It was an impossible mission but there was no other way. Nobody in the company was going to make it up the backside of Hill 975 without getting blown to smithereens no matter how it was done. The first time they’d gone up the back side of the connection plateau had probably worked because NVA forces occupying the outside and inside of the tip of the plateau never dreamed there was a rapid, nearly impossible, way for anyone up there to get back to the bottom unscathed.
I could not take Zippo with me because he was simply too big, and Fusner wasn’t going to be able to move up through the muddy, slippery, dark and forbidding chute wearing a radio, and the other junk he needed to stay in communication. Therefore, he wasn’t necessary. There would be no communication. Nguyen and I would go alone and we could wear nearly nothing. When things were slippery then only slippery worked. Slippery with plunging fingers and digging toes. No boots. No Colt. No M-16. Not even a K-Bar. My biggest worry, after the gnawing fear of going up that chute in the dead of night, was making sure the Army reconnaissance teams located at the top, if they were still alive, would not shoot us on sight, or even without seeing. There had been no fire from or on the top of the hill since the RPG incident claiming Captain Chance’s life, however. It was likely that the force at the top was following radio silence, or only keeping their radios on in a receive mode.
“What about my getting hold of the Army and then the frequency,” Fusner had asked earlier before darkness began to fall. “I can let those guys up there know you’re coming.”
“How?” I’d responded. “In the clear? In some kind of screwy code revealing the chute and our climbing up it in the middle of the night looking like goblins from some bad movie? Radio isn’t going to work and neither is any other form of communication I can think of.”
Fusner had no further comment, but I knew my own answer disturbed him a lot.
We would have to take our chances, and possibly the biggest chance would be in trying to make contact in the middle of the night without getting killed by our own men.
I remembered the base of the chute wasn’t climbable. Nguyen and I prepped for the assault in one of the holes dug and left in our earlier time at the bottom edge of 975. The tributary of water was more swollen than it had been but the elevation of the holes just above it was plenty sufficient to keep the holes fairly dry. Maneuvering the Ontos into a position where it could face the slope sweeping up to the north while remaining close enough to back into the water and allow Marines to cross without rappelling or swimming over was critical. The rain kept its solid-seeming fall onto everything that wasn’t covered while that was going on. The noise of the rain, the mild wind that accompanied it, and the NVA’s own incessant drumming might well be all the cover from passing noise we might need in making the difficult climb.
I used the two different camouflage sticks the Gunny had handed me earlier. One was green and one was dark brown. I used them on my face, neck and then the tops of my hands and arms. Mud would have to do for the rest of my night disguise. Nguyen wore his ancient issue trousers and me my own, stopping short of cutting off the legs simply because I was unlikely to get another pair in short order from one of our most dependable, but strangely laden, resupply flights. Neither of us would wear boots, which was also a difficult decision because I wasn’t climbing up Tantalus Mountain in Hawaii with my old school friends. When we came back down the chute, if we came back down the chute, we would not need boots, as long as we impacted into the rather deep pool at its base.
But up on the mountain? And if circumstances demanded a different descent from the peak, then what? Coming down in bare feet didn’t seem to feel appealing, as I considered the complexity of the whole thing. But, I also knew there was really no consideration to go through. There was going to be no climb up through that messy flowing muck in boots. Nguyen and I were reduced to our primal states. Toes and fingers would dig in and allow slow constant advancement up the hill or they wouldn’t. There was no chance that flat-soled boots, or even if we had the new cleated jungle boots, would allow for the depth penetration it was going to take to dig and move upward, repeating the process all the way up.
“This is a stupid mission and an even dumber plan than the ones you’ve come up with before,” the Gunny hissed into my right ear. “They have Army back up, Army air and Army units up and down this forsaken valley.”
I picked up my web belt, wrapped into a ball around Tex’s .45 and handed it to him, followed by my damaged helmet. My insides weren’t quaking but I was filled with inner terror. My hands were shaking but it was thankfully growing too dark to see them. It was the curdling fear that ate at me. I knew the Gunny was right, but there was no alternative, except pulling what we’d pulled back in my first days of combat. We could violate our orders and say we went up the hill, and then sit at the bottom and wait it out. Even that, given the fact that we were almost totally surrounded, wasn’t viable. The Army guys were up there in silence and in deep trouble, they didn’t have a clue about. We could not do anything. Assaulting the hill with the full brunt of the company would cost us half of the company, or more, and that assault could not be done at night. Only the Ontos could provide any supporting fire on the surfaces of the slope, and it was limited in range for its mightily effective beehive rounds, not to mention it was the night. Chance’s death weighed heavily upon me, and my shoulders slumped slightly in the dark, as I stood there. The movement was almost imperceptible but not to Nguyen.
The slight, but whipcord tough Montagnard leaned into me, and then pushed something harshly into my mouth before I grasped what he was doing. I choked and would have spit the substance out except Nguyen had his left hand covering my mouth and his right behind my neck.
“Chew,” I thought he said, followed by some Vietnamese words I didn’t understand.
I chewed slowly, and then almost wretched, as some of the bitter liquid squeezed out from whatever solid Nguyen had shoved in my mouth, flowed down my throat.
“Don’t do that shit,” the Gunny said.
I wasn’t sure whether he was talking to Nguyen or me. My hands grabbed Nguyen’s but he held on for dear life, his reflecting, but otherwise invisible, eyes eating into my own, only inches away from his face.
“Chew,” he commanded.
“That’s Betel Nut,” the Gunny said, with a sigh, letting me know that he was talking to me, and not the seemingly crazy Montagnard. “That’s what the villagers chew. Turns their teeth purple before they all fall out. Crazy shit.”
Nguyen released my mouth and neck and backed away. He pointed downward. I understood immediately that he meant for me to spit whatever it was out on the ground. I did so, only then realizing that I could spit. Only minutes earlier my mouth had been so dry with fear that spitting would have been impossible. I spit several times, saliva flowing like mad. All of a sudden my body was infused with an energy I hadn’t felt since landing in Vietnam. I breathed deeply in and out, the night seemed to come alive around me. And then it hit me. I was afraid of what we were about to do. However, I didn’t have that core of terror running up and down my center anymore. It was just gone. And I had energy. I wanted to move, no matter where that movement took me. I had to move.
The Gunny, Zippo, Fusner, Nguyen and I made our way back where water fell down from the falls that indicated the bottom of the chute sticking out above us. There was plenty of thick plant growth along both sides of the sluice coming down. I chose the eastern side to begin working up through simply because it was closer. I said nothing to anyone because there was nothing to say and also because I was suddenly consumed to get to the top of the hill. Without boots the early going was hard. I had to make sure nothing penetrated the skin on the bottoms of my feet. I’d been in wet boots for a long time, and I lacked the thick calloused pads I’d enjoyed from running around the Hawaiian Islands barefoot.
The climb wasn’t so much of a climb as it was a sinuously winding upward digging crawl, back and forth, from one side of the denser jungle growth to the other. We had to take the rather narrow chute as an off-road vehicle would switchback up a slope, to lessen the degree directly in front of it. The movement wasn’t nearly as laborious as it was slow. The constant rain provided plenty of noise for cover, beating down on the upper parts of the foliage like tiny feathering beats on a million snare drums. Nguyen was there but it was too black to see him, and my own movement dampened almost any chance for external sounds penetrating. Could the NVA be so well positioned and alert enough that it could observe our entry onto the surface of the chute, just above the drop-off, I wondered? If fired upon, and not immediately hit, there would be no defensive return fire from Nguyen or I. There would only be one course of action if we were attacked on the way up, and that course was very obvious. Back down the chute would be the only choice we had with any chance for life in it, only this time the transit would be with the likelihood that grenades would accompany our wild ride down.
I knew I was going to be covered with leeches all over, but I didn’t care. In fact, I noted almost absently, as I carefully climbed until I could move over onto the surface of the chute itself, I didn’t care about much of anything except not writing home enough. Was I losing my distant touch with the only thing in the world that mattered? Had I written earlier and was that letter in my pocket as I climbed? I didn’t know. I hadn’t even checked. Once I’d chewed the Betel Nut everything had changed. I dug into the mud just to the side of me and made my entry out onto the very surface of the chute. And then I smiled with what I knew was one of the few genuine smiles I’d generated in all of my time in combat. I was suddenly in a bit of home.
My feet sank down inches into the muck and my toes curled to gain traction, while my fingers reached out forward and just above me. I moved upward in a catlike spider sort of animal wending motion. My feet and hands took over, as I traversed back and forth across and up into the chute, the limits of the foliage on either side of the thick leaves and mud and my movement ever upward were my only directors. I cared if Nguyen was behind me, but I didn’t care at the same time. The climb was a personal thing. I was climbing for Chance. I was performing a climb with a bit more sense than his own actions had demonstrated and I was climbing up to get his men. The three yellow rope ends played back and forth in front of me, not real, but then nothing except the mud, leaves, and rain were real. The distant drums, still barely audible, were sounds made, as if by some distant Hollywood special effects outfit. They beat to spur me on. They beat to assure that my own heartbeat was still beating with them.
I’d decided to keep my watch. I knew that the mud covering me might not be effective at blocking every glint of light that might glint from the watches more reflective surfaces, but I felt it was a vital tool Nguyen and I could not do without. We were on a night climb and dawn was our worst enemy. I made twenty sinuous slithering moves, and then looked at the face of the instrument. The tiny luminous hands, gleaming gently through the crud on its face, told me that the moves had taken about five minutes. The hill was, based on that guess, a five-hour climb, and that’s if we didn’t tire from the continuous energy-consuming effort of having to move every second of every minute while in the chute.
I finally stopped, my breathing coming slow but deep and hard. The work was suddenly almost too much. I didn’t look at my watch because I didn’t want to see what it showed. The top would be the top and we’d know it when we got there. There was nothing else. Nguyen pulled his way up to my side. I didn’t turn my head to look directly at him, although I knew the glistening rain made him partially visible right next to me.
