I crawled toward where I thought the cliff wall was in the darkness. The rain was unpitying and the drums were driving me insane, as the sound was magnified, bouncing back off of the cliff face. All of a sudden, I was out of the rain and the jungle floor turned into a packed and mostly dry mat under me. I’d reached the wall, to discover that the cliff face was worn away at its base. The rain could not reach me directly. I scurried up one way and then back the other. The seemingly beaten path, no doubt invisible from anywhere, unless you were a few feet away, was not mined. It was another indicator that, so far, the only casualties suffered in the Night Moon Plan had been from our own fire. So far. The patrol still out there on the other side of the river plagued me. Three fire teams and a squad leader. Ten men, or more. Were they still making their way upriver thinking the company had remained on the move or were they hunkered down as well? And then there were the drums. I’d seen drums used in old cowboy films. Some Indian tribes used them against the settlers and cavalry. The drums had meant almost nothing in the movies. But the reality of having the vibrations reach right inside of my very core was something else again. I didn’t shudder at the thought, but I wanted to. My hands were not shaking either, but maybe that was a function of my movement to get away from it all. There was no getting away from anything, however. Fusner, Stevens, Zippo, and Nguyen all wedged in against me at the bottom of the wall so closely that we were all touching.
Click on ‘arrow’ and listen to the drums
I moved away from the rock wall and felt the berm of jungle bracken in front of me with my hands. The berm was possibly eight or ten feet in distance from the base of the wall. It was perfect. Any fire from across the river, or even from this side of the river would impact the berm, if fired low, and thereby not be able to strike the angled rock above us. Without the berm, our position would have been untenable because of the danger of ricochets spattering down.
The Gunny crawled into our midst. I only knew it was him because of his gravelly “make a hole,” comment as he rolled.
“How serious is the captain’s wound?” I asked the Gunny.
“He’ll live,” the Gunny replied. “Took a hell of a bong on his helmet but he’ll be back.”
“Medevac material?” I asked, trying to keep a note of hope from seeping into my voice.
“Nah, but his cage is going to rattle for quite a while.”
“Zippo, I want you to go up and down the line and tell everyone to dig in as best they can,” I ordered, once again feeling like I was somewhat in command. “This night is a long way from over.”
Zippo dropped the scope case and his pack and was gone, or at least that was the appearance in the darkness the sound indicated.
“The radio was lost in the river,” I informed the Gunny. “Our squad’s over there without communication and they can’t know we’ve stopped. What do we do?”
“Who told you that?” Fusner asked, his voice seeming like it was coming from far away, but he was only a few feet from where the Gunny had forced his way between us.
“What’s wrong with your voice?” I asked back.
“The drums,” Fusner replied.
I realized that Fusner, a kid who’d been through so much direct fire and carnage, was more terrified of the drums than he was actual combat.
“Easy,” I said, softening my tone. “They’re only drums, and they’re beating them to scare us.”
“I know,” Fusner replied, although he sounded a bit less shaky. “And it’s working.”
Stevens laughed softly out loud. The Gunny joined in, and I went along because I thought making humor about it might help.
“Jormo’s over there,” Fusner said, “I talked to him on the frequency after all the explosions.”
“You were there when Sugar Daddy said that the radio was lost in the river,” I replied, my forehead a mass of frown lines.
“How would he know?” Fusner shot back.
“How would he know what?” I asked, not getting it.
“How would anyone know that the the Prick 25 was lost in the river unless they were along on the patrol? With the radio gone there’d be no way to call back.”
That stopped me. Fusner was right. There was no way Sugar Daddy could know. I breathed in and out deeply. Was there a squad across the river at all? Had Sugar Daddy disobeyed my order, to preserve his men? Was it like what he’d allowed at the listening post the night before?
“Can you bring Jormo up on the radio now?” I asked, strangely hoping Fusner was right. If the squad was not across the river, then they didn’t need to be brought back. And there was no need for having flank security on the other side because of how solid and fortified the company’s natural position now was.
“Batman to Jormo, over,” Fusner said, into the handset I couldn’t see.
“Batman?” I whispered. “Who’s Batman?”
“Me, sir,” Fusner replied, in a tone that told me he was slightly embarrassed by the question.
Fusner called again. We waited for some reply, while I thought about the fact that I was Junior while my teenage radioman was Batman. There was no justice in the combat universe.
“Got you, Batman,” came over the small handset speaker, barely loud enough to be heard.
“You want to talk to him, sir?” Fusner asked.
“No, just get a position from him,” I replied. “Tell him we’ve stopped temporarily since we don’t know who may be listening in.
Tell him to get his squad back across the river if he’s over there.”
Fusner talked back and forth for a few minutes before stopping to talk to me again.
“They’re over there he says, sir,’ Fusner replied, “because Jormo says the river’s higher now and they’re going to have trouble crossing.”
“We’ve got to go and get them,” I said.
