For you Old Corps Marines, you may remember, "The Marine Corps has two types of stories, one is a Fairy Tale, the other a Sea Story". The Fairy Tale starts out "Once upon a time" and ends "And they lived Happily ever after". The Sea Story starts out "You're not gonna believe this sh-t", and ends "I told you, you wouldn't believe this sh-t".
A month after I turned 17, I joined the Marine Corps October 4, 1959 at a Reserve unit in Amarillo Texas telling them I wanted to be a regular Marine not a reserve, so they marked through Reserve on the paperwork. I left for boot camp the next day with an hour stop-over in Las Vegas. While walking into the terminal I saw some slot machines which I never knew existed, and so I walked up to a dime machine, reached in my pocket, and took out the only dime I had… actually only money I had. I hit the jackpot and the tray was filled with dimes and about that time someone grabbed me by the neck asking how old I was. I told him 17 sir, he said come with me son, you're under arrest. Shaking in my shoes I pulled out my orders and handed them to the policeman, he looked at them, then me smiled and laughing said "You're going to Marine Boot Camp, h-ll I can't beat that. Now take all that money and give it to the driver in that taxi and he will show you around town." I pocketed
a hand full of dimes and went on the tour. When I arrived at MCRD San Diego I was wishing he had put me in jail.
When receiving my uniform issue I got in the line for Regular Marines while the DI read off the Reserve names. When he called out my name I heard the DI yell out "Get over here Maggot! What's this Reserve @#$%&#? You been %$#@&*$ us all this time? I explained everything to him and he grabbed me by the neck and we marched over to Headquarters to call Hq. M.C. to clear it up. When I returned I was the most popular recruit in the Platoon in the eyes of the other recruits, but the DI's they hated me and messed with me until the end.
After 2nd. ITR at San Onofre, I made PFC and lucked out meeting a Marine Photographer in the mess hall. He told me the next day, the Gunny at the Photo Lab wanted to talk to me. When I met the Gunny he handed me a camera and told me to go to the beach area where there would be a practice landing and shoot some pictures. After returning, processing the film and printing a couple pictures with my Photo friends help, I impressed the Gunny enough to become an Official Marine Corps Photographer, and went on from there with my new career getting promoted to Lance Corporal.
After a 3-year tour at MCAS Kaneohe Bay, Hawaii, I was transferred to MCAS El Toro as a Corporal. I was sent to Motion Picture School and a couple months later I was selected for Embassy Duty. After graduating 5th in a class of over 100, I was assigned to the US Embassy at Asuncion, Paraguay for 2 years.
In 2007, as a SSgt. I went to Quantico, VA, to the East Coast Motion Picture Production Unit. Later in 2007, I was assigned to the Camera Repair School at Ft. Monmouth, NJ, and I never broke a camera in my life. LOL.
In February 1968, my orders to the 3rd. Marine Division came, and I was off to good old Vietnam arriving at the main Combat Photo section at Phu Bai. Lt. Heard assigned me to take over the Combat Photo Unit Fwd. at Dong Ha. I hitched a ride in a Green Beret Army CH-47 which became my introduction to combat after landing at a few outpost shooting our way in and out. I was really glad when we landed without shooting. The Spec Forces, all laughing, told me this is my new home and if I ever needed a ride again…, I informed them I would never set foot on one of their choppers again.
My first job was to assign Photographers to the units out to stop the insurgents during TET. I hopped a chopper and landed near DaiDoe joining the 1st. Bn, 9th Marines during their attack on the NVA held up there. This was one h-ll of a battle. The Company was pinned down in a graveyard burial mound, and casualties were adding up fast. Like a new guy, I asked what kind of bugs those were that were attacking me, they sounded like june bugs. Needless to say they got a laugh out of me, and that was the last time I heard a laugh from them. They lost over 50 percent of their unit. I found out they were called "The Walking Dead" and I swore not to join them again. I returned to Dong Ha, mailed my film to Phu Bai for processing and some arsh-le in the lab ruined the film, processing it as color negative and it was color slide. All I received from it was a contact sheet after risking my life to get the pictures. I processed my own after that.
A few weeks later, I heard that I lost a couple of my photographers at Khe Sanh when a C-130 was hit landing. I hitched a chopper, (USMC CH-46 this time) and spent a couple days there looking at the C-130 they died in, enjoyed some incoming compliments of the NVA and shot a few feet of the excitement and caught the first bird out to Dong Ha.
