Franklin D. Miller

Command Sergeant Major Franklin Douglas "Doug" Miller (January 27, 1945–June 30, 2000) was an American and United States Army Special Forces staff sergeant during the Vietnam War who was awarded the United States military's highest decoration—the Medal of Honor—for his actions above and beyond the call of duty on January 5, 1970. He was also awarded a Silver Star, two Bronze Stars, and six Purple Hearts during his six years service in Southeast Asia.

Co-written with Elwood J.C. Kureth. Novato: Presidio Press, hardcover.

• I remember Kelly most for the times we spent playing cards. You name the card game, and we played it. We were both avid card players, and even though our card games were strictly for fun, we were both highly competitive and hated to lose. The winner always took great delight in the loser's whining, excuses, and accusations of cheating. Good-natured miniscuffles broke out on occasion.
  My most vivid memories were of the times we played cards by moonlight. The moon appeared so much larger by the equator, and the absence of air pollution out in the bush allowed the moonlight to bathe us unfiltered. There we sat, playing game after game inside the platoon's perimeter when we weren't pulling guard or on patrol. At night we played without the usual theatrics, whispering only to name the game or utter a put-down. The stillness of the jungle and the glossy blackness of the night sky combined with the moon's frozen brilliance to create an eerie, haunting setting. The worn, creased cards that Kelly always carried were never idle for long under those conditions.
  Now they'd be idle forever.
  Death was now close to home.
  • p. 17

• Mail is such a critical thing to soldiers in the field because of their Spartan way of living. Mail can make or break any situation. When you get a letter, man, your morale shoots sky-high. Especially when it smells just like your girlfriend. That perfume smell, you know? There you are, sitting in the middle of nowhere, and the next thing you know someone comes along, says, "Here you go, man," and flips you a leter. A letter that he's probably sniffed most of he perfume out of before it gets to you.
  • p. 22

• They don't have mail call out in the field like you'd think. If we all gathered round he sarge to receive your mail we'd probably be attacked. It would be an ideal time to do so, with all of us clustered together in one big, easy target. So one or more guys distributed the goodies.
  Just as receiving mail will boost your spirits, absence of mail will, over a long period of time, dramatically lower your morale. This is particularly true if you're expecting something. You start getting jealous of guys who get mail, especially if they are receiving it on a constant basis. I've seen two guys exchange heated words because one was extremely happy about hearing from his girl, while the other hadn't heard from home in weeks. Enough said.
  • p. 23

• Six fellow soldiers also received the Medal of Honor with me on that warm, clear day in June, 1971. However, only one man stood beside me. Tragically, the other five were awarded posthumously. Such sorrow reflects the magnitude of the actions of those individuals who are considered for the CMH. A female lieutenant colonel once asked me if I knew why they gave me the medal. She asked the question in such a way that I took it as meaning she knew the reason- did I? Her question pissed me off. I thought, what the hell do you know? How could you, who have never seen combat, possibly know? I was preparing to give it to her with both barrels at the conclusion of her comment.
  However, she said something profound that hit the nail right square on the head. She said, "They gave you the medal because they realize that something has happened to you that they can't understand."
  You were absolutely right, ma'am. My apologies.
  • p. 191

• It seemed like the entire world knew I'd come out of Womack's Nut Ward, and as a result I was accused of everything from shoplifting to armed robbery to murder. Nobody took my word for anything. Any derogatory stories that could be old about me were given maximum dissemination. When you have the Medal of Honor, all actions- good, bad, true, or false- are magnified, and an undue amount of significance is attached to each. My every move- real or imagined- became front-page news. Maybe I'm exaggerating, but not much.
  • p. 198

• Once, a student asked me what the secret was to being a good combat leader, a man who commands the loyalty and respect of his subordinates. That was a question I'd been formulating the answer to for many years, almost from Day One when I set foot on Vietnamese soil. My answer to him and the class was a simple one which I would repeat many times throughout the years.
  "If you want a soldier's respect and loyalty, you must demonstrate two things. First, you must show that you know more than the soldier you are leading. Your subordinate must be aware that you have knowledge he does not possess, and that you are trying to teach him.
  "The second thing you must demonstrate is a genuine concern for his safety and well-being. The concern must be real, because a young soldier can spot a faker a mile away. If your concern for him is genuine- and he knows it- then you can rest assured that he will follow you into the jaws of death."
  • p. 201

• For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity in action at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty. S/Sgt. Miller, 5th Special Forces Group, distinguished himself while serving as team leader of an American-Vietnamese long-range reconnaissance patrol operating deep within enemy-controlled territory. Leaving the helicopter insertion point, the patrol moved forward on its mission. Suddenly, one of the team members tripped a hostile booby trap which wounded four soldiers. S/Sgt. Miller, knowing that the explosion would alert the enemy, quickly administered first aid to the wounded and directed the team into positions across a small stream bed at the base of a steep hill. Within a few minutes, S/Sgt. Miller saw the lead element of what he estimated to be a platoon-size enemy force moving toward his location. Concerned for the safety of his men, he directed the small team to move up the hill to a more secure position. He remained alone, separated from the patrol, to meet the attack. S/Sgt. Miller singlehandedly repulsed two determined attacks by the numerically superior enemy force and caused them to withdraw in disorder. He rejoined his team, established contact with a forward air controller, and arranged the evacuation of his patrol. However, the only suitable extraction location in the heavy jungle was a bomb crater some 150 meters from the team location. S/Sgt. Miller reconnoitered the route to the crater and led his men through the enemy-controlled jungle to the extraction site. As the evacuation helicopter hovered over the crater to pick up the patrol, the enemy launched a savage automatic-weapons and rocket-propelled-grenade attack against the beleaguered team, driving off the rescue helicopter. S/Sgt. Miller led the team in a valiant defense which drove back the enemy in its attempt to overrun the small patrol. Although seriously wounded and with every man in his patrol a casualty, S/Sgt. Miller moved forward to again singlehandedly meet the hostile attackers. From his forward exposed position, S/Sgt. Miller gallantly repelled two attacks by the enemy before a friendly relief force reached the patrol location. S/Sgt. Miller's gallantry, intrepidity in action, and selfless devotion to the welfare of his comrades are in keeping with the highest traditions of the military service and reflect great credit on him, his unit, and the U.S. Army.
  • Citation for the Medal of Honor awarded to Miller, presented on 15 June 1971 by President Richard Nixon at the White House, Washington, D.C.[1]