Chapter 6: The Legacy of 20 Nov

Written by Kit Jarrell and Heidi Thiess


Unbelievably, the late-arriving “blues” from the 2/17th Cavalry were extracted before the LRP reaction force, and it was well past dark when the remaining seventeen LRPs guided in their own extraction choppers. It was easy for the pilots to find the general area in the dark since the gunships were still making runs but the final approach needed to be marked. Since their race into the jungle had precluded a thorough mission supply of equipment, they had no strobes or flares with which to guide in Meacham and Grant’s choppers. Tony Tercero and a few others improvised with their Zippo cigarette lighters. "[I]t was amazing how well the flame of that lighter showed up," said Meacham in his book. "The only problem was that if you held a lighter for very long, it got hotter than hell!”

Gary Linderer described what it meant for the battered team to see the faces of their fellow LRPs.

“My heart was full of gratitude for the men of the reaction force who had come to our rescue. The pride I felt about being a LRP grew tenfold. How could anyone not admire those men who volunteered without a moment’s hesitation to walk into a hornet’s nest to save their fellow LRPs. They risked their lives for us. Thank God none of them had to pay the maximum price for their courage. I loved those guys, and knew that I would owe them everything for the rest of my life. It was debt that I would never be able to repay. They honored our creed – LRPs don’t leave LRPs behind!”¹

The F/58th LRP company, so tight for a year, was broken apart by death, damage, and attrition. Their brigade had entered Vietnam in December of ‘67, and by December of ’68 most of the experienced LRPs were dead, wounded, or returning to the States; their in-country tour over. Following 20 November, they didn’t have enough experienced leadership to field more than three or four teams in the bush at one time.

The heavy losses of Team 24 marked the worst loss their company had experienced in Vietnam. In one day, F/58th had become one of the most highly decorated units in 101st Airborne Division history; but none of that mattered to the men grieving for their lost friends. Their miraculous rescue at the hand of their own fellow LRPs filled them with fierce pride for their brotherhood but also a contradictory guilt for having survived an impossible situation when their friends had not. All of them believed that none of them were meant to survive.

Gary Linderer himself would take the self-imposed blame for the death of his best friend, Terry Clifton; a burden he still carries to this day. Riley Cox sometimes thinks he should have done more and told me not to write about him, even though he has gone through 35 major surgeries in the years following his defense on the hill. Billy Walkabout never quite emotionally made it back at all.

Steve Czepurny was new in the unit; the only person's name he knew was the team leader, SGT Al Contreros. Czepurny has chosen not to participate in unit reunions but the other men still remember him as someone who hung in there and kept fighting against incredible odds. SGT John Sours, the member of Team 24 that was evacuated early after breaking his ankles on insertion, carried a load of guilt that most of us cannot even fathom for not being there when the team was hit. Jim Bacon lives a quiet life in the Midwest. Frank Souza recovered from his injuries as well, and works as a massage therapist on the West Coast. Jim Venable, the first man hit by enemy fire, died in a plane crash a few years ago.

Albert Contreros, Michael Reiff, Art Heringhausen, and Terry Clifton were honored in a memorial service by the men of F/58th at Camp Eagle in December of 1968.

Eight men from Team 24 outlasted the enemy in the jungles of Vietnam. Gone were the bullets, the land mines, the grenades and the unbearable heat. From the day each member of Team 24 left Vietnam until today, they persist with guilt for not being able to save a fallen comrade, the same battle they fought over 30 years ago playing like a movie in their minds and images of all the perils of war ever-present in their thoughts. The guilt that soldiers feel cannot be explained by those who have not seen the same conflict nor can it be described adequately. It is unreasonable for heroes to feel guilt or self-doubt, but that has not stopped the soldiers of Team 24 from these feelings even while sitting in their homes watching television or eating dinner with their family.


We all should recognize it as a sacrifice that the few makes for the majority. It is a sacrifice we should all be ever thankful for the few who make it and we should cherish our heroes as just that; they are heroes and deserve recognition.

Through our many conversations with the heroes of 20 November 1968, none of them ever said they were a hero and in fact changed subjects when their medals or awards were mentioned. They are selfless and extraordinary in their own right. How does a living hero who went through what they did not think they at least in some way acted heroic? How does a man who fought while his intestines were spilling out of his body tremble over the phone describing how he feels he let his other team members perish?

Sadly though for the men of Team 24, the perils of war are not just being replayed in their minds. Perhaps the uglier side of the war for Team 24 surfaced in 1996 when accusations were thrown like hand grenades used to be. Gone is the recognizable enemy of an NVA soldier and gone is the threat of one's life. They are now fighting for their dignity and peace of mind.

Next: The Accusations

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¹ Linderer, Gary. The Eyes of the Eagle pg. 192
² Linderer, Gary. The Eyes of the Eagle pg. 203