This time he didn’t force the Betel Nut into my mouth. He held the drug to my lips and I immediately grasped it in and bit down. The bitter juice flowed once more. I didn’t spit. I chewed and chewed until the energy came back. And it did. Whatever was in the nut had a magical power that I knew had to be illegal and addictive back home. Not only might I become an addict but my teeth might turn purple and all fallout, according to the Gunny. Finally, I spit the remnants of the nut husk down into the mud only inches from my face. I wondered if Nguyen was chewing the Betel too but I wasn’t interested enough to attempt to find out. I went back at the mud with my talons extended and biting in. There was no smile this time, even though the idiocy of worrying about my living long enough to become a drug addict deserved one.
The top end of the chute didn’t end with any drama. The mud just seemed to dry up and my fingers and toes dug into bits of bracken but then bit into the hard ground. I uneasily and weakly got up on my hands and knees. Nguyen pulled me back down. I had to think clearly, I realized. We were a long way from being in any safe position. The most dangerous part of the plan was upon us. How to make contact with a very deadly, but horribly inexperienced, unit of special forces troops on guard against attack in the middle of the night. In a jungle. In a jungle filled with beating drums, blowing triple canopy tree growth and densely falling rain.
Nguyen and I both began to inch forward together, threading our way through a loosely held bamboo thicket. There was nothing on the other side, but there was almost no visibility to see anyone, friend or enemy if there was anybody there. I wanted to whisper out and identify ourselves as Marines, but I knew that was beyond foolish. The one known element of our mission up the hill was that the mountain was run through with tunnels and alive NVA troops filling those tunnels.
We lay still, trying to catch the slightest of sounds or recognize anything familiar, only inches ahead of us in the night. But there was nothing. I rubbed my hands up and down my arms, leeches falling away immediately as I did so. I marveled. Was it the Betel Nut coming out of my skin, I wondered. Leeches never just fell away. Leeches bit instantly and hung on. It was what they did to survive. But there was no time to consider. Nguyen punched me on the right shoulder, before sliding one of his hands to take mine. He pulled me toward him, and then placed my hand on something soft, with wet clothing on top of it. My mind recoiled slightly but my hand did not. I was touching part of a human body. We had to know more. I moved closer and began exploring upward until I got to the body’s upper chest. I felt the “T” shirt under the blouse just under its neck. The body was one of our own. The NVA didn’t wear undershirts, and neither did seasoned American combat troops. Undergarments simply didn’t work out in the field, not in the jungle, anyway. I rolled the body slightly. The man was wearing a Prick 25 radio. There were no lights to indicate it was functional, or on. I didn’t have Fusner to operate the thing for me and, even if I had, there was no way I was going to say anything out into the deadly night we were in.
Nguyen and I moved forward coming upon more bodies. Whether all of the army units that had been flown in were dead at the top of Hill 975 was unknown, but it was obvious to me that all the Americans who’d landed had been taken care of, just like the even larger force before. I caught hold of Nguyen’s arm and squeezed. I motioned my head back toward the entrance to the chute. We had only one chance to get down. My watch said it was three in the morning. There was nothing to be accomplished by remaining on the summit. Chance’s men had followed him into Valhalla, or wherever death had taken them. There was nothing we could do except try not to go and join them. Without light and some understanding of what had happened, it was impossible under the conditions to tell what had killed them.
Slowly we both turned and began a slow crawl back the way we’d come, or as close as we could tell in the night. We moved slower than when we’d come in. It was more important than ever not to be detected. We were in enemy territory and that had been fatally proven over and over again. I felt immense relief when I crawled through the loose bamboo thicket. I knew it had to be the same one. Most bamboo clumps or thickets were too dense to move through at all.
I stopped, and Nguyen instantly stopped with me. We lay flat and unmoving together. Something had been added to the elements that had subtly changed the area we’d come through earlier. I couldn’t make out what it was at first. I pulled Nguyen’s bare arm closer until his body was only inches from my own. When I could faintly see his facial features, I sniffed my nose repeated, as quietly and quickly as I could. Nguyen’s body stiffened. He smelled it too. The smell of cigarette smoke. American cigarette smoke. The Army guys were dead. The NVA had gone through their things and found America cigarettes and not been disciplined enough to avoid using them.
We both lay watching and listening. There were no telltale red dots of burning ash. There were only the tendrils of smoke drifting by, invisible except to our noses. The NVA were not only there and up, they were all around and among us. I couldn’t believe we’d crawled through the Army unit and back without being discovered.
It was also obvious that the NVA knew about the chute and were stationed at its head. But what were they waiting for? To think that they might have thought that two men of the opposing force would crawl up the chute in the middle of the night was beyond comprehension. If that was the case, then where had they been when we exited the top earlier? I couldn’t figure it out, but I knew it also didn’t matter. If the NVA knew we were there among them, then they’d be doing a lot more than smoking, I realized. Once again there really weren’t any options. We had to get into the chute and down. The distance to the softer mud was possibly no more than fifteen yards I thought, but what if I was wrong? I tried to clear my head of the Betel Nut drug and think clearly. It finally came to me. It didn’t matter. Nguyen and I had to exit the bamboo thicket, get up and then run forward for all we were worth. The chute would take care of everything else. There was no need to dive into it or onto its surface. Once in the slippery grasp of the dead fern fronds, old fallen leaves, mud and water that would be it. We were unarmed, so there was no need to protect our armament or position
I looked over at Nguyen, wondering what he was thinking, hoping he was thinking what I was thinking. I nodded once and then looked in the direction we came from when we’d climbed the chute. I held up three fingers in front of his eyes. He looked at them and then back at me. I made a fist, looked toward where I hoped the top of the chute was, and then back. I rose up slowly to a crouch. Nguyen rose with me. I held up one finger and nodded, and then my second. On the third extension, I turned and ran like hell away from the bamboo thicket.
The shooting was instant but seemingly all over the place. I saw flashes as I ran, but I wasn’t on my feet very long before the chute claimed me. I was down, face first, and plunging back into the terror of night, but not with deeper terror inside me. I was leaving a lot of that behind, as my speed picked up and I began hitting the curves and bumps along the way.
Instead of shooting into the very blackest of the night and trying to traverse properly to get hits at targets impossible to see, I would have presumed that the NVA would have used explosives of one kind or another to hit us. Although the thick leaves and mud of the chute would absorb most of the concussion and fragmentation from grenades, some of the effects might have been telling or even terminal. Sending their own men down the nightmare of some Disneyland ride invented by a sick horror movie character made no sense, but the NVA rode with us, and they’d obviously, from their sounds, never done it before. I felt Nguyen jolting and slamming around just ahead of me in the chute. The noises, grunts, groans and near screams of the slipping and falling NVA troops behind didn’t cause me as much fear as consternation. What were they doing? They were no longer shooting and there were no explosions or flashes of fire. What could be their plan in coming down the chute after us? Only the Gunny and our company of Marines waited at the bottom of the chute, and they would be there crouching down, prepared to receive us, as we cascaded from atop the fifteen-foot cliff and down into the pool the chute ended over.
The ride down was longer than I remembered but I knew that might be tempered by the effects of the Betel Nut or the fact that I had no idea just how big the force was plummeting down the chute behind us, or if the Gunny would be able to deal with them when they flew through the air and landed in his lap.
Jim] Have you read [when heaven and earth changed places] Le ly Hayslip a great reed.I would like to hear from some combat vets that has read her works.Shes like you in not leaving anything out from being a vc to screwing a couple of marines for some good money to help her escape from the hell she was going through. I’m still in the woods every morning trying to kill some turkeys.I come back every morning waiting on the next chapter.Had Judie back in the hospital for a weak but now back home and getting stronger.All I got for now so get back to work.Semper fi OL;Om
I like the part about you being in the woods trying to kill turkeys that are alluding you! Like he old days.
Thanks for the writing and the thoughts you send my way…
Your friend,
jim
LT…I’m confused on he hill numbers. In one chapter it is 975, later you said hill 974.
Great writing and great story
You very well should have been confused.
I made an error in writing the past couple chapters without being around the staff.
It was Hill 975 as shown on the map.
Thank you for your support
Semper Fi
Jim
When is the next chapter coming?
Working on getting one a week completed, if all goes well.
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim] If your dead ignore this post otherwise get back to writeing.Turkey season is about over and jude is much better.Hope all is ok with you. OL;OM
I am not dead yet, Omer. But here I am writing away on the next segment and back to you.
Semper fi, my good friend…
Jim
I haven’t commented in a while but who the hell wasn’t scared especially if you walked or crawled through the bush like we did. You writing about going back up that hill brought back so many memories of trying to going up hills during the monsoon. One step forward and three back. Falling down the hills with a 90lb ruck wasn’t any fun.I will say I think that fear helped me control it later on in my life. I spent over 18yrs in Law Enforcement after my military service. I saw a lot of shit in those years also but I wasn’t really scared when shit was happening. It was after everything was over and I got to thinking what could of happened is when the fear hit. Lot different when I was in Nam. Me like most of your readers read and reread your episodes and of course all the comments. It’s nice to see how well you have connected with the Vets and non Vets on here. Keep up the great work and we are anxiously awaiting for the next episode.
Now that’s a deep and significant comment Gordon. Revealing of your own service over there, of course but the words of truth so filling the paragraph.
I read it three times and finally took it all in. Brother.
Semper fi,
Jim
Doesn’t sound like the A Shau Valley was rock ape habitat.
Now, I don’t really know what to make of that comment but it’s cool, nevertheless.
There rock apes was a phrase that floated around the AO BUT NOT ONE i used or had much exposure too…
Semper fi,
Jim
They are large aggressive and territorial monkeys. I’ve heard various accounts of them screaming at night outside fire bases. Fredrick Downs, in his memoir, The Killing Zone, describes what his platoon thought was a VC attack only to find the next morning that they had shot up a bunch of rock apes.
Wow. The attack of the rock apes. Never heard of that but what the hell?
Strange shit went on in that jungle, especially at
night…
Semper fi,
Jim
They had rock apes up on Monkey Mountain in DaNang. Naval Support Activities had a camp at the bottom of the mountain (Camp TienShaw). I was a SeaBee working on a rock crusher up on the top of the mountain. (MCB-5) !966. The apes were short and stocky. About 400 pounds. The perimeter lights would draw them in at night and a few got shot. They were quite aggressive if you got too close. And yes, they would throw rocks back at you when we tried to scare them away. lol
Thanks Jerry for the compliment of your writing on here. I never dealt with the rock apes but heard about them later on.
