During the decade of the 1960s many of America's young men and women turned to public service in an expression of social consciousness. We are all familiar with President John F. Kennedy's call for the "best and brightest to fill the ranks of the Peace Corps." We are also aware of the men and women who served in the Armed Forces during that time. But little is known of the bright young women who joined the American Red Cross and went to Vietnam to support the troops. These women, affectionately known as Donut Dollies, were single, college-educated and committed to the welfare of the men at war. Jan Sigurdson was one of these women.

After five months in Phan Rang with the 101st Airborne, Jan Sigurdson was reassigned to the base camp at Qui Nhon. It seemed like so long ago when Jan arrived in country. From day one, she faithfully recorded her experiences in a diary, reflecting the pulse of the war and the emotion of the times. This is her story, in her words.

April 13, 1968:          Men from the 173rd Airborne have been sent down here since Qui Nhon is supposed to be overrun this week according to intelligence reports. We visited with them on Red Beach and the other girls thought them dirty, weird and uncivilized. To me they were just normal boonie rats, but everyone else seemed to be just a little frightened of them.

I wish they could have seen the 101st fellows. I miss them and it just killed me to take off my screaming eagle patch.

November 7, 1967:   After a night lasting 24 hours our plane landed in Saigon. From the air Vietnam is just beautiful with all of its lush greenness, but once inside, many depressing things hit you all at once. The city itself is dirty, but all the people are so tiny that you feel as if you should care for them as you would a child. There are beggars on every corner and it hurts to have to say no piastras to them. The exotic scent of the orient is a myth. It's the smell of decay and unwashed people. I still can't fathom that I'm here...not even the intensive military control of the city has had any effect on my impressions. Perhaps tomorrow I'll wake up and believe that I'm really, really in the orient.

November 9, 1967:     On the way to the base we passed through a typical housing development. The homes were built on sticks over what at one time must have been a lake. Today it is just a slimy mud hole and a breeding spot for mosquitoes. For a lawn, the people have a garbage dump. What is so depressing is that the small children (3 to 6 years old) play in the garbage as if it were a sandbox. Steve was right about the Vietnamese children. They are beautiful and it's not right that they should live this way. Saigon has another face...a mask of military control. Until this evening when I saw light flashes from the outskirts of Saigon, which were being mortared, I felt that this military buildup was a movie set. It was almost as if I was expecting John Wayne to walk up, front stage and center.


November 10, 1967:   We received our travel orders finally. I'm going to the 1st Brigade of the 101 Airborne at Phan Rang. Liz Ann Malleson, who is a terrific girl, is going with me and I'm excited about that. The unit at Phan Rang mostly deals with a center program. Liz Ann and I make up the 3rd and 4th members of the team, which is already staffed by two women, 25 and 27. God, am I excited.


November 14, 1967:   We finally made it to Phan Rang. Luckily we were met by Beto, our driver, since neither of the Red Cross girls came. Our new home is actually rather nice. It has a little sitting room with a bar and each of us has our own room. I swear that the rooms hadn't been cleaned in years. Liz Ann and I slept on the covers rather than crawl under the sheets.

November 15, 1967:   Today was my first day of work. The center is a nice building and has great facilities: ping pong, pool, games, cards and darts. You name it, they've got it. The fellows are really very nice and they're very considerate about every possible thing. They even come in every morning to help clean up the center. Three Australian female singers from Queensland are staying with us because they are here to entertain the troops. Warrant Officer Martin, who helped us on the plane, was promoted and we went to his party. I got my master blaster wings and a Warrant Officer 4 ribbon.

November 22, 1967:   Charlotte came home crying because a man propositioned her. He was crude about it and wouldn't let her alone. There seems to be a rumor going around that it only costs $50 to get a Red Cross girl. It seems to be a common thought among the men. It really irritates me that perhaps only one in a 110 has lowered her morals and since we are all judged first by the organization and second as individuals, we are all believed to be hustlers. I knew that I'd grow up over here, but I was hoping that my idealism wouldn't be shattered so quickly.

