On a lonely hill in Laos where he was on a highly classified CIA and Air Force mission, Chief Master Sgt. Richard Etchberger fought against overwhelming odds to save his crew and sacrificed his life to save others. For his actions, even though he had to officially separate from the Air Force to undertake the mission, he was awarded the Air Force Cross. For years a ground swell of supporters had petitioned his name for the nation's highest military honor, the Medal of Honor. However, the mission was deemed too sensitive. A series of events led to Chief Etchberger's nomination to reach Congress. On Sept. 21, 2010, President Barack Obama presented the award 42 years later to his sons at the White House. Since the founding of the Air Force in 1947, there have been only 18 Airmen to receive the Medal of Honor. Chief Etchberger is the first combat support Airmen.
He grew up in Hamburg, Penn. Friends and former teachers recall him as a friendly and popular student, who played basketball, participated in club activities, and became president of his class. He enjoyed camping on the slopes of the nearby Blue Mountain.
He joined the Air Force in 1951. When a head injury from high school sports prevented him from becoming a pilot, he became a specialist in radio and radar maintenance. Known as Etch to his friends, he met his wife, Catherine, at a Salt Lake City restaurant while stationed at Hill Air Force Base, Utah. And when they married in 1956, Staff Sgt. Etchberger became a husband and a father to an 8-year-old Steven. Over the next three years, sons Richard and Cory would be born as the family moved from Utah to Morocco to New York. As his family grew, his career was also progressing; and his potential as an Airman and leader became more and more apparent to his supervisors.
In 1967, Etchberger and his wife were flown to Washington, where they were both sworn to secrecy about his next assignment: He was to become one of some 40 Airmen tasked to operate covert radar installations in Laos. By the time he was selected for this dangerous mission, Chief Etchberger was among the most highly trained radar technicians in the Air Force. He was deeply experienced, and at 34 not a very young man. Since the American military did not officially operate in neutral Laos, the 17-year veteran and the other technicians had to leave the Air Force and become civilian employees of Lockheed Aircraft Services, which as a private company was allowed to operate in Laos. This was a process called "sheep dipping" where they were released from the Air Force and hired by Lockheed to avoid giving the perception that Laos was involved in the war with the U.S. government. The program became known as Heavy Green, and when their mission was over, they would be welcomed back into the U.S. Air Force.
The team of 19 were sent to a small landing strip and radar site on a remote mountain in Laos called Lima Site 85 from November 1967 to March 1968. They protected only by the cliffs of their mile-high mountain site. During this time, they directed 507 strike missions in North Vietnam and Laos - 27 percent of all such missions in these areas. The strikes attracted the attention of the North Vietnamese military. The first North Vietnamese attack on the site came on Jan. 12, 1968. Two Russian-built biplanes made three bombing passes. While they unfortunately killed two local civilians and two guerrilla fighters, the North Vietnamese aggressors failed to cause any significant damage to the radar site.
After moving men and equipment into the area for months, the North Vietnamese Army began their attack with a sustained artillery barrage on the night of March 10, 1968. Mortar, artillery and rocket rounds began falling about 6 p.m., and lasted almost two hours. Because their quarters were vulnerable to shelling, the Chief and his off-duty radar team took their sleeping bags weapons and survival radios and spent the night on a cliffside ledge partially protected by a rocky overhang to avoid incoming rounds. At 3 a.m., commandos scaled the cliffs and assaulted the compound, killing 11 of the 19 Americans working at the site.
Soon, the North Vietnamese commandos discovered the radar team's hiding place and began shooting down the mountainside with automatic weapons and lobbing hand grenades over the slope. Two of the Americans on the ledge, Tech. Sgt. Monk Springsteadah and Staff Sgt. Hank Gish, were killed. Two more were seriously wounded -- Capt. Stan Sliz and Staff Sgt. John Daniel. Remarkably, the Chief was uninjured in the attack. Using only his M-16 and a survival radio to call in airstrikes, he fought off the attackers for several hours.
A CIA Air America helicopter crew, including pilot Ken Wood and flight mechanic Rusty Irons, heard the radio's beacon call for help and rushed to the site. When the helicopter arrived at 7:35 a.m., the Chief repeatedly exposed himself to enemy fire in order to place his wounded comrades in rescue slings to be hoisted one-by-one to safety. Chief Etchberger had placed two comrades in the helicopter's rescue sling before bear-hugging one more into the sling -- Staff Sgt. Bill Husband, hiding in a different area on the site, ran toward the helicopter and joined the chief on the hoist. But as the helicopter lifted off, it was stuck with a barrage of armor-piercing fire. One bullet pierced the underbelly, and struck him. He bled to death before the rescue craft could reach the hospital. In a sad twist of fate, his daughter Traci was born the same day that he died.
