Trafford Publishing: I Served

Here is the full reference card for this book...

If you'd rather place an order by talking to one of our cheerful order desk clerks, please call 1-888-232-4444 (USA and Canada only) or 250-383-6864. From Europe, ring our UK order desk clerk at local rate number 0845 230 9601 (UK only) or 44 (0)1865 722 113.

I Served

by Don C. Hall and Annette R. Hall; co-published with A.D. Hall Publishing

369 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #00-0154; ISBN 1-55212-489-4; US$31.50, C$38.00, EUR24.70, £18.00

I Served is a first-person account of the lonely childhood and manhood rites of passage of a Catholic orphanage schoolboy and plankholder in Company F, 51st Long Range Patrol (Airborne) Infantry. From separation from most of his siblings, to life in an orphanage in Virginia, to the dank jungles of Viet Nam, and finally to homecoming and marriage to his childhood sweetheart, Don Hall keeps us on edge.

Read more!

about the book      about the author      excerpts      catalogue info

About the Book

Unceremoniously dumped in the orphanage by their drunken, war-traumatized father, Don and his brother Mike learn the harsh realities of life. We can feel the fear of the tormented child and smell the antiseptic dormitory. Not all is bad there, for it is during this time that the young Donald sees his true love, Annette, for the first time. Her brunette hair, twinkling eyes and heart-melting smile are what help sustain the warrior's sanity and focus during some of his darkest moments, which are yet to come.
Don was a 'malcontent renegade' in the eyes of the nuns, because he fought for his dignity and that of his brother. Recalcitrant, yet gregarious, Don is dismissed from the orphanage with his brother, and returned to the father who had abandoned them. No hope for the future leads the seventeen-year-old boy, old beyond his years, to a recruiter's office and the Army.
In August 1967, after a tour in Alaska and six months in Germany, the young paratrooper volunteers for duty in the Republic of Vietnam and is initially assigned to the 173d Airborne Brigade. Then, he hears a call for volunteers and joins a new long range patrol unit being formed, with the motto "I Serve," and the charter of taking the war to the enemy. Expertly weaving heart-thumping moments as enemy soldiers walk past within mere feet of patrols, the cacophony of battle and copper-taste of adrenaline during contacts, and the stark contrasts of the war, Don Hall takes us on his tour with the Lurps. We feel the anguish of losing teammates, and share the love for comrades. We see the oblivious eyes of the enemy walking toward an ambush, and the handmade wooden cross prepared by a soldier for a dead enemy tossed from a helicopter. We hear the cries of the wounded and the soft strains of songs on the radio. We feel the hurt and anger of the young boy, and the power and control of the soldier as he serves.
I Served takes us on a journey we cannot stop once the first page is turned. In the end, it is the simple understatement of service and quiet professionalism which makes this story different. We should all pause to reflect that we have much for which to be thankful, provided by the sacrifices of those who served.
          -book description written by Command Sergeant Major Jeff Mellinger

About the Author

Don C. Hall grew up in Catholic orphanage in southwest Virginia and enlisted in the U.S. Army in February 1965, shortly after his 17th birthday. He served in Vietnam in 1967-68 as a combat team leader in Company F, 52st Long Range Patrol (Airborne) Infantry. After leaving the service in 1970, he served as a police officer and then later worked as a privat investigator. Together, Don and his wife Annette wrote I Served. In addition, they produced an award-winning documentary about Don's unit, title ''Silent Victory: the story of Co. F, 51st Long Range Patrol (Airborne) Infantry.'' They just finished showing ''Silent Victory'' at various film festivals around the country. In the final festival in which ''Silent Victory'' appeared (the Vision Film Festival in Virginia, in April 2005), they capped off a successful festival run by winning the Audience Choice Award and the Best Editing Award. ''Silent Victory'' has consistently won high praise from audiences and festival previewers alike. Don and his wife Annette have known eachother since the eighth grade and have been married since July 1968. They have one daughter. For more information about I Served, please visit www.i-served.com. For more information about ''Silent Victory,'' please visit www.silentvictory.com.

