Martin Allen "Pete" Rowe

I was born in Henrietta, Oklahoma, in 1932. I had several older siblings. My father was a blacksmith at a zinc factory, which served as the economic foundation for the town of 7,000 residents. I met my wife in the seventh grade; we became close, eventually married, and attended college together. We were blessed with two children, though we tragically lost our daughter, Mollie, twelve years ago in 2014, to ovarian cancer. From this relationship, we now have a large extended family, including twelve grandchildren and eight great-grandchildren. My parents met in the small town of Davis, Oklahoma, where they were farmers. In 1933, my father left the farm to work at the Zinc factory in Henrietta. 

The zinc ore was placed in long furnaces, where it would vaporize and then condense into lustrous cakes of zinc. This zinc was the primary component in galvanized roofing. My mother’s name was Mattie May Marvin, and my father’s name was Martin Allen Rowe, which is how I received my name. I am generally known as Pete. My father explained that during one of his farming projects, there was a mule named Pete that was constantly lively, and as I emulated this behavior, he began calling me Pete. My father passed away at the age of 67, which was attributed to the demands of his hard work, and my mother died of leukemia at the age of 74. She had emigrated from Germany.

I did not interact much with my siblings, as they were significantly older. Consequently, I was raised somewhat as an only child. I played the trombone in the high school band, as did my wife. In college, I majored in brass. My wife and I both received scholarships to Oklahoma A&M, which was later renamed Oklahoma State University.

During my high school years, I was an avid reader and maintained a commendable disciplinary record. I developed a strong interest in investigative pursuits. My wife and I have always enjoyed engaging in activities together. In 2026, my wife Barbara Jean and I returned from a trip to Olustee, Florida, where we attended a Civil War reenactment. We are currently preparing for another reenactment in Jefferson, Texas. My granddaughter will be taking our great grandchildren to witness that event.

My wife and I first met in the 7th Grade. I was seated at the back of the classroom during English class when a young girl, accompanied by an older girl, entered. Her name was Barbara Jean, and she has been my wife for 74 years. While many people express skepticism regarding “love at first sight,” upon seeing her, I immediately knew I wanted to marry her. Initially, we walked to the movies as I was unable to drive, but by the time we were sophomores, we were driving. We married on September 5, 1951, while attending college.

Our entertainment included “Teen Town,” organized by the elders, where we maintained a musical ensemble. Her father, a Methodist minister, eventually permitted her to attend with me. In retrospect, it was a transitional period. Upon marriage, our focus shifted to establishing ourselves financially. We received a small sum from my parents, and our combined income was fifty dollars. I managed a band, the O’Collegants, earning eighty-seven dollars per engagement.

The six of us performed for sororities and fraternities and secured contracts, including engagements at Fort Sill. After compensating the band members, my share was seventeen dollars and fifty cents. A significant event occurred when my wife and I, married for fifteen months, welcomed our daughter, Mollie. Barbara had to withdraw from school, but I continued with the ROTC. During my Junior year, I attended camp at Fort Gordon, Georgia.

 I received a very important letter from a superintendent of schools in a small town called Ripley, Oklahoma. They were losing their band director and requested that I interview for the position. I secured the job and continued my studies during my Junior and Senior years.

Mollie was born 2 years later in 1952, and my son Mark was also born in 1952. I continued directing my band, finished my degree, and decided to pursue my Master’s degree in music. I maintained my position directing that band in Ripley, while also teaching some other classes. I was there for 3 years.

I was required to join the ROTC as it was a stipulation of the land-grant college I attended. I graduated as an ROTC Major and was concurrently running the band. The greatest joy during that period was the birth of my children.

My interest in pursuing music was significantly influenced by a band director who had recently returned from World War II. He assumed leadership of our band and elevated it to a state-contending level. I admired his character. The individual who attended summer camp was the director at Oklahoma A&M and recommended me, which led to securing that position—a pivotal point in my career. Consequently, during my senior year, we relocated to that small town and resided in a house for forty-five dollars a month. As a violin major, I would practice in the basement. Although my preferred instrument was the trombone, I also played the French Horn, and my wife was proficient on the saxophone and flutes.

I was selected to attend the Command & General Staff College. She attended St. Mary’s in Leavenworth, where she majored in Home Economics. Our marriage was successful due to our consistent ability to collaborate.

I was drafted because I was enrolled in the Reserve Officers’ Training Corps (ROTC). With World War II underway, I was commissioned as a 2nd Lieutenant. We initially anticipated a two-year commitment, but we later received a memorandum indicating that our service would only be required for six months. While attending officer school at Fort London, NJ, I noticed a bulletin on the stairway of the old barracks building advertising an opportunity to attend flight school and earn higher pay. Given that I was nearing the completion of my current training, and my wife and I enjoyed traveling, we decided to pursue this option. My wife joined me at the conclusion of the three-week course, and I asked her what she thought about me attending flight school and remaining in the Army for an additional two or three years. I suggested we might even secure an overseas tour to Germany. Consequently, we proceeded with the plan.

I attended flight school for one year, after which I was assigned to Fort Monmouth, flying for the Signal Corps. From 1959 to 1960, I received orders for a deployment to Korea. As an added benefit, I was informed that I would also be sent to helicopter school en route. Consequently, I traveled to Texas for a 10-week helicopter training course at Camp Wolters in Mineral Wells. Having already gained significant knowledge of helicopters at Fort Monmouth, I possessed a considerable degree of proficiency in piloting the aircraft.

The Army Aviation group was disbanded in 1946, leading to the creation of the Air Force. This change left the Army’s role as observation and liaison, which involved transporting Generals. I was trained to pilot various aircraft, such as the Bird Dog, a small liaison plane equipped with rockets on the skids. These rockets were used to fire at targets, signaling to the Air Force the location of a larger target. The aircraft featured internal racks capable of accommodating bombs, rockets, machine guns, or luggage.

