As I researched my @wired cover story on Robert Mueller’s time in combat in Vietnam, I also traced the stories of the three Marines who died from his unit on December 11, 1968, at the battle of Mutter’s Ridge, where Mueller received the Bronze Star. wired.com/story/robert-m…
On this Memorial Day, I want to take a moment to introduce you to each of them and their stories. They were, each in their own way, representative of the type of Americans who fought and died in Vietnam.
First: 19-year-old Corporal John C. Liverman. 
Liverman had arrived in Vietnam in January 1968—just days after his next-door neighbor in Silver Spring, Maryland, had been killed at Khe Sahn—and had seen heavy combat much of the year.
By December, Liverman had already been wounded twice, hit by shrapnel in March and again in April. After recovering each time, he agitated to return to combat. At Mutter’s Ridge, he was helping to ferry ammunition to his fellow Marines when he was shot in the head.
(Second Lieutenant Robert Mueller received a Bronze Star for, in part, rescuing the mortally wounded Liverman and bringing him back to American lines.)
Today, Liverman is buried not far from the Iwo Jima Memorial, on a slope at Arlington National Cemetery. You can read more about Liverman here: arlingtoncemetery.net/jcliverman.htm
Second: Lance Corporal Robert W. Cromwell, who had celebrated his 20th birthday that fall in Vietnam. He was known as “Hollywood,” after his hometown in Broward County, Florida.
In December, he had just returned to Hotel Company from “R&R” in Hawaii. There, he’d met his wife and parents to be introduced for the first time to his new-born daughter. “He was so happy to have a child and wanted to get home [for good],” one of his fellow Marines told me.
Cromwell was shot early in the battle. His death hit the unit hard, particularly fellow Marine David Harris—in part because Harris felt that the Marine on the stretcher that day should have been him.
The night before the two men had traded weapons—Harris took Cromwell’s M-14 rifle and Cromwell took Harris’s M-79 grenade launcher. “The next day when we hit the crap, they called for him, and he had to go forward,” Harris told me. “I’ve only told two people this story.”
Third, Corporal Agustin “Chicky” Rosario, a 22-year-old father and husband from New York City.
Rosario had grown up in Spanish Harlem and enlisted in the Marines as a teen in the hopes that the money he earned would help his family move out to the Bronx. Before he left for Vietnam, he’d gotten married and had a young child too.
In Vietnam, Rosario had run into a childhood friend in the midst of a rice paddy. The night before they shipped out for the battle of Mutter’s Ridge, they took photos together.
Here's one of those photos of Rosario, who had grown a distinctive thick mustache since arriving in Vietnam:
In the battle, at Mutter's Ride, Rosario was shot in the ankle, and then, while he tried to run back to safety, was shot again. He died waiting for a medevac helicopter. “He had two weeks left in a four-year enlistment,” his fellow Marine told me.
All three of the Marines that day died way too young, leaving behind families who miss them forever. We will never know the men they could have been. Let's always remember their names and sacrifice and do everything we can to avoid having other Americans die in battle.
