Kenneth R. Clough

Kenneth and I grew up together from early elementary school at Los Ranchos Elementary to the University of New Mexico. We were like brothers. Both of our parents called us Ken or Kenny for short; it was a peaceful, casual name. Our parents gave us both the registered name Kenneth at birth. That’s a great name, but when Ken and I heard “Kenneth,” most of the time it meant we were in trouble. For the most part, the 1950s were “Cool Man Cool,” which was the phrase back then and life was very good.

We did everything that young boys did back then; Boy Scouts, marbles, swimming, bicycling, go karts, motorcycles, fishing, and watching westerns. Ken also played the piano. He performed so elegantly when he played and the sound of his music was so lovely. He performed many recitals at Danfelser School of Music.

At Taft Junior High School, we were still into go karts and motorcycles, but with more power and speed! We looked at cars, but we were too young to have one. I knew how to drive the farm equipment at the age of 11, because I worked on my grandfather’s farm. I drove the trucks and tractors so I taught Ken how to drive them as well. We would race them in the field, back far enough out of sight from grandpa and my parents.

One day, Ken and I took one of the farm trucks out to the field. We thought it would be a cool idea to drive on Rio Grande Blvd., which was at the backside of this field. There was one problem; there was a small irrigation ditch that we had to fill-in with dirt to get the truck to the other side. We took out the shovel and filled the ditch with dirt so we could drive the truck over to the other side. Finally, after all that work we drove onto to Rio Grande Blvd. The traffic back then was very slow and there were very few cars. We felt great so we drove to downtown Central Avenue.

On Central, we drove slow enough to hit all the green lights. We went up Central to Albuquerque High School. We got scared at that point and turned back and drove home. We now had to dig out the dirt in the ditch to open it back up. That was a hard one hour job and a lot of work for a joyride that gave us a panic attack. That was the biggest no-no we ever did, and we never got caught. If something had gone wrong, we would have heard “Kenneth!” from both parents. We had many great days on the farm.

At Taft Junior High School we met new friends which now included girls. Ken had no trouble attracting girls. I think if he was still alive today, he would look like Kevin Costner or Robert Redford. Ken could’ve added a third career to his list as a Hollywood star. He had acting talent too.

When we started at Valley High School, we had to work. The times had changed. It was school, work and money for dates, cars and gas money. Ken started working at my family’s grocery store. The work was not hard. We kept busy at work and talked about what we were going to do after work or on the weekend.

High school was great until the Vietnam war broke out. Approaching graduation, all the guys would talk about either going to school or joining up. Gordon Gohlke, a longtime friend of the Kenneth’s from age 12, spent graduation night with us. We talked about our futures, which boiled down to two choices: go to war or go to college. Ken was set to attend the University of New Mexico. His father was the dean of engineering at UNM. Ken had it planned out, he would enter engineering school and the Navy ROTC. His father was an officer in World War II. Gordon and I decided to attend college that night. As we went through school, we would see each other on campus. I saw Ken in his white, navy ROTC uniform, and he looked the part of an Officer and Gentleman. His parents and sister, Janet, were so proud of him as well.

After our sophomore year, Ken decided to join up. He had the Navy ROTC background and engineering. He took private lessons to become a pilot. He was able to qualify for the US Army helicopter company on October 8, 1968 as a Warrant Officer (WO). Before he left, we had a very good talk. He asked me to be his best man when he got back to the states. He was engaged to Jeanne Sei, and hoped to be married sometime in 1969. I said “Yes!” to the best man role and we hugged each other. Before he got into his car to say goodbye, he looked at me and said, “I think I’m coming back in a wooden box.” I grabbed him and hugged him and said “NO, don’t say that!” I told him, “You will come back alive brother.” When I think of that day 55 years later, it brings tears to my eyes again and again. “My Brother.”

In Vietnam, Ken was chosen as one of the best pilots. He was transferred to the 336th Attack Helicopter Squadron in Soc Trang. He had been flying rescue and troop transport missions up to that time.

Ken was killed in combat January 7, 1969, when the helicopter he was flying was shot down. That was a heartbreaker for his family, fiancé, and friends. At the military funeral, the pallbearers were: John Davidson, Paul Pecovich, Kenneth Yonemoto, Roy Yonemoto, Scott Heath, Gordon Gohlke, Bill Cooksey and Don Lode. We will always have a special place in our hearts for him.

Ken’s parents and sister have sadly all passed away. Before their passing, his family gave me his dog tags. That was the greatest gift I could ever receive. I have it with his picture on a special shelf, but I carry his memory in my heart.

– Kenneth Yonemoto ’65

I met Kenneth Clough and Kenneth Yonemoto, who were close friends, at Taft Junior High School in seventh grade. We didn’t have many classes together, but still became friends. I called them Ken (Clough) and Kenny (Yonemoto). But that was still confusing when I spoke of them to others, like my parents, so I just referred to them by their last names. They both lived miles from me, so I didn’t spend much time with them other than at school. When we could drive we spent much more time together and they were both visitors at my home. My parents loved them both. My mother once remarked what a charmer Clough was, and was sure he had many young lady friends.

It wasn’t always the three of us together, because we all worked and had other friends. When I went to Clough’s house, I was usually greeted by Janet, his younger sister, who would direct me to his room. It was typical for him to be lying on his bed smoking an unfiltered Camel and blowing smoke rings at a Coke bottle on the cabinet a few feet away. He often made a ringer over the bottle.

We all had hand-me-down cars, and Clough’s was a ‘50s Cadillac that had been his mother’s. We talked about cars a lot and were always wanting something different, faster, cooler. Clough was especially anxious to get away from the Cadillac, which was easily seen by others as mom’s-old-car. So when he got a ’58 Chevy in our Junior year, he was thrilled, and he always wanted to drive when we went cruising. Needless to say, I never complained. We both accumulated several traffic tickets and had first-hand knowledge of the traffic court. A discussion about our experiences in that court revealed that we had been in front of the same judge with the same eventual result, we were told to never come back.

We all enrolled at UNM and often saw each other on campus. I also sometimes saw Ken’s dad, Dr. Clough, who was the Dean of Engineering. I was very surprised Ken enlisted in the Army, and feared for his safety. The night before he left for Vietnam, Yonemoto and I went to say farewell. He was with Jeanne, his fiancee. When we went to leave, we shook hands and he said “I won’t be coming home.” I was shocked but tried to dismiss it by saying “Oh bull, you’ll be fine.” Yonemoto and I walked away in disbelief and it was a quiet ride home.

Ken and I wrote back and forth while he was in Vietnam. He said he was flying medivac missions and was anxious to get into gunships. He also said he slept with his .45 under his pillow. I still have his letters, as well as my last letter to him, which was returned with a letter from the Army informing me that he had been killed in action.

My dad took me to Clough’s funeral where I was amongst his friends as honorary pallbearers. I think Dad was concerned about me driving in my emotional state. He also wanted to go. I vividly remember standing at graveside during the 21 gun salute and jumping with every round that was fired. The tears were rolling down my face and I looked across the grave to see Janet on the other side looking at me and sobbing as well. All the pallbearers went to a cafe after the funeral and recalled our escapades with Ken. It was a great relief to remember him with warmth and laughter. My dad remarked on the way home how uplifting it was to witness that occasion. My dad’s youngest brother had been killed in action in WWII. Ken was a smart, charming, caring soul whose memory will always be with me.

– Gordon Gohlke ’65