'PJ' community remembers fallen hero, friend
by Tech. Sgt. Ginger Schreitmueller
Air Force Special Operations Command Public Affairs
12/19/00 - HURLBURT FIELD, Fla. (AFPN) -- For
six weeks, Airman 1st Class Ryan Hall spent hours
polishing a small bronze plaque outside the Pararescue
Indoctrination Course at Lackland Air Force Base, Texas.
The 21-year-old, now assigned to the 23rd Special
Tactics Squadron here, first saw the plaque as mere
words etched in metal. But, with each touch of the cloth
he survived some of the toughest training the Air Force
has to offer. Hall began to understand.
It is not solely a memorial in metal -- it is a
reflection of one man's unfaltering belief in the simple
pararescue creed: "That Other's May Live." The
plaque reminds those enduring the course about one of
their own -- Airman 1st Class William "Pits"
Pitsenbarger Jr.
On April 11, 1966, Detachment 6, 38th Aerospace
Rescue and Recovery Squadron, out of Bien Hoa, Vietnam,
was called in to support a medevac mission.
Pitsenbarger, a native of Ohio, was on the second of two
HH-43 Huskie helicopters sent in to retrieve the wounded
and dead from elements of the Army's 1st Infantry
Division, which was surrounded by enemy forces a few
miles east of Saigon.
This wasn't a new mission for Pitsenbarger, who was
just 21 years old. He had been "in country"
since the previous August, and had already seen nearly
300 rescue missions.
Pitsenbarger's crew located the American forces and
went in. On scene, Pitsenbarger volunteered to go down
the line and administer emergency treatment to the most
seriously wounded, and to assist with the extraction of
wounded soldiers.
"To put down on paper what that battle was like
is an impossible task," said then-1st Lt. Martin
Kroah. "At times the small arms fire would be so
intense that it was deafening, and all a person could do
was get as close to the ground as possible and
pray."
As soon as he touched the ground, Pitsenbarger jumped
off and began treating the wounded. In the next few
hours, the rescue crews made five flights in and out of
the area. On the sixth flight, the chopper was hit by
enemy fire. The cable holding the stokes litter was cut
as the pilot fought to keep the aircraft from crashing
into the trees.
Because of heavy enemy fire, and no backup fire
support, the choppers were pulled out of the area.
Pitsenbarger elected to stay at the battlesite to aid
the wounded until reinforcements and artillery could
clear the way for additional rescues.
Army Sergeant Fred Navarro, a squad leader with the
trapped Charlie Company, remembered watching the Air
Force PJ operating under heavy sniper fire.
"(Pitsenbarger) gave his pistol to one of the
wounded men who couldn't hold a rifle," Navarro
said. "He then took the wounded soldier's rifle and
moved from place to place, while under fire. He was
collecting ammo from the dead and giving it to the
wounded. He went back out, running all around the
perimeter collecting ammo. He redistributed ammo to each
soldier that was still alive."
After the choppers had returned to Bien Hoa, the word
came down that the Army company and Pitsenbarger were
moving to another spot, and were OK. Further rescue and
extraction was not needed that night. The rescuers
waited anxiously for the next day to come so they could
go back and retrieve the wounded and bring their fellow
PJ back to base. The next morning they found out the
company had not moved and the battle was still going on.
Then Airman 1st Class Harry O'Beirne was on the first
alert chopper out and, when they arrived on scene, was
lowered to the ground to continue evacuation efforts. On
the ground, O'Beirne remembers an Army lieutenant who
was seriously wounded and saying he needed to be sure
someone knew about the heroic actions of the airman, and
what he had done for Charlie Company. The story he told
would end with the solemn statement, "I'm sorry.
Your friend didn't make it."
Somewhere around 7:30 p.m. the night before,
Pitsenbarger had been killed. O'Beirne found his
friend's body and brought him out of the jungle that
day.
"I was very angry. I don't know why, just very
angry," O'Beirne said. "You do everything as
you're trained to do; it's part of the job. I was
stepping over some 81 dead GIs, and about 100 wounded.
Later, as you have time to sit around, it hits
you."
Of the 180 men that were involved in the firefight,
few would escape uninjured.
At a ceremony in the Pentagon, Sept. 22, 1966, Mr.
and Mrs. Pitsenbarger were presented their son's Air
Force Cross, as well as the Airman's Medal, four Air
Medals and the Purple Heart for other missions the young
PJ had flown in Vietnam.
Though the Air Force Cross is the highest medal the
Air Force can bestow, those who knew him and those who
saw what happened that night didn't give up the fight to
have the pararescue jumper's memory and actions honored
with the Air Force Medal of Honor.
Now, after nearly 35 years, William Pitsenbarger Sr.
received his son's Air Force Medal of Honor during a
ceremony at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, Ohio, Dec.
8.
Master Sgt. Scotty Gearen, operations superintendent
at the 23rd STS, was among more than 300 "PJs"
who attended the ceremony.
"'Pits' lived by the motto," he said,
"and has always been our guidepost for courage and
devotion to duty. I hope that if I ever find myself in
similar circumstances I would have the courage that he
displayed."
For those who knew Pitsenbarger, there was never a
doubt that his actions that night merited the nation's
highest honor.
"He died doing his job," said Dave Milsten,
who was the noncommissioned officer in charge of the PJ
section at Bien Hoa. "If he would have known the
consequences of going down that hoist it wouldn't have
slowed him up a bit."
It's that sense of duty and honor, and the chance to
help others that Hall said attracted him to the
pararescue career field.
Though not a PJ long enough to even get his beret
dirty, Hall said he has come to realize the legacy of
"Airman 1st Class William 'Pits' Pitsenbarger"
is what earns a man the right to wear the distinctive
maroon beret of Pararescue.
"You can't ask more from an individual than what
Airman Pitsenbarger gave," Hall said. "It
changes your perspective about pararescue. It's not a
job; it's a way of life. It's not something you can
explain; it's personal."
Outside the PJ schoolhouse at Kirtland Air Force
Base, N.M., there is another plaque that echoes the
perspective of Hall and other PJs: "For those
who've never been there, no explanation is possible. For
those who have, no explanation is needed."
(Courtesy of Air Force Special Operations Command News
Service)
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