President Barack Obama in a ceremony at the White
House on July 18, 2016 presents retired Army Lt. Col. Charles Kettles
with the Medal of Honor for his heroic actions during the Vietnam War.
Video by and courtesy of White House / DOD News Video edited by USA Patriotism!
Text of President Barack Obama's Remarks
THE PRESIDENT: Good morning, everybody. Please have a seat. Welcome to
the White House. Of all the privileges of this office, none is greater
than serving as the Commander-in-Chief of the finest military that the
world has ever known. And of all the military decorations that our
nation can bestow, we have none higher than the Medal of Honor.
As many who know him have said, nobody deserves it more than Charles
Kettles of Ypsilanti, Michigan. Many believe that –- except for Chuck.
(Laughter.) As he says, this “seems like a hell of a fuss over something
that happened 50 years ago.” (Laughter.)
Even now, all these
years later, Chuck is still defined by the humility that shaped him as a
soldier. At 86 years old, he still looks sharp as a tack in that
uniform. I pointed out he obviously has not gained any weight.
(Laughter.) And his life is as American as they come. He's the son of an
immigrant. His father signed up to fly for the United States the day
after Pearl Harbor and filled his five boys with a deep sense of duty to
their country. For a time, he even served in the Army Reserve -- for a
time, even as he served in the Army Reserve, Chuck ran a Ford dealership
with his brother. And to families who drove a new car off that lot, he's
the salesman who helped put an American icon in their driveway.
To the aviation students at Eastern Michigan University, Chuck is the
professor who taught them about the wonder of flight in the country that
invented it. To the constituents he served as a rare Republican in his
hometown's mostly Democratic city council, Chuck is the public servant
who made sure that their voices were heard. And to Ann, his beautiful
bride, who grew up literally as the girl next door, Chuck is a devoted
husband. Next March they will celebrate their 40th anniversary. So happy
early anniversary. (Applause.)
So in a lot of ways, Chuck
Kettles is America. And to the dozens of American soldiers that he saved
in Vietnam half a century ago, Chuck is the reason they lived and came
home and had children and grandchildren –- entire family trees made
possible by the actions of this one man.
We are honored to be
joined not only by Ann, but also eight of Chuck and Ann's 10 children,
and three of their grandchildren. It's the Kettles family reunion here
in the White House. (Laughter.) We're also honored to be joined by
Chuck's brothers-in-arms from Vietnam and some of Chuck's newest
comrades, members of the Medal of Honor Society.
May 15, 1967,
started as a hot Monday morning. Soldiers from the 101st Airborne were
battling hundreds of heavily armed North Vietnamese in a rural riverbed.
Our men were outnumbered. They needed support fast –- helicopters to get
the wounded out and bring more soldiers into the fight. Chuck Kettles
was a helo pilot. And just as he'd volunteered for active duty, on this
morning he volunteered his Hueys –- even though he knew the danger. They
called this place “Chump Valley” for a reason: Above the riverbed rose a
1,500-foot-tall hill, and the enemy was dug into an extensive series of
tunnels and bunkers -- the ideal spot for an ambush.
But Chuck
jumped into the cockpit and took off. Around 9 a.m., his company of
Hueys approached the landing zone and looked down. They should have seen
a stand of green trees; instead, they saw a solid wall of green enemy
tracers coming right at them. None of them had ever seen fire that
intense. Soldiers in the helos were hit and killed before they could
even leap off. But under withering fire, Chuck landed his chopper and
kept it there, exposed, so the wounded could get on and so that he could
fly them back to base.
A second time, Chuck went back into the
valley. He dropped off more soldiers and supplies, picked up more
wounded. Once more, machine-gun bullets and mortar rounds came screaming
after them. As he took off a second time, rounds pierced the arm and leg
of Chuck's door gunner, Roland Scheck. Chuck's Huey was hit. Fuel was
pouring out as he flew away. But Chuck had wounded men aboard and
decided to take his chances. He landed, found another helicopter, and
flew Roland to the field hospital.
By now it was near evening.
Back in the riverbed, 44 American soldiers were still pinned down. The
air was thick with gunpowder; it smelled of burning metal. And then they
heard a faint sound, and as the sun started to set, they saw something
rise over the horizon: six American helicopters -- as one of them said,
“as beautiful as could be.” For a third time, Chuck and his unit headed
into that hell on Earth. Death or injury was all but certain, a fellow
pilot said later, and “a lesser person would not return.” Once again,
the enemy unloaded everything they had on Chuck as he landed –- small
arms, automatic weapons, rocket-propelled grenades.