Thanks for the material and putting it up for all of us to read.
Semper fi,
Jim
Your recounting of the accent of that hill to find the soldiers brought back a flood of memories. The day president Nixon ordered the bombing of Hanoi and hyphong my ship was U.S. Hamner DD214 was lane guarding the carrier when commander Moss crashed in hyphong harbor. None 0f the300 men on board gave a second thought to saving him. When he was on board being rushed to sick bay he looked like a drowned rat and I wont foreget the 100yd stare. His wife sent a care package to everyone on board, if they read this on behalf of my fellow sailors thank you.
Thank you, Alan, so much for your rendition of what happened to you aboard the DD214.
Funny name for a ship!
Anyway, sounds like the commander was on lucky hombre to have your guys on hand to pull him out.
Semper fi,
Jim
USS Hamner was DD718
Oh, okay. When I was the DD214 I started to laugh at the coincidence of that. It would be just like the Navy.
Thanks for the correction…
Semper fi,
Jim
After my third reading, what if at least a few of those suprised NVA following you down the chute were a few surviving special forces left over from the slaughter on the top of that hill.
Read on!!!
Semper fi, and thanks for the interest….
Jim
Can’t read on when we are still waiting or the next chapter! Any ideal when it will be posted?
As usual, there you are right at the gate, waiting for it to swing open and the stallion run free.
I am working on it.
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
Im assuming the fallen on top the hill were done in without a firefight or was it to far away to hear gunfire? Most intense reading ever i shouldnt hav had that last cup of coffee i feel like i need some beetlnutt
Thanks for the terrific compliment in your words here Justin!
Much appreciate and helps me get on with it…
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim] I’m a beliver that as most of us that enlisted at 17 or 18 brouth the rath of God down on us because of our own naivety.Call me stupid but my hope was to go to nam and kill the commies none of us were aware of the reality that lay ahead of us.Its like most of life the only trouble in life is the trouble we voluntarily brough on ourselves.I told both of my boys that went to Afganistan an Iraq not to do what they coluldnt live with later in life.My old company commander got the 2 books you sent.He made it through two tours.He said its been a great read. semper fi omer
Thanks Omer. Hope your old C.O. enjoys the read, as indicated. You are a force here and in a lot of lives Omer.
Love you man…
Semper fi,
Jim
of all the shit i did in nam for the 5 months until i was wia i always had a weapon with me, even when sneaking a 4 hr r and r in a off limits village i carried a knife and my friend his by default highly illegal .45. that means holes, rafter spaces, pissing in the jungle, wtf ever. fortune being whatever it is I never met, heard of or assumed anyone could experince this much (convulted?) combat, so far in less then 30 days. however i do enjoy your story, you can tell an engaging story.
James, that’s a pretty interesting analogy…your comment about the comments and the potential meaning of them. Another, more detailed and living
version of the wall. Lots and lots of silent warriors, like on the wall, not commenting but taking in all the comments made. Picking and choosing between
those they might think are valid and real and those that are only close or not at all…And there’s a strange responsibility I (and Chuck) have to respect
and continue that. Whom could ever have predicted back when the first comments were made, or that accidental nature of how I was writing the segments, putting
them up for the vets who can’t afford to buy stuff, and then receiving a running commentary not only of experiences over there but of advice and counsel on what
I might be writing next. This is so different.
Semper fi, and thanks,
Jim
Sorry James, I made the wrong reply to your comment! I have no idea now why I went up the hill unarmed, or than the simple fact that if I was discovered
I was either going to make it down the chute again or be dead. And being ‘naked’ was the most likely success strategy to follow. When in doubt; run!
Thanks for some of your own experience and for writing this deep a comment on here.
Semper fi,
Jim
Hello Sir. I always enjoy reading these chapters. Really excellent writing. You have a way of putting the reader right in the moment. Also, I can’t thank you enough for your service.
Thanks, Elijah, for commenting like that on here.
I am working away to present things that happened with as much reality
as possible while doing so in an interesting way.
And doing so with the idea that I can keep on enjoying the life I have.
Thanks for the comment and the compliment.
Semper fi,
Jim
“blowing” triple canopy ?? Might of meant “billowing”, I don’t know. No big deal as it’s the only question I could find this time as to editing.
Anyway ~ Holy chit !! Never figured the NVA would be chasing you down the chute, and there you are without so much as a P-38 to defend yourself with !!!
Another captivating read with your patented cliff-hanger ending, thanks for the telling James, carry on – can’t wait !!
SEMPER Fi
It was a remarkably strange situation.
It feels even stranger to write about going anywhere unarmed over there
than it did to actually do it.
What good was a weapon going to do me? If I was found out I was dead anyway.
Like the Army guys. Thanks for the great comment and the help with editing…
Semper fi,
Jim
During a break between operations I went with several other Marines to a theater in Danang where we watched “The Green Berets”, staring John Wayne. We thought it was hilarious, a really good comedy until they came under mortar attack. We finally realized that we could feel the concussions from the explosions and that Danang was under rocket attack.
Astounding coincidence to have happened. I heard about other strange stories about movie stars visiting the troops in Da Nang.
But I never made it to the rear to experience anything myself. Bob Hope was a legend, of course. Steve McQueen too…
Semper fi,
Jim
Martha Raye made many trips to RVN and to remote SF camps. So much so that she was made an honorary Lt. Col.. Apparently Col. Maggie cut quite the figure in her tiger stripes.
She wore tiger stripes? I wasn’t aware of any tiger stripe uniform but maybe the South Vietnamese had them.
Lots of stars came. I got to spend personal time with Raquel Welch in San Franscisco and she was quite wonderful, although
that was back here. Ann Margaret came to the hospital too but I never saw her.
Thanks for the comment,
Semper fi,
Jim
Neat to hear you had the opportunity to spend time with Raquel Welch. The cost of admission to that meeting was rather high (in terms of physical trauma inflicted by the NVA) I guess.
Tiger stripe fatigues were worn by SF folks while on operations. It was the standard uniform of the Civilian Irregular Defense Group (CIDG) who manned the SF camps. Companies were identified by different neckerchiefs using a combination of two colors from red, white, & blue. Mike Force had all three colors.
Examples of tiger stripe fatigues. These guys are from Mike Force. Pics taken at An Loc SF camp April ’67
http://oldspooksandspies.org/Photos/Cotts/Scan1613.jpg
http://oldspooksandspies.org/Photos/Cotts/Scan1614.jpg
Two guys on right wearing tiger stripes.
Following pic taken at Duc Hoa SF camp Sept ’67
http://oldspooksandspies.org/Photos/Cotts/Scan1632.jpg
I believe some LRRPs also wore tiger stripes while on patrol.
I had a scrounged set. Wish I still had them. However, they just barely fit me then.
I’ve heard they were manufactured in Thailand.
Good grief, Dan! Thank you ever so much for the research and then the revelations. I only had my small corner of the Nam for
life experience. I sure am glad you are here and writing on this site!!!
Semper fi,
Jim
James, I am learning so much from everything you write plus the comments of others. Thank you! Just my small part to a group endeavor. No research this time. Just pics I took at some of the places I stayed. Add to what I learned while in country about 1983 I began reading about RVN. Read maybe 50 books over several years then gave them away. Years later repeated the exercise with new books. Lot of history. Lot of detail as folks told of their experience.
Thanks, Dan, for being interested enough to pursue your study, especially when it comes to my work, of course.
Thanks for putting down what you think on this site too.
The other vets are pretty wonderful on here…
Semper fi,
Jim
Hey Jim,
3rd Marines, I Corps. My rear base was about 11 miles north of Danang. In one of the villages we went through every now and then, there was a villager who would make you a custom set of tiger stripes along with a bush hat. The cost, two cartons of Salem cigarettes. Cost of smokes in the rear, $1.50 a carton. I had a set made and at the end of my tour, brought them home. I finally gave them away to another Marine who did ship duty off the coast but never got boots on the ground.
That is such a cool story. I had no idea. where in hell did they get the material?
But the Vietnamese were, and remain, most inventive and innovative…and hard-working as hell.
Thanks for the back story here…
Semper fi,
Jim
Yee Hah jumping out of frying pan into the fire and back into the pan. Wow
Yes, it was all of that Bill, through my entire stay or service or whatever the hell I might call it…
Semper fi,
Jim
Hi James,
I’ve been reading your story since almost day one of postings.
I recently Re read the series from day one and it occurred to me how smooth it flowed from chapter to chapter. I don’t think that people who buy the books and can read them through will understand and appreciate just how damnded good you are at leaving a cliff hanger…….as I read the last sentence of this chapter my mind goes to the dukes of hazard and Waylon Jennings voice saying “ will Junior and Nguyen be killed by the NVA..? will the Gunny light them up by accident or to preserve the company ? STAY TUNED…!
Just Wow!
Now that is one great long compliment and I am so happy that you are not only happy but able to articulate the detail of how the writing
makes you feel. Authors like me never really know. Without this site I wouldn’t really have much of a clue. But, thank God, there are
some people like you who can do such a great job responding that it gives heart to somebody like me. The people like you commenting on
here have as much to do with the books coming to completion as I do!!!
Semper fi, and thank you so much.
Jim
“I rubbed my hands up and down my arms, leeches falling away immediately as I did so. I marveled. Was it the Betel Nut coming out of my skin, I wondered. Leeches never just fell away.” In February 1966 we spent a couple of weeks in a valley just west of Bong Son. I forget the name of the valley now, though I’m sure I have it written down someplace. There was us, a large VC unit, and the leeches — so in my mind I’ve always called it leech valley. I can remember sitting on my steel pot and watching leeches as thin as bobby pins scenting me out and come crawling to get on my boot whereupon I sprayed them with my mosquito repellent and with great glee watched them dissolve. They had outmaneuvered me,though, as some had dropped down from overhead and gotten down my neck while I was preoccupied. Every day we retook the hills we had already previously taken and every day the battle with the leeches also continued. I recall one day feeling something down low on my legs, so I pulled my pants legs out of my boots and out of each pants leg fell a number of leeches, no longer thin as bobby pins, but as big around, or perhaps bigger, than my little fingers. Without me knowing it they had filled themselves up until satiated and then they had fallen off to rest where my pants legs met my boots. I crushed them with my boot and they popped, spurting my blood out.
