Dazed and Confused
The imagination is a wonderful paintbrush when allowed to stroke the canvas of the past unhindered. Unlike a photograph it uses hues of emotional reality to create an image of personal reality. For this reason I decided to allow my imagination to use the emotional hues of my memory to paint this story.
The stories were prophetic
My first memory of
I was taken with the other FNG’s (f**king
new guys) to a holding area where soldiers who were on their way home, or “back
to the world” were staying. I stayed
there for a few nights and heard many stories from the old timers, some scared
me, others made me laugh. One of the stories that scared me was told by a
I did hear one funny
story that stands out in my memory. It
was told by a guy who was very jovial and had an infectious laugh, he talked
about all kinds of funny things. He talked about the people of
Camp Enari near Pleiku
next day I was called into a large room where they read off my unit assignment.
I was assigned to the 4th Infantry Division, which at that time, was
After a short ride in the armored car, I was
dropped off somewhere in
At this point, I believe I started to become a little paranoid. One night inside my quonset hut, I began to think that this was all a dream, and I would soon wake up, and that everyone there was playing a trick on me. I realized it was no trick when a mortar dropped near the quonset hut where I was staying, killing one soldier and wounded another.
Shrouded in a dingy green meshed mosquito net inside a dark and smoky room listening to rumbling voices echo into the darkness, I float on a dream of fear, filled with false images of a far away place anticipating the sudden awakening from the nightmare, when death awakened the truth from its slumber, and I rose into the light of day.
this in-processing period, an officer and sergeant came around looking for
volunteers for a two-week recondo training course for the 75th Infantry ranger
unit. I figured two more weeks in base camp and a little more training would
give me more time away from the jungle. I wasn’t ready to hit the kill zone. I
wasn’t gung ho! by any means. I didn’t enlist in this crazy war, I was drafted!
My only goal was to get out alive. I have to admit that I was very naïve for
twenty. I had just turned twenty-years old three months earlier, while training
my entire tour in
Recondo Training course
classes and orientation to
my first mission in
What really stands out in my memory from the recondo training course is the running. For two weeks, I could not walk anywhere. I had to run, even if it were only two or three steps, I had to run. If you were caught walking, you had to do fifty push-ups. I must say, “I got pretty good at doing push-ups”. The final test was again, running! This time it was a five-mile run to be completed in less than an hour. What made it tough was that you wore complete jungle fatigues with weapon, ammunition, water and a thirty-pound sand bag in your rucksack during the hottest part of the day.
made the run and passed the course only to be told that I did not pass the
security screening because of an arrest for possession of marijuana. I was
eighteen and fresh out of high school and was busted for thirteen roaches in
1968. Then, there in
my rejection from the 75th Rangers, I was assigned to a recon
platoon out of the Divisional Base at
I arrived at
“a war with no boundaries or indications of friend or
foe. So many smiles of, “you number one GI,” and beyond the looking glass, the
need to survive, “you number 10 you die.” In
Company was out on a mission when I arrived at
“a piercing shrill in the darkness of night, as I try to gauge its intent. I welcomed the thud at the end of its cry, for I knew I would not die. I’ve heard it said, with no cry you die, but I’ll never know, as the shells they slow, and the night becomes permanent for those who know.”
was difficult getting use to the relentless firing of artillery. The 105mm and
8-inch howitzers and the 175mm guns fired all day and night, mostly at night,
harassment and interdiction (H&I) fire. The sound and shock waves were
unbelievable! I would lie on my cot at
night thinking about what it must be like on the receiving end of those guns. I
knew what it was like with VC or NVA mortars and rockets. It was very
frightening to say the least. I just could not imagine being on the receiving
end of the magnitude of firepower that was unleashed on the Vietcong and NVA
every day and night from
was a huge commissary, “Wal-Mart like” in the middle of the camp, it had
everything except a ticket back to the world! It had electronics of all kinds,
jewelry and clothing, and the biggest seller, cigarettes! With cigarettes, you
could trade to the Vietnamese for just about anything. With enough cigarettes,
I probably could have gotten a ticket back to the world.
Sin Cities were whorehouses sanctioned by the army. The military police would be stationed outside during the day, and they made sure that you were gone before nightfall. GI’s would go there to have a little fun and blow off some stream with the mama-sans. You could buy a beer for around 50 piasters and sex for 300 piasters. The mama-san would say “you number 1 GI” which meant great, number 10 meant you suck, and sex was “boom boom” and that usually happened in a small room behind the bar.
in An Khe looked old and dirty, buildings were made from cardboard and odd
pieces of tin. Like
Di Di Mau
you were lucky when on stand-down, (time away from the jungle, usually three or
four days at base camp), you would draw patrol duty on the An Khe side of
Well the mama-sans did come out to our campsite and they partied with us all night for twenty dollars each. When I say partied all night, I mean they stayed all night. I was a little hesitant about having these girls stay all night, but nature’s call intervened, I gave a pretty mama-san twenty dollars, and we both climbed on my air mattress. The party lasted about an hour or so and I wanted to sleep, but I had a problem. The air mattress was not big enough for both of us. I pushed her off hoping that she would find her way home so I could get some sleep, but she didn’t go home, she said something in Vietnamese and climb back on the mattress. I finally gave up on that tactic after a few tries and rolled over onto the ground wrapped in a blanket and went to asleep. I woke up just before light and she was still there on my mattress, so nature and I crawled back on that mattress until the sun peaked above the horizon and she “di di mau” (go quickly) back home.
