With Fusner boosting me from behind I got out of the hole I’d taken refuge in. The Gunny’s words had bitten hard, and I wished he hadn’t said them in front of Fusner but there was nothing to be done for it. It was hard to leave the protection of the wet muddy redoubt, dug as a refuge against a deadly outside world. The hole was the only respite I’d had since arriving in country, except for the under-runway cave carved out by the river so many days and nights in the past. That under-the-runway place, with the brief period of time I had there was all that had passed for sleep since I could remember. It seemed as if it existed only in some half-forgotten dream. But the Gunny was right again. I watched him walk away, toward the Marines getting ready to follow the details of my latest plan. I would not be coming out of the A Shau, if I ever did, resembling the young nubile and dumb-as-an-ox young man I’d been when I entered. I moved toward the edge of the jungle, not far from the burned-out wreck of the truck Tex had brought with him to support the Ontos. The site of the low-slung little monster of multiple-barrel recoilless fire reminded me of how ticklish our current situation was. The machine could not be left unattended, so there would have been no moving the whole company down the valley to get Kilo across even if I hadn’t modified the plan.
The Gunny came to where Zippo, Nguyen, Fusner and I were huddled near the jungle’s edge getting ready to begin the operation.
“If the Ontos is left alone, then its ammunition would have to be destroyed and the machine itself permanently disabled,” the Gunny said, starting a cigarette but making no move to join me in brewing a cup of coffee.
I swished my canteen holder around and around over the burning explosive, noting that the Gunny had used the word ‘would’ instead of the present tense ‘will.’ He had no intention of destroying the Ontos and neither did I. I’d missed it though. I hadn’t thought in terms of what to do with that vital piece of weaponry we’d need when we worked our way upriver toward the end of the highway where the abandoned airfield was located. I knew he knew that too, so I just waited, sipping the coffee gently.
“Your new plan takes that into account because we’re leaving one gun with the fire teams right here but you might want to let the Ontos crew know that they need to be ready to fire at a second’s notice or if the NVA attempts to overrun them because we’re gonna be stretched a bit thin.”
The Gunny was throwing me a bone and I knew it. I’d forgotten about the Ontos and what to do about it, much less the fact that it was our own ‘pocket Puff’ in a way. The enemy was afraid of it and it was indeed particularly effective in close situations. There was no outside authority or force that was going to check fire the weapon if we were ‘danger close’ either. The area of the bank that followed down the valley on our side of the river was way too narrow to allow the Ontos to accompany us, and firing indirectly with the untrained crew and no cliff wall to spall chunks off of made no sense. The Ontos had to stay put and it had to be protected.
“Yes,” I replied, acting like it was all part of my plan.
“We’ll go down valley fast when Puff hits again, but probably not quick enough,” the Gunny said, and I knew he was going to go on about it so I stopped him with a comment of my own, and took the whole operation right to the heart of the matter, and beyond the specifics we both knew.
“Can we handle Captain Carter if he’s not agreeable?”
“The only one that’s got any relationship with that man is you, Junior,” the Gunny replied, finally taking his canteen out so he could make some hot coffee of his own.
“Relationship?” I asked, in a bit of mild shock. “He hates me. Hell, all three of them hate me, and I don’t even know them.”
“Well, that’s a relationship, of sorts, or passes for one down in the A Shau, if you haven’t noticed a bit of that… with Jurgens and all. No matter how quickly we get down there and get them across the river it’s going to be too dark to come back, unless we want to risk that kind of move.”
“Six of one, half dozen of another,” the Gunny continued, stirring his hot coffee. “The jungle will be a mass of mangled junk and flesh after Puff comes through again with what’s left of the Skyraider ordnance. Will the NVA have a shot at recovering quick enough to have at us when we move back upriver or will they be better able to hit us after they’ve had a night to recover?”
Even though I’d witnessed up close, almost too close, the stunning capability of Puff to lay waste to a huge swath of land under it, I wasn’t at all certain that the enemy would be as fazed as the Gunny felt. One of the truisms I was learning was that the Vietnamese were much tougher than anyone had led me to believe and much smarter. I’d been lucky to be so unconventional in my amateurish stupidity that they hadn’t been able to figure out what we were going to do next. None of their failures, however, had been because they could not take the heat of harsh killing combat. What’s more, I had no idea how the whole field of play, down at the very bottom edge of the A Shau, had somehow come down to a war against two leaders. One was the leader of the enemy whom I presumed to be tried and true, seasoned by long years of war, while the other was a young second lieutenant who had almost no experience at all. Me. On top of that the NVA units were probably responding with a discipline to everything their leader ordered them to do while my own did mostly what suited their own survival, and if that meant going along with me, then fine, and if it didn’t that was fine with them too.
“Are they ready?” I asked the Gunny, dumping the remains of my coffee onto the mud.
He started talking to his radio operator, so I had to wait
I squatted in my oriental knee-stressing position near the mud. I had come to understand why the locals all used the deep squat so handily and often. It kept the torso low for minimal exposure yet still allowed for rapid movement and escape in an instant if necessary. The leeches burst forth from the mud to revel in the remains of my coffee.
“Why do leeches like coffee?” I asked idly, while I waited for the Gunny to finish his whispered conversation with Tank.
“It’s the cream,” Zippo answered. “You drink that creamer in your coffee and they come out to lap it up.”
I watched the leeches fight over the small pockets of liquid. For one thing the leeches didn’t ‘lap’ anything. They just covered the tiny motes of coffee and absorbed them. I also realized that there was no reason for leeches to like cream. Maybe it was the caffeine I thought. Maybe they wanted to get some sort of energy boost too. I didn’t disturb the small group that had surfaced to join the Gunny and I in having some coffee. We were all in it together. Killing one another or sucking each other’s blood whenever or wherever necessary but we were one, in a way.
“No sense delaying,” the Gunny said, turning back from his radio operator.
“They’ll still be in shock over there, or they’re not human. Puff should be back in minutes for a final run. Get Cowboy to make a run following that and we’ll head on down, laying in the M-60 positions as we go.”
Fusner called Cowboy and got Jacko instead. The Skyraiders were only five minutes away.
