MIKE GIBBONS
HEROIC MEDIC.

Class of 1969
 

Written by  Dave Thornton

When Michael Gibbons came home from Vietnam in January of 1972, he joined the ranks of tens of thousands of unsung heroes ...of that unpopular war.
Even though he was born, raised and educated in Cambridge; even though he had been drafted and sent to fight for his country; even though he was a highly decorated US Army Medic; when this son of Leon and Marion Gibbons returned to his home in Cambridge, his service and achievements rated but a single line in the local newspaper, the Washington County Post.
It was a sign of the times, when a well-organized, extremely vocal minority sapped the Nation’s will to prevail in a terribly ugly conflict; while at the same time, making the already heavy burden of the American Soldier almost unbearable.
By now, just about everyone has come to realize that in Southeast Asia in the 1960s and 70s, the United States didn’t fail on the battlefield. It failed in the map rooms, the press rooms and the classrooms. It failed in college, in Congress and in the Pentagon.
And yet, despite the protests, the disruptions, and the outright consorting with the enemy, the American fighting man in Vietnam showed the same courage, grit and determination as the highly venerated soldiers of World War II.
Indeed, the war Michael Gibbons fought in Vietnam would do honor to any soldier in any of America’s great conflicts. In his year of “front line” service, his unselfish devotion to his fellow soldiers earned him the Bronze Star with Cluster, and the third most prestigious award that can be given for valorous service in the face of enemies of The United States---The Silver Star.
So on May 28, 2001, it was fitting that --- thirty years after Vietnam--- Michael Gibbons receive the honors and recognition in Cambridge that he should have had when he came home.
Former Spec 4 Michael Gibbons, medic in a “recon” team of the 1st Cavalry Division, US Army, rode at the head of the annual Memorial Day parade as the Grand Marshall.
Played Sports
Michael was known to be “gutsy” back in the ‘60s as he matriculated at Cambridge Central School. He played baseball. He played soccer back in the days when it was just being introduced as a new varsity sport. And he helped Milt Tesar introduce wrestling as another new varsity sport.
He expected that when he graduated in 1969,he would pursue a life in Cambridge as a carpenter.
But in those days, hanging over the head of every able-bodied male graduating from high school anywhere in the US was “the draft”, a lottery based upon birth dates that would decide who would fight and perhaps die in Vietnam, and who would stay home and be able to get on with their lives.
Michael recalled one particular “draft” party when he and his classmates awaited the next call. The number was “seven”. Everyone at the party escaped the call-up, except Michael.
But even then he had some alternatives. He could have joined the draft dodgers who ran away to Canada, or who enrolled in certain studies in college that brought a deferment. Or he could, like the famous boxer of that era, have declared himself a “conscientious objector”.
There were any number of ways he could have dodged his obligation to the Nation that had nurtured him. But he did none of those things.
He reported for basic military training at Fort Dix, New Jersey with two other local guys, Web Madison of Cambridge and Ernie Weir of Greenwich.
He didn’t ask to become a medic, but something on that infamous US Army
aptitude test suggested he would make a good one.
He went to Fort Sam Houston in Texas for medical training. And by January, 1971 he was on his way to Vietnam.
Made a Medic
He was assigned as medic to a six-man “recon team”, and spent most of the next year being helicoptered with his team into various hot-spots north of Saigon and over toward the Cambodian border.
It was Michael’s job to take care of the routine medical needs of the men. But more importantly, it was Michael who would minister to them if they fell in battle.
A canvass of combat infantrymen quickly brings out the special regard they have for medics. When a medic enters a bar where combat veterans are drinking, the medic’s money is no good; he doesn’t pay for his drinks.
Michael’s first two awards were not for his work as a medic, but for his work as a rifleman member of a highly trained “recon” squad, whose mission was to search out and destroy the enemy.
The first Bronze Star resulted from action with 2nd Btn., 8th Cav. on 20 Feb. 1971. The medal came “for heroism in connection with military operations against a hostile force¼ by exceptional valorous action”.
That is, Michael had deliberately exposed himself to intense hostile fire by moving forward to support his squad mates as they came under heavy fire from a cadre of North Vietnamese regulars.
Then in 28 June 1971, he received a second Bronze star, this with the Oak Leaf cluster.
The Star
But what is really special about Michael Gibbons is how he won his Silver Star. There have been perhaps as many as half a dozen soldiers in the entire history of Cambridge to be honored with The Silver Star. But not one of them did it in a manner more selfless than he.
Mike was awarded the Silver Star on March 5, 1971. This is how he earned it.
His squad had just been dropped off in the jungle for a “recon” patrol. They hadn’t gone a hundred yards when they ran into a complex of North Vietnamese bunkers. They came under intense fire from several positions.
One soldier in the squad would have made two of Mike. He was so huge they called him “Moose”. As “Moose” was firing on the enemy, an incoming round ricocheted off his M-16 rifle and struck Moose in the chest. It penetrated a lung. “Moose” was in desperate need of immediate help.
The fire fight raged on, around, over and through them. But when the cry of “medic!” rang out, Mike crawled forward toward the intensity of the fight.
At Fort Sam Houston, they taught fledgling medics the belt carry. It was sort of like a high school wrestling move. To move the giant, Mike had to get under him. He used a move that Coach Tezsr would have been proud of. Without getting another round into either of them, Mike positioned himself so that the huge “Moose” was on his back. With his belt, he lashed the two of them together. If “Moose” was to be lost, so would be Mike Gibbons.
Crawled Away
Then he crawled as low as he could away from the fight until he could dump “Moose” behind a protecting tree and treat his wound.
As soon as the enemy was suppressed, “Moose” was med-evaced out. Mike stayed
to perform yet another rescue that day, this of a Cambodian supporter, who did not survive his wounds.
Such is the nature of the war in Southeast Asia that Mike does not remember the real name of “Moose”, nor the names of any of the other soldiers he dragged from harms way and saved from death. He has never attended a unit reunion or sought to look up his mates of those dark days.
He just came home and went to work. Vietnam was an experience he wanted to put behind him. Indeed, the first time in 30 years he had looked at his military service records was when requested for this interview.
The only recognition he recalls was when his late father met the high school basketball coach. One day Coach Ed Donnelly walked up to Leon Gibbons and shook his hand. The Vietnam War was special for Coach Ed Donnelly. He had lost a son there.
On With Life
So Mike came home, and quietly got on with his delayed life. He went to work, got married and started raising kids. He and Robin live on Rte. 313 now, just inside the Village. They have two young sons, Logan, 8, and Bryant, 6.
Mike also has a grown daughter, Judith, who has made him a grandfather three times over.
Vietnam is a very special war for Americans. Thirty years after the last soldiers pulled out of Saigon it remains a plague on the collective conscience of the Nation. Protestors of that time feel guilty for the additional burden they laid on the backs of our soldiers. Others feel it because they came back whole and many thousands of others did not. Still others feel guilt because they, for some reason, couldn’t go to support their friends, their loved ones, their former students.
But say what you will about the way we waged that war, we never sent better soldiers into harms way than those who fought for us in Southeast Asia.
That is what the Legion was saying when it recently chose Michael Gibbons to lead other local Vets in the annual Memorial Day parade.
In a day devoted to honoring fallen comrades, there was room to honor a living soldier whose deeds of selfless heroism had gone too long unrecognized.

Mike Gibbons Obituary

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