Proud Vet

Obama is preying on the total ignorance of the youth voters,

They follow Obama all glassy eyed and swooning like he is the savior. The young voters he is appealing to weren’t even aware of the war when it began or why it began. They don’t know he is a one term senator that has spent the biggest part of his term on the Presidential campaign trail. They only know that he is articulate and can deliver a fine speech.

They don’t know he didn’t vote for the Iraq war because he was not even a United States Senator at the time.

They don’t understand he has been groomed as the “golden boy” to take this country down the path of socialism and a complete two class society. They do not understand he will be all powerful just like FDR and the middle class will completely disappear. It will be the working class and the ruling class. This has been the democrats agenda all along.

It is becoming increasingly obvious that the youth vote has been programmed to never be able to understand the socialist society.

If they continue to follow Obama they will see the Great Depression of the 30’s was a walk in the park. That’s exactly what the democrats want. This is their chance to remove the government as a republic and change the Constitution so this country will become the USSR (United States Socialist Republic) with Obama as the Premier much like Kruschev.

The youth doesn’t know what the meaning of “jack boots” is. They think it is a conservative. They are simply too ignorant to understand how the democrats can institute a government to force them to knuckle under to their demands. They don’t know what a total loss of privacy is until they look up and see the SS standing in their doorway.

It’s a sad commentary on the vast majority of today’s youth. I see it as a great argument to raise the voting age back to 21. The drinking age was tried at 18 and found they were not mature enough to handle responsible drinking. What makes anyone believe they are mature enough to handle responsible voting?

Let’s examine our choice in candidates. We have a very divided republican party right now and that can lead this country to disaster. I’m going to look at them in no particular order. I believe we, and that means each of us, are going to have to sacrifice some of our principals if we are to keep the socialists out of the White House with their continued control of Congress.

Socialism is a cancer that has been developing since the Kennedys came to power and the torch has been passed to two even more dangerous people, Bill and Hillary Clinton. It has become increasingly clear that the candidate of that couple is actually Bill Clinton. He is hoping to sweep his way into the White House by becoming “First Husband”. Who can honestly say Bill Clinton would not be in a joint Presidency with Hillary if she is elected. These two have been calculating this since Bill left office.

Mike Huckabe

This man is what we term as a “compassionate conservative”. In other words he is a social liberal on most issues other than abortion. He claims to be a fiscal conservative yet his record as governor of Arkansas tells a very different story. I find it suprising that a preacher could attempt to twist words into actual lies. He claims to have cut taxes during his term when, in fact, he actually raised taxes by twisting tax bills around.

Following is a quote from FactCheck.org concerning his “tax cuts”:

The former Arkansas governor is fond of saying – in debates, on his Web site and in that Nov. 18 Fox News interview – that he cut taxes “almost 94 times in my state.” (On his site, he rounds up to “nearly 100 times,” adding that he saved “the people of Arkansas almost $380 million.”)

That turns out to be far from the whole story. The Arkansas Department of Finance and Administration found that 90 tax cuts were enacted in legislative sessions from 1997 through 2005, while Huckabee was governor, and those cuts reduced tax revenues by $378 million. But Huckabee fails to mention the 21 tax increases that occurred under his watch and that raised revenues by substantially more. The total net tax increase under Huckabee’s tenure was an estimated $505.1 million, says the Department of Finance and Administration’s Whitney McLaughlin, adding that the figure has been adjusted for inflation.
Now let’s look at his spending record he claims to have decreased:
When we talked to Mike Stormes, the administrator of the Office of Budget for the state of Arkansas, we discovered a different story. In fact, after adjusting for inflation, we found that spending in fiscal year 1998 (the first budget for which Huckabee was responsible) was actually $10.4 billion, while spending at the end of 2006 was $15.6 billion. That’s a big increase.
He also comes out in favor of the amnesty bill and giving te dependents of illegal aliens entitlements while not being in favor of giving the dependents of our soldiers special entitlements. He claims the illegals need to be assimilated into our society when, in fact, they should be back in Mexico along with their parents.
Is Huckabee a likeable man? Of course and he is a good Christian and compassionate man but I do not believe this is the kind of man we need leading the nation.

Rudy Giuliani
His claim to fame is curtailing crime and lowering taxes while serving as mayor of New York City. Granted, crime and taxes did lower during his term but the fact he fails to remind everyone is he inherited the declines. He took office in 1994 but the crime rate actually began to decline in 1991 meaning the program was already in place when his tenure began. He merely kept it in place.
Now, he did cut taxes but not as much as he claims. Of the twenty three tax cuts he takes credit for eight of those were initiated by the state of New York, not Giuliani. Another tax cut the state legislature passed he was opposed to. He did cut taxes by $5.4 billion but that is just over half of the $9.0 billion he takes credit for. Another slight stretch of truth.
Giuliani is also pro choice which goes against all conservative values. He makes a very fancy play with the words to make it appear as though he doesn’t like abortion yet he never does anything to stop it. His record as recent as August 2007 supports this with the following statement.
Ultimate decision by woman, her conscience & her doctor. (Aug 2007)
That is pro choice no matter how you slice it.
Supports domestic partnerships, but not same-sex marriage. (Aug 2007)
This means he supports homosexuality.
Here is a very interesting tid bit about his family values. You might find it a little strange.
Annulled 14-year 1st marriage because wife was 2nd cousin. (Jan 2007)
Gun control is not his strong suit either.
Gun control reduces urban crime; no effect on hunting. (Feb 2007)
He is strong on national security and fiscally responsible. Is he a good choice? From what I’ve seen of him he isn’t the conservative we are all looking for.

Mitt Romney
Mitt is basically a clone of Giuliani except for a few slight differences. Romney has “changed his mind” on the abortion issue. Was this politically convient or was it honestly a change of heart. Personally I believe it was an honest change of heart due to his deep religious convictions.
With the mention of religious convictions I believe the fact he is a Morman will really hurt him despite people saying it won’t. Mormans simply will not play well in the “Bible Belt” and that consists of the entire southern third of this country. The differences between the Morman religion and other Christian religions is far to great to overcome in that part of the country. It’s sad but it’s a real fact of life.
On the plus side, he is fiscally strong and has a lot of experience running not only a state but a company. He and Giuliani both believe in the so called “sanctuary” cities. They would never admit it but it is a fact. He is also strong on national security.
He does believe in the seperation of powers of the different branches of government. He believes we need to get the legislators off the bench as is in evidence by the following statement.
Breach of Constitution for justices to adjust Constitution. (Mar 2007)
Truer words were never spoken. That is one of the most important issues of this election.
He is extremely family oriented and believes the best way to teach kids the true values of life is through a strong family home life. He would be a better pick than Giuliani in my opinion.

Fred Thompson
I believe Fred Thompson is the best conservative for the job. He believes in the seperation of the branches of government and the judicial branch being held in check to keep them from legislating from the bench. He has strong family values.
Fred believes in a strong nationl defense, I honestly cannot find a lot of things wrong with him and feel he is the best man for the job, I do not believe he would ever give in to the democrats. I believe he makes his positions clear and sticks with them.
He is anti abortion
He wants to appoint strict Constitutionalist judges
Scure borders
A strong military presense throughout the world
Closing the borders
Saving social security although not in it’s present form
Cutting taxes on corporations allowing them to invest more money in the job market
Revamping medicare
No gun control
His list could go on for a while but I believe in Fred Thompson and his positions.
His campaign is getting nothing but negative publicity from every media outlet in sight including FOX so he has an uphill struggle.

