My name is Kristine Blanksma and my father was 28 years old when he was killed in Khe Sanh, South Vietnam on October 15th, 1967. I was only 3 months old. He had a dream. A dream to fly airplanes. In order to make this a reality he attended college, received his engineer degree and enlisted in the U.S. A. F. Not soon after enlisting he received his shipping orders, 1st stop Tennessee , where he would complete his C130 training, and then Vietnam. My mother was pregnant! After delivering a healthy baby girl, he was able to come home. Three days later he returned to Vietnam. While most kids brag about their family scrapbooks, I only had enough pictures to complete 1 page.

At 0650 hours a C130E aircraft, tail #64-0548 departed for the Marine Base at Khe Sanh to perform a volunteer Emergency Re-supply Mission. The large aircraft otherwise known as The Hercules, was filled with plats of containers that would be air dropped from the back of the plane at a low altitude. The NVA (North Vietnamese) had surrounded Khe Sanh and the only way to supply the men with food, ammunition, sandbags used for protection, and mail was by the USAF C-130's. The 7 men on board were warned of poor weather conditions, however, still volunteered. No one really knows what went wrong. Up until this summer my mother and I knew nothing regarding what happened: sealed documents, sealed military information, and certainly not even a clue as to where to start to look. Thanks to much perseverance and many brave men as of this summer we know now the whole truth. Although at times the information was extremely painful and almost more than I could bare I am very thankful. Jose Munoz was there that day. He heard the crash and was one of about 50 Marines that ran to the airstrip. The nightmares he has still haunt him. He remembers seeing the plane split in half and pieces of the plane scattered on the runway. He can still hear the loud bang from the plane bursting into a bundle of flames. He can vividly remember the men still alive fighting to get out of the tail of the plane. In particular, he describes the co-pilot; not realizing it was my father. His legs were crushed and he was trapped in the cockpit. The Marines tried to help and gave him a gas mask. However, they were unsuccessful. He remembers seeing a man with severe head wounds run back to the plane to try to help the men trapped but he was pulled back for his safety. The co-pilot bowed his head as if praying and was engulfed in flames. Six out of seven heroes were lost that day.

My mother was washing dishes at the kitchen sink when she saw the military car pull up in her driveway. It was every wives nightmare. She could not here their words over her sobs, she didn't need too... she knew her husband was dead. The only thing she remembered hearing was that there was not even a body to send; they would provide her a clean uniform if she wished.

Many people ask me to share with them the emotions I went through growing up: Denial...I waited for many years for him to come running up the drive way and surprise me for my birthday party..I used to pray he was missing in action or a prisoner or war!! Anger...I hated the fact that he left my mother and me and I hated the government for starting a war in which there were no winners. I was angry with the Great Divine, God, who was supposed to be there to save his life... and I hated that I looked enough like him that I was a constant reminder to my mother of a love lost.

Sadness... Time does not heal all. Col. James Morgan helped on many occasions to give me the strength to continue to find the answers I had set out to find. He often quoted from an English poet, Richard Lovelace, "I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honour more." He encouraged me to honor his death but yet celebrate my father's life. He also said, "Don't let anyone tell you to get on with your life or forget about the past. Continue to cry, continue to honor and don't ever forget because the sacrifice was to great!"

Respect...Understanding what it meant to him to serve his country. Understanding that he knew exactly how dangerous his mission was, and that these men fought under extreme circumstances. Understanding the only way they mentally survived was that they truly believed they were fighting to make a difference for the future of the people and the family they left behind. I read something once and it helped me understand; it said: "We went. We didn't ask why.. our country called and we were proud."

HONOR...They were young,, they were full of energy and they had dreams. For many it is a day filled with memories, some wonderful and some horrific. On November 11th, and probably not a day goes by that they don't think about the time they wore their uniform, the good and the bad. They have concerns for the past and they have even more concerns for the future. In his memory I have decided to speak for those that are unable.

