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Receiving the Distinguished Service Cross -- 34 years late
In a recent story in this column we reported on an amazing brush with death during the Vietnam War by a local man, Dr. Warren Jones (A Close Encounter of the Helicopter Kind).
Jones was reluctant to discuss that incident, but thanks to the efforts of his crew chief, we were able to learn "the rest of the story."
Apparently, such modesty was a normal thing in Jones' outfit, The 135th Aviation Co. Said Jones, "We were just doing our job (in Vietnam), counting down the days until it was time to go home. But if you want a real story of heroism in Vietnam read this story about another fellow in our outfit, Chief Warrant Officer Stephen Lawrence."
Again, the account was written by someone else, in Lawrence's case, by one of the fellows Lawrence rescued, Cpl. Michael Bagnell, of the 240th Aviation Co.
Bagnell was a crewman on a gunship that had been shot down in an empty village near the Cambodian border in South Vietnam, on Oct. 5, 1971.
He knew that any attempt to rescue him and three other crew members of their crashed helicopter would be futile -- the enemy would use him and his crew as bait to draw the rescue helicopters in, then shoot them down when they attempted to land.
Bagnell was sure he was going to die that day. The only choice was whether he would die by enemy fire or by the last round in his machine gun, which he would save for his own use. He had decided, "I would not give them (the enemy) the pleasure of shooting me!"
But then came Chief Warrant Officer, Stephen Lawrence, of the 135th.
Lawrence had been flying a gunship to escort Medevac units, flying low and drawing fire away from the Medevac helicopters. During the operation, Lawrence's own helicopter had been so badly damaged that its guns would not fire. Never-the-less, when he saw Bagnell's helicopter go down in a fall of flames, and its four-man crew jump out, Lawrence did not hesitate and decided immediately to attempt a rescue.
Recently (in 2005) Lawrence recalled the incident, "We threw everything we could overboard -- rocket pods, bullet casings, cans -- we figured maybe if we hit somebody on the head, from 1,000 feet up it would hurt. And we had to get all the weight we could off the plane, to take on four extra men."
Twice Lawrence attempted to land long enough for Bagnell's crew to make it on board. Both times he was forced to take off after just a few seconds, under a rain of enemy fire.
Bagnell remembers that they could see the helicopter land, but he and the other members of his crew were pinned down by enemy fire and couldn't move. "We could see the rounds hitting the helicopter, and they were doing great damage."
The third time Lawrence's helicopter put down, Bagnell knew would be their last chance for a rescue. As it touched the ground he and the rest of his crew dropped everything they carried, including his M-60, and ran to the helicopter. He recalled seeing Lawrence's co-pilot, trying to provide them cover, shooting out the door of his helicopter with only his .38 revolver. Recalling that tense scene, Bagnell said, "I wanted to laugh. The co-pilot was practicing the ultimate effort in futility up there, firing at all those enemy troops with that little revolver."
Three of Bagnell's crew dived on board Lawrence's helicopter. Bagnell was the last one to make it on and could only jump on the skid of the helicopter as it took off. He was dangling over the side. The co-pilot dropped his revolver and hung on to his clothes.
Back at the base, Bagnell described the helicopter: "It was so badly damaged it just fell over -- after landing safely, the rotor blades still going. We were hit by so many rounds, the sides of the helicopter looked like Swiss cheese, and yet there was not a scratch on any of us."
For their heroism, Lawrence's crew members received Silver Stars, and Lawrence was recommended for the Medal of Honor. But before Lawrence could receive his medal his tour of duty in Vietnam came to an end and he rotated back to the United States -- any thought of medals forgotten by Lawrence (and by the Army as well).
For his part, Lawrence left his combat years in Vietnam behind him, and moved on to other pursuits. He returned to his home in Virginia Beach, Va., went to college, married and became a Coast Guard pilot, retiring in 1994. Since 1994 Lawrence has flown planes for FedEx.
In 2004, out of the blue, Bagnell, by now living in California, got a message from Roger Almquist, a retired Army colonel who was seeking information about Stephen Lawrence and his crew, who had rescued the men of the 240th.
Almquist had heard of Lawrence's heroic rescue and knew that he had never received his medal. Almquist was determined to get the story from the men involved with the rescue and make sure that Lawrence got the honor he deserved.
When Bagnell heard what Almquist had in mind, "I just sat there and cried." The rescue had never been far from Bagnell's thoughts. Each Oct. 5, the day they were rescued -- "Our Day!" he and his crew chief had called one another, giving thanks for their good fortune.
For Lawrence, the incident was a closed chapter in his life. He had not attended Vietnam reunions, or kept in touch with his old comrades. He had not talked with anyone with whom he served in Vietnam in 33 years.
He didn't even bother to display the medals that he had received. Yet, when Lawrence heard of the efforts that Almquist was making he was deeply touched.
As it turned out, the volumes of paperwork that Almquist anticipated to get Lawrence's medal were not necessary.
A researcher at the National Archives had already discovered the oversight.
He discovered that Lawrence had indeed been awarded the Distinguished Service Cross in 1972, the Military's second highest award, just below the Medal of Honor. And with Almquist's help, the two were able to locate Lawrence.
On March 25, 2005, Lawrence went to Washington, standing in the Pentagon's Hall of Heroes to receive his Distinguished Service Cross -- 33 years late.
Attending the ceremony were Lawrence's old co-pilot and Bagnell -- who had not spoken to Lawrence since the war.
Says Bagnell, "Lawrence's actions went beyond what is expected of men who live and die in each other's company ... ordinarily, in your last 30 days, they try to protect you. He should not even have been flying that day. He should have been back relaxing in the Officer's Club."
Bagnell was critical of the Army for not recognizing the man who saved him all those years ago. He felt that the Army owed Lawrence an apology.
Lawrence's wife, on the other hand, was happy, in a way -- that it took so long. Said she, "Being at the center of attention was not where Steve wanted to be. He's never told five people the story of what happened. Now, our children can attend the ceremony honoring their father."
Steve Lawrence himself dismisses any thought of an apology from the Army -- He refers to Army General Order 873, dated May 1, 1972: "Awarded: Distinguished Service Cross … for extraordinary heroism in connection with military operations involving conflict with an armed hostile force in the Republic of Vietnam … Chief Warrant Officer Lawrence's extraordinary heroism and devotion to duty were in keeping with the highest traditions of the military service and reflect great credit upon himself, his unit and the U. S. Army."
"I knew where I was needed. This (honor) is enough" says Lawrence.