John McCain
McCain has an excellent record and is a war hero to boot. Unfortunately his illegal alien position is going to do him in. His age isn’t helping him either. Basically, he has no chance.

Duncan Hunter
Duncan Hunter is a fine candidate. He, Fred Thompson, and Tancredo believe in basically the same things. Hunter’s biggest drawback is he is a total John McCainunknown outside of Southern California. I have been accused of not liking Hunter but that is simply not the case. I just do not believe he is electable in any way.

Tom Tancredo
He is also a Thompson clone on issues and suffers the same fate as Hunter. I believe Tancredo is in the race right now to keep everyone focused on the illegal immigration problem as is Hunter. I don’t see him winning anything.

Ron Paul
What can be said about this one. He is a total whack job that is a liberal libertarian running under a republican ticket. The only thing he does for this country is give us a good laugh when he goes off on his rants.

Those are the Republican candidates. Our choices aren’t the best in the world but I belive Thompson is the best man for the job. Now, the problem would be is he electable. I would like to think so but the Clintons have one heck of a powerful machine and it is going to be hard to overcome.

After all the military red tape in processing and them telling us how to act we were allowed to go book our flights to our homes. I booked a flight on the old National airlines on an old 707 but then it was fairly new. While walking out of the processing center there were a lot of long hairs and girls with headbands standing along side the fence on our way to the bus. They heckled us a lot but we weren’t spit on. The movement wasn’t that strong at that time. I climbed aboard the bus for my trip to the airport. There wasn’t much going on so far as protesters so it went without incidents. I lifted my duffle bag on the baggage portion and picked up my ticket then began moving down the concourse to my flight departure waiting area. I remember walking with pride, spit shined jump boots, Combat Infantry Badge, Air Medal with silver oak leaf cluster, Presidential Unit Citation, Valorous Unit Citation, Vietnamese Campaign Medal (2 campaigns), Vienames Service Medal (two stars on it for two six month stints), National Defense Service Medal, Jump Wings with the 1st of the 12th Cav background, 101st Unit Patch on the top of my left sleeve, one glorious 1st Cavalry Division Combat Patch with the last of the Airborne tabs worn over the top of it, Garrison cap with the glider patch, Sergeant stripes on my sleeve, and last but now least, two gold two inch stripes running perpendicular to my sleeve to signify two six month tours in combat. I was beaming with pride. I had faced the worst the enemy could throw at me and walked away the winner every time.

Believe it or not there were an awful lot of people that stopped me and greeted me, shook my hand, told me we were doing a fine job and told me they were glad I made it home. That honestly brought a tear to my eye. There were a few long hairs that made nasty remarks but nobody got in my face. I’m quite sure they didn’t really want any part of a returning vet wearing a CIB and Jump Wings.

I reached my waiting area and checked in. The two young ladies also thanked me for my service. What struck me as strange is one of the ladies walked out from behind the counter, gave me a hug and said welcome home. That meant a lot. It was time to board so I got on the plane as nervous as a cat. I was ready. I knew my family was probably leaving the house to come pick me up at the Memphis airport. We tok off without incident and were having a pretty smooth flight until we hit the Rocky Mountains. Then it got really rough. We hit a wind going straight down and we all began to pray because the plane was dropping like a rock. But apparently it was common to have those downdrafts over the rockies. The pilot got it under control after dropping 500-1000 feet and we all wiped our brows. From there it was a smooth flight. I remember touching down at the Memphis airport thinking “what was I going to say” and who was going to be there. At that time we still had to walk down the ladder. I came out of the door to a round of applause. I was stunned. My entire family was there. The first one that came up to me was my father. He stood back and looked at me. He was never an emotional man at all. He looked at all the decorations on my uniform and shook my hand for a minute then pulled me too him and hugged me then wispered “welcome home son”. That was one of the most important moments of my life. Then we went through the family greetings. I knew they were glad to see me no matter what kind of a son of a bitch I had been all my life because they were all crying.

We drove home to a nice home cooked meal. No “C” rations. We visited for most of the day then I went out and saw my friends who all busted my chops in a joking manner. The next few days were like the first. Then I wanted to buy a car because I had been sending all except $20 of my check to the bank. I only kept $20 on me in the bush (no place to spend it). At that time you had to be 21 to buy your own car. You could not legally have it in your name until 21. I went to my dad to get him to go sign for my car. I had cash to pay for it. He refused, told me I was too young to own my own car. I was a little more than taken aback but what could I do? My mother heard him say that and told me to go get in the car and we drove down to the car lot to buy the nice ‘61 Impala convertible.

I played around in Memphis for the remainder of my leave time “breaking in” the car at every opportunity. Finally I had to report to my next duty station, Ft. Campbell, KY, home of the 101st Airborne Division, the Screaming Eagles. When I reported into the replacement center I was greeted with wonderful news. At that very time the division was deploying their last two brigades. Since I had just come back I didn’t have to go back for 6 months. It was my choice. The 1st Sergeant saw me standing at the counter with the Cav combat patch, Combat Infantry Badge, and Sergeant’s stripes. He tried to talk me into going back with them and I declined. He told me to wait a minute then escorted me into a Major’s office. The recruiter did everything but beg me to go back with them because they needed experieced NCO’s because not very many of their men had ever seen combat. I was an E-5 Sergeant at that time and he promised me I would be an E-7 platoon sergeant by the time I got back. It was a tempting offer but I turned it down. I often wonder how many men I could have saved with my experience because I know I could have saved some. But I became selfish and stayed on at Ft. Campbell with a security platoon that was simply gravy while those other young troopers were facing Charlie in larger numbers and the fights were becoming more intense. When TET began 6 months later I really felt bad because I know I would have saved some of those men.

On the bright side, the orders had come through for my Bronze Star with “V” for valor and I had it pinned on my chest by the commanding general of Ft Campbell in front of an entire brigade. That was a proud moment for me.

Still, to this day I wish I’d gone back to help.

The end of June came and went without incident. By this time I had about 45 days left in country. Believe me, I certainly didn’t want to get blown away after all the crap I’d already been through. It was an unwritten rule the short timers didn’t walk point nor did they take a lot of short timers out on night ambushes or squad patrols around a place the company CP was set up. One thing we did have to do was to send out at least one short timer on the same ambushes and patrols because of experience. Experience can save a life just a easily as inexperience can get someone or a lot of people killed. I was like most short timers, I knew if it got nasty I would rather be right in the middle of it than sitting back at the end of the column. Once an NVA ambush opened up we would just naturally move to the front of the column to make sure some FNG didn’t do something stupid and to help get them out of the killing zone of an ambush.

