By Corpsman Ronald C. Mosbaugh

  2/1 Hotel Company 1966-1967

HMCM USNR RET.

Email: RMosbaugh@outlook.com

 Jungle Boots in The Rice Paddies

A Christian perspective of war

 To begin my story, I would like to set the stage by exploring my moral character. I was raised in a Christian family and was saved at a young age. I live by Christian principles with high moral values. I guess you could say I was a fundamentalist. The cliché “I don’t drink, don’t chew, and don’t go with girls that do” described me well. I always tried to represent myself as a faithful Christian. In doing so, I did not curse; it was a sin to swear. I was aware of numerous biblical scriptures that substantiate this. When a Christian cursed, he identified himself with the enemy of God. It was wrong to praise God in one sentence and use his name in vain in the next. I do not mention this topic of cursing as a statement of pride or bragging; it was just the way I was raised. At the age of 81, I still do not cuss. That is not to say I never sinned, because we are all sinners from birth.

“If you have integrity, Nothing else matters.”

 “If you don’t have integrity, nothing else matters... Alan K. Simpson

Before coming to Vietnam, I was concerned about killing a person. If the situation presented itself, could I pull the trigger? In studying the Bible, I learned that God’s command was against murder, not killing. Nowhere did the Bible say that believers should not join the military and, thus, should not participate in defending their country. Numbers 25:8-13 was one of many biblical accounts where killing was required to eradicate sin. God, I knew, was a loving God, but he was also a just God. Matthew reassured me 10:34, which stated, “Do not suppose that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I did not come to bring peace, but a sword.”

Being a Christian in Vietnam was not an easy task. We were treading on Satan’s playground, and he was the headmaster. Lucifer and his hordes of demons were working overtime to collect our warriors as their POWs. I endured trauma to its fullest.

The sights and sounds have been buried deep in the corridors of my mind for over sixty years, like haunting clouds that are always on the horizon. I witnessed killings, old and young alike, some enemies and some not. I witnessed rape and other carnage that I would rather not talk about or even think about. I am sure that Satan enjoyed every minute of it! This might seem unusual to many of you, but I do not doubt that every soldier in Vietnam had a demon, or a guardian angel assigned to them. Each was whispering into our ears on how to carry out their mission. Being that I am on this subject, I have always thought that two wars were happening at the same time, one is in heaven between the good and bad angels, and the other here on earth between Satan’s demons and God’s angels. They were highly likely to be fighting in Vietnam with a veil separating us.

The Hotel Company did not have a chaplain assigned to us. Some of the marines knew I was a Christian, and since I was in the medical field, I guess some of them thought I could fill the role of a chaplain. I would lend them a sympathetic ear and try to reason with them. The daily trauma we endured caused a lot of emotional problems: stress, depression, high anxiety, crying, feelings of despair, and hopelessness. The list went on.

One problem I had was that I did not have a Bible. I checked with the other Marines and found that there was not a single Bible in our company. So, I just had to do the best I could without God’s written words to guide me.

Being a Christian in Vietnam was sometimes extremely hard. Many times, I was treating marines for wounds, and they would outright curse God for what was happening. Some said, “Why would God allow this to happen?” The agnostic marine would say, “If God is so good, why is there so much evil?” They would call God all kinds of names. At times when I heard this, I expected lightning to strike. What I never understood is why they never blamed Satan for the bad stuff that was happening.? After all, he is the great deceiver.

It was interesting that they were cursing God, and I was praising God for his mercy and protection. I do not doubt in my mind that God, or my guardian, watched over me. So many times, I could have been killed or severely wounded.

Many times, marines were killed within two to three feet of me. I cannot imagine how many times I could have been killed! Living by Christian principles in Vietnam was essential to me; I took the word of God literally. The Book of John 15:13 states, “Greater love hath no man than this that a man lay down his life for his friends.” The duties of a corpsman were many, but as a combat corpsman, our primary duty was to save lives and treat the wounded. I felt the responsibilities of a Christian and a corpsman were synonymous. I should be willing to lose my life to save a marine’s life.

