VietNow National Magazine

You Can't Tell a Book by Its Cover

A tribute to the quiet lives of some who were awarded the Medal of Honor

By Karen St. John

Leonard B. "Len" Keller

Len Keller of Milton, Florida, formerly of Rockford, Illinois, died on October 18, 2009, at the age of 62. Known by his friends as a hard-working, humble and quiet guy, Keller had supervised the supply department at Whiting Field Naval Air Station, a branch of the Pensacola Naval Air Station, for over 20 years before he retired in 2008. On that day in October of 2009, he was leaving a Fleet Reserve Association veterans' club on his beloved, custom-built three-wheeled Harley-Davidson, when he suddenly accelerated too fast going into a left turn, and lost control of his vehicle. The Harley-Davidson rolled over several times, stopping on top of Keller, and he died a short time later.

Friends of Keller thought they knew him. He was a decent, kind man who cared deeply for his family and friends, delighting in his children and grandchildren. He had earned respect, and the reputation as the kind of person who readily pitched in when help was needed. But there was something else about Keller that his friends were shocked to learn: He was not what he appeared to be. He was not a "normal" man. He was a bona fide national hero. Keller, ever the quiet and humble man, had never mentioned to his friends that he had received the Congressional Medal of Honor.

Keller was drafted into the U.S. Army in the spring of 1966. After attending basic training at Fort Campbell, Kentucky, and advanced infantry training at Fort Polk, Louisiana, he accompanied his fellow comrades of the 60th Infantry Regiment, 9th Infantry Division to Vietnam. There, in the Mekong Delta, Keller and his unit were put on reconnaissance missions.

On May 2 of 1967, Keller, now a sergeant with Company A, 3rd Battalion, 60th Infantry Regiment, 9th Infantry Division, was with his unit under intense fire from several enemy bunkers and snipers in trees. After killing a Viet Cong who was trying to escape, and armed with a light machine gun, Keller leaped to the top of a dike, and with Specialist Four Raymond R. Wright, charged the enemy bunkers. Keller and Wright went from bunker to bunker, killing the enemy within. Under near-constant enemy fire, the duo made it to the tree line, forcing the snipers to flee. Only when he ran out of ammunition did Keller return to his unit, and helped with the medical evacuation of the wounded.

Both Wright and Keller were awarded the Medal of Honor. The Medal of Honor Citation for Keller concludes, "Sgt. Keller's selfless heroism and indomitable fighting spirit saved the lives of many of his comrades and inflicted serious damage on the enemy. His acts were in keeping with the highest traditions of the military service and reflect great credit upon himself and the U.S. Army." Keller accepted his medal on September 19, 1968, from President Lyndon B. Johnson.

On November 30, 2009, at Arlington National Cemetery, the body of Keller was carried on a horse-led caisson. A soldier from the Old Guard, the Army's ceremonial unit, the 3rd U.S. Infantry Regiment, carried the official Medal of Honor flag behind the caisson. After the firing party shot three volleys, and while the bugler played "Taps," four Congressional Medal of Honor recipients and eight members of the Patriot Guard stood at attention, saluting the flag. Keller was buried a few rows from a Medal of Honor recipient from the Iraq war, Army Spec. Ross Andrew McGinnis, who was killed at age 19.

Vernon Baker

It was 1941, and before Pearl Harbor. Twenty-one-year-old Vernon Baker was living in his grandfather's home town of Clarinda, Iowa, when he decided to quit his railroad job. He "…got tired of being a porter on the railroad and servant." After working menial jobs, he decided to see a recruiter about enlisting in the Army. But the Army did not want a black man, and told the young man, "We don't have any quotas for you people." Not to be deterred, Baker went to a different recruiter, and tried again. This time he was allowed to enlist, but his request to become a quartermaster was denied. He was sent to the infantry.