Soldiers ran
to the helicopters. When Chuck was told all were accounted for, he took
off. And then, midair, his radio told him something else: eight men had
not made it aboard. They had been providing cover for the others. Those
eight soldiers had run for the choppers, but could only watch as they
floated away. “We all figured we were done for,” they said. Chuck came
to the same conclusion. “If we left them for 10 minutes,” he said,
“they'd be POWs or dead.”
A soldier who was there said “that
day, Major Kettles became our John Wayne.” With all due respect to John
Wayne, he couldn't do what Chuck Kettles did. He broke off from
formation, took a steep, sharp, descending turn back toward the valley
-– this time with no aerial or artillery support -- a lone helicopter
heading back in. Chuck's Huey was the only target for the enemy to
attack –- and they did. Tracers lit up the sky once more. Chuck became
-- Chuck came in so hot that his chopper bounced for several hundred
feet before coming to a stop. As soon as he landed, a mortar round
shattered his windshield. Another hit the main rotor blade. Shrapnel
tore through the cockpit and Chuck's chair. And still, those eight
soldiers started to sprint to the Huey, running through the firestorm,
chased by bullets.
Chuck's helo, now badly damaged, was carrying
13 souls and was 600 pounds over limit. It felt, he said, like flying a
two-and-a-half-ton truck. (Laughter.) He couldn't hover long enough to
take off. But cool customer that he is, he says he saw his shattered
windshield and thought, “that's pretty good air conditioning.”
(Laughter.) The cabin filled with black smoke as Chuck hopped and
skipped the helo across the ground to pick up enough speed for takeoff
–- like a jackrabbit, he said, bouncing across the riverbed.
The
instant he got airborne, another mortar ripped into the tail, the Huey
fishtailed violently, and a soldier was thrown out of the helicopter,
hanging onto a skid as Chuck flew them to safety. I couldn't make this
up. (Laughter.) This is like a bad "Rambo" movie. (Laughter.) Right?
You're listening to this, you can't believe it.
So the Army's
warrior ethos is based on a simple principle: A soldier never leaves his
comrades behind. Chuck Kettles honored that creed –- not with a single
act of heroism, but over and over and over. And because of that heroism,
44 American soldiers made it out that day -- 44. We are honored today to
be joined by some of them: Chuck's door gunner who was hit, Roland
Scheck; the last soldier Chuck rescued that day, the one who figured he
was done for, Dewey Smith; and a number of soldiers, our Vietnam
veterans, who fought in that battle. Gentlemen, I would ask you to
either stand if you can, or wave, so that we can thank you for your
service. (Applause.)
Now, Chuck's heroism was recognized at the
time by the Army's second-highest award for gallantry -– the
Distinguished Service Cross. But Bill Vollano decided Chuck deserved an
upgrade. Bill is a retired social worker who went to Chuck's house to
interview him for a veterans history project sponsored by the local
Rotary Club. Ann overheard the interview from the other room and
reminded Chuck to tell Bill the story I've just told all of you. This is
something Chuck and I have in common -– we do what our wives tell us to
do. (Laughter.) Chuck told the story, and with his trademark humility,
finished it by saying it was “a piece of cake.” (Laughter.)
Bill, hearing the story, knew it was something more, and he started a
five-year mission, along with Chuck's son Mike, a retired Navy pilot, to
award Chuck the Medal of Honor. Bill and Mike are here, as is
Congresswoman Debbie Dingell who, along with her legendary husband, John
Dingell, went above and beyond to pass a law to make sure that even all
these years later, we could fully recognize Chuck Kettles' heroism, as
we do today. So we thank them for their outstanding efforts.
And
that's one more reason this story is quintessentially American: Looking
out for one another; the belief that nobody should be left behind. This
shouldn't just be a creed for our soldiers –- it should be a creed for
all of us. This is a country that's never finished in its mission to
improve, to do better, to learn from our history, to work to form a more
perfect union. And at a time when, let's face it, we've had a couple of
tough weeks, for us to remember the goodness and decency of the American
people, and the way that we can all look out for each other, even when
times are tough, even when the odds are against us -- what a wonderful
inspiration. What a great gift for us to be able to celebrate something
like this.
