I was tasked with putting together a Recon Platoon for E Company 2/12; I don’t remember whether it was May or June of 1968; so many dates and places run together. The Recon Platoon was to be comprised of volunteers from other platoons in the 2/12. 

It was suggested that I strongly consider this individual from C Company by the name of Jack Reed. As we all know that I “strong recommendation” from a superior generally means that the person is put in the position.  Since the recon Platoon had no officer, I was to fill the slot of Platoon Leader and Jack Reed, the Platoon Sergeant.

I set out to meet this Jack Reed and found him sitting on a pile of sand bags.  He was not what I expected, but certainly fit the description of a warrior.  There he sat with a Mohawk haircut and tattered and torn jungle fatigues.  The significant part of the torn and tattered clothing was that his pants were ripped ,the crotch and his privates were dangling for all to see.  What I witnessed next was even more shocking.

Jack reached up to his helmet and removed the bug juice and began rubbing it on his privates.  Now I ask you, “Who would not want to have this person in their platoon?”

Prior to coming to Viet Nam, Jack Reed (or Tex as I now knew him) was on the European Army Shooting Team.  Tex’ weapon of choice was the M-60 and he could make it dance like no one I had ever seen before.

When we would encounter Charlie, Tex would immediately go for the M-60 and walk it through Charlie’s position spreading Hate and Discontent.

As a Platoon Sergeant, Tex ranked with the best.  His commitment to the Recon guys was unparalleled he gave each of them names and became their big brother. 

We spent a large portion of our evenings setting up “Trick or Treat” sites, waiting for Charlie to step into our web.  One particular night while setting on a Trick or Treat site,  so pitch black you could not even see your hand in front of your face; a FNG, one that we had to take rather than select, was playing with a trip flare.  He somehow pulled the pin and dropped it into the M-60 ammo.  All hell broke loose! Our position was compromised, the M-60 ammo going off and we had no idea if anyone was hit. Tex crawled to each position to make sure everyone was OK.

Tex and I became the best of friends.  Oh, we would argue but it was always in the interest of our guys.  Several times we were sent out attached to other than 2/12 with the objective of engaging and accessing the strength of the NVA.  We kept watch of each other’s back in these situations and our platoon received a letter of commendation on our ability to find and kill the enemy.

Tex and I parted ways when I left for discharge.  During the reunion in Milwaukee, I found his name and called.  Since then we have become close, Mick Mitchell, Tex and me.  We talk every day and have truly rekindled our relationship.

Recon lives today through Col Dingeman, Mick Mitchell, Jerry Eaton, Doc Bland, Rick Rockholt (an honorary member), Mike Smith (an honorary member), Tex and me.

To Jack “Tex” Reed I owe my life and my sanity, for he impacted both.

Recon Poster

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