Stephen Eugene Laier
Specialist Four
3RD PLT, A CO, 1ST BN, 16TH INFANTRY, 1ST INF DIV, USARV
Army of the United States
Fort Wayne, Indiana
July 01, 1947 to February 15, 1966
(Incident Date February 04, 1966)
STEPHEN E LAIER is on the Wall at Panel 5E, Line 38

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Stephen E Laier
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28 May 2005

Tiede in Viet Nam

GET OVER HERE! I'M ALIVE!
by Tom Tiede, Lai Khe, Viet Nam

This war is no place for softies. One who sees much of the horror and the heroics should perhaps develop emotional armor against the miseries of these gallant, lonely soldiers.

Most observers, however, can not.

Not with kids like Steve Laier.

He was an 18-year-old infantryman from Fort Wayne, Ind. A handsome lad with a puppy-dog crewcut, eyes that lit up like lamps, and the confidence and enthusiasm that only youth generates.

A lot of guys met him here on a hospital bed.

He always smiled at them and apologized for not getting up.

He could not, of course. His legs had been blown off.

In Minefield

The boy and a couple dozen companions from the First Infantry Division were on an ambush patrol when it happened. The Viet Cong sprang their favorite suprise (sic) -- ground mine detonations.

If a man is lucky he may escape in one piece.

But Steve Laier wasn't lucky.

He was carrying the patrol's radio set when the explosion turned his world to hell. He must have been right on top of the blast for one of his legs was severed and the other reduced to ribbons.

Blood shot in all directions, but there was no pain save that of witnessing his own mutilation, Around him scores of wounded groaned and screamed. Two of them died instantly. The rest pleaded for help and water.

The boy himself was near death, yet he refused to die.

In fact, he refused even to pass out and instead began to work his telephone for help. "We're hit, we're hit," he blurted into the radio. "Choppers, we need choppers. Help us, please help."

Shortly, the nauseous realization of what had happened over-powered the boy and he dropped the phone to the ground and raised his legs to the air. He held them up to slow the flow of fluid from his weakening body.

Then he prayed and cursed.

The patrol around him was in human ruin. Virtually everyone was bleeding and a single medic moved from man to man as rapidly as possible. When he finally reached the young trooper, he winced, turned away and muttered:

"He's gone, I can't help at all."

Laier heard.

"Get over here," he called, "I'm still alive!"

The medic obeyed quickly.

Keep Joing (sic)

"Don't give up, GI," somebody stammered.

"I ain't giving up, sir," the youngster replied.

"You can make it."

"Yessir," Laier said, "I hope so anyway."

Moments later he was evacuated. He was placed in the hospital with the entire lower half of his body brutally ripped, large holes in his abdomen, dime-sized punctures in his arms and face, and over a hundred smaller wounds covering the whole of his front side.

He struggled for life for two weeks.

And he clung to optimism.

"I've been praying a lot and thinking of home," he told visitors, "I know I look in bad shape, but I'll be O.K. I'll get by. I'll be out and around in no time."

Then Steve Laier died.

And a lot of the softies here wept unashamed.

(Tacoma Times Tribune, Tacoma WA, 25 May 1966, pg C-1)

From a researcher,
Darilee Bednar
bookstorelady@facesfromthewall.com

 
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Lai Khe Base Camp was a Army of the Republic of Vietnam (ARVN) and U.S. Army base, located along Highway 13 ("Thunder Road") to the northwest of Saigon. It was the Headquarters for the U.S. Army's 1st Infantry Division.

Late in the afternoon of February 4, 1966, near sunset, a platoon-sized patrol consisting of 32 men departed the camp on foot to conduct a night ambush mission in the area to west of the base. Most of the personnel were from 3rd Platoon, A Company, 1st Battalion, 16th Infantry of the 1st Infantry Division.

After clearing the perimeter, the point element crossed the Saigon River. As the command group, including some officers and the Forward Observer and radiomen, were preparing to cross, two U.S.made M18A1 Claymore anti-personnel mines were detonated in a sandbar. The blasts killed ten Americans and wounded another nine.

The explosions could be heard within the base, and when Battalion couldn't establish radio contact with the patrol, a reactionary force raced over to their location. Helicopters were launched, and medivacs soon landed to remove the dead and wounded. It would take over four hours to completely police-up the ambush site as members of A Company worked in the dark to remove weapons and equipment. The lost personnel included:

Alpha Company, 1/16th Infantry, lost at least nine men as a result of the 04 Feb 1966 engagement described in more detail on SP4 Stephen E. Laier's memorial page. In addition to the seven men killed in the action, at least two more died of injuries received:


Steve Laier's actions after he was wounded undoubtedly saved the lives of many of the other wounded. He was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross, the Army's second highest award for valor in combat.

Stephen E Laier

Stephen E Laier

Journal and Courier, Lafayette, Indiana, Monday, February 21, 1966, page 2

By PETER ARNETT, SAIGON, South Viet Nam (Associated Press) - A young infantryman named Stephen Laier has shown in 15 pain-filled days that in some men the only limit to courage is death.