119TH AVIATION COMPANY
(ASLT HEL) Logged on
The Gators and Crocs initiated the insertion of the 4th Inf Div troops 1st Battalion, into firebase Abbey. Firebase Abbey is located 7.5 KM northwest of firebase, LZ Lewis. The next day the company supported firebase Abbey by inserting dog teams and recon patrols 10KM west of Abbey. This operation was to detect enemy movement from the north to the AN KHE area.
flew out to firebase Abbey a week or so after arriving at
As we flew over firebase Abbey, it looked very dry and dusty. A river flowed lazily along the valley floor, creating a beautiful view from the helicopter. As the huey set down, red dust began to fly everywhere. I was amazed that the pilot could maneuver the helicopter down onto the landing tarmac. The firebase was built on a mountaintop that had been denuded. The trees and bushes had been replaced with artillery and bunkers. Barbed wire had been positioned all around the perimeter. Bunkers lined the inner edge of the perimeter and the artillery was located near the center. As I stood there looking at all of this, a CH-47 Chinook transport helicopter began hovering over the tarmac. I had never been this close to a Chinook so I stood there just watching. Big mistake, red dust was flying everywhere and so was I. The force of the wind created by the Chinook tossed me into some barbed wire about twenty feet away. Trip flares began to go off, which totally freaked me out. I was pulled from the barbed wire unscathed and very embarrassed.
I was ushered into a dark bunker where I was introduced to members of my new platoon, Fox Force. Fox Force was part of Echo Company, which was comprised of two platoons, Four-Deuce mortar and Fox Force recon platoon. Our lieutenant’s name was Norton. He was very young. I would guess around 23 years old. I immediately liked him because he seemed so self-assured, I needed that at that time. He asked me if I had ever fired a machine gun. I said “only during training.” At that point, he introduced me to Dan, who was the current machine gunner. Dan had been in country for quite some time and decided to relocate to the rear. The platoon needed a machine gunner and I was picked for the job.
platoon also had a couple of “Kit Carson Scouts”. Their names were Ten and Who. Kit Carson Scouts were VC soldiers who surrendered
themselves to an American unit, this was called
The following day after meeting the platoon, we were assigned a combat mission, which would be my first! That morning I noticed that everyone was wearing a red scarf. I thought this was crazy, but I didn’t say a thing. I found out later that it was a tradition carried on from a past group of Fox Force members. I think it was supposed to show the enemy that we were a little crazy as well as courageous. I know that I did wear the scarf, and I still have mine, but on hindsight, I think it was more crazy than courageous.
Lieutenant Norton gave me the machine gun and asked me to shoot at a tree about 100 yards away. I fired about 100 rounds and hit the tree only once, Lieutenant Norton said, “Good shot, saddle-up.” We all loaded into three or four helicopters and headed out for my first combat assault! Dan was sitting next to me telling me what to expect. As the helicopter got closer to the ground, everyone started to jump off. Everything was a blur, guns and rockets were firing and I was a little confused. What I remember next was Dan pushing me to the ground as he fired at a VC, who appeared to be just behind me. Dan saved my life that day. I think that’s what binds soldiers together, strangers from all parts of the country, from different cultural back grounds and differing political and religious affiliations. They’re all bound by the need to survive. You watch my back, I’ll watch yours! The soldier’s bond is a very special one, its family.
As I ran down the ridge from our Landing Zone (LZ), me and a few other guys, I can’t remember who they were, began to chase a couple of VC into the jungle. We ran quite some distance until we came to an open area where the trail began to drop off into a valley. I still remember the view from there it was post card perfect. Only problem was, we lost the VC, so we turned and headed back toward the LZ. As we turned and headed back through a small clearing, a Cobra helicopter spotted us. Cobra helicopters were armed with a side-mounted six-barrel "minigun" and a seven-tube 2.75-inch rocket launcher, which could rain down terror from the sky. Because we wore camouflage jungle fatigues and bush hats instead of the normal jungle fatigues and steel pots, the pilot thought we were VC and opened up on us with his minigun. I dove under an old tree limb and didn’t move a muscle. The other guys did the same. I will never forget that sound, it sounded like a sewing machine on steroids, and then the whole jungle began to rip apart.
It seemed ironic that my first combat assault would end with me being killed by friendly fire. We didn’t have a radio, so we had no means of contacting the Cobra. One of the guys said, because I have very blonde hair that I should take my hat off and run out into the open waving my hands. I thought man this is crazy just about the same time the Cobra passed over again and sprayed the area with his steroid sewing machine. I had no choice, so I ran out like a mad man, waving my arms and jumping up and down to get his attention. It worked! He flew by and waved from his cockpit. I could just hear him thinking, whoops!
Ambush and Moans
made it back to the unit all in one piece, albeit scared as hell! We joined the
platoon, and as we moved down the hill into a small flat area, one of the guys,
Peaches, a very young likeable guy from
The next morning someone spotted a VC walking nonchalantly across an open area just below the ridge where we were. I remember for some reason, we had a sniper with us on this mission. He carried an M-14 with a scope. He took aim on the VC, who was about two or three hundred yards away. He pulled the trigger, I heard the shot, and about a half second later, the VC fell. We watched for a moment, and then he moved. He was trying to crawl behind a big boulder that stood near by. The sniper fired a few more shots and it was over.