Earlier, I mentioned angel warriors standing next to us, separated by a thin veil, another dimension, if you will. It might surprise many of you, but there might be at least ten to twelve separate dimensions. Hard to imagine. It does not take much research before one realizes there is “evidence” both for and against the existence of a spiritual realm or veil. It comes down to which studies one wants to believe. Most non-believers will not accept this theory if they cannot see it; they will not believe it. I have been a believer for most of my life, and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that God exists, and He may have billions of angels under His authority.

Angels are fascinating spiritual beings. Not only do they serve a role as God’s messengers, but they are also His warriors. They praise and worship God while also protecting and directing us on His behalf. When we arrive in heaven, we will likely be amazed to discover just how often God’s angels protected us or intervened on our behalf. If you were a warrior in Vietnam, this is a huge accomplishment! Whether you realize it or not, angels are watching over you at this very moment. What a wonderful creator God is. Won’t it be wonderful to hear someday the angels’ stories about what was going on behind the scenes in Vietnam? We know that God is All-Knowing, All-Present, and All-Powerful!

I mentioned in earlier chapters how God had saved my life, not counting other times I was protected. This is what gave me hope when I was in Vietnam.

I knew my guardian angel watched over me, not only by faith, but I could feel his spirit. One of the fascinating aspects of studying angelology is the stories people share about angelic encounters in warfare. There are many, such as Psalm 91: I will say of the LORD, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in Him I trust. Surely, he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler, and from the noisome pestilence. God sends angels with special orders to protect you wherever you go, defending you from all harm. If you walk into a trap, they’ll be there for you and keep you from stumbling. You’ll walk unharmed among the fiercest powers of darkness, trampling every one of them beneath your feet! What about 2 Kings 19, where God sent one of His angels to wipe out 185,000 Assyrians in a single night? What about the “angel of death that killed the firstborn son of every Egyptian family and the animals during Passover, before the Exodus began?

I could write much more about angels, as they are remarkable and marvelous, but it is essential to maintain a proper perspective about them. Dr. David Jeremiah wrote, “Angels are sent, but the messenger is never more important than the sender.” Our focus must be on Christ, who created and purposed these wondrous creatures.

Back to the battlefield: We were on a night patrol, several of the grunts had camouflage-painted faces; they were a scary sight! As we were walking during the patrol, I was following our radio operator, Corporal Bomar; He was from the Bay Area of California. At 19 years of age, he was already a seasonal warrior. He knew my fears and said, “Doc, just stick with me, our marines will protect you.” I was thinking of something much more substantial, that my Lord would protect me!

The night was extremely dark. I do not think I have ever seen so many stars. As we were nearing a small hamlet 26 miles south of Da Nang, we started hearing gongs and bamboo sticks. I asked Bomar what that was all about. He said it was Vietcong sending Morse code messages. The messages also had a psychological effect that played on our nerves.

I do not mind telling you it worked; my pants were already wet! It was essential to remain alert, so we had to keep our ears and eyes open for Charlie ghosting around. Within the first hour, we made contact with the enemy. They were waiting for us. The explosions of grenades and the firing of guns made it sound like the Fourth of July, but we were not celebrating the holiday. Then the inevitable happened—a marine yelled, “Corpsman up!” At that moment, I was scared beyond belief. I prayed as I had never prayed for God to protect me, as in Psalm 91, to help me in my skills to treat the wounded marine. This was the moment I had feared since my orders to Vietnam. My emotions were on high alert, and I was experiencing a fight-or-flight reaction. I was terrified and thought this could be the last day of my life. Side note: This patrol was fought on the Fourth of July 1966. This was the reason I wanted to finish this story today. 7/4/2025

I soon learned two marines were shot basically at the same time; they were about twenty yards apart in the rice paddy. I threw a poncho over us and switched on the flashlight. The first warrior was shot in the abdomen. He was yelling in pain; I injected a syringe of morphine to calm him down. I placed an abdominal battle dressing over his wound and carried him to the dike, out of harm’s way. A couple of marines carried him to an LZ (landing zone) for transport. The other warrior was shot in the face, instant KIA (killed in action).