I arrived at Camp Wolters in July. Upon completing flight school, I was assigned to Fort Monmouth to fly for the Signal Corps Electronics Technology. We were all part of the Signal Corps and wore small wings. At the labs in Monmouth, numerous personnel from Bell and Motorola were installing instruments in the aircraft, and we would conduct extensive flight tests. This assignment was relatively short-lived, as I was deployed to Korea in 1959. I attended helicopter school through 1960 for a duration of 10 weeks. Subsequently, I returned to ground duty and was given command of a platoon of 10 men. The officers piloting the aircraft could be Signal Corps officers. In this battalion, I commanded 37 men and 15 trucks, all equipped with long-distance radio communication. We were positioned directly on the DMZ.

The previous commander, also a Captain, was relieved of his duties due to issues he caused within the local village, and I was subsequently appointed as commander. We instituted mandatory inspections every Saturday morning. I emphasized the importance of presenting a sharp appearance, which fostered strong esprit de corps and resulted in our platoon becoming the most exemplary unit in the area.

Each month, a whistle or bell was sounded at 3:00 a.m. to summon personnel out of bed to retrieve their gear and proceed to their battle stations. We had a Black Sergeant, distinguished by three stripes, who was assigned the duty of retrieving ammunition from the bunker. This was necessitated because the Signal Corps had been overrun during the Korean War, and our unit was heavily armed with large machine guns and rocket launchers. The Buck Sergeant was required to retrieve the ordnance by 2:00 or 3:00 a.m. I later received orders to report to Fort Benjamin Harris, where I encountered this same Buck Sergeant; he was now pursuing an E-9 rank.

When we were in a platoon together, he was restricted by his Military Occupational Specialty (MOS), meaning the unit no longer had a need for personnel in that specific MOS. Therefore, we needed to locate a school that would allow him to change his MOS. I informed him of a means by which we could be flown to Pusan to investigate the town and determine how to enroll in the necessary school. By attending that six-week course, he successfully changed his MOS from a lineman to a Long Range Microwave Technician. The Army was promoting men with this new specialty, and he subsequently became a Buck Sergeant. I never saw him again after that.

My deployment in the area lasted 13 months, as President Kennedy suspended the pipeline project, requiring an extended tour of 90 days for all personnel. I was eventually able to return home in February following the resolution of the pipeline suspension.

I received the Purple Heart for actions taken on December 16, 1966. On that day, I was flying with four gunships alongside fourteen transport helicopters, which were inserting personnel into a village. The area was experiencing heavy enemy fire and operational challenges. An enemy round struck the rocket pod on the left side of our aircraft, resulting in a loud flash, and the aircraft pitched up. The pilot sustained ruptured eardrums. Shrapnel from one of the exploding rockets penetrated the cabin and broke my leg. Despite the ongoing engagement, we successfully flew back to the base camp where I was offloaded and transferred to an air ambulance, known as a ‘Dust Off,’ which transported me to the 67th Army MASH Hospital in Quy Nhơn.

We were consistently aware of the threats. Each morning, we would rise at 4:00 a.m., and gunships would accompany our flights, engaging in suppressive fire on nearby villages to provide cover. Sleep was difficult due to the continuous artillery fire throughout the night. On one particular night, a large 175mm self-propelled unit arrived, and from my position near LZ English, those batteries commenced firing their heavy ordnance. We were mandated by Division decree to sleep on the ground rather than on cots because of the frequent mortar attacks. We quickly learned the value of positioning our tents on a significant slope, as heavy rains could quickly cause flooding. Consequently, we dug trenches along the high ground. The rapid growth of vegetation allowed us to place sod around the perimeter of the tent, effectively creating a substantial moat to divert the rainwater.

I was a patient at that MASH hospital for 12 days, beginning on December 16th. I was evacuated on Christmas Eve to the 249th Hospital in Japan. We had a layover in Manila for the night before proceeding to Tokyo, where it was snowing. I was still wearing my flip-flops. After four months, I returned to my unit.

My unit was the 1st Cavalry Division, 229th Assault Helicopter Battalion, Company D. It should be understood that Companies A, B, and C were all lift companies, responsible for troop transport. Company C operated a Chinook Helicopter, while Company D was equipped with 12 gunships. The lift ships were configured with a larger engine and carried 12 to 15 guns. In contrast, the gunships were configured differently, carrying 14 rockets and 7,200 rounds of 7.62 caliber, small machine guns. Four of these were hydraulically driven. Additionally, we had two personnel in the back operating machine guns.

We slept in close proximity to our aircraft. We would establish defensive positions around our gunships on hillsides, as there were no established facilities. We often had four helicopters positioned on one creek bank and four on the opposite. At every stop, we would excavate a foxhole for cover in the event of incoming fire.

The 1st Cavalry Division was stationed in An Khê. This location, nicknamed “The Golf Course,” had been cleared from the jungle by the 1st Cavalry in 1965 and housed 465 assorted helicopters. It featured a mess hall situated on the opposite side. I did not land there. However, upon his arrival, we observed an individual who had been chewing Beech-Nut and had written in large letters…

Upon my return from the DMZ, I was assigned the headquarters company instead of the gun company. This unit was informally known as “Ash & Trash” because our duties involved drafting citations for medal recipients and ensuring the efficient operation of the mess halls. The cooking grates were in deplorable condition, so we thoroughly cleaned them with hot water and procured two large metal slabs from the engineering department to enable proper egg preparation, thus avoiding the use of powdered or boxed eggs. Furthermore, we located two substantial metal containers, comparable in size to a Dempsey dumpster, and drilled holes in them to construct makeshift showers.

The officer I replaced was a West Point graduate who exhibited a lack of diligence and commitment to the welfare of the troops. We maintained an amicable working relationship despite this. Establishing operational efficiency in the headquarters company was achieved with the same ease as organizing the platoon in the DMZ.

I recall the significant weight loss we experienced in Korea due to inadequate provisions. The officers, however, were sufficiently provisioned owing to their exclusive club. Upon my return home, the extent of my weight loss was evident. I also remember the rigorous training and excellent physical conditioning we maintained. I personally did not interact with the local villages, but my men did. They would visit the villages with the intention of marrying the local women, and I spent a considerable amount of time advising them against these unions. The villagers did not enter our area because we were situated within guarded compounds.