“Go and get them?” the Gunny, Stevens, and Fusner all exclaimed, at the same time.
“They can’t stay there alone for the night,” I said.
I didn’t say anything further because I couldn’t think of anything. How to get the men back? In the Basic School, our trainers had spent a lot of time making us do these awful tests after hard runs. The tests had secretly been to see who would take over as a leader and not about how the Marines officers handled accomplishing the tasks together. But one of the tasks had been similar to what we were facing. That test had been about getting a wounded Marine across a raging stream of water. There had been props though. A rope that reached across the water and some sealed five-gallon buckets that floated, and one long pole. None of us who were in the experiment were allowed to touch the water because it was highly radioactive. My idea of having one of us pole vault over was rejected but the real leader of our group. Ten minutes later we were all declared dead by the course instructor. The instructor told me that the pole vault idea had been brought up before in other classes and had not worked because no regular person was good enough in pole vaulting. It was not good leadership to sacrifice one Marine to save only one other Marine.
“Do we have any rope?” I asked.
“We don’t need any rope,” the Gunny replied. “You screwed up with the artillery fire, so let it go.”
I stopped trying to come up with a workable plan and turned to face the Gunny in the dark.
“What?” I asked, not understanding what he was getting at.
“You want to make up for whatever casualties we took here by saving the squad,” the Gunny repeated. “You’re the company commander right now. It’s not your job. You have a whole company of Marines. It’s their job to take your orders. It’s not your job to rush off into the night and make another mistake, especially if there’s no squad over there.”
“What makes you so certain those men aren’t there?” I asked, with my trepidation, with anything Sugar Daddy was involved in, fully returning.
“The river’s not higher yet because it’s too soon,” the Gunny said, “and how would anyone know if it was higher in this darkness? The radio could be anywhere, and it’s supposed to be at the bottom of that river. Do the math.”
“Shit,” was all I could think to say.
“If you want proof then have them fire a few rounds,” the Gunny went on, “then you’ll know for sure.”
“Fusner,” I ordered.
“They’ll give away their position if they’re over there,” he replied, waiting for my answer.
“Do it,” I ordered.
Fusner made the call several times but there was no response. After the third attempt, I stopped him.
“They’re not over there,” Fusner said very quietly.
“What now?” I asked the Gunny, feeling like an idiot.
I was out of ideas, my mind so wrapped up at being angry at Sugar Daddy that I couldn’t think straight.
“You were right about the fact that they’re planning an attack,” the Gunny said, changing the subject. “It makes all the sense in the world. We’re in the middle of their playground. We haven’t had a successful LZ or firebase in this valley since I was here last time. They’ll hit us tonight, just like they do almost every night. They didn’t have time to get set up properly, but that won’t stop them.”
“Maybe we should have kept on pushing to the old LZ,” I said, remembering how natural it had seemed to stop when I’d found the natural protective position of the wall overhang. “If they attack they have to come at us from upriver or from across the river.”
“I’ve got to find out how many casualties we have before we think about moving,” the Gunny said. “The captain’s down, but he’ll be back in rare form sometime soon. We’re not in a bad place here and time is no issue, so making that call was a good one. Like we’re going to have a hell of a mess trying to get resupply and a medevac down here no matter where we are, anyway. And the gooks won’t come from upriver,” the Gunny concluded.
“Their point of ingress there would be too narrow, and Fourth Platoon will have that area covered with half a dozen M-60s. No, they’ll come across the river. It’s their river and they know it well.”
“So we use overlapping machine gun fire?” I asked.
“The jungle growth here’s low but heavy,” the Gunny replied. “It’s our friend for cover and concealment, but our enemy for allowing open fields of fire. I hate to send out posts closer to the water because the area of the bank is pretty narrow, fully exposed to fire from the other side, and it’s black as hell out there. Our position is solid but still not the best.”
“Artillery,” I whispered. “The same shit that fell on us can be brought down on them.”
“Yeah, if push comes to shove, but it sure as hell won’t help your popularity if the whole cliff wall comes down on everyone’s head.”
I didn’t bother to respond to the Gunny’s blunt conclusion. His reply seemed right in line with the thrumming evil of the distant drums. I reached out my hand and touched a nearby hanging branch. The vibrations of the awful drums radiated through the wood. Without even being close to us, the enemy had figured out a way to make contact and to drive its message of impending death home. My hands started to shake. I was glad I’d written my letter home. I felt down my leg to make sure it was in my thigh pocket. I couldn’t write properly when my hands were shaking and now wouldn’t have to until late in the following day.
“I’m going to start with Fourth Platoon. I know damned well he never sent that squad across, and I’ve got to talk to him about that to make sure. If they’re over there, by some bizarre chance, then they can stay hidden there until it’s light. Visibility and sound detection is down to zero.”
“Talk to him?” I hissed at the Gunny. “This is a whole lot more serious than talking to him is going to fix. That asshole directly disobeyed orders under fire for the second time, risking the whole damned company. He ought to be shot on the spot.”
