I could just hear it in his voice (that) he was down,” said Mefford, 66, of California. “I thought, ‘This isn’t how I pictured things.’ I told him he had to pick up his attitude and I told him I was coming to see him.

“In six months as bunkmates we became pretty close,” Steve continued. “I just thought, ‘I’ve got to go see him and hash some of this stuff out.’”

The reunion

While Jim and Steve had spoken several times by telephone in recent years, their long-anticipated reunion didn’t take place until early September of this year when Steve came to Burlington for a weeklong visit with Jim and his wife.

In between dinners at local restaurants and a boat ride on Geneva Lake, Jim and Steve finally took time to rehash the impact of those six months in 1967-68 when they were 19 and 20, respectively.

And while both – like many Vietnam veterans – rarely discussed their experiences with others, they had no problem when in each other’s company recalling the good times and crying over the bad times they were asked to endure in service to their country.

“When we picked (Steve) up on Monday, I made a statement that I’d probably be talked out by the end of the week,” Jim said.

But five days later, the conversation was still going strong. “It hasn’t bothered me probably because it’s Steve,” Jim said at the time.

Jim recalled the time six years ago when he returned to Burlington from a vacation and listened to the message on his answering machine that began with, “Hi, this is Steve Mefford…”

“I didn’t know if Steve lived or died,” Jim said. “I just pushed it out of my mind. I called (back) and we must’ve talked and cried on the phone for about an hour.”

That was the call that set the stage for September’s visit and set in motion the wonderfully therapeutic reunion that had both men marveling at the similar arcs their lives had followed since departing Vietnam.

Back in 1967

Jim, who grew up in Burlington, and Steve, who hails from the northern California community of Redding, were heavy equipment operators with the U.S. Army’s 18th Engineering Battalion. Jim, who enlisted, was in Vietnam about two months before Steve, who was drafted, showed up.

“I met him and things clicked as far as having someone you could trust to watch your back,” Jim said.

Not the types to sit back and watch, both Jim and Steve volunteered for all sorts of duty. Jim said it was the best way to avoid the guilt that often eats at those who sat out whenever casualties were involved.

While their primary duty, at least initially, was driving tractor-trailer trucks hauling supplies needed for the rebuilding of the often bombed-out Highway 1, they soon found themselves driving platoon leaders around to various job sites with Steve behind the wheel of a Jeep and Jim manning a machine gun mounted on back.

Steve, tapping into his love of cars, had recently rebuilt a Jeep with a ¾-inch steel plate for added protection and new paint job.

However, the auspiciously shiny Jeep attracted the wrong attention on Feb. 2, 1968. Steve was driving a platoon leader just three days into the massive Tet Offensive when the Jeep was hit by sniper fire.

A bullet tore through Steve’s lower leg. He looked down to see blood oozing out of his boot.

A tourniquet was placed on his leg and he was taken to a field hospital where he spent four terrifying nights wedged between mattresses on the floor as mortar rounds exploded in the area.

“I couldn’t get up and run,” lamented Steve, who eventually was airlifted to regular hospital where he spent more than four months battling the bullet wound and a staph infection before being sent home to the states with 58 days left on his tour.

Jim’s story

Fatefully, Jim was assigned to Steve’s Jeep on Feb. 3, just one day after Steve was wounded. The Jeep was bringing up the rear of a convoy when the lead vehicle hit a landmine. Jim’s Jeep was called up to the front and he was ordered to fire his machine gun into a hillside from a spot just off the main road.

As the Jeep was backing up to return to the road, a rear wheel struck a landmine and Jim was launched skyward. He bounced off the road and landed in a ditch with both eardrums shattered.

The added steel plate on the Jeep perhaps played a role in Jim’s survival, he speculated, adding another example to the “I’ve-got-your-back” kinship he has with Steve.

Because there was no room for those who weren’t seriously injured at the field hospital, Jim was sent back to his base where he struggled with complete hearing loss for 10 days.

He was eventually put back on duty before his superiors determined the hearing loss he continued to battle was too great a liability.

He was sent back to the U.S. in April, where he served out the remainder of his enlistment, including a six-month convalescence at Valley Forge Hospital, under the constant worry of a return to Vietnam.

The 6-foot, 4-inch Jim weighed 212 pounds when he arrived in Vietnam. He weighed 175 pounds when he returned to the states.

Separated for decades

Due to their separate injuries, Jim and Steve lost all contact while still in Vietnam.

“Not knowing what happened to your best friend is a heavy burden,” Jim said.

While they had no contact for four decades, today both men are amazed how similar their lives progressed – for good and bad.

First the bad: Both have suffered flashbacks, battled cancer (perhaps linked to the use of Agent Orange in Vietnam), and have been stricken by heart attacks.

But they are also buoyed by the fact that both live in rural areas, enjoy hunting, ride Harley-Davidson motorcycles and are members of the Patriot Guard – motorcyclists who honor fallen soldiers with patriotic and supportive presence at funerals.

The peace they’ve found in each other’s presence lingers and will bring the men together again in the future, both promise.

The Kendalls moved from Burlington to Florida in October and Steve has a standing invitation to visit whenever he is able. Likewise, Jim is welcome at Steve’s new home in Ventura, Calif.

Time and the lingering impact of war has changed both men’s views of military service and armed conflict.

“I guess I believed in the American Dream – Uncle Sam wants you,” Jim said. “I don’t believe that any more. I’m a little sour on that.

“I was trained to operate a bulldozer and I ended up carrying a machine gun,” he added.

Steve said he hopes mankind eventually learns its lesson.

“I think some (soldiers) would have been better off to die on the field than to come back and suffer through what they’ve had to,” he said. “And we just keep sending them into war.”

For both, however, there is one thing the Vietnam War will not destroy – their commitment to each other.

“Having someone watch your back is so important,” Jim concluded.