Hey
guys,
I've mentioned this to a couple of you before, but it's worth another mention
to satisfy curiosity. What sounds or smells in particular remind you of your
time in
A helicopter overhead still gives me the creeps, even though all the choppers
were ours! And there's a damned air raid siren in the middle of my town which
goes off at noon - three days ago I made the mistake of coming out of the
library right near by just at 12 noon, off went that damn siren. I was at
The smell of diesel fuel reminds me, and most especially the chemical that used
to be in OFF! insect repellant until (apparently) the
formula got changed. Same chemical we had in bug juice, reminded me strongly of
nights on watch every time I smelled it. For that matter, peaceful nights with
few lights cause me to scan around without thinking, guess I'm looking for
somebody trying to creep up on my position. We all had those kinda nights back then!
As to tunes: In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida was like a
"theme song" (thanks 1st Platoon!), Joe Cocker's cover of "With
a Little Help From My Friends" was something I played often in base camp,
and when I got back to the World "Spirit in the Sky" was playing.
Just a few of my fav old tunes!
How about for you guys?
Frank ~
Choppers sound good to me...real good. So does a chainsaw....all that's missing
is the solid ribbon of red tracers coming from the sky.
The Doors...Jimi Hendrix...Cream....The Beatles White
Album....to name some of my favorites. We don't listen to them much at all
anymore though ): But I have VERY fond memories.
Smells...of course, diesel fumes. I like that. Seedy truck stop restrooms with
the smell of raw diesel fuel tracked in strike up less pleasant olfactory
recall however. Wet leaves and damp loam bring the smells of
laying on ambush back....as does a rain in the summer woods.
Let us not forget smokeless powder (?cordite?)...that
smell...the sound of choppers....with a cut from the Fresh Cream album playing
in the back ground...............
This has me thinking more about this than I have in years. How about hot motor
oil...remember dumping it on our M60s to cool the barrel? 50 cals too. I remember it getting so hot it just
flashed. Not good. Then you REALLY stood out, and by then, the barrel was shot
out anyway.
Any damp, musty smelling clothing or bedding. Seems
like nothing dried out for months! Smells....hmmm....burnt
toast. Not everyone would know that one though (: Damn but it's been a looooong time.
I live in the Midwest (black dirt) so when we visit the south with areas of red
soil I always think of the raw red firebases ripped from the top of a hill.
How about food. Fruit cocktail?
Round salad crackers? Cheap peanut butter? BLACKBERRY JAM? Canned baby lima beans?
And don't forget the paper towels in a bundle setting on the sink in that truck
stop restroom I mentioned...remember the smaller version with 3 or 4 sheets?
You'll need them after you eat.
Amen to all the sounds and smells you guys listed.
I agree with what you guys are saying and MAN are there similarities. I understand when you say all else
pales...it does. I don't know about that post
Damn, for somebody who says they don't know or
care, you sure said a mouthful. You are 100% correct when you say we got a
taste of it all. I went to
I was a sergeant by now and we were in LZ Sharon one
night for just an over-nighter. We all got cocked and
decided to borrow a jeep to get back to our location on the perimeter. We get
caught and they lock a bunch of us up. They get a hold of old man Robinson,
he's at the Officers Club and really hammered, and he comes down to get us out.
The officer of the day was a Capt. Luce. The old man always wore Cavalry crests
on his collar and in the dark this Capt Luce thinks the old man is a Major.
Robinson keeps calling this guy Capt Louse and is jumping all over this guy's
rear end. Robinson says that he ain't about to leave
in the morning without us because we are all good men and he needed us. He
finally bs's us out of jail
and promises this Luce that he will bust me because I was the ranking guy in
the jeep we borrowed. We get back from the mission about a week later and the
old man calls me in and tells me I'm too good a soldier to be sent back to the
states less than a sergeant so he never did anything to me, except I think he
got me a beer that night.
One day we were set up as a blocking force for some
unit that was doing a sweep. We were to stay in this one position all day long.
I got bored and made a bolo out of a pair of socks, some dirt, and a length of
cord I had around. The area was flat and there were no targets to practice
throwing this bolo at except the antenna on the tank so I used it as a target.