November 23, 1967:   Today was Thanksgiving and it was celebrated with a nice dinner for all the men on the base. Some of the forward brigades have started to move in. It's surprising to find that the majority would prefer to still be in the field. Most of the fellows seem to feel that the war is a necessary evil, but there are some that have learned to enjoy killing and stay to play God. Atrocities work both ways, but it bothers me to find that Americans are mutilating VC bodies so they will wander the earth restlessly forever if they are followers of Buddha.


November 24, 1967:   The war seems to have either one or two effects on the men as far as religion goes. Either the men put more faith into god and put their well being into his hands or they just become agnostics and say to hell with everything. It's very common to see rosary beads and the cross on both catholic and Protestant fellows. They are worn round the neck, wrists and even hung on helmets. It is the soldier, who denies everything so he won't be disappointed, who is the saddest. It's common to find a negative attitude and there seems to be no way to soften the emotion.

November 28, 1967:   We served at the different units and all the fellows had at least one good meal. The men left to go out to Chu Lai again today. They started to pull out about 7:00; a.m.. At the center, so many of them seemed to be like playful boys, but today brought my perspective into focus. These are not boys, but men who have proven themselves. They carry at least 100 pounds of supplies with them every time they go out. Even though these men realize that they might not be coming back, they keep up their humor. Their helmets reflect this attitude with drawings...everything from Snoopy and an Indian to a hand giving the finger. They have all sorts of crudities also from "fu__ you" to "the balls of the eagle". What I find so amazing is that the men can joke so openly about death. Probably it's a defense against fear within themselves, but you've got to admire them for their courage.

November 30, 1967:   I learned a lesson today and it is that scout dogs are not pets. I forgot to approach the handler with caution and the German Shepherd named Artis took a chunk out of my arm. It hurt, but mainly I was just surprised and frightened. At least I was lucky that it was a scout dog that bit me because they are all up to date on their rabies shots. To even out the day, the MARS station connected me with Mom and Dad. It was 4:30; their time and even though the connection was fuzzy, it was great.

December 4, 1967:     For the first time, everything today was on time. Liz Ann flew to Cameron Bay to have her eyes examined. Today was my first real taste of a dirty old man. It wasn't exactly a proposition, but it was crude and if he had any respect for me, he would not have spoken in such a manner. I know that I didn't do anything to warrant his actions.

December 6, 1967:     Brad is back from the front because of a foot infection and we went to dinner at the Air Force. Last night two guards were killed at the perimeter. Then today the Marines were pulled in and Phan Rang is inviting an attack so they can find the VC and wipe them out. Jean Dixon, the mystic, has predicted that Phan Rang will be hit on either the 7th or 14th of this month. At any rate more sturdy bunkers are being built by the minute. If we are mortared I hope I don't sleep through it. Our visit to the scout dogs was nerve racking for me. I was on edge the whole time. The dogs can't bark, but they lunge against the fenced enclosure snarling and barking with no noise.

December 7, 1967:     One month in country today. Today was a dull day for me and a trying one for Charlotte. Some middle-aged sergeant phoned the center so he could talk to some American girl about the fact that his brother was having an affair with his wife. Then he asked Charlotte, sight unseen, if she would love him. Of course she said "no" and as the day progressed, he said he would kill himself. Eventually the military intelligence (his unit) got wind of this and they have taken him to the psychiatric ward. It's awful how a loss of faith in someone can affect a mind that's already troubled and confused by battle.

December 8, 1967:     Today all of us joined up with Pat and Kay from the Air Force to give a fashion show of the latest stateside clothes. The reception that we received was remarkable. About 300 men (3x the usual amount) came to the center and they all carried on about the clothes. It was a bit embarrassing for us to parade up and down, but it was worth it since the fellows seemed to enjoy it. They were all complementary and the favorite question was "Why don't you wear your civvies all the time?"

December 11, 1967:   Sometimes the men try to spruce up and wear their freshest fatigues. The fellows are so helpful. They're even willing to lug the large coffeepot around, sort books, pick up cups, etc. I'm bound to be terribly spoiled by the time I get home. It wasn't hard to adjust to all the male attention, but it will probably be hard to accept the lack of it at home.

