Franklin D. Miller

thumb|CSM Miller in Army dress greens, 1989 Command Sergeant Major Franklin Douglas "Doug" Miller (January 27, 1945–June 30, 2000) was an American and United States Army Special Forces staff sergeant during the Vietnam War who was awarded the United States military's highest decoration—the Medal of Honor—for his actions above and beyond the call of duty on January 5, 1970. He was also awarded a Silver Star, two Bronze Stars, and six Purple Hearts during his six years service in Southeast Asia. Quotes thumb|If you want a soldier's respect and loyalty, you must demonstrate two things. First, you must show that you know more than the soldier you are leading. Your subordinate must be aware that you have knowledge he does not possess, and that you are trying to teach him. thumb|The second thing you must demonstrate is a genuine concern for his safety and well-being. The concern must be real, because a young soldier can spot a faker a mile away. If your concern for him is genuine- and he knows it- then you can rest assured that he will follow you into the jaws of death. thumb|When you have the Medal of Honor, all actions- good, bad, true, or false- are magnified, and an undue amount of significance is attached to each. My every move- real or imagined- became front-page news. Maybe I'm exaggerating, but not much. thumb|And then there was the freedom. We were our own masters, the captains of our own ships. We received general guidance regarding a mission and executed the basic plan any way we saw fit. The bottom line was nobody fucked with us when we were on a mission (except maybe the enemy every once in a while), and nobody fucked with us when the day was done. Nobody fucked with us period. We were left to do as we damn well pleased. 1990s Reflections of a Warrior (1991) Co-written with Elwood J.C. Kureth. Novato: Presidio Press, hardcover. I remember Kelly most for the times we spent playing cards. You name the card game, and we played it. We were both avid card players, and even though our card games were strictly for fun, we were both highly competitive and hated to lose. The winner always took great delight in the loser's whining, excuses, and accusations of cheating. Good-natured miniscuffles broke out on occasion.My most vivid memories were of the times we played cards by moonlight. The moon appeared so much larger by the equator, and the absence of air pollution out in the bush allowed the moonlight to bathe us unfiltered. There we sat, playing game after game inside the platoon's perimeter when we weren't pulling guard or on patrol. At night we played without the usual theatrics, whispering only to name the game or utter a put-down. The stillness of the jungle and the glossy blackness of the night sky combined with the moon's frozen brilliance to create an eerie, haunting setting. The worn, creased cards that Kelly always carried were never idle for long under those conditions.Now they'd be idle forever.Death was now close to home. Death Hits Home, p. 17 Mail is such a critical thing to soldiers in the field because of their Spartan way of living. Mail can make or break any situation. When you get a letter, man, your morale shoots sky-high. Especially when it smells just like your girlfriend. That perfume smell, you know? There you are, sitting in the middle of nowhere, and the next thing you know someone comes along, says, "Here you go, man," and flips you a leter. A letter that he's probably sniffed most of he perfume out of before it gets to you. Hearing From Home, p. 22 They don't have mail call out in the field like you'd think. If we all gathered round he sarge to receive your mail we'd probably be attacked. It would be an ideal time to do so, with all of us clustered together in one big, easy target. So one or more guys distributed the goodies.Just as receiving mail will boost your spirits, absence of mail will, over a long period of time, dramatically lower your morale. This is particularly true if you're expecting something. You start getting jealous of guys who get mail, especially if they are receiving it on a constant basis. I've seen two guys exchange heated words because one was extremely happy about hearing from his girl, while the other hadn't heard from home in weeks. Enough said. Hearing From Home, p. 23 And then there was the freedom. We were our own masters, the captains of our own ships. We received general guidance regarding a mission and executed the basic plan any way we saw fit. The bottom line was nobody fucked with us when we were on a mission (except maybe the enemy every once in a while), and nobody fucked with us when the day was done. Nobody fucked with us period. We were left to do as we damn well pleased. Last question: How often do you get fucked with back in the World? Answer: All the time. Paper Anniversary, p. 31 The most warlike tribe was the Sedang. They were the tallest, meanest, and most aggressive. This may or may not be true, but I was told that up until the middle sixties they still had human sacrifices. I wouldn't doubt that after being around these people. They were so tough and hard it was scary.These people truly lived by the law of nature. Only the strong survive. If a baby has a defect, it dies at birth, or it's not going to live very long. Consequently, most of them were in excellent physical shape, very muscular, and built for endurance. Their knowledge of the woods was unrivaled by any American soldier. Face it, when you're born and raised in the jungle you become intimate with its essence. You learn about the sounds of the animals, how to track prey, what to eat, what to avoid. A Bahnar youngster can construct the little booby-traps you set up for people, because they are the same ones he uses to catch animals. By the time a Sedang child is eight years old he knows all the things they teach you in Ranger school about the