There were more than 58,240 Americans who died in Vietnam; 11,465 KIA’s were less than 20 years old. The average age of all casualties was 23.11 years. When I returned to base camp, I had time to reflect on the events of our patrol. If I had to describe war, I would say that war was complete insanity in apocalyptic proportions.

There was something about being there, hearing the cries of the wounded, rifle firing, grenades exploding, the smell of gun powder, blood, and urine—that brought home the reality of war. I thought, if this is what my life is going to be like for the rest of my tour, I'm not sure it's worth it.

Maybe the Marines we just lost tonight were the lucky ones. Doubt was already creeping in; the thought of dying seemed perhaps an option. Satan was already planting a seed of doubt and despair.

As the Marines would say, “I just want to do my time and leave the slime.”

I want you to know that being a Christian in a war zone was not an easy mission. When you deal with death and mayhem daily, it plays on your mind and soul. However, my moral character and Christianity got me through the trauma. Even though Vietnam was Hell on earth, it uplifted me and strengthened my faith. Seeing firsthand how God protected me from significant harm was inspiring and amazing. I witnessed miracles happening before my eyes and stood spellbound by His acts of mercy.

To watch a Warrior, die while treating him on the battlefield was horrific. The look in their eyes and the words that were spoken, the ashen color of their skin, speak volumes to the scene. Their state of shock was undesirable. It was his final moment on this earth, now, the torment from his family back in the world.

The images are forever etched in my memory. I live with it every day. I get so overwhelmed with sadness; my tears confirm my state of mind.

My tour in Vietnam was filled with diverse stories, some of which were incredible and hard to believe. I conducted over 300 patrols during my thirteen months in-country: many were traumatic and unimaginable. After our first battle, I witnessed and felt the horrors of war. I knew we were as close to hell without being there. After a few searches and failed missions, my life had changed —and not for the better. The fear of dying is beyond description. It is finality. Life as we know it has come to an end. However, I have always taken comfort from the words of our apostle Paul, when he said, “to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord.” Being a Christian and saved at the age of 12 helped pave my path through Vietnam. I can’t tell you how many times I could have been killed but was saved through his grace.

The job of a corpsman was not an easy one. We put our lives on the line whenever a warrior was wounded or killed. That is what we were expected to do.

We were there to save lives, even if it meant giving our own lives to save fellow Marines. That is the reason Marines called us “the green angels”; we were their last hope. I witnessed several other corpsmen being killed or wounded as they tried to help other Marines. We were always in line of fire. We felt that it was our duty to be in the center of the battle. Over 645 Corpsmen were killed in Vietnam, and 3,300 were wounded in action. (WIA). During my tour, I treated over 200 Marines in battle, and many died while I was treating them. You never forget the look of fear on the face of a Marine who is about to die, the pitch of his voice, and the content of his language. Some would say, “Please write to my mom,” or “my family,” or “my girlfriend,” or whoever, and tell them I love them. These were heartfelt requests, and I am sorry to say I never carried out their requests. To this very day, I regret that decision; they deserved more than that. These were eighteen and nineteen-year-old kids, just out of high school; we were youngsters forced to grow up overnight. The screams still echoed in my ears; a wave of sadness still drenched me. I wish I did something for them, and knowledge them in some way! At times when I exhibit melancholy my eyes oozed wet for the sadness of all our warriors who gave their life for us. I keep asking myself, was the war worth it? Of course, we all know the answer, a big fat NO!!!!!