Due to the constant rain, the windshield wipers frequently scratched the glass, so we resorted to using toothpaste. We had an abundance of toothpaste thanks to the care packages we received, which also contained stationery, chewing tobacco, and shoe polish.

“While I did not experience fear in Korea, I did in Vietnam. A cherished memory involves photographs of ourselves with the children. We did receive some mail through the Armed Forces Post Office (APO), but the delivery was often erratic. I might receive three letters simultaneously, or I might not hear back for a month. I would become frustrated with Barb, believing she was not writing, and would go to sleep angry. Receiving four letters at the same time diminished their individual significance. This was also the period when we received taped messages, and I have been searching for ten years for a tape player with which to listen to them again.”

My training involved Huey helicopters, and while I was initially stationed in Hieldburg, I was subsequently sent to Stuttgart for two weeks of additional Huey training, specifically focused on armament familiarization. These helicopters were equipped with four machine guns, fourteen rockets, and 7,200 rounds of ammunition. I was at Camp Wolters in Mineral Wells and sent Barb back to the residence we had discussed before deploying directly to Vietnam in 1966. I joined the 1st Cavalry Division, 229th Armed Helicopter Battalion. Our operations were conducted in the Bon Song plains in the southern region of the country—an undeveloped, remote area without towns.

The entirety of Vietnam was organized into firebases or Landing Zones (LZs), with conditions being quite rudimentary, including the digging of holes for latrines. With a Division strength of 17,000 to 19,000 personnel, there was a continuous hope of remaining close to a laundry facility to maintain clean uniforms. The evening pickup of troops was often the most hazardous time. The returning soldiers were typically dirty from traversing villages, prompting a search for shower units. These units consisted of two large trucks that would draw water from rice paddies and feed four spray units equipped with nozzles. Upon arrival, we were always issued a fresh bar of soap. The shower units, identifiable by the pots and the accompanying piles of approximately 400 to 600 bars of soap, indicated where the units had been utilized for cleaning.

We utilized names on our clothing to facilitate the retrieval of laundered garments from the designated laundry trucks. On occasion, we would send our clothing to an adjacent village, approximately three to four kilometers distant, for cleaning. However, the villagers would dry and starch the garments over dried animal dung, which resulted in an unpleasant odor when the humidity increased. Consequently, I favored the use of the official laundry trucks.

I did keep a starched pair, and upon my return to Ash & Trash, I was informed that I would be awarded the Silver Star. A large formation was planned, and fortunately, I possessed this starched uniform. A Loach helicopter was shot down, likely in October 1966, and there were hostile forces in a marshy area near the Sea Orca Lake. I was contacted and instructed to proceed to the location and take action. Consequently, I traveled there, took another helicopter, and we began firing rockets and machine guns at the enemy. We maintained the engagement until those personnel were extracted. Ultimately, the individuals responsible for shooting down the Loach surrendered. While this was generally perceived as remarkable, we were simply performing our duty.

Our operations involved venturing into the jungle clearings, often created by large explosive charges. We navigated areas with triple canopy. Each morning, the ground-pounder infantry would designate a village or area for insertion, anticipating significant Viet Cong presence, thus requiring a substantial troop deployment. Consequently, we would assemble a fleet of lift ships and load them with soldiers, typically twelve per aircraft. We would then take off, escorted by two gunships, and proceed toward the Landing Zone (LZ). The method for locating the LZ involved artillery firing a white phosphorus round, creating a visible white cloud for all units.

As we approached, airborne assets would provide suppression fire from above with 42 tubes, targeting potential hostile fire from the village. Loaches and other aircraft would also engage the tops of the trees. This procedure was executed seven days a week, commencing in the early morning. We might subsequently be recalled to return to these same areas with the same ships. We would return and “daisy chain” until the main lift ships arrived. The enemy would often return and follow our troops after their departure.

I received a 20% VA disability rating for hearing loss. At the time, I considered this sufficient, as I was focused on establishing a real estate business and did not pursue a higher rating. I served in a region with Agent Orange exposure. I worked with Maria Williams, the Veterans Service Officer, who provided substantial assistance. The only circumstance under which we would require additional funds is if any of us needed memory care, as those costs would rapidly deplete our financial resources.

In Vietnam, moments capable of boosting morale were scarce. Timely delivery of mail provided such a lift. Furthermore, a shrimp cocktail was an obligatory dish for the troops at Thanksgiving, signifying a substantial occasion. However, serving a shrimp cocktail on the Bong Son plateau seemed utterly improbable. Nevertheless, it was served to all units across Vietnam, Korea, and other locations.

Due to persistent issues with our gunships, we transported one to Quin Wan for necessary repairs. While there, I had a meal with a group of other pilots. The Otter was widely considered the most proficient aircraft available. The manager of the local machine shop requested a flight in the Otter, so I took him up. Although he was not a skilled pilot, he did operate an excellent machine shop. During the flight, he inadvertently piloted the aircraft almost to the southern border and ended up damaging a wing on a telephone pole. Subsequently, I traveled to Quin An while the helicopter was undergoing repairs. I visited the shanty hut where I discovered a placard stating, “S bucking bar was found in triple three,” referencing a repair conducted in Sumner, New Mexico. The repair was executed in the sky, and the placard is currently located in the ready room in Quin Lan.

Our unit was deployed to White Sands at Holloman Air Force Base, where personnel from both the Army and the Air Force were present. I was there with five aircraft, conducting flights along the range to test the efficacy of the electronic equipment.

My deployment in Vietnam extended from July to December 31st of the same year. I returned in April 1967. We were assigned to the same operational area. LZ English was subjected to destruction and continuous fire for three days during the Tet Offensive.

A call came in from a Sheriff. I was stationed at Fort Holliman, and my supervisor, who resided near the White Sands Missile Range, held the rank of Major in charge of the motor pool. While I was at the dinner table, I received a call originating from Silver City. The Sheriff informed me that he had received a report of a young French woman in the remote mountains who had sustained a broken back. He explained that local Native Americans were attempting to extract her, and the pain she was experiencing was severe, asking if I could provide assistance. I contacted Warrant Officer Darrel Green and instructed him to prepare the old OH-19 Sikorsky helicopter. We proceeded to Silver City to rendezvous with the Sheriff. I inquired about the timing of the mission, and he stated it would commence in the morning, offering us accommodation in the local jail cell for the night.