“Yeah, like you,” the Gunny said right back.
“Me?” I replied, startled by the vehemence expressed in his cryptic answer.
“You countermanded Casey’s orders,” the Gunny said, going back to his normal voice. “It was the right thing to do, but Casey’s not going to think so. Sugar Daddy’s trying to save his own men, just like you.”
“This shit can’t work,” I declared in exasperation. “Everyone can’t just do what the hell they want, or we’ll all get killed. Somebody has to be in command.”
I was talking to myself. The Gunny had slipped away when he finished saying what he had to say. Was Sugar Daddy right if he hadn’t sent a squad? Was I right to overrule Casey? Were the two of us really any different? The rain and the drums, and the thought of God knew how many casualties we’d taken from the short rounds, made me even more miserable than normal. I laid with my back pressed into the rock, feeling the idiotic drum beats, wondering if my life could get any worse.
Fusner and the team put up ponchos, somehow hanging them out from the outcrop to give protection from the ceaseless and permeating rain. I worried about the poor visibility and not being able to hear an approaching enemy with the company’s extreme fatigue thrown in. I checked my Speedmaster to discover it was midnight.
A single shot rang out from the direction of the river. It’d been an AK round I knew instantly. The stygian black of night was gone along with the pouring rain. Only a heavy moving mist blew in from under my suspended poncho. I checked my watch again. It was almost five a.m. I’d been gone for almost five hours. I’d slept. Somehow, in the depth of my misery, I’d slept. Then I noticed that the drums were gone. There was the sound of more enemy fire until an M-60 opened up.
I pulled out my .45, my hands no longer shaking. Fusner pushed the radio handset into my side. More machine gun fire began up and down the line. The attack was on. The NVA must have crossed the river I knew, but I was hesitant to call Cunningham with a contact mission until I was certain. Whatever the damage to the company I’d caused earlier I didn’t want to repeat. There was also the density problem to consider, as well. If the air density was less, with the mist instead of the torrential rain, then the incoming fire might not explode against the side of the cliff. If I dropped the rounds to make that happen, and I dropped them too far, then they could possibly explode as far down the wall as our position.
The firing increased in volume. Grenades started to explode up and down the line. I surged forward to the mound of jungle bracken in front of me, dragging Fusner along. Suddenly, it occurred to me what I had to do. I called in the contact mission but asked for illumination rounds to be fired, dropping the distance by two hundred meters. The night was about to become a swinging shadow version of the day up and down the river. The NVA was coming at us in a frontal attack with a deep river at their backs. I felt some semblance of confidence overriding my deep terror of being trapped against the base of the cliff with a bayonet thrust into my stomach. For the first time, I felt the power of being part of a Marine rifle company. There was going to be no quit and no quarter in what was coming.
The illumination sailed in, the canisters whooping through the air, one after another, and then impacting with great metal clangs against the side of the cliff, the sound similar to that of pealing bells. The illumination created a crazy kaleidoscopic moving mess of everything. The volume of fire increased, and then fell back, and then increased again. I peered out across the top of the berm in front of me. I could make out the band of water that was the river down in the distance, but I couldn’t see the expected running figures of an advancing enemy. But then I saw something moving. The enemy troops weren’t running, any of them. They were crawling forward like slow-moving ants in the distance, only visible when small yellowish flashes came from the barrels of their rifles. And they were getting close. I pressed the button on the handset and called for high explosive rounds. There was no way I could get fire down on the advancing enemy, but I sure as hell could blow the face of the cliff to hell-and-gone again.
The battlefield was about to receive the harsh impact of a torrential rain heavier and a lot more damaging than what it’d been receiving earlier.
<<<To the Beginning | Next Chapter >>>
Really into this.I was not a Marine but stationed at Dong HA Combat base,first of the 40th Army artillery ’67and 68. Your graphic description of the rain,mud and leaches made me want to go shower and check my self for leaches even though I am setting in my comfortable home.Looking forward to next installment.
Glad you are home reading and not back at Dong Ha. What interesting pits some of
those places were. I wonder what it would be like to go and see what the Vietnamese made
of it all. It was pretty primitive up in most of inclined I Corps back then. Nothing
but a rough path and river through the A Shau with a bunch of blown up communications
and fire bases. Now I look at the Internet and the damned valley is all developed!
Semper fi
Jim
Listening to the sound of those drums is addictive but I doubt I’d want to hear them while crouched down waiting to be attacked at any moment . I really enjoy reading these installments , thank you for sharing .
Thanks. The drums were beyond unsettling and when I hear tribal drums I still have a few problems, like
when I was with Buthelezi, Chief of the Zulu Tribe up in Ulundi, South Africa. His drummers played to welcome me and I perspired so badly
I had to blame the weather, which wasn’t that hot!
