When my husband’s 1^st Cav unit deployed to Vietnam in August of 1965, I moved north with my two-year-old son from Ft. Benning, GA, to stay with my family in Pennsylvania and New Jersey. I was not prepared for what was to come within a few months.

In 1965, TV news was sparse, and the war in Vietnam was only mentioned briefly in hometown newspapers. As a wife living far away from any military community, I tried to learn as much as I could each day, but there wasn’t much reported.

In November 1965, I was involved in a household renovation project, and went a few days without reading the papers or watching the news on TV. I was surprised when friends and family members began to arrive at my door bearing condolences. Their faces fell when they realized, to their horror, that I didn’t know about the big battle involving my husband’s unit, the 1^st Battalion 7^th Cavalry, in the Ia Drang Valley, which had blanketed the news for days.

Since this was early in the war, and the Ia Drang was the first large-scale battle, no system for notifying next of kin about casualties had been put in place. Telegrams informing wives that their husbands had been killed often arrived by taxi drivers. Others, like me, learned it from the news.

I dug through newspapers from the previous days and tried to catch up on what was going on.  The New York Times had reported that the 1^st of the 7^th had been in a fierce battle and that its “C” Company had been practically wiped out.  All the officers of the company were said to be casualties. No names.  No details.  My husband was company commander of “C” Company.

After digesting this awful news, we waited for the inevitable. My relatives and I assumed that if Bob was dead, we would be contacted to meet the body when it arrived in the U.S.  There was no way for us to contact the military for more information. We waited a full week, and figured we ought to begin making preliminary funeral plans.

When the phone call finally came, the Red Cross worker asked if I was the wife of Captain Robert Edwards.  I said I was.  She explained that a plane had just landed at Travis Air Force Base in California, with casualties from the Ia Drang battle; my husband was on that plane.  I swallowed hard.  I didn’t know what else to say.  I waited for her to tell me how to make arrangements to take custody of his body. Then she asked:

“Well, do you want to talk to him?”

Stunned to learn that he was alive, I was overcome with worry, disbelief, and relief all at once.  I got on the line and Bob and I talked very briefly. His only comment was that he had “caught a bullet in his shoulder.” It was actually much worse than that, but he didn’t let on.

The Red Cross woman informed me that the plane would be landing again that evening, at McGuire Air Force Base in New Jersey, which was near where we were living.  She said I could go there and board the plane for a few minutes and see my husband, but it would be leaving again soon after for Walter Reed Army Hospital in Washington.

When I arrived at the landing field that night (the same field I had left from several years before to travel to Germany as a Department of Defense schoolteacher), there were no guards or anyone else to direct me.  Finally, I saw a large medevac plane on the tarmac with its tailgate down. An airman said I could go on board and find my husband if I wanted to. There was nothing at all formal.

The plane had tiers and tiers of stretchers with soldiers with all manner of wounds, most of them wrapped up like mummies. It was hard to see in the dark, so I had to search each cot, looking into the face of each wounded man while calling my husband’s name.

Finally, I heard a voice from the far end of the plane call out, “Up here.” Needless to say, I was relieved, but still unaware of the severity of his wounds or his overall condition. We had a very short conversation before I had to deplane. The following day I was able to go to the hospital where he would be staying and visit for a longer time.

Bob spent 5–to–6 months in Valley Forge Hospital, recovering from his injuries. In 1969 he returned to Vietnam as G–3 advisor for RF/PF forces in II Corps (the same area that the 1st Cav Division operated in on his first tour).