One Nation Under God: A Memoir from Serving Overseas in the 1970s
Bob Neeley on his Suzuki Scrambler, the vehicle that took him through the jungle trails in Cameroon. Photo courtesy of Bob Neeley.
By Bob Neeley, a Faithful Servant
One of the presidents I looked up to was John F. Kennedy. He was a war veteran, and he said, “Ask not what your country can do for you but what you can do for your country.” When people wanted me to go hunting with them as a teenager, I had that gun in my hand, and I was running, running, running. I was training myself to run in the jungle. As a teenager I was getting myself ready through creeks, hills, swamps, and “Don’t quit, just keep on going.”
I served with honor in Vietnam, Korea, and Africa. And then coming back it was a different country- it was a different world- the United States. I remember hearing Eric Burdon and the Animals “We Gotta Get Out of this Place” - we heard that in Vietnam. I was 22 years old when I came back. When I left for Vietnam I was just a teenager.
When I came back there were thousands of us. Every airport was full of GIs, every bus station, every train station was just full of GIs coming back, coming back by the thousands and thousands. We hung around waiting at the airport USO place where GIs wait.
Another thing we did was us Indians - it was against the law back then to have a religious ceremony like a pow wow. It was to pray to God to get rid of the evil spirits of the foreign war. We had white crosses with the soldiers' names on them that got killed when they didn’t come back. This pow wow would go on for a week. It was in a rural area. It was kind of hidden. But we did that to purify ourselves. That was 1970. I met a lot of Indian veterans, a whole lot of them.
My friends too, I used to go hunting and fishing with, I didn’t know they got killed. There was a graveyard; when I was a boy, there was hardly anybody there. And when I came back the graveyard was full, it said American Legion. I was wondering what happened that I never saw them anymore. And that was another reason for going back overseas, going to Africa. The shock of it... just go back again. And Washington, DC says, “You’re going somewhere else- go to Africa this time.”
From War to peace. Bob Neeley and another soldier pose with rifles in Vietnam, 1968-1970. Photo Courtesy of Bob Neeley.
I spent two years there in Cameroon. I joined up with 15 other Americans on a peaceful mission, no guns or nothing.
The Gold Coast of the Atlantic Ocean where it meets the beaches was my first glimpse of Africans, in little fishing boats with nets.
I remember when we first landed on the continent of Africa there was a civil war going on in Lagos, Nigeria. We landed there to refuel. The pilot said, “We’re just going to land, refuel. Don’t get off the plane. Don’t even move” Troops got on with AK-47s with banana clips. They looked at me with my American flag on my jacket and jungle boots. They saw I was a soldier. Then we continued on to Cameroon.
We landed in Douala. I got off the jet, the 747. It was brand new back then, those big jets. It was my second time I rode in a jet. The first time was going to boot camp in San Diego before Vietnam. I rode in a 727 with another bunch of high school guys, all volunteers, about 30 of us.
You’d go in a restaurant, they had a table there with a bar of soap and basin where you could wash your hands in the middle of the restaurant right there. They didn’t have electricity, they just had generators, some kerosene lamps.
There were so many sick people. They would walk to the hospital. There was only one hospital and that was in the capital. And they were walking from all over the country, barefoot. All kinds of sickness, elephantiasis, yellow fever, malaria. The ones who did get medicine- it wasn’t free, they had to pay for it- the medicine was watered down. Anyway, you’d see them for miles walking and walking. That's what kind of a picture that was.
The American embassy was like a millionaire’s mansion with marine guards. The American ambassador told me, “We’re going to be sending you in a taxi to where you’ll be trained under American and Dutch and French and British people.” In a cab, you don’t ride by yourself - it’s packed with other people. It’s a Mercedes. And it was like travelling from here to Anchorage or from here to Fairbanks.
I finally got to our headquarters. It was a big farm, and they had generators. That’s where we stayed. We learned the language and the customs of the people. I was the only Indian. They looked at me, the Africans, and they told me, “same, same.” I said, “Yea, same, same.”