The killing zone was the most important part of an ambush. If you had a bunch of FNG’s in the middle of a killing zone that would be what would happen to them if we didn’t move up and overtake the ambush. The new troops are taught in all their training to turn into the ambush, lay down as much fire as they could muster, and move forward toward the ambush. Superior firepower saves lives. When an ambush is actually sprung it is a natural tendency to stop and take some kind of cover. That’s where the veterans and squad leaders came in. We would get to the ambush site and move the newer troops into the fight and lay down as much fire as possible. The vast majority of the time the people that sprung the ambush would pull out within minutes when we began to lay down all our fire and move in.

Now, that being said, if there was a larger force in the ambush they could pin us down and we would have to find cover out of the line of fire, pop smoke, and let the gunships do their job.

I was extremely fortunate to be assigned to the strongest unit in Viet Nam and also in the 1st Brigade. The Cav had more choppers than any other unit and could bring in gunships in mere minutes and Charlie didn’t want to stay around and face the gunships. I honestly believe that was why God placed me in that unit, so I could come home in one piece. Things happen for a number of reasons but I do believe there is a hand somewhere making them happen.

The majority of the last couple of weeks in July were fairly quiet other than the booby traps. That meant Uncle Ho was moving his little buddies into position for an offensive somewhere. The first week of August was very quiet. Simply a lot of air assults looking for Charlie after one of the Bell choppers had spotted troop movement. We were moved around from mountain to mountain to check out the trails. That was primarily the duty of the 9th Cav’s Blue teams but just about everyone was doing it.

The second week of August I was sent into An Khe on a chopper to get ready to go home. When I got on that chopper I simply prayed the chopper would make it to An Khe without incident. While in the air the chopper dropped into English because they were needed quickly to move some troops. I ended up driving back to An Khe in a jeep with nobody other than me and the supply sergeant. So guess what? We had to drive down a road that took you through An Khe pass which was notorious for ambushes of motor convoys. We had two M-16’s and that was it. Thankfully we made it back to An Khe and I turned in all my equipment, put on fresh jungle fatigues and hopped a Caribou to Cam Rhan Bay. I was then processed out and loaded on a C-141 for the flight to Oakland.

When a 141 is loaded with troops the seats are set up facing backwards and the way a 141 flies it feels like it is pointing down rather than level. That is a scary feeling. You think “I just made it through a year in the jungle and now this damned plane is going to crash into the ocean”. But, thank God, we made the trip with nothing happening. There is no way to describe the feeling when the plane touched down on American soil and began it’s taxi to the army’s in processing terminal.

I wasn’t home yet but I was on American soil for the first time in a year. The date was August 17, 1967, it was time to go home.

By this time of my tour there were several of us getting “short” (close to DROS (date of rotation to the states)). We were as anxious to avoid contact as we had ever been. We had a lot of FNG’s coming in and several of us that been replacements the previous August. There weren’t very many of us that had made it for 9 1/2 months without a Purple Heart and none of us wanted one. Promotions weren’t automatic as some thought. There were an awful lot of infantrymen that spent their tour in the bush and came home as a Spec-4 (E-4). It wasn’t that they weren’t good soldiers, they held their own and didn’t slack off at all, they just weren’t leaders that could react decisively in a hurry. They were great soldiers but they were followers. Nothing wrong with that. I saw some men come in and within three months were promoted from PFC to SGT. There was no favortism or butt kissing in the bush. Men were promoted as their actions deemed.

One thing you could bet was medals weren’t handed out just to be handing them out. They were awarded for a special kind of valor. That was the biggest problem I had with John Kerry. His medals were all simply political to boost his resume’. That was the reason the vets voted against him rather than for him as he was depending on. That was especially prevelant among grunts. We all knew Kerry was a fake.

We spent the next month humping mostly the mountains. It was the day to day grind again. We were still picking up signs of heavy troop movement by the NVA. We knew something was coming. What we didn’t know was they spent about 6-8 months getting their units into position for the TET offensive of ‘68. That was one of the reasons we noticed a decrease in fights of any size. We still ran into the booby traps and they were the type that were manufactured just like weapons were manufactured then hauled down the Ho Chi Mihn Trail by the NVA. Those things were all over the place. We placed our older guys on point. That may seem unfair to the guys almost ready to go home but, to the contrary, it was safer for them because they could spot a booby trap a lot faster than a new man. We simply wanted to make it like a hike through the mountains nice and safe. We avoided trails as much as possible. We ran across trails wide enough for carts being pulled by animals to get down. We certainly got the hell away from those kind of trail.

We would be set out on night ambushes almost every night somebody got the honor of these treats. It didn’t matter, nobody ambushed anybody because there were simply too many enemy in the area. We would set up on a trail then back off the trail about 50 meters so the enemy didn’t see us and spend the night like that. It wasn’t the Oliver Stone crap of setting up right next to a trail then ambushing the point of a column of NVA. That was simply stupid. I don’t know where he got that. Just some more hollywood crap that made us look like crazed killers. I could identify with some of the fights in Platoon but the rest of the movie was total bullshit. There wasn’t any of this coming back into the bunkers for the night for some beer drinking and pot smoking. That movie really torqued me. Reality was We Were Soldiers. It didn’t get any more real than that. Throw the hollywood left wing twist by some of those nut jobs out there and watch Mel Gibson play his role along with his entire batallion. Hal Moore was real and that was the actual way he lead his men. Those soldiers were good soldiers. There was no crap in the 1st Cav then or through at least ‘67. That was my army, not Oliver Stone’s portrayal.

We got through the end of June without any heavy fighting which was a blessing. That left me with about 45 more days to stay alive along with several others that came in as replacements with me. We were all counting days now.

In reflection of the battle at An Qui, there are so many little things that you begin to remember. I can remember when I had gone back across the open area for the second time trying to get back to our lines the M-60 had jammed and there I was with no weapon. I had made it across the open area and picked up a wounded man’s M-16. That weapon belonged to Peace who I had told you about earlier. He had a bandage wrapped around his head and was full of blood but the strange thing was he had a smile on his face. I’ll never forget him sitting there against a built up hedgerow dike. I remember asking what in the world happpened. He just looked up at me and smiled and said “I guess I got shot” like it was nothing. Apparently what had happened was a round had hit the front site of his rifle (for those of you that don’t know about the sight on the M-16 it sticks up a couple of inches in a triangle on the front of the weapon). When the round hit the front site it deflected it just enough for the round to crease the top of his forhead and part of his head. It wasn’t a horrible wound but when you think about the possibility of what would have happened had the round been 1/4 inch to the right or left it would have hit him right between the eyes and there was no doubt he would have been killed. God works in very strange ways. Peace got on the medevac and only had the same amount of time left in country as I did he never came back to the field again.

Then there was a big black guy by the name of Shedrack (sp). He was sitting next to Peace with his rifle broken down running a cleaning rod down the barrel to get a round out that had jammed. (The M-16 was notorious for jamming. A tiny grain of sand would jam it so it had to be kept clean all the time). When I was picking up Peace’s weapon for another trip across the field I looked down at Shedrack and just kind of laughed. He looked up and smiled and said “darn M-16″. He was never a slacker at all. He could always be counted on. He was an extremely religious man and you would never hear him curse no matter what happened.

