Anderson Stationed At Long Bien

Lane Anderson has a stunning collection of nearly every document ever issued to him or produced by him during his service in the U.S. Army.

The military history includes laminated meal passes, dog tags, copies of payroll records and transfer orders on onionskin paper.

Interspersed among the newspaper clippings, identification cards and Army-issued pamphlets about Vietnamese customs are colorful self-portraits of the short-timer. A helmet with a hairy arm sticking out is shown sitting on a pair of boots. Knuckles drag the ground. "Tattooed" on the arm are calendar dates meticulously filled with colored pencil.

When he arrived in Vietnam for duty, it was his second look at the country.

After graduating with the first consolidated class at Warsaw Community High School in 1963, Anderson accompanied his father, Ken, owner of Ken Anderson Films, on a working trip that took them three-quarters of the way around the world.

As their plane landed in Tan Son Nuht Airport in Saigon, the then-teenager noticed U.S. military helicopters at the end of the runway.

"Those were the early days of our involvement," he said. "I never thought I'd be there during the largest buildup."

A few years later, and seeing the draft coming, Anderson enlisted with the Army for two years. He was promised Officers Training School. After basic training, stationed at Fort Ord, Calif., he waited for three months for orders. Nothing happened.

His propensity to hold on to paperwork paid off. When he enlisted he was given an Enlistment Promise Card. He described his plight, sending it to the address on the back of the little 2- by 3- inch card.

"When I signed up I was guaranteed a commission. If I didn't go to OTC, I'd have ended up in the infantry. I wasn't as upset as confused and didn't know what to do.

"The next thing I knew I was hauled into the colonel's office. I'd never seen so much brass. I was scared. They were literally teaming up against me. They asked me who I knew in Washington, D.C. I didn't know anyone. Then I remembered the promise card. That explained everything."

The next "promise" was to send Anderson to clerk typist school. He said he could already type. So he was sent to an administrative school instead, and promoted from a private (E-2) to Specialist, Fifth Class (E-5).

At the end of 1968 he received orders for Vietnam.

"I'd been married for a year. It was so hard to say good bye. Those were difficult emotions. I had no idea where I'd be or if I'd come back," he said.

Anderson's wife, Jill, returned to Warsaw and moved in with his parents. Anderson departed for Vietnam in December 1968.

In January 1968, communist forces launched a huge offense against South Vietnam. The surprise attack began during the Vietnamese New Year, a seven-day observation known as Tet.

Viet Cong units attacked early Jan. 30, 1968, shocking the residents of Da Nang, Qui Nhon and other cities during this traditional time of truce. Saigon was attacked as well. Thousands died and more than 100,000 lost their homes in Hue. It took the American and South Vietnamese forces a week to regain the lost ground.

"In January (1969) the second biggest Tet offensive was launched," Anderson said. "Our base was attacked, but we were in bunkers. The Viet Cong killed only one man and he was hit in his bed by a mortar.

"The Viet Cong thought they were going to overrun a bunch of clerks and typists, supply officers and mechanics. They thought they were going to gorge themselves on C-rations," Anderson said. "They didn't realize we were trained as soldiers first and to do our job second. They met a superior force."

Anderson was assigned to the Army's first prison company 284th MPCO with the U.S. Army Correctional Holding Detachment at Long Bien. Long Bien, in Bien Hoa Province, was the largest military-designated area northeast of Saigon.

"A branch of the adjunct general's office, no other administrative company had ever existed like it," Anderson said.

Included on the base was a U.S. Army Installation Stockade, known as Long Bien Jail or LBJ. The prison also had other, less complimentary nicknames.

In August 1968, a few months before Anderson's arrival, one-third of the prioson was burned down during a riot. The way Anderson remembers it, 1,200 prisoners had been kept in a facility meant for 600 people.

The Army rebuilt the facility. During 1969, the U.S. military prison population was 10,450; most were incarcerated at LBJ.

Prior to the formation of the 284th, a jailed soldier's personnel record was kept with his company. Now the records were sent to Long Bien.

"The soldiers were in jail for breaking various military or civil laws. It was the only facility for Americans," Anderson said.

Anderson's job was to assist as many men with a general discharge as possible.

"That meant they had no hope of a future job with the U.S. government. It was either a general discharge or staying in jail. Generally, the men who were 'eliminated' were in violation for a series of Article 15 infractions or civil violations. They might be there for drug use, fighting, currency fraud. They may have affronted the Vietnamese community or be there for chronic reckless behavior and insubordination. They just refused to adjust."

They also may have been at LBJ for murder or any number of other felonies.

"They were some of the scariest people I've ever met. Some are still in Fort Knox. A couple threatened to kill me if they ever got out. For a 24-year-old, it was an interesting military experience," he said.

"We eliminated (from the Army) 120 people a month, 350 people over four months. That was a huge dent in the population and calmed down the prison atmosphere.

"I learned that if you work hard, the Army will treat you with honor."

Anderson received an Army Commendation Medal for his efforts.

Hearing gunfire was a regular occurrence. Long Bien was situated on a plateau. Anderson could look down and watch the war in the distance.

"Oh, the frightening power of our military. They had guns shooting 3,000 rounds a minute. Jets dropping napalm. We had the ability to destroy mankind. Coming back home was a welcome relief.

"It's the way it was handled. The war should have been fought by the military, not the president. It should've been done the right way. The South Vietnamese were being oppressed by communism. Millions lost their lives like they did in Cambodia and Laos. Evil exists in the world.

"The neat thing about the American military is we never took over a country. We always gave it back and gave it back rebuilt. That's our goodness.

"My welcome home was only different because my family was here. There wasn't anything negative. There wasn't anything positive. No thanks, just ignored. That was very difficult. I didn't stew, but I wasn't appreciated for my willingness to die for my country. There should have been an appreciation."

Anderson, now 59, was born in Genova, Ill. He came to Warsaw from Muskegon, Mich., during his sophomore year in high school. "The whole school knew each other and knew three new guys were joining the class. Mike Valentine, the class president, made sure I got to the ball games. I didn't know how big basketball was. I'll always be grateful to him for that."

The Andersons, who have one son, have started to travel again, calling on clients around the world.

During one Washington, D.C., trip he visited the Vietnam Memorial. "I was not prepared for my emotions, my respect for the frailty of the life that God gives us. How much would I have lost?"