WEST MILFORD — When he stepped off the plane on Dec. 12, 1967, he thought at first that he was caught in a wash of hot air from the jet's engines. He wasn't. This was the climate. This was Vietnam and he was part of the largest air lift in the Vietnam War.
When West Milford resident pat Mastrincola spoke about the war his dialog was frank and the stories sometimes brutal. But he is accepting of the battles he fought and reiterated his honor-bound duty to the United States Army and to his country.
Mastrincola, 65, was already a practiced survivor by the time he went to war. In 1956 when he was nine years old, he and his family narrowly escaped from the sinking ocean liner Andrea Doria when it collided with the SS Stockholm.
His experience at sea deterred him from joining the Navy but at age 19 he enlisted in the Army. He had been a daring boy and now was a daring young man who wanted to be a paratrooper. In 1966 he began his training and learned to jump with the 82nd Airborne Division. He later served with the 101st Airborne, as well.
"The first jump was the easiest, you didn't know what you were getting into," he said.
His third jump was not so easy; he and his fellow paratroopers went into free-fall when their chutes failed to open. The absence of a wind deflector on the airplane's door was the cause of the parachutes' malfunctioning but Mastrincola was lucky and his chute finally deployed "like a twisted towel" and he landed in sand.
Going to war
In March 1965, American troops entered Vietnam and by 1968 there were 540,000 troops in the country. United States involvement continued until a 1973 cease fire. Between 1965 and 1973 there were 58,151 deaths, 153,303 wounded and there are still many missing in action.
Base camp, Phouc Vinh, Vietnam
Mastrincola had read about Vietnam before arriving in country and was expecting the enemy to be "pure evil and fanatical" but when a female civilian base employee was beheaded by the Viet Cong - and her had mounted on a pole - it brought the depth of evil to the forefront. It also further inflamed the animosity of the troops.
"Once they did that, they found the 101st Air Borne was nothing to play with," he said.
Living in tin-roofed "chicken coops" afforded little protection from enemy fire. "We had to sand bag our bunks. It was a bunker within a bunker," he said. When the shelling got too close, it was time to hunt down the Viet Cong.
Mastrincola's unit was an all-volunteer, highly trained unit whose single-minded mission was straightforward - obliterate the enemy. Their warrior reputation was such that the Viet Cong main forces tried to avoid them. "We were mean and rotten."
Eye in the sky
Mastrincola's job now involved being in a plane rather than jumping from one. The plane was a Cessna Bird Dog, its size somewhere between a hang glider and a compact two-door car.
"You didn't sit in it, you wore it," he said.
He and the pilot flew 12-hour reconnaissance missions looking for artillery, troops and bunkers, radioing their information back to base. They flew low and slow and had to land often to put oil in the old Bird Dog.
"It looked dilapidated and worn out and was obsolete in 1952. You wondered which was more dangerous, the enemy of being in that contraption," he said.
Mastrincola described the Bird Dog pilots as the bravest men he ever met. While they routinely sustained enemy fire he told of his closest encounter coming from a church located at the end of their runway - its steeple a perfect spot for a sniper.
"It was so close you could see the brass cartridges coming out of the gun. But he never hit the plane. He was the world's worst shot."
War changes you
Mastrincola spoke of the mind-set of the soldiers as they dealt with the enemy and fought the VietCong who were well experienced in guerilla warfare.
"You can't imagine the inhumanity between enemies. We hated them, they hated us. Once you get into a combat situation it comes to you. There's the fear factor; you get them before they get you.
After what seemed like a lifetime of aerial reconnaissance, fierce ground fighting and traversing Vietnam three times Mastrincola came home. It was Nov. 1968. He weighed just 104 pounds, his teeth had deteriorated, he had peculiar lumps along his jugular vein and his face was "two-toned." He had survived Vietnam, received a Bronze Star and an Army Commendation medal yet another painful experience lay ahead - on American soil.
"You thought you were a hero, fighting to defeat Communism, but you weren't," he said. Rather he felt used and hurt. "There was verbal abuse, indifference and no signs of appreciation for what you had done. Vietnam was one thing, coming home was something else."
Mastrincola believes that the Vietnam War was lost politically and sees a parallel with the wars being fought today.
He said he served with the finest soldiers this country had to offer and he hopes that all Vietnam veterans will always be proud of their service.
"We did our jobs to the best of our ability and that's all we could do. I'm not ashamed. I'm proud that I served with the best - win, lose or draw."
As with most war stories, Mastrincola's saga could fill a book. It would be a story of grit and combat, bravery and sacrifice.
Is it ever too late to say thank you to our veterans?
What are your thoughts this Veterans Day? Go to westmilfordmessenger.com and let us know.