[jasonglh]

Donnie Mitchell's family finds closure

By LaMar Bryan
Messenger Managing Editor



Sunday, August 28, 2005

By all accounts, the small battlefield near the Vietnam-Laos border fit the definition of hell on earth.

U.S. troops and allies fended off North Vietnamese attackers, who shot down helicopters and threatened to overrun the hillside outpost called Ngok Tavak.

Throughout the 10 hours of fierce fighting, commanders sensed disaster looming. They authorized an evacuation after reinforcements didn’t arrive.

When guns silenced, the casualty list included more than two dozen Americans unaccounted for at two camps some five miles apart. The government later categorized most of these GIs as dead, though their bodies were never recovered.

One of those missing in action was Marine Lance Cpl. Donnie Mitchell, 20, of nearby Princeton.

The young Marine’s father, Herman Mitchell, mostly accepted the military’s explanation that Donnie had died in combat on May 10, 1968. Conflicting stories, however, made it difficult to extinguish all doubts about his son’s fate.

The most persistent report claimed Donnie served on a team sent back to scout for a medic left behind when troops hurriedly pulled out of Ngok Tavak. Eleven members of the team became missing themselves – apparently killed by advancing enemy soldiers.

During an interview a dozen years ago, Herman Mitchell held little hope that his son would miraculously walk through the front door one day. Yet, his soul ached for the opportunity to give Donnie a proper burial and to embrace the closure that would come with that final act of civility.

Thirty-seven springs passed and still the Mitchell family waited. They bought a headstone and set aside a burial site in the family’s cemetery plot.

During this period, Elvis died and the Rolling Stones grew old. Mankind set foot on the moon and cloned any number of animals. The Cold War ended and new wars arose. And the U.S. resumed diplomatic ties with Vietnam.

This thawing of relationships fostered opportunities for joint U.S.-Vietnam teams to search old crash sites and battlefields for MIA remains.

The Mitchells started hearing more frequently from military officials, who provided periodic updates on recovery efforts.

Some veterans groups, never forgetting the unusually large number of MIAs at Ngok Tavak and Kham Duc, urged the government to give those former camps high priority. The dangerous tactical situation made it impractical to conduct a proper recovery operation in that region during the final years of the Vietnam War.

Herman Mitchell died in 1998 with many questions left unanswered. It was the same year his daughter, Brenda Scott, submitted a DNA sample for labs to use in comparison with any bone fragments recovered.

The search for the missing troops advanced in painstakingly slow fashion. It was much like pulling a folder out of the unsolved mysteries bin from the 1960s and starting anew to piece together leads.

Investigators reviewed after-action reports and interviewed American and Vietnamese veterans who fought in the battle. They also sought out villagers to help pinpoint areas for excavation.

What searchers uncovered ranged from belt buckles and buttons to pieces of combat boots and bone fragments. It would require years to sort out the evidence and complete forensic analysis.

Scott said she knew this summer that the government was close to releasing its findings. She recalls the warm tears streaming down her checks while reading an e-mail saying some of Donnie’s bone fragments had been positively identified.

A team of Marine representatives met with the Mitchells in July to present two bound volumes of evidence, compiled by a military lab and reviewed by three independent labs. In addition to Donnie, technicians had identified 11 other Americans missing from Ngok Tavak.

The family learned that Donnie died at the beginning of the battle rather than with the lost team.

“The guys that survived were very lucky they made it out alive,” Scott said. “There was no way they could get the remains out.”

Scott said family members have received numerous calls in recent weeks from the media, well-wishers and groups like Rolling Thunder, which has helped focus attention on POWs-MIAs.

“It’s just amazing there is so much interest from people who don’t even know Donnie,” she said.

The Mitchells buried the Princeton Marine this weekend next to his great-grandfather. One of the guys from his unit attended the funeral, as well as an official delegation from the military.

Additional bone fragments recovered during the excavations likely belong to Donnie, but the lab couldn’t make a conclusive determination. They will be placed in a mass grave, along with remains from seven of his comrades, at Arlington National Cemetery in October.

This closure is what the family had hoped for all of those years. It’s what Donnie would have expected, that his nation would never give up on bringing him home.

Semper Fidelis.