Semper fi,
Jim
Just a quick note to say that your story telling prowess has definately got me hooked! I am eagerly awaiting the next instalment. I read as many “true stories” of all conflicts that I can find, but the way you make the sounds, smells & atmosphere ‘come alive’ is quite unreal!
My father told me stories of how his father, granddad, was after coming home from WWII, & I imagine great-grandfather who served in WW1 had similar issues.
My hats off to everyone who has ever served in the shit & I am glad I was born a few years too late.
Keep up the writing, more of ‘us’ need to hear how it really was, & not choke down the ‘recruitment’ stories of most Hollywood productions.
Eagerly anticipating!
Thank you Bob. It is the strangest endeavor, working from the old manuscript and letters, plus new maps and stuff
from the Internet. I keep surprising myself with what I find that I remember but not maybe the same way as when
I use the references. Memory is such a strange thing when burned in by the intensity of the time. I am at it this
day working on the next segment while finishing the details of getting the first book out. I will continue to do all the
books chapter by chapter on here though because some of the guys won’t want to or be able to buy the books.
Semper fi,
Jim
The extra’s available here are quite extraordinary. They amplify the story. Hearing the songs & sounds that you are writing about adds an experience that no other format could provide. I’m looking forward to the paperback, but am grateful to have this added touch, it really brings life to the written word & adds an element to the story that is quite profound.
The work to make the chapters more ‘alive’ has been that of my friend chuck Bartok.
He reads the chapter and then puts his creative mind to work to tie things together with
the emotional response he gets back. I just write on, mostly unaware of what effects the
telling might be having.
Thanks for that bright spot of a comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
Very good and real
hope that you never have to go thru that again in your dreams. It is over but will not be over as long as the vets are alive. My Dad was a ww2 vet. He died at the age of 89 last July. His war is over now No more bad dreams no more night sweat He is resting now.
The dreams are not so bad anymore. Not like they used to be.
The trick is to get up immediately and realize you are back in the real world
of the round eyes and made it…
Semper fi,
Jim
I don’t hear any Drums. We had a Chopper flying over playing Charg . Looking like a Dot in the Sky. We were pinned down for three Days and nights.
If you don’t hear any drums Fred, you are taking the wrong shit!
I saw the choppers in Apocolypse when they flew in playing Wagner but that was a movie.
Never heard a chopper play music or anything else.
Thanks for the comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
History often leads to irony, and these damn drums of yours Lt sent me looking. I’m not sure any of us will ever know why, but a few hours searching history we now know that certain areas of the beloved peninsula have had a fascination for drums in warfare back to the Bronze age. No indication if it’s ethnicity related yet, but I’ll look some more.
The Irony, our Australian brothers are currently using drums as a therapy for PTSD.
Jazuz, we are well and truly a fuked brotherhood.
Wow, interesting stuff on the drums. I’ve never researched
but I must agree as an anthropologist that drums have played a role in so many conflicts
and are so vital to so many tribal ceremonies of native peoples across the planet.
Thanks for the research.
PTSD drum treatments? Something else again…
Semper fi,
Jim
James, the shit keeps hitting the fan. I thought we were in deep shit when we had a broken main engine in a typhoon in the South China sea and when we fought a fire on a commercial tug in Vung Tau harbor, but what you folks endured way eclipsed any of what we went thru. Keep up the writing!
Sounds to me like a failed engine during a typhoon in the South China Sea qualifies
as being damned close to combat. Thanks for the compliment and for commenting here.
Semper fi,
Jim
Mr. Strauss, I have been riveted by your story. I find it amazing how each of our stories are so the same and yet so different. As a Force Recon Corpsman I never saw the river bottoms and never heard the drums. I have heard of them though. We stayed on the hill tops and ridge tops. Reading your story gives me a different look at the war in Vietnam. I enjoy your writing style. Keep up the good work.
The high ground and the low ground. So very different but with some deep and abiding commonalities, as well.
Thanks for liking the story and I shall endeavor to get the work out as fast as I can…
Semper fi,
Jim
Even though I was in the Navy ’66-’69,Our ship patrolled the coast for enemy traulers suppling weapons and supplies to the V.C. I find your stories very interesting. Please tell me where and when this book will come out.
Thanks for the compliment and it must have been interesting
duty to be out there interdicting enemy traffic on the high seas.
Thanks for being here and saying something about that.
Semper fi,
Jim
I know nothing about military strategy or maneuvering, but I’m fascinated by these drums and this deadly cat and mouse game.
Why did they start with the drums after the artillery barrage? Was it signaling of some sort? And also, How did they know where to attack, in the dark, in the rain? Were they setting up to attack where captain Casey’s tent got blown up and the officer killed, and had to adjust their plans when they realized you were moving? Or did they just happen to run into your unit?
Thank you, Daniel
When you are involved in another culture’s back yard engaged in a war against most of the indigenous population
then you can damn well figure that the enemy knows the terrain, night and day, the depth of the rivers and where
the enemey (us) is at all times. Just the way it is. And the rest you don’t get to know about. There’s no ‘after action’
report from the enemy. Thanks for writing an interesting comment and asking such cogent questions.
