Final sacrifice

When Alfredo Gonzalez was 9 years old, he watched John Wayne war movies.

As a teenager, the Edinburg native worked in the fields picking crops. He played football and followed the high school basketball team.

He dreamed of going to college so he could become a teacher and a coach, said his mother, Dolia Gonzalez.

But more than anything, he wanted to be a U.S. Marine. A little more than 40 years ago, the 21-year-old Marine Corps platoon sergeant was killed during his second tour of duty in Vietnam.

On Feb. 4, 1968, Gonzalez fell mortally wounded after almost singlehandedly taking out an enemy emplacement that had inflicted heavy casualties on his pinned-down company during the Tet Offensive.

Almost two years later, Dolia accepted her son's Medal of Honor from Vice President Spiro Agnew.

The citation concludes: "He gallantly gave his life for his country."

Eventually, schools and military buildings, an American Legion post, boulevards, a veterans home and even a Navy guided-missile destroyer were all named in his honor.

Gonzalez would have been 62 on May 23.

Dolia lost her only son. Now 77, she continues her longstanding routine of getting up early in the morning to work as a waitress. But she carries with her a big void in her life and still grieves over the loss of a son who died so young.

But she doesn't blame anyone for persuading her son to join the Marines and give his life for his country, his mother said.

"He didn't have to do it. He was gung ho," Dolia said. He achieved his goal of becoming a brave Marine, giving his all to defeat the enemy and do his best to protect the men who served under him, she said.

PRELUDE TO WAR
Pete Vela of Edinburg said he and his late brother Robert grew up next door to Freddy Gonzalez.

"Freddy and I were in the same class, the Class of 1965," Vela said. "He was my football teammate. The best thing I remember about him was he was an overachiever.

"He was kind of small, but he was a true friend. He was very protective."

"In high school, we would congregate at night to play basketball (at Westside Park)," Vela said. "A guy we knew was a Golden Gloves boxer. He came over with two pairs of boxing gloves, daring any of us to take him on."

Gonzalez didn't know how to box, but he tried anyway as the other boy kept taunting him, Vela said.

"He would jab him and jab him," Vela said. "(Gonzalez) got tired of that kid and put him in a headlock. We had to pull him off. I guess Freddy would show his machismo."

Vela never forgot his lost friend. When the USS Gonzalez was launched in February 1995, Vela and his wife traveled to Bath, Maine, for the ceremony, he said.

Gonzalez was never swept up in the wild times of the 1960s. In high school, Freddy did not grow his hair long as many others did, his mother said. The dissent of that era had no attraction for him. He would soon be living his boyhood dream of becoming a Marine.

"He was too busy with football," she said. "When he wasn't playing football, he was following the basketball team. It was the same group. ... On weekends he used to go mow lawns to make money."

There was no stopping Freddy when he said he wanted to sign up for the Marine Corps, his mother said.

Even though he was enthusiastic about serving his country and was very brave in battle, Freddy would not have worn any tattoos, his mother said.

In those days, tattoos were only for sailors, convicts and carnival workers, she said.

"Freddy was not that sort of a guy. He was clean-cut. .... To him, that was dirty," she said. "Everybody has them now, all over their bodies. Even the women."

Her memories of Freddy are brief but precious, Dolia said.

"I was 16½ when he was born, 35 when he graduated from school, 37 when I lost him," she said.

"I only saw my kid three times when he was in the service," Dolia said. "He only came home after boot camp, he came back in ‘67 after his first tour in Vietnam, and he came to tell me he was going back," she said, her voice cracking.

He was home on leave after his first tour in Vietnam when he told her he was volunteering for a second tour. Although she was proud of his patriotism and bravery, she didn't want him to go back.

"The second time, yes," she said when asked if she tried to talk him out of it.

"But he said ‘No.' He had to go." He was determined, she said.

Freddy had learned that some Marines from his unit had been killed and he felt guilty because he was not with them, even though he had completed his assignment there, his mother said.

On July 1, 1967, he was promoted to sergeant and sent back to Vietnam. He was now a squad leader and platoon sergeant with 3rd Platoon Company A, 1st Battalion, 1st Marines, 1st Marine Division (Rein), Fleet Marine Force.

BATTLE OF HUE
On Jan. 31, 1968, Gonzalez was the sergeant in charge of a platoon of Marines bringing relief to Hue City in a truck convoy. His platoon officer had been wounded and evacuated.

As they neared the village of Lang Van Lrong, Viet Cong soldiers in civilian garb attacked. Gonzalez and his men fought back.

One Marine on top of a tank was hit and fell off. Gonzalez was wounded when he ran through heavy fire to retrieve the wounded man.

On Feb. 3, he was wounded again, but refused medical treatment, ordering Navy hospital corpsmen to instead to care for other Marines.

On Feb. 4, Gonzalez and his platoon engaged Viet Cong who were holed up in St. Joan of Arc Catholic Church in Hue City, firing at the Americans with rockets and automatic weapons.

Gonzalez took on the Viet Cong by firing LAW (light anti-tank weapon) rockets.

"Sgt. Gonzalez, utilizing a number of light antitank assault weapons, fearlessly moved from position to position firing numerous rounds at the heavily fortified enemy emplacements," his citation reads.

When firing ceased, Gonzalez believed all Viet Cong in the church were killed. But one survivor shot and killed him.

Unlike a typical Hollywood scenario in which a war hero's mother goes to the door to find a scared telegraph boy delivering the news her son had been killed, she was not even home, Dolia said.

"I was working in a restaurant downtown," Dolia said, recalling the day she got the news.

A policeman and a Marine Corps recruiter went to her workplace to deliver the bad news, she said. "They knew me very well. They called me ‘the little bitty one' because I was always skinny."

Tears came to her eyes as she recalled how the Edinburg community surrounded her with love and support after her son was brought home to be buried at Hillcrest Memorial Park.

"I cannot complain about my community," she said. Moral support from friends and neighbors continues.

HONORED HERO
Nearly two years after Freddy's death, a Marine captain accompanied Dolia on a trip to Washington, D.C., for her son's posthumous decoration. On Oct. 31, 1969, in a ceremony in chambers of the U.S. House of Representatives on Capitol Hill, Agnew presented her with the Medal of Honor that her son had earned with his life.

"I remember very little," Dolia said about the ceremony. "My mind was somewhere else. My mind was on my son."

Honors would continue during the ensuing years, including the naming of a warship after the hero.

In 1995, more than 1,000 VIPs witnessed Dolia christening the USS Gonzalez.

"I believe Freddy was there helping me swing that bottle of champagne," she said. "Children came over for me to sign their books. They were so nice."

Each year, she meets with Marine veterans who served with Freddy. She calls them "my boys."

At the Echo Hotel and Conference Center, where she now works, photos of her son and the ship named after him are prominently displayed.

Each time another Rio Grande Valley Marine or soldier dies in Iraq or Afghanistan, she feels the pain their mothers are suffering, she said.

More than the medal, more than the schools and the streets and all the other accolades, Freddy would have wanted to be known for something else, his mother said.

"He took care of his men. That is what he would want people to remember him by."
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