It might take time, but having failed to give our
veterans who fought in Vietnam the full measure of thanks and respect
that they had earned, we acknowledged that our failure to do so was a
shame. We resolve that it will never happen again. It can take time, but
old adversaries can find peace. Thanks to the leadership of so many
Vietnam vets who had the courage to rebuild ties, I was able to go to
Vietnam recently and see a people as enthusiastic about America as
probably any place in the world -– crowds lining the streets. And we
were able to say that, on a whole lot of issues, Vietnam and the United
States are now partners. Here at home, it might take time, but we have
to remember everyone on our team –- just like Chuck Kettles. Sometimes
we have to turn around, and head back, and help those who need a lift.
Chuck says the most gratifying part of this whole story is that
Dewey's name, and Roland's name, and the names of the 42 other Americans
he saved are not etched in the solemn, granite wall not far from here
that memorializes the fallen in the Vietnam War. Instead, it will be
Chuck Kettles' name forever etched on the walls that communities have
built from Southern California to South Carolina in honor of those who
have earned the Medal of Honor.
Of course, Chuck says all this
attention is “a lot of hubbub, but I'll survive.” (Laughter.) Chuck,
you've survived much worse than this ceremony. (Laughter.) And on behalf
of the American people, let me say that this hubbub is richly and
roundly deserved. As the military aide prepares to read the citation,
please join me in saluting this proud American soldier and veteran who
reminds us all of the true meaning of service –- Lieutenant Colonel
Chuck Kettles. (Applause.)
MILITARY AIDE: The President of the
United States of America, authorized by Act of Congress, March 3rd,
1863, has awarded, in the name of Congress, the Medal of Honor to Major
Charles S. Kettles, United States Army. Major Charles S. Kettles
distinguished himself by conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity while
serving as flight commander, 176th Aviation Company, (Airmobile)
(Light), 14th Combat Aviation Battalion, Americal Division near Duc Pho,
Republic of Vietnam.
On 15 May, 1967, Major Kettles, upon
learning that an airborne infantry unit had suffered casualties during
an intense firefight with the enemy, immediately volunteered to lead a
flight of six UH-1 Delta helicopters to carry reinforcements to the
embattled force and to evacuate wounded personnel. Enemy small arms,
automatic weapons, and mortar fire raked the landing zone, inflicting
heavy damage to the helicopters. However, Major Kettles refused to
depart until all helicopters were loaded to capacity.
He then
returned to the battlefield with full knowledge of the intense enemy
fire awaiting his arrival, to bring more reinforcements, landing in the
midst of enemy mortar and automatic weapons fire that seriously wounded
his gunner and severely damaged his aircraft. Upon departing, Major
Kettles was advised by another helicopter crew that he had fuel
streaming out of his aircraft. Despite the risk posed by the leaking
fuel, he nursed the damaged aircraft back to base.
Later that
day, the Infantry Battalion Commander requested immediate emergency
extraction of the remaining 40 troops, including four members of Major
Kettles' unit who were stranded when their helicopter was destroyed by
enemy fire. With only one flyable UH-1 helicopter remaining, Major
Kettles volunteered to return to the deadly landing zone for a third
time, leading a flight of six evacuation helicopters, five of which were
from the 161st Aviation Company.
During the extraction, Major
Kettles was informed by the last helicopter that all personnel were
onboard, and departed the landing zone accordingly. Army gunships,
supporting the evacuation, also departed the areas. Once airborne, Major
Kettles was advised that eight troops has been unable to reach the
evacuation helicopters due to the intense enemy fire. With complete
disregard for his own safety, Major Kettles passed the lead to another
helicopter and returned to the landing zone to rescue the remaining
troops. Without gunship, artillery, or tactical air support, the enemy
concentrated all firepower on his lone aircraft, which was immediately
damaged by a mortar round that shattered both front windshields and the
chin bubble, and was further raked by small arms and machine gun fire.
Despite the intense enemy fire, Major Kettles maintained control
of the aircraft and situation, allowing for the remaining eight soldiers
to board the aircraft. In spite of the severe damage to his helicopter,
Major Kettles once more skillfully guided his heavily damaged aircraft
to safety. Without his courageous actions and the superior flying
skills, the last group of soldier and his crew would never have made it
off the battle field.
Major Kettles' selfless act of repeated
valor and determination are in keeping with the highest traditions of
military service and reflect great credit upon himself and the United
States Army.