December 16, 1967:   More news about moving. We'll be here for quite awhile, but because most of the men are forward, we'll fly up by helicopter. That would be great since we could see the fellows and still live in Phan Rang. Liz Ann and I put our heads together and thought of all the places we'd like to visit when we leave Vietnam and are on our way home.

December 24, 1967:   We flew up to Bao Lac today. The first helicopter ride was fun, but it seemed strange to see two gunners on each side of me. We landed and went directly to visit the men on the distant hill that could be reached only by chopper. The men are living in bunkers and they've dug themselves in and are ready to fight. Later we donned our Santa Claus miniskirt outfits and the reactions were spontaneous and really made us feel good. We're staying at the MACV compound in town and are expecting a VC attack.

December 25, 1967:   Christmas day and all of us went out into the field. I went with the two chaplains and we went everywhere on the helicopter named Jinx. It had a pink panther painted on the front. The boonies were absolutely beautiful and except for the men themselves, it was hard to imagine that a war was going on. The men always had a tree even if it was a bamboo tree with shaving cream for snow and beer can lids and life savers for ornaments. Services were held jointly for caroling and then were divided into catholic and Protestant for religious services. At one spot we held services in a VC village which had been taken control of only a week before. All the men came to church with machine guns and the services were held with 20 men on guard the entire time. I picked up a knife, a basket rucksack and a flute.

December 30, 1967:   New Years is close at hand and we've been working on decorations frantically. We've made party hats, confetti, streamers and even noisemakers from evaporated milk cans. The 19-year-old fellow with his 36-year-old wife is still trying to hustle Charlotte. Poor Charlotte. She's so nice to these fellows with problems that she ends up having a problem with them bothering her. Perhaps it is good that one of us shows so much concern, but it would be hard to remain sane for 12 months if you did it all the time.

January 7, 1968:         Another day at the beach. The ride to the beach is something in itself. There is always something new and unique. As soon as you leave the Air Base, which is actually a "Little America", a whole new world opens up to you. In a space of less than 15 miles the landscape varies from flat, lush green rice paddies to scrub brush land, which rises to form small dense foothills. The people that you pass are most interesting of all. The old people here have such character in their faces. They are lined and wrinkled from the intense sun and never ending winds, which are common to this area. The clothes are always loose fitting and never seem to be quite clean. Usually these people are never going just for a stroll, they always seem to be transporting something to a distinct destination. The amount of weight that they can carry is fantastic.
         There are always people working in the rice paddies, but generally speaking, the women seem to do most of the fieldwork. The living system here is similar to a German village. The people live in a small community and go out to their fields every morning. On each tract of land you can see small mud and thatched structures, which are used for the two daily nap periods. The water buffalo seem to graze pretty much on their own. Often after a rice crop has been harvested, the buffalo are allowed to graze on anything that is left. This also serves to fertilize the crops. It's also interesting to see flocks of 300 to 400 ducks being herded along the road to the fields. Once again the ducks fertilize the fields, but upon maturity, they are used for duck dinner.
         The children always wave and since American women are a definite minority, we are something completely unique to them. If you stop, you'll be surrounded immediately and they will touch you to see what you are like. The blonde hair and blue eyes seem to fascinate them the most. Since these people have probably never been out of their village in their lives, they know nothing of makeup. Blue eye shadow really confuses the children because they seem to wonder if the blue eyes have stained my skin. They also find dresses different and every now and then, one will become bold and lift up your skirt a bit to see just what we wear underneath. One has to take all of this with a grain of salt. Also on the way to the beach you pass an irrigation ditch where the people bathe and wash their clothes. Speaking of clothes, children lack for them. Small children wear tops, but no bottoms. At least mothers avoid a problem of diapers and diaper rash. Usually when we come back, the Koreans are out doing their daily drill. These fellows are definitely hard core and the majority could win against a larger man at any time. Because the Koreans are merciless with prisoners, the VC stay away from the perimeter.

