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In                                    the memory of Frank Mebs

A                                    true American hero

FSB                                    Veghel - May 1970 to September 1971

Charlie Battery, 1/83, an 8"/175MM Battery                                    moved to Veghel on 23 May 1970. We spent the                                    first night at the base of the hill. One strand                                    of barbed wire surrounded the battery. At the                                    time we were an all 8 inch battery. The next                                    day we moved up to the top of Veghel. A 155                                    battery was near the center of the hill, a 105                                    battery occupied the knob just to the north                                    of the 155 battery and we moved to the arm a                                    hundred meters north of the 105 battery. There                                    were two landing pads, one north of us at the                                    end of the hill and a pent primed pad just east                                    of us on an arm of the hill with a steep gully                                    running between C battery and the landing pad.                                    The only structure we had was a two story building                                    the fire direction center on the bottom floor                                    and the TOC with the chief of smoke and his                                    runner were in the second story. Powder and                                    projectile bunkers, wooden pads for the guns                                    and burms were also in place. A deep trench                                    had been dug running the length of eastern perimeter,                                    this would hold our bunkers. We had no cover                                    so everyone slept wherever. I found a large                                    shed on wheels that the engineers used. It sat                                    high enough so that I could set up a cot under                                    the axle.

On May 27 I was asleep when there was a bright                                    flash, like someone had stuck a flash bulb in                                    my face. Several seconds later there was an                                    explosion followed by a lot of debris hitting                                    the shack I was sleeping under. All night long                                    guys were walking by my cot moving toward the                                    landing pad to our north to be medivacked. At                                    one point I just got back to sleep when one                                    of our officers, Whisky Bravo, woke me up. As                                    I sat up I hit my head on the axle of the shed                                    I was sleeping under. Whisky Bravo wanted to                                    make sure I was all right. Several of our cannon                                    cockers had been injured by flying debris. Piecing                                    it together I learned that an American mortar                                    platoon had fired a short round. It landed in                                    a large ammo dump in front of the 155s. Two                                    Cat D-6 bulldozers and about 20 guys tried to                                    put the fire out. At one point an officer told                                    everyone to cut and run for cover. One of the                                    bull dozer operators, Frank Mebs, stayed on                                    his dozer and continued to fight the fire. He                                    was blown up - no trace of him - parts of his                                    dozer came down all over the hill. One guy on                                    guard duty was killed. I firmly believe Frank                                    saved the lives of a lot folks on that hill                                    when his dozer took the entire force of the                                    blast. With all the shells and powder at the                                    155 location the blast from the explosion may                                    have started a chain reaction reaching the 105                                    battery and possibly our battery. The army told                                    the family only that he had been "blown                                    up" no details. It took me 30 years but                                    I finally tracked Frank's family down and told                                    them the real story. Frank's name is on the                                    "Wall" I visit him every time I go                                    to DC.

by Donald W. Aird

Story                                    written in the Philadelphia Reporter

For                                    30 years Bill Mebs avoided talking about his                                    oldest brother Frank, an Army private who dies                                    in Vietnam when the bulldozer he was driving                                    rolled onto an ammunition dump and exploded.                                    Frank was just two weeks away from going home                                    to Bucks County and his death was to painful                                    to remember.

For                                    the same 30 years, Don Aird just couldn't forget                                    that explosion. Not the strange boom that awoke                                    him May 27, 1970, as he slept underneath a truck                                    at Fire Support Base Veghel. Not the hot orange                                    flashes he could feel against his face. And                                    certainly not the sight of bulldozer parts,                                    wheels, pipes, shards of metal, raining on his                                    battalion. ?I still see the flash with my eyes                                    closed," he said, "It's still coming                                    back," I say "Here's that ammo dump                                    again."

Aird                                    didn't know Francis Martin Mebs, the 20 year                                    old man on the bulldozer. But he believed that                                    man had thwarted a fire that could have blown                                    away the 600 men stationed on that hill near                                    Hue. And he wanted so desperately to tell that                                    man's family. Tuesday, he did.

That                                    day, Bill Mebs got a letter from Aird saying                                    that the brother he lost died a hero.

It                                    was news to Mebs and his six remaining siblings,                                    who had long presumed that Frank Mebs' death                                    was just an accident they could not explain.

?I                                    accepted it," Bill Mebs said of his brother's                                    death, which was followed a year later by the                                    death of their grief-stricken mother. "But                                    I thought it was a waste, because he just got                                    blown up."

Aird                                    told the family there was more to Frank Mebs'                                    death. Mebs, an engineer in Company A of the                                    27th Engineer Battalion, was helping to contain                                    the fire, using his bulldozer to push dirt on                                    the burning heap of ammunition. He gave up his                                    life, but he saved others, Aird wrote.

"There                                    were three artillery batteries and a company                                    of infantry on that hill," he wrote. "I                                    think that if the dozer hadn't contained the                                    explosion, one or more of the artillery batteries                                    would have gone up, maybe even the whole hill."

Fire                                    Support Base Veghel, like hundreds of others,                                    was set up as a warehouse of ammunition and                                    manpower for American forces.

