Is That You, Bacsi?
The Story of Wilbur Donaldson

By Ray Davidson, syndicated columnist. He can be reached at  ray.davidson@usmc.mil.

Enterprise, AL.  Ernie Jensen, President of Chapter 59 of the Special Forces Association, upon hearing of the passing of Wilbur Donaldson on November 23rd in Enterprise, notified the chapter membership saying, "Another Hero Gone".

Donaldson, Buckshot as I knew him, grew up in Blountstown, Florida. He, like myself, was a Green Beret (SF'er). He was a hero nationally, as Cathie's husband, and to me (he is the brother of my Aunt Juanita in Macon, Georgia).

Buckshot was a SF medic and was proud of the name the Montagnard tribesmen gave him, BacsiDon, Doctor Don. Jensen, also a SF'er, describes the universal dedication of Green Beret medics, "My reasoning [for several tours in Vietnam] was due to compassion for the sick and injured and to improve a way of life they so richly deserved by preventative medicine and hygiene."

Buckshot, even though being a medic, would have usually been assigned to larger Hatchet Forces and indigenous clinics, instead he would volunteer to serve on small reconnaissance teams (RTs) where the causality rates often exceeded 80%. In the book SOG The Secret Wars of America’s Commandos in Vietnam, John L. Plaster, tells of RT Alaska and Buckshot’s role:

RT Alaska consisted of Master Sergeant Dick Warren, Sergeant First Class David Kauhaahaa, Sergeant First Class Wilbur Donaldson and six Nungs (Vietnamese of Chinese decent, a fierce warrior class). They were part of an operation code named Shinning Brass. Shinning Brass was a highly classified operation that required "sterile" missions over the fence (in Laos). Plaster states, "[sterile], meaning they wore no rank or insignia, and even their uniforms and rucksacks were Asian made and untraceable. They carried 9mm Swedish K submachine guns and Belgian-made Browning 9mm pistols, all of which, of course, had been acquired clandestinely so a serial-number check would lead nowhere."

Plaster goes on to describe RT Alaska's mission against a highway terminus just over the fence in Laos where large numbers of enemy congregated in sanctuary and stockpiled supplies. This operational objective was code named "Designated TargetA-1". A-1 had wide valleys covered with 6 to 8 foot tall elephant grass.

Quoting from Plaster's book, "On 2 November 1965 RT Alaska inserted into A-1 at dusk, but the enemy realized a team had landed. A stressful cat-and-mouse game followed, with RT Alaska silently bypassing and side slipping enemy patrols."

"For three days One-Zero Warren managed to by-pass or hide from the enemy, but by the fourth day there were so many enemy troops that contact was inevitable. It came in a short firefight in which Alaska bested the NVA, hitting several without any recon being hit. Then it was a foot chase."

"It was time for the team to be extracted, too many bad guys and the only alternatives were death or extraction. They headed to the highest hill, finding it covered by tall elephant grass they hunkered down while Buckshot contacted Covey (an unarmed Air Force single engine O-1 Bird Dog acting as a forward air controller (FAC) and "link" for the team)."

With Covey overhead Kauhaahaa suddenly realized the NVA had the elephant grass knoll surrounded but were not advancing. Plaster continues, "Then smoke drifted across Alaska's position, and they heard the crackling sound of burning grass. The NVA had set it afire to push them into the open." Alaska could not move, they faced execution by a hail of gun fire if they exposed themselves or death by smoke inhalation, or even worst, fire if they stayed.

"Then a pair of F-105s arrived and turned loose 20mm Vulcan cannons, but the NVA stood their ground, shooting at both the fighter and into the burning grass. Another set of fighters struck with bombs, but the NVA didn’t back off."

It looked as though Alaska was lost. At the last moment, when the team was literally choking on smoke, in flew Cowboy. Cowboy was a Vietnamese Air Force pilot who flew an obsolete H-34. These H-34's, called Kingbee's, were cavernous old helicopters that reeked of hydraulic fluid and oil. Plaster recalls the rescue, "Then a lone Kingbee roared right over the shooting NVA and into the burning grass, Cowboy at the throttle."

Kauhaahaa recalls, "In thirty seconds RT Alaska was away, not one man wounded, thanks to Cowboy."

Buckshot had an honorable military career serving with highly decorated and prestigious units such as the 101st Airborne, 1st, 3rd and 5th Special Forces. It was with Special Forces that he excelled as a medic, humanitarian, and warrior; the medals on his chest borne this out. He wore the Presidential Unit Citation, the Bronze Star for Valor, two Bronze Stars for Meritorious Service, Combat Infantryman Badge, Combat Divers Badge, Master Parachutist Badge, two Army Commendation Medals and Vietnam Service medal with 4 Campaign Stars.

For myself, I remember Buckshot and his brother Lavon; nicknamed Rooster, from my early grammar school years in Quincy and Blountstown, Florida. I grew up hearing stories of Buckshot and Rooster and, in my youth, would marvel at their antics. They seemed bigger than life.

My first real memory of them was at my father's fish camp (Davidson's Fish Camp) on Lake Talquin outside of Quincy. Buckshot was about 15 or 16 and he had two shotguns with him that afternoon. First he talked Rooster into pulling both triggers on a double barreled shotgun. I can still see Rooster flying through the air, landing on his backside.

Next he gave me a single barrel shotgun to shoot. I was excited because this was the first time I had ever got to shoot a shotgun. I was too small to hold the gun against my shoulder, so I just put it under my arm. The same as I did on my 22 rifle. That was a mistake because when I pulled the trigger the gun shot past me and the only resistance it met was my nose, which it almost broke but did bloody.

Later that year, Buckshot went into the Army and ended up serving 7 tours in Vietnam. He was back at Ft. Bragg in 1969 when I was with the 6th Special Forces Group. My mother told me he was back and I only got to visit him once before he left again for Vietnam. We stood in his yard for over an hour talking. He did not invite me in nor did he introduce me to his wife (I later learned why).

Much of the conversation was about his tours and his leaving again for another tour (his 5th, at the time). I was really impressed with his patriotism and dedication to duty. Later, in about 1973/4 he was out of service living in Panama City, Florida. I stopped by his house for a visit, this time I was invited in and did meet his wife. My earlier hero worship about his patriotism and duty may have been unfounded or at least tarnished. He wanted to go back to Vietnam to get away from that ole girl he married. I too would have wanted to stay in Vietnam if I had her waiting at home.

He later divorced and married a wonderful lady named Cathie. They had a beautiful life together for the 18 years of their marriage.

Buckshot found out last March that he had lung cancer and kept it from everybody until hospice was called in. That was last week and he died Friday. That act alone defines much of his life, he was always more interested in others and did not want to burden friends with his troubles.

I have heard other stories of Green Beret medics in Vietnam. One stuck out in my mind, a simple story, not of combat valor, not of a warrior, but of a humanitarian and healer; a simple snapshot of everyday life in the jungles. Another SF medic, from Chipley, Florida told me about living in grass and bamboo huts. He said he would get up at night and walk outside, a Bru (a tribe of the Montagnard peoples) or two would always wake and call out in the dark, "Is that you, Bacsi?" I think I'll always remember Buckshot with that thought, "Is that you, Bacsi?"

Email:

lorrie@scally.com

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