We Build and We Fight: The Story of Navy Seabee Jon James Hayden

Jon James Hayden was one of those men whose war was not always marked by firefights or dramatic headlines, but by constant exposure to danger all the same. He was a Seabee — a U.S. Navy Constructionman — part of a unique brotherhood whose mission placed them in harm’s way even when the enemy was not immediately visible. Theirs was a war of steel, earth, and sweat, fought with bulldozers and hammers as much as with rifles, often under the same lethal conditions as front-line infantry.

Born on December 15, 1946, in Newark, Delaware, Jon James Hayden grew up in a nation still shaped by the aftermath of World War II and the early years of the Cold War. He came of age during a turbulent era, one defined by rapid change, global tension, and a growing American commitment in Southeast Asia. Like so many young men of his generation, Hayden answered the call to serve at a time when the outcome of the Vietnam War was uncertain and the cost increasingly heavy.

He enlisted in the United States Navy and became a Constructionman — a Seabee — a title that carried both pride and responsibility. The Seabees, whose name derives from the initials “CB” for Construction Battalion, were created during World War II to fill a critical gap: skilled builders who could construct vital military infrastructure in combat zones, often under fire. Their unofficial motto, “We Build, We Fight,” was not just a slogan but a reality lived daily in places like Vietnam.

In Vietnam, Seabees worked close to the front lines, building and maintaining the foundations of the war effort. They constructed airstrips that allowed aircraft to land in remote regions, roads that enabled troop movements and supply convoys, bridges that connected isolated outposts, and fortified bases that protected American and allied forces. They cleared land in contested territory, often exposing themselves to mines, booby traps, sniper fire, and mortar attacks. Even when shots were not being fired, danger was ever-present — from unstable terrain, heavy machinery, live weapons, and the relentless stress of operating in a combat environment.

Quang Tri Province, where Hayden would ultimately lose his life, was among the most dangerous regions in South Vietnam. Located near the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ), Quang Tri was a strategic and heavily contested area. It saw constant movement of troops, frequent enemy activity, and repeated engagements throughout the war. For those stationed there, the line between “combat” and “non-combat” duty was thin and often meaningless. The environment itself was hostile — thick jungle, oppressive heat, monsoon rains, and terrain scarred by bombardment and unexploded ordnance.

On August 16, 1967, while serving in Quang Tri Province, Jon James Hayden was killed in a non-hostile incident officially classified as accidental homicide. The record is stark and painful, offering little comfort in its brevity. While the exact circumstances are not the focus of remembrance, the truth remains unchanged: Hayden died while serving his country in a war zone, where danger existed at every moment and where even routine tasks could become fatal.

He was just 20 years old.

At an age when many are still discovering who they are and what life might hold, Hayden’s journey was cut short. His death serves as a sobering reminder that Vietnam claimed lives in many ways — not only through enemy gunfire and explosions, but through accidents, misjudgments, fatigue, and the unforgiving conditions of a war that never truly paused. For Seabees in particular, the hazards were constant. Heavy equipment operated in unstable terrain. Weapons were always nearby. Sleep was scarce. Tension was unrelenting. One moment of tragedy could alter countless lives forever.

Yet to reduce Jon James Hayden’s service to the manner of his death would be to miss the larger truth of who he was and what he represented.

As a Navy Seabee, Hayden was part of a force that made everything else possible. Without the roads, airfields, and bases built by men like him, operations across Vietnam would have ground to a halt. Infantry units relied on Seabees for fortified positions. Pilots relied on their runways. Medics relied on their clinics. Logistics depended on their roads and ports. Every structure they built helped protect lives and sustain the mission.

The Seabees did not merely construct buildings; they created footholds in hostile territory. They turned jungle into infrastructure, chaos into order, and vulnerability into defense. Their work often drew enemy attention, making construction sites frequent targets. Many Seabees carried weapons alongside their tools, ready to defend themselves and those around them at a moment’s notice. They were builders, but they were also warriors.

For Hayden, this meant living with constant responsibility — not just for his own safety, but for the success of missions that depended on his labor. Every road graded, every bunker reinforced, every facility completed was another piece of the vast, grinding effort that defined the Vietnam War. His service helped sustain those fighting around him, even if his name never appeared in headlines or citations.

Back home in Delaware, a family waited. A community waited. Like so many Gold Star families, they would receive the devastating news that their son, their brother, their friend would not be coming home. The distance between Quang Tri Province and Newark, Delaware suddenly became immeasurable — not just in miles, but in grief.

Today, decades later, Jon James Hayden’s name stands as part of the long roll of Americans who gave their lives in Vietnam. His story reminds us that sacrifice takes many forms and that every service member who died in that war — whether in combat or through other means — shared the same commitment to duty.

Remembering Hayden is also an act of recognition for the Seabees themselves. Too often overshadowed by more visible combat units, their contributions were indispensable. They worked in the shadows of war, shaping the environment so others could fight and survive. Their casualties, like Hayden, deserve the same honor and remembrance as those lost in battle.

Jon James Hayden was a Delaware son.
He was a United States Navy Seabee.
He was a Construction man who served where danger was constant and mercy rare.
He was a young man who answered his country’s call and paid the ultimate price.

We Build and We Fight.