“Force pro” is the concept of the military protecting itself from possible attacks: fences, walls, or anti-vehicle ditches around bases and armor on vehicles or soldiers. It varies according to mission requirements. For example, soldiers establishing a long-term camp construct fortified fighting positions, but such measures are impractical on a brief convoy halt to refuel vehicles.  

I think most would agree Vietnam was a hotter war than Afghanistan, yet I was amazed to hear about how loosely Keller and his fellow airmen rolled back then. He arrived in Vietnam in April 1970 and was stationed at Pleiku. The Viet Cong fired several rockets at their base every night. “They were terrible at aiming,” Keller told me. “You had to get over your fear of going home in a box. If you had a day, you had a day, and that was it.”

A gutsy attitude, but it ignores the fact that their base, without walls, was vulnerable to direct-fire rocket attacks in the first place. In Afghanistan, our square football field compound was surrounded by thick, 14-foot-high concrete walls. Inside, we were relatively at peace.  

Keller was not so lucky. “No s***, there I was … on the s***ter.” A 120 mm rocket with a 20-second time fuse screamed in, impacting 4 feet behind the can. Keller hobble-ran from the latrine, pulling up his pants. He dove into a bunker a moment before the latrine was replaced by a smoldering crater. “The longer you were [in Vietnam], the more complacent you got,” he explained.

I was lucky in Afghanistan to be mostly safe in our base when not out on patrols. It would have been horrific to live with a constant threat as Keller had.

Another surprising difference between our experiences was the force protection posture on convoys. When my platoon moved into western Afghanistan to establish the first permanent American presence in Farah Province, Humvees still hadn’t arrived, so we went with old Toyota Hilux pickups and only our regular small arms. But soon, we used armored Humvees with heavy machine guns.

Sgt. Keller and his fellow airmen had it much worse. To bring air traffic control equipment from An Khe to Pleiku, they had a truck with a flatbed trailer. Alone. No armor. No heavy weapons. For a 60-mile drive. An easy target. Keller opted for better protection by trading two bottles of Jack Daniels with an Army weapons NCO to obtain an M134 minigun and ammunition. He rode back there on the trailer, manning the gun with no cover or concealment. He’d become a target who could shoot back.

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In 2004, then-Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld said, “You go to war with the Army you have, not the Army you might want or wish to have at a later time,” in response to complaints about inadequate armor in the war in Iraq. On one level, I understand his point. Sometimes, the situation requires units to do things with less-than-ideal comfort or security. Nevertheless, I’m shocked and disappointed when I hear about such obvious and easily avoidable force protection problems, particularly in operations as significant as Vietnam.

I only pray that America has learned lessons from our too-numerous wars, and I’m glad Keller made it home safe. And, however unnecessary the danger to his life, as he manned that M134 with no cover on the back of that truck, I have to say, looking at his old photo, the man looked like an ultimate badass cowboy.

Trent Reedy, an author of several books, including Enduring Freedom, served as a combat engineer in the Iowa National Guard from 1999 to 2005, including a tour of duty in Afghanistan.

*Some names and call signs in this story may have been changed due to operational security or privacy concerns.