I got pretty good at hitting the antenna over the course of the day. Late in
the afternoon a Vietnamese kid comes by us driving a couple of water buffalo
with a stick. I think the buffalo is a perfect target for my new bolo so I grab
it up and start running towards the buffalo swinging this bolo and taking
careful aim at one of them. When I release the bolo it comes out of my hand
before I intend it to. Had I been aiming at the kid I couldn't have made a
better shot. The bolo opened up and the string hit him
in the chest. The two socks full of dirt wrapped around him a couple of time
and both hit him in the chest. The kid went down like a load of bricks. Boy I
felt bad that day. The kidwasn't hurt badly and was
happy to be bought off with C-rations. Probably joined the
Vietcong the next day.
I think "Bastards of the DMZ" fits the
description of the troop very accurately. When we got a stand down day a lot of
the time we didn't even get to got to our base camp. We had the pleasure of
going to someone else's and got to watch them eat hot chow and shower while we
ate C-rats and stunk. The one thing I thought they did a pretty good job on was
keeping us in beer and ice. On A17
I remember the first time we sat up with straight leg infantry (1/11?). It was
late afternoon and we had just finished our C-ration dinner and we had some
odds and ends of stuff that none on A17 would eat (even the gooks would throw
some of that stuff back at you), so I threw it off the side of the tank. These
grunts looked at that stuff and then at me and ask "you throwing that
away? Mind if we have it?" I felt bad for them...2 beers 1 little piece of
ice, starving to death. I let them have the garbage and swapped ice-cold beer
out of our cooler for their hot beer. We struck up a conversation and I told the I was sure glad I had my job VS theirs. To my surprise
one of these guys says he wouldn't trade jobs with me on a bet. So now I'm
thinking this guy has sunstroke for sure or he's so malnourished it's affecting
thought process. I had to ask him why he wouldn't trade flat footing for riding
with cold beer and more C-rats than he could eat. He said when the shooting
starts my ass will be below ground and you guys will be a very big target with
no place to go. Guess it depends on your perspective.
I just had a question about an incident that
has haunted me since I returned. This has nothing to do with Smith. I witnessed
a terrible incident when I was in country not long and it has been with me ever
since. I think it was out behind Nancy or Sharon, not really sure. I was riding
a PC and kinda riding shotgun on the side deck, right
behind the drivers hatch. Mostly to hang on to
the TC cupola. Or maybe the wind was blowing the exhaust smoke further
back and gassing me? We followed a river and then left it and crossed this big
field, kinda roly-poly. As we entered the field I
noticed a couple of Viet civilians. Man in his 40's and young girl possibly in
her teens or maybe younger. I could never tell the age of those people. Any
way's they were walking toward our column which was following an old tank
trail, traveling at about 15 maybe 20 MPH. As the PC I occupied approached them
(the civilians) it had caught up a roll of concertina wire, somehow that wire
was already rolled out on the ground or maybe it had fallen from the PC, I
don't know. But it ended up extended out a hundred feet or so, as long as a
roll of concertina was ? I don't remember. IT had
become entangled in the rear sprocket or one of the idler wheels on the side
opposite me and the driver. It turned at the same RPM as the wheel it was
attached to, and was whipping the ground to our right rear. Just about the time
I had noticed it sticking out rolling along and flailing the ground as it
bounced 2 or 3 feet above the ground. It was picking up grass and sticks and
spinning them into the air. The whole thing was surreal to me at the time, you
know how you see something happening and you can't do anything about it, and
you know the results are going to be catastrophic? My head turned forward to
gauge how far away the ole man and little girl were away, and to see if they
might escape the impending danger. I saw the ole man yell something to the
girl, and then I saw him jump over the jagged razor wire leaving the girl to
fend for herself. The poor child was immediately
caught by the flailing wire and wrapped in a tight cocoon of sharpened steel.
