give 'em hell

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In early January 1969, CPT Howard C. Lewis ’66 arrived to his duty assignment just north of Saigon, Vietnam, and immediately began writing home. During his yearlong tour, he would send 180 letters back to the States, more than half to his young wife, Sandy, and the rest to his parents, his twin brother, Harold “Hal” Lewis, and Hal’s wife, Clyde. When Howard wrote these letters, he was 25 years old, a new father. His youngest brother, Donald Lewis ’72, whom he affectionately refers to as “The Mutt,” was a cadet at Norwich University. Howard wrote with no lofty pretense—he couldn’t have guessed that his words would be published in the Record nearly half a century later. Written in the safety of intimacy, the missives are intensely personal, revealing the heart of a young man struggling with how, and how much, to disclose of what he has seen and experienced to the people he loves. Taken as a whole, the letters bring to light a gripping account of war, told as it is unfolding, from in-country. The Norwich Record is honored to present this selection of Howard’s letters from Vietnam. Cadet Corporals Howard Lewis ’66 (right) and identical twin Harold “Hal” Lewis at their family home in Melvin Village, N.H. Hal attended Norwich University alongside Howard through their sophomore year, but left the University when health problems prevented him from continuing with ROTC. Letters from Vietnam By the late LTC Howard C. Lewis ’66

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Page 1: Give 'em hell

NORWICH RECORD | W INTER 201524

In early January 1969, CPT Howard C. Lewis ’66 arrived to his duty assignment just north of Saigon, Vietnam, and immediately began writing home. During his yearlong tour, he would send 180 letters back to the States, more than half to his young wife, Sandy, and the rest to his parents, his twin brother, Harold “Hal” Lewis, and Hal’s wife, Clyde. When Howard wrote these letters, he was 25 years old, a new father. His youngest brother, Donald Lewis ’72, whom he affectionately refers to as “The Mutt,” was a cadet at Norwich University. Howard wrote with no lofty pretense—he couldn’t have guessed that his words would be published in the Record nearly half a century later.

Written in the safety of intimacy, the missives are intensely personal, revealing the heart of a young man struggling with how, and how much, to disclose of what he has seen and experienced to the people he loves. Taken as a whole, the letters bring to light a gripping account of war, told as it is unfolding, from in-country.

The Norwich Record is honored to present this selection of Howard’s letters from Vietnam.

Cadet Corporals Howard Lewis ’66 (right) and identical twin Harold “Hal” Lewis at their family home in Melvin Village, N.H. Hal attended Norwich University alongside Howard through their sophomore year, but left the University when health problems prevented him from continuing with ROTC.

Letters from VietnamBy the late LTC Howard C. Lewis ’66

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NORWICH RECORD | W INTER 201524

In early January 1969, CPT Howard C. Lewis ’66 arrived to his duty assignment just north of Saigon, Vietnam, and immediately began writing home. During his yearlong tour, he would send 180 letters back to the States, more than half to his young wife, Sandy, and the rest to his parents, his twin brother, Harold “Hal” Lewis, and Hal’s wife, Clyde. When Howard wrote these letters, he was 25 years old, a new father. His youngest brother, Donald Lewis ’72, whom he affectionately refers to as “The Mutt,” was a cadet at Norwich University. Howard wrote with no lofty pretense—he couldn’t have guessed that his words would be published in the Record nearly half a century later.

Written in the safety of intimacy, the missives are intensely personal, revealing the heart of a young man struggling with how, and how much, to disclose of what he has seen and experienced to the people he loves. Taken as a whole, the letters bring to light a gripping account of war, told as it is unfolding, from in-country.

The Norwich Record is honored to present this selection of Howard’s letters from Vietnam.

Cadet Corporals Howard Lewis ’66 (right) and identical twin Harold “Hal” Lewis at their family home in Melvin Village, N.H. Hal attended Norwich University alongside Howard through their sophomore year, but left the University when health problems prevented him from continuing with ROTC.

Letters from VietnamBy the late LTC Howard C. Lewis ’66

Page 3: Give 'em hell

Donald Lewis ’72 (right) has been an instrumental collaborator, providing letters, photos, and memories that give a glimpse into the life of his older brother, the late Howard Lewis ’66, during Howard’s 1969 tour in Vietnam. On November 12, 2014, Don and his wife, Meredith, visited the Norwich University Archives to donate the complete collection of letters Howard wrote his parents from Southeast Asia. Howard’s twin, Harold “Hal” Lewis (who also attended Norwich), has also donated the letters he received from his brother in 1969.