Click                                    here for information about Fire Support                                    Base Veghel

Aird                                    had arrived that week as a member of the First                                    Battalion of the 83rd Artillery. Already on                                    the hill were another artillery battalion, a                                    company of infantry and Frank Mebs' engineering                                    battalion. Mebs was a bulldozer operator, and                                    a proud one, his family said. Mebs, who left                                    Council Rock High School in 1966 to enlist,                                    wrote home nearly monthly, sending dozens of                                    photographs of the D-7 dozer that the Army entrusted                                    to his care.

Fire                                    support bases were common enemy targets, said                                    William Donnelly, a historian at the U.S. Army                                    Center of Military History in Washington. And                                    around 1 a.m. on May 27, 1970, the infantry                                    battalion at Veghel suspected that just such                                    an attack was under way.

Battalion                                    crews fired two mortar rounds, but did not fire                                    them with sufficient charge to reach their target,                                    according to archives of an army investigation                                    that labeled the incident "friendly fire."

The                                    rounds instead fell short and ignited an ammunition                                    dump on the hill.

The                                    engineering battalion leaped to action, trying                                    to contain the fire, according to documents                                    filed at the National Archives. Among them were                                    Frank Mebs and his bulldozer.

Twenty                                    minutes after the fire started raging, the shed                                    exploded, killing Mebs and Sgt Edward M. Miller,                                    who Aird said was hit by a piece of the bulldozer                                    debris.

Aird                                    heard the pieces hit the truck he was under,                                    and rushed to slide from under it to see what                                    had happened.

Everyone                                    around him was talking about the man on the                                    bulldozer.

The                                    potential for catastrophe was there. Aird's                                    artillery battalion alone had enough gunpowder                                    for 160 rounds for each of four guns. For one                                    type of gun, a round equaled 90 pounds of powder.                                    That alone had a "killing radius"                                    of 120 meters, or about 130 yards, Aird said.

"I                                    think this guy might have saved our lives,"                                    Aird, now 56, said last week in a telephone                                    interview from his Minneapolis home.

The                                    survivors decided they would find out the man's                                    name, his rank, and who his family was. But                                    they got sidetracked by the war, by the Army's                                    sealed records, and by distance.

The                                    Mebs family would know few of the details that                                    Aird would share three decades later.

Fred                                    Mebs remembers that May day 1970 when two Army                                    officers walked into the family's home in Newtown                                    Borough.

The                                    13 year old, who was in the front yard, leaned                                    toward the door to hear. They were talking about                                    Frank.

"They                                    told my mom and dad he was blown up on a dozer,"                                    Fred Mebs, 44, said last week.

Their                                    mother, Dorothy Elizabeth Mebs, died of an aneurysm                                    a year later on the anniversary of Frank's death.

The                                    family did not speak publicly about the death.                                    They kept Frank Mebs' Vietnam photographs. They                                    had an artist make oil paintings, one of which                                    hangs at Council Rock High School on a memorial                                    wall.

Each                                    year, the school commemorates students who fell                                    in the line of duty, said William Mauro, high                                    school assistant principal and Frank Mebs' gym                                    teacher. "The Mebses come every year,"                                    he said.

All                                    those years, Don Aird was searching. Without                                    a name to go on, getting information was very                                    hard. Aird tried the obvious routes: The Veterans                                    Administration, the Army.

"They                                    bump you from office to office until they run                                    you into a complete circle and then you get                                    so frustrated that you quit," said Aird,                                    now a public relations officer at the Minneapolis                                    office of the U.S. food and Drug Administration.

The                                    Internet eventually helped Aird do in weeks                                    what he could not for decades: reach veterans                                    across the country in discussion groups.

Aird                                    posted inquiries on several veterans Web sites.                                    One response pointed him in the right direction.

Aird                                    was told that the man operating a bulldozer                                    must have been an engineer, then the Internet                                    source located the only engineer he could find                                    who died on that date and in that area.

When                                    Aird got Mebs' name, he started calling all                                    the Mebses he could find. The first call was                                    July 5, to Deanna Mebs, ex-wife of Frank Mebs'                                    brother Martin. He left a message on the machine                                    saying he was looking for the family of Frank                                    Mebs, but left no number.

He                                    called Bill Mebs' home July7, asking for the                                    family's address. Bill Mebs' 15 year old daughter                                    dutifully dispensed it to the stranger, initially                                    to her parents' dismay.

Finally                                    on Tuesday, the letter ame. It told a tale that                                    the Mebses are still too shocked to absorb.

"I                                    was crying until the end," Bill Mebs said.

Fred                                    Mebs has yet to read it, his hands shake when                                    he holds Aird's letter.

Fred                                    sat in Bill's kitchen last week, while Fred's                                    fiancée, Midge Grabowski, helped him                                    manage the bittersweet tears.

"Now                                    the family knows that his death was due to a                                    hero's effort," Grabowski said. "And                                    not just...." She paused for words. "Blown                                    up." Bill said.

To view the original                                    newspaper clippings just click on the pictures                                    below to enlarge

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