Warrant Officer Green and I slept in the jail—the only time I have ever been incarcerated. We woke at 4:00 a.m. as the Sheriff was assembling the first aid kits. This incident occurred in August 1961, during my assignment to Fort Holliman from 1960 to 1962. We departed and began flying up the river valley north of Silver City. The Native Americans had been attempting to carry her out, and her location was at an altitude of 6,000 feet, which was at the operational ceiling for that particular helicopter. Nevertheless, we successfully executed the rescue, retrieved the patient, and transported her to the hospital in Silver City. I was relieved not to face a court-martial, and subsequently, I was awarded a Peace Time Air Medal. I eventually received eight of these medals throughout my career. One Air Medal was typically awarded for every 25 hours of combat flight time, which we referred to as “CA time” or “combat time.”

Following her transport to the hospital, Sacorsky contacted me, as they had been informed that I had saved a girl north of Silver City. They wished to present me with their Flying S in recognition; thus, I possess a small silver S, though I would have preferred a Rolex watch.

The Turkish Brigade was positioned in the vicinity of our unit within the woods and was known to be a notably rugged contingent. I was transporting some radios for repair, but the batteries had been left in for an extended period, resulting in corrosion. This, however, was inconsequential, as the Turkish Brigade utilized whistles for communication. Furthermore, I have received information suggesting they are currently engaged in efforts in Iran to draw them into the conflict.

I was informed of my scheduled departure for home in August 1967. We were aware of our rotation dates upon arrival in Vietnam, leading us to create D-Row calendars, which are marked off daily. D-Row stands for Days Of Rotation Overseas.

I was immediately sent to Savannah, Georgia, where I was assigned the task of instructing seventeen Warrant Officers in helicopter instrument flight.

I served as a reserve officer throughout this period. Upon my separation from active military service, I had a final deployment before concluding my military tenure. I was assigned to the Signal Corps, stationed at the Pentagon, where approximately 10,000 Americans were working to return to their normal routines. My specific responsibility involved the procurement of single-channel radios for the Signal Corps, which included satellite downlink capabilities. This work was classified as top secret. The protracted timelines often associated with completing tasks at the Pentagon were primarily due to the extensive documentation required. We internally referred to the process as the “Candy Stripe Project” because of the voluminous paperwork—sometimes involving 12 to 15 different documents—that needed final approval. The “tank” was the term used for the location where these final decisions were made.

My time at the Pentagon was highly instrumental in my career development. I had previously commanded a Signal Corps battalion in Germany. I arrived at the Pentagon on my birthday in 1966. That year, I was selected for promotion to full colonel with subsequent orders to attend the Industrial College. Instead, I chose to retire. I was honored with the Legion of Merit for my significant study in military manpower.

Despite some Generals requesting my continued service, we opted to conclude my tenure following five years of deployment in Germany.

My tour in Germany commenced in 1964, and my wife accompanied me. Initially, I served as a pilot, transporting Generals to their designated posts, and I also held the position of a maintenance officer.

The second deployment involved serving as a Lieutenant Colonel, where I was assigned responsibility for the 68th Signal Battalion. My duties encompassed maintaining the operational readiness of 42 microwave sites, extending from Frankfurt’s hilltop locations down to Switzerland. This command oversaw approximately 509 personnel.

Germany remains my favorite, as I was able to visit Rome and Venice and learned to ski in Austria which proved to be the most memorable country with its snowy evenings and cuisine of cheese and boiled ham.

My wife is an attractive and beautiful lady. She was selected to be the president of the Generals’ Wives’ Club and excelled in the role. She sewed several costumes, including Raggedy Ann and Andy, while we were in Stuttgart. We maintained a satellite connection with the 7th Corps.

I always believed that 75% of my career success was due to my marriage to an attractive, articulate woman. She maintained excellent relations with the Generals’ wives.

My initial return from Germany led directly to deployment in Vietnam. Following my second tour, I transferred to the Pentagon in 1975 and subsequently retired in June 1977.

Upon graduating and completing the ROTC program, I pursued a Master’s degree, and subsequently, I was assigned to a holding group for a period of 22 years.

Upon my retirement, I concluded my involvement with Aviation. Although I possessed a civilian license, I did not utilize it. I had an ambition to construct a KR2 aircraft in my garage; however, I never completed the project. The aircraft was composed entirely of wood, plastic, and foam.

However, I was also establishing a real estate business acquiring aging apartment buildings. My son and daughter, along with their children, were residing in Maryland, so I arranged for them to relocate to Texas. They remain here to this day. I have resided at the Eagle Nest for four decades.

Wisdom

Moderation. We go to bed at 10pm and get up at 6am. Don’t be overweight, don’t fight, and get along with your kids. My wife and I were superior together. 

Enjoy the simple things. — Pete Rowe

 

Endnote

ROTC Summer Camp — Fort Gordon, Georgia

Junior-year ROTC cadets from colleges across the country were sent to Fort Gordon for their mandatory summer training. This was the Army’s way of testing whether a cadet had the discipline, leadership, and physical stamina to become an officer.

The Environment

Fort Gordon (near Augusta, Georgia) was known for:

• Hot, humid summers
• Red clay dust that turned to mud after rain
• Pine forests and rolling hills
• Long training days beginning before sunrise

 

Cadets lived in open-bay barracks, marched everywhere, and were expected to maintain strict military discipline.

What ROTC Cadets Did at Fort Gordon

Training was designed to mirror the first phase of officer training. Pete would have completed:

 Leadership Reaction Courses

Obstacle-based team challenges where cadets had to:

• Plan under pressure
• Delegate tasks
• Lead small groups
• Solve tactical problems

 

This is where instructors evaluated who had natural command presence.