Funny, how that horror could become so commonplace down in that valley. The fear of getting killed so much bigger that
such seemingly lessor evils become just another part of everyday life. The leeches were awful and I will never get over them
entirely. Sometimes I still rub my neck or lower legs, absently searching for what I consciously know could not be there…
Semper fi, and thanks for the truth in your words and the great description.
Jim
Thanks for this last segment, sir. I’d spend the next 2 days thinking. If there was a way to convey the insight revealed by the circumstance. And then I’d recall an earlier comment to the river Styx. There, the ferry man collects for a one-way ticket. The last debt to be PIF. How does one return to tell a tale of survival? You play the unexpected wild card. You don’t think, you feel! Nguyen knew the surest way to die was to have a doubtful thought. The betel bark requires only action after it removes useless thought.You Lt., honored your duty to orders and then threw down the unexpected by moving the ferry man to the shore from whence you came. You paid your toll for the way up…and left the scythe in the Gunnys hands to collect from those unprepared to pay for their own one way ticket, let alone the other half of the round trip ticket you earned! Semper Fi
Dennis, do you teach philosophy and literature in college? Wow, what a symbol filled comment. So complex but so brilliant.
Thanks, I think! Nice to read and to think about…the usual Dennis Hayes stuff from such a boundless source of intellect and expression…
Thank you!!!
Semper fi,
Jim
Good response – after reading the post multiple times I am convinced this is a talented person. Another example of how unique these comments are.
Thanks for the ‘talented’ comment and compliment Bob. And the comments are so unique in delivery and I try to make
them unique in that I give thought and consideration to each one and then try to respond accordingly…
Semper fi,
Jim
Thanks for for that, Jim. I had a couple of influential english teachers. Ms.Ida Wood and Mr.James Dupratt one following the other respectively, in both my freshman years! Anywho, they both plied a little more from their students with classic reads put up against the moment we were in the year the pirates won the series and the year I began to appreciate green tea!…I’m sure they were both, every bit of your gracious compliment, which I appreciate so much, on their behalf and mine, given by someone like yourself who is changing lives and perspectives, simultaneously. Semper fi
I go all the way back to the knuckle and head smacking Maryknoll nuns for the foundation in
writing. They demanded and I came through. I had to. I still see the sisters out there in front
of me or maybe just over my shoulder sometimes. They did not like profanity at all. They did not
like breaks from the acceptable Chicago Style english presentation. Etc. etc. and you know.
It worked, as apparently and evidently your own background allowed you to be as successfully expressive as your
writing denotes.
Semper fi,
Jim
“And then I smiled with what I knew was one of the few genuine smiles I’d generated in all of my time in combat. I was suddenly in a bit of home.” it was strangely refreshing to know that no one else was dependant on you for this job..you could live or die and no one else would be the worse for it..Nguyen would be alright..no matter what happened….and you really didn’t care which way the dice rolled..you just had to try….the passion…the drums beating out the rythmic beat that coincided with your heart beat…and it calmed you…and it drove you at the same time…it was like “dancing’ up the chute…small movements in time with the drums….you were truly ‘dancing to a different drummer’… the first few times you see the toothless smiles of the elders with their beet red gums you draw back in silent revulsion…and pity ….and then after a while you realize that those same elders always had a smile on their face…fake or not…it was there….made you wonder if the Betal nut was their “happy juice’…and of course…it was…. Semper Fi Lt…
This could only have been written by master writer Larry Goldsmith.
What a tour de force. Man can you write.
And the inclusion of so much
of life from another perspective but directed down the same avenues.
Great stuff here Larry. Thanks for putting it up on this site.
Thanks for caring that much…
Semper fi,
Jim
Like you LT, I only saw one little bitty piece of this war. I have read numerous books, trying to learn more about the big picture. I also watched the PBS series, with mixed emotions, but did learn a couple of things. Your telling of your little bitty piece of the war is spell binding. I also have the utmost respect for all participants, even the REMFS. We all had a job to do. Anxiously awaiting the next segment.
Thanks Ron. Yes, war is indeed a sliced up affair with thousands of men serving nearby but having no clue about what most others are doing.
We can only guess where we think about it at all. My books, I hope, remove a little of that mystery for so many. I hope. Thanks for the great meaningful comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
As I have said before this is one fantastic, on the edge of my seat story. I was a Marine from 70 to 75 but I never fought. Your story helps me understand better what some of my friends have tried to tell me about.
Rick
It is a difficult thing to come to grips with, the reality of combat under close conditions.
When down in the valley jungle all I could wish for was combat somewhere out in the open,
where I might be able to at least see or hear danger coming.
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim,
I’ve enjoyed the several chapters that I have read. I am a two tour (1966-67 & 1969-70), Army helicopter pilot, who spent both tours in III Corps. I am an Army brat, grew up at West Point, and was an Infantry officer before flight school. I was there for a lot of the multi division operations of 1966-67 in III Corps and , when I had enough experience to actually see what was going on I could not understand why we did not pursue the VC/NVA into Cambodia. The Cambodians did not control the border area with S. Vietnam, the VC/NVA did. They let the Cambodians occupy a few “forts” as long as they were not a problem. The VC/NVA would hit, or get hit, pull back across the border, refit, rearm, and be back in a month or so. By the time I left in ’67 I was somewhat pessimistic about the war, but, being a “Lifer” I knew it was going to be a large part of my life. After that first tour, I went to Ft. Rucker as an Attack Helicopter instructor pilot. I still had reservations, which I kept to myself, unless asked what I thought. When I went back in 1969 I was fortunate to get command of a training team for the OH-6A (LOH) in a very secure area in III Corps. We were very busy and when, in 1970, we went into Cambodia I thought finally. We kicked their ass, at least the ones that stayed, and the rest went even deeper into Cambodia. The reaction in the U.S. surprised me and when we pulled out I knew we were not going to win this war. The Vietnamization plan only convinced me more and in 1970 I resigned my Commission. I could not believe we were going to walk away after all the lives and treasure we had invested. I strongly believe that we could have prevailed there. But not by fighting the war like we did. I see the same situations in Afghanistan, Iraq, and now Syria.
Thanks for the terrific and informative comment, Robert.
Yes, I could not agree with you more.
It was so easy to predict what was
going to happen in Iraq and Afghanistan but now, in light of having worked for the CIA,
I understand that we did not continue to commit the mistakes of Vietnam by accident.
There are forces inside the USA unfortunately that want these disasters to occur and to continue to occur.
They don’t go and their kids don’t go.
But they make the money….and that there it is.
Semper fi, and thanks again,
Jim
Thank you sir, you’ve help with my fear, the fear that never leaves. I can’t erase, your bourbon of thought helps more than you know.
Hyper-vigilance is what the counselors now call that fear.
That shivering thing that either lays there in wait or crawls up and down the spine if
more active fear is called for.
Hyper-vigilance sounds much braver, kinder and can be said over breakfast!
Semper fi, and thank you for the high compliment…
Jim
LT…I was too young for Vietnam, 13 years old when we withdrew, but I remember growing up thinking I would be drafted and have to go. I had an uncle that served 3 tours. I believe he ended up in SpecOps, and may have spent time as a tunnel rat. He was awarded a couple of Bronze Stars that sound fairly generic, which makes think the activities for the award were classified. His time there and my vivid memories of news reports has sparked continual interest in war stories from Vietnam. I enlisted later in the AF and did 11 years AD then later joined the AF Reserves. I am a medic. I have deployed twice to the middle east with no experiences close to yours or others. I am thankful for that, but regretful that I wasn’t where I could have done more. So, I immerse myself in stories such as your to try and understand better. Thank you for your service and for sharing.
I am glad that you did not die for your country, which is mostly what happens to the guys actually going into the shit.
The decorations?
When you make it through combat and get home you really really really really really don’t give a shit about
decorations.
None of them are real.
All are someone else’s opinions of what you did and generally are laughably inaccurate and made up.
So there.
Tons of them went to the rear area guys who also could do a better job of telling stories about them
and actually living with them.
Mine are in the basement inside a locker inside a plastic bag…
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim] To my best memory combat pay for enlisted was 65 dollars a mo. my pfc pay was 97.50.I was shiten in tall cotton with that much money coming in and you kept the combat pay if medivact to the states for 6 mo. Ill google it to be sure.I saved most of my money sending it home only finding out that my brother spent it on a new kid.I was lucky enough to get into da nang once and got laid for 2.50 and had a hot meal.gotta go before it gets too light outside its almost 5am. semper fi OL”OM
Thank you Omer. My memory of 44 bucks a month may not be accurate. I do remember that it continued for awhile after I was in the hospital.
Pay from combat to home was terrible back then. My wife had a helluva time getting anything at all until I was stateside myself. Thanks for
the update on your personal life.
Semper fi,
my friend,
Jim
Jazuz H, betle nuts are available on Amazon, the Lt’s publisher, and there’s tons of information about them.
Schizophrenia. Early research suggests that betel nut might be helpful for schizophrenia. Some patients with schizophrenia who chew betel nut seem to have less severe symptoms. You just know somebody’s going to get a Government grant to study betle nut chewing.
Not that anybody in the Nam ever experienced schizophrenia though.
Known side effects (like the crawl on TV) Chewing betel nut can make your mouth, lips, and stool turn red. It can cause stimulant effects similar to caffeine and tobacco use. It can also cause more severe effects including vomiting, diarrhea, gum problems, increased saliva, chest pain, abnormal heart beats, low blood pressure, shortness of breath and rapid breathing, heart attack, coma, and death.
Betle also seems to be a recreational drug for some folks these days.
I think I’ll just let it sit for some other willing user.
Yes, SCPO, there is a ton of information available about this drug now. I never see much of anything about what the
drug in the plant really is unless it is a unique alkaloid. Thanks for the research and, of course, the side effects.
