James “Jim” Davidson: Three Times is Not Always a Charm

By Charlie Souhrada, Honor Flight Chicago Veteran Interview Volunteer

On August 5, 1967, Jim Davidson’s draft notice arrived in the mail. Six months later, he was an Army grunt in Vietnam. Now, some 56 years later, he remembers the details of every firefight he was in and still can’t get his arms around the fact that he made it home while many of his brothers in arms didn’t.  

Born and raised in the southwest side of Aurora with his younger sister, Sandy, Jim’s childhood was relatively carefree thanks to his hard-working parents, Jim and Florence. Summer days were spent playing with neighborhood kids and summer nights at Stephens-Adamson Field, home to the Aurora Sealmaster Bearings, one of the top men’s fast pitch softball teams in the country. “We lived a half block away from the field and my dad and I would go watch the games.” In the summer of 1959, Jim was working at the ballpark when the Sealmasters won their first National Championship, which cemented Aurora’s reputation in the sport for decades. 

In 1965, Jim graduated from West Aurora High School and had no intention of going to college. Instead, he increased his part-time hours at a Jewel Grocery store and worked at a gas station on the side to pay for a new car. “I bought a 1966 Chevy II Super Sport in March and paid it off in November. That was my all-time favorite car, I wish that I had kept it!” 

A few months later, while working at a new job selling appliances at a Sears store in Aurora, his draft notice arrived. “It was a Saturday. I was living with my parents and went home for lunch when my mother said, ‘something came in the mail for you.’ I opened it up and it was my draft notice!” Two weeks later, Jim reported for basic training at Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri. After completing basic, Jim reported to Fort Polk, Louisiana, for infantry training. It was clear that he was bound for Vietnam.

On March 6, 1968, he arrived at Bien Hoa Air Base, Vietnam, two weeks after the Tet Offensive. “When they opened the doors of the airplane, three things hit us – the heat, the humidity, and the stench. The air just smelled rotten.” There, he was assigned to the 101st Airborne Division, the Screaming Eagles, a light infantry division designed to serve in squads and take terrain. “I was one of the first, non-airborne replacements,” he says. “They were losing so many people so fast that they couldn’t put us through jump school; they couldn’t train people fast enough.”  

Jim’s entire division, regardless of military occupational specialty (MOS), was sent to Phan Rang Air Base for several days of “Vietnam” training. Afterward, Jim flew north from Bien Hoa to Phu Bai, then rode a truck to LZ Sally, a small, military compound the size of four-five city blocks. There, he took his first-ever helicopter ride in a Bell UH-1 Iroquois, “Huey,” and spent his first night in the field with his squad. “My position was third man on an M60 machine gun team – the ammo bearer,” he says. “We were working in the rice paddies and hamlets around the city of Hue. The work was demanding.” 

According to the website, wearethemighty.com, 1968 was the bloodiest year in Vietnam, with the U.S. military involved in heavy fighting and suffering many casualties. “The night of April 9, we had our daily stand down. Our squad was left behind to follow other squads after dark then set up our own position. Everything then hit the fan and my best friend, PFC Doug Thompson, was shot through the heart. Then our fire team leader, “Pop” Scales, was shot in his side and that left me to return fire. It was a hit and run and I carried Doug out of there.”    

Two nights later, on April 11, what was left of his platoon was sent on a night ambush during a monsoon. “We set up an elliptical wall and were in there when they hit us around 1 a.m.,” he says. “They basically came in on top of us. We returned fire but couldn’t see because of the heavy rain. We radioed for help, but the main part of our company was also under attack. Nobody could help us, and we had to wait until dawn. I can almost remember, man for man, what happened that night. Out of 25 guys, we had five guys that weren’t killed or wounded.” When help finally came, he realized he had been wounded and was sent to a hospital where it was discovered that in addition to having his “pants blown out,” his eardrum had been perforated. After nearly two months in the hospital, Jim was sent back to the field. 

On June 2, 10 days later, Jim’s squad was involved in another heavy fight. “We were down in a trench with a tree line across from us and I saw a flash from a rocket propelled grenade, and the grenade landed against the back wall of our trench. Three men were hurt, and I helped get them out on a medevac. One of the other guys told me I was bleeding from the neck. I had taken part of the blast and in the excitement, didn’t even know it.” The next morning, Jim was medevac’d out and, despite the medical team’s efforts, the piece of shrapnel is still in Jim’s body to this day. After a couple of days in the hospital, Jim was sent back to the field for a second time. 

“When I got back, I said ‘I want off the machine gun team because we’re the number one target!’” As a result, Jim became the platoon’s demolition man and was responsible for blowing up bunkers and unexploded ordinance. “The biggest thing we came across was a 250-500-pound bomb that hadn’t exploded. So, the company moved on and they left one guy with me. I put a good-sized charge on it with a very long fuse. About 50-60 feet away there was a water buffalo. The bomb blew and I figured there’d be hamburger all over the place. But after the blast, the water buffalo was still standing!” 