Grateful acknowledgement to Harold ’66 and Clyde Lewis, Donald ’72 and Meredith Lewis, and Sandra Lewis for sharing the letters, photos and memorabilia included in this story.

25WINTER 2015 | NORWICH RECORD

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The Lewis brothers with their sweethearts in front of Sabine Field, graduation day 1966. Pictured (l-r): Hal Lewis and his wife Clyde, Don Lewis ’72, Sandra Roscoe (soon-to-be Lewis), and Howard Lewis ’66.

At the beginning of Howard’s Vietnam tour, his twin brother, Harold “Hal” Lewis, and Hal’s wife, Clyde, were living in Montpelier. “The Mutt” is their youngest brother, Donald Lewis ’72, then a cadet at Norwich University.

Friday, 10 Jan 69Dear Hal, Clyde, & Mutt,

Have arrived safely and am trying to get settled and back to work again. Have been assigned to the 2nd Battalion, 34th Armor, part of the 25th Infantry Division. We are located just north of Saigon now. I am the assistant S-3 for the Battalion until my feet are on the ground. We’ll be joining the S-3 section just outside of base camp tomorrow. The section is located at a fire support base about 5 miles out. Both areas are secure so no trouble from Charlie is expected. Charlie is fairly quiet now, getting ready for Tet, same as last year. Then we expect all hell to break loose.

The weather is real hot and humid; haven’t quite got used to it yet but almost.

There is always something going on here. Helicopters in and out all the time, artillery firing keeping Charlie honest, and tanks moving. We are set up in a defense now, with ambush patrols going out. Not much contact lately.

Nothing else going on. Write when you get a chance.

Love, Me

For the rest of the year, with few exceptions, Howard begins his letters to Hal and Clyde with “Hi There.” His reference “the expectant mother” is to Clyde, who is due later in the summer, and “The Imp” refers to his daughter, Donna, who was less than a year old when Howard shipped off to Vietnam. This was one of Howard’s longer letters, and we omitted a portion for space, noted with … .

Sunday, 19 Jan 69 2045 hoursHi There,

Since writing last I have had a change in jobs. I am now the S-2 for the [battalion]. Have my own vehicles, jeep & truck, and staff, four men. The S-2 takes care of all intelligence and advises when and where to try to get Charlie. Am trying now to set up a ring of agents to tell me when Charlie will be in various locations and what he is doing. I was on the road all the time until my jeep went into maintenance today. Got my first real taste of this dirty little war this morning. Was heading out of the fire support base (FSB) this morn-ing as usual and there was a 3/4-ton coming in. Just as I got 10 feet from the 3/4-ton, it hit a mine Charlie had planted on the road. Natu-rally my jeep was involved. We crashed head-on because the 3/4 was thrown into us. We both came to a sudden stop. My driver & I went through the windshield and my poor jeep is now in maintenance.

“Ya see things here that will never leave you. Good men blown to hell. I’m scared. This dirty war will end some day but can never be forgotten.”

NORWICH RECORD | W INTER 201526

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The passenger in the 3/4 was hurt real bad, lost a leg and almost died before we gave him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation; after that he came to and wanted to know how his buddy was, the driver, and said he wished I was a beautiful blonde. J Both men were “dusted off” helicopter air evac, and both will live. What a hell of a way to get home. The driver had head injuries & was in shock, will be OK after a while. The good Lord didn’t see fit to have my jeep hit the mine so guess he doesn’t want me just yet. My driver & I are OK, will have a couple little scars on my forehead, mainly; thank god for steel helmets. OK, I like my job. I’m a professional soldier, and it’s the same chance anyone takes driving into Boston traffic. Don’t get shook and please don’t say anything to Sandy, or anyone for that matter. I have to tell someone the dirty part of this damn war and you are elected. After it’s told I can forget it, but not until.

Ya know, one of the things I enjoy most here is going to church. Ya, that sounds funny because we never were much for church but there seems to be real meaning in it here. Close to your maker or something like that. The chaplain comes out every Sunday and I never miss.

We are subject to attack either by mortar fire or on the ground here all the time. Charlie is getting his shit together now for his big Tet offensive. This intelligence work is great because it’s my job to know what he is doing.

…Hey, I’m starting on the fifth page. Enough of this BS. Have to

write to Sandy yet and this pen may run out of ink. I’d appreciate it if you don’t say anything gory to Sandy, no sense getting her all worked up. When you get a chance drop in and see her & the imp.

