The flashback haunts his memory as a knot from his stomach slowly creeps up and stiffens in his throat. “It’s my most vivid image,” he said, pausing to capture the bottled emotions, only to release his most painful recollection. “He was killed coming out of my hooch.”
Robert “Bob” Anckaitis knew Buffalo Bills football star Richard Robert Kalsu, much better than Kalsu’s average fan. Anckaitis and Kalsu were both lieutenants who served in the same artillery unit, and slept in the same living space in the Vietnam War. The effort exerted in creating a living space, or “hooch” is endless; it requires a team of soldiers who can combine each others strengths and weaknesses to form a team bond strong enough to endure in war. After digging cavernous holes in the ground and forming a dome-shaped roof of heavy sandbags to protect the “hooch” from armed fire, this small space is the only place for soldier’s to call “home.” Anckaitis peered outside of his living space one afternoon only to witness his good friend, Kalsu, be shot and killed by the North Vietnamese soldiers. The same “hooch” that had originally bonded them together, had now torn them apart.
Moments like this were frequent for the 13-year war veteran, although Anckaitis states gratefully that he had never been injured throughout his service. “I’ve been shot at many times, but never hit.”
Anckaitis doesn’t look like the stereotypically firm, poker-faced war veteran; his soft red sweater, his matching crisp collared shirt, and his neatly combed, side-parted brown hair emanates the image of an altruistic father dressed for a Christmas dinner. But, his voice sings the song of the sorrows he has seen.
In 1961, South Vietnam signed a military and economic aid treaty with the United States to fight Communist forces from North Vietnam and the country’s own communist insurgents, the Viet Cong. This began the United States’ involvement in the war, which proceeded until 1973, when a peace agreement was signed between the United States, North Vietnam, South Vietnam, and the National Liberation Front’s provisional revolutionary government. The accord provided for the end of hostilities, the withdrawal of U.S. and allied troops, the return of prisoners of war, and the formation of a four-nation international control commission to ensure peace.
Anckaitis began his military training in the R.O.T.C. program at Lafayette College in Easton, Pa., where he strived to become a commissioned officer upon being drafted and served on active duty in 1969. Just one month after enlisting, he married his wife, Kathy. His entrance into service as an officer proved that he had the desire for responsibilities and a devotion to the United States. “I took an oath that I would obey the orders over me, and I got orders to go to Vietnam,” said Anckaitis when asked about his pre-war jitters. “It was my duty.”
After a three-month artillery training program in Oklahoma, Anckaitis was sent to Vietnam as a lieutenant of artillery. He will always remember that day, the same day that his daughter, Kimberly, turned one day old. Anckaitis would soon return from Vietnam just one year later, the same day as Kimberly’s first birthday.
Vietnam was an immediate culture shock to Anckaitis. Stationed in I-Corps, the most northern zone of South Vietnam, closest to the enemy, Anckaitis recalls the unfamiliar jungles. Along with aiding in the artillery unit, he was involved in air-assaults, where helicopters attacked the Northern forces by shooting from above. His Vietnam duty ended after 12 months of service, but that did not stop Anckaitis from moving his way up in the military rank.
Anckaitis came home from Vietnam in 1972 and traveled with his family to Fort Dix, N.J., where he enrolled in a 10-month advanced course for artillery officers. His second child, Todd, was born and his third was soon to be on the way.
In 1975, Anckaitis was sent to Korea, where he was stationed in the DMZ, a neutral area where neither side could fight. A smile inched up his face as he recalled the memorable Koreans he had met. “I got to see them farming the rice paddies and watched the women hunched-over, carrying whey on their backs, wearing those funny triangle hats,” Anckaitis laughed. It was times like these, Anckaitis said, that gave him a more understanding, appreciative outlook of the world.
Along with the good times he shared in Korea, Anckaitis still had to train very hard in Korea’s extremely hot and cold mountainous terrain. He watched dramatic images on television showing the constant fatalities of soldiers’ last days of fighting in Vietnam, while achieving nothing. That war was over, and the U.S. soldiers returned home, defeated by the communists.
Anckaitis returned to the United States once again in 1976 and met his wife and three children in Houston, Texas, where he was in charge of a recruiting unit resulting from the all-volunteer military. His wife was pleased with his arrival, although she always encouraged and supported his overseas duties. Anckaitis spent 42 months with his family, traveling to Oklahoma and Indiana for different military schoolings.
Anckaitis enjoyed spending time with his three children, teaching them the fundamental skills necessary for succeeding in school, such as good study habits. The family’s German shepard brought a separate sense of fulfillment to his life, a similar fulfillment that he carried out while overseas with his adopted mutt, Bashful.
In 1982, Anckaitis was sent to Wertheim, Germany with his family to hold the position as a major in the executive office. By the sound in his voice alone, Germany was the best thing that ever happened to his family. “What did we think of Germany? We loved it!” he said enthusiastically. The Anckaitis family experienced ample time together, traveling across Europe to taste the culture of each country. As a family, they signed the Berlin Wall, skied in Austria, and shopped in Italy.
While in London attempting to ride the famous red, double-decker tour bus, a mishap occurred that almost caused the Anckaitis family to be lost from one another in the midsts of the unfamiliar city. Anckaitis jumped on the tour bus first, ready to grab hold of his youngest daughter, Christine, who was supposed to be second to get on the bus. Suddenly, the bus started to drive away with Anckaitis already aboard, leaving Christine behind with the rest of the family. Unsure of how they would ever meet up again, before the age of the cell phone, Anckaitis screamed through the crowded streets, “Don’t move! You stay there!” He got off the bus at the next stop, and returned safely to his family.
The Anckaitis family left Germany in 1984, but returned again in 1986. Anckaitis’ 15-hour days didn’t stop him and his family from venturing to neighboring countries, as they did years before. They returned to Fort Leavenworth, Kan., in 1988 and Anckaitis taught captains and staff leaders in the Combined Armed Services Staff School until 1992 when he retired.
After 13 years in the service, Anckaitis was ready to settle down with his family in Easton, his hometown, just in time to watch his youngest daughter graduate from the same high school he had graduated from years earlier, Easton Area High School.
Anckaitis then worked as manager for Lower Saucon Township for nearly six years. He now holds the position as township manager of Palmer Township, an offer he accepted in 1999.
Anckaitis places his large album filled with letters and photographs of his 13 years of service on the table. He pauses at the picture of him and his wife standing against a tree in Hawaii; the tree supports his weight as the pain of the war momentarily escapes his mind. He points out Bashful, the stray dog he adopted in Vietnam, and describes the “hooch” in the background. He opens a letter he had received from a friend while overseas, tracing his fingers along the colorful flowers drawn by the friend. “Look how beautiful it is,” he says, gazing at the vivid colors and detailed drawings in the letter. But, he flips past the photos of wounded soldiers, hoping to avoid the explanations. Anckaitis has experienced it all: the smell of scorching fire, the sight of raging warfare, the taste of a soldier’s blood, the sound of painful cries in the distance, and the touch of a dead friend. He hides these memories behind a face that rarely smiles, a face that only illuminates if you know him well enough to hit the spot. That “spot” can be easily deciphered after hearing the descriptions of his photos; the passion in his voice when he speaks about his family and friends is so warm-hearted, if you glance away from the pictures and look up his face, you can see a phenomenon. The smile that radiates from ear to ear communicates that this is the perfect kind of man to protect the country.
Lauren B. Shane is a senior at Lehigh University. Her hometown is Atlantic Beach, N.J.