On July 21, Jim was filling in as radioman when he was wounded a third time. That day, while working in extreme heat, his platoon was sweeping through a village with a tank and dog team for support. “The dog’s tongue was dragging on the ground and the handler had me radio at least twice to get the dog picked up. In the Army’s infinite wisdom, they decided to keep the dog out there. It was supposed to be finding booby traps and eventually, it found one.” 

According to Jim, the dog walked through a trip wire and detonated a grenade. The dog wasn’t hurt, but the handler, a nearby Army photographer and Jim were. The blast went off about six feet away from Jim’s rear, hitting him from top to bottom. A medic worked on Jim and carried him to a Huey “slick,” a helicopter transport without rockets or medical gear, which had landed nearby. “This medic, a smaller guy than me, picked me up fireman-style and carried me all by himself to the Huey. He fell twice, never asked for help, just got up and took me out of there.” 

Jim was taken back to the first aid bunker at LZ Sally, then medevac’d to the 22nd Surgical Hospital in Phu Bai where it was determined that he had been hit in eleven places and initial surgery was performed. He was then flown to the 95th Evacuation Hospital in Da Nang for additional surgery. Finally, Jim was sent to Cam Ranh Bay 6th Convalescent Center to recover for nearly two months then was sent back to his infantry company for the third time. 

“I was not happy,” he says. “Supposedly you’re wounded three times and are sent home. But they needed bodies.” Upon arrival, Jim was told to report to the first sergeant. “I thought, ‘oh boy,’ he heard that I don’t want to be here and he’s going to make me permanent point man or something!” Instead, Jim was assigned to serve as a door gunner with a helicopter unit that was being formed. “Our company was given orders to send one guy and I was in the right place at the right time!”   

In this role, Jim and his platoon flew “mundane” assignments, like taxi service, resupply, and observation. On December 31, 1968, Jim was promoted to Specialist 5th Class – SPC 5. He had earned his sergeant’s stripes and, in the process, a permanent assignment to the brigade commander’s helicopter. “I enjoyed flying,” he says. I carried my camera everywhere and got to see things. I even met Jimmy Stewart, who came to meet the troops, but didn’t want any fanfare.” 

On February 5, 1969, a monsoon rolled in, and the helicopter brigade was grounded for the rest of the day. After locking everything up, the crew chief ran into Jim’s hooch and told him to grab the guns, the bird was going up! “I grabbed the machine guns and up on the helipad, the Huey was already running, which was not protocol,” he says. “I was told to throw the guns in because ‘we’re taking off!’ Normally you’re standing on the ground to get the ammunition box and guns set. We had to figure out how to do that from inside the helicopter while we were airborne. Once we got the guns mounted, I plugged into the intercom system and learned they had lost contact with one of our helicopters and we were going out looking for them.” 

After flying to the mountains, Jim’s helicopter came on a ridgeline and saw some Army of the Republic of Vietnam forces (ARVNs) waving and landed nearby. Jim and the platoon leader, led by the ARVNs, went down the side of the mountain to find the wreckage of the missing helicopter. “It was one of the worst things I’ve ever had to do,” he says. “When the helicopter hit, it set off the jet fuel and incinerated everything. We had to retrieve what was left.” 

That night, back at LZ Sally, Jim made it clear he was done and didn’t want to fly anymore. “It was just my thought at the time,” he says. The next morning, Jim’s platoon leader ordered him and two other “short timers” to report and announced they’d done enough and told them to “go hide” for the next four weeks. “We’ve got enough new guys here, let them put in their time,” he said. 

On March 5, 1969, Jim left Vietnam. After fulfilling a brief assignment at Fort Eustis, Virginia, and earning his honorable discharge in August, he went back to his parent’s house in Aurora and back to work for Sears. On the surface, nothing had changed, but underneath, Jim knew he was destined for more.

Leveraging his GI Bill benefits, Jim started taking classes at Waubonsee Community College while working and raising a family. He dug deep and pursued school full time, completing two associate degrees, graduating from Northern Illinois University in May 1976 with a bachelor’s degree in marketing, and began working in management for Osco Drug. While building his career, Jim raised three children – Jennifer, Erin, and Steve – and found time to open and operate a store, West Suburban Model Railroad Center, in North Aurora for nearly 10 years. 

Eventually, he transitioned to manufacturing and retired in January 2015 from Aurora Bearing after a 36-year career. In retirement, he enjoys time with his wife, Martha, helped bring “The Moving Wall,” – a traveling, half-size replica of the Washington, D.C. Vietnam Veteran’s Memorial – to the Fox Valley three times, volunteers at the Aurora Area Interfaith Food Pantry and is a passionate model railroad enthusiast. 

Despite all that he has accomplished, Jim remains humble about his service. “I was drafted and just did my job. I still can’t figure out how I made it out and other guys didn’t.”  

Thank you, Jim! You have our respect and admiration many times over!