Ep 68: The Fog of War and Humanity with Richard Acritelli and guest Frank Asselta on hmTv

In Episode 68 of The Fog of War and Humanity, host Rich Acritelli sits down with Vietnam combat medic Frank Asselta to trace his journey from a small‑town Long Island childhood through the crucible of Southeast Asia’s fiercest battles. Frank recounts being drafted in 1965, his cold‑weather training at Fort Dix, and the reality‑shattering field medicine he improvised on the front lines—serving two back‑to‑back tours with a reconnaissance platoon under fire. He reflects on the toll of PTSD and his choice to forego traditional counseling, then pivots to life after service: earning a marine‑science degree, building a career in public works, and today channeling his experience into community healing. Tune in to hear how a reluctant warrior became a peacetime advocate—organizing Rocky Point’s annual 5K run to fund PTSD support for fellow veterans—and discover the humanity that persists even in the fog of war. 

Transcript

Rich Acritelli: Hello and thank you for joining me today. I’m your host, Rich Acritelli, and on today’s episode of The Fog of War and Humanity here on HMTV, my special guest is Army combat medic and Vietnam veteran Mr. Frank Asselta. He’ll join me for a conversation about his military service in Southeast Asia during the Vietnam War. Here we go, Frank—let’s get started.

Rich: Frank, where did you grow up?

Frank Asselta: I was born in Brooklyn but grew up in Rocky Point, out on Long Island’s North Shore.

Rich: What schools did you attend?

Frank: I started in Brooklyn, then went to Joseph Edgar School, Port Jefferson High School, and later Suffolk Community College before I was drafted.

Rich: Rocky Point was once just a summer community, but you’ve seen it change over the years.

Frank: Yes—now it’s year‑round, and the character of the community has shifted a lot since the ’50s.

Rich: What did you enjoy doing out East?

Frank: I’m a sailor and a pilot—expensive hobbies, but I love quiet locations and being out on the water or in the sky.

Rich: Back in high school you played sports?

Frank: I continued playing baseball and football, even tried basketball my freshman year—found out quickly I was out of my league!

Rich: You graduated Port Jefferson in ’63, then went on to Suffolk Community College.

Frank: Right—I wasn’t sure why, but I tested in at the last minute so my name would appear on the grads’ list. I spent two years there, graduating in ’65, then got my draft notice in December of that year.

Rich: Did it come as a surprise?

Frank: Not really—I’d been hoping to become a Navy pilot, but as soon as that draft notice arrived, those plans ended. I expected it, but I still wasn’t thrilled.

Rich: Had any family served before you?

Frank: Nobody. I was the first.

Rich: You began training at Fort Dix that December?

Frank: Yes—eight weeks in the snow, learning about frostbite and cold‑weather injuries nobody in Vietnam needed to know. Then ten weeks of medical training in San Antonio, learning procedures I wouldn’t use overseas. They didn’t prepare us for combat‑medic work in a jungle war.

Rich: As the war escalated, did the Army improve that training?

Frank: Not really. When I arrived in Vietnam in mid‑1966, I dumped the inadequate “A‑kit,” made my own field packs full of ace bandages, and upped my morphine shots from five to fifteen. I carried an M16 until it jammed, then switched to a shotgun or grease gun. I looked like any infantryman until someone called for “Doc!”

Rich: When did you deploy, and where?

Frank: We sailed for a month from Boston on the General R. L. Howze, through the Panama Canal and Long Beach, finally arriving in Vietnam. I first spent about seven months near Tay Ninh, west of Saigon near the Cambodian border, then moved with the brigade to Chu Lai. Almost immediately, we were thrown into four major operations: Junction City, Cedar Falls, and two others. These were the war’s biggest battles—and we weren’t acclimatized or properly equipped.

Rich: You were attached to a reconnaissance platoon?

Frank: Yes—recon got the “dirty jobs.” I spent six months at the front, then should have rotated to a stationary battalion aid station, but after a little incident in Saigon, I got sent right back out to the front—another six‑month tour. Few medics did two front‑line terms.

Rich: You carried both weapons and medical supplies?

Frank: Always armed—M16, shotgun, grease gun—and my medical gear. I walked point and rear security like an infantryman until someone needed aid. Then I was “Doc,” and nothing else mattered. I was nineteen.

Rich: You treated countless wounded men at nineteen. That must have shaped you.

Frank: It did. I’m proud of saving lives, but I also carry PTSD. It doesn’t control my life, but I choke up sometimes—something I never did before the war.

Rich: After Junction City and other operations, did you ever get rest and recuperation?

Frank: Not really. We’d do a week or two in combat, then clean up and head right back out. Missions included blocking positions, flank security, recon for anti‑aircraft sites in Cambodia, night ambushes, and search‑and‑destroy raids. We even tracked Viet Cong rice shipments, sometimes bringing back prisoners or captured documents.

Rich: Did you ever worry about harvesting intel from dead enemy soldiers?

Frank: We had our own rules. Our recon platoon sometimes searched bodies for photos and papers. Intelligence teams handled most of that, but recon did what needed doing. It was war.

Rich: How long were you in Vietnam?

Frank: Eleven months total—just shy of a year.

Rich: After returning home, how did you handle reintegration?

Frank: I changed into civilian clothes on the troop ship, refused counseling and Prozac, and just left the military mindset behind. I caught a taxi home, surprised my mother, and avoided any discussion about the war. That was my coping method.

Rich: You then returned to school?

Frank: Yes—I applied for an early out so I could start Stony Brook University on time. I earned my B.S. in Marine Science.

Rich: You received a Bronze Star with “V” for valor?

Frank: They upgraded my orders and awarded the Bronze Star with “V” for acts of valor under fire—exposing myself to help wounded comrades.

Rich: After college, you worked at the Long Island Association of Commerce & Industry as a research analyst and public‑affairs aide?

Frank: Correct. Later I switched to public works, serving as village superintendent in Lindenhurst for 14 years, then East Hills for five, and retired at age 53.

Rich: And today you’re active organizing a 5K run to support PTSD treatment?

Frank: Yes—the Run for Resilience, held each spring in Rocky Point. It starts at the high school; proceeds fund the Joseph Dwyer Veteran Peer Support Project. The course is challenging, runs through town and woods, and we’ve added veterans’ honors, buglers, fire‑department flags, and community support.

Rich: You’ve come full circle—from war medic to caring for fellow veterans with PTSD.

Frank: It’s rewarding. Combat medics have strange bonds; we’ve seen too much to forget. Helping others heal—physically or mentally—is what keeps me going.

Rich: Frank, thank you for sharing your story and service here on The Fog of War and Humanity. Welcome home—and thank you for your courage, Doc.

Frank: Thank you, Rich. It’s been an honor.

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