Charles Thoms, a New York City kid was on the other M-60 was pouring rounds into the village. I slipped around him and let him know where I would be so he didn’t fire in that direction. I got about half way across the field from another direction with more cover and slipped down behind a tree. As I began to pour magazine after magazine into the village I had just made it out of just in case the NVA had moved back into the bunkers to catch our trapped our last squad coming out. I kept the covering fire up until our last man was out of the village and we moved out of the village. We took up positions out in the dry rice paddies while the artillery, ARA (gun ships) and the jets pounded the village. I remember the Phantom coming in with their bombs. When they exploded we heard the awful sound of ppfft……pfft……ppfft hitting all around us. We were too close to the village and the sharpnel was landing all around us. The RTO got on the radio and screamed to call them off until we could get back about another hundred yards. When we got down and covered up Goode (another rather large black man) was ling on his back next to me. His eyes were as big as saucers. He was in the squad to the right of mine going into the village. They got pinned down immediately and couldn’t move an inch. The gunships came in and laid down fire so precise he said it was about 25 feet in front of them and worked over the NVA positions so they could pull back.

There were simply so many little things that come back to me when I begin to think about it. It seems like it was yesterday. I remember when I went back in to show them where the bodies were. Sgt. Dunn was lying on top of a bunker as was Sgt. Neese. Dunn had one hole in his stomach that was so small I could see his intestines sticking out the hole. Sgt. Neese had most of his head gone. The new guy had been shot several times. He had bandages on his head where Doc Word had patched him up while he was still alive. That just wasn’t enough. He had several holes in his chest also that he had take after Doc had patched him up. Doc was on the end of him where his head was while patching him up when he got hit several more times in his chest. I remember asking Doc about it and he was crying. He thought he had saved him so we could get him out to a medevac but as he was working on him he got raked again. I could tell by Doc’s face that he was just frustrated because he could have saved the man had they not raked those bushes again. I guess it’s hard to imagine how Doc felt sometimes. He was a wonderful man, as brave a man as you would ever meet. Our medics knew no fear. They saved so many lives with their pure guts.

But the fight was over and we were back on English drinking a warm beer waiting for a couple days until we had some replacements and were ready to go back to the bush. The next day we got a new Lieutenant that was gung ho. He was the type that thought he was a hard ass. This was a guy that wanted to be a hero and was apt to get some people killed. The night before we were going back into the bush I began to run a high fever. The batallion surgeon took me to his tent, gave me an IV and iced me down. He told me to stay there. About 10PM that evening the new Lt. came into the surgeon’s tent and told me I had damned well better be on those choppers going to the field the next morning. To begin with he didn’t know me from adam. He was simply an asshole. That’s as simple as it gets.

There are two different types of malaria. One is called Plasmodium vivax which is gone forever once cured. The other is Plasmodium falciparum and is the life threatening malaria. It never leaves you blood stream and can come back if you are in the wrong climate for years after you have had it. That was the kind I had caught early in my tour. Never the less the next morning I pulled the IV out of my arm, rucked up and moved out with my company as I had been ordered. We had set up in a small abandoned village and were sending platoon patrols into the mountains out of that location. The new platoon leader had threatened to bust me down to a PFC from a Sgt if I didn’t get out of that bed and hit the choppers with my unit. Needless to say, I was pretty well torqued at him. Before my platoon moved out I was talking to the third platoon leader, Lt. Radcliff, great guy, West Point Man and great leader. I tried to get him to move me into his platoon before I decked this young Lt. He said he would love to have me but he blew smoke up my ass and told me I was too good a man to take out of that inexperienced platoon (yeah, right, and my mama’s a possum). So, I went back to my platoon to begin patrol. I was walking third in the column but we had one guy with a month in walking point and an FNG walking second. I was pissed anyway and itching for a fight. I told the point man to take my place and I’d take the point. The new Lt. told me no way and I told him to go f*** himself, it was my squad. He told me when we got back to English he was going to Article 15 me and bust me. Like I really cared. I told him to do as he pleased and moved out. Along the trail I began to feel like hell again. Doc word came up again and stopped the column on the spot. He called the platoon leader’s RTO up and called for a medevac. I heard the batallion commander on the radio ask Doc “is it Foote”. Doc told him yes and the batallion commander, a Lt. Col. brought in his own chopper to pick me up. The Batallion surgeon came to the chopper when the Col set it down and asked me why in hell I left the tent that morning. I told him what had happened and the Lt. Col. simply lifted his chopper off and flew me to Cam Rhan Bay immediately. It only took two weeks to knock this bout out and I was right back with the unit ready to go healthy as a horse. Funny thing was when I got there we had a new platoon leader. The new Lt. had been replaced the day the batallion commander picked me up. They apparently sent him back to some unit where he would do administrative duties rather than lead an infantry platoon. I remember Lt. Radcliff came over me, shook my hand and said he was glad to see me back so soon and the problem had been rectified the day I was lifted out. Some people just aren’t meant to lead. I’m sure that Lt. didn’t go far in the military. Probably about like John Kerry. Kerry reminded me of him, no wonder I hated Kerry so much.

But on we went. It was getting close to the first of June and I was getting what they call “short”. I had about 75 days left in country and was hoping we would get a nice quiet area to hump for a couple of months. No such luck, we headed further north than the Kim Song in the direction of the AShau valley. It became known as the “Valley of Death” when the Cav first entered it. The Bong Son area was mild next to the AShau. We didn’t enter the AShau but we were close enough to begin running into a LOT of NVA platoon size plus units and the fights became more numerous. When I returned to the platoon there were several new faces and a couple new sergeants plus a couple sergeants missing. One had finished his tour and the other had been killed. As we patrolled closer to the border casualities began to mount as did enemy contact. I thought to myself “I just knew I should have found a way to stay in that hospital”. Problem being we had a lot of new faces and they needed all the older guys they could scare up to help the FNG’s survive. So on I went back into the same old grind, climbing up the mountains, setting up for the night on top of a mountain, hoping Charlie wouldn’t want that particular piece of Viet Nam that night. It became routine again. Most of the older guys would get a night on English now and then just to get a break and a good night’s sleep. We all needed it. I can remember some of the newer guys kind of resented that but they would simply have to deal with it.

It was getting close to July and no major fights since An Qui but we knew there was one coming soon. We were seeing way too many signs of heavy troop movement and that wasn’t a good thing. They were massing again. We just didn’t know where.

May began just as April ended, rough. We weren’t going very deep into the mountains surrounding the Bong Son plains in Bihn Dihn province. Even though we weren’t going very deep into the mountains we were going on a more regular basis in smaller units. It seemed odd to all of us that we operated in a company size unit out on the plains and going through the villages but when they sent us into the mountains the largest force we used was platoon size.

They began sending us into draws coming out of the mountains looking for trails to set up on. They would split the company and platoons into 10-12 man teams for these ambushes. Here’s where military intelligence becomes an oxymoron. If I’m Charlie sitting on the ground watching the choppers moving into the mountains in pairs and setting down on several different LZ’s. This turned into a big duh. Charlie knew we were setting up ambushes on the trails in the draws. Who among the readers of this blog would think the NVA was going to walk into one of these ambushes? Once in a while you might catch a couple of stragglers but that was about all. Hell, they knew where we were better than we did. If they chose to they could have wiped out every ambush set up for them but they had other things on their minds. They were slipping over the border and through the mountains in platoon size groups going into staging areas for company and batallion size units.