Weapons Training

Cadets learned:

• M1 or M14 rifle marksmanship (depending on year)
• Grenade familiarization
• Basic field tactics

 

Field Exercises

Multi-day exercises in the woods:

• Patrols
• Ambush and defense drills
• Land navigation
• Night operations

 

Cadets slept in the field, ate C‑rations, and learned to operate as platoons

Physical Training

Daily PT included:

• Long runs
• Obstacle courses
• Forced marches
• Calisthenics in the Georgia heat

 

Evaluations

Every cadet was graded on:

• Leadership
• Initiative
• Military bearing
• Physical fitness
• Tactical understanding

 

These evaluations determined whether a cadet would be commissioned — and often influenced branch assignments

ROTC Major — What It Meant for Pete Rowe

In Pete’s time, ROTC cadets selected a major just like any other college student, but their academic field often influenced:

• Their leadership evaluations
• Their branch assignment after commissioning
• Their technical specialty in the Army
• Their career trajectory

 

Common ROTC Majors That Led to the Signal Corps

Because Pete later served in the 68th Signal Battalion, his ROTC major was likely in one of these fields:

• Engineering (Electrical, Mechanical, Civil)

Signal Corps officers were often drawn from engineering majors because they had:

• Strong technical aptitude
• Problem‑solving skills
• Comfort with electronics and communications systems

 

Mathematics or Physics

These majors aligned with:

• Radio theory
• Communications technology
• Early computing and signal equipment

 

 Communications or Technical Sciences

Some universities offered majors directly tied to:

• Radio operations
• Telecommunications
• Electronics

 

General Science or Industrial Arts

These majors also fed into technical branches like the Signal Corps.

 

How His ROTC Major Shaped His Career

Whatever Pete’s exact major was, it clearly prepared him for:

 Signal Corps service in Korea

 His academic background would have made him a natural fit for:

• Radio operations
• Wire installation
• Switchboard systems
• Field communications under combat conditions

 

Transition into Aviation

Signal Corps officers were often selected for aviation because they already understood:

• Electronics
• Radios
• Navigation equipment
• Technical troubleshooting

 

This made the jump to helicopter pilot in Vietnam a logical progression.

 

Rising to Lt. Colonel

ROTC majors with strong academic and technical foundations were often:

• Promoted faster
• Selected for command
• Trusted with complex missions

 

Pete’s dual‑war service and eventual rank reflect that trajectory

 

The U.S. Army Command & General Staff College (CGSC) at Fort Leavenworth is the Army’s premier mid‑career leadership school, established in 1881, designed to prepare officers for high‑level command and staff positions. It provides advanced education in operations, planning, leadership, and joint/multinational warfare.

What the Command & General Staff College Is

• Location: Fort Leavenworth, Kansas
• Founded: 1881 by General William Tecumseh Sherman
• Purpose: Educate and develop field‑grade officers (usually Majors) for complex operational and strategic roles
• Students: U.S. Army officers, international officers, and interagency partners
• Length: About 10 months in residence

 

CGSC is the Army’s intellectual center for operational art and leadership

Core areas of study

• Operational planning
• Joint and multinational operations
• Logistics and sustainment
• Intelligence integration
• Leadership and ethics
• Staff processes and decision‑making
• Large‑scale combat operations

 

Schools within CGSC – The college includes:

• Command and General Staff School (CGSS)
• School of Advanced Military Studies (SAMS)
• School for Command Preparation
• Sergeants Major Academy

 

Why CGSC Matters for Pete Rowe

Attending CGSC was a major milestone in Pete’s career. It meant:

 He was selected for senior leadership potential.Only strong performers are chosen to attend in residence.

 It prepared him for higher command and staff roles

This education is what allows officers to become:

• Battalion executive officers
• Battalion commanders
• Brigade staff officers
• Division‑level planners

 

It marked his transition from tactical to operational leadership

After Korea and Vietnam, CGSC would have shaped Pete into a senior officer capable of managing complex organizations.

It placed him in the same lineage as generations of Army leaders

 

CGSC alumni include:

• Eisenhower
• Patton
• Bradley
• Colin Powell

 

Pete joined that tradition.

 

Academic Rigor

CGSC is academically demanding. Officers complete:

• Staff planning exercises
• War‑gaming
• Operational orders
• Leadership assessments
• Research and writing assignments

 

Graduates may earn a Master of Military Art and Science (MMAS) or Master of Operational Studies (MOS).

“The Korean War: Baptism by Fire” is the perfect phrase for what Pete Rowe — and every American soldier who served in Korea — endured. It wasn’t just a war. It was an initiation into some of the harshest conditions, most chaotic combat, and most unforgiving terrain the U.S. Army had faced since World War II.

In the context of Pete’s service with the 68th Signal Battalion, 1st Cavalry Division.

 

The Draft Notice Arrived by Mail

The famous letter began with:

“Greetings…”

It ordered him to report to the local induction station.

Unlike wartime drafts, the 1959 draft was:

• More selective
• More focused on technical aptitude
• More likely to route smart, capable men into specialized branches

 

This is exactly why Pete was identified for the Signal Corps.

 

Induction Center Processing

Pete would have reported to a regional induction center for:

• Physical exam
• Hearing and vision tests
• Bloodwork
• Psychological screening
• Aptitude tests (including technical and mechanical ability)

 

Because he had strong academic and technical skills, he would have scored high on the Army Classification Battery — which is why he was selected for a technical branch.

After passing, he was sworn into the U.S. Army the same day.

 

Basic Training

In 1959, basic training was:

• 8 weeks
• Strict, disciplined, and physically demanding
• Focused on Cold War readiness

 

Training included:

• Rifle marksmanship
• Drill and ceremony
• Fieldcraft
• First aid
• Physical conditioning
• Introduction to Army communications equipment

 

This was Pete’s first exposure to the Army’s technical side

 

Assignment to the Signal Corps

Because of his test scores and ROTC background, Pete was selected for the Signal Corps, the Army’s branch responsible for:

• Radios
• Wire communications
• Switchboards
• Electronic systems
• Early aviation communications

 

This was a prestigious technical assignment.

 

The Aviation Surprise: Helicopter School

Here’s where Pete’s story becomes exceptional.

When he received orders for Korea, he was told he would also attend helicopter school en route — a rare opportunity in 1959.