I don’t think you can go out and buy betel nut much of anywhere so it is likely to stay quiet in most of the U.S.
Semper fi,
Jim
Lt, I was in the lottery but just missed the draft so never had to go. Your story reflects what I heard from those I knew who did go. Not only do I read the comments of others and your replies but I go back time and time again to read the newer comments as they are posted. Great work!
Thank you Don P.
So do I.
Read the comments unerringly.
All 13,825 of them.
I answer each and every one that Chuck does not handle (he will do the smaller edits and also answer some questions).
I am not sure, as of this date, which is the more important.
The writing of the story or the quantity and quality of the comments.
Tough call. I’ve never seen anything like it, not that it matters.
I too, come aboard all the time to check to see the new comments.
It’s nice to have company in doing that.
I don’t feel like it is my site. I feel like it is our site…
Semper fi,
Jim
I still believe that you should publish them somehow. Maybe as a stand alone book 4. I would be willing to pre buy several copies to pass out with the books I bought.
These comments are too valuable, and too much a part of the story to be buried on on the website.
We are going to do just that Rob. Publish a book of the comments. I don’t have a clue where that will go but I am willing to throw a few
bucks at it. Thanks for thinking in sync with us here…
Semper fi
Jim
Perhaps you could pull a “Paul Harvey” and call it “Thirty Days Has September, The Rest Of The Story”
I always loved and hated Paul Harvey. What a strange and effective delivery. What a strange man, when it was all said and done.
Thanks for the comparison. I guess I have my moments.
Semper fi,
Jim
Just woke up from a deep sleep with the realization with what these comments represent.
They are no less than a living version of the wall. They are the stories of the warriors who went to war and returned.
Maybe I am being too melodramatic, but I don’t think so. This is all the more reason to publish these comments.
your comment about the comments and the potential meaning of them.
Another, more detailed and living version of the wall.
Lots and lots of silent warriors, like on the wall, not commenting but taking in all the comments made.
Picking and choosing between those they might think are valid and real and those that are only close or not at all…
And there’s a strange responsibility I (and Chuck) have to respect and continue that.
Who could ever have predicted back when the first comments were made, or that accidental nature of how I was writing the segments,
putting them up for the vets who can’t afford to buy stuff and then receiving a running commentary not only of experiences over there
but of advice and counsel on what I might be writing next. This is so different.
Semper fi, and thanks,
Jim
Just cut and pasted that after leaving it in response to the wrong comment. Jeez!!!
Funny, how life works. Time? While I was reading about how time had slowed for you while you climbed the chute, I had to smile. Time had slowed for the rest of us also. Waiting for the next segment. Damn, Marine, I was Jonsing hard.
Not so funny, how I can’t wait for that next segment that will drag me back into the shit. The stink of that fuckin jungle fills my nostrils and I am back.
Funny how you both love and hate going back into that hell. Me too.
I don’t know what it is. It helped define who and what I am. I could not continue to be
this ‘new’ me following the Nam. As the Gunny termed it. Thanks for sharing that small piece of extremely pertinent data.
Semper fi, brother,
Jim
man…I gotta say..all these comment’s ..and your responses..I read them ..ALL…and consider them just as important as what you..write!!..Thanx ..so..much!!..everyone!!
Yes, I just wrote about that. I too view the comments as a vital part of whatever the hell this is.
I was unaware of what they would grow to be when I began.
Chuck put in this section on the site and I had no clue.
Just started answering whoever wrote in, and now almost fourteen thousand comments later, here we are.
Thanks for being one of those many.
Semper fi,
Jim
Hello there James, not to much to say except I feel for you in bringing up these memories. Have passed your book titles on to family and other vets that I meet and do tell them to read this starting from the beginning. But do have a question for you, do you think that it would help you to actually go back to that country and revisit that area, would it maybe help some of the bad memories??
I have thought about it and been invited by some pretty great men. I just don’t think so.
Writing it is one thing but reliving it? Like going to the wall. Like stepping on the spots where
those guys died. I don’t think so but I am still keeping the idea open.
Semper fi,
Jim
James, I have missed you! Apparently you took some time out while my kids, grandkids, and GREAT grandkids were moving to Ohio. Been without computer and/or internet since last Memorial Day. And having to visit the VA medical care in Columbus and Cleveland too much – triple bypass coming soon…
I did go back and read all that I had missed, and even got a hard copy of the first ten days, and now the second ten.
Your writing continues to amaze and enlighten. How in the heck any of us came home is a miracle. And, like you, I am too familiar with too many names on the wall.
I appreciate all that you do, and enjoy this one best. But please, please, more of the young cave man! The “Thirty Days…” takes me back to 1966, but the cave boy makes me younger. So glad that you are able to write so well. Semper Fi, my friend!
Thank you so much, Craig.
The Warrior, the sequel to the Boy, is being annotated, edited and assembled for publication on Amazon
as we write to one another here.
It should be out in the next 45 days, or so.
Thanks for caring and thanks for liking it…
Semper fi,
Jim
I could only utter a “whew !! That was too damn close!!” At the end of this one.
There are few authors who can put me right there with them, and I have to say that, right from the start, you are one of those few.
Thanks for the terrific compliment in detail. And laid down right here in the public forum.
Writing this helps me. Many of the guys and gals on here probably don’t realize that. My story is bumping along
like a stage coach over a broken road and I am up top being tossed around with the reins. But it takes support people,
just like in the Nam, to guard the flanks and keep the whole thing bouncing down the road. I get the credit but
the support sure as hell keeps me alive….and it did back then too..
Semper fi, and thank you.
Jim
Jim, I’d like to make an observation if I may. I’ve noticed a change in you; of course for the better. I think you started this project with some guarded feelings on how it would be received. A door of emotions opened that we all had bottled up inside that your story had allowed us to share, especially you and me, of course. I dont think you had any idea it would be so well received which it has. Look at all the comments. These are accolades you so well deserve. Plus it has been an outlet for so many of us to share, remember, and retrospect our lives on how some of us even made it here sanely, well maybe not all of us. LoL. Any of us coming out of the Ashau are a little crazy anyhow. With all that said, thank you for sharing part of your life with us that many of us can relate to. I hope and pray it’s been a release for you as well, for you deserve the credit where credit is due. Thank you for such story that touches our innermost secerts that some of us are taking the lid off. I’ve tried to convey in these words what I’m trying to get across. If I’m mistaken in by observation, please except my apologies. Sincerely, Paul H SSG Aco 1/327, 101st. 68/69
There are comments and then there are distinctive stand alone statements of well written prose. This comment is from the second tiny group.
I read and reread it several times to get the full drift of it. So spot on, like you could read my mind. Yes, I had all that trepidation and
I have all that surprise about the result and I also have that amazement that this forum has become a forum and collecting place for so many
of us who were in the shit over there. I’ve always been amazed at how the thoughts and experiences did not fade like others along the way of life
and now I am equally amazed, as I write, that the detail of almost every part of the experience is all there too, like it was waiting.
Thanks so much for how you fashioned this statement and how you made me feel better about myself right now and right here….
Semper fi, brother,
Jim
For P Hernandez. ABU!
Don, were you in Abu company? Do you know me since you used my last name. Forgive me, I hardly know any names from back then. I do remember some faces and characters though.
Duh, Don I’m so stupid at times. Embarrassed that I didn’t even noticed my name at the top of the comment, but thanks for the “Abu” shout out. Lol
I am one of the many who have read the books, and all of the comments, but never submitted a comment. I am sure there are Many of us. I was aboard a Ship running up and down the coast of North and South Viet Nam in 1969. Our job was dangerous (we were loaded with bombs, munitions, av gas, jet fuel and black oil and toilet paper), but could not come close to incessant hell you and your men faced. At night we could observe the flares and explosions knowing that men were locked in mortal combat that close to us as we watched in relative safety. It was surreal. I have six High School friends on the wall. Frankly, I am glad I didn’t have to endure the lunacy of that kind of war you guys had to fight all those wasted years and lives. Fight to win, or don’t bother. Take the land and keep it. You guys won it in spite of it all, the politicians and press lost it for us. Thank you for your service and your incredible memory and willingness to share the raw truth.
Well, John, it is truly great to hear from you. I have been told that there are a whole lot more readers than commenters on this site. Thanks for
coming out and writing of that too. And thanks for putting what you just wrote on here. Not easy. Most people don’t write a lot anymore or if they do
it is in single line texts. You have written a really neat little treatise here and I much appreciate the length and depth of it. Thank you so very much.
Semper fi,
Jim
I look forward to each paragraph of your book, Many of us behind the lines wanted to be there or so we thought. I was in the Tonkin Gulf on the USS Enterprise a nuclear aircraft carrier, I was a yellow shirt working 18 hours a day sending off attack and bombing aircraft trying to keep you guys alive on the front lines. I did 2 tours totaling 19 months in the Tonkin Gulf. It was very hot and humid there so I imagine in the jungle it was real bad with all the folage keeping the fresh air out. I wanted to say Thanks for your service and Thanks for writing this book. It is so real that I get a little anxious just read what yall did over there. Kepp it coming and don’t forget the guys in the background but still got combat pay I think was $35 a month. Thanks Again.
Combat pay for me was $44 a month. I remember that number. You can stay at home in the U.S. for nothing extra or go to the A Shau Valley and get the
$44. Well, that was a no brainer. I needed the money for the family. Of course, there was no choice back then and I never heard of combat pay until after
I was through it and out of there. That all came later. Forty-four dollars seems pretty funny now. They did make a ribbon for combat action but nobody much
paid attention to it. Thanks, and I never forget the support guys and gals and I think that is evident in all of my writing.
Much appreciate the scope and depth of your comment…
Semper fi,
Jim
Wow. Sure glad I was not in Vietnam….any where but sure have to respect the ones who were.
Glad you were not there too! Which, after reading, I’m sure you understand my writing. Thanks for liking the story and writing
a comment on here..
Semper fi,
Jim
I spent 5 years and 8 months in the Middle East as a privet contractor. I wore my Nam ribbon on my boonie hat. It always amazed me that those kids thought they had it better than we did.
