Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: FRIDAY, November 11, 1994                   TAG: 9411160053
SECTION: EDITORIAL                    PAGE: A15   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: FRANK LONGAKER
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Medium

BEEN TO LAOS?

The voice on the other end of the telephone was like a jolt of caffeine as I sat behind my desk that morning.

He repeated the question.

Flashbacks from the past began hazily forming.

"Who is this?" I asked, caution in my tone to belie the edge of recognition.

He replied with similar caution born of experience and training.

"Aren't you Frank Longaker?"

Yes.

"This is Jan Brady. Sergeant Brady."

Lightning-speed recognition clogged my throat momentarily. Watch it, Frank! Showing emotion was not an accepted form of behavior in those days. And never in Special Forces - known to civilians as The Green Berets. Any sign of such "weakness" would quickly be exploited by one's cohorts.

And Jan knew the rules, too.

As we got reacquainted, our feelings were mutually masked by rapid-fire banter about common experiences and friends.

In the late '60s, we had served together in a unit called MACSOG in Vietnam. Our jobs involved regular forays along the Ho Chi Minh Trail into Cambodia and Laos from our base in Kontum, Vietnam.

"Trail" is a misnomer. The North Vietnamese Army had a well-maintained and well-hidden system of roads and paths throughout the jungle that they used to maintain their offensives in the South. They were strong foes. A road-mileage marker handpainted on jagged aluminum resting in my den attests to the thoroughness of the enemy's organization.

We were young, bold, and often scared. Badges of rank were less important than loyalty, capability and professionalism. The nature of the majority of the missions - usually three Americans and 15 to 20 tough native montagnard (mountain people) soldiers demanded trust and confidence in your fellow countryman.

After that experience we went separate ways and had not seen or heard from one another.

He stayed in the Army, served in other Special Forces outfits and training units. He got married, now has a teen-age daughter. Retired as a sergeant first class. Lives in Morristown, Tenn.

I got out of the military, went on to college, work, family, etc. Contact with all the guys I knew had evaporated.

In that morning call, we talked for an hour. That's the longest I've talked about "stuff" on the phone since I was a teen-ager. All the memories flowed. Different combat missions, being napalmed (now it's called "friendly fire"), Capt. Goulet, the officer from Canada who was killed, Sgt. Savage (that really was his name), old man Bob who had served in World War II, the food. And on and on.

Later, when he planned a weekend trip to see relatives in Charlottesville, we arranged a Saturday meeting at my home in Troutville. Our families met, we shared pictures we had both taken from that period, and we took new ones of each other and our families. He said I looked the same, and he did too - to me. But the old pictures told a different story.

Like all veterans who meet again, we told war stories. His father, an ex-Marine who served in Korea, said it sounded like the same stories he had heard so many times with his buddies. The places and names and wars were the only difference.

We parted, and promised to stay in contact. We may.

Jan is like veterans all over the country. He's living on a hill in Tennessee. Others may be on the plains of Oklahoma. Or the suburbs of Chicago. Or the beaches of Florida. Or in any of the other 46 states.

They've been in wars from Europe to the Middle East, the Far East, South America, the Pacific, and all points in between. They are old Marines and young airmen. They are sailors in white and soldiers in green. They're married or alone. Many are men, some are women. They're in VA hospitals. Or missing in action.

Veterans Day is the one time of the year for us to remember Jan, and his father, and those that have gone before them, and after them. We're here because they served when called.

Frank Longaker of Troutville served as a lieutenant and captain with the 5th Special Forces Group in Vietnam. He is president of National Business College in Salem.