His path:

• Fort Monmouth, New Jersey

Training in communications, electronics, and early avionics

• Camp Wolters, Texas

10‑week helicopter training course

(the Army’s primary helicopter school before Fort Rucker)

Because he had already learned helicopter systems at Fort Monmouth, he entered flight school with unusual proficiency.

This is why he excelled.

 

What Microwave “Sights” Signal Corp Actually Meant- Pete’s Tour Time in Germany Into Korea.

In the 1950s–1970s, the U.S. Army used microwave line‑of‑sight (MLoS) systems to move enormous amounts of information across long distances. These systems required elevated relay points — called microwave sites or microwave sights — where antennas could “see” each other across terrain.

These sites transmitted:

• Voice communications
• Teletype and data
• Radar information
• Command and control traffic

 

They were essential for linking:

• DMZ outposts
• Division headquarters
• Airfields
• Artillery units
• NATO bases in Europe
• Pentagon‑level networks

 

Modern military microwave systems still use the same principle: high‑frequency, line‑of‑sight radio beams for secure, high‑capacity communication.

 

Why They Were Critical in Pete’s Era

Microwave sites were the nervous system of the Army’s communication network. They provided:

• High‑capacity backhaul for voice and data
• Anti‑jam, secure channels
• Reliable battlefield connectivity
• Rapid deployment capability for tactical units

 

Modern systems still emphasize ruggedness, anti‑jam features, and secure broadband connectivity — the same principles used in Pete’s time.

 

Deployment to Korea (1959–1960)

After training, Pete deployed to Korea as a Signal Corps aviator, flying missions that supported:

• Radio‑relay sites
• Communications teams
• Command and staff transport
• Courier and logistics flights
• DMZ support operations

 

This was demanding, technical flying in harsh weather and mountainous terrain

 

Why Pete’s 1959 Draft Matters

It wasn’t just the start of his service — it was the start of his transformation.

Being drafted in 1959:

• Put him on a technical path
• Led him into aviation
• Sent him to Korea
• Prepared him for Vietnam
• Set the foundation for his rise to Lt. Colonel
• Marked the beginning of a dual‑war, dual‑era legacy

 

Company D, 229th Assault Helicopter Battalion, 1st Cavalry Division was not just another aviation company — it was one of the most respected, hardest‑fighting, and most technically demanding gunship units of the entire Vietnam War. And Pete reached the rank of Lieutenant Colonel, placing him among the senior leaders shaped by two wars, two eras, and two very different kinds of Army

 

Company D, 229th AHB — “Smiling Tigers”

Company D was the gunship company of the 229th.

Where A, B, and C Companies flew troop‑carrying Hueys, D Company flew the gunships — UH‑1C and later UH‑1M aircraft armed with:

• 2.75‑inch rockets
• M134 miniguns
• M60 door guns
• Occasionally grenade launchers or experimental weapons

 

These aircraft were the shield for every air assault the 1st Cavalry conducted.

 

Their missions included:

• Escorting slicks into hot LZs
• Suppressing enemy fire during insertions and extractions
• Responding to “troops in contact” emergencies
• Night hunter‑killer missions
• Covering downed aircraft
• Supporting LRRP and Special Forces teams
• Providing close air support in the most dangerous terrain

 

This was some of the most hazardous flying of the war.

 

Company D was different.

The gunship company, equipped with twelve heavily armed UH‑1C/M gunships. The lift ships carried larger engines and could haul 12–15 troops. Our gunships were configured strictly for firepower:

• 14 rockets
• 7,200 rounds of 7.62mm ammunition
• Four hydraulically driven miniguns
• Two crewmen in the back operating machine guns

 

We were the fire support — the shield for every air assault.

 

The 229th AHB — One of the Most Famous Aviation Battalions in History

The 229th was part of the 1st Cavalry Division (Airmobile) — the Army’s first fully helicopter‑based division.

It fought in:

• Ia Drang
• Bong Son
• An Khe
• Bình Định Province
• Operation Pershing
• Tet Offensive support operations

 

By the time Pete served (1967–1968), the 229th was at its operational peak — flying hundreds of missions a week, often under fire.

 

He lived the field life — not the base life

His Vietnam experience was defined by:

• LZ English
• The DMZ
• Creek banks
• Foxholes
• Improvised showers
• Flooded tents
• 4:00 a.m. launches
• Artillery all night
• Mortar attacks
• Constant danger

 

This is the life of a forward‑deployed gunship pilot, not a rear‑area officer at An Khê.

The Atmosphere – What It Was Like at An Khê — “The Golf Course”

An Khê felt like:

• A city of helicopters
• A forward staging area for major operations
• A place where missions launched constantly
• A base that was always alert for attack
• A valley filled with dust, noise, and tension

 

It was not a quiet rear area — it was the beating heart of the 1st Cavalry’s air war.

 

The Helicopter City

• At its peak, An Khê housed over 400 helicopters — Hueys, Chinooks, gunships, and support aircraft.
• Rows and rows of aircraft stretched across the cleared valley floor.

 

 The sound never stopped:

• Engines spooling up
• Rotor blades chopping the air
• Maintenance crews working day and night
• Dust clouds rolled across the base every time a flight of Hueys lifted off

 

 

 The Landscape

• Located in Gia Lai Province, along Highway QL‑19 between Quy Nhơn and Pleiku.
• Set in a natural valley beneath Hon Cong Mountain.
• The 1st Cavalry cleared the jungle by hand, cutting vegetation to ground level so helicopter rotor wash wouldn’t create a dust storm — this is how it earned the nickname “The Golf Course.”
• The terrain was a mix of red dirt, grass, and bare earth, with mountains rising sharply around the perimeter.

 

An Khê was the 1st Cavalry Division’s massive base camp in the Central Highlands — a cleared, bowl‑shaped valley surrounded by mountains, packed with helicopters, dust, noise, and constant danger. It was the largest helicopter base in the world when built in 1965.