January 12, 1968:       Today we had a snake show from the Air Force Serpentarium. The show was centered around the poisonous snakes found in the immediate area ranging from the cobra to the bamboo viper. During the demonstration one of the snake handlers was bitten. He was rushed to the dispensary to be treated. During the show one fellow dropped a plastic chord on my neck and because I was thinking about snakes, I mistook the chord as a snake and nearly passed out. Everyone got a chuckle out of it, but I had to work at being a good sport. This job can build character at times.

January 15, 1968:       Liz Ann and I went into Phan Rang today. We hitchhiked both in and back. Sometimes it is hard to believe that this country is at war. The market place is huge in Phan Rang and reasonably clean. What seemed to shock me the most was the meat market. The meat just lies on the counter or hangs from a hook in the open air and is covered with flies. Dogs wander around constantly and two were asleep on the counter next to the meat. I'll never eat in a Vietnamese restaurant now.

January 18, 1968:       Tonight was photography night at the center. Sgt Campbell taught everyone how to work the enlarger and develop pictures. The way people barter with one another is fantastic. In exchange for film, Peter promised to drive Sgt Campbell around to take photos in Australia. Sgt Campbell had one photo of the true gore of war; a Vietnamese soldier had been stabbed and then had had his throat slit and one of his ears cut off. War atrocities seem to work both ways.

January 19, 1968:       I received a second proposition; not me actually, but he asked which one of us was available for a date. At first I didn't understand and I laughed and told him that it was a silly question since all of us date, but who we dated was a matter of personal preference. He persisted and he said that for money a Red Cross girl would go on a date. Being dense I didn't understand yet. Finally he became blunt and just asked which one of us would go down for $50. I was insulted, but instead of breaking down in tears as I did with the last one, I explained that the rumor was false. I further explained that if the Red Cross verifies these rumors with fact, the girl is sent home immediately. I also asked him to judge us as individuals, which we are. I was even bold enough to ask if we had conducted ourselves in a manner, which might invite such a response. He assured me that we hadn't, but he had heard that the rumor was true. He apologized and said that he was glad that I had set him straight as he would declare the rumor false if he heard anyone say it. I was surprised that he'd ask such a thing to begin with.

Airborne in Vietnam
by: Richard Luttrell

The 101st in Vietnam today
Humping a rucksack night and day.
Fighting Charlie off this land
And always holding the upper hand.
We sight him in down our bore
The shot cries out
"We are hard core".
We are not navy, leg or marine,
But Airborne, the supreme.
Airborne Infantry, we're the best,
Ask our leader, he's General West (moreland).
Extraction tomorrow is what I hear,
Time for a shower and a cold beer.
But most honor our dead
And recognition for the blood they shed.
Now the taps are beginning to sigh.
I feel my eyes begin to cry
One of these men I used to know
Hopkins was his name, our RTO (radio telephone operator).
But he won't be forgotten,
You wait and see.
He'll go down in the paratrooper's history.
The enemy will continue to take lives,
But never will they take our Airborne's pride.

Christmas in Vietnam
by: Richard Luttrell

As we walk through this jungle, cold, rainy and wet
'Cross this lonely valley, tired, beat and sweat.
Walk this paddy dike in a very lonely way,
Knowing coming daylight is a very special day.
Yes Christmas for some is presents, food and toys,
But for the infantry in Vietnam, it's lonely nights, fire fights and artillery noise.
But we will go on fighting and with faith in Christ, we will end this war.

Let's Grow Up by Richard Luttrell
Twelve months we are away from home,
Sent from America, these jungles to roam.
The communists we fight to maintain the peace,
And hoping soon, this war will cease.
You protesters and demonstrators waving your signs,
Have you ever personally had to fight to keep alive?
What do you know about this war?

You're tearing down everything we're fighting for.
So open your eyes and realize at least,
We're not here for land, but to maintain peace!
So put down your signs and throw them away,
This American soldier is here to stay.