“He said that Puff was only a few minutes out but they’d make the run,” Fusner reported. “He said if you kept calling in the other guys then you can’t be Flash anymore, sir. You’ll have to be Jackie Paper, and you can’t be that because that’s who he’s named after.”
The Skyraiders roared over the edge of the eastern carapace in what seemed like less than a minute. This time they dropped regular bombs, littering the torn jungle as they went, the snake-eye paddles slowing the bombs so the planes would be gone when they hit and went off.
The company moved. Once moving it was like working inside a well-made, but greasy and dirty machine shop. The Marines broke off in patches to emplace machine guns as we went. Some of them dug holes along the bank and then moved on while the men who were going to get down in them finished the job. Sugar Daddy, Jurgens and O’Brien, three of the platoon leaders, moved quickly up and down the bank. I didn’t see the other platoon leader and was mildly disturbed that I couldn’t remember his name, and didn’t want to ask anyone. I could remember every dead Marine casualty we’d taken but remembering the living was strangely more difficult.
The Gunny moved with me and my scout team. We took what cover we could from any fire that might come out of the jungle across the river.
Since we were backed right up against the jungle on our right side there was little point in doing much at all with that except hoping nothing would come from the nearly impenetrable mess. I realized, in looking at it go by, that if the NVA had an inkling of what we were up to then even the smallest force inside that mess of twisted foliage would ruin our whole operation in a very terminal way. But nothing came from either side. The going was slow but not too slow. I watched the light start to diminish. I knew we’d actually have a couple of hours of strange twilight because, although the sun would set behind the high ridge, it would still radiate light out over and, by reflection from the clouds and the atmosphere itself, give us enough light to move by.
Fusner turned on his little transistor radio but I made him shut it down as soon as I heard Brother John’s voice. The jungle rising up on our right flank was just too fearful to tempt fate that obviously. There was no way that anyone was going to hear anything we did from across the rushing water, but the jungle next to us was a different matter. The enemy had to know we were on the move, but where we were going, how far we were going and why we were going there would probably remain a mystery until we arrived downriver.
The entire company stopped when the sound of Puff’s deeply throbbing engines filled the valley. The smoke had not cleared from the pall it had made over the center of the jungle when it began its strange conical turn.
“Move,” the Gunny yelled, and we all moved.
I hadn’t thought to give the command, but the Gunny was absolutely right. From its last performance we all knew that Puff could only make three full runs before heading back to base. That gave us a bit less than an hour to get where we were going. Four kilometers along the cleared and flat mud surface, semi-hardened since the rains had stopped, didn’t seem like much of a distance for a Marine company to cover in an hour, but it was. Delaying to emplace guns and dig holes took time. The shattering roar of the first attack began. The company picked up its pace although nobody could possibly not look over across the water to see the giant flaming red and yellow fire hose sweep back and forth, and then around the center of the jungle area.
The attack by Puff was over in seconds, with the plane pulling out of its circular run and heading down the valley, low above the jungle but climbing to higher altitude as it went. I wondered if it was my getting used to the outrageous noisy and deadly attack that made it seem shorter than before.
Fusner nudged me, holding the AN/323 headset as we walked.
“They’re going to make more passes than before so we’ll have more time to make the move.”
I realized that somebody other than me was doing some serious thinking about what was going on. The guys in the air weren’t missing too much, even if it seemed that they could only catch glimpses of our company below, and get snippets of our actions over the radio.
Puff continued to fly in and out, raining down fire in one of its pylon turns, bailing out of the valley, and then arching back to come in again. It was brilliant. There was no fire from the jungle or anyone else anywhere in the valley, and it was giving us the time we needed to get where we had to go. I felt the radiation of the air and jungle mixing in with the vibration of the water that penetrated into the mud from the fast-moving river.
The company stopped just as Fusner announced that Puff was headed back to base. The Skyraiders were still up but holding their ordnance in reserve in case we were under fire when Kilo came across the river. But we weren’t downriver far enough to hunt out a crossing, I knew. Why had we stopped?
Jurgens came running back up the bank, staying low and moving like a cat in brief cuts into the border bracken of the jungle, and then down toward the river, like some ship at sea zig-zagging to avoid a lurking submarine. He came toward me as the Gunny approached from behind.
“They’re there,” Jurgens said, sprawling full length between Zippo and I, breathing heavily while looking back downriver.
“Who the hell is there?” the Gunny asked.
Jurgens didn’t have to answer. Captain Howard “Howling Mad” Carter and his two lieutenants emerged from around a slight jutting mess of foliage spreading out from the jungle growth. They looked like strange creatures from some black and white horror film because of the coming of darkness and the exotic conditions we were all stuck in.
I looked at the three officers moving toward me, all crouching low, and all too tightly grouped together if any enemy soldier was nearby with a single grenade. Their radio operators clustered right behind them. Make that two grenades.
Carter reached my position and crouched down, instructing his lieutenants and radio operator to dig in without speaking to me. The radio operators accompanying the officers went to work with E-tools and mud began to fly.
“This will do as a CP since there’s no way we can reach that Ontos we’ve got upriver before dark. We’ll just dig in and wait out the night.”
I studied the captain closely while he talked and ordered the men. Carter was soaked to the skin, as were all of his Marines. They’d made it across without our help and I was shocked. For some reason, I’d forgotten Kilo was made up of mostly hardened Marines, just like my own company. Adapting to conditions was what they did and they’d done it well.
“You made it,” I whispered, more to myself than to the captain, not failing to note that the man had assumed command of both outfits with his orders and his assumption that the Ontos was now his as much as it was our own.
“Digging in and staying may not be the best idea, sir,” the Gunny said from behind me.
I was surprised. Surprised that the Gunny would offer a criticism that would have to bite deep into the captain’s leadership position and also because, once again, the Gunny automatically referred to Carter using the honorific ‘sir.’ He’d only called me that twice in nearly three weeks and both times I’d earned it with blood.
“Well, Gunny, sometimes staying put is the best solution,” Carter answered, his tone not aggressive or negative in any way, unlike how his voice changed when he addressed me.
“The enemy will recover in the night and here, well, they’re only a hundred meters away across that water,” the Gunny said, this time omitting the sir. “We might move upriver into the night but we’d be doing so to a covered position with the Ontos supporting us and we’d do it while they’re still down and out from the beating they just took from Puff. The Skyraiders could still cover a move even into the dark.”
