Stories From the Aid Tent: SGM Ben Hasley

Ken Harbaugh:

I’m Ken Harbaugh, host of Warriors In Their Own Words. In partnership with the Honor Project, we’ve brought this podcast back at a time when our nation needs these stories more than ever.

Warriors in Their Own Words is our attempt to present an unvarnished, unsanitized truth of what we have asked of those who defend this nation. Thank you for listening, and by doing so, honoring those who have served.

Today, we’ll hear from Sergeant Major Ben Hasley. Hasley served in Korea and Vietnam as a medic, and was awarded two Purple Hearts.

SGM Ben Hasley:

Well, at 19, I was drafted into the military, and took my basic training at Fort Meade, Maryland, and I took my advance training, AIT, here at the ... It's the Academy of Health Science now, but then it was the Medical Field Service School. And went shortly thereafter to Korea. I was assigned to a field hospital, initially, for about six months, less than six .... It's been so long ago. At least, a couple of months, and I volunteered for an infantry, the combat unit, because we were only getting four points a month, and the points that you accumulated determined how long you would stay in Korea.

I had some distasteful duties at the hospital. I was in an MP-type outfit guarding the hospital. We were guarding the hospital 24 hours around the clock. We worked 12 on, 12 off type of situation, and that was really untenable. It was hard to handle. So, a couple of us got together, and we decided that we'd volunteer for the 7th Infantry Division, because they needed people, and, of course, if I knew then what I later found out, I would have very much stayed where I was, but, be it as it was, we were accepted, and transferred to the 7th Infantry Division.

Arrived at the 7th Infantry Division, a repo, Replacement Outfit, and they needed infantrymen, they needed people, they needed gun shooters, and so, those of us that were medics found ourselves in line units, and I wound up being ammo barrel for a 50 caliber machine gunner. Of course, the life expectancy, or time of a machine gunner on the job was very limited, and so, eventually, I became a machine gunner from an ammo barrel. I managed the 50 caliber for about three weeks. Then we got hit pretty hard, and we lost quite a few people.

In the meantime, we'd lost a lot of medics throughout the regiment. I was assigned to the 31st Infantry Regiment, and the regiment had lost quite a few medics, and they got to looking around, and the personnel folks said that, "You've got a lot of medics in the line units. We can't requisition you any more medics. So, you should use what you have."

So, I wound up getting back into the medics, and I was assigned as an aidman for an infantry company, a combat medic, and we were constantly under fire. In most cases, it was quite hectic, at times. We lost quite a few people the first skirmish that when I was assigned to medic, and managed to take care of most of the folks adequately, I thought. Even though, I did not feel that I had sufficient training to do what I was doing, but I learned by doing actually the basic aid techniques and procedures, and it became second hand, once you were on the job, and do a job, and you can see the results of it, where you think that you've saved someone's life, it becomes second nature, and you're constantly ...

Once you go into a fire fight, you're always afraid. Any time you're in combat, you're in a state of constant fear, and when someone cries, "Medic," you crawl to him, and do the best you can, get him patched up, and pull him to safety, if he's exposed, and then you get him evacuated.

I spent some time in the line, and I graduated back to the medical company where after a while, I became the collecting platoon sergeant responsible for the collection, and treatment of all casualties that incurred in the battalions.

When I arrived in the infantry regiment, 31st Infantry Regiment, I never gave any thought to being a medic, because, initially, I was thrown into a rifle company as a rifleman, and I became a machine gunner, and after a fashion, they discovered that they needed medics, and then a lot of us were medics, and they pulled us out, and put us into a medical unit.

Then I went to work immediately in one of the line companies, as a company aidman, and I didn't feel, at the time, that I was adequately ... I didn't feel that I had sufficient training to be an aidman, and I think most medics have that feeling once you train, and you graduate, and you suddenly fall into combat, you don't feel that you have adequate training. But, actually, my training was sufficient for what I was supposed to do, and, fortunately, I was able to apply it unconsciously. I felt that after about three weeks, or so, I felt gratifying that I was doing a job, and doing a good job, and I felt gratified, and, at the time, I felt I was a pretty good medic.

Most of us, particularly, the company medics, the aidmen, we were well-respected, and we were depended upon, and the infantrymen, as I remember, really felt uncomfortable, really got upset when I had to leave, and go back to my medical company for a couple of days, or so, and, especially if they were going out on patrols, and they get into fire fights, they were really uneasy about not having their doc with them.

They did feel that I was a good omen. I suppose it was like the feeling that we had for the priest when I was in Vietnam. We always had a good feeling when he would visit our team. He would visit our team maybe once a week, and when we felt that when he was there, we would never get hit by the VC, because they mortared the devil out most of the time, but, usually, when the padre came, we didn't have any problems out of the VC for that night, so we felt comfortable.

