This afternoon, Jim "Foggy" Ryon will meet with men he hasn't seen in four decades.
The dozen or so shipmates who served with him on the USS Stormes off the coast of Vietnam in 1966 will visit Arlington National Cemetery and stop at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Wall in Washington, D.C.
Those stops will make good pictures, but the real reason Ryon said he's flying to the nation's capital is to sit with these men and reconstruct a scene that has haunted him for 44 years.
"We're going to mix it all up; we're going to cry, embrace and laugh," said Ryon, a Chattanooga native.
For decades after his time in Vietnam, Ryon brushed aside what happened over five days beginning Sept. 13, 1966. The Chattanooga News-Free Press ran a wire story four days after the incident, crediting the crew of the Stormes with "killing at least 225 communist troops attacking a South Vietnamese army force."
Ryon knew the truth: Along with killing hundreds of Viet Cong soldiers, U.S. troops also killed and wounded dozens of women and children, something not reported at the time nor since.
"The consciousness of guilt was so overbearing ... I was angry toward people; I would just fly off the handle," he said. "But then it would also be the opposite. ... I would fall into the deepest depression."
Michael Sukeena, one of Ryon's shipmates, forwarded information about the bombardment to the office of Sen. Joseph Lieberman, I-Conn., a senior member of the Armed Services Committee. The senator has requested the U.S. Navy to look into a citation for the actions that saved American troops, a Lieberman spokesman confirmed.
But Ryon wants more. He wants the public to know what really happened.
The bombardment
Ryon picked up his nickname of "Foggy" in the Navy. Because he was a former boxer, his shipmates would tease him about being punch-drunk -- or foggy -- any time he would drift away, lost in his thoughts.
He had been in the Navy for six months when the Stormes was assigned to run gun support for U.S. and South Vietnamese forces near the village of Mo Duc on the coast of Vietnam.
His job was to load charges and 25-pound projectiles into five-inch guns whose thunderous roars fired metal shells hundreds of yards, rocking the 9,000-ton ship wildly.
At 3:28 a.m. on Sept. 13, 1966, Ryon first entered combat.
Hundreds of Viet Cong were about to overrun American and South Vietnamese troops near Mo Duc. For the next four days, the ship's guns fired an estimated 1,900 rounds at a strip of beach and jungle where the enemy was hiding.
"I just smelled gunpowder, massive amounts of gunpowder," he said.
At one point on the first day of the bombardment, Ryon was told that "body parts were hanging in the trees." As the sun rose and the ship stopped firing, Ryon and other sailors went up to see the devastation -- smoking buildings and fires. Some sailors were proud, boasting about the dead enemy; others didn't say a word.
A few hours later, a message came through that wounded enemy soldiers were inside a church on the shore. The Stormes crew was told to resume firing.
Some sailors, like Ryon's friend John Kaperka, learned in minutes that there were women and children in the church, but Ryon and other sailors didn't find out until a few days later, after the bombing was finished.
"We blew that building to smithereens," Ryon said, choking back tears. "There were no wounded, just religious leaders and children."
On the Stormes, Kaperka, who is now retired and lives in Tucson, Ariz., relayed information from all parts of the ship to the captain. In that job, he received details about what was happening onshore from the soldiers.
Talking about the incident is difficult. Kaperka, who will be in Washington today with Ryon, stops and starts when recounting the experience. But the men on the Stormes didn't know that their firing would kill innocent people, he says. They weren't told about the women and children; they were following orders.
Repercussions
After leaving Vietnam, Ryon just didn't think about it for a while. Except for good times with his friends, it wasn't important.
But years passed and the nightmares began. Shortly after the Persian Gulf War in 1990, then more so after the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks, his dreams intensified. He received treatment, medication and counseling, which he said have helped him manage the symptoms.
But he wants recognition and an attempt at closure.
Chattanooga Vet Center counselor Michael Bearden said delayed reactions to trauma, even by decades, are common. In his counseling experience, he estimated he's met at least 100 Vietnam veterans who started showing signs of trauma after Sept. 11, 2001.
Ryon sees the justfication, that he and his shipmates performed their duty in war, that they helped comrades in need. But he can't shake the unintended result -- that women and children died in the process.
That is why his goal is for the crew members of the Stormes to receive a Navy citation for their actions that he can someday present to Vietnamese survivors of the bombardment. In that way, maybe he can make amends.
Bearden, himself a Vietnam veteran, said receiving recognition from the government for actions, wounds or service is a step in helping veterans reconcile their war experience.
"It's a validation of what they were involved in," he said. "That [the government] really acknowledges what they went through."
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