Kind of like those Mexican finger trap things. This
whole thing happened in a matter of seconds, and I sat, either on my butt or
was stooping-squatting on the deck or near the TC cupola, behind the driver. I
reacted as fast as I could, without thinking almost; I extended my right leg
and kicked the driver square in the back of his head. That was the first thing
that came to my mind. I really didn't have any time to do anything else. Well. as you can expect the driver, threw out the anchor and we
just about did an endo by the time we stopped. You
remember how the suspension was on those PC's when you stood on the brakes. As
the vehicle rocking back forward following the initial stop I was practically
running off the plywood cow-catcher or shield located on the slopped front of
the of the old PC's. I made tracks over to the place where the girl lies in her
cocoon bleeding profusely. I tell you, It made me
sick! I thought she might be dead meat, but I think she survived! At least as
long as she lay there, waiting for us to cut her out. An
other vehicle must have witnessed the whole incident transpire, maybe
several others. I remember others ran up with their wire cutters as she wailed
and began cutting her out. I still remember that I had thought it was really
quite a fast response from the guys who had to locate their wire cutters
rolling around in the bottom of their vehicles and beat feet over to the scene
of the accident. But it seemed to take a long time to cut her out. As soon as
my driver had been able to free himself from his CBC helmet and secure the
vehicle he came looking for me, with blood in his eye. I found myself trying to
explain my kicking him in the head with vigor and haste. I remember he
still hadn't grasped what had happened, as he ran up to me. I really thought I
was going to get my ass kicked, but he finally understood my dilemma and spared
me. I remember the ole man came up and was greatly concerned for the girl I
assumed at the time, was his daughter or granddaughter. It seemed like forever
till the dust-off arrived, and when it did they had to take the ole man too (I
think). Maybe she was so young she couldn't communicate with the medical people
or that was their concern. Anyway, I think they did take him on the same Huey.
I never saw either again. I have always wondered how that turned out. I can see
the whole experience in my minds eye even today. I remember being really angry
at the ole man for jumping and leaving her. But in retrospect maybe that's all
he could do. And I think they would have both been better off if they had laid down and put their faces in the dirt? Who Knows? Like
that picture of the little Viet teenage girl shone on the cover of Life
magazine, Naked, screaming, burning with napalm. How could anyone forget?
I believe we all did our best, but I always
wondered if maybe I could have had a better sense of what was about to happen,
and done more to avoid it. I think the driver was Jim Mann. Or
someone with about his general build. I have no idea
who the others were, guess might be, SS maybe PR? I just don't remember.
Do you have any recollection of this incident and who the missing
faces might be? I would be interesting to find out who they were and also about
how they remember that day? Sorry to burden you with the gory details, thought
you might remember? Anyway that's all for today. That's enough, right! Wild Bill Dodds `Peace
Bro.'
Bill, That is one awful incident to have
witnessed. Nothing else the old guy could have done but yell and jump. Give him
the benefit. Nothing better for you to do but make the driver stop, however you
could. You did. Give yourself the benefit. I have no further info, wasn't
there, never heard of it. Keep in mind, though, however sorry that incident was,
you did what you could. Violent times, bad things went down. That's the nature
of life-and-death struggles involving a lot of force. The thing is, you were
there, you dealt with it as best you could, better than an SOB who didn't give
a shit and just thought, "Oh, lookit that, poor
gook kid caught in the wire." Better for her that you were there and not
somebody who had no heart and didn't give a damn. Don't put too much weight on
that pic of the little naked girl on the magazine
cover. There was a story behind that photo op, too bad I don't remember it
anymore, could be researched, but the situation was not what it supposedly
depicted. Ditto that photo of the vietnamese officer
blowing the brains out of a VC. There's a story there. You never know when what
you see in the press is propaganda of some sort or another. But you have a pic in your brain, and you know how you personally reacted,
and nobody but you, Bill, can pass judgment on your actions. Looks clean to me
- if that young lady still walks the earth, and she knew the whole story, she
might even thank you. Think of it - you were called upon to do something or not
- was it not good that it was you who had the responsibility? LTF
LTee,
Great note. I know exactly how you feel. As an NCO my biggest fear was to have
someone under my command get hurt or killed. I spent many a sleepless night
wondering if I was a good enough leader to keep my people safe and out of harms
way. I was very lucky to have been assigned to a unit that was very well
trained and had some of the brightest and best leaders a soldier could ask for.
Ken Dye trained us all well and we operated as a fine tuned machine. About a
year ago I called Don Barnes and the first thing he said to me was Thank
you for training him so well as he felt that is what kept him alive in Nam even
after I left. Now that is the ultimate compliment any soldier could ever give
to another soldier. I told Don it wasn't me that should get the credit as he
was smart enough to listen and learn and that is what saved his life, not
me. Rag
I can honestly say that back in 1968 Vietnam was not
a very important part of my life, I feel that the two above commo
net messages reflect the feelings of many of the Troopers who were responsible
for the safety and welfare of other Troopers; at times you had to be a real
pain in the ass, at times you had to face your limitations, and at times you
had to know when to look the other direction. Now, 30+ years later I think this
also plays a part with these very same Troopers attending or not attending the
Reunions; living down or living up to your past.