I imagine that's where the line fell with us. I don't know if it was mentioned that in my unit that I was a good luck charm, but I had the feeling that they felt I was a lucky thing for them.

They come to look on you as their doc. More than just another soldier, and they respect you, and they believe that if something should happen to them, that you do your best to make sure that you try to keep them alive.

It's a bonding. They bond with you, and once they bond with you, they make you feel like you're somebody really. It's a good feeling. You develop a comradeship that I don't think it's difficult to write, and even to talk about, but it's tremendous. It's a good feeling. It's a good feeling. Tremendous feeling. And it really make you proud of your job for that particular job. It makes you feel good. I imagine it's difficult for soldiers that are not exposed to combat, and even during peacetime when your life is not put on the line, and you don't go through those things that you go through in war.

So, it's difficult for a lot of the young medics that are going out now to understand, or feel, have the same type of appreciation for what they are doing.

Yes we were targets, particularly, in Korea, and in Korea, we used ... In World War II, they wore the Red Cross Geneva, and the red and white, white but with red cross on their helmets. We didn't dare do that in Korea. We didn't dare do that in Vietnam. You camouflaged, because they'd use it for targets. We didn't do it. And they didn't show any difference to medics.

Fortunately, for me, the first time I was wounded in Korea, I was with medics. I was in the medical company, and we got ... Somehow, or another, the Chinese snuck in some artillery on us, and heavy artillery, and they were really aiming at an American artillery battery that was positioned in front of us. And as they were lobbing that artillery onto our artillery battery, they skipped, and hit the medical company. Unfortunately, we took a couple of good hits, and we lost about five, or six of our medics in the medical company. I took some shrapnel in the head, not much, just grazed me. Of course, I was out for I don't know how long, but when I came to, I was all patched up, and the doc felt that all I had was a slight concussion, and we were a little short of people, at any rate.

I stayed in the medical company ... If I'd had been in the line company, I would have been evacuated, but since I was in the medical company, and I was there, and they could take care of me, because it was only a minor wound, and I wasn't evacuated.

It was terribly cold. I remember on one operation, we incurred a lot of casualties. That's when I learned to hate the damn press. They were all over the place with cameras, and trying to interview us. They really got in the way.

I had this one kid, and I remember after this camera person had gotten out of the way, and I moved them out of the way, this one kid had multiple wounds. Now these casualties ... See, because I was working at the aid station, at the time. I was a platoon sergeant for the collecting station. This one casualty that I was working on had multiple injuries, wounds, and I started the plasma, because that's usually the first thing is you try to get the bleeding, you want to replenish the fluids. And I was giving this kid plasma, and I finally got it connected, and I went onto another patient, and I came back, and discovered that it had frozen up. I don't know whether it was ice, or what, because this plasma has a tendency to clog up, because it clots, but, at any rate, I felt it had frozen, and it had stopped. The kid died on me. And when that happened, I really, really felt terrible, because I felt it was my fault. I felt that if I could have stayed there, I would have ensured that the fluid would have continued to flow, and I just really felt bad.

But, shortly thereafter, I went on to another patient, and then the doctor called me into the aid tent, the surgery tent, and he wanted a tracheotomy tube, and he said, "I need a tracheotomy tube." So, I went looking for the doggone trach tube, and I said, "I ordered six, doc, but I think we're out." When I told him that, he said, "Goddamn it, he's going to die." When he said that, it looked as if something inside my head exploded, and I just began to float. What had happened is that I could hear the doctor telling me, "It wasn't your fault. It's not your fault." Something to that effect.

But, anyway, what had happened, I had been going for 36 hours. I had a nervous breakdown. I lost it. But when I finally woke up, and I thought I had been out for days, and discovered I only slept for about an hour, they told me two hours.

So, then the doctor was saying, "It wasn't your fault," but I felt guilty from that kid that I thought I had lost, and then the fact that I didn't have enough trach tubes on hand, and that was the straw that broke the camel's back, at least, for me.

I remember once I had one that go berserk on me. We were in a fire fight, and this one Vietnamese corporal just lost it. He just froze, could not move, and it was because he had this fear, and we had been going for 24 hours. He had succumbed to stress, and that stress is a very, very prominent thing. Fear is constant. And then he refused to move. We had got some suppressing fire to make the VC put their head down, and we had to move, and I had to actually carry him out, pull him out, and drag him, because people had ran off, and left was just three advisors, at this particular position, and got him back.

And, eventually, once he got some rest, and he was able to cope, you learned to cope. There's a constant state of fear, but you learn to cope. The thing about in combat, if you do not get sufficient sleep, or if you don't get enough sleep over a given period of time, you are very prone to succumb to stress.