The transitional line where life ends and death begins, is the moment of truth known and simultaneously forgot – where a soft flickering shadow licks a silent caress on the moment between the end and the beginning – the moment where life is but a silent caress!
Because we had found a cache of rice in the area, which meant that there could be more, Lieutenant Norton called in for artillery to work the area around the clearing. One of the guys took a punji stick in the kneecap while searching the tall bush for weapon or rice caches. The punji sticks, made of bamboo, were mounted vertically in the ground with sharpened tips around the rice cache. The punji sticks were frequently smeared with feces, adding insult to injury. The injury may heal quickly but the insult of bacteria may cause longtime disabilities.
lieutenant was told that the artillery on Fire Base Abbey was being used in
support of another company. He finally was granted support from naval guns
located offshore in the
We stayed out on that assignment for a week or so looking for food and weapon caches, and during that time, I learned a lot about myself. I made the transition from boy to man. We eventually ended up back at firebase Abbey. Before we climbed up to the firebase, we all jumped in that lazy river for a swim. What a treat that was! This account of my first combat assault is comprised of many vague thoughts and feelings. I’m sure the reality for each guy was different, but for me, this is how I remember my first combat assault.
The bird twittered & The lizard would croak
flew back to
night felt like a party. Everyone was in a great mood. I remember it was the
first time I heard the Re-up Bird. I couldn’t believe it at first. I thought
the guys were kidding me. Well after listening very closely, I could hear it!
Re-up, it would say, in a twittering kind of way. That was funny, but the F**k
You Lizard was even funnier when it answered the Re-up Bird. That night I was
entertained by the Re-up Bird and the F**k You Lizard. When the bird twittered,
“Re-up” the lizard would croak “f**k you.” This was crazy! Sitting on top of a
Well things did get crazier! Later that night, sometime after , we could see some explosions on the airstrip, one after the other, right down the line, explosion after explosion. I thought it was incoming from outside the camp. The word came up that Sappers had infiltrated the perimeter and had attacked the airstrip. Sappers were North Vietnamese Army or Vietcong demolition commandos that would snick through the perimeter of the base camp and place their satchels of explosive in bunkers or aircraft, usually in the middle of the night. This attack resulted in 17 aircraft destroyed or damaged. There were no American casualties’ and the sappers evaded capture. We were very vigilant the rest of the night “to say the least.”
LZ Hard Times
stand down ended we headed by convoy to LZ Hard Times. Hard Times was located
I believe our next mission was in conjunction with two other line companies. We were positioned along the base of a mountain near LZ Hard Times. All the companies were lined up in single file and swept across the mountainside flushing out the enemies’ position. I remember this as being one of the stupidest things I had ever seen. We had hundreds of soldiers, single file, cutting through brush and boulders up the side of a mountain with f-105 jets firing 20 caliber exploding rounds on the mountainside. This was well and dandy, until one of the f-105’s left its guns on a split second too long, dusting the area where we were with 20 caliber exploding rounds. Fortunately, no one was injured. This was up there with my Cobra experience a few weeks earlier. It looked as if friendly fire was becoming my nemesis.
Fire in the hole
never stayed in one place too long. We often did rescue missions. I remember
one where a Chinook had dropped a load of ammunition in dense triple canopy
jungle. The army didn’t want to recover it, so they sent an explosive team to
blow it up. Our job was to march through the jungle as fast as possible,
securing the area for the explosive team. We humped all day through very dense
terrain and finally reached the dropped ammunitions. We set-up our perimeter
and waited for the explosive team to wire the ammo for detonation. The next day
we were ready for action. We moved away, far away from the site and some one
yelled,” fire in the hole” Well let me
tell you, that was some explosion! The area looked like a B52 bomber had dropped
a couple of bombs on it. I often wonder how much money was lost, and why they
chose to destroy and not recover. Oh well! There is a lot I will never
119TH AVIATION COMPANY
(ASLT HEL) Logged on
"Gator 362" was about the finest aircraft in the first flight. Today the ship was destroyed by enemy mortar fire sitting in LZ Nutmeg. It was piloted by 1LT Mchugh. The only serious injury was WO1 Spivey who broke his leg while flying as first pilot. Later in the day, the Gator and Croc pulled a final extraction of LZ Nutmeg and moved the people to LZ Mark Twain 20 miles to the south.
A few days later, we flew into firebase Nutmeg, south of the Mang Yang pass. We landed on the firebase and immediately set-up our positions on the perimeter. We were pretty close to the landing pad and it was cool watching the helicopters. They would fly in as fast as possible, and fly out just as fast. I soon realized why. I remember the first mortar hitting about one hundred yards beyond the landing pad. The next few rounds walked right down to the pad where a huey helicopter was dropping off some troops. Just as the last soldier jumped off the huey, it took a round right in the nose and rolled forward onto its blades. It spun around a few times and stopped. The first pilot suffered only a broken leg, and the co-pilot and door gunners were thrown clear, receiving minor injuries.
