Fusner gently shook my shoulder. I inhaled sharply, suddenly realizing he’d been doing it for a while, but the depth of sleep I’d gone into would not allow me to think that I was in the A Shau Valley of South Vietnam commanding Marines in combat. I awoke slowly, no panicked jerk like I’d heard so much about at home, from guys supposedly returning from the shit and flinching at backfires that never occurred anymore in my sixty’s world. Maybe the uncontrolled jerk would come over time, and I wondered about that. I yawned and breathed deeply again, stretching my arms out until the pain of my leech wounds forced me to pull them back in. The wounds hurt in a nasty surface way. Not deep enough to keep me from functioning, but deep enough so that I was never without them at the very edge of my consciousness. I wondered if Morphine worked as a topical. Maybe I could just slather some on and the pain would go away, although I didn’t really believe it. Pain is what the A Shau dished out, and if you missed the breakfast of leech wounds then lunch would be served with something truly hurtful and more permanent.
“Puff is going to come down and make four pylon-turn passes, at your command, sir,” Fusner said, speaking quietly, his head bent down so his mouth could be close to my ear. “We don’t have much time. I let you sleep as long as the Gunny would allow. But you have to decide where Puff will lay down its fire. Here or there?”
My mind roiled and tossed. Here or there where I wanted to ask but instead took a few seconds to clear my head. I wanted coffee, some crackers and maybe part of a cigarette, but knew I wasn’t going to have the time, or the immediate availability, to get any of those things.
“Here,” Fusner said, patiently, “over what we believe is their current position, or ‘there’ where we are going to attack up along the river, and maybe into the jungle patch just north.
I looked at my watch. It was 1415, or a quarter after two. The resupply would be coming in at three. I shook myself fully awake, pulling my hand back from its grip on Macho Man’s dog tags and the M-16 cartridge. How was I ever going to solve the mystery of his death in the A Shau Valley under the horrid conditions we were fighting under? One of my Marines killed him and I felt driven to know who. I could not think beyond that because beyond that was a place of bleak dark death. If I knew, then I would act. I would have to act. I reached into my pocket and took out my heavily taped letter to my wife. I handed it over to Fusner. I knew that the likelihood of me actually getting close to the CH- 46 was slim. Fusner would be much more able to take the few seconds to make the run and deliver the letter to one of the crewmen, although there were no guarantees if the chopper came under fire.
“I’ll make sure it gets out, sir,” he said, folding the letter carefully into his right breast pocket.
“How long can the C-130 orbit?” I asked, knowing Fusner didn’t know but wanting him to find out.
The enemy knew Puff, like it knew the Ontos, and it feared the fire-breathing dragon of a monster. The longer I could keep the plane on station, the longer the enemy would keep its head down and remain stationary, but I couldn’t wait too long. The 46 would not land in a hot L.Z. and Puff couldn’t do its thing if the air was filled with Huey Cobra gunships and Skyraiders under it or too close to the cone of fire it would deliver.
“Give me the arty net,” I said, holding out my hand.
Fusner took only seconds to comply. I held the microphone and called in the zone fire mission I’d calculated earlier. The battery would give me 30 155 mm rounds, 6 on target, and 6 on four targets designated as the cardinal points of the compass, but fifty meters (the kill radius of a 155 on flat terrain) out from the target. The zone fire would be followed by the same call, except using 105 mm howitzer rounds two hundred meters left and right of the target as I called it in. I had not adjusted for the 155 mm howitzer weapon before, and I couldn’t remember if the bigger guns were set up in a battery circle of four or six guns. The 105s were set in a circle of six. If the 155’s were only four to a circle then their zone fire volley would be less than what I had planned, but still devastating. I timed the opening of fire to be at 1500, or 3:00 p.m. exactly. The resupply chopper would be on final approach, coming down in the flat L.Z. by the river, while the protective swarm of Huey gunships would be swarming well away from the gun target line where the artillery fire the battery was about to deliver would, hopefully, take out any forces on the eastern ridge where the still-beating drums had been relocated to.
I wouldn’t be adjusting fire on the barrage. It would come in on terrain I’d already registered, and the battery was fully capable of hitting that particular spot using only half the maximum load of powder bags. There were other issues I had to deal with, however, and once the artillery rounds were fired and then laid down I could always do a quick adjustment up or down the top of the escarpment, as long as the shells did not strike too far west, and encounter the face of the cliff again. Two companies of men and a crewed Ontos would be down from the top of that cliff face, I among them.
Fusner worked with the AN-323 air radio while I got into my gear. I had to take everything, as we would not be coming back to the caves again, not unless disaster struck and we had no choice. I would miss the total security the many feet of solid rock gave me in the cave. I hoped the days of paralyzing fear were behind me, for the most part, although the coiled snake of fear that could curl around any internal organ at will, never left my insides. The cave had gone a long way toward giving me much needed sleep and a feeling of security enough to allow me to carry on. I knew I would miss the cave badly and wasn’t likely to have the gift of such a fortified position protecting me again.
The beating of the enemy drums became more physically present, as I crawled up out of the cave, pulling my pack behind me until I was clear of the hanging poncho cover. Even with my experience and knowledge, I hated the sound of the drums. It wasn’t just the sound, somehow reverberating right through the joined drops of falling rain. It was also the naked intent the drums dully transmitted. The NVA wanted us dead, with myself very probably at the very top of a short list.
Drums
My own poncho cover rustled and sparkled as it became almost instantly wet. I settled my helmet firmly down to cover the back of my neck. The rain was going to be both a help and a hindrance in the coming attack. In the very inner sanctum of my mind lived the hope that the NVA had taken a beating so badly at the river the night before they might have gone underground to lick their wounds. I let out a sigh, as I moved out, knowing in my heart of hearts that the NVA was not built that way. Their soldiers thought they were fighting for their families and country, I knew. I was fighting for my country and family, as well, but in reality, I was actually fighting as much for the men around me as anything or anyone else. I didn’t love all my Marines. They were like my arms and legs and other body parts. I didn’t love my body parts either, but the sum of them made up who I was and how they obeyed my commands and moved determined how I moved through what I knew of the universe. I could no longer imagine what it might be like to move through the A Shau Valley without the Marines who surrounded me at every point. If by some bizarre turn of fortune, I made it back to the world, then I wondered what it might be like to move through that world without them?