I remember running to the aid of a Marine who stepped on a landmine. He was screaming and crying, and obviously in a lot of pain. When I saw his legs, I realized they were barely attached. His entire body was a bloody mess. He was conscious, and I had no idea how he managed to remain alert. I applied a tourniquet to each of his legs and battle dressings to his other wounds. I also injected two ampoules of morphine into his deltoid muscle. He was in hypovolemic shock due to his severe blood and fluid loss. There was not much more I could do for him. I kept telling him, however, that help was on the way. I knew he was dying, and I’m sure he knew it, too. I sat next to him and placed his head on my lap. I squeezed his hand to let him know that he was not alone. He stopped crying out in pain as his breathing became more labored. His heartbeat slowed, and his pulse began to weaken. Finally, he made a few gurgling sounds and was quiet. In that final moment, when you hear his last breath and feel his final heartbeat, there is such a sense of loss. I remember the trembling of his hand as his grip faded. I was there for him to the end, and I surrendered him to the Soldier’s Angel. There was nothing else I could do. My tears began to flow and would not stop because they were coming from deep down inside.

We were on patrol once again, and occasionally we received a single sniper round, but no contact was made. Suddenly, we heard several weapons exploding, and then I heard that all-too-familiar cry, “Corpsman up.” My fear once again spiked. When I got close to his position, he was about thirty yards from us in a rice paddy. Even though he was in an open space, I was forced to run to his aid and treat the wound. Once again, I was exhibiting almost uncontrollable fear. I was perspiring profusely, and my nerves were a wreck. Deep inside, I wanted to turn around and run from the battle; it was a fight-or-flight response. It’s not easy to enter the lion’s den. I stepped off the dike into the water and started running as low as I could toward the Marine; it was a long run through the rice paddy water and mud, which slowed me down. My adrenaline was running so fast that I was worn out within the first few steps. I could hear bullets whizzing by me, and I don’t mind saying I was feeling fear.

 When I got to the Marine, I positioned myself on the back side of where the VC was shooting from. The Marine was in a lot of pain and was losing blood. Gunfire exploded in quick bursts, and the high-pitched sound of bullets flying preceded the sound of muffled bullets landing in the water of the rice paddies near us. Cries of the injured Marine pierced the battle sounds, and officers were yelling out commands in confusion. I immediately applied a battle dressing over the wound and started dragging him to the dike. I was crawling in the mud, pulling him a small distance at a time, and the Marines were giving me fire support. Bullets were splashing near us, and then it happened. The Marine received another bullet. His name is inscribed on the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Wall. He went from a “WIA” to a “KIA in the matter of minutes. Once again, I feared for my life. Do I get up and run, or do I finish my job? I knew what the answer was before the thought occurred to me. The Marines have a saying: Never leave a soldier behind.

I grabbed the Marine with his shirt collar and flak jacket and dragged him to the dike. At this point, the Marines grabbed me and the dead Marine and pulled us to safety. I was exhausted and trembling so much that I had trouble writing on the casualty card. This is the type of fear I am talking about.

 My life was spared yet another day, but I could have been the Marine who was killed lying next to me. I have asked this question many times: “Why not me, Lord?” I was put in harm’s way many times during my tour. Most of the Marines who were wounded or killed were hit while in the rice paddies. Here we had no cover and were silhouettes for the Vietcong shooting gallery.

 Most front-line grunts have experienced this kind of fear. We all knew we were expendable. It was an inevitable fact. Each day we lived was a day closer to returning to the world. Each day, we fought the enemy, not to win the war, but to stay alive. It was a fight for survival.

Resolution:

The people of South Vietnam are still suffering from the effects of the Vietnam War—not only from Agent Orange but also from landmines. Since the fall of Saigon, over 40,000 Vietnamese have been killed or injured by landmines and unexploded ordnance (explosives) left behind from that conflict. Through the years, I have prayed for our soldiers and the Vietnamese people.

“Only the dead have seen the end of the war.” Plato

When encountering a service member, a simple and sincere "Thank you for your service" is a meaningful way to express gratitude. Alternatively, you could say "Thank you for our freedom" or "Thank you for your sacrifice," both of which acknowledge their dedication and the freedoms they help protect.

Semper Fidelis (Always faithful.) HMCM E-9 Ron Mosbaugh