Fox Force was sent out to locate the VC and eliminate the threat. We left the firebase and headed down the mountainside into very dense terrain. We knew the VC was very mobile and they could be anywhere, so we just kept our heads down and moved very quietly through the dense jungle. We stayed out there for days playing a cat and mouse game, the mortar attacks continued, we were always where they weren’t. We did find an abandoned Montagnard village that had been abandoned just minutes before we arrived. There were chickens and pigs running about as we searched the hootches and the bush along its perimeter. I remember looking in an area just out side of the perimeter of the village where I saw some straw laid in an unusual position. Thinking that it may have been a cache of food or weapons, I slowly stuck my hand inside the straw feeling for any objects that may have been hidden there. To my surprise it felt like mud, so I with drew my hand and realized that I had just stuck my hand into feces! It probably was their composting pit, because human and animal waste was an extremely valuable commodity to the Montagnards. What little crops they grew they would need fertilizer. So I suspect they composted human and animal waste for that purpose. My hand smelled for days, no matter how often I washed it, time was the only cleanser of that smell. I remember one of the guys chased down one of the pigs, it wasn’t very big, he hit it across the back of it’s neck a few times with his machete until it bleed to death. He them skinned the pig and skewered it over a fire pit. Some of the guys ate it, I couldn’t because it smelled to bad. We returned to the firebase and after a few more days, and it was decided that the firebase would be shut down. We returned to the jungle and continued our reconnaissance until the firebase was abandoned. The downed huey was stripped of all useable parts and the shell was left behind as bait for scavenging VC.
We moved in on the perimeter of the abandoned firebase, and positioned ourselves on a small hill that gave us a clear view of the firebase, and the downed helicopter. The firebase looked eerie, just days before there was so much life,
Soldiers moved across the landscape of bunkers and foxholes, as helicopters floated down from the blue sheath of sky, stretched from tree line to tree line. Laughter and music waxed and waned between mortar and artillery fire, and the smell of diesel thick, wafted above human waste pits, overflowed with stench. So much blood, sweat and tears shed for this empty firebase, in the middle of a jungle, half way around the world. Insane!
We sat there quietly, watching and waiting for any movement. Just about sunset a group of people came out of the jungle and began to rummage through the abandoned firebase. I didn’t get a good look at them, I was covering the rear. As the group approached the downed helicopter, the guys up front opened fire. My curiosity caused me to move to the front so I could see what was happening. I remember seeing dead bodies lying near the helicopter. A couple of the guys went down to check them out. They returned with some weapons and we made it out of there in a hurry.
As we entered the jungle, the sun had gone down and it was pitch dark. It began to rain so hard it was difficult to walk. Because of the rain and the darkness, the point man couldn’t find his way through the bush, so word came back from the front to drop in place, we were going to stay there for the night. I fell right there were I stood and pulled my poncho out of my rucksack and pulled it over me and fell asleep. When I awoke in the morning, the rain had stopped and I was almost dry. We never looked back, we just saddled-up and moved on.
A few days later, we cut an LZ for our resupply helicopter. We were resupplied about two times a week. If we were in a hot zone, the supplies were dropped from the helicopter to the ground. The helicopter crew didn’t like to hang around very long. They wanted to get in and out as fast as possible. Our supplies usually consisted of clean fatigues and underwear, food and water, ammo and mail. There were times when we got beer from the rear. We would all chip in some money and one of the guys in the rear would payoff a helicopter crew to bring it out with some ice. We cooled down the beer by rolling it on small pieces of ice for a few minutes. It never got that cold but hey, it was beer. Each C-ration meal contained cheese, crackers, a can of something edible, toilet paper, and a small box of cigarettes. Once in awhile we would get a Supplementary Ration Pack. It was a cardboard box about three feet by two feet by eight inches in size with 10 cartons of cigarettes, some chewing tobacco, some candy, several tablets of writing paper and ball point pens, and some replacement boot laces. Once, a helicopter flew in with ice cream. It was a reward for having the highest number of kills for the week. Now that was crazy!
The next mission that I remember was around the time of the Lieutenant’s or someone’s birthday, not sure who’s. We celebrated that night with fireworks on the mountainside. Each night before setting up camp the lieutenant would call in our coordinates and have smoke markers fired to mark our position. On this night, I remember live artillery and white phosphorus rounds lighting up the hillside. I think I was listening to The Beatles song “A long and winding road,” it was the first time I heard the song and thought that it was perfect for how I felt at the time. There were a lot of times lying out there in the jungle late at night, curled up on my air mattress, or on the ground if my mattress had a hole, which it often did, that my mind would try to escape the reality of the jungle. I would just lie there staring off into the darkness.
The dark walls of jungle push from all sides, pushing from all directions at the same time, the color of its darkness so heavy with despair, smothered in depression, I gasp for fresh air. Tomorrow seems a distant thought, shaded in fear and uncertainty, the moonless night it wrought. I roll from side to side in search of a glimmering light, until slumber claims the darkness of the moonless night…
next morning came with a bang. We were saddled-up and ready to head out when a
couple of VC walked right into our campsite. The point man saw them and fired a
few rounds. They turned and ran back down the hillside. We chased them, I think
there was a blood trail but we never found a body. I did fine a pith helmet
lying in the bush. I still have it. It’s one of the few things I brought back,
other than myself. I kept it because of the inscription inside the hat. The
inscription was the name of the soldier and the date he enlisted. The curious
thing is that the date was the exact date that I entered
It put a human face on Charlie, which I had forgotten. The military tries to dehumanize the enemy with names that take away his humanity. I’m sure this was done on both sides of the battlefield, names like, gook, dink and Charlie. I don’t know what names were used for GI’s by the enemy, but I suspect there were a few.
