PLEASE FORGIVE this untimely letter. I have meant to write it ever since that
grim Mother's Day in 1969. I have thought of you many times over these long
years, but somehow I could never make the effort to place my thoughts to you
on paper. I apologize for not trying to contact you sooner. I hope that this
message gets to you.

Although I knew Michael for only a few days, we developed a bond that has
spanned 31 years of my life.

I met Michael around May 8, 1969. We were both members of Kilo Company, 3rd
Battalion, 5th Marines. The battalion was conducting operations in an area
known as the Phu Nuans near our main base of operations, An Hoa Combat Base.
When I met Michael I was being transferred to his squad. Of course I didn't
re ally want to leave my squad even though I had arrived there only a month
earlier.

I was 18. Michael was 20.

On May 9, we received orders to proceed to the Arizona Territory, across the
Song Thu Bon River. We were going to be part of the 1st Battalion. The plan
was to trap North Vietnamese units.

After crossing the river, we hadn't traveled far when our platoon commander
was wounded by a booby trap and had to be rescued by helicopter. Staff Sgt.
Ervin Emrick took command. We kept moving to our rallying point and reached
it sometime after dark. We took positions and prepared to move out in the
early morning hours to attack an armed village.
Shortly after settling in, Sgt. Emrick came to Michael and told him that he
needed his best man to accompany the 1st Platoon on a reconnaissance mission
to the village to pinpoint its location and layout. The man sent on the
mission from our squad would lead our platoon to the village for the morning
attack.

Michael, without hesitation, said "I will send Winget." With that, Sgt.
Emrick reiterated that he said his best man. Michael answered with "He is my
best man!"
After Sgt. Emrick left, I told Michael that Sgt. Emrick wanted his best man.
I told him that I had been in the country hardly a month, while the rest of
the squad members had been there for more than five months. But he told me,
"Winget, you are my best man." I felt a sense of pride when he told me that
and began to prepare for the mission.

The mission was scrubbed halfway through due to heavy enemy movement all
around us. As we moved toward the village we came upon a "hooch," a shelter.
As we began to pass, we suddenly saw the glow of cigarettes, and several
people began talking inside the hooch. Although we were only 20 feet away,
the enemy soldiers inside did not detect us. We stood in our tracks, not
moving, our rifles trained on the hooch as the platoon commander contacted
the company commander for permission to open fire.
Just as we were getting the word to fire, an illumination round fired by our
artillery went off overhead, and the soldiers inside the hooch saw the line
of Marines outside and started shouting and running. They were out of the
hooch and gone in the blink of an eye. As we moved on, the North Vietnamese
were aware of our presence and sent out patrols to ambush us. They were
continually moving around us, but we were able to elude them.
With this the mission was canceled, and we returned to the company position.
Watches were set up, and we at tempted to get some sleep before our early
morning attack on the village.

Just before daylight, Michael told us that when we made our attack we were to
keep moving at all times. He told us to not stop if one of our men was hit
but to keep advancing and notify a corpsman. He told us that if we were
wounded we should shout out to the men around us that we were hit. Then we
were to wait and they would return for us once the village was secured. We
all prepared for the worst.

As we came upon the outskirts of the village, we received our final orders.
We met with little resistance and once inside the village we found several
wounded enemy soldiers who had been left behind when the others fled. We
thoroughly searched the village and checked out the underground bunkers.
I can remember seeing Michael enter an underground bunker carrying only a
grenade in his hand. When he emerged from the bunker I asked him what he was
doing. He told me that if there were enemy soldiers in the bunker he would
probably be shot right away, but with the grenade in his hand he would still
be able to take them out.

With the village secured, we dug in to spend the night. It was May 10.
As I said in the beginning of this letter, during our time together Michael
and I developed a deep bond. This bond developed because he was the first
person to tell me that I was his best man and be cause I trusted him with my
life and felt a sense of well being when I was around him -- a feeling that
is not easily attain able in the backdrop of war.
The next morning, Mother's Day, we saddled up and prepared to sweep to ward
the Song Thu Bon River. Once we crossed the river back into the Phu Nuans,
our mission would be complete. While moving toward the river, we fired upon
every village we came to with mortar fire before entering. We reached the
river at a place known as Football Is land. We had to pass through one more
village. This time the company commander did not prep the village with mortar
fire before we moved in.
I don't know why the commander didn't prep the last village, but I can
speculate that since we hadn't run into opposition during the day that he was
simply lured into a false sense of security. I am sure that he always
regretted that choice. However, in the scheme of things it would not have
changed things.

As we moved toward the river, the company was sweeping through the area as we
went. We were in a "squad rushes" formation. All squads in the company were
abreast, and each squad had a point man. I was the point man for our squad.
Michael told me I must have noticed that in his squad, unlike the rest of the
squads, he did not have fire team leaders. He told me that was because he did
not have anyone he could trust to handle the position.
But he said that once we got back across the river he was going to get the
squad together and tell them that he was making me a fire team leader. This
made me feel 10 feet tall and cinched our bond that much tighter. In only a
few days, he had assessed my abilities and came to trust me more than the
original squad members. I, likewise, had come to completely trust him and
felt a strong sense of security with his leadership abilities.

As we began our approach to that final village before the river, I heard a
gunshot to my left. I saw the point man falling to the ground, as if in slow
motion. A cloud of gunsmoke wafted in the air several feet in front of him.
Suddenly our world erupted into the endless sounds of gunfire. The North
Vietnamese opened fire on us while we were in a barren potato field with fur
rows about 4 inches high. I was pinned down out in front of the rest of the
squad for what seemed to be hours. It was probably more like 15 to 30
minutes.

By the time I made it back to a small incline, the only man I found alive was the squad radio operator. He was surprised to see me still alive. As I surveyed the area, I saw the rest of the squad lying in the open field. No one was moving.

As we returned fire, using the incline for cover, the members of my old squad
came over to our position. We had to get Michael and the other members of the
squad out of the field.

Another squad member ran to get a rope. We ran into the open field and
started firing at the enemy soldiers while a corpsman -- I believe his name
was Jim Richardson -- secured the rope around Michael. We then pulled him
back to the cover of the incline. Doc Richardson worked on Michael as best he
could, but there was nothing that could have reversed the final outcome.
The main thing that I want you to know is that I stayed with Michael until
the end. He was not alone when he died. While I was with him, I said the best
prayers that I could for him.

Although I knew Michael for only a few days, he became one of the best
friends that I ever had. I would also like to think that I became one of the
best friends that he ever had. There are not many days that go by that I
don't think of Michael and Sgt. Emrick, who also died that day.
Michael was a Marine in the truest since of the word. I know that everyone
who knew him trusted and respected him. He will always be a large part of my
life, the first person to truly believe in me and trust me. He helped me set
the course of my life, which is based on honesty and honor and respect.
I hope that this letter finds its way to a member of Michael's family so that
they know what a truly great squad leader, Marine and person he was to those
who served with him. And that we truly shared your loss.

Winget suffered heat exhaustion in the attack, which took place in 100-degree
weather. He was airlifted to a military hospital in a helicopter filled with
the bodies of his fellow soldiers. He served in Vietnam from April 1969 to
March 1970. He eventually earned the rank of sergeant and was awarded several
citations and the Vietnamese Cross of Gallantry.