Chief Master Sgt. Richard Etchberger
On a lonely hill in Laos where he was on a highly classified CIA and Air
Force mission, Chief Master Sgt. Richard Etchberger fought against
overwhelming odds to save his crew and sacrificed his life to save
others. For his actions, even though he had to officially separate from
the Air Force to undertake the mission, he was awarded the Air Force
Cross. For years a ground swell of supporters had petitioned his name
for the nation's highest military honor, the Medal of Honor. However,
the mission was deemed too sensitive. A series of events led to Chief
Etchberger's nomination to reach Congress. On Sept. 21, 2010, President
Barack Obama presented the award 42 years later to his sons at the White
House. Since the founding of the Air Force in 1947, there have been
only 18 Airmen to receive the Medal of Honor. Chief Etchberger is the
first combat support Airmen.
He grew up in Hamburg, Penn. Friends and former teachers recall him as a
friendly and popular student, who played basketball, participated in
club activities, and became president of his class. He enjoyed camping
on the slopes of the nearby Blue Mountain.
He joined the Air Force in 1951. When a head injury from high school
sports prevented him from becoming a pilot, he became a specialist in
radio and radar maintenance. Known as Etch to his friends, he met his
wife, Catherine, at a Salt Lake City restaurant while stationed at Hill
Air Force Base, Utah. And when they married in 1956, Staff Sgt.
Etchberger became a husband and a father to an 8-year-old Steven. Over
the next three years, sons Richard and Cory would be born as the family
moved from Utah to Morocco to New York. As his family grew, his career
was also progressing; and his potential as an Airman and leader became
more and more apparent to his supervisors.
In 1967, Etchberger and his wife were flown to Washington, where they
were both sworn to secrecy about his next assignment: He was to become
one of some 40 Airmen tasked to operate covert radar installations in
Laos. By the time he was selected for this dangerous mission, Chief
Etchberger was among the most highly trained radar technicians in the
Air Force. He was deeply experienced, and at 34 not a very young man.
Since the American military did not officially operate in neutral
Laos, the 17-year veteran and the other technicians had to leave the Air
Force and become civilian employees of Lockheed Aircraft Services,
which as a private company was allowed to operate in Laos. This was a
process called "sheep dipping" where they were released from the Air
Force and hired by Lockheed to avoid giving the perception that Laos was
involved in the war with the U.S. government. The program became known
as Heavy Green, and when their mission was over, they would be welcomed
back into the U.S. Air Force.
The team of 19 were sent to a small landing strip and radar site on a
remote mountain in Laos called Lima Site 85 from November 1967 to March
1968. They protected only by the cliffs of their mile-high mountain
site. During this time, they directed 507 strike missions in North
Vietnam and Laos - 27 percent of all such missions in these areas. The
strikes attracted the attention of the North Vietnamese military. The
first North Vietnamese attack on the site came on Jan. 12, 1968. Two
Russian-built biplanes made three bombing passes. While they
unfortunately killed two local civilians and two guerrilla fighters, the
North Vietnamese aggressors failed to cause any significant damage to
the radar site.
After moving men and equipment into the area for months, the North
Vietnamese Army began their attack with a sustained artillery barrage on
the night of March 10, 1968. Mortar, artillery and rocket rounds began
falling about 6 p.m., and lasted almost two hours. Because their
quarters were vulnerable to shelling, the Chief and his off-duty radar
team took their sleeping bags weapons and survival radios and spent the
night on a cliffside ledge partially protected by a rocky overhang to
avoid incoming rounds. At 3 a.m., commandos scaled the cliffs and
assaulted the compound, killing 11 of the 19 Americans working at the
site.
Soon, the North Vietnamese commandos discovered the radar team's hiding
place and began shooting down the mountainside with automatic weapons
and lobbing hand grenades over the slope. Two of the Americans on the
ledge, Tech. Sgt. Monk Springsteadah and Staff Sgt. Hank Gish, were
killed. Two more were seriously wounded -- Capt. Stan Sliz and Staff
Sgt. John Daniel. Remarkably, the Chief was uninjured in the attack.
Using only his M-16 and a survival radio to call in airstrikes, he
fought off the attackers for several hours.
A CIA Air America helicopter crew, including pilot Ken Wood and flight
mechanic Rusty Irons, heard the radio's beacon call for help and rushed
to the site. When the helicopter arrived at 7:35 a.m., the Chief
repeatedly exposed himself to enemy fire in order to place his wounded
comrades in rescue slings to be hoisted one-by-one to safety. Chief
Etchberger had placed two comrades in the helicopter's rescue sling
before bear-hugging one more into the sling -- Staff Sgt. Bill Husband,
hiding in a different area on the site, ran toward the helicopter and
joined the chief on the hoist. But as the helicopter lifted off, it was
stuck with a barrage of armor-piercing fire. One bullet pierced the
underbelly, and struck him. He bled to death before the rescue craft
could reach the hospital. In a sad twist of fate, his daughter Traci was
born the same day that he died.