119TH AVIATION COMPANY
(ASLT HEL) Logged on
Once again, the Gators were over the Cambodian border inserting recon patrols and companies from the 1st and 2nd Battalion of the 4th Inf Div. This time the enemy was a little obnoxious as he continued to put massive ground fire up at the C and C ships. There were negative injuries but operations were delayed until the enemy strongholds were equalized by heavy artillery and continuous air strikes.
the first of May, we got word that something big was coming down. A few days
later, the sky was full of hueys. It reminded me of the scene in The Wizard of
Oz where the flying monkeys filled the sky in search of Dorothy, It was very
ominous. The helicopters swooped down and gathered up all the line companies,
as well as Echo Company. We were flown back to
While sitting there on the dusty airstrip waiting for our transport chopper, a reporter from Time Magazine took a few snapshots of the platoon. I saw the pictures a few weeks later when one of the guys got a letter from home. His mom had seen the pictures in the magazine and sent them to him. I couldn’t see my face in the picture because I had my back turned to the camera, but you could see my M60, and the other guys pretty well. Their red scarves stood out!
eventually were loaded onto a Chinook and dropped off somewhere in
the early days of the war, it took six months to travel from
April 30th, President Richard Nixon announced to a national
television audience that US troops were invading
Three Stupid GI’s
We had traveled about two kilometers when word came down to take a ten-minute break. Me and three other guys dropped our rucksacks in a slight depression and sat down. While sitting there I noticed the ground began to move. I pushed back some decaying leaves and hundreds of leeches began crawling up my legs. I pulled my legs back and pulled up my pant legs to check for leeches. There was a battalion of these slimy bloodsuckers marching up my legs. They were big, fat, and juicy blood engorged suckers, working hard to suck all the blood from my body. I whipped out my Zippo and began the firefight. One after the other they fell, and just as the last sucker fell, I noticed that me and the other two guys had been left behind. I didn’t want to panic but I felt very vulnerable.
I remember thinking that the VC could have been waiting for the perfect moment to strike, and this would be the perfect moment to take out three stupid GI’s. We couldn’t yell because that would give our position away. Fortunately, one of the guys was the RT0, (radio telephone operator) and had a radio. He got on the horn and told the lieutenant that we had lost contact with the platoon. It was decided a yellow smoke canister would be popped and that we should walk toward the smoke. When we saw the smoke, about four hundred meters away we wanted to run toward it, but we didn’t, because we didn’t want to be mistaken for VC and shot by a trigger happy soldier. We slowly advanced toward the smoke and made contact with our unit. We were very happy and embarrassed at the same time, to be back with the unit. Some of the guys made a few wise cracks, but we knew we deserved them.
We made camp there for the night. The jungle was very thick and because total darkness comes quickly in the jungle, we hurried to set out our trip flares and claymores on the perimeter of our campsite. Just before darkness, we heard someone yelling off in the distance. He was yelling in English that he was lost and from Bravo Company. We didn’t want to give away our position by yelling back, because it could have been a trap. A couple of our guys went out to check it out. They returned with a very frightened American soldier. He had been separated from his unit for a couple of days. I remember thinking how frightened I was for the hour or so that I was separated from my unit and understood his fear.
The next day one of the line units spotted a hootch, (hut). Lieutenant Norton was a little upset that the recon platoon didn’t spot the hootch first. I figured who gives a crap it was spotted. The hootch was part of an abandoned campsite for the NVA. It looked as if they had left in a hurry. The bomb craters near by were clues as to why they left lickety-split. Someone found a wounded NVA soldier in a small bunker. His entire body had been burnt with napalm and was full of maggots. I was amazed that he was still alive. The medics refused to treat him because he smelled so badly. They were ordered to make him comfortable until he could be evacuated by helicopter.
We destroyed the hootches and bunkers and moved to higher ground for the night. That night I heard gunfire and mortars from all directions. It began to rain hard and I was wet, cold, and laying in the mud. It was miserable. I couldn’t make a hammock from my poncho to get off the ground because of the gunfire, so I just wrapped myself in the poncho and waited for the sun to come up.
I woke up I was dry and still pissed off but happy that it had stopped raining.
My body heat inside that poncho had dried everything. The next day we found the
Ho Chi Minh Trail. The trail was very wide and you could tell that it was well
used. The earth was very hard, the exposed roots of trees were worn down, and
the jungle was thick. We left
119TH AVIATION COMPANY
(ASLT HEL) Logged on
With the combined efforts of Gators and 57th
Gladiators, the 1st BDE, 4th INF. DIV. was pulled out of
We set-up shop on firebase Stump located on the Vietnamese side of the border. We worked hard to complete our bunker before nightfall. firebase Stump was appropriately named because stumps were everywhere. It must have been cleared with chainsaws. It was built on flat ground surrounded by dense jungle. The tree line was maybe 200 meters away from the perimeter and our bunker! That night around sappers penetrated the wire on the other side of the firebase and tossed explosives into a couple of bunkers. I heard the explosion and thought it was incoming.