Lessons learned from LZ Bird? It appears as if nothing was learned. Before we were over run on Bird intelligence knew the 22nd NVA was operating in force in the Kim Son valley yet they put us out there as bait anyway. Those of us that wiggled off the hook at Bird knew there was something wrong with the picture and we talked among ourselves about it. When we talked about what was going on you could see the fear in the faces of the FNG’s. When someone tripped a booby trap the fear among the FNG’s grew even more. Those of us that had been around for several months knew the bobby traps were standard procedure. One thing the new guys invariably asked was “where were the punji sticks” and those type of booby traps. We simply explained to them that wasn’t the type of enemy we were facing in the central highlands. These guys were hard core NVA and Main Force Viet Cong. They weren’t the farmer by day, VC by night type of enemy. Most of the less than lethal booby traps were in the south in the swamps, not in the mountains.

Bihn Dinh province was crucial to the NVA. They needed it to cut the country in half and to have a better base of operations to operate from. As we got deeper into 1967 we all knew something was coming at us. We just didn’t know what. We were moving constantly from the mountains to the villages and back to the mountains. Around mid May we began to run into larger elements, not stragglers, squad and platoon size elements all headed to the middle of the Bong Son plains. We’d have a quick hit and run fight or hit a booby trap but the difference was it was happening more often.

We were air lifted to the top of a mountain with a well traveled trail we knew the NVA were moving troops and equipment along. We set up in a company size position and sent platoon patrols out to cover the smaller trails coming into the larger trail we were sitting on. When the patrols were sent out we always kept a few men from each platoon to secure the company command post. We would rotate people staying back so everyone got a chance to rest a little. One day five of us out of my platoon got the gravy duty of resting while the rest of the platoon went down the mountain and were to come back up the other side of the draw. Walking point was a guy from Florida by the name of Larry Clausen. He was a hot dog but had reason to be because he was a genuine bad ass, not afraid of anything. Behind him was an Indian from Arizona by the name of Poolaw. Very quiet, very likeable man. He was the definition of stealth on a patrol. Suddenly we heard an explosion about halfway down the mountain. I saw Doc Ennis running toward my position which was facing the explosion. He wasn’t running to see me. I grabbed a rifle and ammo and was right behind him to cover his ass heading down the mountain. One of the radio operators followed me. We ran into some extremely thick brush. We could see the position of the explosion down the mountain but just couldn’t get through the brush. Then we heard the medevac coming in. We saw them drop the stretcher into the jungle and knew someone was hurt bad. At the same time we heard on the radio it was Clausen and Poolaw that had been hit. The position of the booby trap was set in such a way that it killed them both instantly with pellets to the head. I remember hearing the company commander asking my platoon leader if it was Poolaw. This was confirmed and we all just sat down and cried. That was a very unusual thing because we always tried to block out the hurt when someone went down. I was stuck in the brush with Doc Ennis, he was the chief headhunter (company medic), and the RTO. Poolaw was special to all of us, there is always someone like that but the loss of Poolaw simply devestated all of us. Yes there had been another man killed but it just wasn’t the same. The platoon made it back up to the company CP and we were extracted and dropped into LZ Pony for a day.

The next day we were right back at it. We were out in the plains checking the villages surrounding the village of An Qui. Suddenly we heard a fierce fire fight break out over in An Qui. We were about a click (kilometer) from there so we were ordered to move out and move into An Qui from the west and push through to A and B companies who had set up as a blocking force. we got to the edge of the village and dropped down behind the rice paddy dikes. We saw movement and some NVA heading into a hooch. The platoon leader screamed for the 60’s to open up on that hooch. That was my cue since I was then humping the 60. We pretty well shreaded the hooch. If there was anyone in there they were dead or shot all to hell. We then got up and began to move into An Qui, 1st squad to the left and 3rd squad to the right with second (mine) squad in the middle. When we moved into the village we had to cross an open area about 50 yards across. We got out into the open moving quickly and all hell broke loose. Two men in front of me and two men behind me were hit immediately and I kept moving firing all the way. I knocked out two bunkers, one a machine gun bunker and killed 4 NVA in those bunkers. That gave us time to get our flanking squads pulled back. As I was moving back I saw Doc Word in the brush with wounded. One was a young man that had just joined the company the day before. I asked Doc if he needed help. He said he needed to get the platoon leader out of there but the new guy was already dead along with two squad leaders. Doc and I grabbed Lt. Mordue and got him to safety. I returned to the crossing and laid down fire to help get the rest of the men out of the killing zone. The Lt had his ankle shot all to hell.

We finally got out of the village and had our wounded medevaced. We had to leave three dead in the village. There was no way to bring them out then. The gunships, jets, and artillery began to pound the hell out of that village and pounded it all night long. The next day we had to sweep the village because the NVA had moved out during the night. It seems we had walked right into the middle of an NVA batallion dug in looking for a fight. We lost 7 men out of my platoon that day and several wounded. The company commander came to me and asked me to show the armor where the bodies were. Apparently I was the only one that had made it that far into the village and lived to tell about it. We went in with chains and I pointed out the bodies of our men. The armor guys thanked me and said they would take it from there. They had to drag the bodies out with chains because they might be booby trapped. I got back to the company position and batallion air lifted us back to English to stand down.

For that day the Batallion Commander awarded me the Bronze Star Medal with “V” device for valor. They also gave me a Purple Heart for scratching myself in the bushes, go figure. I wondered why because all I did was get the hell out of there as quick as I could. I did nothing anyone else would have done had they been in the same position.

After that fight we stayed in a stand down position for 3 days to collect ourselves and pat ourselves on our collective backs for still being alive and mourned the dead.

It was getting worse and we all knew it.

April brought more rain but the dry season was just around the corner. We looked forward to that for some strange reason. It really didn’t matter, you were going to be wet anyway no matter what. Once the rain stopped it was so hot you were dripping wet with sweat. People that haven’t done it can never imagine how hard it really was humping day after day after day. It seemed like people were in a daze a lot of time. It took everything a man had sometimes just to keep up with the daily grind.

It wasn’t unusual for a man to simply fall out from heat exhaustion. The rest of the squad would pick up the slack for him. It happened to me once. I swore I would never let the squad down by passing my work on to someone else because everyone was over worked anyway. It was hot and we’d been humping the mountains around the An Lo valley again. I’ll never forget it. I began to feel weak in the knees. I knew the heat was getting to me. I took my canteen and took off my steel pot to pour some water over my head. I wasn’t sweating and that’s not a good sign. Harrington, the gunner, a very large black man from somewhere in the northeast, held his hand up and grabbed my shoulder to get me to the ground. About that time I went black for a few seconds. It wasn’t very long but as I began to open my eyes Harrington and Scotty (the other grenadier, a black kid from NYC) were taking my rucksack off me and covering my head and face with wet towels (everyone had a towel around their neck most of the time) to get me back to my senses. The column had stopped until I was ready to go. My platoon leader, Lt. Mordeau came back to check on me. I told him I was fine, let’s move back out. I saw a look on his face I’d seen more than once on a man’s face. The look is yeah, right, you’re ready. Wayne Peace (funny I remember some full names after all these years, mostly I remember faces) and Eddie Harris (the man I had become pretty tight with) grabbed my gear. Peace carried my rucksack and Harris grabbed my web gear. All I carried was my weapon and ammo. Harrington and Scotty would have carried the gear but they both carried extremely heavy loads. Harrington humping the gun and Scotty humping the 79, so they couldn’t really carry that much extra weight. A couple minutes later the colum moved out again as it would have normally. About an hour later I was feeling stronger so I took my web gear back then after another half hour or so I took my rucksack. I thanked Peace and Harris and it was simply a smile returned meaning they knew I would do the same for them and they also knew if we’d hit something I would have pulled my load.