Even though my idealism is shattered once in awhile by men like the propositioner, it's rebuilt by young men such as Richard Luttrell, who gave me these poems. He is a sensitive, humane person. It's for men like him that I'm glad to be here. I hope God watches over him and the others.

Richard Luttrell was an 18 year-old trooper with the 2/327th, 1st Brigade, 101st Airborne. At the end of the day in the bush, while his comrades would gather to recount their tales, Luttrell would sit off by himself and express his feelings in the form of poetry. These poems reflect an infantryman's views on Airborne, Christmas and Protesters. They were given to Jan, whom he did not know, because she was someone from back home who cared. Neither one expected their paths to cross again. [See letter below]

January 26, 1968:       The Americans dropped leaflets telling the VC to come over to their side. Likewise the VC have leaflets for us telling the men to refuse to go the battlefront and to demand repatriation. We saw a group of the Robin Hood fighting helicopter squad leave on a raid. When all twelve were in the air, they looked like dragonflies winging off into the distance. Some of the men were in the hospital and the 2/327 has been hit hard in the Song Bai area. One fellow had been on patrol with five others on an LRRP (long range reconnaissance patrol) and they had been attacked. He told me that they had been gunned down and while his buddy was burning, he tried to save him, but his arm was broken and useless. He still didn't know how he got out. Then he told me that he hated all the people over here and broke down. All I could say was that everything was OK and that he should be thankful to be here at all. Yet that wasn't necessarily true and we both knew it. It's frustrating not to be able to help when they need it the most. Song Bai seems to be a hard core area so if the 101st does move out, there's no telling where we will be sent.

January 28 1968:        I get to paint a silly drawing of a man holding a flower and a crossbow on one of the gunships (armed helicopter). The 173rd call themselves the Crossbows and are members of the Robin Hood squadron. The pilot, TC, wanted the drawing to look like him. The gunship will be named Flower Power. Every once in awhile I become disgusted as I am now. Some man locked our mamasan in the TV room and molested her. We sent fellows after him, but he got away. I can't understand why this man didn't carry his stateside standards with him while here. I assume he would not have done that at home, but maybe that's not true. Why can't people always know that the Vietnamese are people too? I've just been through my first mortar attack. The whole thing seemed unreal. The ground shook, but until the sirens went off I didn't know that it was incoming. They say they sound different from outgoing, but I can't tell. We rushed to the bunker, but it all seemed so unreal. Maybe because I was so frightened. Every time a gun went off, theirs or ours, it didn't seem to matter since it felt as if someone had put pressure on your stomach. The sirens wailed for six minutes and then stopped. Now that it's over, we can come out. The air reeks of phosphorus and the sky is lighted with flares and the fires of the buildings, which were hit. It makes me nervous.

January 30, 1968:       I'm still in Lai Khe and the previous night's destruction has been cleaned up. There were 17 dead and 19 wounded. The damage was not all done by mortars, but also RPG or rocket propelled grenades. We visited the men in the hospital and no matter how hard I try, I can't keep it from bothering me. The moans are bad enough, but some fellow, who had tubes in his stomach, arms, nose and mouth, started to gag because of the one in his nose. I had to leave. It was terrible of me, but if I had stayed one moment longer I would have gotten sick or passed out. Life seems even more precious when you see others barely holding on to it.

January 31, 1968:       I'm back in Phan Rang. At Cam Ranh Bay I picked up a stray. For once it wasn't a dog, but a Vietnamese nun and an orphan, who couldn't speak English. After about five tries at hitchhiking, I got them where they had to go. My only clue was an address on her baggage. Tonight Phan Rang is expecting to be mortared. The center is closed and we're observing a blackout. It's slipped out that of the three designated targets, one is the center where we usually have a crowd and our house since we're a morale-boosting factor. Lovely! It's a backhanded compliment that they consider us important. Also Cam Ranh Bay is being quarantined due to the bubonic plague. It's not a good day here at all.