The lieutenant asked for a couple of us to go help defend the other perimeter. I grabbed someone’s M16 and headed over to the other side of the base. It was dark as hell, I could barely see but a few feet in front of me. I knew that I could have easily been seen as a sapper, so I made my presence known as I approached each bunker. I eventually made it to the other side and found the damaged bunkers. The perimeter was secure so I returned to my bunker. The next morning a body count revealed two dead GI’s. By mid afternoon, the bodies still laid in a metal container that looked like a small storage shed. Some of the soldiers on the firebase were upset that the bodies were still there, because the heat inside that metal container must have been extreme. They felt that the unit commanders were being disrespectful in leaving the dead soldiers in the hot shed. I believe the bodies were flown out the next morning.
I think that its human nature that we look for someone or something to blame for our pain. Once we find the source of our pain, we then can channel our anger and frustration toward its center. In this case, the soldiers felt the pain of losing two fellow soldiers, and the emptiness of not being able to inflict revenge on their killers, so the unit commanders become, “the center focus”.
Having survived the invasion into
The stand down at
There were a lot of tribute bands that played little venues scattered around the camp. The best one I saw was a Beatles tribute band. The band was Vietnamese and they sounded just like the Beatles. The most popular bands were the female bands. The officers always made their presences known when the ladies performed.
big parties happened in the late night hours. GI’s gathered in the middle of
the camp forming giant bong circles some with bonfires in the middle to signify
the connection of the circle. Bongs were water pipes made from all sorts of
things, beer cans, bamboo, anything that could hold water. Actually, the Bong
was a cheap water pipe invented in
The circles often had a hundred or more GI’s passing their bongs or pipes around. I remember sitting in one of these circles with a bonfire fit for a Celtic king for hours and never saw the same bong or pipe pass by, this includes my own. Guys would sit there listening to Rock’n Roll and talk about home, their dreams, about everything. It was a time to forget the war and relax. It never got out of control that is until the MP’s came to break up the party. I never saw anyone arrested. I think if they had, a riot would have broken out. I know the parties where alcohol was used often became violent. Fights would break out and someone would be shot or killed.
were typically three kinds of parties, White parties, Black parties and Hippie
parties. The Hippie parties had every ethnic group covered, everyone got along
very well. I think this is one reason marijuana was used so heavily in
A Friend from Back Home
our stand-down, after
Jeff was drafted a few months after me and had been in country for a few months. He was assigned to a company that helped the locals with their rice productivity. He said he was more like a gofer, he would drive the officers around and do minor jobs for his unit. I asked him how he got the job and he said, they asked him what kind of job he had before he was drafted. He told them that he worked for a rancher who grew rice, so they assigned him to this company.
was a spec4 and had his own jeep and hootch, which comes with a mama-san
housekeeper. I thought he had it made, the perfect job in
jumped in his jeep and drove to his hootch, which was cool. He had electricity
and all the comforts of home. I couldn’t believe he wanted to transfer. I would
have traded places with him in a second. I hung out with him as often as I
could. He knew all the hot spots in
my next stand-down, I found out that Jeff had transferred to a line company. I
think it was Bravo Company. I never saw him again while I was in
1. The next missions are hard for me to remember, I have fragmented images as I hover above a hot LZ with hueys and cobras firing their rockets and miniguns below me. I hover like a buzzard waiting for the kill. I see images of tall elephant grass ten or fifteen feet below. I see a hot LZ and hear the door gunner yelling, “jump, jump” and me yelling back “lower, lower,” “too high, too high.” I have images of jumping off the huey firing into the jungle. Running into the darkness of the tree line wondering what monster might be waiting there. I follow a small trail into the thickness stopping at a narrow stream flowing below a jagged cliff of faded gray. I sit my gun down and walk a short distance when the sound of gunfire and metal ricocheting off granite forces me to fire my pistol into the darkness above the cliff. Others fire into the darkness as I roll over to my gun and fire a burst into the emptiness, no need to make chase, the sniper is gone. We back off, return on the trail a few hundred yards, and take five, I began to write a letter to mother. A crack, a yell, “man down.” The FO, (forward observer) hit in the back of the head and rolls down an embankment. He is unconscious but alive. The bullet parts his scalp to the bone. The medic wraps his wound and we move to a spot for a dust-off at sunrise…
2. Walking single file along a jungle trail, I remember wondering what it must be like to walk point, to hear the subtle sounds, and smell the wafting odors of jungle, not knowing what’s beyond the next turn… a wired bomb, hanging shoulder high, high enough to take off your head… A mine buried beneath jungle decay, one fail step removes your legs… An ambush of cracking AK 47’s from beyond the darkness… A face-to-face surprise meeting of your enemy, as you push back the jungle, “who will be first to draw?”… The point man meets the enemy face to face as he fires a burst from his M-15, low to high, killing one and wounding another, the wounded runs until he bleeds to death. A rucksack full of money and documents covered in blood, sent to the rear… to be cleaned!