The drums beat right on through the deep-throated, but the distant roar of what I knew had to be the turbines of the C-130. The Skyraiders were up there in the clouded-over sky, as well, and, in spite of the fact that we’d soon be engaged in unpredictable and bloody ground combat, I felt a strange warmth for the amount of firepower that was being brought to bear on our behalf.
Fusner pushed the small headset of the air radio toward me. I pulled my damaged helmet off, put the headset on, and then replaced the helmet to keep the water from ruining the electronics and dripping down my face.
“Flash, is that you?” A scratchy voice asked into my ear.
“Affirmative, Cowboy, over,” I replied, a small smile creasing my lips.
“Man oh man, but you’ve got some crap flying around up here, with more coming I presume.”
I knew Cowboy had to know about the choppers coming in, but he’d never say anything other than what he’d just said.
“Amen to that,” I replied.
“Where are you going to want us for the Thanksgiving feast?” Cowboy said.
“Up and down the alley,” I replied, the alley being the river, which I also knew he would understand.
The landing zone was going to be congested in bad visibility and heavy rain. The Skyraiders would provide cover and fire from a few feet above the raging water, running up and down the river, but they’d only able to remain directly on station for very brief periods. The Huey gunships surrounding the CH-46 like a cloud of bees would have the higher air, but not much higher. Puff would fire and then move on before much of any real action began if any real action began. Would the CH-46 come in on time? Everything was targeting the arrival time of the resupply chopper to be exactly on time. What if it was early or late? There was no way to communicate with the machine while it was on its way. Any communication at all with the choppers would immediately tip off any listening NVA troops that the birds were coming in.
We moved through the edge of the jungle, retracing steps I’d taken so many times I had stopped counting. We moved along the edge of the berm that was set out about five to ten meters from the front face of the eastern cliff wall.
The jungle was to our west, or on my left hand as we moved, and would only draw away as the huge mud flat below where the Bong Song slithered and roared expanded outward. The water hit the wall’s flat bottom somewhere below the old airport and well downriver from Hill 975. In the past, the company had jammed itself into the slight clefts that were formed further downriver and within full visibility of the flats, but this time would be different. The companies had to cross the river after the resupply and they had to cross immediately, or the NVA would be able to bring up their .50 Caliber machine gun and a load of shoulder-mounted RPG rockets.
Finally, a good distance from the river, and snuggled in against the outer edge of the heavy jungle growth we came to rest. I knew other Marines were swelling out and up the base of the cliff where we’d taken up defensive positions in the past. Their movement and setting in bothered me, the thought of just how much damage and death a few short artillery rounds, impacting near the top of the escarpment, might generate as they had before.
The chopper came out of the south, dropping in from high up to avoid as much risk from ground fire as possible. The cacophony of engaged combat filled the air around me, although the misting rain was so heavy it was almost impossible to make out any details of the river in the distance, or what was really happening there.
The Skyraiders, three of them, didn’t need to be seen because they were so loud. Their thunderous engines bit and plowed through the mist, making mincemeat of the rain and mist, as they made pass after low pass over the river. Somehow the big CH-46 was able to drop onto the river bank without hitting or being struck by one. Each pass of the Skyraiders, several minutes apart was punctuated by staccato strafing runs as they sprayed the sides of the river with their 20 mm cannons. Higher above, split into two revolving groups of three, were the Huey Cobra gunships.
The artillery barrage started after Fusner confirmed the 1500 target time to the battery for the zone fires, and then repeated the order to fire. The crump and blast of that zone fire exercise began less than a minute later, with the noise and feeling of heavy explosions reverberating across and down into the valley area where the companies lay waiting to attack, unload the chopper and then build a temporary ramp over to the remains of the bridge still extending most of the way across the raging river. Everything seemed to slide way into the distance, however, when Puff opened up with its rotary guns. Flying the first rotation of the pylon circle tightly, the rotary guns sticking out of its side roared out their superior death-dealing firepower, and the tongue lash of the concentrated bullets poured into the jungle just to our south, and a bit inland from where the river bank extended up to become a heavy jungle.
I cringed down, although I was not as close to the dragon tongue of fire as the last time I’d been on the ground nearby to observe Puff’s effect. The last time my face had been buried too deep in the mud for me to see much of anything. I peered upward, even though my body remained hard-pressed into the fetid stinking mud. I tasted the aroma of the dead, which was strong, it’s sugary bitter smell never leaving my awareness, even as I tried to take in the sweeping combat scenes all around me, as I tried to see what was going on. The Gunny lay on my left side and Fusner on the other, both doing the same thing I was. The play of weaponry, the chopper dropping in, blasting debris everywhere, and the flitting in and out nature of the giant wasp-like and heavily firing Huey gunships was overpowering. I heard the Skyraiders begin another run, this time from the north, and I prayed that the CH-46, touching the mud not more than a few meters from the river, would not be so close as to have its whirling rotors strike one of the passing aircraft while it was making a run.
An M-60 opened up to my left, set back up higher on the berm near the cliff wall to our backs. Then another opened up, both appearing to fire ten or twenty shot bursts several seconds apart. I’d ordered the fire and was relieved to hear other machine guns joining the first two. There was no margin for error in bringing all of our weaponry, ground, air, and artillery into play at once in order to assure that the CH-46 did not take rounds and either abort the resupply or be destroyed. The NVA could still fire at it from their hidden positions deep inside the jungle, especially if they’d brought their fifty to be set up for just such a target of opportunity. But would the fifty crew, and individual NVA troops, come out to face the kind of fire they were receiving from all quarters? A few solid hits into the body of the big helicopter and that would be it. There was no alternative plan to crossing the river and moving as rapidly as possible to the north. It was vital to hit Hill 975, in passing, as quickly as possible before the burrowed in soldiers there could be ready to receive us.
The Ontos was the key to our attack on the ground, just as it was the key to our survival while holding off the NVA while the ramp was constructed to get the armored vehicle to the other side of the river. I heard its motor straining as it negotiated the last bit of path along the side of the cliff and then climbed the berm to begin its travel toward the resupply chopper.
The artillery barrage played out and not long after the last pylon pass of Puff was made and the C-130 disappeared downriver so fast that it was like it’d never been there at all. But the gentle wind, blowing upriver brought the smell of burned jungle debris, and it also helped blow the smell of the dead to some other place, at least for a while.
