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One of the medics on the scene on January 8, 1968, found that Jon Hovde had no pulse in his left arm and pronounced him dead. The medic didn't know the arm, still in the shirt, had been
completely severed from the body.
Hovde, a member of the 25th Infantry Division, had been the driver of an Armored Personnel Carrier that day in Vietnam when his vehicle struck a land mine.
Hovde told his
story at the Fall Conference in Arden Hills, hosted by the Rosetown Memorial Post. He was one of several speakers in the Saturday afternoon session.
"More Vietnam veterans need to tell their story, if not to the
media, at least to their families. Their families need to know."
Hovde's story began when the mine struck the APC with such impact that the vehicle's engine was blown a half a football field away.
The
explosion severed both Hovde's left arm and leg. His right arm and leg were so badly damaged that he received 185 wire stitches in his arm and 190 wire stitches in his leg. He also had a fractured skull and a
crushed right foot.
"I don't remember anything for six days. That's when I woke up."
The waking up was not pleasant. "What I wanted to do was die. I was in intense pain. Half my body was gone. But then the
chaplain walked in."
The chaplain convinced Hovde to fight for his life. He told him how many letters he had received, and he read two of them -- one from his mother and one from his girlfriend.
The letters
gave him reason to live, but he was far from over the hump from his horrendous injuries.
His temperature rose to 107 degrees, and doctors ordered an ice blanket -- a device sort of like an air mattress filled
with freezing water.
After many hours, and the fever still raging, a doctor said another ice blanket would be needed.
"I was naked and I was freezing. I said, 'Doc, what could be more deluxe than this
one?'" It turns out they wanted the second ice blanket to put on top of him.
Now he was covered head to foot with the ice blankets, and his head was packed in ice on three sides.
"Now I'm really cold.
For three days I was afraid to fall asleep. I was afraid I'd die."
The doctor examined Hovde and frankly told him that he was likely to die. "I said, 'Doc, you can't kill a Norwegian, and you know it."
Again,
on the ice blanket, he was pronounced dead. "There's no signal, they cover you up, and then there's a beep."
With his life hanging by a thread, Hovde made three vows in a pact with God should he recover.
The
first was to own the fastest car in Polk County. The second was to never depend of the government for a living. And the third was to make a difference."
He spend 23 days in intensive care, but, slowly, Hovde did
recover -- and far beyond what the doctors foretold.
He married his girlfriend, Darlene, nine and one-half months after he was blown up in the APC.
And he kept his vows. He got a a '68 Dodge Charger that
terrorized the county, he graduated from college and went to work at 3M, and he tried to make a difference.
Part of that difference making was to run for the local school board. That experience culminated in 1986
when he was elected president of the 2,200 member Minnesota School Boards Association, a position he held for two years.
He has spoken many times over the years to school groups, and his most coveted possession
is a scrapbook of letters he has received through the years from school students who have heard him speak.
"I'm more proud of these letters than I am of my Purple Hearts," he said. "When I'm having a tough day, I
get them out an read a few of them."
Hovde these days continues to tell his story, in schools, to veterans groups, and other places. He is also writing a book titled "Wings on Fire" about his journey. It should
be out next year.
He and his wife operate a quarter horse farm near his hometown of Fertile. Last year he took up golf, and now he can hit a ball 165 yards with one arm.
"Don't ever tell me that I can't do
something."
Hovde said Vietnam vets have been silent too long about their experiences. "The kids are dying to hear these stories. It's such a powerful connection we can make, and so quickly.
"One of the
reasons I travel around and tell my story is that it might encourage other Vietnam veterans to open up."
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