“It’s called a C-47 gunship,” Captain Carter responded.
“Sir?” the Gunny replied.
“I don’t approve of all these nicknames,” Carter shot back. “There’s no magic at work here, just some rotary cannons stuck into the side of a transport that’s long worn out its welcome in combat.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll have the rest of the men dig in for the night ahead,” the Gunny replied quickly, again omitting the sir and rising to his feet.
It was as obvious to him as it was to me listening that there was no reasoning with the captain.
“Yes, see that you do,” Carter commanded, this time his tone definitely showing he wasn’t happy with the Gunny’s criticism or his use of Puff’s name.
I didn’t know what to say. There didn’t seem to be anything to say, as neither Captain Carter or his two officers even deigned to look, much less talk to me.
I was still struck by how seemingly easily Carter had gotten Kilo across the river. If we’d had to go get them then I’d have had to go back in that river. I shivered and then relaxed at the thought, leaning to the side on my back so I could get my pack off. The crocodiles and snakes in the river and the definite danger of drowning were in the past. I smiled weakly and breathed deeply, even though I knew in my heart that it was potentially bad news that Carter had taken over and, at least temporarily, I was to be under his command.
The Gunny bumped me on my left shoulder with his boot and motioned upriver before walking away with Tank following him in that direction.
I got out of my suspender straps, roughly folded my poncho and followed without saying anything to Carter or his men, who were busy ordering M-60 emplacements to be put in facing the river on each side of the command post.
The Gunny had stopped to wait about twenty meters further on, making it look like he was doing so to smoke one of his cigarettes. I approached and he immediately handed the lit thing to me.
I took my obligatory puff, and coughed my obligatory cough, before handing it back.
“Dig in and get the hell away from them,” the Gunny said, before taking his first inhalation.
“What?” I asked, having no idea what he was talking about.
“You and the scout team, and then the whole damn company in the night, are going upriver,” he said, looking back to where Captain Carter and his men milled about and dug into the side of the river bank.
“What?” I asked again, like an idiot.
“Our M-16’s are all firing tracers and the M-60’s fire one tracer for every four rounds. What’s going to happen is that the NVA are going to shoot across that water and Kilo’s going to return fire. There’s no point, but that’s what they’ll do because they’re new to the A Shau.”
“What’s wrong with that?” I asked. “We’ve got plenty of ammo and we’ll be resupplied later in the morning when we get up to the old airstrip.”
“There’s no point in firing at all because nobody can cross the water. The NVA are going to open up to get shot back at. Then they’ll register every fire hole and every machine gun by watching the tracers, and fire RPG’s over into each one. They haven’t used any rockets, not because they haven’t got them, but because they wanted to save them for just the right time.”
I stared at the Gunny, my mind racing. I hadn’t thought of it. I’d have never thought of it. But it had to be, and if it wasn’t then why take the risk he was right, especially with the full jungle at our back and not knowing what might come out of there at any time? The defensive position was potentially the worst one I’d seen since I’d trapped us on the side of that hill earlier.
“You’ve been here before,” I said, my voice low. “They did this to your unit, didn’t they?”
The Gunny didn’t answer.
“We’re going to be disobeying direct orders in combat,” I finally said. “Again. And what will happen if Kilo gets decimated and we abandoned them?”
“I know you felt really relieved when you realized Kilo made it across on its own. I saw that sympathetic look on your face laying there. I admire that in you, but, slim as the chance is, we may make it out of here alive. The only way we do that is by staying alive through this coming night. Doing what that idiot says we should do is crossing that famous river to the other side. Dig some holes back there and then bring your team upriver to have some chow, or whatever, and the company will wait for you. And that alone, that they’ll wait, is saying something, sir.”
The Gunny walked upriver without turning back, his big radio operator just in back and to the side of him. I could barely see in the distance that Jurgens, Sugar Daddy and O’Brien were waiting for him. I was relieved the Gunny had read me wrong. I hadn’t felt relief for Kilo at all. I’d only felt relief that I was not going to have to die in the river trying to save them. I’d been relieved for myself.
But he’d called me sir again. He didn’t want me to stay and die with Kilo.
“What are we going to do?” Fusner whispered from only a few feet away.
I turned in surprise. I hadn’t been aware of him, and then I saw Nguyen and Zippo only inches from him. All three were staring at me.
“Get back there and dig in,” I ordered, keeping my voice very low, “then we’re going upriver to have a bite with the rest of the company.”
Zippo and Fusner just looked at me before heading back to the CP area. Nguyen paused for a brief second before following. His deep black eyes stared into my own, and then he nodded ever so slightly and was gone.
I pushed myself into the jungle a few yards to relieve myself, and then sat nearby the spot for a few minutes, wishing I still had the Gunny’s cigarette.
What had I turned into? What had meaning anymore? I looked up into the night sky, fast closing in and prayed to God. I prayed that there would be no firing in the night, that the Marines in Kilo would not fire back if fired upon. That Carter would relent and let his men flow upriver to follow the cowardly retreat by my own company. And me with it. God did not answer. If he did then it was through Fusner’s tiny radio speaker. Captain Carter had traipsed off somewhere with his minion lieutenants.
Only their radio operators worked at digging into the bank. Brother John, speaking for God, introduced the last song of the day. The words flowed up to me and then right on by: “Every day’s an endless stream, of cigarettes and magazines. And each town looks the same to me, the movies and the factories,
and every stranger’s face I see reminds me that I long to be…homeward bound...”
Although I knew it was the voices of Simon and Garfunkel, I prayed it was God.
Homeward Bound
Simon and Garfunkel
James, this week I attended a reunion of old soldiers from Vietnam, E Btry. 82nd Arty (Avn) It was instant brotherhood and yes love. Old story’s got better and or wife’s just rolled their eyes. We where kids again!
Then tonight my wife and I sat down for dinner in a restaurant, I was wearing my Cav hat, when the waitress approached and informed us that some one had paid for meal and have said “Thank you for your service” My wife have never experienced this before and I was once again in awe of the change from my two home comings so long ago. What a week.
