Claude W. Mathews was born on May 31, 1940. His home of record is Franklinville, NJ.

He enlisted in the US Air Force and attained the rank of Airman First Class (A1C).

Mathews was killed in action on December 17, 1965.

Claude

May 31, 1940-December 17 1965 A1C, Air Force Franklinville, NJ

Claude Mathews was going to make a career of the Air Force. He enlisted upon graduation from Clayton High School in 1958, long before Vietnam became a household name. He had already completed training and assignments in Massachusetts, Greenland, Newfoundland, the Philippines, Kansas and Texas when he became the second serviceman from Gloucester County to give his life in Vietnam.
Bud Nichols owned and operated a family apple orchard in Franklinville, NJ, in the fifties and sixties. He hired local boys to maintain the orchard and to pick apples in the summer.
“The Mathews family lived across the street,” he says. “His older brother, Emerson, picked for me when I first started. And then Claude and Keith when they got older. Claude was thirteen, I think. He was out there all day long with the gang and got along with everyone. We fooled around a lot and had some good times, but it was a lot of hard work, too.”
There were ten children in the Mathews family. Claude ranked eighth in age but first in the hearts of Bud and his wife, Frances. The Nichols family had a finished recreation room with a pool table and dartboard. There always seemed to be a backyard football or baseball game going on. In the evenings and on rainy days, it was pinochle.
“He was over here every night,” recalls Bud. “We had a lot of fun with him. There was a pet name he didn’t like which I won’t say, but he really hated it. From the time he was a little kid to an adult, he was like a son to me. He grew up close to us.”
Joan Nichols of Franklinville was one of Claude’s sisters. She remembers Claude working for Bud as the only job he ever had. And then adds, “He loved to go roller-skating. On Friday and Saturday nights, he couldn’t wait to get to the rink.”
Charlotte Weber, also a sister, recalls her brother’s values. “He believed in whatever it was he was doing,” she says. “And he worked very hard at it.”
Henry Weber, Charlotte’s husband, also remembers Claude. “For that era, he was as good as any of them. He wasn’t afraid of work. He always kept working.”
Ethel Taylor, another sister, recalls his kindheartedness. “He would help anybody,” she says. “He would give you the shirt off his back. That’s the way he was, just a happy-go-lucky guy.”
Ruth Murphy was the oldest child. She only knew Claude as a child and saw him just once after he went into the service. She remembers a playful boy in the backyard. “We had a rooster tied in the back and Claude wanted to get near it,” she says. “But every time it came toward him, he would scream and laugh and run the other way.”
Claude had blue eyes and light brown hair. He was about 5’ 10” tall and well built, according to his family.
“I would compare him to Richie Cunningham from Happy Days,” says Sally Garvin of Millville, NJ. “He was real shy and sweet, someone you enjoyed being around.”
Garvin and Grace Dessin of Clayton were high school classmates of Mathews. Grace remembers his smile. “He wasn’t very outgoing,” she says. “But he did have a nice smile. You saw him at the roller rink a lot.”
David Nichols, now living in Brevard, N.C., is Bud’s younger brother. He and Claude were inseparable growing up. He remembers some of their misadventures.
“We lived quite far out in the country,” he says. “Claude, Howard Rencher and I used to roam the woods, exploring far and wide. We spent quite a bit of time fishing and, in the winters, skating around Idle Acres, a small pond near our home.
“I recall when we decided to try smoking and Howard had gotten each of us a cigar. We were skating and puffing away like big shots when one of our fathers drove by. We all held our cigars at our sides and held our breath the whole time the car was in sight. And finally, letting out the then small trickle of smoke after the car was gone.
“We grew up in the days of American Graffiti, cruising the main avenues of Vineland,” Dave Nichols continues. “One day, we got into a drag race with Bobby Albertson, one of our friends from Franklinville. As the race concluded, I started to turn around but Bobby took off. We wondered why until a state trooper pulled up alongside my car. He barked out at us to stay put and took off with his wheels squealing after Bobby. We were sure we were in trouble and the trooper was going to be really mad if Bobby got away.
“It was worse than that. After a short while, Bobby passed by blowing his horn. That made us certain he had gotten away and we were going to pay the price. We waited for an eternity until the trooper returned. He asked who was in the other car and of course, we said we had never seen him before. What we didn’t know was that Bobby had stopped just around the bend when he realized the trooper was heading his way. And that the trooper just wanted to make us sweat.
“The policeman looked over at Claude and asked, ‘Have you ever been in trouble, son?’ Claude, in all seriousness, answered, ‘I shot a dog once.’ I thought that had cooked our goose. Luckily, the trooper took it for what it was, pure innocence. He gave us a lecture about racing and not wanting to catch us again. And he let us go.”
As graduation neared, Claude considered what he was going to do with the rest of his life. The Air Force became an attractive option. Dave Nichols remembers. “Claude was a good and tireless worker on whatever he undertook. The service was a good chance for him to broaden his experience and earn some money.”
Claude became an aircraft mechanic when he joined the Air Force. He worked his way up to crew chief and after traveling all over the world, received his orders for Vietnam in November of 1965.
“When he first went into the service, he was homesick,” Bud Nichols recalls. “We would get letters every day or every other day. But then, it was once a week and then once a month. He liked the service and when he was home on leave, he came here a lot. We threw him a surprise twenty-first birthday party. It was quite a time.”
Claude became a member of the 4th Air Commando Squadron at Tan Son Nhut Air Base near Saigon. They were an elite unit, using attack aircraft to support ground operations. Claude was crew chief on one of many converted AC-47 troop transports outfitted with rocket launchers and rapid-fire machine guns that could fire up to 18,000 rounds per minute. They were devastating to enemy positions and earned nicknames such as ‘Puff, the Magic Dragon’ and ‘Spooky’.
Barely a month after his arrival in Vietnam, Claude mailed his last letter to Bud and Frances Nichols. It was dated December 16, 1965.