Funny how you remember some things. I can honestly still smell the fires in the hooches as we’d walk through a village. I remember some trails as if they were my back yard. I remember so many little things and all the big things that happened. We were a strange mixture of men. SFC Baiza was a huge hispanic (then we termed them Mexicans and they didn’t mind at all), SSG Horton was an average size man from Missouri, nice guy, good squad leader, Wayne Peace, a very simple guy my age from Georgia, Eddie Harris, another very simple young man from North Carolina, Scotty, a guy as black as the night, about 5′8″ and strong as an ox, Sgt Peiffier, simply a very average man from California, Sheddrack, an extremely quiet black man from South Carolina, Larry Clauson, a real hard case from Florida (he was one of the replacements), Rubio, another Mexican from a poor part of some city in Texas, Hundly, as nice a guy as you could ever meet but strong and steady (another replacement), Doc Word, average size black guy from Texas, Charles Thoms, ugliest SOB you have ever seen, buck teeth and a nose that ran to his chin, young kid from NYC, thought he was a bad ass, Brophy, heavy set guy, never met a friendlier person, and the list could go on, just so many young men coming and going either by rotation, medevac, or a body bag. I simply feel obligated to let people know everyone wasn’t just a poor black from a ghetto. We were from all over and all cared as much as anyone could for each other in that situation. Nobody wanted anyone to get hit but we knew it was going to happen. There was simply no way it wasn’t going to happen. We were in a war, we all knew that. We just hoped it was someone besides “me” meaning every man there.

We were paying more attention to the mountains on the edges of the valley now instead of being deep into the mountains. That told us Charlie was moving closer to the villages. That also told us there were going to be more and more booby traps and snipers in the areas we were patroling. One day I was in the point squad patrolling the ridgline facing the rice paddies. Our squad went out around the point of the ridge searching down the hill for signs of enemy activity. After we had moved out around the point of the ridgeline the squad following us had cut across the ridge. Sure as they did the second man in their squad tripped a bouncing betty. That is a booby trap that, when tripped, springs up to about waist high and explodes. It took out two men, Brophy and another that I can’t remember the name of. I remember looking back and seeing Brophy lying there. The mine had cut him in half. We called in the Medevac, Doc Word had patched him up as best he could and filled him full of morphine. It didn’t matter, he died before the medevac could get back to the forward MASH unit on English. We continued humping never saying a word. We knew he had died and nobody said anything. We just set up for the night and went about our duties. The log ship brought us hot chow and mail. That was always a welcome sight. I remember we had roast beef, smashed taters and gravy, and lima beans. Of course we knew it wasn’t real roast beef, it was water buffalo. It tasted just as good but it was always a little tough and stringy but it was hot and good. We all had mail whenever the log ship brought it out because we didn’t see it every day. I’d seen times when we didn’t see the log ship for 5 days. It was a welcome sight anytime though.

We stayed in the mountains around the Bong Son plains for a couple more days and it was nearing the 3rd week in April. That meant my R&R was coming up. 5 days of drinking and chasing Japanese women (actually it turned into less than 4 because flight time and orientation time to Japan took up a lot of time). Never the less it was great to climb on the log ship the day before I was going to get on that big iron bird. Even as I was flying back to English to chopper over to An Khe to get my class “A’s” the door gunner tapped me on the shoulder and told me someone was in the shit and choppers had been deployed to pick up my company to go in to help. Apparently it was A company and they were getting hit pretty hard. My thoughts were I hate to see it happen but I’m going to forget about it for a few days.

We got to Japan and we were all strangers to each other because we only let one man from the platoon go on R&R at a time. They had different hotel packages so four of us grunts from different units grouped up and went to the same hotel. As soon as we checked in we headed straight into downtown Yokohama to hit the bars. We started out in a bar that catered to American military. Most were stationed in Japan. This is the killer, I went to the bar and ordered a beer and you would not believe what happened. The bartender carded me and of course I was 19. It seems the legal drinking age in Japan is 21. Here I stood with a Combat Infantry Badge on my uniform on R&R from Viet Nam and the bartender wouldn’t serve me. There were several guys at the bar that were apparently stationed in Japan. One of them told me to go sit down. About 5 minutes later here came a half dozen of these guys and each of them sat down at out table and each one of them set a cold beer down in front of me. They said they had just had a friendly conversation with the bartender so I could drink all I wanted. They were a bunch of nice guys. As soon as I was good and drunk they pointed us to the girls in Japan. We walked into a bar and were immediately surrounded by girls. I had one on each side of me, both pretty girls making sure I knew their intentions. So I ended up with two pretty Japanese girls for three nights. It sure made me forget Viet Nam.

But, all good things must come to an end so back to Viet Nam I went. When I got off the Caribou at An Khe the dust and heat hit me in the face and my head dropped. I thought, “here we go again”. I picked up my gear at supply and hopped a ride to the chopper pad. I climbed on the log ship going out to my unit. Of course I was greeted with the expected sarcastic “welcome homes” I was given by all my platoon. They were actually happy to see me. SFC Baiza had been moved to third platoon which puzzled me a little. I asked what was going on. SSG Rozelle was now our platoon sgt and we had a couple of new faces in the platoon, actually several new faces in the company. Hell, one of he FNG’s even tried to bust my chops a little when I got off the chopper but he was shut down in a hurry by the rest of the platoon. (Dumb Ass). Apparently the night I went out and my company was picked up A company (again) had run into an NVA company. My platoon lost an entire squad that night to friendly fire. Apparently two smoke grenades were popped (same color). One was where to bring in the slick and the other was to mark the position of our forward troops position. The gunship mistook the first smoke as our forward position because it was popped first and the gunships were coming in for their run. They opened up and chopped up an entire squad. Joe Bailey, the guy that had taken my place humping the 79 had also been hit 6 times, not by the gunships but the NVA. They told me he was all right and was in a Japanese military hospital. They told me he had taken all 6 hits in the arms and legs. I found out 20 years ago he was KIA that night when I saw his name in a casualty book at a Memphis vet center. My platoon simply didn’t tell me that because they didn’t want me to feel guilty about him getting killed walking in the exact spot I should have been in.

Things really began to heat up at the end of April and continued to escalate into May. Charlie was going to make a move somewhere. We just didn’t know where.

After the disaster at LZ Bird we only had two companies at “combat efficiency”, A and B company were still in good shape. C company (mine) had been decimated. After Bird we were moved back to the base camp of the Cav at An Khe. This was a sprawling base in the middle of the central highlands.