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim, well stated. You commented on this in a previous comment. Your’e playing on “their turf”; a huge advantaged to the enemy. In the summer of 68, our wing was given a mission that involved close air to ground support. It was a dark night all over VNAM; monsoon season. Wing commander replied – Negative. Response from Macv – ok pussy cats. Commander stated they will never say that again. Which reminds me, you haven’t mentioned much about AF support other than “spookiest”. You are a very talented/gifted writer. Great artists are able to imagine or see something & later on able to perform a painting based on all or most of the details. As a writer, you have been able to are bring back memories of many years ago, plus keeping one’s attention. All I can say…..Well Done. GPA, Bien Hoa, tet offensive. Take care & God Bless
It’s only been twelve days! The Skyraider help earlier in the chapters was very much there and most helpful.
There will be more air interaction as time goes by. I presume you are talking about the dropping of ordnance
and not the near daily ministrations provided by the ever present force of choppers.
Thanks for the comment and the compliment.
Semper fi,
Jim
WOW, damn , wow ,did not expect a brick wall to fall on me ,picking myself out of all the rubble , trying to figure it out and wow; I find it wasn’t as much the story (which is damn good as usual ) but seem to be ,caught off guard by the comments, I think about the motto of 62B we can fix anything but a broken heart and (its not for not trying) we put back together a few spirits anyway and that a fact!
Yes, Bill, I must agree that the comments have been as substantive as the story
itself and that came as a complete surprise to me. Like a lot of the vets writing in,
I thought my story was isolated and totally uncommon. And I presumed for years nobody would
believe it if I told it. I never did, until now. The comments are always worth staying up at night
for and I appreciate them mightily.
Thanks for your comment and your great compliment.
Semper fi,
Jim
James I spent 11 months an 22 days living out of a rucksack. I was in the AnLoa Valley with the 173rd in 69. Most nights no sleep. 22NVA Div. operated in out area. I can tell you the drums are real. I now have PTSD after 48yrs.
The drums were real. Too many of us exposed to them, especially up in I Corps, for them to be figments.
Go in to the VA and tell a counselor: “I can still hear the drums,” and see how fast it takes for them
to either boot you back out to the parking lot or intern you! The stuff I am brining up in my story is
the stuff that penetrated deep into my own psychology over there, and it was mostly stuff I really did
think I would be able to simply let drop away as a bad war experience. I had no clue at all, of course.
None of us did. Thanks for the comment and support.
Semper fi
Jim
remember them well–had a few of the guys who took their own drum to the field and would answer them lol – 2/503rd inf 173rd abn bde – LZ English Bong Son area
Now that’s hilarious. God, I wonder what Charlie thought about drums coming the other way.
Thanks for the comment, the smile and having been along the Bong Song…
Semper fi,
Jim
I was with the 1/12th 4th Div in that same valley working off LZ Tape in 69. Met some of your brothers at The Wall a few years back.
Yes, there are a few up on that particular block of the wall.
A whole lot of them, really. Hard to look at even that one time I did it.
Semper fi,
Jim
I never experienced the drums in IIICorp.It must have been unnerving as hell. The gooks must have gotten the idea from those old black and white movies about British explorers in the african jungle, terrified by the ominous native drums signaling an attack. Imagine your story turned into a Band of Brothers type mini series filmed in the A Shau. It could be the definative movie of the Vietnam War.
Thanks for the Band of Brothers comparison. I absolutely love that series.
Bought the CDs. Now I don’t turn it on except for rare moments
because the people around me start feeling sorry for me and I don’t much care for that reaction.
Not their fault. Band of Brothers is for me like West Wing
compared to the real thing. One is the way you would love it to be or have been,
and the other is that gritty, crummy reality. My story is not Band of Brothers…
although there were certainly elements of it that ran through. Great series though.
I think the drums were an I corps thing and I have no idea where they
idea came from on the part of the Vietnamese. Brilliant though.
Thanks for the comment and the comparison!
Semper fi,
Jim
Never had drums… but one time when we humped out of the bush and were put on bridge guard,,,was during the monsoons…we Haden’s been supplied for a few days and were wet tired and very Hungary…had a little vietnamese Babylon friend ..we were to kick them all outside our parimetor at night…but his parents had been Kia by NVA ,,, and had nowhere to go,,so we left him with us under our poncho tent..a few hours after dark we here a voice out in the jungle over a loud speaker inviting us to come out and see them…that they had lots of very good food,, even named off a few names of the grunts with us.. and also telling us that if we came out that they would make sure we would get to see our loved ones again…this went on for awile..then arty was called in on where we heard the sound…boom boom boom…then the voice agin …then more arty…finaly my little friend (called himself Tom ) told me he knew where they were at..asked if he could point it out on a map…said yes…so took him to the CP…told them Tom could show them where the gooks were that were transmitting …sure enough he looked at the map and after a little while he pointed to a spot quite always from where the speaker was.. so arty was called in on that grid,,, then the talking stoped and we heard a squeezing of the speeder…then quiet…
Was squealing on the speaker..this auto spell thing has a minde of its own
We got it Bill, like a lot of the corrections I have to make, necessary but the audience already knows…
Thanks for being a stickler for detail…and for liking the work and being my friend…
Semper fi,
Jim
Another tour de force from Bill Hammond. The phrase “you can’t make this shit up” comes to mind. Only a kid you felt
sorry for helps pull the bacon out. Like Nguyen, talking to the enemy while taking care of the Marines. Go figure.