Dear Bud and Fran,
Just a few lines to let you know that I got Sandra’s picture and she looks like a little living doll. I got her picture in my locker and when someone sees her, they always tell me I have a good looking little girl there. I have a hard time trying to convince them that I’m not married and that she is yours, but they still don’t believe me.
This place over here is one heck of a place. I fly anywhere from 80 to 90 hours a month. Right now, I am at Tan Son Nhut but we got our new guns in for our airplanes and they are supposed to put them in tomorrow. So I guess by Monday I will be moving out and going to Can Tho. Every night I fly, I have to go there and pick up a Vietnamese observer just so we can drop flares. Once our guns are in, we will fly both day and night.
You know, this is going to be the longest year I have ever spent anywhere.
How is the weather back home? Is it getting cold? It is about 120 degrees over here. It is so hot that you don’t feel like doing anything. I have only been to Saigon twice since I have been here.
This place here has made me stop and think if I want to re-enlist again or not. I have met a lot of my old friends over here that I have been stationed with before and there are still more coming every day.
Frances, you should see how these women dress over here. You think Japanese dresses are nice. Wow, these are really something else.
Well, I guess I better close for now and get ready to fly.
Love always,
Claude

The next day, Claude’s plane was reported missing and by the eighteenth of December, it was determined that it had been shot down in bad weather near Phan Ran. The aircraft was destroyed and the entire crew was killed. The official casualty report lists the deaths as, ‘Hostile–died while missing’.
Christmas of 1965 is not fondly remembered by any of Claude’s family. “We were notified on the eighteenth that he was missing,” says Joan. “And we were at my house on Christmas Day when they notified us that he was killed. I just cried and cried.”
“Keith came over to tell us,” remembers Bud. “It was really a sad Christmas. It was the first real hard death I had to deal with. And, as close as Claude was, that was tough.”
David Nichols wonders today how Claude would have turned out after the service gave him the growth and experience he needed. And then adds, “Claude was fiercely loyal to his friends and the closest I can recall him nearly getting into a fight was standing up for a friend.”
Everybody who knew Claude wants him to be remembered as a fine young man, committed to doing the right thing. His family misses him terribly and there is still some anger about the result of ours efforts in Vietnam. Bud Nichols flies an American flag in front of his house “for Claude and all the veterans,” he says. “They gave up a lot so we can live like we do.” He pauses as tears fill his eyes, then adds, “He was like a son to me…like a son.”

Excerpt from They Were Ours: Gloucester County’s Loss in Vietnam
by John Campbell
Used with permission of author

Information provided by John Campbell (author) and NJVVMF.
12/17/2024