On our second sortie into Task Force Alpha we received lots of automatic weapon's fire. I returned fire as we approached the landing zone. About 200 yards out there was an explosion and a bright flash of light on my side of the ship. One of my rounds struck a B-40 as it headed towards our ship. The rocket went off in front of me. I was peppered from the shell but the only piece large enough went through my ammo box and hit my right leg. We pulled our second sortie and all I needed was to have it cleaned and a bandage and we went back to work.

For years I wondered why I was so lucky that day. How could one round have hit that rocket and spared the ship. That question was answered 13 years later. On March 30,1982 my third child was born. His name is Scott Allen and he was a surprise baby. I guess God had his reasons that day too.