This is a picture of me and represents the pivitol experience that Vietnam was. The thing protruding almost out of my head was the long antenna on my radio. A combat company had three types of RTOs, as we were called. Platoon RTOs, artillery RTO and a battalion RTO. Each platoon in the company had an RTO and that RTO accompanied each patrol as they moved about the jungle. GIs always traveled with and RTO.

The CP, or command post, of the company was just that the command center. This 'platoon' consisted of the company commander, the artillery officer, he calculated and called in the artillery in support of out operations, and three RTOs. One RTO communicated with the platoon RTOs, the artillery officer had an RTO to call in the artillery and the battalion RTO communicated with the battalion level command posts. I was the battalion RTO.

It was my job had many responsibilities from requesting supplies to calling in coordinates for the next days patrol activities to calling in 'dust-offs'. Dust-offs were what I believed to be the most important part of the job. When a grunt would get shot or get hurt by a mine or booby trap I would be the one that would call in the helicopter to get him out. Time was critical to make sure he got out as quickly as possible to improve his chances of survival. I took this job very seriously.

It was those responsibilities as the battalion RTO that ultimately gave me the confidence to overcome being wounded myself and make something of myself when I returned home.