As Sergeant Husband ran past Staff Sgt. Jack Starling, who was wounded and playing dead, Sergeant Starling yelled for him to tell the rescue crew that he was still alive. A Jolly Green Giant crew successfully rescued Sergeant Starling at 9:46 a.m. The crew included: pilot, Capt. Rus Cayler; co-pilot, Capt. Joe Panza, and pararescueman, Sgt. J.J. Rodgers.
Of the 19 Americans on the mountain, seven had been brought out alive making this one of the largest, single, ground combat losses in Air Force history.
For his heroic actions, Chief Etchberger was posthumously awarded the Air Force Cross although the details of his mission were kept secret for decades because the United States officially denied any offensive presence in Laos.
As his citation for the Air Force Cross describes: "The enemy was able to deliver sustained and withering fire directly upon this position from higher ground. His entire crew dead or wounded, Chief Etchberger continued to return the enemy's fire thus denying them access to the position. During this entire period, Chief Etchberger continued to direct air strikes and call for air rescue on his emergency radio, thereby enabling the air evacuation force to locate the surrounded friendly element. When air rescue arrived, Chief Etchberger deliberately exposed himself to enemy fire in order to place his three surviving wounded comrades in the rescuer slings permitting them to be airlifted to safety."
At first, Chief Etchberger's wife were told that he had died in a helicopter crash. The local newspaper in Hamburg, Penn., reported the same, with little further information. But the family suspected there was more to the story when the family was invited to Washington for a private ceremony in which Catherine Etchberger accepted the Air Force Cross on her husband's behalf. Though Catherine had long known the true nature of her husband's mission, she kept silent until it was declassified in 1982.
The chief had been nominated for the Medal of Honor soon after the events at Site 85. But since he was not officially in the Air Force at the time, and since Site 85 was in a neutral country, President Johnson believed that the award could not be granted. Even long after the mission was declassified, and pressure for honoring Chief Etchberger grew, the existence of Site 85 was deemed too sensitive to highlight by awarding him a Medal of Honor. But the long battle for recognition slowly gained footing.
A 1998 book about the mission raised public awareness, and led to his official inclusion on the Air Force's list of recipients. In 2005, his home town of Hamburg in Pennsylvania held a parade in his honor, and raised funds to construct a memorial. In 2006, Rep. Earl Pomeroy (D-ND), working with a group of veterans from the 1st Combat Evaluation Group, submitted an application to waive the two-year limit on nominations for the Medal of Honor.
In 2008, Air Force Secretary Michael Donley approved the application. By 2010, lawmakers in Congress and the White House had also signed off, thus clearing the way for Chief Etchberger to receive the nation's highest military honor.
At the Hall of Heroes ceremony, one Airman was present who owed his life to Chief Etchberger's actions: Staff Sgt. John Daniel. He survived to have seven children, 13 grandchildren--one of which, Senior Airman Jerry Daniel Jr., serves as an F-22 maintainer at Langley AFB. Sergeant Daniel would finish a full career and retire from the Air Force in 1979 to go on to become a successful business owner. He is now 71 and continues to enjoy the days that Chief Etchberger's actions made possible. Three others led long and full lives, Capt. Stanley Sliz, Staff Sgt. Bill Husband and Staff Sgt. Jack Starling. They would survive the day, and go on to live full lives with family, friends, and careers. Captain Sliz and Sergeant Daniel shared that harrowing night on the ridge of the cliff at Lima 85 with Chief Etchberger, as well as Ken Wood, Rusty Irons, Rus Cayler and Joe Panza.
His citation reads in part: Despite having received little or no combat training, Chief Etchberger single-handedly held off the enemy with an M-16, while simultaneously directing air strikes into the area and calling for air rescue. Because of his fierce defense and heroic and selfless actions, he was able to deny the enemy access to his position and save the lives of his remaining crew. With the arrival of the rescue aircraft, Chief Etchberger, without hesitation, repeatedly and deliberately risked his own life, exposing himself to heavy enemy fire in order to place three surviving wounded comrades into rescue slings hanging from the hovering helicopter waiting to airlift them to safety.
A number of Air Force bases have streets, buildings, and a memorial named after Chief Etchberger. As Air Force Secretary MIchael Donley said during the induction ceremony, "Once lost beneath impenetrable layers of security, the story of Lima Site 85, and Dick Etchberger's example of integrity, service, and excellence - of gallantry and intrepidity above and beyond the call of duty - is assured of its future."
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