By summer, Baker was in training at Camp Wolters, Texas, and in Officer Candidate School. He was commissioned as a second lieutenant in January of 1943. In an interview for PBS's "Stories of Valor," Baker recounted the week leading up to his graduation. "…(W)e were setting up in the stands, and our tac officer, who was in charge of our platoon asked, 'Do any of you have any questions about why you're here in OCS?' And one of the candidates stood up and said, 'Yes sir, Lieutenant, we'd like to know, um, why are they making so many second lieutenants?' At that time the war was in full swing. And the tac officer gave that grin and said, 'Candidate, because second lieutenants are expendable.'"

Baker and the all-black 92nd Infantry Division were sent to Italy in June of 1944. He grew close to the men in his platoon, writing letters back home for those who could not read or write. The division landed at Civitavecchia, on Italy's west coast, and began the trek up the peninsula. Baker was wounded in October and reunited with his unit in reserve in December. In the spring of 1945, Baker and his unit were placed into active combat.

One of the biggest battles ever fought in Italy took place on April 5, 1945. All his life, talking of the memories of that day would bring tears to Baker's eyes. He and his men were locked in a fierce encounter with the enemy when his company commander announced he was heading back for reinforcements. The commander never returned. Later Baker learned that his commander had deserted them. Prejudiced and believing that all blacks were cowards and couldn't fight, the commander had told his battalion leader that Baker and his group were "all wiped out." He could not have been further from the truth.

Baker and his unit had been given a German stronghold as a target: Castle Aghinolfi, on the high ground just east of the coastal highway, and about two miles from the 370th Infantry Regiment's line of departure. Charging ahead, the young second lieutenant led his platoon and Company C's three rifle platoons straight, and successfully through, the lines of German defenses. Sprinting ahead of his company, with about 25 other men, Baker and the others got within 250 yards of the coast in less than two hours. There, he spotted an observation post, and crawled toward it. He was able to sneak up on the two occupants, and kill them. When he came upon a machine-gun nest with two enemy soldiers having their breakfast, Baker killed the startled men before they could react.

Heavy machine-gun and mortar fire rained down on Baker's men, killing or wounding two-thirds of his unit. When the assault was finally over, Baker had killed nine enemy soldiers, eliminated three machine-gun positions, one observation post, and a dugout. But he didn't stop there. On the following night, he voluntarily led a battalion advance through enemy mine fields and heavy fire.

When Baker finally made it back to regimental headquarters, he felt un­appreciated. "When I went back to regimental headquarters to turn in the dog tags of the 19 men that I'd left up on that hill there, I was chewed out by the regimental commander Colonel Sherman himself, because I wasn't wearing a steel helmet. And what made me really angry," he said, "…was the fact that nobody gave us any word of encour­agement or any words of thanks."

Though Baker's actions on April 5 and 6, 1945, were actions deserving of the Medal of Honor, no Medals of Honor were awarded to black soldiers who served in World War II.

In 1993, the U.S. Army commissioned a study of the criteria for awarding medals during World War II. Several black Distinguished Service Cross recipients had their awards upgraded to the Medal of Honor, but only Baker would live to receive the recognition in person. In January of 1997, President Bill Clinton formally presented the Medal of Honor to Baker.

At the time of his death, on July 13, 2010, Baker was living in a cabin in the Benewah Valley of northern Idaho, with his third wife, Heidy. Baker was buried in Arlington National Cemetery.

What can we say about heroes like Keller and Baker? No words can fully summarize or adequately honor their hearts of courage or their spirits of determination that saved the lives of their "brothers." These men lived quiet lives. Perhaps it is fitting to say a quiet thank you, and let the lives of those they saved and the generations that were thus allowed to follow, be the loud tribute they so richly deserve.

Karen St. John is a freelance writer, whose brother is a Vietnam veteran. Visit her web site at www.stjohnjournals.com.

Watch for part two in our next issue.

Web sites and locations of Medal of Honor Memorials

Indianapolis, Indiana
www.medalofhonormemorial.com/

Riverside, California: www.rncsc.org/

Mount Pleasant, South Carolina:
www.patriotspoint.org/exhibits/medal_honor/

Pueblo, Colorado:
www.pueblomohfoundation.com/

Legion of Valor History:
www.legionofvalor.com/history.php

Preserving the History of the Recipients of the Medal of Honor: www.homeofheroes.com

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