I operated a recovery crane. we cleaned up the battlefield leaving nothing behind to be used against us.
On the times I stayed behind the wire and my crew went out, I would wait at the gates like a puppy till they returned.
I would hold my breath and wait and pray till every last one of those worthless hanger dodgers was safe behind the wire.
It was no worse in the Nam. Our Brothers and Sisters were in the shit and they still are. God Damn!!!
WOW..Man I have..no word’s..tear’s tho..for some reason..but no ..word’s..Thanx so much!
Your words are plenty expressive here Jack. And I think you most expressively.
Semper fi,
Jim
I’ve spent the last day processing this episode, and the only thing that makes sense to me is this: the VC thought you and Nyugen were some army guys that somehow were not wiped out earlier and they were following them to finish the job. They couldn’t possibly think anyone was crazy enough to actually climb up there.
You know, Rob. I think you may be right, although what they thought will ever be a mystery to me in this life.
You just never really knew in those situations. Thanks for the compliment and yes, it does seem a pretty crazy thing
to do now…
Semper fi,
Jim
“We were unarmed. so there was no need to protect or position our armament.” I think this is inverted…. s/b “to protect our position or armament.”
Semper Fidelis.
Thank again for your sharp eyes, Mark.
Semper fi,
Jim
Thank you sir, keep em coming at a pace that does you no further harm.
Thanks Al, and I am pacing myself along here. Much appreciate the care and commenting about it on here.
Semper fi,
Jim
Well…again you blow us away…and it would have been a privilege to serve with you sir. As most vets, I read all the comments on here and I have seen you talk about courage several times and insinuate that you had none but I would call a “bullshit” on that one. How you react, to me, to a situation goes back to a base instinct. Whether it is moral or immoral, it is the will to survive that kicks in. I think more of your men would have lost their lives had you not been there for them, with them…you said you were scared as hell…well who wasn’t…if you weren’t you were crazy…I have a 96 year old WWII vet friend that has a bunch of medals for valor and he said once, when I said he was a hero, “we were all scared as hell… the only difference in a hero and a coward is which direction you run…I just ran the right way a few times”…as with true heroes his humility shines through as he down plays what he did and so does yours as you downplay what you accomplished in such a short time…
Well, I think your old WWII Buddy was exactly correct!
Perspective is a many-edged cutting sword.
Thanks for your interpretation and for putting it up here…
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim] One of the things i was hopeing to see when i went back to nam was the old women smiling with the nasty bettle nut smile.if you look back on the disk i sent you the old woman rideing on the rickashaw was using the drug.On my next trip back i may need to give it a try.I tried my first mary jane at 69 not 1969 when i turned 69.It was not what i had hoped it would be as a pain reliver but it was interesting.Judie is back in St Lukes fighting a infection but is on the mend hopeing to save the new kidney.Ive been staying in the woods looking for mushrooms an scouting wild turkeys.spring is a little late this year but things are beginning to bud out.Just finished my 2nd reading of your last chapter and heading back out to the woods.You know you always have an open invtaion to come down an I;ll take care of you.I had my 2 boys an my grandson here for the youth season we got skunked,but had a great time around the camp fire.saw a lot of birds but they were hened up an I could not call them in.WE all drank too much but was great bonding with myboys and their old high school friends.As always semper fi Omer
Great to hear what you are up to with the boys Omer.
Sorry that Judie is having such a tough time trying to make that kidney function properly.
I’ll try another of my broken prayers! Thanks for the invite…
I think about the campfire and smile…I can see it.
Semper fi,
Jim
Was like going into Auto for me when I was in a fire fight. One shot at me was all they got. I had 100 going back at them as I was getting down. I could not see them all the time but I went to were the sound of the shot came from.
Yes, Fred, you description has authenticity as a part of it. Fire control was so hard under such circumstance. I had a hell of a time
with that because of limited undependable resupply. Fear touches us and it touches us with its full fury. There is no cool calm quiet and
controlled fear at the bottom of any hole or heart in the heat of combat….
Semper fi,
Jim
Yes I am one who waits for each chapter and does not comment. I do share on FB. Strange for me to say that this chapter took me all day to finally read. Usually it is a drop everything and read the chapter. Your writing has captivated me, held me, provoked me to think and to read more about Vietnam Nam and the years of conflict. A sense of dread at what awaits caused my hesitation but did not stop me. You have led me to this point and I will follow. Thank you for your words. A thank you to all of the readers who spent precious time in this world for your comments. They add a depth for which I am greatful.
Mike. It is uncommon for readers to compliment readers. The men, like you, who comment on here are by and large erudite,
learned and experienced. I have been truly amazed at the depth and sincerity of the comments from the beginning and it has
been very motivational. Also a bit fearful. I don’t want to let this wonderful group of mean and women down. But, at thd same time,
the story is the story and I’m not changing it to reflect anything or anyone. It goes down as it went down. That much I owe to
all the mean that were there with me, of whom most remain there….
Semper fi,
Jim
I couldn’t sleep, when I remembered your posting from earlier that you had finished another chapter.
So, I got up to read it, and now I really can’t sleep. Just fantastic writing! Thanks once again.
Thanks John, for that compliment. I don’t mean to keep anyone else awake but me. It’s about four thirty in the morning right now. Kinda quiet and
peaceful. Funny how combat rebuilds us though. I went out on the back patio of this wondrous vacation rental and over-looked the pool in the dark.
I heard a sound through the bushes. A scrape of metal on concrete sound. Immediately I realized I was unarmed and went back inside to the kitchen to get another cup of Kona. Then I smiled. I’m home. I don’t need a gun. There’s no enemy out here. I’m back over the pool with my laptop writing this
thank for all of us on here and everywhere who fought to make sure the sound in the night was nothing at all…
Semper fi,
Jim
Great writing here as well Mr. Strauss! There was an incident here in Northern California on April 28th 1973. A munitions train carrying bombs destined for Viet-Nam blew up in the train yard in Roseville Ca. At the time I was living in Grass Valley Ca. about 45 miles away. Woke me from a sound sleep, I jumped up to grab my clothes and once fully awake thought WTF? I’m home now. Something is terribly wrong here! Was a real wake ya upper. Explosions went on for hours! TY for your writings Mr. Strauss!
When I got out of the hospital back home I read a short story written in Redbook magazine about
a vet just back hearing the sounds of a distant storm. He got out of bed and wen to the front door to listen
closely to the distant thunder. His wife got up and joined him. She said, “what are you listening for?” The vet replied, ever so
quietly, “they’re calling me back.” That story reached me deeply. It is like your comment here. Thanks for writing and
telling it the way it really is for us who did come home….finally…
Semper fi,
Jim
Dayum! Totally agree with the others, well worth waiting for. Got your first two books, thanks, and can’t put them down, even though I followed you online for most of the second. Reading it again and still raising my blood pressure in anticipation. Understand now the Marine’s comment about you being that crazy Junior, but you’re our crazy Junior. Good leaders are loved and hated – a mixed bag. You didn’t learn all that stuff at Basic School, you had good sense and logic. Well, maybe except for climbing that hill with no weapons. Leadership schools teach that you should never ask your men to do something you aren’t willing to do yourself. Nice job. Crazy, but nice. Having been Army, I appreciate the efforts you went to in order to verify their status at the top of the hill. Thanks for the new chapter, thanks for what you did. Would have been proud to serve with you (but thanking God that I didn’t).
There as so many men on here, Marshall, that I know I would have been proud to serve with. You have read about a few
in the developing story. The love/hate thing. I’d love to serve with you and I hate to see you die kind of thing.
I say that to some vets who did not have the level of outrageous activity I ‘enjoyed.’ If you’d gone with me you would
have been interred by me or those around me. Thanks for being here and thanks for writing this well-fashioned comment.
And the compliment of its writing, of course…
Semper fi,
Jim
Finished my first read of this episode and realized I wasn’t breathing much and my stomach was in a knot. Amazing that you had to maintain such an intensity of physical effort and mental focus for so many hours with death touching your shoulder each moment.
I feel uncomfortable suggesting edits; but if I can help make the read easier or more understandable for others then it seems useful. So twelve hours later I’m reading as a grammar nazi.
“…except Nguyen had left his hand covering my mouth and his right behind my neck.”
Seems as if one “left” is used for two meanings. “continued” and “which hand.”
Suggest move “left” from in front of “his” to behind it.
…had his left hand covering my mouth and his right behind my neck.
OR add “kept” to indicate continued …kept his left hand covering my mouth and his right behind my neck.
OR forget handedness “…except Nguyen had left his hand covering my mouth and placed his other hand behind my neck.”
“Only minutes earlier my mouth had been so dry with fear that spitting would have been impossible.” …or talking much either!
” I was afraid of what we were about to do however didn’t have…”
Suggest Add period after “do”; Start new sentence with “However,”; Add “it” between “However” and “didn’t” …about to do. However, it didn’t have…
“Was I losing my distant touch with the only thing in the world that matter?”
Suggest either change “thing” to “things” …only things that matter?
OR leave “thing” as is BUT change “matter” to “mattered” …only thing that mattered?
“Whatever was in the nut had a magical power that I knew had to be illegal and addictive back home.” LOL
“I nodded once and then looked in the direction we come from when we’d climbed the chute.”
Suggest substitute “came” for “come” “…in the direction we came from when we’d climbed the chute.”
OR change where the “we’d” is located “…in the direction we’d come from when we climbed the chute.”
James, Always always at your own pace. These episodes are intense for the reader. Knowing that the body stores trauma I can only imagine what recalling these events does to you. Be Well.
Your comments and your corrections are not only noted but I am truly thankful for. Without the experienced eyes and pens of
those on here my works would be riven with errors and inaccuracy when they go to print. I can’t afford a professional editor
and it is not likely the public will ever come chasing after my books. The real stuff is just mostly awful instead of heroic adventure
most seek. Trying to do the right thing in combat is terrifically hard and shameful so many times. I feared the Gunny so much I feared
the enemy and Jurgens and Sugar Daddy and so many of my own Marines. How fucking heroic is that? But there it was and here I am writing on.