As Sergeant Husband ran past Staff Sgt. Jack Starling, who was wounded
and playing dead, Sergeant Starling yelled for him to tell the rescue
crew that he was still alive. A Jolly Green Giant crew successfully
rescued Sergeant Starling at 9:46 a.m. The crew included: pilot, Capt.
Rus Cayler; co-pilot, Capt. Joe Panza, and pararescueman, Sgt. J.J.
Rodgers.
Of the 19 Americans on the mountain, seven had been brought out alive
making this one of the largest, single, ground combat losses in Air
Force history.
For his heroic actions, Chief Etchberger was posthumously awarded the
Air Force Cross although the details of his mission were kept secret for
decades because the United States officially denied any offensive
presence in Laos.
As his citation for the Air Force Cross describes: "The enemy was able
to deliver sustained and withering fire directly upon this position from
higher ground. His entire crew dead or wounded, Chief Etchberger
continued to return the enemy's fire thus denying them access to the
position. During this entire period, Chief Etchberger continued to
direct air strikes and call for air rescue on his emergency radio,
thereby enabling the air evacuation force to locate the surrounded
friendly element. When air rescue arrived, Chief Etchberger deliberately
exposed himself to enemy fire in order to place his three surviving
wounded comrades in the rescuer slings permitting them to be airlifted
to safety."
At first, Chief Etchberger's wife were told that he had died in a
helicopter crash. The local newspaper in Hamburg, Penn., reported the
same, with little further information. But the family suspected there
was more to the story when the family was invited to Washington for a
private ceremony in which Catherine Etchberger accepted the Air Force
Cross on her husband's behalf. Though Catherine had long known the true
nature of her husband's mission, she kept silent until it was
declassified in 1982.
The chief had been nominated for the Medal of Honor soon after the
events at Site 85. But since he was not officially in the Air Force at
the time, and since Site 85 was in a neutral country, President Johnson
believed that the award could not be granted. Even long after the
mission was declassified, and pressure for honoring Chief Etchberger
grew, the existence of Site 85 was deemed too sensitive to highlight by
awarding him a Medal of Honor. But the long battle for recognition
slowly gained footing.
A 1998 book about the mission raised public awareness, and led to his
official inclusion on the Air Force's list of recipients. In 2005, his
home town of Hamburg in Pennsylvania held a parade in his honor, and
raised funds to construct a memorial. In 2006, Rep. Earl Pomeroy (D-ND),
working with a group of veterans from the 1st Combat Evaluation Group,
submitted an application to waive the two-year limit on nominations for
the Medal of Honor.
In 2008, Air Force Secretary Michael Donley approved the application. By
2010, lawmakers in Congress and the White House had also signed off,
thus clearing the way for Chief Etchberger to receive the nation's
highest military honor.
At the Hall of Heroes ceremony, one Airman was present who owed his life
to Chief Etchberger's actions: Staff Sgt. John Daniel. He survived to
have seven children, 13 grandchildren--one of which, Senior Airman Jerry
Daniel Jr., serves as an F-22 maintainer at Langley AFB. Sergeant
Daniel would finish a full career and retire from the Air Force in 1979
to go on to become a successful business owner. He is now 71
and continues to enjoy the days that Chief Etchberger's actions made
possible. Three others led long and full lives, Capt. Stanley Sliz,
Staff Sgt. Bill Husband and Staff Sgt. Jack Starling. They would survive
the day, and go on to live full lives with family, friends, and
careers. Captain Sliz and Sergeant Daniel shared that harrowing night
on the ridge of the cliff at Lima 85 with Chief Etchberger, as well as
Ken Wood, Rusty Irons, Rus Cayler and Joe Panza.
His citation reads in part: Despite having received little or no combat
training, Chief Etchberger single-handedly held off the enemy with an
M-16, while simultaneously directing air strikes into the area and
calling for air rescue. Because of his fierce defense and heroic and
selfless actions, he was able to deny the enemy access to his position
and save the lives of his remaining crew. With the arrival of the rescue
aircraft, Chief Etchberger, without hesitation, repeatedly and
deliberately risked his own life, exposing himself to heavy enemy fire
in order to place three surviving wounded comrades into rescue slings
hanging from the hovering helicopter waiting to airlift them to safety.
A number of Air Force bases have streets, buildings, and a memorial
named after Chief Etchberger. As Air Force Secretary MIchael Donley said
during the induction ceremony, "Once lost beneath impenetrable layers
of security, the story of Lima Site 85, and Dick Etchberger's example of
integrity, service, and excellence - of gallantry and intrepidity above
and beyond the call of duty - is assured of its future."