“We had 76 wounded and 33 killed that night,” Aspholm said.

Aspholm said his company was at the mountaintop base for a rest when they were singled out by the enemy.

“We were on top of a mountain, and in the 30 days prior to that, my company had the highest body count in all of Vietnam, of all the companies. And the NVA knew that was us,” he said, referring to the North Vietnamese Army. “So they waited. We had three days where we just sat up on the mountain and rested. And they hit us. Pretty much took the whole company.

“Time Magazine came up and interviewed whatever guys were left.”

-Submitted photo
Al Aspholm, center, is seen here at 20 years old when he served in the infantry in North Vietnam. The man next to him was a radio operator, and Aspholm said he knew him pretty well until he lost his leg in a booby trap and was sent home.

Now living in Manson, Aspholm was drafted into the U.S. Army in 1969. He trained at Fort Lewis, Washington, before deploying to the northern part of South Vietnam in August of 1970.

“I was in the infantry, carried all kinds of weapons,” he said. “They stationed me in the northern part of Vietnam, and I did my 12 months. That was a normal tour. Then they offered me — everybody got the deal. If you would extend, I had to stay an extra 31 days, after that you didn’t have to serve any when you got back.”

Fire Base Mary Ann has been featured in Time and other publications, including a 2011 edition of the VFW magazine, which ran a story called “Sixty Minutes of Terror.”

Mary Ann’s purpose was to provide a protective shield for Da Nang and other coastal hamlets, according to the VFW magazine. It was erected on top of a ridge with two peaks and a “saddle” in between. There were 231 Americans and 21 South Vietnamese soldiers stationed there on that night.

“But on this fog-shrouded evening, 50 VC sappers, their bodies covered with charcoal and grease to make them more difficult targets in the darkness, quietly slipped through Mary Ann’s perimeter,” the story read. “Crouching low in three- to six-man teams, they made their way through the base’s unsuspecting defenders.”

As mortars battered one side of the base, the sappers infiltrated with explosives and tear gas.

“When artillery started hitting that night,” Aspholm said, “my rifle, it was gone. So I didn’t have any way to shoot back.

“I just ran down, and we had a trench about this deep. I just laid down in it. Somehow they went right by me.”

Aspholm made it through without injuries.

“There weren’t very many of us who did,” he said. “I’m not a hero or anything for that.”

When he arrived in Vietnam, it was scary, he said; but that feeling was quickly stifled.

“It only took about a week. The first time you get shot at, you know,” he said. “Then you’re just numb after that.”

One thing did stick with him, even 50 years after his service. Aspholm said he learned 14 months ago that he has leukemia.

“They’ve attributed that to Agent Orange,” he said. “Due to my service in Vietnam.

“They sprayed it on the jungle. It was a defoliant. It would flatten everything in about 24 hours. We got sprayed on, but even not direct spraying — we’d have to walk through later to count the bodies. And we’d kick that stuff up.

“I’ve done chemo; I’m still doing chemo pills. It is a long process.”

When he arrived back in America, Aspholm landed in Minneapolis.

“I didn’t come home with no dress clothes. I got called out of the jungle; I still had my dirty fatigues on with dirt from Vietnam,” he said. “And walking through the Minneapolis airport, really tan, people look, pointing at me — there’s one of those guys.

“I’m one of ‘those guys.’

“It doesn’t bother me now. It kind of hurt me at the time. But I just accept it.”

The Army wanted to honor Aspholm, but he said he didn’t want that either.

“I was awarded three medals; turned them all down,” he said. “I didn’t want their medals. I wanted to get out of there. That was their way of saying ‘We recognize what you did.’ I don’t.”

Aspholm said he was given an Article 15, a non-judicial punishment, for not taking the medals.

“That cost me $15,” he said. “That’s the way the Army was. I made $87, plus $60 combat pay. That’s $147 a month.”

When he returned home, Aspholm found he didn’t want to be around people.

“I couldn’t even go into a WalMart. I’m just — you know. Looking,” he said. “It probably took five years for me to straighten that out.”

After he got back, Aspholm worked all over the country — in construction, and running heavy equipment, and driving semis.

In Vietnam, friendships were hard-earned.

“Because you’re new there, and nobody will associate with you. Until you’re there three months or better, you’re just on your own. Then you make the friendships,” he said.

But that camaraderie, the friends he made, are the most positive memory Aspholm has from his service.

“The Army basically taught me discipline,” he said.