I thank you most sincerely for the help in doing that and the help at being a part of the end product….
Semper fi,
Jim
I have a T-shirt that says “Adventure… is discomfort and terror remembered from the perspective of ease and security.”
Those who have not experienced the terror can, at best, get a vicarious thrill from the “adventure” portrayed in movies.
Hearsay has it that the actor, John Wayne, during WWII visited a hospital filled with wounded Marines. They Booed him out. False bravado didn’t work for them.
Just tell it like it came down.
Out in the A Shau I heard that Steve McQueen had come to Da Nang to visit the troops. I heard that when offered the opportunity to
go out on a patrol where we were he turned the offer down but at the bar in Da Nang they all just laughed over it. Most knew there
that to go where we was would only result in one thing…and so somebody had clued him in. There is no tough in combat. There is no
outrunning an artillery or mortar round’s explosion. There are few minor wounds (the bullet in the shoulder thing) that don’t likely kill
you. Whether such rumors have any truth to them I don’t know anymore. That John Wayne chose career over WWII is a tough one. Did his war movies not
help the cause?
Semper fi,
Jim
Well LT. ,you got me hanging in mid air or I mean chute . Again, another suspense filled segment . Sir, you definitely have a talent for writing . Thank You Semper Fi
Thanks Roger. It does not come hard. The telling is hard but the writing of it isn’t at all. The re-writing is hard.
These chapters, as they work toward an eventual end seem to call for much more re-writing. I go over and over it in my mind
and then remember more or something different. Thanks for the nice comment…
Semper fi,
Jim
What a price to pay for a water slide ride. Think the chattering of my teeth would of gave me away. The good Lord had to be watching over you two’s climb to make it in and out without them knowing it. Wonder if the Army guys had a chance to even do any damage before they were wiped out? Hope the Gunny and crew are prepared for the extra arrivals.
I don’t think the Army guys had any chance at all. That’s what combat usually gives you if you don’t know. Like stepping on a
booby trap and learning about booby traps. Combat’s favorite teaching tool is called death. One thing I think the story brings out
and that is movement is better than staying static in a combat situation. Stay on the move and stay alive. It isn’t what you know
that’s going to kill you. It’s what you don’t know. Thanks for the complimentary comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
Lt. that was a nightmare in what you did. I remember those night that I could not see my hand in front of my face so you had to stay quite and listen for anything that moved. Semper Fi, Walter
Yes, Walter! It’s like those paintball games in the forest. You have only two real strategies. Move and go after the enemy
or stay and wait until you can kill the enemy because moving gives him away. Staying still is the first reaction and usually the
wisest. Over time, and with enough experience, movement can become the most effective…until you run down the odds anyway. You can’t
stay in combat for long without getting hit though, no matter what…
Semper fi,
Jim
Another riveting night. Cannot wait for next chapter. Very descriptive writing like Hemingway, though I doubt you could match his ego.😀
Keep it coming.
Thanks for the Hemingway compliment. I don’t know about the ego mostly because all we get today are stories about the
stories, and those can be so inaccurate. The story laid down here isn’t like that. I don’t think there’s a lot of ego
in it. I’m not seeing myself as Mel Gibson portraying some patriotic hero here. I was a frightened little kid reduced to
mental putty. I thought that kind of thing needed to be known. You are not going to be Sylvester Stallone or Arnold or Mel
in combat. Those kinds of characters and the actors themselves do not go into combat. They are made up. When you are really in
the shit you are a mental and physical mess that is hard to describe it is so depressingly awful. Put that up on a movie screen
and the theater will be empty. Thanks for the comment,
Semper fi,
Jim
Another great chapter and always worth the wait! That had to be a harrowing night. But I can’t help but wonder how many men were sent to die on that hill over the course of the war. Or why. Was there value to it? Sending Kilo north and you back south leaving recon alone up there doesn’t make sense. I can see your comment on my screen that say’s “some out of control and twisted game show kind of thing”. That seems like a good description.
So many places like that in a war. A single spot all laid out and set up, like beaver traps invisibly placed along
the length of a truly marvelous and beautiful stream. Just wonderful unless you are a beaver hunting for dinner.
Semper fi, and thanks for that neat comment.
Jim
My guess is that your readership has a higher level of actual combat experienced veterans than any single publication currently “out there”. Add to that those of us readers with training but no combat and you get a very knowledgeable group. It makes a population of readers who know first-hand the sphincter-tightening experience of trying to navigate not just at night, unaided by any light source, in the rain, mud and shit, and avoid the shear panic of being totally lost and disrupted in spatial surroundings. And, of course, you and Nguyen know that the slightest miscue triggers your death. That’s heavy. I’m guessing you remember that 60s-70s phrase. You write it and we feel it, gutterally.
We had a cattle herding farm dog for a long time. He was an Australian Shepherd. His name was “Jeep”. My father watched him work cattle for us and watched him get rolled repeatedly by kicks to the head as he “heeled” the cows in the desired direction. Dad looked at me and said, “That dog’s got more guts than brains”. For what it’s worth.
Semper Fi,
Farmer John
As usual Conway, when you write, man oh man do you write. What a comment. I am re-reading and thinking. How could I not?
The body of men and women reading this is different indeed. The comments are wonderful from them, and I never expected that.
They keep me going. They make it worth the money and effort. They keep me straight. They help editing. They help all over…
and I never knew they or you were even out there. My books, if they do nothing else, might be used by a real combat veteran
who’s family has never understood that he never came home. Not him. Somebody else came home and they all know it. Nobody can
talk about it. Hand the books to them and say read these. You might understand. Now, that would make me proud. And thanks so very much for the depth of what you write and how well you do it!!!
Semper fi,
Jim
I think I’ve only commented once, mainly because each chapter has left me pretty much speechless. I suspected you were a little nuts, but really, sport, you’ve outdone yourself.
Well, I think many share your feelings about my mental state, then and now, Smith. Thanks for putting it down
and commenting at all…
Semper fi,
Jim
The book is a little much for my wife who is a gentle soul from a Blue Water Navy family, as I am (That’s another story.), but I told her about this chapter and she asked if I had ever been through anything like that. I was able to emphatically and truthfully say “no”. Semper Fi, Jim. Good stuff.
Dan
Thanks for the compliment and I am so sorry that your wife cannot quite handle it. I fully understand though
as I am married too and my wife is reading about this story for the very first time…and it is not going down well…
Semper fi,
Jim
As always James it is worth the wait. I check daily to see if you have another chapter posted. Thank you for great writing and sharing with us. Cannot wait to see the movie, hint.
Thanks for writing in on here at all Allen. I know how hard it can be to chime in and add your own two cents. I much
appreciate and the compliment too….
Semper fi,
Jim
Great episode, the weather bring memories of my time there, senses sharpen, heart rate increases, yet I feel a calm when I’m in that state, seems like part of my being. Side note, seen a picture of a group of mamsans smiling, they looked like they were all wearing black boxing mouth guards, betal nut must’ve had fluoride in them, gave them the hardest teeth, healthiest and blackest teeth I’ve ever seen!
I had so little contact with the villagers. They’d all moved out of the A Shau or been killed off by the time I got
there. Interesting comment, particularly after I’ve read online that so many lose their teeth to chewing this nut. I had
no idea how popular it still is in the world…
Semper fi,
Jim
The natives on Guam also chewed that betel nut. I did not know that it had such a kick to it, or might have tried it myself. Few of the residents there worked as the Phillipinoes did most of the work for them. The residents were probably too high to do the work themselves. LOL. They did have a lot of fiestas though, so my guess is that they stayed pretty high most of the time.
Oh it has a kick alright. I remember that. I have never seen the plant nuts again back here, or even heard anybody
talk about them. A drug that is that reactive? And nothing about it? Funny, really, in this day and age of the profusion
of just about everything.
Semper fi,
Jim
You have more courage of anyone I can think of Mr Strauss!
Well, Bill, it is easier to portray that now rather than then. I wonder about courage. What the hell is it really.
Usually my displayed courage was merely running toward a fearful situation because a more fearful one was gaining on me.
Perspective, I guess. Thanks for the depth of thought…
Semper fi,
Jim
Thought to myself this morning that it should be time for another episode! Damn, I could hardly breathe during the reading of such a perilous mission. Keep it coming….
Thanks Dave, for the great compliment and for writing it on here…
Semper fi,
Jim
Dang Lt, what a ride you are taking us on, keep on keeping on, waiting for the mext big splash!
Thanks Bob, for the compliment and I will keep them coming…
Semper fi
Jim
Went into a cave on Nui Cam mountain once with a small team. We could hear them moving in front of us but couldn’t use flashlights, or become a visible target. After about 300 ft in our nerves couldn’t stand it and we left without any actual enemy contact. I can only imagine what was like to have so much contact in 30 days. Mine was spread out over almost 3 years. September 69 was pretty much at least o mortar attack every day though. I was on the southern end of the Ho Chi Minh trail. Love your sharing your story with us other vets, it helps us deal with some of our demons.
Yes, Ken, you were in the shit. Having it spaced out like that could be its own hell. You were down south,
receiving all the stuff that got by us…
Semper fi,
Jim
They actually had 4 Russian tanks down there but kept them across the border in Cambodia and would come out in the evening and shell us with their bigger guns. Fortunately we never heard the drums you had to listen to. The psychologal aspect of that sure must have added an additional dimension. Sure glad you made it back..
Semper fi
The drums still play in my head late on some nights, especially out in a forest in the rain.
I try to stay away from those situations.
Glad to be back, each and every day, no matter where or what the situation…
Thanks, and it is also great to have war buddies on here after all these years…
semper fi,
Jim
I don’t comment much as I don’t feel qualified to do so having never been in VietNam nor military. But your writing brings home to me the horror that many of my friends must have gone through. How any of you survived it with any sanity left is amazing to me. Enjoy your R&R with the Missus and keep writing. I have recommended your story to several vets and hope that your writing will help them.Thank you.
Thanks Kathi. Means a lot to have people be so supportive in their own writing about my writing.
