A Vet’s Story – David Binder
Vietnam still haunts sailor
Tall square stacks of small colored photographs, a black and white yearbook of his time at boot camp, and a frame filled with badges of honor and heroism fill the small dark green and brown office space in Allentown. Soft classical music plays on the radio. Empty massive bullet cases stand wobbling on the desk, representing the life and death reality of war. He walks slowly, with a friendly saunter. His blue tee shirt is embroidered with the name of his ship, the “USS HISSEM” in yellow thread. The blue shirt is tucked neatly into his Lee jeans indicative of the perfect hygiene and cleanliness that is a religion in the Navy.
He smiles as he stands next to his van the license plate in a multicolored stripped pattern reads “VIETNAM VET.” As he speaks his friendliness and warmth are obvious. He was popular and it is easy to see why. He is the kind of person that you instantly feel comfortable around.
David Binder was proud to have served his country for two full tours in Vietnam, nine months each time, from 1965-1967. If you ask him, he will tell you that he was not proud of some of the things that he saw and had to do in Vietnam.
Binder went to war in order to uphold patriotism, and support the country he loves. He is proud of the friendships that he made. He is proud of the progress of his troop at boot camp. He, like most people, is most proud that he could serve.
Unlike many others,
he came home alive, although his life was never the same.
Boot camp
Binder served in Vietnam after high school just as his father did, who served in World War II.
“It all starts with boot camp,” said Binder, “I told them I wouldn’t join unless I went to California.” Boot camp for the Navy is very different from the boot camp of the Army. Binder said that the training that Navy boot camp provided was all about learning to live in confined spaces, putting up with others’ idiosyncrasies and learning to work as a team.
“I was in boot camp,” Binder said, “when (President John F.) Kennedy was shot.” He was going to pick up his rifle at the time and just happened to hear the news about the president’s assassination on the radio.
“I knew what had happened, most didn’t,” he said. “That was life in the Navy.”
Very little combat training was involved in Binder’s stay in boot camp, where he learned the special language of the Navy. Part of serving in the Navy, according to Binder, is learning to develop an attitude of tolerance. Binder described the living arrangements of cots stacked three high and four across in four rows all in the space of a room the size of a small office.
“It’s geared to humble you,” said Binder, “everything you learn is preparation for the graduating parade.”
Navy training prepared Binder for many situations he would face in Vietnam but it did not prepare him for combat.
“I wasn’t allowed to shoot a rifle in boot camp because I couldn’t see the target in the rifle range. In Vietnam they gave me a gun.” Binder wasn’t mentally prepared for what holding a gun in a time of war would do to him mentally.
After ten years as a Boy Scout, Binder didn’t have much to learn that was new at boot camp. He new about leadership and had previously mastered many of the knots and procedures practiced at boot camp. All he had to learn were the ranks.
On Christmas in boot camp the sailors were allowed special privileges of peeling potatoes and onions all day instead of marching in formation.
Binder and his troop took on the challenge of a less intelligent Mike Muckleroy III who caused their troop to do lots of extra push-ups. In the end it strengthened them as a unit, by promoting unity and making them more efficient. “Everyone has value,” said Binder. He was very popular at boot camp. He was able to help teach his colleagues the knot formations and was a second class petty officer.
After boot camp Binder was assigned to electronics school on Treasure Island in San Francisco, a man made island in the middle of the bay that was built for the 1939 World’s Fair and converted into a Navy base. Binder received his diploma for electronics in December 1964.
From Jan. 3, 1965 to Nov. 4, 1967, Binder served on the USS HISSEM Destroyer Radar Picket Ship #400. They left from Rhode Island went through the Panama Canal, stopped in Hawaii and then headed to Vietnam. The 306 foot long grey top-heavy vessel is one the smaller Navy ships.
In early August 1965 Binder arrived at Vietnam. The ship had 165 people on it. The purpose of the ship was to perform Market Time Operations, according to Binder, which included coastal surveillance, shore bombardment, blockade and searching junks and other vessels. With a .50 caliber machine gun in hand Binder was assigned to hold people at gunpoint while the junks were being searched.
“I fired the first rounds less than one hour in station,” said Binder.
Binder displayed a large bullet casing. He points out how it is tarnished and unpolished. The two foot high casing was the type used in shore bombardment.
“I left it tarnished for a reason,” he said “because I am not really proud of anything we did over there.”
While serving in Vietnam Binder always kept a small woven flag with him. The small flag, seven inches by ten inches is worn and faded. The flag was there representing the reality that at any time life could be taken away from him.
“Just in case,” he said as he broke down a little, tears welling in his eyes, his voice broken and short from the reality having faced death at any time in combat.
As an electrical specialist, Binder was also responsible for fixing the ship’s numerous antennas, as well as the electrical and radar equipment.
Morale was low at Christmas time. In order to bring some holiday cheer and relief, Binder built a tree out of left over parts from around the ship. On Christmas morning, a special package that Binder picked from the masses of care packages sent to the ship emotionally impacted his life.
He randomly selected one bag from the piles of gifts sent by families for the sailors at sea. He took the bag from the stacks of boxes and headed outside for some privacy. He opened the bag and it was full of chocolate chip cookies and a small, hand- written note. It said, “We know you are there.” Those simple words had a huge impact on Binder and his life. It was a significant message.
“If anybody wonders ‘does it really matter?’ ” he said. “It does.” Being recognized in such a small but significant way made the hardship of war easier on that Christmas.
After several instances of almost losing his life, Binder was grateful for every day that he could watch the sun set and rise. They were his therapy.
“Some of the most beautiful sunsets I have ever seen were on the South China Sea,” said Binder. Whether they were beautiful because he was so glad to see another day, or simply because they really were so spectacular he will never know.
There was no training to prepare Binder for life after the war. On Nov. 17, 1969 David Bruce Binder was discharged from the Navy. “Reflections,” a picture of man leaning on the Vietnam War Memorial in Washington D.C., depicts a sad realization and memory for Binder. The man in the picture touches the memorial and sees the reflection of other soldiers who died at war.
“I have never been able to make it,” Binder said, “from one end of the wall to the other.” The picture normally hangs in Binder’s den. It was a gift from his daughter for Christmas one year. It has contributed to a healing process that has taken many years.
Out of his wallet in his back pocket he pulls out a card. “Disabled Vietnam Veteran” is written on the card. Binder commented on the effects that war has on people who served. He said it has an effect on everyone, just in different ways. Some people used drugs while in Vietnam; some people came back and are still scared to sleep at night.
The effects on Binder were psychological and lasting. Many men were affected some more than others. “It affects you whether you are in combat or not,” said Binder.
Last year, Binder attended the USS HISSEM reunion in Myrtle Beach. He was glad to reconnect with some of the men he served with. He is still healing from the war. One day at a time.
Stephanie Hazel Whitacre is a senior at Lehigh University. Her hometown is Seattle, Wash.