Thanks for the usual intense and so interesting insight.
Semper fi,
Jim
Bill, interestingly correlating to my Unle Ed in Korea during that police action (all of it). He “drove a .50 cal.” most of the time. He “adopted” an orphan like a lot to others did. They knew the land and, the part that hurt him most, was that the GIs used them to keep warm during the winter. (It was mutual.). Doing what you had to do didn’t change. Thank you, much respect.
Interesting revelation about your uncle Walt.
I have heard other similar stories about the ‘orphan’ thing
and also a lot of regret about leaving such indigenous assets behind
when they came home. Thanks for that and I would like to hear more.
Thanks for the comment and support, as usual, too…
Semper fi,
Jim
I am of the same mind…what a GREAT series this would make, if handled correctly such as “Band of Brothers”.
That is “indeed” a great compliment. Tom Hanks made that happen after he spent a lot of time with the real guys
who hit the beaches in Europe. Movies actors and producers don’t associate much with the real veterans.
So, who knows? Great compliment though and I thank you kindly.
Semper fi,
Jim
Morang Jim, Interesting thing the Drums, I remember backhauling cut in 1/2 55 gallon metal drums, The grunts had loaded them with small arms ammunitions, grenades, belted ammo, broken ammo boxes, a handy way to handle the small stuff, I wonder if that was some of the drums you heard?
Would make for a handy makeshift that would also be water proof…..
Now as to air density, and short rounds, I met an Air Force Vet in a PTSD group I was involved in, We were talking about flying IFR, That storm that Hit you as you moved out? Well He tells me about a special operation he was involved in to extend the monsoon season over North Vietnamese and Viet Cong resupply routes throughout southeast Asia, particularly the Ho Chi Minh Trail. He talked about using silver and lead iodide, and fine dust to create rain and storms, Storms that I was caught in several time on missions. Yes let me tell you nothing to raise the pucker factor like flying in a full blown monsoon, IFR, Instruments showing a decent rate of 3000+ feet a minute and you have full up collective trying to maintain altitude in the mountains…. variable wind side shear, and dancing in the rudder pedals to maintain directional stability…. Yes, the met data was out the window in the wind….. I can just imagine what that would do to a arty round on it’s way up, flight time, and decent, The changing drag factor as the water is picked up on the shell surfaces and spun off by centrifugal action and accumulation in the air pocket behind the round…. Yes, More pucker factor to go around than authorized by mother nature….. Then add then add the beast drumming up chow call…….
Man I am with You, Dam…. We lived through that, We came Home, and the REMF’s wanted to know why we couldn’t just drop it…. Put it behind us…. The names… Malone — Murphy — Coronado — Whitehead — The un-named black and green bags on their last ride home….. Again, Welcome Home Brother, Welcome Home……….James…….God had a reason that You are here, and like me You need to find it. This We Defend = Semper fi My friend. Bob.
Now that’s a comment! Wow, you can lay it right in there Robert. All of the atmospheric shit I was not even thinking
of as it applied to guys flying those helicopters. Hell, even more sensitive than arty rounds most probably.
Thanks for that detailed narrative. You made me feel it like I was back. Welcome aboard as a writer!
Semper fi,
Jim
Can you tell me about three man fire teams? Most of what I read states four or more. Did they each have a grenade launcher? Did they have an automatic larger than M-16? Just trying to learn. P.S. Great writing!
Generally, the Marine corps uses four man fire teams. The fire team leader has a M203 (M16 attachement for M-79 rounds) while the main gunner of the team has a light machine gun. It used to be the M-60 but now is the SAW. The other two members of the team carry M-16s and extra ammo.
Thanks for the question.
Semper fi,
Jim
James: you keep reminding us of the letter home in your pants pocket . The first American K.I.A I had to deal with , had a letter home to his wife in his shirt pocket ,he was shot to shit in his head and upper body ,but the LETTR had NOT one drop of blood or body fluid on it ,I have told very few people about that , and every time you mention YOUR letter ,I get the flash back , Bravo 1/4 in 65 . P.F.C at the time.