There was a brief respite while the big double rotor chopper began to set in. the noise that usually accompanied it was somewhat muted by the heaviness of the misty rain. I turned to the Gunny at my side, rolling slightly over.
I removed Macho Man’s dog tags from my thigh pocket. I did not have time to write my next daily letter home so there was nothing to interrupt the passage of the dog tags and the M-16 cartridge between the inner pocket and my hand. I handed the dog tags to the Gunny without delay or any ceremony. He dangled the two identical tags from the cheap government issue chain. I watched him stop the tags from swinging. He gripped the one tag with the fingers of his right hand. I held out the cartridge but he waved my offer back, as he stared at the tag. I knew then that he didn’t need the cartridge to compare. There was only one weapon in the A Shau theater of combat that fired a round even close to that as illustrated by the hole in Macho Man’s dog tag.
“Who,” I asked, my voice flat and without emotion, my eyes fixed on what I could see of the landing chopper
“Don’t know,” he replied, replacing the dog tags back into the open and extended palm of my left hand.
“Who has it?” I asked, my voice a whisper.
“Who has what?” the Gunny replied, lighting a cigarette and then blowing smoke up into the rain and mist, out from under the lip of his helmet.
I caught something in the delay of his answer, however. It was indefinable, but there. I could tell he wasn’t looking at me either, instead of concentrating and working to get some bit of tobacco from between two of his teeth and then spitting it out. I watched him closely out of the sides of my eyes, and purposely waited, without answering his question.
“Jurgens,” the Gunny finally said.
The Thompson submachine gun had found a home, and I was not surprised at all to understand where, or with whom, it had found that home. The question was, had that new home been made for it at the expense of Macho Man’s life? I had real reservations about a weapon so heavy and so difficult to resupply with ammo, but those feelings, I knew, were not shared by most of the Marines around me. The Thompson was cool, and although it wasn’t built to perform well in the jungle circumstance we were all in, the fact that it felt good to carry and be seen with, outweighed pure functional capability for most Marines who saw or encountered it.
“Look into it,” was all I could think of to say.
Of all the men under the strange command I provided to the company, Jurgens was the most dangerous, murderous and yet combat effective Marine I had, outside of the Gunny and possibly Nguyen. The Gunny made no response to my instruction, but then, I didn’t expect one. The Gunny had been dealing with Sugar Daddy and Jurgens long before I had come to the company. Somehow, and through a course where many Marines had died directly because of it, he’d found a way to straddle a hyper-sensitive course through a racial and cultural minefield to survive. I knew there would be no resolution in the death of Macho Man unless I applied it, but I could not apply anything unless I had the tacit approval, if not the direct participation, of the Gunny.
The plan was for everyone to stay down and provide whatever suppressing fire was necessary without exposing themselves to the open flat surface of the mud bank.
The chopper crew tossed stuff rapidly out of the CH-46 rear cargo ramp. I wasn’t close enough to see individual items but I knew the unloading was going without incident. Unfortunately, our combined force of Marines would not have the services of either Puff or the artillery when it became necessary to get the supplies to the water and then the ramp somehow designed and built to hold the Ontos’ weight.
The attack wasn’t directed toward where the chopper was coming down, or the supplies were being offloaded and piling up. The attack was set to be a clone of the attack we’d made nights earlier when the company had been forced to move downriver to rescue Kilo and cover its descent down the cliff face into the valley. As before, except with the addition of Kilo’s support, the company had to take the whole length and breadth of the jungle and hold it. Unlike the previous time, where the company had merely swept through it, this time both companies would have to secure and hold the difficult enemy-held terrain in order to effectively suppress fire so the ramp could be built and the Ontos driven up and across the bridge.
The “Same Old Song” attack began silently, the Marines, including those of Kilo Company, almost automatically eased into the shocked jungle as one continuous force, using the rain and mist drifting over the area as cover. The air over the jungle was still filled with tiny bits of debris blown into the lower atmosphere by the rotary strafing power of Puff’s orbiting attack.
The Ontos motored down toward the river, making no effort to direct any of its recoilless rifles toward the jungle. Initially, I’d calculated that the applied mass of air power would provide all the suppression necessary to allow us to reach the end of the bridge. Once there, the Ontos was to serve as cover, since there was no other cover available at all, and provide its own considerable suppressing fire across the river. Taking the jungle on our side was one thing, but there was no way the high ground on the other side of the river, a bit further south, could hope to be successfully attacked or its fire suppressed. Carruthers and the Gunny were leading the attack into the jungle, and small arms fire began to rise in volume once the covering fire of the M-60s began to lessen. I climbed to my feet and, with Nguyen and Fusner at my sides, ran to get out in front of the advancing Ontos. No fire seemed to be directed at us, although it was almost impossible to determine whether that was really true or not because of the lack of visibility. The sound of the rushing river overpowered most other sounds, even those of high-velocity gunfire in the distance. We passed by the chopper, not stopping, and avoiding the twin stacks of supplies already offloaded. At some point, Marines from the company must have gathered the bodies of our fallen brothers because I noted those being loaded into the side of the chopper closest to the river as the supplies were still being offloaded from the rear ramp.
The Skyraiders came in over the river just as we reached the area I knew we had to somehow fortify in order to build the base of the ramp. The Marston sheets and the Ontos were all we had, as other Marines began to assemble, no doubt the team the Gunny had selected to do the actual work.
I went into the mud right at the water’s edge, where the stuff was solid but wet and messy. My body slipped into the stuff like it had been waiting for just such an intrusion. My helmet and eyes were all that was above the surface, as I thought about my .45, which I’d failed to get out of my holster. Was it better off inside and clean or out with me and filthy?
The chopper’s turbines went up to maximum, as the huge helicopter lifted off, rising up and then dipping its nose and heading straight down river, in the trace of the Skyraiders. The noise was deafening and the feeling of being stranded out on the mud flat with only the Ontos as any kind of cover and protection was frightening. My coiled snake of fear, so common to my interior was no more. I was a living, breathing and shaking body of fear, wondering how I’d gotten myself into an even worse mess than I had been in before, and how to command and direct the Marines around me to do what they had to do without the Gunny being there to back my every move.
While we wait, a breif informetcial from the men who slept between clean sheets..
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NcbcHJpIHU0
Thanks for putting this on here DPO…
Semper fi,
Jim
Is there going to be an addition soon?