3. Another day out of sequence in a mosaic portrait of Vietnam, painted with hazy images of abandoned bunkers and rows of hootches with no enemy insight. The lieutenant, the point man and I leave the platoon at ease and move from bunker to hootch searching for signs of life. From one to another we move in stealth across the humus floor of jungle decay. Empty cans of mackerel and rice kernels litter the early morning shadows. I listen to a quiet stillness echo from empty bunkers and imagine the laughter and cries that filled their darkness. I imagine men huddled in their protective cocoons made of sandbags and crumbling logs, fortifications to withstand an aerial assault as they think of family and friends at home. I think of me in their world and see no difference, and yet I know things are not the same no matter how much I want them to be. We find a trail along the perimeter of the abandoned camp and move along its winding mark, moving toward the rear of our platoon, unknowingly! Ten or fifteen edgy soldiers huddled down on a trail with orders to shoot and kill, and the lieutenant, the point man and I are moving toward their rear. I hear the clicked engagement of bullet to barrel and feel the death I never knew. Staring down the barrel of an M-60 locked, loaded, and filling the sights of twelve M-16’s and two M-79 grenade launchers and I walk away unscathed…
4. I have more images of incomplete stories, no beginnings or ends, just images as I jump from the huey’s open door onto a hot LZ and run ten feet or more, falling on dry elephant grass, firing into the distance creating cover as more hueys return with soldiers who will jump until their last. The tall elephant grass goes up in a blaze from rocket fire, which we must now evade. We run for higher ground and wait for the blaze to still, then walk single file through the burned out ash into the hills. In the morning hours a chopping sound is heard, a four-man patrol heads out to observe. They returned with weapons and personal items they retrieve from four dead VC they killed with ease. A wallet with pictures of family and friends, a bullet hole through its middle with blood stains within, the contents dispersed amongst the men, and when I think about that wallet I think about the stains within.
5. When I think of Vietnam, it’s often like waking from a dream, lost and confused with faded beginnings and never-ending ends. I see images of a forced evacuation for reasons unknown, and the calling of choppers to our landing zone. We’re told the hueys are too far away, the only chopper available is a Loach, and it’s on its way. The Loach is small, capacity of six, it’ll take a few trips so the evacuation will not be quick. We huddle down in the tall green grass as the Loach hovers above the verdant mat. I watch and listen as the chopper moans, the rotor wobbles and bends from the excessive load, just as the person next to me stands in its path, he didn’t know. I watched in slow motion from the tall grassy shade, watching his head fly, fly away. I was hesitant to go, but I ran to his side, he was laying on his back and still alive. His helmet saved him from the arrant blade. I found it dented and scarred lying in its would be grave. I saw death and he saw stars…
New Platoon Leader
during July, we got a new platoon leader whose name I cannot recall. He had
graduated from a military school and thought he was John Wayne, he turned out
to be indecisive and never earned the respect of the platoon. Lieutenant Norton
rotated back to the divisional base camp, and I never saw him again in
time for R&R arrived a few weeks after the new platoon leader took over the
platoon. The popular R&R destinations in
We were out humping in the jungle the day before I was scheduled to fly out for my R&R, when I noticed fresh footprints all over the trail. I informed the Lieutenant, but he figured the footprints were not that fresh. This was not what I wanted to hear, I was short and didn’t need that. I had heard stories about guys being killed on their last day in country, how ironic would that be, I didn’t want to take a chance. We followed the trail all day and the footprints were still as fresh as ever. Just before nightfall we set-up camp right there on the trail. I really felt uncomfortable with this, it was like sleeping in the middle of a freeway and I didn’t want to get stepped on!
That night I handed over my M-60 with about 600 rounds of ammo to one of the FNGs, (his first mission) and he gave me his M-16 and a couple of bandoleers of clips. I felt very vulnerable with the M-16. It felt like a toy after carrying that M-60 for so many months. The next morning when I woke up I found a large tick stuck in my chest. I asked the medic to take it out and he tried using a cigarette to irritate the tick, but that didn’t work. Next, he just pulled on it and the body broke away leaving the head of the trick stuck in my chest. I grabbed it with my fingers and pulled the head out leaving a big hole in my chest. Ticks, leeches and mosquitoes sucked! But I was too excited about going on R&R to worry about those blood suckers, Hey, two weeks out of the jungle. The only thing better than that was going back to the world.
The Lieutenant came over and asked me to walk out on the left flank about twenty feet, I had never seen anyone walk flank in the jungle, but he was the man and I wanted to get on that bird, so I saddled up and walked out about twenty feet when I heard…
6. Crack! Crack! A sudden burst of sound and light from the thickness screams by my head, hitting a tree and sending bark across my face. I return fire into the thickness at my front and hear a burst of death, tap! tap!, from friendly fire on my right, while the crack! crack!, continues from the thickness at my front. Others fire into the thickness as the Lieutenant pulls the pin of a grenade, tossing it into the thickness. It hits a tree, bouncing back, exploding into a soldier’s neck. I hear a large explosion and cries of “I’m hit! I’m hit!” I try to move to my right, and the tap! tap! of death is heard, and I fall back into the jungle decay and wait. The medic frozen in fear cannot move, a solder near, moves forward, removing his scarf, saving the blood from the wounded neck. I crawl slowly back through the jungle decay as the FNG sits with gun and cries, “I didn’t know you were there”, he did not see, for fear is blind, and it’s okay, this time.
