Vietnam War veteran Gary Loring , a former Cape Cod resident who lives in New Mexico, doesn’t specifically remember the frantic last days of Operation Frequent Wind , when U.S. helicopters moved 7,000 people out of Saigon in two days before its fall to the North Vietnamese in late April 1975. He doesn’t remember the iconic photograph of one Huey helicopter perched on the roof of the Pittman building with a long line of hopeful evacuees waiting to board. What he remembers from his service as a U.S. Army lab technician in a field hospital was the stream of casualties coming through for triage.

He arrived in the South Vietnam delta on Christmas Eve 1967. After two weeks of training, he was thrown as a medic into pre-op preparation for wounded soldiers. One month later the Tet Offensive began, and the North pummeled American troops with a constant barrage of mortars. Loring took hits to his leg, arm and stomach. Small pieces of shrapnel remain in his arm.

“The war was going full swing; I saw a lot of casualties,” he said in an April 16 interview.

What he remembers is being called a baby killer when he returned to the states. What he remembers is not telling people he was in Vietnam. What he remembers is the decades it took before he was recognized for his service in an unpopular war.

April 30 2025

This year marks the 50 ^th anniversary of the fall of Saigon and the end of the Vietnam War. The Times spoke with veterans living on or near Cape Cod now about their experiences and memories from that tumultuous time.

Some served in country, some served on ships off the coast of Vietnam, and some were stationed in Europe or remained back in the US. They gathered intelligence, provided air support for troops under attack, relayed communications, led troops in combat.

For Justin Lantini, president of the Vietnam Veterans of America, Chapter 207 , based in Westport, it doesn’t matter where a veteran served.

“I ask three questions,” he said during a Vietnam War commemoration service held at the Massachusetts National Cemetery in Bourne on March 31. “Did you go where they told you to go? Did you do what they told you to do? And did you serve honorably? That’s all I need to know."

John G. “Buddy” Andrade was a Marine Corps combat veteran who served from September 1968 to March 1970. He was a point man with the 7th Marines, Kilo Company, 3rd platoon stationed outside of Da Nang. He wishes more people would talk about Vietnam War veterans, especially those who never came home.

“ It’s important that we don’t forget each other,” Andrade said in an interview March 31 at the National Cemetery. “I don’t care what branch of military you served in, it was a special time in world history, and it shouldn’t be forgotten. The best I can do in my own little world is pray for them, pray for the guys we lost, pray for our government to bring peace.

An unpopular war

More than nine million Americans served in the Armed Forces during the Vietnam War era, including 2.7 million who served in Vietnam. The first U.S. advisers were sent in 1950 and the last combat troops were pulled out in 1975. At one point more than 500,000 troops were in Vietnam. About 50% of them were drafted.

The names of 58,220 dead are engraved on the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington, D.C. Another 1,600 remain missing in action.

U.S. involvement began under President Truman and escalated under President Johnson in 1965 when troops were sent in. Ten years later it was considered officially ended. But the war lingered for decades for those who felt ostracized and in poor health from their service.

Howard Shrut was part of a seven-man team with the U.S. Army Intelligence Corps stationed 20 miles outside of Da Nang. Soldiers were the most visual reminders of the unpopular war, he said during an interview on March 31 at the National Cemetery.

“We got pilloried for it,” he said. “Now ... people are starting to understand that we performed our service. We were patriots. We served our country.”

Eastham resident Lou Anjular was an executive officer at an artillery base camp whose mission was to support infantry in the central highlands. They had 175-millimeter guns whose shells could travel 25 miles; eight-inch guns whose shells were good for eight miles. Anjular and his men moved around a lot, taking their guns through land deforested by Agent Orange.

"I had a lot of young fellas,” Anjular said during an April 23 telephone interview. “A lot of them didn’t want to be there so I had to keep up their morale. It was a tough thing.”

When he was discharged, he was told not to wear his uniform home because it would incite people, he recalled.

“Now they realize what we went through. Now I’m in a wheelchair. Now people thank you for your service.”

Agent Orange

Anjular was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease , a condition presumptively caused by his exposure to Agent Orange . While he knew early on that his body “wasn’t normal,” it took decades for the U.S. government to recognize the far-ranging impacts of the herbicide. U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs now recognizes more than 50 presumptive conditions related to Agent Orange exposure, including cancers, diabetes, and neurological disorders.

Dennis resident David Eastman never set foot on Vietnam soil, but he’s been diagnosed with cancer and Parkinson’s disease. Eastman served on the USS Annapolis, a communication relay ship that traveled up and down the coast of Vietnam. Eighty ships and 55,000 men depended on them to send and receive critical messages, he said during an April 22 interview.

It took the U.S. government even longer to acknowledge Agent Orange carried on prevailing winds and was present in the desalinated water that the sailors consumed, bathed and washed in. Eastman's disability was denied three times before Congress passed the Blue Water Navy Vietnam Veterans Act of 2019, 54 years after he volunteered for service, he said.

Eastman retired from the military after 32 years including four with the U.S. Navy, 18 with the Navy Reserves and 10 with the Air Force Reserves. He’s proud of his service and of the military that’s been a huge part of his life.

John Gibbons is another career military man. He was stationed in Germany as a Morse code interceptor deciphering Russian codes from 1970 to 1974. Following his Army service, he joined the Coast Guard and retired after 20 years. He didn’t care for politicians who he said fought the war from behind their desks. Nor did he appreciate the antiwar protests, adding, “We didn’t care for that.”

Gibbons has followed in his father’s footsteps as a member of the American Legion 26th Yankee Division Post 230 in Bourne. The 74-year-old was in the Honor Guard at the National Cemetery on March 31. He lifted the rifle to his shoulder for a three-volley salute at the end of the ceremony. He serves at a lot of funerals at Bourne, he said.

Maurice Brousseau traveled from Westport for the March 31 commemoration. The Navy veteran sported a USS C.P. Cecil cap, the name of the destroyer he served on off the coast of Vietnam. His jacket was emblazoned with logos of the U.S. Navy and Chapter 207 of the Vietnam Veterans of America. With a wispy white beard and moustache, Brousseau was there to honor those who never came back. He'd been to Normandy, saw the crosses in the cemetery overlooking Omaha Beach , some with names, some with the phrase, “Known only to God.”

“They were just pieces,” he said. “That gets you.”

Denise Coffey writes about business, tourism and issues impacting the Cape’s residents and visitors. Contact her at .

Thanks to our subscribers, who help make this coverage possible. If you are not a subscriber, please consider supporting quality local journalism with a Cape Cod Times subscription. Here are our subscription plans .