By Dr. Kevin Wallace
Van of Valor
FORT WALTON BEACH, Fla. – The story of retired Senior Master Sergeant Gus Sininger’s military career began not with a grand patriotic vision, but with a movie and a draft notice.
“We come out of the movie, and across the street was a recruiting office,” Sininger recalled in an interview with the Van of Valor project. “We looked at each other and said, ‘Let’s just join the service.’… We knew we didn’t want to get our number called out because we knew it was coming soon.”
That decision in 1960 launched a 23-year Air Force career that would span three tours in Vietnam, 289 combat missions, and a journey to a Purple Heart that took over three decades to complete. His story, filled with harrowing escapes, profound loss, and enduring patriotism, is one of many being preserved by Dr. Kevin and Lauren Wallace on their cross-country quest.
The Van of Valor mission, a project co-founded by Dr. Wallace, a Purple Heart recipient himself, and his wife Lauren, a Harvard history graduate student and anthropologist, is dedicated to collecting and sharing the stories of Purple Heart recipients and Gold Star families. Traveling the continental U.S. in a renovated van, they work to ensure that the sacrifices of American service members are never forgotten.
Sininger’s narrative is a powerful testament to that sacrifice. His first tour in Vietnam in 1968 was cut short by a rocket attack. He escaped immediate injury, only to wake up hours later with his leg severely swollen from a tiny piece of shrapnel “no bigger than the end of a pencil lead.” He was awarded the Purple Heart in the hospital but, surrounded by men with more grievous wounds, he told the chaplain, “I don’t deserve that. I really don’t.”
It was a decision that would haunt him later, not for the lack of recognition, but for the lost opportunity for his family. “If I had known that… if I was going to spend 20 years, I wouldn’t have turned it down,” he said.
Sininger’s service was defined by his role as a flight engineer on the AC-119K “Stinger” gunship, a heavily armed aircraft designed for night missions. Perched on an ammo can between the pilot and co-pilot, he was responsible for the plane’s complex systems while dodging enemy fire.
He recounted bringing a plane back with 13 feet of its wing missing, and the terrifying experience of a Surface-to-Air Missile (SAM) streaking past his aircraft. “The concussion come back down, and the airplane went…” he recalled, his voice trailing off. He earned three Distinguished Flying Crosses and 13 Air Medals for his actions in the air.
Yet, the memories of those who didn’t return are the most vivid. He emotionally shared the story of his pilot, Ronnie Hammond, who was killed by a rocket on the base just moments after they parted ways. Hammond’s daughter, born after he deployed, has since reached out to Sininger, seeking to stand on the spot where her father fell.
The end of his service was met not with gratitude, but with vitriol. Returning through San Francisco airport in uniform, he was spat on, called a “baby killer,” and had eggs and tomatoes thrown at him.
“It took a while to get over that,” Sininger admitted. The rejection by the public he fought for was a deep wound. “I’m a patriot, son of a bitch… I believe in the flag. I believe in the United States. That’s the only reason I went to Vietnam.”
Healing came through his second wife, Jeannie, and the camaraderie of the Gunship Association, where he could talk with others who shared his experiences. Decades after his retirement, a chance conversation with a retired colonel who managed a condominium where Sininger worked finally set things right. The colonel, incensed that Sininger’s initial Purple Heart submission had been denied by a low-ranking clerk, helped him fight the bureaucracy. In a formal ceremony at the Air Force Armament Museum, over 30 years after the rocket attack, Gus Sininger was finally presented with his Purple Heart.
“This project exists for stories like Gus’s—stories of immense resilience, quiet humility, and a patriotism that survives both enemy fire and public scorn,” said Lauren Wallace, co-founder of the Van of Valor. “He turned down a medal out of respect for his fellow airmen and carried that secret for years. His journey underscores the complex, often painful, legacy our veterans bring home. Preserving his first-hand account is not just about recording history; it’s about honoring the deep, personal cost of service and ensuring that cost is understood by future generations.”
Despite a life marked by combat injuries, a near-fatal appendix rupture, a five-way bypass, and septic shock, Sininger’s spirit remains resilient. His advice to young people considering enlistment today is simple and heartfelt.
“Trust your heart,” he said. “If you join a service, give it all you got. Because they will take care of you… You got to protect yourself and fight for yourself.”
Through the Van of Valor, the story of Gus Sininger—from a Kentucky teenager avoiding the draft to a decorated, patriotic veteran—will now be protected and shared, ensuring his legacy of service and survival is never forgotten.
To read more or to support the Van of Valor’s mission, visit www.HelpVoV.com
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