The Lieutenant asked me to explore the thickness of the ambush source, I said, “You’re crazy, I’m too short.” We called for a dust-off and they dropped a line. They pull the wounded up through the trees and we headed off to my LZ.
cut an LZ in a small clearing that afternoon, and I flew back to the firebase
on a “beautiful Loach OH-6 helicopter.” It was the same kind of helicopter that
almost took my buddies head off, only this time it was taking me off, off the
battle field for two weeks. I flew on a
C-130 Hercules Airplane from
clothes consisted of two pairs of pants, a couple of shirts and some underwear
and socks that I bought in
took a cab to the Bondi area to check in to my hotel. The cab drove on the left side of the road,
which really freaked me out. I think the cabby knew it because he was going
pretty fast and weaving in and out of cars like a maniac. We finally arrived at my hotel, it was just
off the beach and it had a quaint Victorian look. The area around the hotel was
mostly residential and quiet. The Bondi
area is famous for its beach. I only walked down to the beach a couple of
times, the waves were huge and it was very cold. I walked around the Bondi area
on my first day there to get a feel for the area. I bought some Fish and Chips
from a street vendor. The Fish and Chips were wrapped in a newspaper and they
tasted very good. I also saw my first
second night I went to Kings Cross. I called a cab from my hotel and told him
where I wanted to go. I remember driving for what seemed like an hour on the
wrong side of the road. Driving through what looked like
Cross was where the action was in Sydney, nightclubs and bars were everywhere.
Places with names like Whisky a GOGO,
first night I met a young lady and her two friends. We danced and talked about
next day I called a taxi to take me to
That night I felt a little dizzy and nauseated in my hotel room. I started to perspire quite heavily and could barely stand-up. I realized that something was not right, and I called the front desk. I told the desk clerk that I was not feeling well, and that I wanted to go to the emergency room, and could he please call a cab. This nice old guy came up and helped me down to the cab. He told the cab driver to take me to the emergency room quickly. On my way there, in the back seat of the cab I became very disorientated,
I stepped from the cab into an abyss of conscious uncertainty, where lights swirled in a vortex of muffled voices, and faces contorted into fragments of dark and light. I moved between two worlds, juxtaposed within a mysterious matrix that pulled and pushed my sanity, like waves lapping upon a fragile beach stretched into oblivion.
A few days later, I remember waking up to the sound of voices, voices giggling and talking about my tan. When I opened my eyes, I saw three of the cutest student nurses I had ever seen. They were giving me a cool sponge bath. My first words were, “I must be in heaven!” The nursing students laughed and told me that I had been sleeping for two days, and that my body temperature was as high as 106 degrees. One of the doctors came around and said they were going to move me into an isolation room, because they had originally thought that I had malaria, and now, because I hadn’t responded to treatment, they would call in a jungle disease specialist, Dr. Campbell.
I was removed from the ward and taken to an
isolation room that same day. Sometime that day Dr. Campbell came in and asked
me if I had noticed any unusual bites or rashes on my skin. I told him that I
had removed a tick from my chest about two weeks earlier, just as I was leaving
the jungle. He asked to see the spot and I showed him. He had some blood work
done and within the hour, I was put on a regime of tetracycline. The diagnosis
was Scrub Typhus, an acute infectious disease common in
Dr. Campbell came by one day and asked if he could take a picture of the bite on my chest. He wanted to use it for future publications. I said that it was okay. I thanked him and told him that I was feeling better. He said that I would stay in the hospital for another week or so, and then I would be discharged.
The girl I had met at Kings Cross and her two friends came to visit me a couple of times. She said that the hotel manager told her what had happened, and that she wanted to see if I needed anything. I told her that I was doing better now, and that I would be out of the hospital in about a week.
hospital staff was very friendly to me, especially the nurses. One afternoon,
about a week after my hospital admit, a nurse came into my room and said that I
had a phone call from the USA. The call was from my mother. The army had called
her, and told her that I was in the hospital in
army gave me a few extra days after my release from the hospital, so I
continued my R&R. I returned to my hotel at
the end, I stayed in
about two weeks back with the platoon, I was called back to
Choices made from Choices made
I met all the guys in the 4.2 mortar platoon while on the firebase. They taught me how to load the C-4 plastic on the mortar rounds. It was interesting and fun, especially yelling, “Fire in the Hole” and dropping the round down the tube. That was a rush!
met another guy whose job it was to hook and unhook the sling load from
helicopters as they came in or flew out of the firebase. He showed me how to
unhook a load without getting shocked, if done wrong you got hit big time,
“sounds analogous to my tour in country!” He had a comfortable job for firebase
standards. He and I would party in his bunker, sometimes with 5 or 10 guys. We
would drink and smoke and listen to music or just tell stories about home or
stories about the bush. I liked him a
lot, because we had so much in common.
He didn’t let life live him, he lived life. He had a sensitivity about
himself that I liked. He did take life seriously, that’s why he seemed to
always enjoy every second of his life. Then one day my time on the firebase
ended, I was sent to Charlie Company.
Charlie Company was out in the jungle when I joined them. I was assigned
to a platoon - and became a line grunt the rest of my short time in
Distant memories blur the horizon like smoke across battlefields
Where figures move in a surreal flight of spiritual metamorphous
Like butterflies into the darkness of night
Where the sound of jungle wraps around your thoughts
Until the crackling whip of fear pierces your being
With projectiles of uncertainty
And you know those ghostly places and faces of jungle
Will forever cast shadows across your path
Shadows that will merge into the shade
Of your late afternoon
© 2006 Jim Cain