A Christmas Story - How I Saved Bob Hope's Life

Christmas in Vietnam 1970

A Marine friend told me today that I should share this story with others. So, here goes. . . .

Did you know that I saved Bob Hope’s life on Christmas Day in 1970? And, I might add, Ann Margret’s, too. This is the story. And like all good war stories, it starts out with “This is no s**t. . . .”

In December 1970, I was serving as the “Blue” platoon leader for B Troop, 1st Squadron, 9th Cavalry, part of the famous 1st Cavalry Division. I described that unit and the nature our typical missions in a prior Substack article, “Running Through the Fire.”

The Bravo Blues

Generally, our mission was to be a quick reaction force to make combat assaults on a moment’s notice in response to life-threatening emergencies or other situations requiring immediate action. Even though there typically were only twenty-one of us, we were well armed with six M-60 machine guns and numerous grenade launchers, in addition to our M-16 rifles. With that firepower augmented by our own attack helicopters, we were a formidable force and one capable of instantaneous reaction to unforeseen enemy action.

Bob Hope first performed his USO show in Vietnam in 1964. He had continued every year and the show had become a Christmas tradition by 1970. By this time, Hope was accompanied by Ann Margret. On Christmas Day in 1970, they were performing at the Bien Hoa airbase.

Bien Hoa Air Base

Bien Hoa was only a short helicopter flight from the B/1/9 Cav rear base at Bear Cat. A relatively few lucky GIs would be allowed to attend. The in-person attendance probably would be a few thousand GIs who were lucky enough to get a slot. They would be viewing the stage while sitting or standing pretty close together.

For Christmas we were on a stand down because of a supposed Christmas Truce with the North Vietnamese and Viet Cong. I say “supposed” because we never knew if the truce would be honored or not. After all, everyone remembered that the VC had launched their massive country-wide Tet offensive in the middle of a supposed truce during the Vietnamese New Year’s celebrations in January 1968.

Because of this uncertainty and the lack of trust in the NVA and VC, the military was rightly concerned about the safety of Bob Hope and the other performers. We may have been especially concerned about Ann Margret. Bob Hope was funny, but Ann Margret was hot!

And, I should add, both were patriots.

With the performers all concentrated in a relatively small area on the stage and a relatively large number of spectator soldiers packed closely together, they presented a big, juicy, tempting target for local VC or NVA forces who might not give a flip about either Christmas or the truce, but who would like nothing better than to kill large numbers of soldiers, not to mention a few famous American entertainers.

Such a large, dense group was particularly vulnerable to indirect fire attacks by mortars or rockets. These weapons were designed for such “area” targets and could be fired in relative safety from a distance of several thousand meters.

So, my Bravo Blues did not get a chance to attend the Bob Hope show. We were assigned the mission of being the quick reaction force to respond immediately to any attacks against Hope or his troupe. We were, in effect, their bodyguards, even if they did not know it.

We Bravo Blues were ideally suited for this mission, since we were sitting on the runway just a few yards from our helicopters and could be airborne immediately and on any target within a few minutes. And our helicopter “pink teams” were constantly scouting areas from which the enemy might launch an indirect fire attack. If they found anything they would call, “Bounce the Blues.”

If one of the pink teams found enemy firing teams that were not in or near an open area large enough to allow a helicopter to land, we also had had the capability of rappelling out of the bird and through any jungle canopy to land and engage the enemy.

So, we Blues spent Christmas day, sitting next to our UH-1B birds and secretly hoping that something would happen to require our services and thereby take our minds off the sadness of missing home and family. Of course, we did not want any ill to befall the Hope troupe, but if only one of our pink teams could spot an enemy rocket or mortar team while they were setting up, they would call us, and we would be in business!

Alas, it was not to be. We continued to sit idle, thinking of wives, girlfriends and families opening presents and having Christmas dinner back in “The World,” and wishing we were doing something — anything — other than just sitting on a runway, bored and missing our loved ones.

Little did we know that we were actually contributing to history. Somehow — and this is my story and I am sticking to it — word must have leaked out to the local enemy commanders that if they dared attack the Bob Hope show, the dreaded, fire-breathing, nail-chewing Bravo Blues would be airborne instantly and en route to kill them all. Attacking beloved Bob Hope and our heart throb, Ann Margret, would mean an almost-instant death for any enemy soldier so foolish as to try. The word got around, no doubt about it. In short, we Bravo Blues saved all their lives, just by having developed our reputation and being ready to live up to that reputation with the application of kinetic energy, if called upon to do so.

So, happily, Bob Hope lived for many more years and Ann Margret is still with us today. Mission accomplished!