The reunions have been, and will continue to
be events that I truly look forward to so that I can be with a group of true
American Heros that mean so much to me. I was deeply honored,personally, when my wife and daughters attended the
last one in DC. Up to that point they knew very little about what we did over
there. They simply knew that it had an enormous effect on my life. Talking to
other Troopers and their families, helped them understand why and how some
relatively normal everyday things and events have the effect on me that
they do.. Guess they feel the ole man isn't as weird as they thought !
EARL 40 Any trooper reading this who has not been able to attend our reunions
should really give serious consideration to doing so. Not so much for the war
stories but for the opportunity to be with the guys who been there, did that,
the same as they did. The experience is priceless ! I know from personal
experience that family members who attend, that they feel the same way. Wally,
the rain will end soon, but the memories will not. EARL 40
"For my own part, I had been a volunteer,
enlisting the day after high school graduation, and then a couple of years
later going to West Point on an enlisted man's competitive appointment. So, I
never really felt griped about being in the 'Nam. (Felt as
though I had taken the King's coin and elected to wear His uniform, so it
would be hypocritical of me to bitch about doing His bidding, you know?)
However, one of my strongest reactions to VN was an abiding anger at a Congress
and a country that would not let the boys from Yale or Princeton or similar
such stations have the same "opportunities" as the boys from
Appalachian coalfields, Harlem, blue collar families (such as my own
background). I never figured out if I made a horse's rear end of myself as a
platoon leader or a company commander...I always tried to do honorable justice
to meeting the needs of the military organization and its mission, but with an
overriding sense of not wanting to put my fellow troopers in harm's way for
what seemed like an obviously unsupported and restrictively prosecuted war
effort. (Maybe I didn't serve either very well that way, but what was it
Cronkite used to say?..."And that's the way it is, folks" ??) "
Thanks, Hank [Henry, "Hank" Gregor, was a platoon leader in the 1st platoon, 1969-1970]
Rag you mean there were non-dopers? As I recall everyone either drank or smoked or both. On Barrows tank only 3 of us drank beer and we drank about 4 cases a day...couldn't handle the Fresca or the "potable" water. And they say firearms and alcohol don't mix. Seems to me I saw you with a beer in your hand more often than not. Malan
That must have been my evil twin. I was always a juice freak as they used to say and still like my beer today. There was no pot on A15. We all drank and most of us smoked, but no dope. Lou Dossey, God rest his soul, and Ray Peterson were the two big potheads that I remember. After most of the advanced party guys left I ended up TC on A14 and of course still pulled a lot of ambushes at night. The lucky thing was that I usually got to pick whom I wanted to go out with me and I had some favorites. Kid was always with me cause he could tote an M60 like it was a bb gun. Mike was, and still is, a good man. He was a quick learner and he never questioned any decision I made. Sniper Tom was another of my favorites. He was with us on A15 and knew his shit. Besides if something happened to me I knew Tom could get the guys out alive. I was trained by the best, Ken Dye, and I wanted guys as good as the old A15 group with me. I was getting short then and I always figured if I was going to get killed I should have done it when I first got there, not at the end of my tour. Rag
I think about the Cav every time I see the movie Platoon...hit base camp and the juice freaks went one way and the heads went the other. I think everyone had their own way of dealing with the stress...some smoked...some drank...and some shot themselves to get out of the field or went "crazy" and were sent back to base camp for duty. Took some balls to face the shit we did everyday. Jerry
I guess you're right. Everyone handles stress differently. It sure was crazy. When you first get there you don't know anything and your scared shitless. After your there for a while you keep hoping your luck doesn't run out and things become a routine. Then you finally make it to a Two Diggit Midget and your scared shitless again because you know too much and you know your number could be up at anytime. Didn't do much drinking in the field, as I wanted to be ready if the shit hit the fan, not to mention we didn't get many supplies in the field anyway, but I made up for it when we hit base camp. Rag