They gave me a motorcycle for a car, a Suzuki Scrambler, on the jungle trails. I didn’t know how to drive it. I had never driven any kind of car or anything. I got on. Another guy was teaching me. Luckily the road was flat and straight. I kept going faster and faster. I didn’t know how to stop.
I slowly learned. I did fall over a lot of times in the muddy clay and that bush. I never got hurt. I had a helmet. But I became a really good driver.
They sent me to Africa because I had lived on a farm. We taught them how to plant corn, we brought carp to make fish farms. I talked to the Chief and said, “We have a thousand shovels, we need a thousand men.” He gave us a thousand men. We dug out a little pond, made it by the river. Carp grow real fast. Within the year they were eating rice that the Chinese brought, the rice paddies, and carp from the fish we brought. That was a big thing.
Bob Neeley poses with the Fulani chief. Taken when Neeley served as a U.S. advisor in the jungles of Cameroon, 1971-1972. Photo courtesy of Bob Neeley.
I was young, 20 years old. I had to write reports. Daily reports, weekly reports, two week reports, monthly reports, three month reports, six month reports, yearly reports. Q and A, who we went to. These reports were sent to Washington, DC.
We had brought cattle from Texas, Texas longhorns. The Fulani tribe were the people who had cattle and horses. They were the rich people. The other tribes had chickens and ducks. That’s how they supplied the food. We also brought in a grass that grows in the tropics, from Cuba I think it was, the Carribean, a certain type of grass for cattle. There were a couple other guys who were specialists in seeds. To make big gardens. They loved us Americans there.
There were Chinese people there, setting up rice patties in Cameroon. The Africans who did become Communists there were teenagers. I told them, “I fought against Communists in Vietnam but now we’re friends.” The Africans who were Communists trained in Russia, and they told us we were poison, Americans. I told them, “We're here to help you so we’re friends today.” They were happy then.
There were hardly any radios and I found one in the jungle. There was a store. I turned it on and it said, “Merry Christmas, wherever you are. This is the Armed Forces of America.” And it said “USO Radio Free Europe.” That’s all I could pick up. I just remember them saying that- “God bless you, wherever you are.” I remember those short little words “Radio Free Europe.” And we’re thousands of miles away in the jungle. I talk to other veterans because a lot of people don’t believe me. We share stories like that. With other veterans- we tell each other stories. We’re the only ones who believe each other.
After two years I came back. I had malaria. I was on a motorcycle and went to visit a farmer. I thought I was just cold. They gave me a bowl of soup, I threw it all up, I couldn’t walk. The Lord’s way was they carried me to a mission and laid me down on the table, and I could see a cross. They were praying for me.
A UN doctor came to me at the mission, he was Filipino. He gave me the medicine - quinine for malaria. They took me back to the hut where I was living, a mud hut with an elephant grass roof.. I laid on a bamboo bed. The American embassy sent two guys to check on me, and they saw I was sick. They said, “Your time’s up, we’re going to send you home.”
I couldn't drive the motorcycle, I was too sick. I just rode in the taxi. I left Douala airport to fly over the Sahara desert and land in Paris, France. We went to the restaurant, and I sat down at the table. They brought out a big bottle of wine, and French bread, and cheese. I wasn’t hungry because of the malaria. I walked around the Rhine River and all these museums, I could see the Eiffel tower, a little trace of snow here and there.
I stayed in Washington, DC one whole week debriefing close to the White House. At the same time when I first came back this whole country was protesting to end the war. There were thousands of people in all the big major cities. It was a shock- I was a couple years behind the times. I saw the “End the War” Vietnam protestors in front of the White House with sleeping bags. Just a few blocks away. I walked around there. My skin was still yellow.
Then I went to the veterans hospital with other Vietnam veterans who told me, “Welcome home.”
Tsin'aen Ne’k’eltaeni
In honor of those who didn’t come back.
For more articles from Bob Neeley, check out:
Old Gakona and Gulkana History with Bob Neeley