 

WHAT “ASH & TRASH” REALLY WAS

It was the nickname soldiers gave to Headquarters Company — the place where all the “unseen” work happened:

• Mess halls
• Supply
• Showers
• Latrines
• Paperwork
• Awards and citations
• Logistics
• Daily operations
• Morale and discipline

 

It wasn’t glamorous.

It wasn’t prestigious.

But without it, the division would collapse.

And Pete walked into it and immediately made it better.

 

THE WORK WAS CONSTANT, UNRELENTING, AND UNAPPRECIATED

Headquarters Company handled everything nobody else wanted to do:

Drafting citations for medals

Every award — Bronze Stars, Air Medals, Purple Hearts — had to be written, justified, typed, and processed.

Responsibilities:

Fixing the mess halls

The cooking grates were filthy.

The food quality was poor.

Morale was low.

Pete:

• Boiled the grates clean
• Secured two large metal slabs from engineers
• Built a proper cooking surface
• Eliminated powdered eggs
• Improved the entire operation

 

This is leadership.

Building showers from scratch

There were no real facilities.

So Pete found two huge metal containers, drilled holes in them, and created makeshift showers for the men.

That’s the kind of thing soldiers never forget.

Cleaning up after a disengaged officer

The West Point officer he replaced didn’t take care of the troops.

Pete did — immediately.

He reorganized the company with the same efficiency he used in the DMZ.

 

“Ash & Trash” meant:

• No glory
• No medals
• No dramatic missions
• No gunship adrenaline
• Just work
• Endless work
• Work that kept the entire battalion functioning

 

And Pete excelled at it.

 

Most people only talk about combat.

But the Army knows:

The men who can run a headquarters company are the ones who become Lt. Colonels.

This assignment showed:

• His discipline
• His intelligence
• His organizational skill
• His care for his men
• His ability to fix broken systems
• His leadership beyond the cockpit

 

This is the kind of officer the Army promotes.

 

Air Assault Operations — Company D, 229th AHB

Vietnam, 1966–1967

Operations took Co. D deep into the jungle, often into clearings blasted open by large explosive charges. Much of the terrain was triple canopy, with layers of vegetation so dense that sunlight barely reached the ground.

Every morning, the infantry — the “ground‑pounders” — would identify a village or area where they expected heavy Viet Cong activity. That meant a major troop insertion was coming. We would assemble a fleet of lift ships, each loaded with about twelve soldiers, and prepare for the assault.

Two gunships — sometimes more — would escort the formation. They flew ahead and alongside the slicks, clearing the route and suppressing enemy fire.

 

Finding the Landing Zone (LZ)

The method for locating the LZ was simple and unmistakable:

Artillery fired a white phosphorus (WP) round into the target area.

The burst created a bright white cloud visible from miles away.

That was their marker — the signal for every aircraft to converge.

As they approached, the sky above the LZ came alive.

 

The Suppression Plan

Before the slicks touched down, the area was hit from multiple angles:

Airborne suppression

Aircraft above them fired 42 tubes of rockets and artillery into suspected enemy positions.

Loaches and scouts

Light observation helicopters skimmed the treetops, firing into the canopy to disrupt ambushes.

Gunships

They raked the tree lines, the huts, the trails — anywhere the enemy might be hiding.

This was done seven days a week, always at first light, always with the same intensity.

The enemy often followed our troops back into the area, turning the same LZ into a firefight minutes later

 

Daisy‑Chaining the Insertions

Once the first wave of troops was on the ground, they often had to return immediately for more.

We would:

• Drop troops
• Pull away
• Circle back
• Load another group
• Return to the same LZ
• Repeat the cycle

 

This was called “daisy‑chaining.”

It was exhausting, dangerous, and relentless.

And the enemy adapted quickly.

 

The Enemy Followed Our Troops

The Viet Cong rarely stayed gone.

Once their lift ships departed, they often moved back into the area, shadowing our infantry, probing for weaknesses, and setting up ambushes.

This meant:

• The infantry was never safe
• They were often called back
• The same LZ could become a firefight within minutes

 

Every mission carried the same truth:

The enemy was watching, waiting, and learning.

 

 Into the Jungle — Daily Combat Operations

Missions took them into jungle clearings — many of them blasted open by large explosive charges. Much of the terrain was triple canopy, so dense that even helicopters struggled to find openings.

Every morning, the infantry identified a village or area where they expected heavy Viet Cong activity. That meant a major insertion. We assembled a fleet of lift ships, each carrying twelve soldiers, and launched with two gunships escorting the formation.

 

Finding the LZ

Artillery fired a white phosphorus (WP) round into the target area. The burst created a bright white cloud — our signal.

 

What It Means That Pete Was a Lt. Colonel

Reaching the rank of Lieutenant Colonel in the U.S. Army is a profound achievement. It means: •He was selected for senior leadership

• Only a small percentage of officers ever reach this rank.
• He mastered both tactical and operational command
• Korea gave him technical and field experience.
• Vietnam gave him combat aviation experience.
• CGSC gave him operational and strategic education.
• He was trusted with lives, missions, and major responsibilities
• Lt. Colonels command battalions, lead major staff sections, and shape the direction of entire units.

 

He belonged to the Army’s professional elite

His career path — drafted in 1959, Signal Corps, helicopter school, Korea, Vietnam, CGSC, senior leadership — is the path of a man the Army recognized as exceptional.

 

Why This Combination Is So Rare

Very few officers in U.S. Army history can claim all of the following:

• Drafted in the Cold War
• Served in Korea
• Became a Signal Corps aviator
• Transitioned into combat aviation
• Flew gunships for the 1st Cavalry Division
• Served in Company D, 229th AHB
• Completed Command & General Staff College
• Rose to the rank of Lt. Colonel

 

This is a dual‑war, dual‑era, dual‑specialty legacy — technical, tactical, and operational excellence across decades.

 

Typical missions Pete flew:

• Escorting troop carriers (“slicks”) into hot landing zones
• Suppressing enemy fire during insertions and extractions
• Responding to emergency “troops in contact” calls
• Night hunter‑killer missions
• Covering downed aircraft
• Supporting LRRP and Special Forces teams
• Close air support in mountainous terrain

 

This was some of the most dangerous flying in the war.