The courage of Laier, 18 years old, 6 feet tall and 225 pounds, almost defies comprehension by men who have never been wounded in battle.

From the moment he lost both his legs to a bursting Viet Cong mine early in February, to the time 15 days later when life finally ebbed from his body, Laier fought for survival with a tenacity that brought tears to the eyes of those who knew that his wounds were mortal. The doctors did everything to save him.

Big, blond Laier, from Fort Wayne, Ind. - 2526 Clara Ave. - had shown he was a man well worth saving.

He suffered his terrible wounds Feb. 4 as an ambush patrol from his company from the 1st Battalion, 16th Regiment, 1st Infantry Division, chased a sniper and got hit with hidden mines wired to detonate simultaneously.

Three of the men were killed instantly, the remaining 11 wounded. Laier, close by the mines when they burst, lost his legs in what doctors term "a traumatic amputation."

With wounds this terrible, most men slip into shock and die.

Laier, the radioman for the patrol, was made of sterner stuff. He told doctors later he knew he was the only man alive capable of operating his radio equipment.

He tied rough tourniquets around the stumps of his legs and groped for his radio in the undergrowth under some wild rubber trees. The blast had upset the calibration of his radio.

In the gathering dusk, Laier returned the set, a difficult job for a whole man. Then he began calling to his company headquarters at nearby Lai Khe to notify them of the catastrophe that had befallen the squad.

Laier then attempted to call down medical helicopters but they could not land because of the darkness. A patrol from his company arrived on foot, guided by Laier.

By this time, 35 minutes had gone by.

His company commander Capt. Edward Yaugo, from Warren, Ohio, asked Laier, "Is there anything we can do for you?"

Laier replied, "Yes, you can get me some morphine."

The fight for Laier's life was on.

Dr. Kris Keggi, from El Paso, remembers Laier being brought into the 3rd Surgical Hospital at Bien Hoa that night.

"Medically, he was dead then," Keggi said. "We probed his veins. There was no blood in them. He was literally down to his last drop of blood."

Keggi and his aides pumped six pints of blood into the youth and he came around.

Fifteen days later a total of 60 pints of blood had been given him, literally replacing his normal blood supply six times.

Most men die after transfusions of 20 pints of blood. Too many complications set in. But after 30 pints, doctors thought Laier might have a chance.

"His will to live was tremendous," Dr. Keggi said.

Laier eventually developed a multiplicity of complications, requiring further operations on his legs.

NO COMPLAINTS

"We fought against amputating his legs at the hips," Keggi said. "We hated to do that. This man had been a football player, and he told us that he wanted to get out, wear tin legs, and walk again."

At no time did Laier complain about his misfortune.

"Maybe it was because his grandfather had lost his legs because of diabetes. He didn't seem afraid to face life," said Capt. Marguerite Giroux, from Malone, N.Y., the operating room nurse.

Nurse Giroux helped Laier write letters home to his mother and his girl friend.

"He was so brave that he didn't even want to tell his girl friend that he was so sick. He said she should not have to worry about him," nurse Giroux said.

To help sustain him in his quiet, desperate fight for life, Laier, a Roman Catholic, asked for a priest. As many as five Catholic chaplains at a time came to visit him. Nurse Giroux said he prayed constantly.

A FUNSTER

Medical Spec. Jose Mares, from Albuquerque, N.M., remembers Laier as a funster.

"He kept telling us he really wanted to be a barber, not a soldier. Then he said he wanted to sit by a lake and fish his life away," Mares said.

With this kind of spirit, Laier raised hopes of the doctors that somehow he would pull through. But as the extent of his medical complications became apparent, this hope began to fade.

Laier's commanding officer, Major General Jonathan Seaman, visited Laier several times. Seaman was so impressed with the young radioman that he wrote a friend, "This is one of the bravest men I have seen in 30 years as a soldier."

Seaman presented Laier a Bronze Star with "V" for valor [upgraded upon his death to Distinguished Service Cross], and told him; This is the highest award in my power to present you. I wish I could present you with a higher one.

Laier told his commanding general; "I want to stay in the Army when I get my new legs."

Laier's spirit never faltered. It was his body that failed him.

In an epitaph to the young radioman, Gen. Seaman said. "With men like Laier, our division, our Army, our country will always be great." Death did not come as a merciful blessing for the terribly wounded infantryman. He tried hard not to die.




Stephen E Laier

SP4 Stephen E. Laier was survived by his mother Hazel Catherine (Kamphues) Laier (1922-1971), father Joseph George Laier (1918-1991), brother Joseph Laurents (1941-1999), and sisters, Karen Sands of Fort Wayne and Kay Arlene Perona (1953-2012). Steve and his parents are buried in Greenlawn Memorial Park, Fort Wayne, Allen County, Indiana.


Stephen E Laier


- - The Virtual Wall, 13 June 2023

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