Sometimes the hardest part of serving in Vietnam wasn’t surviving the war—it was simply trying to call home.
🪖 Brothers In Arms • Field Notes from Those Who Served
Today, a Marine deployed halfway around the world can pull a smartphone out of his pocket, tap FaceTime or WhatsApp, and be looking at his family’s faces within seconds.
In 1969, calling home from Vietnam felt like trying to contact another planet.
Most of us relied on something called the Military Affiliate Radio System, better known as MARS. It wasn’t a telephone network in the modern sense. Instead, it was an incredible chain of military radio stations and volunteer amateur radio operators who donated their time to help service members speak with their families.
The process sounded almost impossible.
A military radio station in Vietnam would beam your voice across the Pacific Ocean by shortwave radio. Volunteer ham radio operators in places like Hawaii, Texas, California, or wherever the signal landed would receive it, then connect your call through the regular telephone system to your family back home.
The calls were free, but they came with plenty of limitations.
You waited in line—sometimes for hours.
You usually got only five or ten minutes.
Because everyone shared the same radio frequency, only one person could speak at a time. Every sentence ended with one word:
“Over.”
It wasn’t exactly the easiest way to have a conversation.
Finally, My Turn
One day at Dong Ha in 1969, after waiting what felt like forever, my name was finally called.
I slipped on the headset while the MARS operator began making the connection.
Somewhere out there, my voice bounced across the Pacific Ocean through a chain of radio operators until, hopefully, a telephone began ringing in my hometown of Florissant, Missouri.
My heart was pounding.
I hadn’t spoken to my mother in months.
Finally, someone answered.
“Hello?”
It wasn’t my mother.
It was a young babysitter.
“This is Margie’s son Richard calling from Vietnam… over.”
Silence.
Then she replied,
“Yeah, right! Who’s playing this cruel joke?”
I tried again.
“No… really. It’s Richard… calling from Vietnam… over.”
She wasn’t buying it.
I spent almost my entire precious MARS call trying to convince this poor young girl that I really was Richard, calling all the way from Vietnam.
She never did sound convinced.
As my time expired, I honestly don’t think she believed a single word I said.
That was my one shot at using MARS.
I never got another chance.
At the time it was incredibly disappointing.
Looking back nearly sixty years later, it’s actually pretty funny.
A Second Chance
Fortunately, fate eventually smiled on me.
Because of an unexpected friendship with members of the Lykes Steamship family, I later found myself aboard one of their cargo ships, the Maria Lykes, anchored in Da Nang Harbor.
Using the ship’s radio room, I finally managed to call home.
That story deserves a post all by itself.
Then and Now
Young service members today probably can’t imagine how different military communication once was.
In Vietnam:
- You waited hours for a chance to make one call.
- Calls lasted only five or ten minutes.
- Every sentence ended with “over.”
- Conversations were heard by military radio operators.
- You hoped someone answered the phone.
Today, deployed troops can:
- Video chat with family.
- Send photos instantly.
- Watch their kids’ birthday parties live.
- Exchange text messages throughout the day.
- Stay connected almost anytime an internet connection is available.
Technology has transformed military life in ways we never imagined.
Looking Back
The funny part of my story isn’t that the babysitter thought someone was playing a prank.
The funny part is that I spent my entire phone call trying to prove I was me.
At twenty years old, halfway around the world in a war zone, all I wanted was to hear my mother’s voice and let her know I was still alive.
Instead, I got into an argument with a babysitter.
It wasn’t what I had planned.
But after all these years, it’s become one of my favorite Vietnam memories.
Sometimes the stories that make us laugh the hardest are the ones that disappointed us the most at the time.
🗣️ Brothers in Arms Reflection
War changes.
Weapons change.
Technology changes.
But one thing never changes.
Every service member, no matter where they’re stationed, wants the same thing at the end of the day—to let the people back home know they’re okay.
In 1969, that took a network of radios, volunteer ham operators, and a little luck.
Today, it takes a tap on a smartphone.
I’m glad today’s young Marines have it easier.
They’ve earned that privilege.
🇺🇸 Bunker Notice This story is one of many from my years as a United States Marine—from boot camp and Vietnam to the memories, friendships, and lessons that stayed with me long after I came home. If you enjoy firsthand stories about military life, Vietnam, veterans, and the history many books leave out, consider joining the mission. 📬 Subscribe to the Bunker Briefing and you’ll receive new Brothers in Arms stories, along with my latest articles on history, retirement in the Philippines, AI, and life observations—delivered straight to your inbox.
🇺🇸 Brothers in Arms
These are true stories from my years as a United States Marine—from the decision to enlist, through boot camp and Vietnam, to the memories that followed me home. Read them in roughly chronological order.
-
Why I Became a Marine
The decision that changed the course of my life. -
The Yellow Footprints: How Boot Camp Turned Boys Into Marines
The unforgettable first weeks of Marine Corps boot camp. -
The Theft Ring
Standing up for what was right came with consequences in Vietnam. -
Ghosts in the Barracks: The War That Followed Us Home
Some battles don’t end when the shooting stops.
📂 Looking for more?
Visit the complete Brothers in Arms Hub for every story, article, and future installment.