Victor Mote, professor of political science, talks about his experiences in the Vietnam War. Photo by Mark Lacy

Victor L. Mote, professor and director of undergraduate studies in the University of Houston Department of Political Science, is one of many faculty and staff members involved in a national project to collect the first-hand accounts of war veterans.

The U.S. Library of Congress American Folklife Center is sponsoring the Veterans History Project. A few months ago, the center asked UH’s Office of Veterans’ Services to record and submit stories from employees, as well as other Houstonians. Mote is one of those participants.

Mote, who began his tenure at UH in 1971, served as a U.S. Marine Lieutenant in Vietnam. He shared his experiences with UH Today.

Why did you join the armed services?
When I went to college, I knew that I would go into some branch of the military. My father was an Army officer, and he urged me to do that. I was willing to do so because I was very proud of my country. I felt I needed to give something back. As a college freshman, I joined the Platoon Leaders Class of the U.S. Marine Corps at the University of Denver in October 1960. When I graduated four years later in June 1964, I became a second lieutenant.

When did you begin your tour of duty in Vietnam, and how long was your tour?
After completing officer training in Virginia, I went to California with my wife and newborn for approximately one month before I boarded a ship to go to Vietnam in 1965. I spent the next 13 months of my life in the region of Da Nang. Neither my wife nor I had entertained the thought that I would be going to Vietnam when we got married, but there was always that possibility.

What was your duty?
I was a bridge platoon commander. My men and I built bridges, ferries, a footbridge or two, strong-back tents and mess halls, and we cleared some mines.

One of my most intense experiences was joining in the efforts of the first search-and-destroy mission conducted by the Marines in Vietnam. It was called Operation Harvest Moon. My platoon was attached to the regiment that was involved in the operation. We guarded the perimeter of the regimental headquarters. We stayed in fox holes for three nights. The water table was about half a foot above our sleeping bags. Then, we flew to a remote area where we built a footbridge across a small ravine. Looking back, this was an important event. A company of troops had run into the Viet Cong the night before. About half of that company had been killed or wounded, so the survivors were coming back. We built this footbridge and we waited. Then, the exhausted men finally came. They were obviously happy to see us.

Once they left; however, we had no protection. Therefore, we dismantled the bridge and carried the bridge parts to Highway 1, which was the main highway from north to south in South Vietnam. On the way back to camp, we were attacked. It was harrowing. Bullets were flying everywhere. Fortunately, another company of Marines helped us, and we were able to get out of there. That was one of the most frightening experiences in my tour.

What was the most fearful time for you?
Ironically, the most fearful time was the trip across from San Diego aboard the USS Vancouver. Every night, the intelligence branch would give us (the officers) a run down of what was going on. We didn’t know where we were going to land. We didn’t know if we were going to storm the beach in World War II fashion. Many things were left unsaid. That’s when I really worried. During one point in War World II, Marine officers who stormed the beaches had an average of seven seconds to live. I could just imagine getting off the ship and saying ‘Come on boys’ and bang, I’m hit right between the eyes. It was a psychological struggle.

When we tied up at the moorage in Da Nang, there was a brass band. So, we marched on to this beach, right in the middle of the city, to the sounds of John Philip Sousa. I think I knew, at that instant, that everything was going to be all right.

Did your platoon suffer any fatalities?
My platoon was connected to the 7th Engineer Battalion. During my entire tour, out of a thousand or more personnel in the battalion, we lost three boys: two in another bridge platoon and one in mine. The boy from my platoon was killed the night before I returned from four days of rest and relaxation in Hong Kong.

A footbridge that we had built earlier had been destroyed. A piece of the footbridge had floated down the Song Tuy Loan River. Our troops were guarding a ferry crossing at the base of the main bridge. The abutment of the bridge had barbed wire around it. One of my troopers saw that the piece of footbridge had caught in the barb wire. He had climb over the barb wire to unsnag the piece in order to drag it on shore. When he jumped over the barb wire, he landed on a mine. The poor boy was blown to pieces. When I returned, I had to write letters of condolences to his mother and wife. He and his spouse had two small children. I had to collect and send all his gear in a footlocker back to his family in Iowa. That was a very difficult time.

Why did you decide on a career as a professor as oppose to a career as military officer?
After my undergraduate experience, I always knew I wanted to be a professor. In college, my intellect blossomed. I fell in love with research and learning. From the beginning, I knew I wasn’t going to make a career out of the military, but I truly felt that I owed something to my country, and this I repaid by serving three years in the Marine Corps. Simply, having been born in this wonderful country, where the poorest minions of which would be considered royalty in more than four-fifths of the nations of this world, was, and still is, a privilege.

Francine Parker
fparker@uh.edu