Thank you so much…
Semper fi
Jim
Jim, I think this was your second encounter with Betle Nut, if I remember correctly Fusner gave you some to help another climb earlier in the books ? Great read , inside I’m hoping those aren’t NVA following you down the chute.
Thank you LT. Brings back some memories. You are doing a great job of telling what would seem to be a hard story. The AShau to me was as beautiful as it was dangerous several years after you were there. Thank you for it all
Yes, I don’t mention the beauty of the place in the story very much. It was Shangri-la kind of beauty.
It was so pretty that it had to be painful…kind of thing. And it was so painful. I wrote home a lot about
its beauty but don’t remember doing so. I needed stuff to write that was not the truth and so I went there.
Thanks for the comment and,
Semper fi,
Jim
Thanks LT for telling your story. I drove a 5 ton tractor and trailer hauling fuel out of Quinhon in 70-71. I had no clue of what you guys were enduring and I never asked any questions, better that way I think. Your stories and writing style keep me interested and patiently awaiting new chapters.
Yes, it would have been harder for you to know what we were going through. You didn’t need anymore guilt.
You had to get through too. We all did. I never felt bad about the guys in the rear area like some around me.
You had better luck and I’m glad somebody did…
Semper fi,
Jim
LT, I’m still thinking about “Sir” and your name Junior!! Our 2cd LT. Didn’t last long and wasn’t worth a crap anyway. He flew off the fire base after a few days. I’ve read all your days and nights and I can tell you we were always waiting for a fire mission as we heard the chatter of contact and the bullshit net was where we got our real intelligence anyway. I’m re-living your combat with every chapter. but only as a Marine FDC operator with an IOD and two four deuce about five clicks from your position. Your story is about par for the course and most of us suffered the same old shit.
Thank you Sir!
Thanks Blair! Yes, it wasn’t much different, I am finding out, for many of us in that place and time.
And there were so many 2nd lieutenants just kicked out into combat straight out of the phony life at college
with a bit of training back home. Off you go. Dead you go….
Semper fi,
Jim
I can’t even begin to imagine what you went through Sir, all I can do is to read and reread each segment and try to grasp the enormity of it. Thanks again for sharing your story with us. Semper Fi LT.
Thanks for the compliment of your caring concentration on the story. That’s really neat and I appreciate you
telling me.
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim, the A Shau is much like the ocean in a typhoon, no telling where the next wave is coming from and how high it’s gonna be!
Now that’s a great analogy Leo. Like a storm on the ocean at night. Out of seeming nowhere comes the next big wave.
Semper fi, and thank you so much.
Jim
Jim,
Another terrific segment. I know your luck eventually ran out, but you survived when you shouldn’t have – many, many times. Great stuff! Books 1&2 are on the shelf in front of me.
Rick Steans – Pleiku AB, 1966
Thanks so much for the support and your writing about it on here, not to mention the two books on your shelf.
Means more to me than you might think…
Semper fi,
Jim
Held my breath thru the whole mission for fear of giving away our position.Haven’t done that for while. Awesome read sir.
Now, that’s a neat and different compliment, Buck. It also says you were there.
Thank you, brother, for commenting on here and reliving it all with me…
Semper fi,
Jim
James I can see that this third book is going to be a doozy. Can’t wait.
Thanks Junny. Much appreciate your expectant wait. I am working away to make sure that is true, about the ‘doozy’ think,
I mean. Semper fi,
Jim
Second Pete’s comment “holy shit, what a night”
Keep them coming…….
Ken
1st MAW
MACS 4
Holy shit, what a night. Now that was the damned truth for certain. Thanks for the illustration
of descriptive power in your words of iron Ken. Much appreciate…you and Pete both…
Semper fi,
Jim
well worth the wait – cannot imagine recreating this horror. Take care of yourself and as you will see many will wait on you.
Actually, Bob, it’s not like recreating the horror. It’s much easier the second time through, since I am now remote
from the actual physical part of the terror. I don’t fear here and that’s quite wonderful. It’s more of the analytical
part of trying to match things together right. I offhandedly used an old Army photo to illustrate the last segment and
man oh man did I hear about it. Seemingly small stuff can just eat you alive. Yes, I chewed Betel Nut but always thought
it was called and spelled beetle and not betel. Do I use the spelling I always assumed or the correct one I only found out
days ago? And no, you can’t say it does not matter. To some of the readers it matters a lot. So I puzzle over stuff like
that, trying to get it right…with the help of the guys and gals on here.
Semper fi, and thank you…
Jim
I followed a link someone shared on last Chapter and openned up a lot of old memories. Having been in that valley for a period of time in 1968 it is still unbelieveable to me how you manage to write this. Never tried betal nut but then again there were many thinks available over there that I did not try. Keep up the Great writing and don’s sweat the small details.
It is as unbelievable to me to write this story as it is for you, a man that has been there, to read it. It is easier
and harder to write than I dreamed or thought. But I am okay and moving on through.
Semper fi,
Jim
Out fricking standing. Waiting for the next day. Thanks Jim.
Thanks James, for the delightful compliment. I am into the Twenty-Second Day First Part as I write this.
Semper fi,
Jim
Definitely worth waiting for.
DUSTOFF medic 70-71
Thanks Cary, for the comment, compliment and also the Dustoff part….
Semper fi, brother,
Jim
Great episode.
Thanks much for the compliment Dan!!!
Semper fi,
Jim
Another great chapter sir. Looking forward to the next one. Semper Fi
Thanks Robert for the compliment and your taking the time and effort to put it up here.
Semper fi,
Jim
Saying “wow” over and over with each segment
gets a little weak sounding after so many
riveting chapters.
But WOW. I can remember when I was pre-adolescent learning the love of reading through being able to live the experience of words written. Thank you my friend for sharing your experience in hell.
I expect the Gunny and your Marines will be waiting with a suprise party already prepared for the NVA close at your heels.
Well, Patrick, when you write the way you do here then you can say whatever you damn well please
and know that people are going to read it. I am reading and much enjoying the reading, of course.
Thank you so much…
Semper fi,
Jim
So you snuck off to paradise without telling us. I’d imagine you have everyone’s permission. Different from then, you have breaks now. IF you can wind down and take one.
Back to the story. Holy shit, Lt! You’re defining bravery, scared to death but go anyway. Take care of yourself, we need you to finish in good health. Waiting. Patiently.
Well, there’s really no way to ‘tell you guys’ because there’s no way to figure out who comes on here and reads, unless they make
a comment. Chuck says a lot more guys and gals will read than will ever comment and I have no reason to doubt him on that subject.
So, I did not notify the world that I was going, no. But then, I never intended to simply hide away and dry up into more of an aged
husk of something I once was anyhow. Here I am, another segment up and working on the following one. Island in the Sand percolating along
the work punctuated, like with Thirty Days, by rather surprising and astounding comments from brilliant readers like you. Thanks for
being what you are Walt, and my friend.
Semper fi,
Jim
As I commented on your Facebook page, “hard work often pays off over time; vacation always pays off now.” Relax and Enjoy!
Thanks Ed, and I think you are right. It’s taken almost a week just to bring the tension level in my brain down.
Much appreciate the writing of the wisdom here on this page…
Semper fi,
Jim
Good men thrown in that briar patch by unthinking and uncaring brass. I do sometimes wonder if they read any first hand accounts of what they did to men under their command. I do hope so, and seek their own redemption. Continue in the green paradise of your very young years. Will be watching and waiting for the probable smirk on a gunny’ face that you survived again.
I honestly don’t know Poppa.
It is uncommon to ever talk to anyone who admits to having been brass in the rear.
Most Viet Vets would rather not discuss that part. In some ways, it’s like Pearl Harbor survivors.
All the men serving on Oahu became Pearl Harbor survivors.
The guys manning guns on and around Ford Island became, over time,
the same as those who might have been asleep on the beach at Bellows ten miles away.
Perception is not only a major part of being an understanding vet it is a required one.
And also, shutting the hell up about the experience of other vets because you just don’t know.
Let them tell their story and shut up.
I only saw this little bitty part of this one war zone.
What in the hell do I really know about the whole damned thing?
Not much.
Thanks for the interesting comment and for writing it on here…
Semper fi
JIm
Jim, you know more now just from all the comments from the Vets that are reading “30-days”, I now know that the shit was everywhere, just piled different for the time and unit that you were in. Some of us didn’t go through what you did in 30 days in the year we were there.
Keep them coming Jim!
Mike S. I am constantly blown away by the number of other real combat vets who comment on here. I thought I would be
taken to task much more. I did not know that so many other men were in different versions of the same shit. I thought it was
just me and I thought most of my conduct in combat was sub-par or self-serving at the most. So many things I did just because
I didn’t know what else to do…
Semper fi,
Jim
Powerful, true comment to Poppa J’s post LT
Thanks Jim. Funny, but I seldom think of other people reading what I write in reply to comments made on here! I am reminded.
Thank you. I wrote that like personal to Poppa but it does go public and I have to keep remembering that. This is an open
forum and you and I can both hurt ourselves if not careful. As in Thirty Days, the truth can save your life or kill you dead
on the spot…what is the truth, anyway? Semper fi,
Jim
Was in the Que Son mountains during the monsoons.. under constant contact. Was tuff trying to climb up .. two steps forward slide back one.. we finaly found why they gave us such a bad time, we found a underground hospital and R and R center and armory. You writing brings back lots of wet muddy memories.. the good thing was that something in my systom repelled leaches.. the things were dropping off of the jungle and latching to the grunts necks.. never had a leach fasten to me, and no,, I didn’t chew beetle nut .
You have certainly ‘walked the walk’.
And yes, I did know one other vet over there who leeches didn’t like either.
Of course, that guy was different. We thought the leeches had better taste than to sample of him…
Semper fi
Jim
Great book, looking forward to the next ten days.
Thank you to all who served
Thanks for the compliment and putting it up here in public Mike.
Semper fi,
Jim
Holy shit, what a night. Can’t wait to see what happens at the bottom.
Yes, the A Shau adventures can resemble some out of control and twisted game show kind of thing
at times. Thanks for wanting more and waiting for me to get it all done. I am swearing to have the next
segment up in a week and get back on my old schedule…
Semper fi,
Jim