Now that’s a terrific story. There are some great citizens out here. When I got back from Vietnam and could into my blues for one last time
we went to a restaurant down the coast from San Francisco. Our dinner was purchased in the same way as your own meal. It was wonderful, especially since we were pretty broke at the time. Thanks for the sharing…
Semper fi,
Jim
Captain Morgan had an opportunity to question you, the Gunney, Nguyen, or anyone else in the area with regard to how to survive the coming night. He clearly did not understand the RPG weapon in the hands of the NVA. He did not recognize the range and accuracy of this weapon. You, and the company under your command, stayed alive by staying on the move, and keeping the enemy guessing. You made yourselves hard to kill. This battlefield was no place for beginners.
Actually, the battlefield is so deadly that it attracts beginners all the time.
The biggest beginner problem is the one I found most common and thankfully,
with the Gunny’s help, did not have.
That is the beginner who believes he or she knows.
And that is a very quick trip into how the battlefield teaches.
Combat teaches by killing. Shitty way to learn, even if its others getting killed.
I wonder just how many there really were of those who experienced real combat.
2.7 million served in country. One in seven saw combat, and that would be 385,000 or so.
There were 58 thousand dead and 304 wounded.
That’s a total of 362,000. If you went into combat in Vietnam
you were likely not going to walk out of it on your own two feet.
Semper fi,
Jim
Minor edit – “Our M-16’s are all firing tracers and the M-60’s fire one tracer for every three rounds.
Wouldn’t it be one tracer for every four rounds (of ball ammo)?
Thank you for telling your truth. May many young shavetails read it and learn.
You are most welcome Dan and thanks for being a part of the editing team.
Without you guys I don’t know what I’d do.
Even so, it is really difficult to come to final clean edit before going to the printed copy.
There is no help anymore for publishing books unless you can pay ten bucks a page.
Semper fi,
Jim
When I see a new chapter is out, I stop everything to read it. Keep it up Jim!
Thanks David, then you will be happy tomorrow!
Great compliment…
Semper fi,
Jim
Me, too, David. I’ve been following since the first. Captivating, Lt.
Thanks Jack. You guys being right there is making me be right here…
Semper fi,
Jim
Sir,
A question. Although a CPT, does Morgan really have “Command Authority” over your unit. He obviously isn’t in your COC.
Command authority in the Marine Corps can be problematic. The answer is yes and no.
The yes part is in combat the highest ranking officer is in command of all gathered Marines.
In peace time not so much but still arguements ensue but only if command gets invovled.
By and large the highest ranking officer present is in command…
Semper fi,
Jim
Hi Jim, Thank you for writing this, it helps me understand some men I have worked with. I think I found a couple edits for you. “The site of the low-slung little…” should it be sight? and “Your new plan takes that into account because were….” should it be we’re?
Thanks Evan for joining the editing effort, and also for the blatantly powerful compliment…
Semper fi,
Jim
“Yes, sir, I’ll have the rest of the men dig in for the night ahead,” the Gunny replied quickly, again omitting the sir and rising to his feet.
Yes sir, then omitting….tactical faux pas?
Riveting as ever
Thanks Paul, for the editing, and yes you are right, of course.
And thanks for the compliment…
Semper fi,
Jim
I just finished reading all of the amazing comments to you on this segment. Surely you know now you are never alone while you write. God has sent you so many sincere heart felt comments to help you along with so many prayers that have been said for you. God definitely has His arms around you.
The purpose He has for your story is touching and healing so many including you. It is the most beautiful thing I have ever been witness to read.
God Bless you James Strauss.
Henderson
Thank you so much Nancy. By saying alone, I didn’t mean it that way.
In Vietnam, while leading the men, many if not all that I loved, I felt totally alone.
I felt that at any moment, for all the right reasons, they would jettison me like they had others
who could not be useful to their own survival.
I fought to measure up but in trying so hard to measure up I also grew alone, if you can understand that.
When I was so long in the hospital in Japan and then Oakland, I worked my way out of that aloneness by mostly being alone.
I wrote to the producers of the romance shows that were my daytime television entertainment through the surgeries and the pain.
They wrote back, amazingly. What a different time.
My wife could only make it across the bridge once a week to visit me as we were broke and so was the car.
Tough times indeed.
I am not alone, but I harken in telling the story to back and being alone…
Thank you so very much for the usual supporting and truly caring words.
Semper fi,
Jim
James, what I meant and so poorly said was God was always by your side and placed others around you to protect you. God has remained by your side through out your life and stands next to you as you type your story.
The most beautiful gift God has given you is a loving devoted wife, who has remained by your side through thick and thin. What a beautiful love she has for you.
You don’t need to post this, just clearing up what I meant.
Prayers for you always,
Nancy
Thanks Nancy, and of course I publish everything you say, because you say it so well coming from a wonderful place…
God bless you,
Jim
This is the 46th segment of the second 10 days and not a one of the segments (including all those in the first 10 days) has been anything but riviting.
Thanks again James.
Ken Brown
Thank you Ken. You guys have motivated me in the best way possible so I am churning out another segment tonight and then another tomorrow.
These are tough segments and you’ll see why. It was a tough time and I don’t think the word tough really covers it…although I did not really
become tough from the experience…although I thought I did for awhile.
Semper fi,
Jim
Outstanding. How were you capable of functioning without sleep for days on end? Your exhaustion is palatable as I read and reread each segment. The sound of the river and the grate of the gatling guns from Puff. The smell of the mud and the jungle torn to shreds is here and now. I fear for all of your Marines not making it home. Thank you for another great well written chapter.
I can still function without sleep for quite awhile.
When I came home and got out of the hospital I could go for two nights straight without sleep
and the doctors said that was not really possible. Yes, it is.
We are amazing survival creatures. I began writing to much because I had nothing to do in the
night except guard my family from non-existent threats…
Semper fi, and thank you so very much…
Jim
Interesting that you said: “guard my family from non-existent threats.” Last year I observed an Iraq vet patrol the parking lot and establish a perimeter at a small ice cream shop while the rest of us in the group stood in line and chatted away. His two tours in Iraq were over a decade ago, and, yes, he saw combat. I’ve read all your segments, and all the posted comments, and it seems to me that you are accomplishing as much by demonstrating to other vets that your experiences, both in combat and afterwards, were not unique, but shared by all who actually fought.