Excerpts

from Chapter 2

    The nun yelled at us to be quiet, and, in a few minutes, she and another nun lined everyone up and herded us out of the building, toward the large gold church. We all filed into the church and moved quickly into some squeaky, wooden, tall-backed benches. It was dim inside this cavernous place, and it smelled funny. Suddenly, everyone stood up and started mumbling words, then knelt down and stood up over and over again, for what seemed like hours. I could not see what was going on in the rest of the church because there were a lot of adults in front of us, blocking my view. Every now and then, through the forest of adult bodies, I would catch a glimpse of a man in the front of the church, who was dressed in white-and-gold clothes, moving back and forth on a white stone platform. The entire time, the nuns chastised anyone who wiggled or moved, whispering loudly, "Stop squirming, fold your hands, kneel up straight, stand up straight, keep your eyes in front of you, no talking or moving around."
    I could not understand any of the things that were going on. This dark mysterious place was scary even though there were paintings on the walls and on the vaulted ceilings of beautiful people with wings, and of little pink babies sitting on clouds, holding signs I couldn't read because they didn't look like any words I had ever seen before. After church was finally over, we all filed outside, and one of the Sisters pointed and told me that the large, red, brick building across from the orphanage was the elementary school, which the Catholic children from the parish attended, including us. I wondered what "Catholic" and "parish" meant. She said the boys from the orphanage walked the short distance across the grassy mall to the school buildings every morning after church to join the other children in the classrooms. I started the trek to the school, feeling relieved that I was going to get away from those black-clothed hateful women, at least for awhile. I had been told to follow the other boys and that they would show me where to go.
     Trooping the short distance to the school building, I felt out of place because the boys all had books, and Mike and I did not. When we arrived and went inside the grade-school building, one of the boys pointed out a classroom to me and told me to go in and sit down. Mike was directed to another classroom and gave me a worried look as we parted. As soon as I stepped inside the classroom door, I saw the teacher - she was wearing one of those black witch outfits. I was crestfallen, realizing that every hour of my life was going to be spent in the presence of those stern, angry women.

from Chapter 17

    Several hours passed while we sat motionless, listening and waiting. To add to the eeriness of the night, the moon rose in the black sky and its light came filtering through the trees. The tall trees would afford us some excellent cover, as would the few small knee- to waist-high bushes in front of us, while still leaving us superb fields of fire. I grew stiff sitting Indian style with the AK-47 across my lap and my right hand resting on the wooden stock, waiting. My hazardous seat in this jungle was a long way from the nice warm sofa in front of the fireplace that most nineteen-year-olds were sitting on right now. I wondered if it was snowing back in Virginia. I'd give anything to be there now, I thought, walking with Annette in the snow after Midnight Mass.
    A change in pitch in the night sounds brought a sudden chill to everyone in the perimeter. The cool night air and the slight movement in front of me interrupted my reverie. Short Round reached out and touched me about the same time Frazier did. There was no doubt in my mind that a small-framed man was slowly moving toward us. I could no longer ignore the fear in my belly that tasted like a cold piece of lead in my throat. Every man in the perimeter lay silent, each nursing their own thoughts of home, of what might have been if they had been dealt a better hand in life.
    "They're comin'," came a whisper in the night from around the perimeter. I could hear the squelch break on the radio, and was able barely to hear Alexander whispering into the handset to TOC, "We have movement in three different locations, over."
    Mike Frazier sniffed, then drew himself lower into his fighting hole and wiped his sweaty hand down his fatigue jacket. "Keep a last bullet in your weapon for yourself," he muttered. "Did I ever tell you I wanted to be a musician, Don?" he whispered to me.
    Without answering, I looked down at my watch - 2330 hours. "Charlie's in time for Midnight Mass," I whispered to Frazier and Short Round as we slowly and quietly lay down in our trenches, readying ourselves.
    "Stay still. Don't do anything until they are on top of us. Pass the word," I whispered to Frazier.
    Short Round whispered to me moments later, "We have enemy movement on two flanks. Alexander is calling in a fire mission. Stay down..." Desperation edged his trailing whisper.
    The not knowing sent a cold spray of ice water down my back as I lay in the shallow trench, trying to make sense of the night sounds and the shadows.
    Another man joined the small-framed figure in front of us about twenty meters away. He began to move from side to side as if to see better, or hoping someone would fire. Maybe they didn't know exactly where we were, but he started to move in a crouched position toward us. I couldn't whisper anymore to Frazier or Short Round because he was ten feet in front of our claymore mines now, and still coming. Think, Hall. Think! Let him come to the claymore and grenade him. Don't waste the claymore, I told myself. My heart was pounding uncontrollably in my chest and my breathing sounded like a storm in my head. Surely the man ahead could hear my heartbeat. I heard a whisper in Vietnamese and then more movement. I couldn't believe it - these guys were coming straight to us. The first man was now between my two claymores, and he quickly squatted down behind a bush that I had one of my claymores in.
    Several interminable minutes passed, and then he stood up to move closer. I could plainly see the outline of the AK he was carrying. A couple of shadows moved behind him and I knew we were in for it. Slowly, I removed the pin from my grenade and held my breath. I could see the man more clearly now as he stood about ten feet in front of me, holding that AK. I released the spoon of the grenade.
    Plink!

Catalogue Information