Yes, in the next few days Joe….
Semper fi,
Jim
My father’s name was James. Was a forward observer. 2 1/2 tours in Vietnam with 3rd MarDiv. When I went on to claim “The Title” as he did before me, our relationship. Our bond grew stronger than I can really put into words. He opened up to me about things he saw and did. The good and bad times and the brother’s he lost. The men he admired and looked up to and those he had nothing but disdain for. The jokers and the shitbags. The super smart guys and the absolute morons. I lost him not that long ago to complications from a surgery. He was suffering from dementia. It’s funny how that illness effects the memory. For all that he forgot and how hard it was to keep a conversation with him towards the end, he told me things he had never told me before. His doctor told me that dementia has a funny way of opening memories that a person didn’t even know they still had. How he lost his front teeth to an NVA rifle butt. How in 1967 just before the hill fights while on patrol they lay among some large boulders and high grass praying with a .45 in one hand and a grenade with the pin pulled in the other while he watched what he described and hundreds of NVA filed past them. How he had to have the grenade pried from his hand after because he couldn’t force his hand to open. For some reason your writing has opened something up in me. In a way it’s brought me even closer to my Father. He never spoke to my Mother or my siblings about the war. As a brother Marine I guess he was just trying to impart something on me in the hopes that I would learn something. I want to thank you again for sending me the First and Second ten days. I literally check everyday for the next piece of this story. You are doing a great service to us here. DO NOT STOP, Marine! We are all here with you and will be to the end.
I am back Giz, and back to stay. I much appreciate the compliment you pay me of being able to help in any way.
Semper fi,
Jim
I can’t begin to imagine what you are going through reliving and retelling this story. Glad you are back and paying for strength and fortitude to finish this up. We still have to get together for fish at Mariques!!!!!! God Bless you and Happy Forth of July!
Life comes at you, from the past and the present, while trying to lay down the story remains ever present but elusive to
allow me to proceed, if that makes any sense at all.
Thanks for your support and the great compliment.
Semper fi,
Jim
James, Feel free to request that prayers or healing be sent your way – should you deem that useful. In any case, it is your journey. Always at your own pace. Blessings & Be Well
I cannot see that prayer offers of any kind should be ignore or turned back. I seek redemption and I seek assistance in receiving it. I get some right on here
from kindred souls like your very own. Thanks for the offer and I accept most willingly with great thanks.
Semper fi,
Jim
O9 I enlisted in July of 69 coming f rom a long line of WW2 veterans and Patriots. Was in Paris Island while others were at Woodstock. I ended up in 2nd Recon Bn, I didn’t get to Nam suffering a severe back injury while on. Float in the Med with Blt 2/2. I told my cousin a Nam Vet I missed the war, he replied the War missed you. Your writing however gives me the chance to live it vicariously. I grip every word,proper respect to all the Vietnam Vets. I am anxiously awaiting the next chapter. Semper Fiq
The next segment went up this morning and the next after that is half-written. I am on a roll now and intend on staying on it.
Thanks for the wonder your words create in a writer’s heart, such as my own. You sustain me and I cannot tell you how important that is.
I could not have written this alone…
Semper fi,
Jim
trung úy
Reading your story and waiting for the next edition!. Your story has me writing about mine, it has turned into a college paper. Not a combat story unless you count living with PTSD combat. A college professor who is reading it has given me high marks on my Drafts. Says it is helping him to understand what we as soldiers go through and live with. For my part, it is helping me navigate through the mental maze of conflicting memories and understand why I am the way I am. It is making me a better person and helping shed the cloak of fear I live under at night. Thanks, I hope you relating your story gives you solace and some peace.
I am so tickled that I could be of assistance. Thanks for the great compliment.
Semper fi
Jim
D-Day + 75 years.. Thinking of everyone who has ever sweated and bled for this nation. God bless you all.
Thank you for the input, Glenn
Semper fi,
Jim
On this Memorial Day just wanted to stop and say thanks to you and all vets for your service.
Thank you for your support, Glenn.
Semper fi,
Jim
Project 100,000
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_J2VwFDV4-g
If you had any doubts
Thank you for sharing, SCPOCB
Semper fi, Jim
You ok James, you have me a little worried?
Back on track Frank. Thanks for caring and writing that on here.
Semper fi,
Jim
Just wanted to take a minute to let you know I still have your six……
Thank you, Mr. Wilson!
Semper fi,
Jim
James,
Can you change my email address to TR8216@Comcast.net? Former address was TR2129@Comcast.net.
Thanks,
Tim
It says you unsubscribed on 04-02-2019
Please go to this link and resubscribe.
Remember to Verify
Sign Up for Updates
Thanks for the support, Tim
Semper fi,
Jim
I have not got any chapters since 26th day 3rd part. I am anxiously awaiting each new chapter. I resubmitted my email address in case of a computer snafu.
Having a bit of a block.
Chapters coming soon
Semper fi,
Jim
I hope You are able to get back on track and finish the final days. It would be disappointing if unfinished after all of this. I served in the U.S. Navy 70-74. I was proud at he time but mixed feelings now. I sure do t feel like a made a difference or changed the world for the better.
I am back on track this day…and thanks for caring
Semper fi,
Jim
James: As I reread the last chapter a strange thought came over me. The passage (The “Same Old Song” attack began silently, the Marines, including those of Kilo Company, almost automatically eased into the shocked jungle as one continuous force, using the rain and mist drifting over the area as cover) made wonder if you ever thought about the good Marines you left behind at the end of the thirty days and what would become of them? I know it was beyond your control when you left and you had a few shiz heads you had to deal with, but I am talking about the grunts that took the fight day and night. They took the blows that would keep you alive and I was wondering what your thoughts were after you healed up to where you could have a rational thought about them. I know as I rotated back to the states I remember having concerns about the ones I left behind. Not the same scenario as yours in the least. I can’t find the words for how I feel about the men in your company and what they had to endure. Thanks again for writings James..
Thanks for the great comment and the compliments written into it.
Thanks for caring at this depth too…
Semper fi,
Jim
Great just great read LT. I never saw Puff in daylight though. But what a sight at night. A life saver.
Thanks for your support and input.
Semper fi,
Jim
It appears Hollywood likes your storyline…
https://youtu.be/AyUqZLwOo2Y
Hollywood will never like my storyline and this movie is definitely not it.