woods and tracking. All he'd need to do would be learn how to jump from a plane, and he'd be an airborne ranger. Montagnards, p. 82 But I'll tell you what. I'd rather have one of them in an asskick than an American, any day. That's not meant as a derogatory comment on American fighting men, but simply a compliment regarding the tremendous fighting abilities of the Yards. They are natural hunters, people born to the hunt. Many times we'd be in a fight and I'd look downhill or across from me and the Yards would be on the move. I very rarely had to tell them anything. I'd see them fix their eyes on the enemy and move like they were stalking game. Once they learned your personality and technique no words were necessary. Eye contact said it all. Montagnards, p. 83 Six fellow soldiers also received the Medal of Honor with me on that warm, clear day in June, 1971. However, only one man stood beside me. Tragically, the other five were awarded posthumously. Such sorrow reflects the magnitude of the actions of those individuals who are considered for the CMH. A female lieutenant colonel once asked me if I knew why they gave me the medal. She asked the question in such a way that I took it as meaning she knew the reason- did I? Her question pissed me off. I thought, what the hell do you know? How could you, who have never seen combat, possibly know? I was preparing to give it to her with both barrels at the conclusion of her comment.However, she said something profound that hit the nail right square on the head. She said, "They gave you the medal because they realize that something has happened to you that they can't understand."You were absolutely right, ma'am. My apologies. Back in the World, p. 191 It seemed like the entire world knew I'd come out of Womack's Nut Ward, and as a result I was accused of everything from shoplifting to armed robbery to murder. Nobody took my word for anything. Any derogatory stories that could be old about me were given maximum dissemination. When you have the Medal of Honor, all actions- good, bad, true, or false- are magnified, and an undue amount of significance is attached to each. My every move- real or imagined- became front-page news. Maybe I'm exaggerating, but not much. Afterlife, p. 198 Once, a student asked me what the secret was to being a good combat leader, a man who commands the loyalty and respect of his subordinates. That was a question I'd been formulating the answer to for many years, almost from Day One when I set foot on Vietnamese soil. My answer to him and the class was a simple one which I would repeat many times throughout the years."If you want a soldier's respect and loyalty, you must demonstrate two things. First, you must show that you know more than the soldier you are leading. Your subordinate must be aware that you have knowledge he does not possess, and that you are trying to teach him."The second thing you must demonstrate is a genuine concern for his safety and well-being. The concern must be real, because a young soldier can spot a faker a mile away. If your concern for him is genuine- and he knows it- then you can rest assured that he will follow you into the jaws of death." Afterlife, p. 201 And so I began in earnest my awkward assimilation into the training environment and the peacetime Army. And after all the trials and tribulations, the blood, sweat, and tears, I'm still in the Army today, twenty-five years and untold heartaches later. Maybe I'll make it a career. Afterlife, p. 201 AK-47: A selective fire, Russian-designed and manufactured assault rifle used by the North Vietnamese. Fires a 7.62mm round at a muzzle velocity of 2,330 feet per second. Noted for its simple and rugged construction, it is much heavier than an M-16 (11.3 lbs vs. 8.42 lbs) and harder to control (harder kick because of the heavier round) when firing on full automatic. A somewhat crude but effective weapon. Glossary, p. 203 Cobra: Commonly referred to as a gunship. It was the U.S. Army's primary attack helicopter (AH). The AH-1G Cobra was equipped with a variety of formidable armaments, including rockets, 40mm grenades, and 7.62mm miniguns (Gatling-style machine guns). Cobras were very effective against ground troops, and more than once came to the aid of U.S. soldiers in tight spots. Their presence was greatly appreciated by us and especially devastating to the morale of enemy troops. Glossary, p. 203 M-16: The standard personal firearm (rifle) of American troops. In my opinion, the M-16 is superior to the AK-47 as a killing instrument. Although the M-16 fires a smaller caliber round than the AK-47 (5.56mm vs. 7.62mm), its muzzle velocity is far greater (3,280 feet per second vs. 2,330 feet per second). The increased muzzle velocity creates a tumbling effect on the smaller round; the round will tumble and ricochet off bone once it penetrates flesh, causing enormous damage as it rips crazily through the body. I've seen an M-16 round create an entrance hole no bigger than a dime, yet leave a hole the size of a softball upon exit. I've seen it blow off limbs at the joints. I've used both the AK-47 and M-16, and I far prefer the latter. On the Medal of Honor day, I was shot through the chest with an AK-47 round. Had it been the M-16 round, I can almost guarantee you that I'd have been killed instantly. Glossary, p. 204 Quotes about Miller For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity in action at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty. S/Sgt. Miller, 5th Special Forces Group, distinguished himself while serving as team leader of an American-Vietnamese long-range reconnaissance patrol operating deep within enemy-controlled territory. Leaving the helicopter insertion point, the patrol moved forward on its mission. Suddenly, one of the team members tripped a hostile booby trap which wounded four soldiers. S/Sgt. Miller, knowing that the