PFC Robert Frank Packard – USMC

PFC Robert Frank Packard – USMC

3rd Marine Division, 2nd Battalion, 3rd Marines, G Company
Operation Shasta – Quảng Nam Province, South Vietnam

November 7, 1966A Young Man From Ridgewood

Robert Frank Packard was born on April 2, 1946, in Ridgewood, New York—a working-class neighborhood that looked much the same in the 1940s as it had before the war: brick row houses, corner delis, and the hum of a city that never quite stopped moving. America was still adjusting to its newfound global role after the Second World War. The Packard family, like so many others, had lived through the Depression, war bonds, and ration books, and now faced the challenge of raising a son in a world teetering between peace and another uncertain future.

Robert—“Bobby” to those who knew him—grew up in a generation that straddled the line between postwar optimism and the Cold War’s shadow. He played stickball in the streets, listened to early rock-and-roll, and came of age during a time when patriotism was expected but service was not always a choice. By 1966, the war in Vietnam had escalated beyond advisors and small skirmishes. The draft was filling the ranks, and like so many young men of his time, Robert answered when his number was called.

The Making of a Marine

After being drafted, Packard enlisted into the United States Marine Corps—a branch known for its uncompromising standards and grueling discipline. He would have begun his journey at one of the Corps’ two training depots, either Parris Island or San Diego, where civilian life was stripped away and rebuilt into something lean, tough, and mission-focused.

Marine boot camp was—and remains—a crucible of transformation. Recruits learned to march, shoot, and survive, but more importantly, they learned to depend on one another. It was here that Packard was shaped into a rifleman—the very core of what it means to be a Marine. The title is not given lightly, and by the time he earned his Eagle, Globe, and Anchor, he had become part of a brotherhood that stretches from Belleau Wood to Iwo Jima, from Inchon to the jungles of Southeast Asia.

Vietnam: The 3rd Marine Division

By mid-1966, PFC Packard was assigned to Golf Company, 2nd Battalion, 3rd Marines (2/3), part of the 3rd Marine Division. Headquartered in Okinawa, the 3rd Marine Division had already spent more than a year in Vietnam conducting combat operations along the northern I Corps region—one of the most volatile areas in the country.

The division’s mission was to secure territory, disrupt Viet Cong infiltration routes, and support South Vietnamese forces in the Quảng Nam and Quảng Trị provinces. It was rugged, punishing terrain—dense jungle, rice paddies, and steep ridgelines that concealed tunnels and ambushes. Marines often fought in conditions that wore down even the strongest: heat, monsoon rains, insects, and an enemy who knew every inch of ground.

Operation Shasta: November 1966

In the fall of 1966, the 2nd Battalion, 3rd Marines launched Operation Shasta, a search-and-destroy mission in the Quảng Nam Province, just southwest of Da Nang. The objective was to locate and neutralize Viet Cong units operating in the area and to secure vital supply routes feeding into the coastal plains.

The Marines pushed into hostile territory near the Tuy Loan Bridge—an area of constant tension. The enemy here was elusive, skilled at hit-and-run tactics and the strategic placement of booby traps, known as “mines” or “IEDs” in today’s terminology. These crude but deadly devices were often made from discarded American ordnance: mortar rounds, grenades, or artillery shells rigged to explode with a single step.

For men like Packard, every patrol was a gamble. The enemy might strike from the treeline or from beneath the very ground they walked on. It was a test of endurance, nerve, and brotherhood—a daily struggle to stay alive in a war where the line between safety and tragedy could be as thin as a tripwire.

November 7, 1966: The Final Patrol

On November 7, 1966, during Operation Shasta, Private First Class Robert Frank Packard’s unit was conducting operations approximately five kilometers west-southwest of the Tuy Loan Bridge. In this dense, unforgiving landscape, an enemy explosive device—likely a command-detonated mine or booby trap—detonated near his position.

The blast was instantaneous, violent, and final. Packard was killed in action, a rifleman doing his duty in a place far from home, halfway around the world from the quiet streets of Ridgewood where he’d grown up. He was only twenty years old.

The Brotherhood Left Behind

In the Marine Corps, death is not merely recorded—it is remembered. Each loss leaves a hole in the tight-knit fabric of a platoon. Those who survived Operation Shasta would carry the memory of that day with them for the rest of their lives: the smell of the jungle, the concussion of the blast, the silence that follows.

The 2/3 Marines would continue to fight throughout Vietnam, taking part in some of the war’s most grueling battles, from Khe Sanh to Dong Ha. But for every man lost, a story remained unfinished—a name that would later be etched into the black granite of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.

A Name on the Wall

When visitors walk along the Wall in Washington, D.C., the names seem endless—over 58,000 souls engraved in polished stone. For many, it is overwhelming. But each name represents an individual story: a son, a brother, a friend, a Marine.