More mythology with a sprinkling of reality thrown in.
Movies like this and so many more are one of the reasons I have written what I have written…
Semper fi,
Jim
The AC 130 Gunship was designated “Spector”. As usual, another great read and for me, much too short.
Thank you, John
Both the AC-47 and C-130 had been nicknamed “Puff”
Between the AC-47 and the AC-130, the AC-119 was used but proved to be underpowered
In September 1967, the first AC-130A prototype arrived at Nha Trang Air Base and began its test program.
Grunts on the ground were happy to see them regardless of what they called them.
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim, I’m pretty well versed on the gunships. I served at Danang Air Base in ’66 and Phan Rang in 67. USAF Ground Weapons crewman for B-57 Canberra bombers of the 8th & 13th Tactical Bombardment squadrons. We got a first hand view almost every night of AC 47 Spooky working the areas around Phan Rang. I spent a lot of nights at the end of the runways arming our outbound mission. In later years Phan Rang became a major base for he AC-119 “Stingers”. Once again, Love your story.
Thank you for the compliment and also sharing some of your experiences. The AC-47 were awesome aircraft
and a very welcome sight to those on the ground.
Semper fi,
Jim
That would be “specter”, as in a “specter of death”. Doesn’t matter much what you call it, the AC130 is capable of bringing down the hurt. Bigger guns and longer loiter than the AC47. That’s goodness, from the ground. Or badness, depending on which ground you hold.
Thanks again Sir!
You are most welcome David, and thank you for your support and helping keep me going…
Semper fi,
Jim
James:
Again, thanks for the understanding this story and the ancilliary comments convey. I am deeply appreciative for your and those who comment sharing this most intimate part of life.
As you quite adroitly state “….from the very fringe”
Sempre Fi!
Thanks Tomas. Your comment, and those of so many other veterans on here, really means a lot to me and helps me to write the story.
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim,
Still here…Still need a Camel…Still don’t smoke…
Don’t mean nuthin’
Bill
Snake driver 70/71
Really cool comment Bill!!!! Thanks for making me smile…
Semper fi,
Jim
I read the chapter first and then reread it with those drums in the background…what a great addition……really brought it to life……
Thanks, Sam.
As you may know, we are slowly narrating all three books.
Trying to add sound effects to those also.
This is The Twenty-Sixth Day.
Sound effect come in at about 19 minutes.
Feedback is always welcomed.
TwentySixth Day Audio
Semper fi,
Jim
Has the 26th night been published, or am I unsubscribed for some reason..thx James
Nope. I hope tomorrow. Editing tonight…
Semper fi,
Jim
Another great chapter. Thanks.
Congrats on your Honor Flight.
Any kind of link where we could see your speech?
There was nobody to film or video the speech and I didn’t think to provide such coverage.
I got to speak again on the airplane P.A. address system too and that was quite wonderful.
SEmper fi,
Jim
When will book 3 be out? I have 1 and 2 and am almost through book 2. Absolutely riveting. Some chapters keep me awake at night. But that’s ok.
As you can imagine these final days are not the easiest to again write down.
It will be finished as time passes.
not too much time.
Semper fi and thank you for your support.
Jim
Wow. I never thought of it like that! Out of all the great words you strung together in cola. 1 and 2, these are my favorite, and perhaps the most salient.
I started to make a small semantic suggestion after reading the “third part”, but I’m done with that, you have an army of “proofreaders”.
I’ll just sit back and enjoy the writing, knowing what it is you are saying…
Thanks so much for the comment here and the great compliment it really is.
Semper fi,
Jim
Ok LT. This is building I think. Listened to the entire “Drums” soundtrack as I read. Had to go clean my Flintlock to unwind. Them drums get me every time.
Went to VN Vet appreciation day at Idaho State Capitol the 29th. It was well put on by State Veterans organizations at the request of Governor Little. There was a good crowd at least half of which I would guess were Motorcycle folks in their Colors..
Well nuff said. I will keep reading as long as you keep writing.
Glenn.
Thanks Glenn, as usual. Yes, an amazing number of readers are Harley guys and truckers, etc. I would not have guessed before, but appreciate the fact.
Semper fi,
Jim
Great read. Hope your talk goes well and is well received. If you talk as well as you write, you will have them on the edge of their seats. Those same snakes start crawling when we have to say something useful to a crowd of old withered Marines. A pleasure to read your work.
I spoke for 22 minutes at the dinner last night.
They gave me a standing ovation and I did not really know what to do with that.
What a wonderful audience.
There were a lot of wives there and one of the things I really drove home was how much life was injected into
me by my wife while I was in country and then how much was renewed by her when I got back.
It was everything.
I talked of my discovery of my respect for enlisted personnel and how they saved my life,
including the Gunny and then I spoke about my thanks to all the guys and gals
who were in the rear with the gear and gave me so much, always and willingly, as was happening right where I was.
I think it went pretty well.
Semper fi,
Jim
>Para 10, why did you hold a microphone “tightly to my ear”?” Maybe a speaker or headphones instead?
>NVA had taken a beating so badly at the river the night before they might have gone underground to lick THEIR (not its) wounds
>“Each pass of the Skyraiders WAS punctuated” (not were).
>Huey Cobra(not CobraS) gunships.
>Rotary guns sticking out of its side (not sides). Guns only on port side.
>The Wasp-like helos were Cobras, not Huey gunships.
>Hold the Ontos’ weight.
Appreciate your help and sharp eyes, Tom.
Corrected
Semper fi,
Jim
Another great read. The image you create is so vivid I can feel the debri blown by the blades and smell the stench of death. Thank you for the surprise addition.
Still here and wondering how anyone would not be . I have nothing to compare it to except the last chapter and the next…….
Thank you, Charlie.
Appreciate your support and order.
Semper fi,
Jim
Wish I could be there for your speech. You are capable of putting to words what so many have lived. Thank you for being that voice.
I think it went pretty well.
I talked a bit about the stuff in my books
but mostly about the people back home and in the rear with the gear.
And how I learned that I was not the officer who had Marines, but Marines who had me…
Semper fi, and thanks for the uplift as I head to Washington D.C.