I want to thank you for that comment Mark. Unintended consequences.
I never, through all the years, thought my own experiences were
anything but rather exclusive and due to bad fortune.
And then the guys and gals on here started to write and I was blown away.
There are so many of us who went through that wringer.
Thanks for the compliment and putting your deep and interesting thoughts on here…
Semper fi,
Jim
Wow, just when things are looking up. SNAFU or FUBAR if you wish. Sometimes are worst enemy was our officer Corps. D4/31 69-70
Things would perk up for a bit but then reality would set in.
Our casualties were so humongous that we kept losing people who we didn’t want
or need to lose and the burden of continuing just seemed to get
harder and harder.
How was that possible?
I don’t know. Read on…
Semper fi,
Jim
“I wasn’t at all certain that the enemy would be as phased as the Gunny felt.” (fazed instead of phased?)
The crap just keeps getting deeper LT. I am curious as to how this new development is resolved.
Yes, of course, Glenn. Thank you si very much….
Semper fi,
Jim
Interesting as always… but one small criticizm… You wrote ” join the Gunny and I in having some coffee” that should read “me” not “I”
Yes, you are most correct GMSgt! thanks for being part of the most excellent editing crew aroiund…
Semper fi,
Jim
Looks like the best thing to do is register area across from cap Morgan and move toward ontos and when the nva open fire on capt Morgan fire ontos along enemy on far side of river and depending on supply of ammo blast that ares every 15 minutes or so just to keep nva in there holes and give Morgan cover if he get smart and move down river toward ontos.
Funny how it really works out when you are in it. I wasn’t always the sharpest knife in the drawer…
Thanks for those thoughts…
Semper fi,
Jim
Another riveting chapter!
Thank you for sharing your struggle. You describe the scenes with a vivid, absorbing flair that gives the reader a chance to see, smell, and even taste (such as ice cream and spaghetti) your experience. I check everyday to see if you posted a new chapter.
I have not contributed to your endeavor, so I hate to ask for a favor, but I will anyway as others may also benefit. For your consideration, would you be able to provide a rough sketch of the AO. I guess that I’m a visual guy and I crave an image.
Thanks again and please keep them coming!
I have an image from a rough map I just drew myself but don’t know how to put it up on here.
Thanks for the comment. I have your email address so I will sent it as an attachement to that.
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim to get that photo on here, I would snap a pic of it with my cell phone, download that to my computer and paste it in my work. That is unless your computer has a camera built in. Just a suggestion.
I drew a map and sent it to the guy who wanted one of where we are right now. I dont know how to get it up here on this site though.
I will have to ask Chuck in the morning. Thanks Glenn.
Semper fi,
Jim
You know how sometimes you will save a favorite snack until just the right time? That’s how I treat these segments. As something to sit back and savor each and every word, let the sentences roll around on my brain and evoke the memories and images tucked away in so many cracks and crevasses.Leaches, the smell of mud, the bite of burning C4 in my nose. The sharp tang of fear pushed down by the determination to be alive while the boonie rat song plays softly in the background. I’ll buy this when it’s in print and it will join with J. Del Vecchio, M. Baker, M.Herr,J. Clark, and the others until I read it again and again. Thank you LT.
Grand compliments here Rick and I am soaking them up! Sometimes it really helps for guys like you to say things like that to guys like me.
I write mostly alone here, with all my supporting stuff gathered around me. You know the kind of aloneness I speak of because so many of the
combat vets have it. Alone in a crowed kind of a thing. Isolated while I am writing because I’m back there…and that’s mostly back there among
the dead. But this odyssey is forcing its way out and I have to keep on going. Thanks for the motivation to finish today’s work…
Semper fi,
Jim
crowd
Say what?
Jim
In your response to Rick Currier I see resignation and determination to complete this alone or not. The writing on this particular post is crisp, and spell binding. Much like you are drawing a perfect picture for those reading who were never there. Two fold purpose for finishing all three parts. Thank you for tolerating and educating the audience who sleep well like myself. I believe I was purposefully sent to read your efforts by the same God you prayed to that night. You have given me the knowledge to know when to shut up when my boys are talking, so I do not do an idiot stunt that put walls between us. Thank you to all the Spectre guys out there carrying the lead these days.
James, you are some kinda really smart Dude, great writing, Sir. Poppa
Poppa J. You are a pretty sharp cookie yourself and a pretty good writer too.
Thanks you for the intelligence revealed in this responding comment.
I have found so many sincere and real people communicating with me on here.
It’s kind of shocked and blown me away. And the care and sensitivity has been
amazing, not to mention how good the writing of so many are when they speak from the heart on this site…
Thanks you!
Semper fi,
Jim
I know just what you mean Lt. I go to bed around 0400 because I get so much time to do as I wish. I remain on watch as I drift over my life’s memories. You pen paints a vivid picture, in full living color, and says “There it is.”
Thanks Rick, yes, us late night fellow travelers through life. Thanks for the compliment about the writing and making it on here…
Semper fi,
Jim
Random thoughts continually popping up as I read this chapter. One wonders why you or the Gunny did not ask Morgan to have a private chat and discuss the possibility of the VC siting in on Kilo’s position? While the captain wanted to flash his authority about in giving orders, there was a good chance that he would have listened and considered what the Gunny had to offer in private, at least for his men if nothing else. Hind sight is 50-50 though, isn’t?
Then too, there is the question of protecting the Ontos, which was a vital piece of equipment. Did Morgan have any men in his company that were proficient with that vehicle? The VC certainly had time to zero in on that weapon as well, so it would need to be moved to a more strategic position as well as both companies of marines.
Then there is the position and area that has been more insecure then any other near the air strip and river. One wonders how many American troops lost their lives in that area since Special Forces first arrived? It would seem that the hillside that both your company and Kilo descended into the A Shau valley, was loaded with caves and VC’s who set up ambushes as the troops entered into the valley. They now have that hillside, while your troops have their backs up against the river. On the other side of the river is another group of VC. Looks like they have a cross fire advantage.
