"Rememberance"

Looking back over the years, I can say, Vietnam was a strange land indeed for me to be in, especially when so young in life was I, and to be away from my family and friends. During the day it was extremely hot, and in the mountains at night, it got very cold. Yes, there I was in Vietnam, in combat, getting a tax break from Uncle Sam. Tax break my foot! We didn'y make much money then so how could they say it was a tax break. After a month or so you might say we looked like seasoned vets, but were we really. We may have looked seasoned, hard and cold. We matured fast at an early age, and it was probably too quickly for us to absorb. It was shock! Where have those years now gone? We had become changed forever inside and outside. At first it was surprising how scared I was. Was this the way in becoming a warrior? Everyone gained an appreciation for what each other did and stood for. I saw this in many of the others. Was I becoming more or less humane? It is hard to explain to someone apart from the scene of reality. Where was I then - apart of it??

In the mountains we came across many different kinds and types of cultures and people that wandered from one place to another. Many of these people were Nomads, and others moved when their elders dictated. These were the so called "savages" known better as the "mountagnards". They were not an unfriendly type of people after you got to know them, in fact I was given a bracelet to ward off the evil spirits and dangers. Ask someone about the head of the table and the chicken head? I guess the part about the bracelet might have been true. I came back with only minor bruises and scars from the war. These people, in the mountains, had their own languages and customs, which varied between the tribes. Can you believe that tribes 10 miles apart could not understand each other? Well it is true.

Our trips through the mountains and jungles of Vietnam were many. When walking in the mountain streams, valleys, and jungle we had to constantly check each other for those slimy leeches that clung to you without your knowing it, and other strange crawling looking creatures. They were ugly. I can still see them today yet. I got bit once by something, a spider, or one of those other creatures, I know not what. It was on my neck and have scars there today yet. It got infected, and the doc put his knife to it after it ripened, and cut it open, and took about a pint of green stuff from my neck. I wore a bandage a few days, and then it was back to the usual grind. We used to back those leeches out of wounds or where ever they latched onto you with cigarettes or matches and the blood would run like a river, down your leg, back, arm or wherever they latched onto. They used to find a hole in your pants or trousers or shirt all the time. Their flies used us for target practice, to make their diving runs, and nuke us with their bites. When they bit, you felt it. Everywhere there were enemy, even the creatures. They left a welt. The mosquitoes would come in swarms, and they were everywhere. Many times we have sat and watched the KC135s come in and spray their DDT, now known as "Agent Orange". I often thought there goes my brother with one of his missions. He did not know what he was carrying up there. All they knew was that they were clearing the jungle of its vegetation so that we could see better. I thought that it might have helped reduce the numbers of flies and mosquitoes. We did not know any better at that time, especially at so young an age. Back in the rear areas they sprayed that awful stuff also using jeeps or 3/4s. Vietnam and the jungle was dangerous at night. This was when Charlie became restless. This was his time, most of the time. When staying on one of the LZs, our barber got zapped one night and we found out later that he was a company commander of one of the local VC groups.

Many have asked about the rain. Well, when it rained, it rained, and you wondered, if ever, was it ever going to stop. You got soaking wet through and through, down to the bone the way it felt. This was called their monsoon season. Each day in the mountains, it would start out the same, cold, damp and wet, and some times it was foggy. In the mornings, you would break off a chunk of C4 and heat a good cup of java mix. It helped get the chill off of you and your bones. When it rained you seemed to you were always wet, through and through, to the bone, and when it got hot you were hot and thirsty, but you had to conserve what little you had, even though your friend would ask for a sip. I had a side kick that always needed some water. There were others that were constantly out of that precious water. Sometimes while walking through the streams you would fill up your canteen. Then with the water tablets. You also could actually see the steam come off of yourself in the daylight. It got so hot that you could see the steam rising off of yourself.

What action? My hearing can tell you about that. When the action began, it was mostly toward evening hours when it was getting dark, or after it was dark. Small arms fire, mortars, tracers flying in all directions, calling in our own support, watching and feeling the explosions underfoot as the ground used to tremble. Seeing the gunships coming in was sight for sore eyes. The next morning at when it started to become light, it looked a mess for your eyes, where-ever you looked, everything was in shambles. You could feel the Noise at night, Yes, feel it. Why do you say, you can not feel noise. Well I have to dispute that fact. You can. This or one of these episodes like it, I had lost my hearing in my left ear, and have constant ringing in both ears ever since. Did you say - that was how many years ago, and now after wearing the hearing aids in both ears. It seemed we moved from one location, to another all the time, never staying in one place too long. One time we set up in the middle of a cemetery and it was quite all night. They did not like spirits, I guess. You had to remind yourself at night that the morning light would come very soon, but when was always the question, you did not know. You waited and waited and watched the stars and moon as they went by overhead through the trees or out in the open. It seemed like it got darker closer to the morning hours. Why, I don't know, but it seemed that way. It wasn't light until it was light out, so you had to wait it out until it came. At night everything seemed to move, the bushes, the trees, everything. On one or more occasion the 105s were brought down to point blank range to take on the VC. The NVA tried to take our hill, but it proved difficult for them, and they did not succeed in their endeavors. I can still see one today yet getting a direct hit with a 105, and the other one stayed in front of me all night, on his knees it seemed, all night, in my sight. That was the usual North Vietnamese Sapper squad, legs and arms tied off, doped up, satchel charges tied to their bodies, and automatic AK47s or Chicoms, you name it. One night they used their own comrades as shields and placed them over the razor sharp perimeter wire. Can you imagine using one of your wounded comrades, throwing him over that wire so that you could transport yourself to the other side. Does anyone remember the smell of those good ripe Mango Plantations? Wasn't that a good smell! You could smell those forever, Right! Man, what a smell! If I get close to something like that it still reminds me!

Convoying the roads was another dangerous treck. At another time while convoying to through the Rubber Plantation, and down to Ben Cat area, where the Big Red One was stationed, we had lost 4 vehicles. The engineers mine swept it, just before we passed through on on the raod, and we had these terrible accidents. The person that was in charge of sweeping the road doen't live too far from me now. One day we got to talking about that road. Yes, it was true. They could not keep it clean from booby-traps or mines. They booby-trapped the road daily. This is also when I first knew that everything was game over here in this far off land. (Not small game!)We then flew up to the border of Laos, to a place called Chio Rio. From here I escorted 12 comrades to the Siagon mortuary. You could smell that it was a morgue, and you could see the endless stacks of aluminum caskets stacked up. G4 was right down the street or alley there. I thought to myself, what were we doing over here in this strange far off land. I would ask myself this over and over again, and came to the same conclusion that it was nothing but a body count war. We are the Policemen of the world. Dak To was a terrible place, we had a body count of 864 there. We went to the Nui Loc Son Basin between Da nang and Chu Lai. BG Pearson was the 1st Bde Commander at the time. It must be remembered casualties that are incurred under direct combat circumstances reflected neither credit or discredit upon anyone. They are the cold hard facts of life. 95 percent of my time was spent in a free fire zone. The 2d tour, me and four others spent most of our time on intermediate liasion, between the different LZs. Resupply was done by chopper about every 5 days or longer. That is where I got a taste for Salems that came with the Sundry packets.