Semper fi,
Jim
Here in NH our Honor flights typically leave early on a Sunday morning and return 0 dark 30 Sunday night. This is the 10th anniversary of the Honor Flights from New England and I’m proud to say I have been part of all of the flights leaving from NH. (Some go out of Boston.) I am a Ride Captain with the Patriot Guard Riders and I’m usually in charge of setting up the flag lines inside of the Manchester terminal for the morning flight. Your Honor Flight is going to involve a stay over in DC, I’ll be interested in how this works out. Please let me know how it goes.
The honor flight experience is a singular moving event in my life and I did not expect that at all.
What a wonderfully warm social event to be part of with human beings I am meeting whom I shall never ever forget.
Thanks for being a part of building all that Paul.
The reception in the hearts of the vets you help here is something else again.
Talk about love…
Semper fi,
Jim
Another gripping chapter. Thank you for the work and your service.
You might want to check the following, “spot using only half the maximum load of powder bags below maximum+
Thank you, Charlie.
I believe corrected
Semper fi,
Jim
“…and the Ontos drove up and across the bridge.” Did you mean to use “driven”…?
Thank you, Tim.
Noted and corrected.
Semper fi,
Jim
Great stuff, I’m really enjoying your book. The granular details on the mixed emotions really make it especially readable.
I do have one suggestion: rephrase “heart of hearts”. That phrase really has been overdone (elsewhere) quite a bit and detracts from the sentence and paragraph. Just my opinion of course. A very powerful installment.
Cheers,
Scott
Thanks for the help Scott and also the compliment.
I am on my way to D.C. for the second part of the honor flight tour.
I have a name tag that says I am a special guest
but really I feel I am traveling among real giants.
Semper fi, and thanks for the kind compliment too…
Jim
Great post! Reminds me of my time on Hill 452 in ’69……RAH!
Thank you, Howard.
Those damn Hills…
Semper fi,
Jim
I wonder Mr. Strauss if going back is a beneficial therapy for you as you relive this for all of us? The constant and unending torment of the leeches, NVA, unpleasant smells, the snake inside! Maybe more like a Dragon inside as it awakens!? This chapter really got me! Find myself wondering what is waiting, coming to harm our Lt. as there are so many possibilities out there. Maybe friendly fire? The Suck of The A Shau and the Bong Song!! Now you are off to “Folds Of Honor”. Thank-You for Serving and for Your Continuing Service!
The people in and around this part of the honor flight experience are unbelievable.
I don’t think ever in my life have I been around such a large group of caring and wonderfully bright and ebullient human beings.
I have humbled and have a smile on my face that will not go away.
What a grand experience.
Semper fi,
Jim
The description of the visible remnants of Puff’s passing was a tangible aspect of your storytelling that I can relate to on a personal level.
The tattered remains fo the battlefield is never hard to recall and I am so happy that none of that
exists back here in the real world. Thanks for pointing out the compliment…
Semper fi,
Jim
Hi LT, I enjoy reading your experiences as usual. Exciting and terrifying at the same time. My brother in law was a crew chief on a slick. Shot down 4 times. DSC. On his second tour he got shot up pretty bad. Damn near lost a leg.
He and I have conversations every once in awhile and chase those demons away.
I pray that your demons go to the appropriate spot and leave you alone.
49 years and finally started leaving me alone more.
Yep, I want your signed books.
Jim
The demons make it tough to get the segments out on a timely basis.
They come like a rush or recede like a departing tide. Some of the guys and gals on here understand and others do not.
Thanks for the comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
As I read and go back in chapters to bring my mind into the mire that the troops are in. Totally impressed with the orchestration of fire power . Lt. Unfortunately i’m starting to think about the worst is yet to come,this ride is coming to an end. Your writing is impressive exposing your strengths and weaknesses.
Looking for revenge for Macho Man then remembering others like Zippo and the contribution they each made. Was honored to be an Escort in 2012 for three vets how unassuming they were for their participation in WW11, Korea and Vietnam. Negative further traffic out.
thanks Wm. Most of the real deal guys have moved long past some of the active angry emotion.
The Veterans Honor Flight proved that and was quite wonderful to be a part of…
Semper fi,
Jim
You made my Sunday morning with another chapter. A fellow AS school classmates crewed our MarLog bird and they often did flare ship duty in and around ChuLai in 68-69. The early version Puffs were cool to watch but be new C130s were something else. Toss in a B52 mission on the wear side of the mountain range a d some Naval gun fire and even a Boston Pops 4th of July concert can’t compare.
Enjoy your Folds of Honor mission -I have talked with the founder several times during my career.
Siempre Do from Dayton NV wishing I was at our home in Ocean View DE.
Thanks ever so much for the great comment Bill, means a lot to me and the Folds of Honor thing was so damned special and great.
Semper fi,
Jim
half the maximum load of powder bags below maximum.
I don’t understand this, is “below maximum” repetitive?
I think we fixed it, Mike
Thanks for your sharp eyes.
Semper fi,
Jim
I wouldn’t be adjusting fire on the barrage. It would come in on terrain I’d already registered, and the battery was fully capable of hitting that particular spot using only half the maximum load of powder bags below maximum
…. I think the last two words in the sentence “below maximum” need deleted ….
In the very inner sanctum of my mind lived the hope that the NVA had taken a beating so badly at the river the night before that might have gone underground to lick its wounds.
…. the night before they might have gone underground to lick their wounds ….
A few solid hits on into the body of the big helicopter and that would be it.
…. few solid hits into the body .. omit “on” ….
…. keep ’em coming LT. ….
Love the attention to the detail, “Doc”
Noted and corrected and thanks for being there.
Semper fi,
Jim
You guys have been up and down that valley so many times I get confused. Never having been there I have a stupid question. Did the blood sucking leeches take as much a toll on the enemy. How on earth did they deal with all the hardships without all the resources we had. Thanks for your fantastic writing of the hardships of war. All this brings to light what my big brother endured in the 199th LIB. Things he never talked about with anyone back home that I am aware of. All he ever told me in his letters home was, “keep your ass in school, you don’t want any parts of this.” I could never have handled such hardship either mentally or physically. Thank you to all the men who endured this shit.
Yes, the enemy had to deal with the leeches and everything else too, but never forget that they had generations to come to accommodate how
to deal with them. And they hand the underground tunnels and caves where they did not encounter them so much.
Thanks for the great descriptive comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
Keep up the good work LT. PUFF was awesome !!!!