The letters were my connection to back home. Even the radio and the music
didn’t come from home. Until you got a care package you got nothing from
back there if you were out in combat. So I hung on my letters going out
as if they were a two way communication. I just made up her replies.
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim,
No mention of claymores, poor Mud Marines arty. Could have gotten out quite a few before the attack. Bad guys hated those ball baring machines. I’ll never forget that hollow sound of rain on the big leaves or everything slimy, me, all my equipment, the trees, mud, EVERTHING! Could not write home because everything was mush. Waiting to see how dropping a mtn on everyone turns out. Write on!!!!!!
We did not get that many Claymores and when we did we used them up toot sweet. We had lots of
grenades though and used those all the time. Grenades in the bush were actually longer range than
16s because with the rifles you kinda had to see something or waste valuable rounds just shooting
into the brush. Grenades had this scream thing going. “Got some” kind of thing. That’s when the guys
weren’t throwing them too short or the wrong way. You find out real quick with grenades that most American
lads are not major league baseball material!!
Semper fi,
Jim
Hope your troops are all pulled back under the overhang …. there’s stuff ’bout to hit the rotary oscillator round there !!
Another awesome read…..
it just keeps getting more intense as we go along.
The Gunny keeps confounding me. He’s a hard one to figure… guess he’s played both sides against the middle for so long, he Doesn’t know any other way.
The Gunny was impossible to read although I know he liked me.
Just the feeling I got. And, of course, he had everything to do with me
staying alive.
Thanks for the comment.
Semper fi
Jim
I never heard the drums. We were attacked at night mostly by sappers, So I guess they didn’t need to warn us they were coming. The only frontal attack I saw was in 29 June, 69, when a division came at us at Khe Sahn.
I don’t think they were warning us that they were coming.
It was like the drums were too far away for that.
I don’t know what it was and maybe that was the idea.
You are out there in the night and they want you
to know it is definitely their night…
not your night.
Thanks for the comment
Semper fi,
Jim
One often thinks about the drum effect when dealing with warfare and the psychological effect it has on mankind. When you look back at history when it came to death, the drums seem to have always been present to announce one’s demise.
How about the Indian war drums symbolizing an eminent counsel and attack? Then too, what about the drummers presence before the firing squad did it’s job? Years ago, most major events were always preceded by the drum roll. Whatever it’s purpose, the drums always got man’s attention.
For damn sure. The drums have to go way back because there’s a genetic response to them
we all have. I don’t know how to describe it any other way. The drums in combat were kind
of silly and stupid to think about until you felt them. There was no humor in their deadly intent
or in how the message destabilized many of us in front of them.
Semper fi
Jim
Once again it is hard to add anything to all the comments ahead of me. I never experienced the Drums. Thankfully.
Glenn.
Thanks Glenn. I presume you had some interesting things to say before reading.
The quality and quantity of knowledge and experience on this site is astounding though.
They confound me too.
Semper fi,
Jim
I had a Love/Hate relationship with the parachute flares Illumination Rounds as they came down swinging side to side making a kaleidoscope of shifting shadows and light and illuminating everything including us,,,at night you saw with your ears and blew the claymores first then grenades and last rifle fire especially on LP or Ambush,,,I Hated working the Villages and the Rice Paddies with the Civilians I Loved the Mountains of the Central Highlands the Humping was Terrible but there was no one up there but the VC, the NVA, the Montagnards and us,,,and it was a free fire zone,,,those green towels around our necks and the brutal loads of the Rucksacks and leaving men who could not make the hump to die alone in the jungle telling them the VC or the NVA would be along to help them carry their pack,,,most of them when left alone found the inner strength they did not know they had to pick up their rifle and rucksack and rejoin the formation,,,the ones who did not who were willing to die we went back for and helped them or in the worst cases had them Dustoff/Medivaced out of the field…
Now that comment comes to us straight from the real battlefields. Shit. Leaving those guys.
Medevacing people who weren’t wounded. The men who could not fight, could not hump, could
not do jack because they’d totally fallen apart. No place for them out there. What do you
do. The rock group called Fun, before it disbanded, made a song called Carry On. I think
of those guys every time it plays, for some reason or other. You never ever forget those guys.
Thanks for the straight stuff here…
Semper fi,
Jim
Hey Jim,
As usual a great read. I am fascinated with the science of artillery. Never thought much about the atmospheric parameters that are involved in putting a round on target. As a professional pilot for over 35 years, I well understand the dynamics of density altitude and how it affects performance.
One of the hardest concepts for me to grasp early on was that high humidity actually makes the air less dense ,or as we say, “a higher density altitude.” We have formulas to compute density altitude, but nothing for how rain affects performance.
So, what was the main reason the round missed it’s target? Was it the rain or the density altitude? You commented that the battery did not have the capability to calculate the air density or did I misunderstand that?
Batteries run meteorological tests every few hours. Those tests involve launching balloons with
instruments on board to measure many things at set altitudes.