Take good care of the expectant mother and tell the Mutt to give ’em hell. Hope you have a great time in California.

Much Love, Me

Howard penned this letter to Sandy 45 minutes after the above letter to Hal. In an effort to protect his wife, he tells her that all is well, a stark contrast to the details he provides his brother.

Sunday, 19 Jan 69 2130 hoursHi Honey,

First off let me say that I love you, second let me say that I miss you, and third that how is the imp?

Fairly quiet day today, I go to church every Sunday and feel real good about going. The chaplain comes out about 1600 and I take an hour off. J

Really like the new job, trying to outguess Charlie and having a little luck. The patrol makes contact quite a bit and most always gets a couple. No one from this unit hurt so we come out on top all the way around.

Our artillery is firing tonight and the damn gun sounds like it’s right next to my bunker. I jump every time. Oh well, maybe they will quiet down a little later on.

Howard Lewis in-country sometime in 1969, likely at Fire Support Base Crockett.

Through the course of the year, Howard was cited for bravery on seven different occasions and received five Bronze Star Awards, a blatant indication of the heavy combat situations he endured.

27WINTER 2015 | NORWICH RECORD

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The people here are something different. We are asking them to advance 500 years in a period of 5 or more years. They go about their business working with ancient hand tools while we build modern roads and bridges while Charlie tries to tear up the roads and blow up the bridges. Most of the peasants can’t read or write…, al-though they send their children to school. The class structure is real prevalent and you can tell different people by the clothes they wear. The rich wear silk or something like it while the poor are in rags.

Do you want me to try and send you some material or not? If you do I’ll see what I can dig up. Anything else you want just say so and I’ll see what I can do. Prices are very good here and you can buy most anything very cheaply.

Must make one last check of everything before hitting the sack.

I love you so much.

All my love, Me

“The Folkses” are Howard’s parents, Daniel and Dorothy Lewis, in Melvin Village, N.H. Don Lewis ’72 told us that Howard took great care not to alarm his parents, hence his attempts to downplay the volatile climate.

Friday, 24 Jan 69Hi Folkses,

Received your letter Wed. It sure was good to hear from you. Sorry to hear you both had the bug, guess I moved out just in time to get away from it.

The large cities or villages around us are: [see hand-drawn map].

We are sitting right in the middle of one of Charlie’s main sup-ply and movement routes to Saigon. During Tet last year Charlie took the area between Phú Hòa Đông and Củ Chi. We are in Phú Hòa Đông on a 10-day operation trying to clean it out and deny Charlie this route. The 25th Inf. Div. base camp is in Củ Chi while the bulk of the 2/34’s headquarters is located at Fire Support Base (FSB) Crockett. There are many small hamlets all over the area; I have just shown the large villages in the area.

Don’t know as I told you that I am now the S-2 for the battal-ion; it’s an intelligence slot, one of the 5 staff positions. Pretty good job. I like it and get to know everything that goes on in the battalion and the brigade we are in. OK, the units from lower to higher go: Company à Battalion à Brigade à Division, and higher. We are part of the 25th Inf. Div., assigned to the 2nd Brigade.

I live in a bunker made out of ammo boxes filled with dirt, the roof is culvert materials covered with sand bags, and the whole outside is covered with as many layers of sand bags as you care to fill. We have electricity supplied by generators but the showers and water are problems. We fill a 55-gallon drum with water, let the sun warm it all day and use it for showers at night. It has a shower head

“Hope this is over by the time the Mutt has to go in.” ~ Howard, referring to younger brother Don Lewis ’72, then a Norwich cadet.

Norwich commencement and commissioning, 1972. Pictured (l-r) Howard Lewis ’66, Donald Lewis ’72, parents Dorothy and Daniel Lewis, and Hal Lewis. That same day, Howard, in full uniform, gave his younger brother his first salute. A peace symbol is painted onto the tree behind the elder Lewis.

28 NORWICH RECORD | W INTER 2015

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on the bottom. Man is that cold shower welcome; the dust and heat really make you grubby and a little cleanup is welcome. The facili-ties are outhouses and tubes (pipes put into the ground) and your aim must be good if all you have to do is “one it.” To do #2, then the outhouse (1/2 55-gal drum with a seat on top generally in an open area) must be used. Great, but very useful after the urge gets powerful enough. J

Guess that’s about it. It is hard to tell exactly what my day is like here, if I wrote everything I’m afraid I’d scare the wits out of you. Always carry a loaded weapon, watch for mines on the road, and never know when the “friendly civilian” will turn on you and drop a grenade in your lap. Now it’s not really that bad but when I put it in writing it sounds bad. You see.

