Uncle Bud got word that I was going to sent to Viet Nam and he decided that since his son David was to be going at the same time he would bring us together. I don’t think I totally realized the somberness of the occasion.

David Allen Scritchfield and I were raised in Buffalo NY together until my family moved away in 1960. Dave was tall and thin. Once when we were about 10 years old he had asked me to run away with him. I said no as I saw no reason to leave my Mom and Dad. We were cousins and came to each others birthday parties, spent some time together on the holidays, our parents partied together, and we often visited our grandparent’s farms at the same time. We played a lot of games and did many of those things together that first cousins often do.

His Dad drove him down to see our family with his brother Michael sometime in May or June 1967. I never let Uncle Bud how grateful I was in his bring Dave for our last meeting. I’m sure he knew it.

Dave and I went to a Big Boy restaurant and talked. He had joined the Marine Corp and he told me that he knew he would not be coming back alive. I expressed the feeling that I too would not be coming back but I don’t believe I was really convinced of that fact

From my diary:

I had pulled guard the night before so I was very tired and was fast asleep this morning. About 8AM I felt a hand on my shoulder and someone was shaking me awake. I was lying on my shoulder partly facing the plywood divider. I rolled over on my right shoulder and looking at the intruder said, What? He said to me, “Sutphin you got a phone call from the Red Cross.” I said “OK” and arose from the bed. I knew a message from the Red Cross was not likely to be good news. I knew that more than likely someone who I loved was at best, seriously injured or even dead.

As I walked out the door and through the compound my mind was thinking and I even started putting in place the order of my family members to which I would have to hear that they had died. From those who I hoped it was the least to those it would hurt me the most. It was hard to even contemplate any of them dying and I even felt guilty for thinking that way.

I enter the Battery office and there the First Sergeant was waiting for me. I said what was obvious to him that someone said I had received a phone call from the Red Cross. He pointed his pencil in the direction of the only phone in the room and said “You can take it from there”. As I turned to the waiting phone he just disappeared. I pick up the bulky receiver and placed it to my ear and said “Hello”. The male voice on the other end said “ Hello, is this Specialist Kenneth Sutphin?” I replied “Yes.” He said “I am from the Red Cross and I regret to inform you that your cousin, David Allen Scritchfield was killed on September 11 at Da Nang Vietnam.” I asked for details but he could provide few. less than a minute I put down the phone and proceeded back to my hooch.

I went back to my bed and sat at the edge contemplating what had just happened