Van of Valor

By Dr. Kevin P. Wallace
Van of Valor

ST. LOUIS, (Nov. 9, 2025)  – In a quiet voice that still carries the authority of a helicopter pilot, CW2 Bob Zahn stood before an audience here yesterday and began with a number: “I’m Bob Zahn – one year in Vietnam changed the path of my life for 60 years.”

What followed was not just a war story told at the 2025 Saint Louis Veterans Ball, but a raw, decades-spanning testimony of combat, trauma, and a hard-won journey to peace that resonated deeply with the crowd. 

The 80-year-old Army veteran, a former Huey gunship pilot, shared a narrative that moved from the jungles of Vietnam to the brink of a broken marriage, and ultimately, to a mission of healing that he urges his fellow veterans to begin today.

Zahn’s military story is one of intense pressure and youth. Drafted after high school, he enlisted in the Army, driven by a love for aviation inherited from his father, a WWII Navy pilot. 

By 21, he was an aircraft commander in the 9th Cavalry, flying a heavily armed “Hog” gunship — a role he loved, but one that came at a cost.

“We were the hunter killer squadron,” Zahn recounted, describing low-level flights where his crew hunted the enemy. “The first three months, I was very scared. The next six months were just wild… most of us had no fear. The last three months, you started to realize you just might make it. It was time to be scared again.”

He spoke of the bonds forged in combat and the loss that never fades. “I have over 60 names on the Vietnam Wall… all are my brothers.”

The turning point in his tour, a memory that haunted him for nearly 50 years, was a harrowing flight at the onset of the Tet Offensive in 1968. Hitching a ride on a helicopter fresh from maintenance, they found themselves unarmed and flying directly into an ambushed convoy. The cabin was raked with enemy fire, killing the co-pilot instantly and wounding the aircraft commander twice.

In a moment of sheer instinct, Zahn, himself wounded in the calf without realizing it, dragged the co-pilot’s body from his seat, wrestled the controls from the wounded pilot, and helped his friend, McAnnally, land the crippled aircraft.

“For 50 years, I wondered why Mac didn’t react sooner,” Zahn shared. It was at a reunion that Mac finally provided the answer: “He said, ‘Bobby, I have never been so scared in my whole life, I froze.’” 

Zahn had heard of fight or flight, he said, “but I had never heard the term ‘freeze’ until I got counseling.”

That admission underscored the central message of Zahn’s speech: the invisible wounds of war are as real as the physical ones. For decades, he was one of those veterans who “would never go to the VA.” He retired at 62, but his unaddressed trauma festered.

“I seemed to be drinking more… I seemed to be getting angrier and angrier. I didn’t notice that either,” he said. 

His wife, Angie, finally issued an ultimatum after 45 years of marriage: get help, or she was done. 

“She would go to bed and I was angry… she would wake up and I was angry. She didn’t know why and honestly, neither did I,” recalled Zahn.

That crisis forced him to the Vet Center, where he found a counselor, Chris Figura, who set him on a new path. Through counseling, a program called Warrior’s Ascent, yoga, and meditation, Zahn began to shed the “pain, guilt, and anger” he had carried for half a century.

“Little did I realize that some of us came back wounded, but all of us came back scarred,” he told the audience. “It is time to reassess our duties and prepare for a new mission. Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.”

His new mission is one of connection and service. He now finds solace and camaraderie in veterans’ organizations like the Jared Burke Foundation and Walleyes for Wounded Heroes, forming a new “band of brothers and sisters” where healing happens around campfires and on fishing trips.

Zahn concluded with a direct call to action, offering eight points for a meaningful life post-service. They include asking for help relentlessly, not quitting, not leaving your family behind, and, crucially, telling your stories.

“There were two million, seven hundred and fifty thousand warriors sent to Vietnam. Over two million are now gone and lost with them are all their stories,” he said. “It is up to us to leave a legacy that our brothers and sisters and our families would be proud of.”

For Bob Zahn, the path from the cockpit of a gunship to a mission of peace was long and bumpy, but as he proved to a rapt audience in St. Louis, it is a journey that can begin at any age.

Editor’s Note: If you feel moved by Chief Warrant Officer Bob Zahn’s story, reach out to the Van of Valor team by email or the contact cards at www.HelpVoV.com. The Van of Valor is a nation-wide mission to capture stories like Zahn’s. Although the team could not be in St. Louis personally for Zahn’s speech, they provided this summation story based on his speech. Let us help you get your story out. Again, reach us at the website above, or email Manteo.Creative.Spot@gmail.com