Don’t worry. I’m gifted with a long life. J

Write when you get the chance.

Love, Me

As Howard’s tour ramps up in 1969, the war is fast reaching peak escalation.

On Sunday, February 23, he writes to his parents, apologizing for missing his father’s birthday.

“Feel like a heel, not remembering it. Didn’t even remember a card. I’m sorry. Can’t even keep track of the weekdays let alone which month this is.”

He also mentions his recent bunker guests: Norwich men Dave Burbank ’66 and Dick Lovisone ’64.

“Dave commands Hq. Co. and Dick used to command the A Co. Dick has just returned from R&R in Hawaii and is now taking the assistant S-3 job.”

Toward the end of the letter, his writing takes a chilling turn.

“Some friendly artillery hit a village last night. Killed one boy and wounded 5 others. One little girl about the same age as Donna, poor little thing. Really hits home when innocent kids get hit like that. All 5 will be all right but that doesn’t make up for the look on their faces. The sooner we get GD Charlie the better.”

A couple of weeks later, in another letter to his parents, Howard references some recent news reporting on the war from clippings his in-laws had sent him. “I was so mad, the damn papers make it sound like we are getting beat. If I quoted the figures of enemy they said we faced it would be completely out of line with the facts. The damn sensationalism reporting is all wet. Believe about 1/3 of what the papers say.”

In his next letter to Sandy, unable to bear his conscience any longer, he begins to tell her the truth about what’s happening in-country.

“Am a peace-loving individual and don’t like to look for fights.”

While Howard said he felt like a “heel” for forgetting his father’s birthday, he was sure to remember Father’s Day.

“I’m keeping my head down. Don’t worry, this is my job.”

29WINTER 2015 | NORWICH RECORD

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Tuesday, 25 March 69 2115 hoursHi Honey,

Happy Birthday! My day here is almost over and yours is just starting. Can’t decide whether or not to tell you what happened today.

OK, we have been in a fire-fight all day, NVA troops sprung an ambush on one of the convoys and we went to react and got caught in another set for us. Had only three slightly wounded, thank God, and killed 10 and got 2 POWs. Don’t know how this is affecting you; that worries me. Have had a guilty conscience keeping this stuff from you. Enough, we all made it and ready to go. It was the worst one so far. I’ll never get used to being shot at.

How was your birthday, what did you do and get, etc.? I still haven’t got back into Củ Chi to mail your package so it will be late. Please forgive the lateness, have been very busy here. Those pictures of Donna are great but how about more of you. After all you are my first love. J I miss ya so, it is real good to see you. Not much else to say.

Miss ya something awful, love you so much. All my love, Me

On Wednesday, 21 May, 1969, Howard writes to Hal and Clyde. Congratulating Hal on his new job, he says “Keep me posted as to what you are doing, how you like the job, etc. Very interested in how you civilian types make a go of it. I’ll be joining the ranks soon.” He goes on to tell them about an NCO in his unit who is suffering from combat fatigue. “Real good man, Sgt. E-5, but he has been too long on line and has seen too much.”

Three days later, Howard breaks with his own convention and addresses a letter only to Hal, calling his twin by name.

Friday 24 May, 1969 2030 hoursHi Hal,

I am writing again because you are the only one I can tell.

Lost five people today. We were on a RIF (recon in force) and I had my recon plt. on the ground walking in front of the tanks. It was real thick shit so I never put tanks in first; they can’t see enough and may get wiped out when Charlie pops out of his hole. Lt. Bill Moore was leading his plt. when he tripped a 105 MM booby-trapped round that we find all the time. It killed Sgt. Brown, TC (track commander) of 33, blew Bill’s radio operator’s right [leg] off and both of Bill’s legs off. Bill has been in surgery since 1300 and still isn’t out yet. God, I hope he makes it. Before the dust-off came in (med-evac helicopters) he found out about his legs and asked the medic to let him die. If he does—it just doesn’t pay over here to make friends. If I ever catch that little man planting a mine or booby trap, I won’t kill him, I’ll cut him into little pieces and each piece thinks of MSG Chase, SSG Wai, SP/4 Gregger, two tankers that I don’t even know their name, Sgt. Cook, Sgt. Brown and everyone else that has been wounded. …It’s hard to cry, even harder to lose good men and a lieutenant.