We are left hoping that you still have artillery support for the nighttime fireworks sure to erupt.
The Gunny was not a real talkative guy, and he had little interest in educating anyone who was
not directly involved with his own unit or survival.
He was impressed that I was concerned about other units but not to the point of going as far as to bother trying to talk to Morgan.
The Ontos was sort of self protected in that it could move about a few meters here and there
but also because the enemy did not want it to shoot back. Funny how often that worked on both sides.
The hill sides were not so filled with tunnels as the
valley floor and up over the top edges of the highlands.
And our artillery would not drop in over that cliff from back in An Hoa
(because it was near the end of the howitzer’s range and indirect high angle fire does not work that far out).
The 175’s were beyond the end of their range even using a red bag load.
Whew. You make me work J!
Semper fi,
Jim
In analyzing your current situation, one was trying to figure out how both companies would establish a secure area under the present situation. No fort to go to or a place to hide, while the Indians were circling. Looks almost like Custers last stand.
Having seen the vast tunnel systems in Vietnam, one assumed there would be plenty of tunnel entrances and exists, leading from within the mountain ranges. In your descriptions of the valley floor and the raging Bong Song, it would seem that tunnels would be flooded along the valley floor. Fox holes and trenches would not last long if dug too deeply. Oh well, that is what assuming will get you, lol.
From a strategic point of view, it would seem more plausible for both companies of marines, to move within the range of supporting artillery as the aircraft were not always dependable with all of the rain and evening cover. Time to dee dee mow out of that hell hole!
Very analytically presented, this argument about tunnels.
They had tunnels all over it is true but they had some problems for certain.
The could not tunnel through rock nor in areas where the water table was too high.
And flooding in a tunnel system is nothing to laugh about either.
So there were some limitations. Also, it is hard to just get up and move against orders not to move.
You can get around some of it but not all of it when you are out there.
Semper fi, and thanks, as usual,
Jim
I was a navel reservist HM3 corpsman attached to a Recon Marine Unit. 1971 Thur 1976. Did not go to Vietnam. Always felt guilty about that. After reading about your tour, I am glad that I did not go. I thank you for your service Sir. I would have been proud to serve under you. Anxiously waiting for the next chapter. Wes
I am glad that you did not go either.
And a whole lot of the guys on here that feel bad that they didn’t go.
You are here reading this. Let the price those of us who went, most unknowing,
enjoy the fact that you are writing on here.
Semper fi,
Jim
Some of the names have slipped my memory, but their faces will always be burnt in to my mine>
Semper fi, Jim
Yes, and so it is with us all Dean…and thanks for writing that up on this wall…
Semper fi,
jim
Jim, I’m an engineer and don’t do grammer, but this sentence feels like it needs something: I would not be coming out of the A Shau, if I ever did, resembling the young nubile and dumb-as-an-ox young man I’d been when I entered.
Also, a double “that”:There was no outside authority or force that that was going to check fire the weapon if we were ‘danger close’ either.
Another GREAT installment! Thanks for sharing.
Appreciate the mention, Richard…..
What many do not realize is that question, “if I ever did” was
in the mind of so many day to day….
Maybe will ‘massage’ it a bit
And the double THAT has been corrected.
Semper fi,
Jim
I think that that that, that that LT typed….is good English.
Thanks Joey and for writing it on here too…
Semper fi,
Jim
Once again an excellent chapter. I intend to buy you book The Bering Sea. You Sir are an excellent writer. Keep them coming.
Thank you, CySgt Smith.
The paperback is now available
Bering Sea
And digitally on Amazon
KINDLE
Lt. Do you ever wonder if the souls of those KIA in the valley still wander looking for answers that will never come?
I don’t know what to think.
I know I don’t understand the universe much at all, and I thought I did when I was younger.
Do we really die completely or go on in some other form?
Do the spirits of the dead stay or go or cease to exist?
I don’t know. I know the A Shau is over there and yet I feel no pull back toward it.
I could go and I could walk the walk and probably recognize little because so much has changed.
I don’t know about sitting by the Bong Song overnight and waiting for ghosts.
I left a lot of rather disgruntled folks behind back in the day.
I can’t imagine it would end up being a great party….
Semper fi, and thanks for the cute but deep thought….
Semper fi,
Jim
We can’t go back. It would only serve to disappoint and to antagonize even more. They won’t be there – our friends, our comrades, our antagonizers, our enemies. Our memories are and will continue to be all that is left. The bong song of today is not, and at the same time is the same as it was those many years ago. But what was done and seen those many years ago is long gone, and not to be found again. There is nothing there for us today, and any reconciliation that we fantasize in our minds would be greatly disappointed. We would find ourselves standing on the banks of the river alone. Searching for something, some peace, some explanation. But it would never come. Just as we cannot go back to our home town and expect it to be the same. But your writing, sir, continues to tear at me. I want you to come home. I want your whole company to come home. I know you do, because I am reading your story. I know that this story will come to an abrupt end soon, and I am glued to your story. And a part of me is greatly disappointed because I know that part of that story is going to continue without being shared. But I sit on the edge of my seat waiting for the next chapter…
No better compliment has been penned on here in some time, Marshall. Nice writing and great sentiment…from my perspective, of course.
Thanks ever so much for getting to the heart of the revisitation matter, visiting the wall disappointments and more. It is tough to
come back but not come back and then there’s the change of it all but not in our minds. Thanks for loving the work and I am
getting up another segment today. Now that God loaned me my eye back!
Semper fi,
Jim
“I took my obligatory puff and coughed my obligatory cough, before handing it back”. And you Sir, like everyone else, does what you have to do to stay alive. Semper Fidelis LT.
Yes, exactly Mike. Whatever it took under whatever conditions existed. Thanks for the attentive observation and for writing it on here…
Semper fi,
Jim
Nailed it! The connector, between generations. The difference between the tail end of the greatest generation and the one that would follow. I’m well past allowing anyone to distract from the truth you deliver, sir! The connector to which I refer is best described by the deft manner in which it is woven into your story but I’ll illustrate it this way…Against all odds, we look upward to see the clouds disperse to stars that shine brighter for every man that puts good over evil for having chosen right over wrong. Obliged to challenge death not merely for having looked it in the eyes…yet for having used it to a man’s advantage in the night and the day…by dragging it with him as a reminder…life is no more promised than the alternative…only the will to live matters in the here and now, for knowing “someday will never come”. Ours is the last generation that integrated the sounds of life’s muse in order to fight another day…Viet Nam has been linked to loss…yet it is the palpable truth you reveal in your story Mr. Strauss…that links all of us in forgiveness for the sake of the next generation. Well done, my good man…well done!
