Re: Lost Dog Tags Found

Date: April 27, 2004

"Dog tag home 37 years after Hill 875 fight

By Jim Pettit Staff columnist

Dog tags were the last thing on Ray Matsumura's mind in November of 1967.

Staying alive was uppermost. The grenade that flipped into his bunker had something to do with his sense of urgency.

Matsumura was in Vietnam, assigned to the 173rd Engineering Company of the 173rd Airborne Brigade.

Engineering units get dubious special attention on a battlefield. In addition to fighting, they get to perform ever-changing tasks such as clearing dense foliage or constructing defenses while being shot at or shelled.

In 1967, the 173rd was part of a hellish campaign at a crossroads of the Central Highlands near the hamlet of Dak To.

The final American mission was to capture a hill that didn't have a name, only a number.

Hill 875.

The enemy had a mission, too: kill every grunt who tried to reach the top. To that end, it committed three regiments of North Vietnamese army regulars. These were professional troops, well-trained, tough and just as committed as the insidious, hit-and-run Viet Cong.

It was one of the bloodiest battles of the Vietnam War. Hill 875 deserves a name, but all the four-letter words are taken. The jungle humidity was intense. Heavy rain was almost a daily occurrence. Clothing rotted in a matter of days. An enemy machine gun could be three feet away but undetectable.

A vicious struggle

According to accounts, the 173rd Airborne listed 272 men killed, 900 wounded and 60 missing in action during the four-day assault.

North Vietnamese casualties were estimated at 3,000, more than 1,400 of whom were killed.

There's a lot about Hill 875 that Matsumura would like to forget. The stench of human flesh incinerated by flame-throwers. The screams of men wounded and dying under 100-foot-high, thickly canopied jungles that even deflected bombing runs. The zing of bullets ripping everything in their path while fingernails clawed for an extra half-inch of cover.

Attacks. Counterattacks. But American troops inched their way up a hill teeming with hidden bunkers and connecting tunnels. A day's progress was often measured in yards in a battle of weaponry and will.

Another thing Matsumura will always remember is American courage. During the battle, the airborne engineers were recommended for one Distinguished Service Cross and earned one Silver Star, 12 Bronze Stars with V (valor) device, two Air Medals, and three Army Commendation Medals with V device. Thirteen engineers were awarded the Cross of Gallantry by the South Vietnam government.

Matsumura is 68 years old. He spent 22 years in the Army before retiring in 1976. Fayetteville, his home since 1968, is a long way from Dak To. Dodging grenades is not in his job description at Stock Building Supply on Reilly Road.

Ground yields secret


Matsumura

But a reminder came to his home in Montclair last month. It was a card, postmarked from Hanoi, from a man named Bob McMahon. ''I have something that belongs to you,'' the card began.

An American team searching for remains of missing U.S. soldiers had unearthed a dog tag Matsumura was wearing 37 years ago. A dog tag is an identification tag, which is worn around the neck. It is stamped with basic information in case a soldier is wounded or killed.

At first, the recovery team figured his body might be nearby, but further research revealed that Matsumura was alive and well, no thanks to the NVA.

''We were getting hit hard,'' Matsumura said. ''I was operations sergeant and someone threw a grenade inside our bunker. I jumped, but I really don't know what happened after that. I guess I must have lost my dog tag then. Next thing I knew, I woke up in a hospital. I thought I was dead.''

McMahon sent the tag to Matsumura.

''It still has the charcoal burn and mud from Vietnam on it,'' he said. ''At first, I was going to polish it, but I decided to leave it just the way it is.''

Matsumura was lucky on Hill 875 and in many other firefights during the war.

He was lucky to escape serious injury from the grenade and, odd as it sounds, not to be shot by fellow soldiers.

''I am a native of Hawaii,'' he said, ''but my ancestry is Japanese. When I went to Vietnam, I looked a lot like the enemy. There were a lot of young guys over there who would panic too easily. Twice on patrol, I was shot at by my own men.''

Matsumura lessened that danger by learning a couple of earthy, not-for-family- newspaper expressions that any American would understand. The phonetics, however, are not in Vietnamese speech.

''They are words that the Vietnamese can't pronounce,'' Matsumura said. ''If I hadn't learned them, I wouldn't be here today.

Thankfully, he is.

Hill 875 still exists, too. The mountainous jungle has reclaimed it and covered its war scars.

But, someday, it may surrender all its dog tags.

Jim Pettit's column appears Tuesday, Friday and Saturday. He can be reached at pettitj[at]fayettevillenc[dot]com or 486-3583."