explosion would alert the enemy, quickly administered first aid to the wounded and directed the team into positions across a small stream bed at the base of a steep hill. Within a few minutes, S/Sgt. Miller saw the lead element of what he estimated to be a platoon-size enemy force moving toward his location. Concerned for the safety of his men, he directed the small team to move up the hill to a more secure position. He remained alone, separated from the patrol, to meet the attack. S/Sgt. Miller singlehandedly repulsed two determined attacks by the numerically superior enemy force and caused them to withdraw in disorder. He rejoined his team, established contact with a forward air controller, and arranged the evacuation of his patrol. However, the only suitable extraction location in the heavy jungle was a bomb crater some 150 meters from the team location. S/Sgt. Miller reconnoitered the route to the crater and led his men through the enemy-controlled jungle to the extraction site. As the evacuation helicopter hovered over the crater to pick up the patrol, the enemy launched a savage automatic-weapons and rocket-propelled-grenade attack against the beleaguered team, driving off the rescue helicopter. S/Sgt. Miller led the team in a valiant defense which drove back the enemy in its attempt to overrun the small patrol. Although seriously wounded and with every man in his patrol a casualty, S/Sgt. Miller moved forward to again singlehandedly meet the hostile attackers. From his forward exposed position, S/Sgt. Miller gallantly repelled two attacks by the enemy before a friendly relief force reached the patrol location. S/Sgt. Miller's gallantry, intrepidity in action, and selfless devotion to the welfare of his comrades are in keeping with the highest traditions of the military service and reflect great credit on him, his unit, and the U.S. Army. Citation for the Medal of Honor awarded to Miller, presented on 15 June 1971 by President Richard Nixon at the White House, Washington, D.C. I was into the fifth day of a one-year tour in Seoul, South Korea, when I met the man my sponsor had spoken of in reverent tones. The words that entered my gray matter days before suddenly stepped forward, front and center, ready for inspection. Medal of Honor. He'd came strolling into our office that day, a big grin on his face as if he'd just heard a joke. His manner was easy and his mood was light. Physically, he didn't measure up to the Hollywood version of a Medal of Honor recipient. That is to say, he didn't resemble Sylvester (Rambo) Stallone or Clint (Heartbreak Ridge) Eastwood. So I immediately consulted the Holywood Medal of Honor Recipient Checklist:Square, iron jaw? No.Piercing, steely eyes? Not quite.Ramrod-straight posture? Maybe in his younger days.Broad-shouldered, tight-waisted, barrel-chested physique? Ahhh... no.Only one item left. "Hello, Captain Kureth. Welcome to the DLOG." I mentally checked the block in the "negative" column beside Deep, raspy, gravel voice. So much for stereotypes. Major Elwood J.C. Kureth, U.S. Army, Preface to Reflections of a Warrior (1991) by Franklin D. Miller, p. vii He extended his hand and I took it. Hmmmmm. Average handshake. No viselike grip or shoulder-wrenching arm pumping. An I noticed that he didn't exude an air of intensity or violence; in fact, he generated a very relaxed atmosphere. He sat down, still smiling. I glanced at my watch, and when I looked up- what's this?- where a second before had sat Sergeant Major Frank Miller now sat a laughing, wildly gesturing and articulating kid! A rather profane kid to be sure, who alternately laughed and swore as he recalled some of his experiences in the land sixteen hundred miles to the southwest of us. Everyone in the office halted their activities and went along for the ride as his boyish enthusiasm and adept storytelling skills placed us next to him in the dense, incredibly green vegetation of Vietnam.His monologue lasted for about twenty minutes. He'd get up from his seat occasionally to emphasize a point with a particular body stance. No one interrupted him as he paused to collect his thoughts, ensuring an accurate, detailed, and living account of each situation. At the conclusion of the journey, our tour guide strolled out of the office as easily as he had come in. Major Elwood J.C. Kureth, U.S. Army, Preface to Reflections of a Warrior (1991) by Franklin D. Miller, p. vii-viii I was impressed by two facts, the first being Sergeant Major Miller's ability to command an audience. His communication skills and personality allow him to interface effortlessly with people. Secondly, not all his stories were about conflicts, or "asskicks." Several accounts painted pictures of a beautiful land and truly interesting people. Some stories illustrated that humor can be found in the most unlikely places.It didn't take me long to realize that this was one very interesting individual. His stories, I was positive, would be as fascinating to the general public as they were to the soldiers in the office that day. His background in the Special Forces, his six consecutive years in Vietnam, and his Medal of Honor meant that he spoke with the voice of authority. He was the genuine article, the real McCoy. Exactly what the public wants. Major Elwood J.C. Kureth, U.S. Army, Preface to Reflections of a Warrior (1991) by Franklin D. Miller, p. viii-ix Let Sergeant Major Miller guide you through a world that few ever know. The world according to the Special Forces. I believe you'll be entertained. Major Elwood J.C. Kureth, U.S. Army, Preface to Reflections of a Warrior (1991) by Franklin D. Miller, p. x External links Category:United States Army people Category:Medal of Honor recipients Category:Silver Star Medal recipients Category:1945 births Category:2000 deaths Category:Memoirists from the United States Category:People from North Carolina