February 1, 1968:       Today I was very tired and all day this one fellow told me to smile. Now if I had a smile frozen on my face, it would be phony. Just like a sorority rush party. At any rate, a smile should be spontaneous and heartfelt. I refuse to turn into an emotionless robot. Excitement came this morning when Liz Ann went to see the scout dog company off. She was bushwhacked for about an hour's time. Her only problem -- keeping her pink sweater clean! We're having another blackout security night and people are carrying weapons with them at all times. They've even built three bunkers for machine guns in case we have a land attack.

February 2, 1968:       It seems to take all types to make up this world. One of the men gave one of the girls a douche kit in a brown paper sack. To me, that man showed the lowest form of intelligence. On the other end of the spectrum are the men who will help you cut out paper letters for a bulletin board or volunteer to carry the cups for you. Today for instance, one fellow brought me a sandwich, because he thought I looked skinny. Another fellow left an ice pack at the door with a note saying, "Thanks for just talking with me". When people are like that, it makes your day and the little inconveniences worthwhile and easy to take.

February 4, 1968:       The 101st has a new commanding general (Barsanti) and he has put everything off limits to the men. This includes Thap Chan, Phan Rang, the beach and even the strip. The strip should be explained further. It looks like an old frontier town with the fake fronts on the buildings. The strip is composed of bars and houses of ill repute only. At one time the girls were given shots once a week for VD, but wind of that got back to the states. It seemed as though the Army was condoning the strip and it was ordered by Congress to be stopped. At any rate our attendance at the center will go up, but I hope trouble doesn't come with it, as we'll have the wild ones visit us too.

February 5, 1968:       Today we learned that there is a reward of $100 for a man's head and the 101st patch being offered by the VC. The VC have started a terrorism campaign on the civilians. One IVS worker from north of Phan Rang was kidnapped, tortured and then killed. It seems so senseless to kill a man, who is helping the people, but then that is exactly what the VC don't want. The VC can be terribly cruel. They will kill a GI and let his death work on his comrades. For instance a man will be found hanging from a tree but his head will have been chopped off and it will be between his legs. For instance, bamboo when watered will grow 4" in a day. They'll strap a man an inch above the ground, but underneath him they'll have a hundred bamboo plants sharpened to needle point. They'll water the bamboo and by the end of two days the man will be a pincushion. They also have ways to keep men alive until he has been almost completely skinned. Women prisoners are raped, then tortured and then finally killed. It's impossible for me to imagine these atrocities being carried out as I still try to believe that all men are basically good. How can one endure a man's screams of pain I'll never understand. Why in heaven's name can't all men be kind? It seems so simple.

February 7, 1968:       At the beach they have a salt developing field. The seawater is channeled into small, flat rectangular pools and then the sun goes to work and evaporates the water and leaves the salt. The salt is then scrapped up with long poles, which have flat heads. The salt is then put into piles where it is dried for shipping and later sold. How it is cleaned, I have no idea. I also saw the fields being worked or tilled. The people use water buffalo and it took an entire afternoon for one small area of land to be worked. The patience of these people is remarkable.

February 9, 1968:       Tonight we had our first real trouble at the center. One man propositioned Liz Ann three times and when she told him to leave the center, he got nasty. He asked her in a loud voice for everyone to hear if he could get "a piece of ass for $75". Anyway Dominic told him she wasn't like that and to lay off. Liz Ann just told him to get out. He became angry and one of his friends came over. The one man lunged at Liz Ann with a knife, but Dominic sidestepped in his way. Dominic was about to get it when another man tried to help him. Dominic got his wrist slashed. Finally the military police arrived and the place was cleared. Dominic will be all right, but it made me realize what a precarious situation we are in. It's beginning to hit me hard that perhaps the world isn't just sunshine and flowers like I've always thought. Perhaps people are basically evil, but I'm still hanging on to the idealistic belief in the goodness of people as long as I can. I wish too that people would stop expecting the worst of us until we prove otherwise.

February 15, 1968:     This afternoon a man went berserk at the center and yelled, "this is God's country" and started swinging. They caught him and he's now in the hospital. I wonder what set him off, but it's surprising that more men don't go off the deep end. I bought Dad an ivory fisherman to match the one I sent to Mom earlier.