You know, Dennis, sometimes I read better stuff than I think I could write. Your work brings that to the front of my mind.
You have a talent, not just in the writing but in the intellect that is the foundation for that writing. Thank you for the great compliment and thank
you for the writing which has reached and entertained me while giving me pause for thought…
Semper fi,
Jim
Semper fi brothers to the end i started healing after 50 years
Yes, those of us who made it through to this point can take some solace in actually
coming to terms with what really happened and forgiving ourselves and those around us.
Hard though. Damned hard.
Semper fi, brother,
Jim
Hard though. Damned hard.
Amen.
70 years old and it still seems like some things never change, but I hope, I hope…
Yes, it is a bitch that some things do not fade with age while others, more pleasant, fade away entirely!
Thanks for the cogent comment…
Semper fi,
Jim
Hard though. Did I make the right decision, to keep moving or open up (M60)… Moving in the dark of night where we shouldn’t have been. LT in the lead on the wrong trail, (He had done it before in the day light). Can I let it go…NO! This time 2 KIA, 4 WIA out of the 12 man team…
It was indeed a troubling time of ugliness and downright stupidity,
but what could you do?
Semper fi,
Jim
What had I turned into? What had meaning anymore? That really hit home James.
I think at one time or another, “maybe” even more than once or twice. many of us felt the same.
Thank you sir, for another engaging read on the edge of my seat.
SEMPER Fi
Real life shit. Self-analysis before real therapy ever was considered or could be applied.
Thanks for the comment and its usual accuracy and meaning.
Plus the compliment, of course…
Semper fi,
Jim
Well done , Captains ? What can you do with them ? Sometimes worst than shave tail lieutenants ,good thing you can read the situation . Another cliff hanger – thanks .
Many captains came stright in like 2nd lieutenants, yet with their higher rank,
thought they should command more respect and had more knowledge. Didn’t work out that way
at all…so not tham many of any seniority came out into the bush…unless banished like some of us
lower down. Thanks for the accurate conjecture and analysis…
Semper fi,
Jim
Two tours Vietnam. 1966-67 and 1968-69. Hated RPGs.
Sgt. Ronald Atwood
USMC
Field portable, longer ranged than one might think and devastating agaisnt personnel if anywhere close by.
At least make you deaf. RPGs were a brilliant creation of the enemy, a take off on old recoilless rifle and
rifle grenade technology. Thanks for your comment this, as obviously you saw a few used in the field…
Semper fi,
Jim
The difference between wisdom and knowledge is simply humility. Knowing when to admit to a problem we all suffer from, ignorence. It is truly fortunate that your marines had such a wise leader as yourself. And again, great writing.
Thank you Patrick.
The definition of wisdom has to be made at a future time because when you are in the shit
it sure as hell does not seem that way.
It’s hard to convey how scared I was or how quickly I became cold and hard-bitten to so many things
that it would take me years to unravel and back up on…
Thanks for the great comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
Unless I have missed something I’d say you have slid out the frying pan into the fire , but staying out of the fire for a while.
Very accurate conclusion Bill. Yes, these are some hot times in the old town…or down in the A Shau…
Semper fi
Jim
Well…another outstanding segment…you do have something going for you when the Gunny calls you sir and says that the company will wait on you. Morgan is leading his men into the river Styx…I have a feeling that Charlie is going to crawl out of his hole and do just what Gunny said, and Morgan, not knowing any better will respond and all hell will break loose. I knew some like Morgan…officers that acted like they knew everything and were in control of everything when, in fact, they knew nothing at all about the enemy or his capability. You have me on the edge of my seat again waiting for the next segment. Onward and upward!!!
The company vacillated back and forth about me and, like a cat, would not let me know directly that they gave a damn
at all, and like Nguyen too, but some would die for me and I didn’t even know it until they did….and what do you do with that?
Thanks for the great comment…
Semper fi,
Jim
I cannot truly fathom the responsibility you felt for your men, not really knowing them, but they willingly trusting you with their life.
That trust could have easily crippled you, at best it only aged you tremendously.
With every chapter my admiration for you grows.
It was a strange thing, to be given the responsibility of bunch of frightened children
and be one yourself in the midst of living hell.
It was and remains hard to deal with but I am convinced that almost nobody knows what really
goes on in the field because survival rates are so low and the guys coming out just want to go home and shut up.
Thanks for the depth of your comment
Semper fi
Jim
“We were all in it together. Killing one another or sucking each other’s blood whenever or wherever necessary but we were one, in a way.” WOW! An especially well written piece. Regarding the ground situation – if you had stayed in place with Kilo then the M-60 positions that had been placed along the route of march would have been left alone for the night??
I cannot write about what is to come until I write it in the next segement. You will see how it played out and your questions will
be answered. Thanks for the deep thought and the accurate conjecture…
Semper fi,
Jim
I hope you can keep up this tempo LT, I am really engaged in these events and you are telling the tale with great clarity.
Ed. Note:
“Are they ready?” I asked the Gunny, dumping the remains of my coffee onto the mud and started talking to his radio operator.
Can’t tell who started talking to his radio op.
Got it Ssgt and fixing…
Semper fi,
Jim
Another great segment Jim. Follow the Gunny, he has been there and done that before, he’ll keep you alive.
A C-47 went over Sunday and made one of their tight turns, sounded just like you described, just no guns working, It has been at some of the local air shows lately. Glad your eyes are letting you work again.
Thanks Mike. Go on Amazon and get my new book called The Bering Sea. Read it and comment on Amazon if you will.
That will help me, aside from the help I get and boost from comments like your own.
Thanks!!!
Jim
“The Bering Sea”. Ordered it yesterday, looking forward to reading it in book form. Jim, i’ll comment when I am done reading it in book form. I don’t know how you have time to do all the writing and write comments. I believe you love to write.