There was one distinguishing mark to the base. There was one mountain just on the edge of the base. It was called Hon Kon mountain and right on one side of it from the top of the mountain to about midway down the mountain was a huge 1st Cav patch in living color. Rumor had it that it irritated Ho Chi Mihn so much he swore to eat dinner off the patch. This was probably the safest place in the central highlands. This was gravy duty.

They would rotate batallions in periodically to guard the perimeter of the base camp. After the beating we took on Bird the decision was made to bring the batallion back to An Khe to set up on the green line. The green line was the name we called the perimeter of Camp Radcliff, the 1st Cav’s base camp. The actual perimeter had bunkers and towers set up with an permanent M-60 machine gun position very close together. This was the place my life with the 1st Cav began what seemed like years ago although it had only been about 4 1/2 months. We had 4 - 5 man positions because we were reinforced by the REMF’s that happened to draw guard duty that day. That gave us an opportunity to sit back and relax a little.

On the first night back when we reached the batallion area there were several jeep trailors filled with iced down beer. Most of it was Carling Black Label, Pabst Blue Ribbon, and Schlitz but who cared, it was ice cold beer. We certainly made the best of it. I remember the next morning there were people lying all over the ground. I don’t think anyone made it back to a bunk that night. We just passed out where we fell. We had just lost a lot of good men and the beer somehow numbed a person. We simply didn’t think about all the men we had lost in the last 4 1/2 months. It was part of war. When people are shooting someone is going to die. That’s just a fact of life. It may seem callous but when it happened nothing was ever said but all the thoughts were “better thee than me”. It was an unwritten rule that these kind of things were seldom mentioned.

When the sun came up we all had passes to go into An Khe which meant “Sin City”. We all got up, went to supply to get new jungle fatigues then signed out at the orderly room to go to town. On the way out the door there were several boxes of condoms and we all took a couple on the way out. We kind of grouped up in groups of 3-5 (usually your squad members). This was our day. No guard duty, just fun. We never really had to walk anywhere. When we hit the dirt road just off the company area a deuce and a half woud stop and tell us to hop in. They always drove to the gate to let us out. From there we were on our own. We walked around town for about a half hour but we all knew we weren’t shopping or taking in the sights. We were just waiting for someone to mention “Sin City”. Once that happened we headed straight down to the road entering “Sin City”

Now, “Sin City” was actually an army run whorehouse. There was constintina wire around all the bars. The bars were all set up in a rectangle each attached to the other. In the middle of this rectangle was a smaller rectangle of bars set up the same way. It was there for one purpose only. For the GI’s to blow off some steam and have a little “fun”. The minute you walked into one of the bars you were damned near attacked by young ladies who took you to the bar so you could get a beer for a quarter. They never let you drink over one beer though before they brought up their purpose. It was always “you number 1 GI, you boom boom 200P” Number 1 was great, number 10 meant you sucked. And of course I think we all know what the “boom boom” was. 200P meant 200 Piasters which translated into two dollars (not bad). They then grabbed you by the arm to take you back to a room behind the bar to consumate the transaction. When you were finished they took you back to the bar and had you sit down so they could then fill your belly with beer and move on to a new GI that just walked in the door. I don’t think there was a much “love” involved here. You could stay there as long as you and your money held out but when the sun was going down the MP’s at the gate ran everyone out. Charlie would slip into An Khe at night and you didn’t want to get caught in An Khe at night. It was almost the same as a death warrant.

But that went on for the first day you were there. Then it was back to guarding the base camp and running patrols outside the perimeter at night. About every 3-4 days you would get a pass into town to take care of more business. If you were lucky you would draw partol duty on the An Khe side of the Green Line. We would set up behind “Sin City” for the night and the girls would come out to us. Charlie didn’t mess with us if we were in 5-10 man patrols so we went whoring at night if we had that partol.

That was about the way your break went. When I was in country we only went in to base camp one time. The rest of he time the best we could hope for was a forward supply base. We sat around the green line playing cards, going to town, and standing guard at night. We just enjoyed the break while waiting for replacements to fill our ranks to make us operational.

We stayed in for almost three weeks then command decided it was time for us to go back to the bush. The company was loaded down with young green replacements. I was an old veteran by that time (right, 19 years old and an old veteran, is there something wrong with this picture?). But we all loaded on to an army Caribou and were flown to LZ English, the forward supply area for the Cav. From there we were sent to the chopper pad to be lifted back into the bush and you’ll never guess where they took us, to the end of the Kim Son valley. Bird had been abandoned by that time but our area of operations was the mountains at the end of the valley. We patrolled that area for a couple of weeks still running into a few stragglers left behind by the 22nd NVA who we promptly dispatched with extreme prejudice.

From there we went back and forth among the mountains and valley’s to the west of Bon Song because there was a lot of enemy activity in that area. We found it everywhere. We hit the booby traps again and found signs of Charlie all over the area. We ran into small elements but nothing big. When you run into a lot of small elements like that it tells you they are gathering for a fight somewhere. We did our best to disrupt them but simply didn’t succeed.

One night while we were set up on top of a mountain over looking LZ English, the forward supply area, the “secure area” I was on guard facing the LZ. Suddenly all hell broke loose on English. They were being hit by sappers. A sapper was like the suicide bomber the middle east uses. They would strap explosives to their bodies and attempt to destroy our supplies. They hit the POL (fuel dump), the ammo dump, the chopper pad, and the hospital. The whole place was making a spectacular show for us but we were too far away to even think about helping. What was kind of sad and made you feel so callous was the talk going around the perimeter was “it’s about time you REMF’s got into the war”. I mean, men were dying and that was what we thought. Of course I don’t think anyone really meant it but it seemed to distance the death and destruction from a man’s mind since we couldn’t help.

I actually ran into a man that was on English that night. It was simply by chance. When I was transferred to Indiana and I was going around meeting the people in the plant I ran into a laminator operator that was in the Cav. We talked a little bit and he told me he was a clerk typist on English when they got hit that night. I thought, well hell, then told him we were watching from a mountain top. He knew what we were thinking because he asked me if we got a kick out of watching them have to do some fighting? He knew because boonie rats were a different kind of animal than a clerk typist of a cook or any other job like that. We did get along very well though. It’s called comradship, it was still there after all those years.

During the months of January and February of ‘67 we stayed in the same areas but spent a little more time down in the plains and checking out villages. Charlie was on the move and he wanted Bihn Dihn Province. We were determined he wasn’t going to have it. One thing we did notice was booby traps became much more numerous along the mountain trails but the strange thing was we began to notice more booby traps in village areas. The rice paddies were still full of water because of the wet season so we were running into them on rice paddy dikes more frequently. This was early ‘67 and Charlie was building up for something. We ran into more and more larger elements, usually platoon size which told us they were gathering for a fight somewhere. Some of the other brigades were hitting some major firefights. We were usually air lifted in to help them out. Just the sight of the sky black with choppers would cause Charlie to break off he fight and live to fight another day.

By this time it was near the end of March and I was looking forward to my R&R to Japan coming up the first week of April. All I was doing at that time was trying to stay alive and counting the days until I climbed on the plane to Japan.