February 20, 1968:     At the beach I saw a small Amerasian child named Bob. He was named after his American father. What is sad about the situation is that the mother is Vietnamese with a daughter by another American and she is still unmarried. It's deplorable that this sort of thing is taken so lightly. Part of the child's heritage is American yet he'll never know any of the benefits, which are rightfully his. As it is, he'll grow up in poverty. Even worse, Amerasians are less accepted in Oriental societies than our own.

February 24, 1968:     Cece asked my preference for a new assignment. I said I liked the center. I also arranged to go on R&R to Japan the last week in April.

February 28, 1968:     Charlotte's mother wrote some very good points about the propositioning problem. She felt that we shouldn't be overly harsh as we are the only females around and that the fellows are feeling certain urges at their ages. All this is true of course, but it would be nice if everyone could remain a gentleman. At any rate I shouldn't let it bother me as much as it does. Col. Kupow sent a message to the troops that they are no longer supposed to bother the Red Cross girls under penalty of court martial. This was the 1st Sgt's announcement at all company formations at 6:00; p.m. this evening.

March 4, 1968:           I called Pat in Lai Khe about R&R and we're going to go together. Now I'm really looking forward to it, as I'll have a good friend to share it with. Tonight at the center we're having a hootenanny and it should be fun. We've popped popcorn for the occasion and it will be well received, as popcorn for the troops is a very rare event indeed. I'm becoming hard core, as the meagerness of my surroundings doesn't affect me any longer. Nor do I notice the odor of the outdoor latrine.

March 5, 1968:          A quote from Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand:" I swear by my life and my love of it that I will never live for the sake of another man, nor ask another man to live for me". She seems to have something very basic there. I'm going to try very hard to stop worrying about what other people think. It's time I realized that my life actually is of no meaning to people other than myself and my family. I must do only what I think is best for me, as only I can know my innermost feelings. I just can't hurt others in the process.

March 13, 1968:         Today we had hot water!!! One has no idea of just what a luxury that can be. Until today I haven't stepped completely into the shower for ages. I've taken baths in a bowl of water, which has been heated up by the sun. We have another dog. It's so tiny that it can easily fit into one's hand or shoe. It's a brat dog though and is a problem since it's rather goofy as far as Doofy, the other dog, goes. Tiger (Colonel Kupow's dog before he went home) was sent to Lai Khe to Col. Waldrop. Tiger had been recently neglected with the change in personnel next door where he lives. We are definitely getting one of the new girls in country. She should be here this Saturday. We hope she likes us and the dogs.

March 15, 1968:         Today I worked on my program for the clubmobile run. It is a program on cartoons. It has several main parts. One is a flashcard game with famous quotes like "What's up doc?" Naturally that's Bugs Bunny. A matching board (one for each team) with people featured in cartoon strips. Another activity shows trademarks, for instance, a GE lightbulb stands for Mr. Magoo. The main activity is a jigsaw puzzle. To earn a puzzle piece one must answer a question on cartoons. The first team to completely assemble the puzzle is the winner.

March 20, 1968:         TV and potato chips for the first time. What luxuries. Today Diana and I went on the Bear Cat run. We served Kool-Aid in several places, served lunch and did a program on history at four stops. I wrote home and hope someone will send over the yellow marshmallow Peeps for Easter. There are so many inconsequential items at home that are taken for granted, but would be worth their weight in gold over here.

March 22, 1968:         Got up at 5:45; AM to go to Ben Phuoc. We visited all the fellows, programmed and served. It was a long, hot day. Some fellow came by tonight and was very insulted that I wouldn't visit with him. I was just too tired and after work, my time is my own. I didn't mean to be rude and I just hope he won't hate all Red Cross girls now. Coming back from Ben Phuoc we caught a ride which took us to Vung Tau and then here. Vung Tau is the center of supply for the southern region as well as the in-country R&R center. One more run tomorrow morning and then I'm off for Phan Rang or what's left of it.