PFC Robert Frank Packard’s name rests there, carved among those who gave everything. Visitors can find him by tracing the letters with their fingertips, by pausing to reflect on the life behind the inscription. For some, it is a healing ritual. For others, it is an introduction—a meeting across time.

Packard’s name may be one among thousands, but it carries the same sacred weight as all the others. He was one of the young men who stood in uniform, shouldered a rifle, and went where his country sent him. He never saw his twenty-first birthday, yet his service is eternal.

The Legacy of the 2nd Battalion, 3rd Marines

Golf Company, 2/3 Marines—known as “G-Company”—served across Vietnam with distinction. They participated in dozens of major operations, often under brutal conditions. The battalion earned a reputation for tenacity and professionalism, whether fighting in the steaming jungles of Quảng Nam or the mountains near Khe Sanh.

The 2nd Battalion’s motto, “Fortes Fortuna Juvat” (“Fortune Favors the Brave”), echoed the spirit of men like Robert Packard. They did not seek glory; they sought to survive and protect their brothers. Their courage was measured not in medals but in moments—holding the line under fire, carrying a wounded Marine to safety, or simply pushing forward when exhaustion and fear threatened to take over.

Remembering Robert Packard

Today, nearly six decades after his death, PFC Packard’s sacrifice endures through remembrance. His name appears in casualty rolls and archives, but beyond those records lies something deeper—a story of youth, duty, and devotion to a cause greater than self.

He represents an entire generation of Americans who were thrust into a complex and divisive war, yet did their jobs with quiet dignity. They followed orders, watched out for one another, and bore the physical and emotional burdens that came with the uniform.

At Ghosts of the Battlefield, stories like Robert Packard’s are more than historical footnotes—they are the beating heart of our mission. Each artifact, letter, and photograph we preserve carries echoes of men like him. When visitors walk through our exhibits, they see more than weapons and uniforms; they see the faces of young Americans who gave everything they had in service to ideals of freedom and duty.

Operation Shasta in Context

Operation Shasta itself is a lesser-known engagement compared to the major battles that dominate Vietnam War history, but it was emblematic of the war’s brutal daily grind. The operation unfolded during a period when U.S. forces were expanding their reach into Viet Cong-controlled territory around Da Nang.

These small-unit operations were often overshadowed by larger events, yet they accounted for the majority of American casualties. The enemy rarely fought in open battle; instead, they relied on the terrain, ambushes, and explosive traps to inflict damage and vanish. Marines learned quickly that “search and destroy” often meant “search and survive.”

The courage it took to patrol through enemy-infested countryside day after day cannot be overstated. Every rustle in the brush, every abandoned path, every mound of earth could conceal danger. PFC Packard’s death by explosive device was tragically common during this phase of the war—but to his comrades, it was personal. Every loss was.

Homecoming Without Return

When Robert’s remains were returned home, the news would have rippled through his family and the streets of Ridgewood. Gold Star banners quietly replaced blue ones. Mothers wept behind drawn curtains, fathers stood in silence, and friends gathered to share the kind of stories that never make the papers—the laughter, the plans, the everyday life cut short.

His funeral, like so many of that era, was likely both solemn and surreal: the flag-draped coffin, the Marines in dress blues, the slow folding of the flag, the sound of “Taps” echoing across a cemetery that had seen far too many sons of the 1960s.

The world kept turning, but for those who knew him, it never turned quite the same again.

The Enduring Meaning of Sacrifice

Robert Frank Packard’s story reminds us that sacrifice is not measured by rank or fame. He was not a general, not a decorated hero in the traditional sense—he was a young man who did his duty and paid the ultimate price. That, in itself, is the highest form of valor.

His death on November 7, 1966, places him among a brotherhood of Marines who have fallen in every corner of the globe since 1775. From Tripoli to Tarawa, from Chosin to Quảng Nam, their stories form a single thread of courage that defines the Marine Corps.

Closing Reflection

When we honor PFC Robert Frank Packard, we are not only remembering one Marine—we are acknowledging the generation he represents. A generation that bore the weight of a nation’s decisions and carried that burden into jungles, rice paddies, and distant villages.

His life may have been brief, but it burned brightly in service to others. The legacy of men like him continues through the families they left behind, the Marines who followed in their footsteps, and the living historians and curators who refuse to let their names fade into the noise of history.

Robert Frank Packard’s name stands among the honored on the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. It stands for courage. It stands for duty. And it stands as a reminder that freedom has always been paid for in youth and blood.

At Ghosts of the Battlefield, we tell his story so that others may remember—not as an anonymous name on a wall, but as a man who lived, served, and sacrificed.

PFC Robert Frank Packard, United States Marine Corps
Born April 2, 1946 – Died November 7, 1966
Quảng Nam Province, Republic of Vietnam
“Semper Fidelis”