Yes, whom would have thought that such a ‘low tech’ idea could be so effective in the field, psychologically on both sides as well as devastating
physically. Thanks for the comment Harold, as I go off to D.C. on an honor flight where I’m supposed to day something. Hmmmmm.
Semper fi,
Jim
Thank you. Great read. My dog is sitting next to me , memorized by the NVA drums. pretty spooky.
Thanks for reading and enjoying, Don
As you know we are narrating the books.
Slow tedious process and they do include sound effects.
Semper fi,
Jim
If this were a book in my hands, i could NOT put it down.
Semper Fi Jim
It will be in prints as soon as I finish, Barry
You know the first two are available autographed and
a discount available on the Third Ten Days when completed.
Two Book Special
Semper fi,
Jim
Intense! Wondering now about Jurgens…
Thanks for keeping them coming!
Saw Puff at work a couple times. The tracers made it look like red florsent paint being poured out of its windows. People say that a rat on a football field would not have a chance! Rich, Huey crewchief 61st. LZ English Bon Song.
Thanks for sharing your experiences, Rich
You and your Huey Crews weres so appreciated.
Semper fi,
Jim
badly and wasn’t likely to have the gift of such s fortified position
…The s is an a in reality…neighbors on the keyboard…
…I tasted the aroma of the dead was strong, it’s sugary bitter smell never leaving my awareness, even as I tried to take in the sweeping combat scenes all around me, as I tried to see what was going on.
…I think if after dead you put , which was strong…it would be easier to read…?
….The play of weaponry, the chopper dropping in, blasting debris everywhere, and the flitting in and out nature of the giant wasp-like and heavily firing Huey Cobras was overpowering.
….the Huey Cobras were either Huey gunships and/or Cobras….or both, but there were no Huey Cobras…
Another great description of the 26th days events…as a CH-46 driver I appreciate your concern for securing the LZ for its supply drop. I respected what you all did in combat and was very glad I only had to participate in ground combat when I was shot down, and that was only for hours until the aircrew was rescued. Keep that keyboard smoking as you speed through the remaining days…heroes all you were except for the anal aperture who wasted Macho man…do the right thing in righting the wrong…
WOW! Thanks for your input on corrections, John
So made.
We all appreciate the valiant efforts of the Huey crews and so glad to hear
your “ground experience” was Short Lived.
Share this story with friends and the younger generations
Semper fi,
Jim
Them drums still fvk with u huh??? Incredible writing sir
Thank you, Christopher.
They were haunting and effective.
Semper fi,
Jim
“…in my sixties’ world…”
That’s all I could find. This installment is gripping!
Thanks most kindly Floyd and also thanks for the editing help. You guys are all I have…
Semper fi,
Jim
“I tasted the aroma of the dead was strong, it’s sugary bitter smell never leaving my awareness,..”
..not sure this is what you wanted..
You are correct. I mis wrote that part a bit. I must get back and fix it. Thanks ever so much Steven.
thanks for the help…
Semper fi,
Jim
Hey Lt. Just finished 26th day, 3rd part. The more I read of this chronicle the more surprised I am that anyone came out of that shit with even half a mind. Won’t tarry much tonight. Just wanted to check in. Am still around. Take care Lt. ..
Thanks for the kindly comment. Not everyone agrees that what I have qualifies as ‘half a mind’ but what the hell..
Semper fi,
Jim
Spent 19 months in country with battalion recon, ran a few patrols in ashau and it’s everything you don’t forget especially the leaches and foot long centipedes plus Rick apes.Saw puff in action more then once complete destruction
Yes, I have not even included all the fauna we ran into, and it was something else, particularly since most of
us had no experience in tropical fauna or flora whatsoever.
Thanks for the input.
Semper fi,
Jim
You’re doing great, sir! Only 4 days to go. Hang in there. We are counting on you. 4 days! If he did it I hope you get your chance in the next 3 days. Well done and thanks for the two chapters so close to each other again. I wasn’t expecting it, but it was most welcome and well received. I wish I had your memory but am glad I don’t have your memories.
“I wish I had your memory but I am glad I don’t have your memories.” That’s screenwriter quality stuff right there.
Does that make one pause to think, or what?
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
Another great read…and another time you’ve left us dangling…waiting on the next segment…Thanks for all of the hard work James…
Yes, the days and nights did indeed ‘dangle’ from one to another, just as I am writing along.
Anywhere I might stop is going to be a dangle because there was no stop to any of it. You went until you died
or got as lucky as I did…
Semper fi,
Jim
another excellent chapter. thank you.
You are most welcome Kathi and I much appreciate the laconic but so sincere comment…
Semper fi,
Jim
This one Lieutenant, caught me sitting outside in blue jeans and a black t watching…
Watching fruit – less pear blossoms waft away from their leaves, on a cool spring breeze softly blowin’. I took in a startled breath when the notification arrived.
Moments later, I smiled. Having realized the third part of the 26th day, had landed I instantly allowed myself to be once again, transported back to the place my brother had but once dared to forever share with me.
Back in the A shua, stuck in the mud and certain to face the demon he’d described, therein. It’s claws pulling me deeper, still deeper with every kick thrown at its unknowable face!
As I read…everything I’d read before caused me to shudder with the realization of the helluva thing Junior had no choice but to do, for the gunny! Despite his own fears, he knew already that the Gunny never had to cover his ass it was patently clear to me that even a marine such as the gunny, needed to face his own truths! And those truths were exactly as my brother had described to me…how he’d always be there to pull “his brother” out of the shit or be found dead, somewhere along the way trying like hell to get back! Back to what his and your marines knew by then was their next best chance at a ticket back to watching pear blossoms fall on blue jeans and black tees…a ticket back, to the world!
So moving, Jim…
As always, I thank you!
Semper fi,
ddh
the usual Hayes stuff. Brilliant. Engaging. Funny and sad at the same time. What a study in literary competency this comment is…
Semper fi,
Jim
Whew, had just caught my breath and you put out another chapter, Thanks LT
Thanks for your patience following this journey, Bob.
Semper fi,
Jim
Fantastic chapter, LT – ya done great!
Here is one guy hoping that Macho Man’s killer answers for what he did.
You really did a great job rounding up and coordinating all that fire power while the -46 came in.
