When The River Dreams: The Life of Marine Sgt. Freddy Gonzalez

Marine Sergeant Freddy Gonzalez took over as platoon commander before his company entered Hue City, and quickly found themselves surrounded by enemy forces trying to stop the Marines from entering the city, on Jan. 31, 1968, at the beginning of the horrific Tet Offensive. Over the course of the next three days he was wounded several times while saving fellow Marines and launching brave, deadly, solitary attacks on enemy positions. On the morning of Feb. 4, 1968, at the St. Joan of Arc Catholic Church, he fired a dozen rockets at North Vietnamese Army positions, saving the pinned-down platoon, giving his life for his men. He was the only man awarded the Medal of Honor for the month-long battle of Hue City--the most violent, intense fighting of the entire 10-year war.

Born in Edinburg, Texas, May 23, 1946, Freddy was the only child born to Dolia Gonzalez. She raised him alone on the wages of a waitress and a farm worker. He also worked in the fields during his youth, until graduating from high school and joining the Marine Corps in the summer of 1965. This is his story.

John W. Flores was born in Dallas, Texas, and grew up on a family farm located near Alvarado, Texas. He joined the U.S. Coast Guard after high school graduation and served a four-year enlistment at a search-and-rescue unit on Lake Pontchartrain, in New Orleans, Louisiana. After discharge, he attended the University of Texas at Austin and studied acting and playwriting, while working as a radio announcer and writer-- for the Texas General Land Office, and U.S. Senator Lloyd Bentsen. During a 10-year tour as a reporter, he worked for several newspapers including the Albuquerque Journal and The Dallas Morning News. His work has appeared in many national publications, including the Boston Globe, the Los Angeles Times, Houston Chronicle, Hispanic Magazine, Vietnam Magazine, and other military magazines. He has received several journalism awards, and was honored by the Texas Senate in May 2006, with Senate Resolution 168, citing his outstanding work as a reporter on a series of stories that resulted in his writing this book on Sgt. Gonzalez. He has also written a book about legendary South Texas oilman Lucien Flournoy, to be published soon. Flores lives with this wife, Rowena, in Albuquerque, NM.

Introduction:

Ten years ago near the South Texas city of Corpus Christi, Secretary of the Navy John Dalton attended the commissioning of a $1.5 billion warship named for Marine Corps Sergeant Alfredo Gonzalez -- a Medal of Honor recipient killed Feb. 4, 1968 during the Tet Offensive.

Sgt. Gonzalez, 21 when he died, was the only child of Mexican-American farm worker Dolia Gonzalez. He grew up in the small Rio Grande Valley town of Edinburg -- where his mother still lives. She stood beside Dalton on the towering ship's deck that sunny fall day as he addressed a crowd of thousands attending the commissioning.

"The namesake of this mighty warship was a true American hero. You know of his bravery and courage and leadership ... of his compassion and patriotism. But Sergeant Alfredo Gonzalez' greatest contribution was in capturing the essence of service," Dalton told the crowd.

"In his 21 short years, Freddy enjoyed a full life ... a life crammed with living in the deepest sense. And his life was all about service ... to quote Admiral Arleigh Burke at the commissioning of the first ship in this class: `This ship was built to fight ... you'd better know how.' Sergeant Freddy Gonzalez knew how."

When Dolia learned that retired Gen. William Westmoreland, 91, died peacefully at home Monday night, she remembered how chaotic and murky the Vietnam War seemed when her son died. Westmoreland was in command of all troops and operations in Vietnam in late 1967 and early 1968.

Though correct in most of his battelfield decisions, the brave and dedicated general was too slow recognizing the signs that a surprise attack was about to be launched by the Communist troops and Vietcong guerrillas in South Vietnamese cities. Instead of a cease fire during the Tet (Buddhist New Year) celebrations that began the end of January each year, the enemy took the offensive. Many Americans were killed as a result.

"I knew from Freddy's letters that things were getting tougher," Dolia says. "I could tell they were getting shot at more. He was getting ready for several days of vacation when the Vietnamese made their big attack. I'd just gotten a letter from him when I saw it on the news that day (the Tet Offensive). I was so upset when I saw that."

But Dolia never blamed Gen. Westmoreland, as some have, for troops being taken by surprise and overrun.

"He was a smart man I'm sure, but he probably made a mistake on that and later he wanted to send more and more troops into Vietnam to make up for the Tet Offensive and that really made a lot of people mad. After that, he was relieved of his job and send back to Washington," she said. "But I have the letter from Gen. Westmoreland, April 15, 1968, signed by him recommending Freddy for the Medal of Honor -- just two months after he died."

When he was just 10 years old, working as a waterboy in the fields with his mother, Freddy gained the reputation of a fighter. While giving water to an old woman one hot, humid, summer afternoon in a vast South Texas cotton field, he took the woman's hoe and chased after a rattlesnake -- chopping the head off and saving her from getting bitten. After that time, he would usually sweep the fields in front of the workers to make sure it was clear before they went on ahead.

Dolia says Freddy was a quiet, polite type of boy -- but he also often showed a rambunctious and scrappy side. He never started a fight, but never walked away from one either. She raised him alone -- the father left before Freddy was born -- and Freddy was always protective of her.

He once whipped a Golden Gloves champion after the much larger boy made a dirty comment about Dolia -- a fight witnessed by many of Freddy's friends who were all playing a game of basketball at the Edinburg city park near his home.

"We were in little league together, and worked together in the fields, picking cotton," says Robert Vela, who lives near Edinburg. "Freddy was the kind of a friend who would take the shirt off his back and give it to you if he had to ... but he didn't like showoffs or people with attitudes.

"One night we were playing basketball at Westside Park, and a guy we knew, a champion amateur boxer, came walking up with his boxing gloves hanging around his neck. He challenged anyone there to a fight."