September 2005
A VIETNAM-WALL CONNECTION
Bob Smith is my neighbor. He stopped by a few weeks ago to share a story that was told at his 40th high school class reunion in Norfolk, Nebraska. This saga was told by the father of Claude Van Andel, who was killed in action in Vietnam on May 27, 1969. Claude was the brother of Nancy Van Andel. Nancy is a classmate of Bob Smith; she asked her dad to tell Claude’s story at the reunion.
Claude hada special friend in high school. Her name is Janet. It was a platonic relationship in which they shared things openly and honestly. After graduation Janet enrolled in the University of Nebraska. Claude attended a junior college for a year then joined the Army in May 1968. He must have demonstrated leadership skills because he was assigned to and graduated from the "shake and bake" program. While on leave prior to shipping out to Vietnam, Claude visited Janet at the university. Their time together was filled with laughter and fun. As he was leaving, Claude said: "Well, this might be my last good-bye, I may never come back." Janet quickly responded with something like: "No way, you’ll have to come back to tell me ‘Good-bye’."
On May 26, 1969 Janet was studying for an exam in her dormitory room; she felt Claude’s presence. He said: "I came back to say ‘Good-bye’. " Janet knew it was neither rational nor logical. With her heart pounding, she called Claude’s father to tell him of the mysterious experience. As far as Claude’s family was concerned, he was alive and well. Janet talked for a long time; she could not sleep after the first
phone call so she called again at 3:00 am. (As you know, the lag time between death and notification of a KIA can take a while.) Two days later Claude’s family received the notification of his death.
In May 1985 the National Geographic magazine had a cover story on the Vietnam Memorial. The story referred to the book, To Heal A Nation, authored by Jan Scruggs. (Scruggs is an attorney in Washington, D.C. He is the Vietnam veteran who is instrumental in making the Vietnam Wall our memorial.) In his book, Scruggs writes about the mental anguish he suffered after the war. He discovered that he could not contact many of his former buddies or their families because all he knew was their first name or nickname. It was a common practice in many combat-arms units in order to avoid getting too close to guys in the outfit; it was a defense mechanism; it lessened the pain when a buddy was killed. Janet searched for Scruggs’ book for over a year. She found a source and placed an order. She read the book in one sitting. Scruggs wrote the he was about to give up on the Memorial as the obstacles began to mount. But it was the memory of "Claude," a young GI from the Midwest that kept him from giving up. Janet called Claude’s father and then embarked on an intense research; she was convinced that it was Claude Van Andel. Janet sent Scruggs a letter through the publisher. Jan Scruggs scrutinized Janet’s research and confirmed her findings. It was Claude Van Andel’s death and the torment that Scruggs could not remember Claude’s last name that prompted him to build a memorial where all the names of those who gave their lives for our nation could be seen and not forgotten.
Claude Van Andel and Jan Scruggs were assigned to the 199th Light Infantry Brigade. Claude was the squad leader of the lead squad of the lead platoon on a search and destroy mission conducted by his company. Scruggs was a RTO for the FO of the mortar platoon. The FO and Scruggs were attached to Claude’s squad for this mission. Scruggs monitored Claude’s radio call to the CO that he spotted a wire which he sensed to be part of a command-detonated explosive. About a minute later, there was a loud explosion followed by a furious fire fight. When shooting stopped, Scruggs called for medevac. Claude must have been very close to a huge explosive. Scruggs was in the group who gathered up what was left of Claude and placed his mangled body and parts in a body bag. Claude was the first American whom
Scruggs had seen die. The sheer horror of it never left him. Scruggs himself was wounded and evacuated the next day.
About three weeks after his dialogue with Janet, Jan Scruggs was at a seminar in Scarsdale, New York To help Vietnam veterans cope with their problems. The unfolding of the Claude and Janet story had such a profound impact on Scruggs that he shared the story with the group. During the break after his talk, a priest came to the speaker’s podium and asked: "Do you remember me? We’ve met before." Scruggs said: "No, I don’t remember." The priest said : "I’m Charlie Fink, the point man in Claude’s squad who could not go on. I helped place Claude in the body bag. Fink was the newest replacement on the squad and assigned as point man. He was hacking his way through the underbrush until they came upon a small clearing where Claude spotted the wire. Claude radioed the CO who ordered them forward. Fink was now not only exhausted, but paralyzed with fear. Claude could have ordered anyone in his squad to take point, but he did not. He told Fink to cover him while he went forward as point. After a few short steps, a large explosive detonated almost in Claude’s face. Fink was dazed and shaken. Claude’s sacrifice was a life-changing experience for Charlie Fink. Before this trauma, he was an aimless young kid from Brooklyn, New York.
At the Memorial Day Service in 1987 at the Vietnam Wall, Jan Scruggs invited Father Fink to give the invocation and the sermon. Janet and Claude’s father were guests at the service. On national TV, Jan Scruggs proclaimed: "This wall is dedicated to Sergeant Claude Van Andel and all the other young men who gave their lives in that conflict."
Father Fink later wrote a letter to the family and friends of Claude Van Andel. I close with an excerpt of his letter as a tribute to the many "Claudes" we served with in Vietnam.
I only knew Claude two months – that is how long I’d been in Vietnam when he died – but in that time, I never saw him do a brutal thing. I never met anyone who did not like him. I never heard him doing anything he’d have reason to be ashamed of. He was my squad leader. He could have left me exhausted on point on May 27, 1969 or assigned someone else. He wasn’t the type. What happened is not fair; it is lousy. And I wish I could bring Claude back and take away all the pain his family and others who loved him have experienced. But of course, I can’t.
My consolation is that I am a Catholic priest and really do believe in what I preach, even if I’m not as good at living it. And part of what I believe is that though God’s ways are mysterious, they are not malignant. I believe, therefore, that Claude is with God, in a better place than we inhabit. Someday we will be with him again if we are as selfless as he was.
I knew many men like Claude – good young men, not perfect, by no means choirboys, but good and decent. They came to Vietnam that way. Most came home that way. Some died that way.
It really bothers me to think that thanks to movies like Platoon, it will be widely believed that we were all quickly reduced to animals. Claude was not. I wish you could have been with him on the day he died – blond and boyish, his sense of humor intact, grubby like us all, but good and charming and wholesome. The war killed him, but it never destroyed him. I hope you will be at peace about his soldiering and his passing.
God Bless and Keep You Always,
Charlie Fink