March 24, 1968:         Sometimes I wonder if the center is too much like grade school. For instance for St. Patrick's day I drew a huge leprechaun and shamrocks in the background and decorated the center. At any rate I conned several fellows into helping me paint. It was fun, but it seemed like decorating a classroom for a holiday. Every once in awhile some fellow will ask how we take all the noise, confusion etc. One guy summed it up so beautifully when he said that we do a good job of humoring the troops. Sometimes, it is that indeed, but I'm also learning to not judge too harshly without considering the why of a situation or attitude first.

March 28, 1968:         I received word that I'll be going to Qui Nhon along the coast with Charlotte. I'm very glad that we both get to go. Aretha was spayed today and it turned out that she was pregnant with five puppies. At the center tonight we were busy with sculpture made from melting plastic spoons. We had Americans and Koreans alike working on the project. It was silly, but fun.

March 29, 1968:         Today I learned that Bob died in action. It's hard to realize that he's not here any longer. He was such a wonderful man and had what can best be termed as human dignity. He has five beautiful children with no mother, so what will happen to them?

 

April 7, 1968: Today was our last day at the center. Quite a few fellows came up and told us that we would be missed and that they appreciated our coming here to help make things easier for them. It made us all feel good. I received my sayonara book.

Photo: January 24, 1968 publication of "The Screaming Eagle," the 101st Airborne newspaper.

Upon her return to the States, Jan worked as a high school teacher for one semester in Littleton, Colorado. Jan left the teaching job to join Pan Am as a stewardess. She hoped to fly the R & R flights so she could, in some sense, continue her support of the men in Vietnam. However, Pan Am had other plans for her. She was assigned to Chicago as a home base to fly the European circuit and was never able to work the R & R routes. She spent thirteen years with Pan Am, including a three-month leave of absence to do volunteer work with the Thomas Dooley Foundation in Laos. In Laos, she made daily runs to the villages along the Mekong River and assisted the medical teams who provided public health instruction and services.
Photo: 1969 article written by Jan in the Pan Am flight crew magazine.
It features Jan in the field with a squad of airborne troopers.

Today, Jan McMullen is married, has a twenty-six year old stepdaughter, and serves as an administrative law judge in the State of Washington.

The American Red Cross initiated a recreation program known as Supplemental Recreation Activities Overseas (SRAO) during WW II. It was during the Korean War that the connection with donuts first emerged. The SRAO units planned and presented recreation programs, usually set up in company mess halls where coffee and donuts were served. The young women who staffed these programs naturally became known as "Donut Dollies". With the landing of the Marines at Đà Nàng in 1965, the US Military Assistance Command requested that the American Red Cross provide SRAO clubmobile service in Vietnam. These clubmobiles were set up to reach isolated company and battalion-size units throughout the theater of operations. The first clubmobile unit opened in Đà Nàng in September 1965. By mid-1967, the U.S. military buildup had reached half a million men. By that time, the Red Cross had 20 clubmobile units, 12 with recreation centers.

Richard Luttrell survived the war and resides in Rochester, Illinois today. He serves as the Public Information Officer for the State Department Of Veteran Affairs. When made aware that his poems were recorded in Jan's diary, he sent her the following note.r in searching for the seven year old daughter o

Jan:

Reading your Diary took me back to a time of pride, sorrow, laughter, and tears. You are more familiar with the 1st Brigade, 101st Airborne than any media source; or anyone else, unless they served with us. You are one of us for sure, No Slack! Trooper Jan. We all thought we were invincible, you know well, Balls of the Eagle

It is my prayer that your journal will serve as an important tool in letting the world know how proud, brave and innocent we boys of Company A, 2/327th, 1st Brigade, 101st Airborne were. We fought, bled and died for one another. When I was last wounded I cried out for my Mother, yes brave paratrooper wanting his Mom. I truly believe thanks to you many of us were as close to Mom as we could have been. Thank you for being there and thank you for your service

You are truly a member of our No Slack Battalion!

Respectfully Yours,
Richard A. Luttrell