Well, I remember back when I first arrived in Korea, and when I was first assigned, as a medic, I had this kid that we'd got hit by mortars, and it shattered his thigh, and just shattered his left thigh, and it hit his kneecap, and his leg was dangling. I didn't have a splint. I didn't have a regular splint. So, I had to use his rifle to splint his leg, and, of course, I was taught to do this. This is basic training, a splint with a rifle, but I couldn't stop the bleeding, and, even though, I put the bandage on, and got it real, real tight, and I couldn't put the tourniquet ... A tourniquet wouldn't have done any good. I attempted to do a tourniquet up here, but I knew it wasn't sufficient.

Even though, I did all I know I could have done, I just felt inadequate. That was one of the time, I really felt inadequate, and the time after that, when I lost a kid at the collecting station, when he died on me, and I thought the fluid had frozen, I felt inadequate then.

But looking back, I understand the position that I was in, and I realize that I did all I could do.

I had this friend of mine. We had taken basic training together, and he got really hit. He lost both legs. He was evacuated to the aid station, and to the collecting station where I was the collecting sergeant, and I was the principal enlisted person that worked with the doctor. And Sam came in, and he recognized me, and he said, "Ben," and said, "Boy, I think I did it. I don't think I'm going to make it, Ben." Then he said, "Would you stay with me?" I had worked in ... "Would you stay with me a minute? Stay with me, Ben. I want to tell you something, and I want you to write, and tell my wife," and he told me what to tell his wife, and the fact that he thought he was going to be evacuated, but he knew he was going to be evacuated, but he didn't have any idea that he was going to die, at the time.

And when we had gotten him ready to be evacuated, we moved him out, and were waiting in the helicopter, and he died. So, I wrote the letter to his wife. Normally, the medics don't write letters to patients. That's a commander's responsibility, but I wrote a letter to her, as a friend, because we had taken basic training, and we went through basic together.

I was a medical advisor in Vietnam, during both tours. I took advisor training, and went to Vietnam, and I became a medical advisor. I took advisor training, and then as a medic, and assigned to units, an advisor element as a medic, and I became a medical advisor.

As a medical advisor, your job mostly was a trainer. We had the responsibility for training the regional popular forces. I was assigned to a province, and then district. A province is like a state, the district is like a county. Each district, we had medical advisors that advised the district chief, which, in most cases, was a Vietnamese regular army officer assigned to the district, similar to a district governor. We were his principal advisors, American advisors, and what we did, essentially, we trained the Vietnamese, their regional popular forces, which is similar to our national guard. We trained them to protect themselves, and we trained them in all aspects of military functions.

My job was to train the Vietnamese medics, and give assistance to their medical chiefs of their dispensary type. So, I was principal advisor to the dispensary chief, we called him, and then I trained the Vietnamese medics.

As a team, we would coalesce with the Vietnamese, and help them to police their district, and when we did that, we had the capability to bring in American artillery, or American fighter aircraft to suppress any enemy opposition, if we ran into. So, we were essential to that district, in that we could bring in the whirl, if that was required.

We'd get hit often times, and what we'd do would immediately the next day go out, and beat the bushes. We'd go and patrol, and patrol there, because we would look for ... The idea was to go out, and see if they would stash any ammunition, or position any aiming sticks, because the VC would position aiming stakes, and stash ammo, and they'd come back, and pound you at night.

So, on one of these patrols, we got ambushed, and, unfortunately, I got zapped again. This time, I got it in the shoulder, and I went back, because I was evacuated back to the hospital, and I thought I had won me a ticket home, but, unfortunately, they sent me to a convalescence center, and I convalesced, and went back to work.

You don't gain anything in war, but you gain appreciation for life, and for people that have to go into combat, it's difficult to prepare mentally for the experience that they will encounter, but if a person is well-trained, and knows his job, and knows how to survive, or has been taught to survive, that knowing how to survive, and being able to survive is the most valuable asset one can have.

My advice to all medics, and all soldiers, is to train well, and be prepared for the worst, because if one is subject to be deployed in a combat situation, once there, it's too late to train.

Being a medic, I think I've said most of it, is being an individual that you know you're capable of helping soldiers, and, of course, that's your purpose. That's your purpose of helping and taking care of soldiers, because it's every army NCO's responsibility, and commander officers, is their ability just taking care of soldier, but being a medic in combat, taking care of soldiers, I think it's a cut above everything that everybody else does.

Ken Harbaugh:

That was SGM Ben Hasley.

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Warriors In Their Own Words is a production of Evergreen Podcasts, in partnership with The Honor Project.

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