LUCKY TO BE ALIVE: LETTER RECALLS FRIEND'S DEATH

Bob Brosey feels lucky to be alive.

Twenty-five years ago, he was seriously wounded and his 19-year-old friend, Tom Miller, was killed when a Viet Cong rocket struck their Marine Corps bunker in Vietnam.

Brosey, 46, still carries visible reminders of that war. His left leg was disfigured by the rocket attack, and he bears upper-body scars from other incidents of war -- in one case, he was hit by shrapnel and in another he was wounded by sniper fire.

Since being released from the Marines on a medical discharge in 1970, Brosey has held a succession of government jobs in various states, with the U.S. Postal Service and the Veterans Administration.

Brosey has been working for the postal service in Cape Girardeau since 1982.

Over the years, he has put the war behind him. But the poignant memories remain.

A week ago Thursday, he received a telephone call from Tom Miller's mother, Ila Hinthorne of Bethalto, Ill., a community of about 10,000 near St. Louis.

She had remarried after her first husband (Tom's father) died in 1971.

Hinthorne, who has talked to several of her son's Marine buddies in recent years, reminded Brosey of a letter he had written to her and her former husband after Tom died.

On Monday, Brosey received a copy of the letter.

The letter was written by Brosey on Feb. 9, 1970 and mailed from Cape Lejeune, N.C., where he was stationed before his discharged.

Brosey grew up in New Carlisle, Ohio. At age 19, he joined the Marines rather than be drafted into the Army.

He was 20 when he arrived in Vietnam in April 1968. "I hated everything -- the land, people, food, just everything," he wrote in the letter. They sweated in the oppressive heat and were drenched in the monsoons.

Initially, he didn't like Tom Miller, who was his squad leader.

But Brosey said Miller drilled the raw recruits, teaching them how to stay alive.

The two men soon became good friends. Miller, who had been in a rock band in high school called the Nomads, was a good musician and singer.

The two men bought a guitar and carried it with them wherever they went.

"That had to be the best thing that ever happened while I was over there. We really took care of that thing," Brosey wrote.

Brosey spent about a year in Vietnam.

He and his fellow Marines in Echo Company, 2nd Battalion, served their tour of duty near the Demilitarized Zone between South Vietnam and North Vietnam.

"We were up in the mountains," he said. "It was all elephant grass and jungles. We were looking at guns pointed at us right out of the Laotian mountains."

Brosey said Miller once saved his life, killing Vietnamese snipers who had opened fire on the Marines.

By February 1969, both Brosey and Miller were radio operators.

On Feb. 25, they and other Marines were resting in their sandbagged bunkers at Fire Base Russell on a hill near Khe Sanh.

"We had been out in the field for almost 45 days and were tired out," Brosey wrote in the letter.

"That night we stayed up and listened on the radio at another hill that was getting hit. We did not even think about us getting hit," he recalled in the letter.

Brosey, Miller and another Marine were in the command post bunker when the Viet Cong struck about 3 a.m. on Feb. 26.

The first incoming rocket struck their bunker, killing Miller and the other Marine, and badly wounding Brosey.

"I was all fried. I was totally burned," he remembered.

The Viet Cong overran the base. Brosey estimated about 80 Marines were killed and another 30 or 40 were wounded in the attack.

He was evacuated to a medical ship and told by doctors that his left leg would have to be amputated. Brosey refused to consent to such an operation and his leg eventually healed to a point that he could walk again.

But recovery took time. He spent five months in the burn unit at the Great Lakes Naval Hospital near Chicago.

For both Hinthorne and Brosey, the recent telephone call stirred up painful memories.

But Hinthorne, who for years couldn't talk about her son's death, said she was glad she called.

"I really felt like I really knew him and he seemed like such a nice guy," she said of Brosey.

"I hope he writes and I hope he comes and sees me, or calls or whatever, because he will always be welcome," she said.

Today is Veterans Day. To Brosey, that means more than parades and speeches. It means remembering all the Tom Millers who died in the war.

And for Brosey, the war is more than just memories of death and destruction. It is also memories of an ironclad friendship that blossomed in the course of one fateful year.