Sorry but you’re the only one I can tell. Love, Me

“I’ll never get used to being shot at.”

Howard’s Christmas card to his family, in which he writes, “Hope to see you before Christmas, all is well, Love, Me.”

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Six days later, Howard writes to Sandy. He tells her about a new radio in his bunker and a book he’d read. His tone is weary, guarded. He mentions that Lt. Bill Moore had been wounded and airlifted to Japan, but makes no mention of the severity of Moore’s injuries or the five killed soldiers. He closes with an attempt at a lighthearted quip about their upcoming planned trip to Hawaii for his R&R, saying he may just sleep the whole time. “Miss you so honey,” he writes, “Love you more than can say. All my love, Me.”

A month and a half later, on July 14, Howard sends a letter to Hal and Clyde, who have relocated from Montpelier so Hal could take a job in Lexington, Mass. Clyde is nearly due to deliver their first child, to which Howard jokes, “you better not have a boy!” (referencing their tendency to do everything the same).

Wednesday, 23 July 69Hi Honey,

Another day gone and a little closer to seeing you. Every time I count the days it still seems so far off that it will never get here.

Don’t think I have thanked you for the last package with the pale brownies. J They were great and, naturally, didn’t last long. Can’t sit here and eat in front of everyone and like to give ’em a taste of home cooking anyway. They all wish they had a wife just like mine. J

Received your letter and one from my folks today. They in-cluded a picture of Donna and Dad “working” in the garden in front of the motel. She is really quite the little lady. Wish I was there to watch her grow up. Oh well. Guess I’ll have to start from scratch when I get home. She won’t remember me. L

You asked for a location. The nearest large village is Tây Ninh; it’s the second largest city in the country so should be on most maps. It’s north-west of Saigon, relatively close to the border. Don’t know what kind of a map you have but the mountain, Núi Bà Đen, is two thousand meters to the south of our current location. When you get this letter we will have moved 20,000 meters due east to start a new cut. We should be done with this whole operation on the 9th of Aug. No one seems to know for sure what we will be doing after that. We are all hoping that they send us back to Củ Chi for a little stand-down. The troops are beginning to show signs of fatigue and badly need the rest. Oh well.

Ya know, it’s hard to believe that it is summer where you are now. The good times we had during the summer and here we are.

Well, number one wife. Guess that’s all the new and interesting things from VN. Miss you so, keep your chin up. Love you so much it hurts.

All my love, Me

P.S. Common expression used by GIs and ARVNs due to lan-guage barrier. Anything real good, outstanding, exceptional, is “num-ber one.” Anything bad, undesirable, or not wanted is “number ten.”

About a month after this June 1969 photo, Howard wrote to his wife Sandy about their daughter, Donna: “She is really quite the little lady. Wish I was there to watch her grow up.”

Howard received his long-awaited R&R, which had kept getting postponed, in September 1969, and met Sandy in Hawaii.

“Must get some sleep, haven’t had but 10 hours in the past four days. Am about exhausted. R&R, you, and sleep can’t come soon enough.”

31WINTER 2015 | NORWICH RECORD

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Howard jokingly called his identical twin Hal a “traitor” for having a son as his firstborn child, when Howard’s firstborn had been a daughter. He continued that he was “completely overjoyed” that Hal “broke the tradition” of them doing everything the same for nearly 26 years. Pictured (l-r) Hal, Daniel, and Uncle Don Lewis ’72.

“Panty raid at Norwich, huh? Hope the Mutt didn’t get caught.”

Howard sends this letter to Hal and Clyde upon receiving news of the birth of his nephew.

Wednesday, 30 July 1969 2045 hoursYou Traitor,

I haven’t got much to say to a guy, and his wife, that will break the tradition and then have the gall to be happy about it. Where we have been doing things the same for almost 26 years and you go and screw it up. Furthermore, Daniel was one of the names I had picked out and couldn’t use it. Now that you know that I am completely overjoyed that you broke the tradition, let me say that Clyde having a “boy” is the best news I’ve heard since I’ve been in Nam. And believe me good news here doesn’t come very often. J

8 lb, 5 oz – GOD! All grown up. J

Sandy wrote and told me today.

We are still cutting this damn jungle. Will be done with this mission in 10 days then hope to go to Củ Chi for a rest. Hope to get at least a couple of days break—have been in the field for 45 days straight. It sure will be good to relax with about 100 beers and no immediate worries about Sir Charlie.

