Legendary First Platoon, Bravo Company Medic, '68-'69, Harold (Doc) Peterson, vastly under sung
hero of the
realm, reputed by members of First Platoon to be the best medic in all the war, and a one man squad
who never slept, refused to give up the Starlite, particularly loved busting caps and saving
civilians,
carried half the surgical hospital plus enough extra ammo for another platoon on his back, was
renowned
for telling anyone off regardless of rank if one of his men needed care; WAS A CRACK SHOT WITH
A
.45, was bullet proof, walked on water, and became quite the nonprofit entrepreneur and Pied Piper
(Darth Vader style) of Binh Phuoc. Before his tour was over, Doc designed a contest for killing rats
that far exceeded the effectiveness of any plan the US Army had for ridding the country of
Communists, and launched the construction and facility of the base's sanitary Steam & Cream,
reducing
the incidence and costs of STD's among the men drastically. For the past year, 1998-1999, Doc has
spearheaded the search for all of us in Bravo, causing an explosion of successfully located brother
Panthers. First he wrote letters by hand, countless letters, addressed the envelopes,
stamped, and mailed them out, repeatedly, then he went on line, largely with the support of
John
Spizzirri and others, who seeing him work into the night and all through his weekends, after he
would
get home from his two jobs and fulfill his responsibilities as caretaker of a children's camp on
weekends, felt he could accomplish his goal of seeing every one of us who ever served in the 2/ 47
during all its time in Nam reunited better if he had a computer to use. Of course now we have to
put
up with him trying to get all of us to keep up with him, but this is a small price to pay to see our
friend
happy. Thank you, Doc, we are truly blessed to have been assigned to your Company; your Platoon. Yours always.
The Management, Staff, Denizens, and Inmates at Hotel Bravo.
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Just before Dudley was drafted, he had just gotten married and he and his bride had a puppy that was half collie and half shepherd, that liked to drink beer with them and eat popcorn when they watched TV, then chase pop corn kernels arnound on the waxed floor by running with her hind feet while corraling the kernel with her two front feet pushed out in front of her and her nose on the popcorn, running into anything that got in her way, backing up only to get another good run, then charging off again with her kernel between her feet. Is this a somekind of metaphor for us in the Nam?
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