I have joined the American Legion (I get to just be with other veterans) and a group called Sons and Daughters in Touch, (other children who have lost parents). I was able to share my story at the traveling replica of the Vietnam Wall that holds all the names of those lost in Vietnam. I have spoken at several Veterans Day programs and High Schools. I do this because it helps me make sure that nobody forgets the heroes that did truly make a difference ...OUR VETERANS. I read something on the Internet last night it said: All Gave SOME...SOME GAVE ALL!

In America Freedom and Values have come at a high price. In Vietnam alone over 58,000 people died. We need to understand that they believed in what they were doing and that they felt being in Vietnam was the right thing to do. We might not understand it but it is important that we respect it. I had a tragic loss...my dad!! There were mothers that lost sons and daughters, fathers that lost friends, wives that lost soul mates, and children that lost fathers.

Col. Joseph L. Hannah lost six friends that day. He was the lone survivor of the crash of 10-15-67. The scar on his scull left from a severe head wound and 200 stitches are nothing in comparison to the scars on his heart. He could have gone home that day, but chose not to quit. He continued to serve his country until his retirement last year.

Now that you know the story of 7 heroes and the sacrifices our families have made to protect the freedom we have today. I hope that when you look at the American flag you will stand a little taller. Maybe when you hear the star spangled banner you'll think of the many veterans that served and are serving today our country.

Living in America is an act of grace. We are either born here, immigrated here, or have become a citizen. It is a country that gives us the gift of freedom. Any true gift is a responsibility... a responsibility to be a good citizen, get an education, be honorable, and to make a difference. Our Veterans have given us this gift. What will you do individually for those that have done so much for you? Will you as recipients of this gift live up to it... I think as Americans you will.

You never had the chance to rock me to sleep,
Because you went back to Vietnam when I was only three weeks.

You never had the chance to hold my hand,
Or to help me build sand castles in the sand.

You never had the chance to swing, slide and play,
Or to teach me at bedtime just how to pray.

You never had the chance to sing me your favorite Patsy Cline song,
Or to say ,"I'll always be there for you" when things go wrong.

You never had the chance to kiss me good-night,
Or to stand strong behind me as I learned how to fly a kite.

You never had the chance to give me a hug when I won the track race,
Or to pick me up when I fell flat on my face!

You never had the chance to walk me down the aisle,
Or to hear the band play "the father/daughter songs to sing, dance and smile."

You never had the chance to cradle my three baby girls,
Or to place their picture on your desk in their satin and pearls.

You never got the chance to be there for most of my life,
But I'm proud you died doing what you thought was so right.

You loved being a pilot. You loved to soar,
I hope the angels are hearing your plane roar.

At 33 I decided I was not satisfied with that information and started my search for the truth. After posting messages on a few web-sites I found the best friend of the Navigator on the plane. Lt. Col. Jim Morgan gave me the confidence to continue on with my search. About a week later I found someone else, a family member of Ed Mosely, another man killed on the plane. None of them knew much more than I did about the death but were kind enough to share with me about Eds life! I later found a group of men that were willing to help me.

Tom Brotherman had also conducted this search a few years back. He hooked me up with the "Blind-Bats" a group of men that were in Vietnam and willing to teach me the lingo as well as hook me up with different people to help find out the truth. MSgt. Ralph Krach gave me the number to contact the Air Force Safety Commission. During that phone call, I got the Flight History and discovered someone survived that day. The emotions were at times so deep I truly contemplated closing this chapter on many occasions. Although I had been warned the survivor might not speak to me, I felt I had to try to contact him.

On the second ring and the first try, the survivor answered the phone. His kindness was unbelievable. Through this phone call and a letter from him, he was able to tell me information that I would not have known from just the Flight History. He truly was like a dream come true. Lt. Pat Hatch came forward and gave me information also. He graduated with my dad from Laughlin Air Force Base and later slept on the bunk below my father in Vietnam. He was able to tell me personality traits that only a friend could give me. I posted messages on almost every web-site that I thought people might listen. I had 1 person, Ray Prittie, send me the Walter Cronkite video on the TET Offensive as well as a picture of the actual air strip that my father died on.