After loosing three more of my photographers, KIA, I and two of my remaining photographers joined B Co., 1-3, at Gio lin who were involved with a NVA Ranger unit. That was on flat ground, no mountains, and was Old Corps bunker to bunker fighting. Some of the pictures I took there earned me the Best Combat Photographer for 1968 and a lot of notoriety were Mutters Ridge, Fox Trot Ridge with I think 3rd Marines. They walked into a NVA Regiment ambush and Fox Co. was almost wiped out, B. Co., 1-4, was involved in a sweep south of Khe Sanh, and set up for the
evening on top of a mountain, sent a platoon reinforced with a sniper team, 60 mm mortar team, and 2 photogs., (my friend I taught how to use the camera to take pictures of me) with them to hill 640, one click away. We set up a defensive position and the snipers went to work right away taking out a 4 man NVA patrol, and the Mortar team saw a patrol in a valley just below us and grabbed the tube and some rounds. They set up and using Kentucky windage, fired off a round and it hit right in the middle of the group. That night, just after 2400 I woke up to explosions and green tracers hitting the dirt berm I was using for a pillow and through my tent. I roll over and saw 4 NVA shooting at us. I grabbed my cartridge belt and shrapnel vest, crawled to the entrance of
the bunker I was using for a bed while seeing tracers between me and the ground, dove in, put on my vest and belt, loaded my .45, 1911, getting my head and a-s wired together. About then a Platoon Sgt. ran by me like John Wayne with his M-16 blazing away and I jumped up to join him, stepping in a trench, knocking the breath out of me… it was dead silent. I heard the Sgt. moaning and found he was shot through the right chest. I helped the Corpsman take care of the wounded and KIA's, the rest was a nightmare until "Puff" came around and shot up the area around us.
Later we received more small arms incoming which stopped as quickly as it began, I saw that the dead NVA in front of my position had disappeared. That was when I got worried and took out a grenade with my left hand pealled the pin sticking that hand over the berm and the M-16 the dead Marine had in the same hole, and sat there until the sun peaked over the horizon. Later that day when I removed my vest. My friend pointed to a hole in my T-shirt where a bullet entered on my right chest and out through the sleeve.
I will have a full display of pictures of this and some of the other battles I covered at the display and I will set up at the gathering on 1 June 2013 at the Gritogether.
After that excitement, I thought everything else would be boring, NOT! I joined up with, I think 2-3 and we took off in a gaggle of CH-46's, (Well they fly like Geese. LOL) and headed for another mountain. Darn, I wish these guys would stay in the flat area, but no they like mountains. We landed in a place called "Helicopter Valley" after receiving lots of fire from the ground, a helicopter in front of us hit and broke apart, the starboard M-2 gunner gets hit in the chest plate and falls to the floor bleeding from his neck and the pucker factor went off the scale; as soon as our chopper landed, we ran off into a hail of incoming small arms fire. I stopped and looked up to the hills covered muzzle flashes, looked at my Brit. Correspondent with me yelling, "Limy, this looks just like ITR Training at Pendleton!" He yelled some obscenities at me, and I ran over jumping in the ditch with him. The trek up the mountain was really bad and when we finally made it to the top and secured the area it was a blessing.
In 1969, there were a few operations I do not remember. One because when I returned bragging to my troops about the award winning photos I just shot during processing the slides, I missed one of the fixer baths and hit the bleach which slowly reduced my fabulous pictures to clear film as I snuck a look at them. I just about destroyed the darkroom and caused my men to alert the security force thinking a sapper had infiltrated into the lab by the noise and yelling I was doing. I told them I wish one had, so I could take my anger for my screw up out on him.
Some of the more interesting assignments I had in Nam were with General Raymond G. Davis, the Commanding General of the 3rd. Mar. Div. He walked into my Photo Hooch one day and told me he wanted me for his personal Photographer. I told him I was his photographer as is all of my men. He said he wanted me, and to be ready at a moment's notice. A few days later his aide showed up at my door and said the General wants you in his chopper in 10 mikes with 2 cameras loaded. I arrived at the chopper that was running and hopped in, put on the headset and said good morning and asked what he wanted me to photograph. He told me I would know and just sit back and I will let you know when. We were flying about 20-30 feet off the deck, going north up a dirt road. When we crossed the river in the De-Mil Zone. I kind of cringed, then in my ear "start shooting". We arrived at large NVA build-up of tanks weapons and thousands of soldiers covering a few acres of ground. I started taking pictures using both cameras trying to ignore the pop, pop, pop, and seeing green tracers zipping by the chopper. I yelled out "I'm out of film Sir, let's go home!" We turned south and headed home along with a lot of green tracers.
Landing at the General's pad at Dong Ha the General walked up to me, reached out saying; "give me all the film you shot, SSgt. Shearer this didn't happen." My reply was, "Sir, what didn't happen?" This was the first of my assignments like this. I found out later that Congress didn't believe the NVA were massing up in the DMZ while the Peace Talks were going on and the General wanted to prove it, which we did. The year of 1969 was the same, a few Gen. Davis trips and one with Div. G-2 to prove again to Congress that the NVA are using Russian Helicopters. They wanted me to photograph them at night, well to make a long story short, the G-2 Colonel and I flew out to a post just south of the DMZ and waited until we saw and heard an aircraft coming from the north. All American aircraft had been grounded north of Dong Ha so it had to be from North Vietnam. I followed it to get a light pattern and it quickly turned toward us and did a low pass heading back north.