Among the various other enemies the grunts had to face was disease. We had to combat the mosquitos because they carried malaria. We had to deal with leeches and intestinal worms just like dogs get. We had to worry about immersion foot, crotch rot, ringworms and just about every other kind of nasty things in the jungles. There were snakes, rats the size of cats, and other various sorts of jungle animals. One thing I never did see was a tiger (thank God for that). I honestly don’t know of anyone or have heard of anyone that actually saw a tiger in the bush.

In early November 1966 I was out on a platoon patrol in the mountains. I hadn’t been feeling too hot to begin with for a couple days. While out on patrol I began to get extremely weak. The platoon took a break for me to rest for a few minutes. When they got up to move back out I was lying on the ground shivering and shaking. Doc Word came back to check me because I couldn’t get up. He put his hand on my forehead and called the platoon leader back to my position immediately. As soon as the platoon leader got back there I was just about out of it. The last thing I remembered was Doc Word on the radio calling for an immediate medevac. I remember being placed on a makeshift litter made from panchos and rifles and being picked up. After that I simply passed completely out. As I was told later they carried me down to an LZ they could get a chopper in to picke me up and medevaced me to LZ English, the Cav’s forward support base. The next thing I remember was a huge shock to my body. The batallion surgeon had placed me in a rubber lined tub filled with ice, water, and alcohol. I remember trying to get out of that cold and there were four men holding me down in the tub. I remember the medic telling me I couldn’t get out until my fever was under control. It took about an hour to get my fever down to between 102 and 103. Apparently my fever was close to 105 when they got me off the chopper. That’s almost brain damage temp. It was malaria. There are simply times the daily and weekly pills can’t stop it.

Once they got my fever managable they put me on a chopper to go to the 6th Convalscent Center at Cam Rhan Bay. I stayed in one of the wards (wooden buildings with wood half way up and screen the other half) for about a week taking daily quinine to kill the malaria germ. After I had been there for about a week I remember opening my eyes while they were putting me on a litter and take me to an air conditioned Quonset hut across the compound. My fever had spiked up to 104 and they had to get it down until it stabalized. It took about 5 days for the ice baths, air conditioning, and quinine to stabalize. I was then moved over to the 2nd stage of the recovery area where I stayed for about another 4 days. Then I moved into the 3rd stage for a week before They were ready to turn me loose.

In this compound were a bunch of ROK Marines (Republic of Korea) recovering also. Funny thing about those Koreans. Most of them were queer as a three dollar bill. Asians in that part of the world pay no attention to it. It is simply a way of life for them. Of course the American GI’s frowned on the practice to say the least. In the 3rd stage area they were mixed in with the Americans but they were on one end of the building. During the night you could hear the pitter patter of their feet moving from bed to bed on that end of the building. Once in a while they would venture down to the American end of the building. Needless to say we frowned on that. I can remember hearing one moving down the middle of the aisle at about 1 AM. Then I felt some weight on the end of my bunk. Needless to say I spent the rest of the night outside in the sand. I was out of that building in a hurry.

The next day I asked to be returned to my unit because you sure didn’t want to start a fight with one of those ROK’s. They were bad asses. The following day Sgt Pieffier came down in one of our batallion choppers to take me back to our unit. I could have jumped a transport Caribou out of there but for some reason my platoon leader wanted me back as quickly as possible. That wasn’t normal. Had I been a screw up they would have left me to my own devices to get back but Pieffier told me the CO thought I was a good man and wanted me back because apparently I had left a hole in the platoon because I handled the M-79 pretty well. I felt good about that. When I got back to the unit I found I was no longer a PFC (E-3) . I was now a Spec 4 (E-4). I had been promoted in three months which wasn’t too bad.

Malaria was common among the grunts due to the conditions we were in all the time.

That wasn’t the only thing that got me. I had ringworms all over my body once. The only thing you could do for them was take some kind of pill the batallion surgeon sent out for me and try to stay as clean as possible (yeah, right). That was even more common than malaria. I also contracted hookworms once. They are ingested. There were three of us that got them at that time because we were sharing the same can of C’s. They sent us back to English to knock them out. It only took three days. I do remember one hell of a buzz. The medic gave me foru horse capsules to take as soon as I laid down on my bunk. About 10 minutes later I remember seeing his face looking down at me asking if I was feeling the medicine yet. I remember the big smile on his face when he looked at me and said “yup, they’re working”. Hell, I couldn’t move or talk. I was wasted so bad I didn’t even know or care where I was. I can’t even remember the drug but it sure as hell made you hallucinate like crazy. But the fun only lasted for that night. Two nights later I was back humping the boonies.

Then there were the critters and I mean nasty critters. We were set up in a cane field just out side a village one night and I was off guard trying to get some sleep. I heard this horrible rukus coming through the cane field and raised up to grab my weapon because the first thing you think is Charlie penetrated the perimeter. When I raised my head up something hit me like a ton of bricks. I mean, it rang my bell. I heard the next position (M-60) open up on something in front of it. I just dropped my head back down because I felt like Cassius Clay had just hit me with a hard right. I rubbed my cheek and felt something wet. I reached for my field dressing to clean my face off and laid down to go back to sleep. The next morning we were getting our rucksacks packed and Doc Word walked over to me with a big smile on his face and told me to bend over. I thought “what the hell”. Doc told me to feel my face. I had three scratches on my cheek . He said bend over so I did and he gave me a tetnus shot on the spot and grabbed my arm to take me to the next position. Right in front of it was the biggest damned rat I had ever seen. That was what had laid me out running through the cane field. Of course everyone got a kick out of that and didn’t let me forget that incident for a couple months.

The leeches were nasty little critters. When you walked through a rice paddy or across a slow moving stream you would invariably pick up some unwanted guests that wanted to ride on you. When we would take a break or set up for the night you would take a cigarette or some skeeter repellant and knock the little creatures off because they would dig into your skin and you would leave part of them in your skin if you just pulled them off so you had to knock them off with a smoke or bug juice.

Snakes were another problem. We were setting up to take a day’s break from humping in a small three hooch area in the middle of some dry rice paddies. I was getting ready to take a well deserved nap on my air mattress (they were like gold, the only way you got an air mattress was one someone that had one got hit and was medevaced out). We had an Australian reporter humping with us for a couple days. Just as I laid down on my nice comfortable air mattress he brought a machete down across the end of it. I was torqued because he cut my air mattress to shreads. I jumped up and was ready to deck him and he had his hand held up so I didn’t hit him. He then reached down and lifted up part of a snake about 8 inches long. I then thanked him. It was a bamboo pit viper, commonly called a two stepper. He bites you and within two steps you are dead. Nasty little critter.

Another time we were set up on a forward fire support base and Doc was over in the headquarters bunker. Eddie Harris stuck his head in my bunker and said to come on because I had to see this. Doc had killed a 6-7 foot King Cobra in their bunker. There were four of them standing there getting their picture taken holding the snake.

Needless to say, there were many other things we had to fight beside Charlie. The environment was a big obstacle to overcome. Elephant grass would cut the dickens out of you. Wait a minute vines (thorns) would scratch your legs all to hell as you tried to fight your way through them. Sometimes the vegetation was so thick men would have to take turns on point hacking through the jungle making a trail with a machete.

Many different kinds of enemies in the jungle besides man and we had to cope with them all.