Yes, when I take a break Mike it is usually to write!
Thanks for reading the work and for saying what you say on here…
Semper fi,
Jim
LT it seems that fate has ordained you as a magnet for incompetent brass types that have no rhyme or reason or deserve their rank. Except for a few of you guys, sir.
I think they were all over the place in Vietnam Tony. There was no place to get any experience or anyone to train or even
talk to you about the real shit before you ended up in the real shit yourself. And fear is not a great teacher. Everyone reacted
to the terror differently. I am more forgiving today then back then…
Semper fi, and thanks for the great comment.
Jim
Morning Jim, Yes, It’s going to be smoke and fire in the night, Time to didi mau! Haul Ass! and the theme song for tonight from Brother John;
“Fire And Rain”
Just yesterday morning, they let me know you were gone.
Suzanne, the plans they made put an end to you.
I walked out this morning and I wrote down this song,
I just can’t remember who to send it to.
I’ve seen fire and I’ve seen rain. I’ve seen sunny days that I thought would never end.
I’ve seen lonely times when I could not find a friend, but I always thought that I’d see you again.
Won’t you look down upon me, Jesus, You’ve got to help me make a stand.
You’ve just got to see me through another day.
My body’s aching and my time is at hand and I won’t make it any other way.
Oh, I’ve seen fire and I’ve seen rain. I’ve seen sunny days that I thought would never end.
I’ve seen lonely times when I could not find a friend, but I always thought that I’d see you again.
Been walking my mind to an easy time, my back turned towards the sun.
Lord knows when the cold wind blows it’ll turn your head around.
Well, there’s hours of time on the telephone line to talk about things to come.
Sweet dreams and flying machines in pieces on the ground.
Oh, I’ve seen fire and I’ve seen rain. I’ve seen sunny days that I thought would never end.
I’ve seen lonely times when I could not find a friend,
but I always thought that I’d see you baby, one more time again, now.
Thought I’d see you one more time again.
There’s just a few things coming my way this time around, now.
Thought I’d see you, thought I’d see you, fire and rain, now.
Yes, Gunny has it down, You are still responsible for your command first last and always, What is going to land on Morgan in the night will be terminal…….Charlie is hungry and Morgan is calling down the thunder, and the NVA will give him the lighting and whirl wind …… Everything He deserves, Now for his grunts, I have nothing but sympathy, The world is going to fall on them in the night …… and the dying time will commence.
Semper fi/This We Defend Bob.
Thanks for the lyrics and the comment. The words of those old songs resound through my mind and emotions every time I hear them.
Funny how that old music plays all the time and even young kids still play and like it.
Semper fi,
Jim
I had tried to not read these chapters as they came out, so I could buy the next book when finished.
I couldn’t do it though, I am reading and enjoying them all. Still plan on buying the books yet to be published and re-reading everything.
Thanks to you and all the veterans for your service and for my freedom.
About the highest compliment to the writing Tom. You know, I am never sure about even one segment. My wife will ask me if I’m done
and I’ll tell her yes. Then she’ll ask me if it’s a good segment and I’ll say I don’t know. I’m answering her the truth but she will not
listen, insisting I must know. But I don’t, until I read the comments you guys write. Then I kind of know…and thank you so very much
for letting me know…
Semper fi,
Jim
AS a lowly E-5 you made the right move !!!!
Thanks a lot Harold. Do me a favor and go on Amazon and get a copy of my latest novel called The Bering Sea and leave a comment.
Thanks for writing on here…and liking the work.
Semper fi,
Jim
Another great chapter, LT. Just keeps getting better. Always look forward to the next one.
Kimball
Thanks Kimball, your words here keep me going…
Semper fi,
Jim
There is or was no greater feeling than going home! Hours of boredom seconds of terror. I still don’t know how I survived but know it as divine! Great read excellent share Jim thanks 4 ID 69&70
Going home, even on that Starlifter flying into Travis and stapled in a plastic sack against the bulkhead.
I knew I’d hit the tarmac and was in California. I knew my wife would be waiting. I knew I was never ever
going to be like I was before but I hoped and prayed that I and it would be close. That I could not have been
more wrong would play out as I discovered that the changes to me were simply too severe to let me come home.
I came back and then tried to build another home out of the what I thought of as the carnage of America. But it
was me. I was just too whacked out to fit in again. And here I am, writing to others like me. No, I never came back
out that valley and I never made it home. I’d gone to far…and here I am…
Semper fi, and thanks for the terrific comment…
JIM
Man that is a heavy statement! Like so many combat veterans! God speed brother!
Thanks, I think, Dan! Thanks for the well wishes and the compliment of your coming on here to write and then write back.
Semper fi,
Jim
You ever allow yourself the time to think through maybe we weren’t the fuked up people?
68 through 70 was a messed up reality warp back in the States where values changed, and children began to run Universitys while Draft evaders put their lock on Public Education. We arrived in a strange land we no longer knew where warriors were moved up to be the minority it was OK to discriminate against. We had been purposely of news of “home” and we returned to a land of streets with the same names, but a different reality. We arrived to a place where “Home” was just another 4 letter word, and we had damn little ability to contend with the new place.
We’d been expended, worn out, and now we were surplus government property. All that was left was to shed us so we didn’t continue to be an expense to Uncle Sugar.
Perspective. We came home, those of us who really fought, with a totally changed perspective. Remember how few of us there really were.
And the nation was totally in flux and changing while we were changing.
Semper fi,
Jim
More stressful, (and hopefully successful) three-dimensional, and cliff hanger to cliffhanger battlefield chess taking place. Simply mind-boggling for me to be put in your shoes and get a glimpse of understanding as to what you guys faced–day by day, even minute by minute. I wonder what was going on with the leadership of the NVA…did they have officers trying to figure out you and your moves and intentions.
Every time I read a new and addicting episode of yours I say a deeply heartfelt “thank you” to you and all our guys who served in Vietnam.
Hey, do me a favor Walter. My latest novel about my CIA work later on is called The Bering Sea and just came out on Amazon today.
Order it, read it and then comment on Amazon. That will help me a lot…
Semper fi, and thanks for the great comment and compliment…
Jim