Say His Name to Remember: CPL J.D. Walters

J.D. Walters was serving his country during the Vietnam War when he made the ultimate sacrifice in the line of duty. Having enlisted in the United States Marine Corps as part of the Regular Military, Walters began his tour on July 12, 1968. He held the rank of Corporal, with the military specialty of Rifleman, and was attached to the 1st Marine Division, 2nd Battalion, 5th Marines, E Company.

Born on December 27, 1946, Walters hailed from Dayton, Ohio, in Montgomery County. His service to his nation tragically ended on October 11, 1968, when he lost his life during hostile action as a result of an air crash on land. 

The following is a personal account of the collision by Frank Powell:

On October 11, 1968, two Marine helicopters, a CH-46 helicopter (#151917) from Marine Medium Helicopter Squadron 265 (HMM 265), and a UH-34 (#148802) from Marine Medium Helicopter Squadron 362 (HMM 362), were involved in a mid-air collision near Ha Nha along the north bank of Vu Gia River, 7 miles northwest of An Hoa in Quang Nam Province, RVN. Fourteen personnel were lost in the incident.  I was standing near the top of Hill 52 at the 3/7 CP. The CO and SGT MAJ of the arty battalion supporting us had gone down the hill to catch a ride on CH-46 (#151917) which was in the LZ just below. As they ran up the back ramp, the crew chief on the CH-46 motioned for them to get off. They turned around and departed the aircraft. I watched as the CH-46 took off, without any passengers, and began climbing out in a steep ascent with its nose pointing south toward An Hoa. It was a clear, sunny day with a few scattered clouds high in the sky. At about 800-1,000 feet, the CH-46 came up underneath a UH-34 (#148802) which was flying overhead on a similar heading. It appeared that each helicopter was in the other’s blind spot and that no visual contact had been made between them. I don't think the two fuselages actually collided, but they chewed off each other’s rotor blades. An orange fireball and black smoke erupted from the rear of the CH-46. A series of quick clacking sounds and a muffled explosion reached us on the ground as the blade parts were sent flying in every direction overhead. The two aircraft momentarily just hung there. Then the CH-46, its aft end burning and smoking, began tumbling end over end toward the ground. The UH-34 simply nosed over, the weight of the big radial engine in its nose causing it to plunge straight down like a dart. Clearly visible, standing at the open forward hatch of the CH-46, a crewman somehow managed to keep his position as the aircraft somersaulted downward. As the UH-34 hurtled down, I saw three passengers dive out the starboard loading hatch. One of them assumed a spread-eagle position, like a free-falling skydiver. The others just tumbled. Thunderous noises echoed across the valley floor as the aircraft impacted on a sandbar which extended out into the Vu Gia River. Thankfully, it was on our side of the river, the other side belonged to Charlie. The UH-34 hit first, sending up a towering eruption of bellowing fire, white smoke, and streaking shards of red flame. The CH-46 quickly followed, close by on the same stretch of sand. The aft section, with the engines, split away from the forward half of the aircraft and was a burning heap. Black greasy smoke plumed high into the sky. The forward section did not catch fire. I ran down to the crash site and found Marines from Mike Company, 3/7, pulling the bodies of the pilot, co-pilot, crew chief, and crewman out of the CH-46. Three crumpled bodies, those who dived out of the UH-34, rested on the sand in the immediate vicinity of the UH-34 wreckage. The Mike Company Marines spoke of a fourth individual who had dived out and had landed in the river. I could not verify it. The UH-34 was burning white hot, so intense that it was impossible to get near it. Within a few hours, the wreckage was reduced to a surprisingly small mound of gray ashes, making the retrieval or identification of human remains virtually impossible.

His tragic loss stands as a profound example of the devastation of war and the selfless willingness to sacrifice for a greater cause.