Must get going. Getting late and have to at least attempt to get some sleep tonight.

Take good care of the little woman and the little-one.

Give ’em hell.

Love, Uncle Me

Howard’s letters to Hal and Clyde taper off at about this time. In September, after many postponements, he receives his long-awaited R&R, and meets Sandy in Hawaii. Sandy sends a postcard to Harold’s parents (see page 31).

Too soon, Howard bids farewell to his sweetheart and is back in Vietnam.

Tuesday, 11 November 1969 2000 hoursHi There,

OK, I owe you two letters so here is one. J

Hey—tell Clyde that Dannie really did look like a Swede bas-ketball but he is cute too. Don’t take offense. Every time I see a baby here I think of Donna and Dannie.

Not a heck of a lot new over here. The dry season is on its way and the dust is getting real thick again. Heat is terrific—am going to freeze when I get home. The nights here are pretty cool (cold) at 70 degrees and I start shivering in the morning before the sun comes up. Snow will be so good but I’ll be so bundled up I won’t be able to move. J

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An “Exceptionally Fine Man”In one of the last letters Howard Lewis ’66 sent from Vietnam to his twin brother Hal, he mused on what he might do after arriving home. “Oh well. Will do something,” Howard wrote. He certainly did do more than just “something.” The decorated war veteran spent the rest of his life in service. In 1970, he joined the Vermont National Guard, serving as S-1 and S-3 of the 86th Brigade and commander of the First Battalion of the 172nd Armor. Settling in Barre with Sandy and their daughter Donna—a son, David, would come along in 1971—he served as a Cub Scout leader and coached the Spaulding High School rifle team. He was active in his church and in many veterans’ organizations. He rose to the rank of lieutenant colonel in the VNG. In August 1987 at age 43, Howard died of cancer, the result, his family believes, of his exposure to Agent Orange. More than 500 people attended his memorial service in what the Barre-Montpelier Times Argus called “one of the largest funerals ever held in the Granite City.” Just over a year later, a more intimate group gathered at the Camp Ethan Allen Firing Range in Jericho for the dedication of the LTC Howard C. Lewis Chapel. The Times Argus story and chapel dedication program ran summaries of Howard’s service commendations: seven citations for bravery, with decorations including the Soldiers Medal, five Bronze Stars, the Army Air Medal, two Army Commendation Medals (one with “V” for valor), the Republic of Vietnam Campaign Medal, the Vermont National Guard Medal of Merit, and many service ribbons. But it wasn’t what he did that made people love him—it was who he was. Howard’s letters reveal many noble qualities that he would have surely been too modest to admit: he was humble, compassionate, self-reflective. He placed others before himself. Even under extreme and prolonged wartime stress, Howard remained an unbreakable soul, immune to bitterness, and with unwavering devotion to those he loved. We can all learn a little something from Howard Lewis.

WINTER 2015 | NORWICH RECORD 33

Have 48 days left, without a Christmas drop in this Army. My orders say I’m to be at Oakland, Calif. for out-processing no later than 29 December. Hope to get a drop and be home for the holidays. Am going to stop in LA to see a friend on the way home. He’s the last friend left that hasn’t been killed. Cpt. Mike Anderson & I have been through a lot together and I’ll be too close in Calif. not to stop and say “Hi.” Don Dwiggins was killed three days ago by a mine. [He was] one of the best West Pointers, just took over A Co. a day ago, and just off R&R in Hawaii. Not worth it. Oh well.

Am real interested in finding a job but don’t want to sit behind a desk. Would like to go into business myself but don’t know what. Oh well. Will do something.

Guess that’s it for now. It’s beginning to look like I’ll make it. See you soon. Time is going awful slow.

Be good, take care of all. Give ’em hell.

Love, Me

Howard Lewis did make it home, but he never left the armed services. In 1970, he joined the Vermont National Guard and went on to a distinguished career, eventually rising to the rank of lieutenant colonel. He and Sandy had son David in 1971. At age 42, Howard was diagnosed with melanoma and succumbed after a yearlong battle. In the weeks before Howard’s death, he received a letter from MG Reginald Cram ’36, who told him, “You’re an exceptionally fine man, and I’m not just referring to your qualifications as an officer. … What I really am talking about is the whole man, including the father and husband that you are. You make me proud of being a Norwich graduate.”

A chapel at Camp Ethan Allen in Jericho, Vermont, was erected in Howard’s honor.