What was the probability that, more than 8,000 miles from home, I would run into even one GI from Tonawanda? And when I did, it couldn’t have been more surprising. Read what happened.
By Paul A. Scipione
During the absolute peak of 543,000 American GIs in Vietnam in the summer of 1969, I found myself on a midnight flight from McGuire AFB, New Jersey to Bien Hoa AFB, 25 miles north of Saigon. There, 200 other “cherries” and I were packed into several buses (with wire mesh over the windows, for protection from grenades lobbed by our South Vietnamese “allies”) and driven 10 clicks over to the infamous 90th Repo Depot on Long Binh Post. The next day I was one of 15 GIs trucked back to Camp Ray, a dusty base on the Army side of the two giant 10,000 ft. runways at the big airbase. As was the custom in the 101st Airborne Division, cherries were given five days of in-country training (SERTS – Screaming Eagle Replacement Training School) to try to increase the odds that we would survive our year in Vietnam.
On the third day of training, we were taken out to several gun ranges, just behind the protective berm that surrounded the huge American airfield and base, to record fire the M-16 automatic rifle and M-60 machine gun. We had just finished sandwiches, apples, and orange-flavored bug juice for lunch and were sitting around, bullshitting about the training and speculating on where we would be assigned within the 101st . There were about a dozen of us and we exchanged information about our two hometowns back in ‘The World.’ A rough-looking guy surprised me by saying that his hometown was Tonawanda, New York. Tonawanda was less than 20 miles from my hometown of Lewiston, and my dad, Al Scipione was a guidance counselor and history teacher at Tonawanda High School.
“Did you go to Tonawanda High School?” I asked my fellow cherry (his name was something like Ken Williams). He answered, “yes.”
“Did you take the World History course at Tonawanda High School?”
“Yes, I did. Why?”
“Was your teacher Mr. Scipione?”
“Yes, he was. How could you know that?”
“Because Al Scipione is my father.”
PFC Williams suddenly stood up and walked across our circle of trainees and cold-cocked me right on the chin, knocking me flat on my back. Wow, that sucker punch hurt like hell! Several other guys jumped on Williams and held him in case I wanted to strike a retaliatory punch, but I waved them off.
“That son-of-a-bitch father of yours flunked me,” Williams hollered, “so I had to repeat it in summer school!”
After dinner chow that evening, I went back to my sleeping hooch and wrote a short letter to my parents. “Dear Dad, thanks a lot for flunking that stupid SOB! Too bad he didn’t shatter my jaw bad enough so I could get a medical discharge!”
For years I considered sending in this cautionary tale to the “Humor in Uniform” feature in the Readers’ Digest, but never got around to it. I checked the Official Directory of Americans killed in Vietnam, but didn’t find a “Ken Williams” from Tonawanda, New York. During the rest of SERTS training at Camp Ray, I covered up the “Scipione” nametag on my jungle fatigues. But what was the probability that, more than 8,000 miles from home, I would run into even one GI from Tonawanda?
About the Author
Dr. Scipione, a retired market research executive and college professor, is the author of ten books and several dozen feature articles and short stories. His latest book, A Nation of Numbers was published in 2015. He now writes from his home on Canandaigua Lake in New York’s Finger Lakes. His author website can be found at: http://www.nationofnumbers.com.
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CherriesWriter - Vietnam War website 
Interesting post! I think things like this happened to a lot of guyus. In my case, Iwas with the 557th MP Co. at long Binh and one of our duties was manning front gate guard for the 90th Replacement, checking vehnicles and personnel entering/leaving the 90th.
One night, I stopped a deuce and a half entering the post to check out those inside, and when I climbed inside the back and shined my flashlight around, making sue the occupants were all Americans. While doing this, I heard a voice from the group say, “Hey, Schembra.” Shining my light at the sound, a soldier stood up, and lo and behold, it was my drill sergeant, Sgt. First Class Francisco, from basic training at Fort Lewis several months earlier! Needless to say I was astounded that our paths had crossed in Vietnam, and, more so, that he recognized me and remembered my name!
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Gale Fechik
Same, same here. Somehow got a night of liberty in Saigon and while walking down Tu Do Street I bumped into a guy from the neighborhood. Joe Barrera from Beecher High School, Flint, Mi. We were different grades but I had dated his younger sister. Six degrees of separation is for real.
1st ANGLICO 7-71/12-71
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Similar situation. Locked in a warehouse overnight in Oakland, Ca and standing in line waiting for bus to take us to airport to go to Vietnam and they are calling out names. Two or three people near me, they call out the name (Mac) of a fraternity brother of one of my best friends from the small town in Pennsylvania where I grew up. I had known “Mac’s” name but I had never met him at Ft Polk during training. We get to the holding company in Vietnam and I get assigned to the 101st Airborne. The next day “Mac” shows up assigned to the same 1/501st Inf Battalion. We had been drafted the same day and both of us ended up in HHC, so we both extended 54 extra days to get out of the Army 150 days early when we returned. As Steven Wright said, “It’s a small world, but I wouldn’t want to paint it!”
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Good story. I have had some small world experiences and they are all special to me.
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After getting drafted in 68 and waiting on the bus to take us to Fort Bragg for basic, who should show up and to be drafted at the exact same time but a kid I grew up across the street from until I was about 14. Had not seen him in over five years. Ended up going through basic together at Bragg and then he went to the 101st in Nam and I went further south to the ninth division. We still laugh about it.
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/68…While waiting to board a jet to get back to the world I get a tap on my shoulders! Did’nt you work at$(*^#@!&? WOW! I was Going home and he was going on R&R. Some of the guys That we worked with really laughrd their cans off when I returned to work and told them them the story..
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