Capt. Bill Albracht was an outstanding soldier. Graduating from high school in 1966, he was a recruiter’s dream: He wanted to join the airborne infantry. After basic training, he passed the Officer Candidate School exam. At the time, he thought all officers came from West Point. “OCS could’ve been Oklahoma Cooking School, for all I knew,” he said.
After OCS, Albracht thrived in Special Forces school, and then, he volunteered for service in Vietnam. He was absolutely determined to answer his country’s call to fight communism.
He arrived in Vietnam as a 21-year-old captain, very young for the rank and responsibility, but he’d received the best training. Eventually, he was assigned to command Firebase Kate, a Special Forces outpost with three artillery pieces. He arrived at 3:30 p.m. By 11:30, the North Vietnamese attacked. For the next five days, Albracht led 27 American soldiers and 150 Vietnamese militiamen against 6,000 North Vietnamese men. Only when all his artillery was destroyed and the outpost ceased to be a firebase did he withdraw.
“We went out as a unit,” he said. “By the hand of God, and I mean: By. The. Hand. Of. God. We got through. We should never have made it, but we did.”
It’s a bigger story than I can tell here, but you can read more about it in Albracht and Marvin Wolf’s book, Abandoned in Hell: The Fight for Vietnam’s Firebase Kate, and on his website, www.captain-hawk.com.
For his brave wartime service, Albracht received a host of medals, including three Silver Stars, five Bronze Stars (three with Valor devices), three Purple Hearts, two Air Medals (one with Valor), and one Army Commendation Medal (with Valor).
His achievements are beyond anything I could’ve imagined in my own service. He enlisted to fight communism. I enlisted for college money. Yet while I have heard “thank you for your service” for decades, nobody thanked Albracht.
After his tour, Albracht was flown back to Fort Lewis, Washington. Many soldiers were advised not to wear their uniforms due to civilian hostility. Albracht was fortunate. Wearing his dress green uniform with all his medals and carrying a captured enemy rifle, he received many dark glances but was not cursed at or spat upon like many others returning from Vietnam.
Coming home from Afghanistan, my unit landed in Bangor, Maine. We were greeted and thanked by a wonderful group of American Legionnaires and community volunteers, who even offered us the use of their cellphones to call home. It wasn’t until 1996, when Albracht talked to Lt. Col. James “Bo” Gritz at a Vietnam Special Forces reunion, that he heard, for the first time, “Welcome home.”
Sometimes, people are a bit overzealous with their gratitude, endlessly thanking me for their freedom as if I alone made them free. These days, Albracht encounters a lot of guilt from men his age, sob stories about why they didn’t go to Vietnam. “I’m not gonna be a priest and forgive them for their sins,” he said. “They must live with it.”
When thanked for his service, Albracht now replies, “It was my honor to serve.” I heard his sincerity. I heard, and shared, his anger over the way he and his fellow Vietnam veterans were mistreated. Those people must deal with their guilt.
And to every Vietnam War veteran, this old soldier says, “Welcome home. Thank you for your service. God bless you.”
Trent Reedy served as a combat engineer in the Iowa National Guard from 1999 to 2005, including a tour of duty in Afghanistan.
*Some names and call signs in this story may have been changed due to operational security or privacy concerns.