 

Major Operations Pete Supported (1967–1968)

• Operation Pershing (Feb 1967 – Jan 1968)

The largest and longest operation the 1st Cavalry conducted. The 229th flew constant combat assaults, often multiple missions per day.

• Bong Son & LZ English Battles

Daily engagements supporting infantry sweeps, ambushes, and clearing operations.

 

Tet Offensive (Jan–Feb 1968)

Although the 1st Cavalry’s heaviest Tet fighting was in other regions, the 229th still flew:

• Reinforcement missions
• Emergency extractions
• Fire support
• Rapid troop movements

 

The tempo was relentless.

 

What Flying Was Like for Pete (1967–1968)

This was not routine aviation — it was combat flying at its most intense.

He faced:

• Heavy machine‑gun fire (12.7mm)
• AK‑47 fire from tree lines
• RPGs aimed at helicopters
• Sudden weather changes
• Mountain winds and tight valleys
• Landing zones under fire
• Long hours — often 6–12 missions per day

 

Gunship pilots were first in and last out of nearly every operation

 

The Pentagon isn’t a battlefield or a movie set — it’s the largest, busiest office building in the world, where strategy, policy, and national defense decisions are made every day. It feels part–military headquarters, part–government nerve center, and part–giant office complex.

 

What It’s Really Like Inside the Pentagon

 A Massive, Constantly Moving Machine

• 30,000 people work inside the Pentagon on any given day.
• It holds 6.5 million square feet of office space — the largest office building in the world.
• There are 17.5 miles of corridors, and you can walk for 20 minutes and still not reach the other side.

 

Most people imagine dark war rooms — but the reality is that most of the Pentagon is offices, meetings, policy work, and analysis

 

The Culture — Military Precision Meets Bureaucracy

People who work there describe it as:

• A place where policy is dissected in excruciating detail
• A maze of cipher‑locked doors, meeting rooms, and briefing spaces
• A “must‑do” assignment for officers seeking advancement
• Fast‑paced, intense, and highly political
• Very different from life at a field unit like Fort Bragg or a combat zone

 

It’s where careers are shaped — and where the Army evaluates who is ready for senior leadership.

 

 Daily Life Inside

• You walk everywhere — 17.5 miles of corridors means you learn shortcuts fast.
• There’s a central courtyard where no one salutes (“no cover, no salute” zone).
• There are shops, a food court, and even fast‑food chains — because the building is so large you can’t leave for lunch.
• The tempo is intense: briefings, reports, manpower studies, and inter‑service coordination.

 

For many officers, it’s the first time they see how the entire Department of Defense fits together.

 

 Security & Atmosphere

• Multiple checkpoints
• Constant ID checks
• Restricted areas everywhere
• A mix of uniforms and civilian attire
• A sense of history — and responsibility — in every hallway

 

It feels like working inside the brain of the U.S. military.

 

 A Place of History

• The Pentagon is part office, part museum.
• There are memorials, historical displays, and reminders of 9/11 throughout the building.
• You feel the weight of decisions made there — decisions that affect the entire world

 

 

Legacy

Lt. Colonel Martin Allen “Pete” Rowe lived a life shaped by service, lifted by music, and anchored by the love of his family. From his earliest days in ROTC, where he first discovered the discipline, confidence, and integrity that would guide him, Pete grew into a leader defined by quiet strength and unwavering responsibility. ROTC didn’t simply prepare him for the Army — it formed the foundation of the man he became.

His military journey began in Korea, where harsh winters, rugged terrain, and the tension of the DMZ tested his endurance and resolve. From there, he served in Germany, a season of growth that refined his leadership and deepened his technical expertise within the Signal Corps. These early years shaped him into the officer who would later face the fire of Vietnam with courage and clarity.

In Vietnam, as a gunship pilot with the 229th Assault Helicopter Battalion, Pete flew into danger day after day. He slept beside his aircraft, dug foxholes in the mud, and carried the lives of others in his hands. He was wounded in action, earning the Purple Heart, and returned to serve again. His bravery, resilience, and devotion to his mission became hallmarks of his character.

He later returned to Germany to command a Signal Corps battalion — one of the Army’s most demanding leadership roles — and ultimately served at the Pentagon, where he was selected for full Lt. Colonel and awarded the Legion of Merit for his significant contributions to military manpower studies. He retired at the height of his career, having given the very best of himself to his country.

 Yet the uniform tells only part of his story.

Pete was a musician at heart. He earned a master’s degree in music, led brass ensembles, and formed his own band, Ol’e Colligants, a spirited group built on camaraderie, joy, and the simple power of shared sound. Music was woven through every chapter of his life — a source of strength, expression, and connection. It steadied him in hardship and lifted him in peace.

At the center of everything was Barbara, his beloved wife and lifelong partner. She was his anchor, his confidante, his home. Her love steadied him through every deployment, every challenge, every triumph. Pete often said that whatever success he achieved — every promotion, every accomplishment, every milestone — he owed so much of it to her. She was the quiet strength behind his strength, the steady heart behind his courage, the partner who made every burden lighter and every joy deeper.

Pete adored his family. Nothing mattered more to him than keeping them close — together in spirit, together in love, together in the life he worked so hard to build. He believed that family was the true measure of a man, and he lived every day with that conviction. To his children, he was a steady guide; to his grandchildren, a gentle and joyful presence; to his great‑grandchildren, the beginning of a story they will grow into.

His legacy is not only in the medals he earned or the missions he flew, but in the lives he touched, the music he made, the family he built, and the example he set. He showed what it means to serve with honor, to lead with compassion, to love with devotion, and to live a life that truly matters.

The man behind the rank Pete was a man of quiet strength. He didn’t boast. Nor did he seek attention. He simply did what needed to be done — for his country, for his soldiers, and for his family. He believed in responsibility, service, humility, music, and love that endures.

And at the end of the day — after the missions, the music, the years, and the miles — there was a simple ritual that said everything about the life he cherished.

He and Barbara would sit together, side by side, sharing the quiet comfort of a martini he made just the way they liked it.

It was their moment, their peace, their home.

And because of him, the world — and his family — are better.