Peschel

From Greg Bachnik, LZ Russell Chaplain

I would like to write a memorial to James D. Peschel. How long is it now, 33 years plus? And it has taken me this long to put the pieces together. I spent a couple of days with Doc Mullens recently in Pensacola. We went through his vast collection of memorabilia. And we talked about the men. Doc would bring up a name and ask if I remembered, some were so clear, some nothing. But through all these years I had thought about my friend.

He was actually a new friend, you see shortly before the hill was overrun my gun had "shot out." That means we had improperly aimed our howitzer of which I was the crew chief. I was in charge of that gun and responsible for it. It was my mistake and I was relieved immediately. That was a traumatic experience for me at 20. And there was a stigma attached to it among the men. There was a shunning that took place. I was no longer in a position of authority and responsibility. One of the immediate results was leaving my hooch and taking up residence with Doc Davis who was killed on the night of February 25, 1969. My new job was the guy who sat with the XO all night and relayed fire missions to the guns over the headphones. I would sleep a lot of the day of course and one of the things I remember is I felt very much ostracized.

That's when I started hanging out with this guy who I think was in FDC (Fire Direction Control). I remember he was great. Full of life and fun and expectancy. We concocted a story that we told the new guys that we really weren't in Viet Nam. There was no war. This was all political BS and Interstate 26 was right over those mountains. The poor new guys who were disoriented and trying to sort things out had to sort through our sick and civilization-starved senses of humor. But it was all in that fraternity of brothers type of fun you have in a war. He lived in a big world that he was going to experience to the fullest. I remember him encouraging me. He helped me put my little tragedy into perspective. He made me look at it from the standpoint of learning from it and going on.

The night before the hill was attacked I spent a good bit of time with him before going on duty. We ate dinner together. I remember walking across the LZ at 9 or 10pm, I don't remember exactly but it was the blackest night there has ever been anywhere on the earth. It was an amazing sense of being surrounded and in imminent danger. The next night all hell broke lose. It broke lose for Gulf Battery first and I guess it was India Battery on the other side, I'm not sure but I know we were firing a very complicated split battery double fire mission. One set of guns pointing one way, the other pointing the opposite. There was a lull, and then we were mortared and the beginning of OUR infamous night.

After the initial barrage, right after, the next thing that happened was I heard N. Vietnamese language in my headset. I was frozen in terror... Paralyzed with fear. The chain of events that followed, I am sure, are garbled in my memory. In talking to first one and then another I have sorted some of it out but I think the next thing was Miranda came running in the XO's hooch with a bullet in his stomach. Then a satchel charge landed in the hooch's door and we were blown up against the wall. I think that's when my friend came running in.

He was the first person I saw that night that had gotten past the fear and was actually trying to rally a defense. He was looking for a radio and we didn't have one. He had no weapon that I remember, but he ran in assessed the situation, asked if we were all right, if we had a radio (we didn't) he said he was going over to the radio hooch, it was beside FDC. I seem to remember that someone of us cautioned him about doing that but he didn't pay any attention and he was gone. That was the last time I saw my friend.

I've got to say, and this is the point, what he was doing, what he did caused me to get past my fear. I had literally been scared to death and I think I thought I might as well do something as opposed to nothing. I took my M-16 and went out into the fray and you can read the rest of that story by clicking on my name in the Roster. But it was because of him. It was incredible what he was doing and had already done. He had been running from gun to gun trying to find a radio. At this point we were overrun by NVA. He was totally oblivious to the danger and in fact, as I understand it, he was killed when he left our hooch. I believe he was shot in the throat by a sniper who was under the water buffalo and acting as cover for the sappers.

I thought a lot about this man, over the years. The problem is I didn't remember his name. In all my conversations with the guys I could never figure out who he was until my conversations with Doc Mullens, but Doc knew the details or some of them that I knew and I finally got it together. I could finally pay tribute to a Marine who was truly courageous, truly self sacrificing. He gave his life trying to save ours. And I tell you all these years he has been a hero in my memory. Now I know his name, James D. Peschel.

From James’ Sister, Cyndie:

I am James(Jimmy) D. Peschel's younger sister. Our brother Dale, in between us, called me and told about his son finding the website, and sent it to me. What a blessing after so many years to see a legacy of my brother in your memorial. My husband and I are also Christian's, born again and living to see His wonderful works on this earth.

Thank you for your memories of my brother Jimmy. He and Dale were 10 and 8 years older than me, and the only babysitters I ever had. They were, and Dale still is, my buddies, protectors, and the most wonderful siblings a little girl could have.

Jimmy was buried the day after my 15th birthday, but he is still very much alive in my heart.

Thanks, Cyndi (Peschel) Shanklin

I am truly grateful for the effort you have put forth to write a memorial for Jimmy Peschel, my wife's brother. It has been such a source
of encouragement and enlightenment for us to know what actually happened to Jimmy .What a blessing to finally discover that he actually died in an act of heroism, rather than in the midst of just sitting on a night watch (without a flak jacket), smoking a joint, and being unable to adequately defend himself and others. We are just now finding out the truth.

And, certainly, I must say a heartfelt thank-you to you for serving our country in a war not supported by our own government and many of our civilian population. You paid a tremendous price in going, and I know it could not have been easy returning to the USA to the reception you guys got.

Greg, I don't even know you and I love you. And I would say this even if you were not a fellow believer in Christ. But, how wonderful and glorious that you are a fellow soldier in the ranks of the redeemed!

May God bless you richly for who you are and to whatever extent you have helped friends and family members of Vietnam Veterans to know more about those who served and how they met their Maker. The world is a richer place because of guys like you. You are more than welcome in our home anytime, for as long as you choose to stay, and you are welcome to anything it is in our power to offer you.

In Christ and for HisGlory, Eric