It was a Russian Mig. Later a few helicopters headed our way and I took some nice pictures of them and then the G-2 called in our ride and we headed back to Dong Ha. This proved to the idiots in the Senate that they were wrong again.
The last battle I covered was Operation Dewey Canyon joining up with Guess who? Yes… good ole 1-9. I was real paranoid all the time I was there as I was due to go home in a couple weeks. One Nine known as the walking dead, had 93 percemt casualties in that operation. I left the field and caught a CH-46 back to Phu Bai, boarded a big silver plane heading east to the land of the Big PX and Round Eyed Girls. I never relaxed until I was standing on the good ole Tierra Firma of MCB Camp Pendleton. Viet Nam was rough on me, I had bad PTSD because of the hundreds of Marines I befriended, photographed and later saw them killed and having to identify half of my ten man unit KIA after I sent them into combat. Every man had a Purple Heart, some had two or three
of them. I came home without a Purple Heart as I had no wound bad enough for one. Why, I don't know. It all has added up to a miserable experience and almost cost me my job and my life more times than I can remember.
In August, the Marine Corps sent me to the University of Southern California to get a degree in Motion Picture Production. In my Record book I was listed as a Stud. for student, and I tried to live up to that name, what a change from Viet Nam.
I was married in 1971 and transferred to Hawaii for 3 years. In 1975, we were notified that a H-53 Squadron, HMH-463 was assigned to go. I figured I had enough and said I would not make it, to make my new bride happy. The next day I went to the Photo Lab and the Captain told me to pack my gear as I am leaving tomorrow. I convinced my better half that it would not be a dangerous trip and left for Subic Bay, PI. I arrived as the Motion Picture and Still Documentation Team, with direct orders from the Commandant. Our first job was to fly into Phnom Penh, Cambodia, land in a soccer field and transport all Americans from the Embassy, Military Bases and any News Photographers that wanted to leave. About the time the choppers returned to pick up me and the security force which as my luck was, were B Co. 1st Bn. 9th Mar. The Communist Forces started hitting the far side of the field with mortars, which relaxed me a bit but scared the ground forces.
As the choppers landed in pairs the ground force ran aboard. Thirty-five on each bird and flew out to the ship. I was busy shooting film and taking pictures of the action all the time keeping an eye on the location of the mortar hits. This went on for a while, I was filming the front 53 as it lifted off then the other. I started to rewind my camera spring and noticed there were no more Marines in the
field, I was alone and the last two choppers were quickly disappearing in the distance. I totally forgot about the mortars and everything else except how in the heck will I get out of this city of death. All I had was a .45 cal 1911 and a box of 50 rounds, it was 128 miles to the coast and who knows where the ship would be.
About the time pure panic was about to set in as I thought about the spy photographs of the mass killing of thousands of Cambodians, I noticed a small spot trailing exhaust heading my way. When the 53 landed I ran behind it and as soon as the ramp lowered enough I dove on it, the crew chief grabbed me pulling me on as the ramp began closing I grabbed him and kissed him on the cheek yelling, "Thank You!" I walked up to the pilot Captain Porter and told him if he had shaved today I would kiss him, he just said that's all right, we need you for the Saigon operation.
I found out later that a Navy Photographer on the Carrier we were using took a picture of me filming and he told the Crew Chief I was still in the LZ. I broke one of the rules and almost paid dearly for it. A couple months later we flew into Saigon to do the same job, but it was a lot more stressing. After a couple weeks with little sleep we headed in while the NVA were shelling the city and shooting missiles at our choppers with no hits.
When I retired in 1980, Col. Gill, the head of the Marine Corps Photo Section at the Pentagon told me I was the best Photographer in the Marine Corps and best Marine Combat Photographer in the Viet Nam War, winning many awards. Combat Photographer of the year 1968, the Military News Film Photographer of the Year 1975. While at USC I was a photographer for the Campus Newspaper called the "Daily Trojan". No… it's not about birth control, USC was the Trojans Football Team. I won the California Intercollegiate Press Association's "Gold Press Card Award" for 1970, the first time USC ever received the award.
I retired from the Marine Corps as a Gunnery Sergeant after making Master Sergeant June 1980. I could not stay in the Corps any longer, my PTSD was going to ruin my career as the Marines knew nothing about PTSD back then. December 1980, I was hired at the Seal Beach Ordnance Depot to test Weapons and Munitions for the Marine Corps and U.S. Navy at Marine Corps Weapons Depot Fallbrook, CA, until 1985 when I transferred to Naval Weapons Station Point Mugu in Ventura, California, where I worked until 2001 testing Ships Missiles, bombs and CIWS mini guns.
Well I told you, you wouldn't believe this sh-t". LOL!
Donnie Shearer, GySgt USMC Retired
Combat Photographer Vietnam 1968-69 & '75