Bayou Outdoors: My Nam Buddy

article by Dan Chason

IT IS A LONG WAY FROM DELHI, LOUISIANA TO THE jungles of South Vietnam. For a young Doyle McEacharn (pronounced McCan) that adventure started a the young age of 18, when he was drafted into the United States Army.

If you fast forward a few years, I can vividly remember the man I noticed sitting quietly in a concealed carry class that I was teaching about 6 years ago. Years are quite noticeable on Doyle, but don’t let the wrinkles fool you. He is one tough hombé.. I soon became fast friends with him and have enjoyed many an hour on a boat or in the woods chasing squirrels with this remarkable man. As with most Vietnam veterans, Doyle rarely talks about that period of his life, but when he does, there comes a quiet calm in the air and a change in his eyes that I can only interpret as good yet disturbing memories.

Doyle was raised in Delhi and embarked on his military career straight out of high school. First it was to Ft. Bliss Texas for basic, then another 6 weeks of “fun” at Fort Leonard Wood in Missouri for advanced infantry training school. Doyle’s assignment was one that is crucial in a country like Vietnam, where he worked to keep a steady supply of clean water for the troops as a member of the water purification team. He first landed in Vietnam just two weeks after AIT school to a strange environment and a strange land. To put it in his words, “I was ready for adventure but had no idea what I had walked into. Hell, I was barely starting to shave.” This was the case with most of his brothers in arms. Young kids, sent to fight a war nobody understood for a cause they all loved: Protecting America and our freedom.

His first “hooch” or living quarters was in a large fenced in enclosure described to be much like a prison. Days were spent searching for a suitable water source with nights assigned to guard duty to protect his fellow soldiers. His main job was to support the engineers, who were there to maintain roads and to attempt to create infrastructure for not only the military presence but the people who called Vietnam home.

Doyle relates that memorable times were simple. Trying to find that connection to home. Letters were the big thing, but he says that when he found a female dog that took a liking to him, it was the way he was able to maintain some sanity in the chaos. Tending to her and then her puppies became his connection to what he missed.

He speaks of close calls. One where a mortar literally blew up at the door of his underground bunker, a sniper’s bullet that literally splattered the metal of the truck he was in just inches from his head and then THE shot. Doyle and a group of comrades were playing poker in a bunker. The door was protected by a six foot pile of sand bags. Somehow, a Viet Cong rifleman fired an errant shot that fell into the bunker, striking Doyle’s partner in the ring finger. It was a million to one shot, according to Doyle, but a reminder to wear your helmet, even if you had a pair of aces in your hand.

The thing I love about Doyle is his attitude. When fishing, he is always ready for that next bite. Doyle is an accomplished angler and makes me laugh every time he catches a fish. He makes this grunting sound when bit and doesn’t even realize he does it. He can hold his own with a crappie pole, but his passion is squirrel hunting with a dog. His face literally lights up when he sees a squirrel.

We have spent many a day hunting and fishing together. I look forward to our weekly trips, and never forget that this fine man is one of many who served this country proudly and are the reason I am able to enjoy the great outdoors and my freedom today. Doyle is one of my many real life heroes, who I am proud to call my friend.