Thanks Craig, I am on an “honor” flight this afternoon to D.C. I’m the keynote speaker, which is different I guess from being one of the vets
in passenger seats. Thanks for the motivation….and support here…
Semper fi,
Jim
Could feel the melee of arty, air and guns. Having flown missions both in guns and slicks.
Flying into an Lz that is taking a beating is thrilling, no time to worry about getting shot at just worry about getting in and out. Those seconds on the ground seem like hours. Then we are up and out of there. Always felt sorry for the guys on the ground, would look at their faces, dirty, torn and exhausted and see, I don’t know what, pain, expectancy, anger at being there or perhaps me for leaving them. Your story tells me their side of the story, the grunts story. Thank you.
For the most part, we loved your guys and the ships you flew. You brought life, and took death away.
You came for us, although sometimes emotions run so high in a real combat zone that people start shooting at anything that
moves…and that can be one our own choppers too…
Semper fi,
Jim
Another great read! Still on edge to read what comes next. Might call you ” Flash” now instead of junior! Many questions remain but I’ll await the rest of the story to find out! Thanks for sharing!
Joe
I did indeed like “Flash” better than Junior but then the meaning of Flash kind of went from
being something out of Flash Gordon to being a ‘flash in the pan,’ so Junior will have to do!
Thanks for the neat comment…
Semper fi,
Jim
In my mind and based on his reputation I already find Jurgens guilty. Great job of coordinating the re-supply,artillery,Puff and Cowboy. I will re-read the chapter later on tonight if for no other reason than with your attention to detail I know I missed a few things.
We were all guilty…which brings us all the way back to here and now…and how we accommodate
that, but there was still a sense of honor and justice in most of us I think…
Semper fi, and thanks for the comment…
Jim
Great descriptive writing.
Thanks
GO Boilers
Love your work! Puff was not an c-130 or even an AC-130. Puff was an AC-47 based on the venerable C-47/DC-3.
thanx, cliff
Appreciate your input Clifford.
Lots of confusion out there.
“the original and unofficial nickname for the AC-130 gunship was “Puff the Magic Dragon” or “Puff.” – The AC-130H Spectre was introduced in 1969 and was used for 46 years in service; the longest service time of any AC gunship.”
“Douglas AC-47 Spooky. The Douglas AC-47 Spooky (also nicknamed “Puff, the Magic Dragon”) was the first in a series of gunships developed by the United States Air Force during the Vietnam War.”
Those on the ground though both were sort of Spooky! ~~smile
We had ’em both
Semper fi,
Jim
I thought it was a C130 because back then I had no clue as to what kind of basic supply plane was used to build the platform…Thanks for the clarification
and help here..
Semper fi,
Jim
There is/was a C-119 version, I saw one shot down right above us in 1975 by the NVA
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fairchild_AC-119
Yes, I have learned a lot since writing the books that I never knew when under fire…
Semper fi,
Jim
Riveting.
The picture you paint with your description of the action makes me feel as if I am right there with you, although I am very glad that I am not.
Although the 30th day is still a few days off, I find myself trying to anticipate what will happen. Trying very hard not to, and just live in the moment like you were forced to.
The vivid nature of the time does come back. I will be on an “honor” flight this afternoon, going to D.C.
I wonder what the vets on that airplane will be like and if I will fit in at all…I am the keynote speaker tonight and
I also wonder what to say to these guys…
Semper fi,
Jim
Well done sir. Another gripping chapter
Absolutely amazing writing. Thank you Sir.
Thanks Edwin, for the motivation to get me through the next few “honor” flight days ahead…
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim, The “simultaneous” actions, found myself reading as quickly as possible, taking noticeably breaths. All the while knowing that this was just the beginning of this action. Not only were your men lucky to have your fire control abilities, so were the helos, et al.
Would be a great “fictional” read, except there was nothing “fictional” about it. Most sincere regards. Doug
I like the fact, in fiction, that the writer can control the outcome. Not so in the Nam.
I had so little control over so much but so much intense control of so little…or what seemed like so little.
Semper fi,
Jim
Wow! Now I can start breathing again. Thank you for another gripping installment.
Thanks Dan, I needed that dose of good will today. I am off on the ‘honor’ flight and have to speak to those guys
later at dinner. What do I say? I guess I’ll think of something…and with your help and the help of so many others on this
magical site…
Semper fi,
Jim
James, There are no words to be said. What needs to be communicated comes from the heart and not the brain. Eye contact. Maybe just shake each person’s hand with feeling. Maybe touch them on the shoulder. A personal connection that says, “I’ve been there. I understand.” Whatever you do, it will be right. Blessings to you and all on the flight.
Thank you, Dan.
The flight was an inspiration to me.
I was humbled.
Semper fi,
Jim
Hey LT, glad you made that trip to D.C., took me 50 years to do it, you might start with a solid welcome home to the comrade in arms there, they’ll know it comes from the heart, they will see it in your eyes, mine were wet most of the time there thinking about my brothers I lost, did you find those precious souls you needed to find? You don’t need to ask their forgiveness, we did what we had to do, welcome home brother
The wall was hard once again,
but it sure as hell made a difference to be there with a hundred brothers in arms or so.
They made my day in D.C. and think the guys on the wall would approve…
Semper fi,
Jim
I knew I would miss the cave badly and wasn’t likely to have the gift of such[ s ]fortified position protecting me again.
[a]
A truly intense chapter even without the enemy firing a shot. One step closer to solving how Macho Man died and why.
Thanks, Pete,
Caught the error and now corrected.
Semper fi,
Jim
Just in case I’ve never told you before, your writing is so dang descriptive that I can smell the death and destruction that surrounds you. I can feel and hear the impact of the artillery rounds impacting. The vibration and whipping of the 46’s rotors. The anger rising towards Jurgens, again. Thank you again Sir, for sharing your story with us. I hope that you understand what it means to us, for all of us that carry the title of Marine, Soldier, Sailor and Airman. Semper Fi LT.
Yes, Mike I do understand. I have never left that feeling of what it means to be a Marine, even though I feel at times that I was not the best of Marines.
So, I write on, as I take an “honor” flight today to help. I am the speaker and wonder what to say. I wonder if any of the guys aboard have read the books.
I’ll take a few along but I don’t feel real comfortable selling books in that environment though.
Semper fi, and thanks for the terrific compliment. I’ll have you guys with me on that plane…
Jim