I don’t remember exactly at what altitudes they measured but the winds aloft,
the temperature and the humidity were vital in calculating range and
deflection as the rounds go up many thousands of feet and then down through many more.
The met data right on target cannot be verified because forward observers cannot launch balloons.
The met at the target can be entirely different than the met at the battery
so the rounds must be ‘guessed’ if it is felt the data might be different.
Snipers do the same with windage. They can see the target through the scope and the
can know the wind where they are. They have to guess what it is a mile away,
where it can be very different.
Thanks for the questions and I hope I have helped.
I don’t know about modern FDC or cannon fire though.
Semper fi,
Jim
Thanks. You did answer my questions. There’s a lot of variables involved, but I bet there is a little art and magic to it also. 🙂
Thanks Jack. I am trying to the best of my ability…
Semper fi,
Jim
I was a MET section chief. SSG,USA RET We could do Met Messages every two hours normally it would last four hrs.EXCEPT during weather changes. Ideal set up between guns and target but you know how that works.Everything computed by hand at that time. Had to measure wind speed direction, Humidity, Air density on each zone round would go through. All done right first round on target. There again you know how that works!
I was a MET Section Chief
Some very complex stuff you were doing there. But without it the rounds would
always have been off, or even way off. It’s one thing to adjust when he battery is being
accurate. It’s quite another when the battery is as out of it as the FO!
Thanks for your comment and making it here.
Semper fi,
Jim
I have been riveted by reading these installments. I had an older brother who was over there in the army. He never spoke of what went on there, and I can only imagine his experiences were similar to yours. Please let me know how to get a copy of this entire book once you’re finished, I would like to share it with my siblings. Thank you and all who served and sacrificed, our debt to you can never be repaid…
Hopefully we are only days from having it up on Amazon.
Thank you very much for caring that much…
Semper fi,
Jim
This is the best account of that place I’ve ever read. Thank you for putting all those sounds and smells on paper.
Sounds and smells. The smells could never be replicated for a non participant. The sounds could, but the audiences would rush screaming to the vestibules.
should be “. . . pealing of bells”
Spellbinding read!
Yes, you are correct Mike. Where in hell did peeling come from?
My decaying brain! Thanks for the help here and the compliment.
Semper fi
Jim
Watching puff do it’s magic was impressive and also impressive was watching the B52’s carpet bomb the mountain side east of Chu Lai at night I could not imagine anything living through that hell fire. Then there was the battleship New Jersey firing those huge shells into this same mountain face, those rounds were so slow we would lay on the sand bags and watch them go overhead. The total amount of bombs, rockets, shells, rounds of amo had to be staggering for this entire war.
Those rounds were huge, some weighing in at over a ton, for the New Jersey stuff. They were moving at about two thousand miles an
hour but they were so big the were visible. They could reach 25 miles inland but out near their maximum range, like all artillery,
they got less accurate. Thanks for the comments and your ‘filling in’ with some of your own experience.
Semper fi,
Jim
The BUFFs’ bomb runs were magic. They could levitate you off the floor of a bunker.
Jim ,
I admire your writing skill , but appreciate your willingness to share your experience more . Thank you for your service , welcome home , and continued success in telling your story . Fred
It’s taken a long time to drag the story out of the succession of closet floors it sat in since the 70’s.
It’s not so hard to write now, as it was back then, because I used to get so angry at some things that don’t much
bother me now. Some of it can still rub me raw. When Chuck put in the tape of the drums…
that kind of threw me.
Anyway, thanks for the support and liking the story.
Semper fi,
Jim
I am not sure what prompted you to write your story here, accept comments, and then reply to comments, but this adventure of yours in doing so and the subject matter covered is awesome on this end. Thank you. Is the reduction in accuracy at maximum range what Artillery types referred to as “range probable error”?
Well, it might. I have remained pretty out of the field of artillery since coming
home so many years ago. I remember CEP (circular error probable) as a measure of a weapons
accuracy but not what the range thing was. I never expected to be involved in answering comments.
I don’t know why, since there have been almost 3700 now and that’s in about five months. Wow.
But answer them I do, like your own here.
Thanks for taking and interest and writing one of these comments.
semper fi,
Jim
…May 1968 USMC with 2 Kit Carson Scouts out in front for a LP. I remember the illumination rounds, especially the 155’s. I’d hear the 155 round coming in and pop somewhere overhead. Sounded like it was directly over us but doubtful. It was not called in by me but someone else. I could hear the illumination canister flying through the air with a buzzing type sound then smack the ground somewhere out there. Sometimes my fear was getting hit by the canister. Thanks for your writings.
The FDCs of the time were pretty damned good about calculating where the cannisters were going to go and steering them
away from friendly troops or Marines. If they had the right data as to the unit’s location. I played a lot of games in
order to ‘game’ the system back then because of all the weird rules of engagement they had that would deny fire when we
needed it most. Be almost impossible today with GPS and all the electronic stuff.
Semper fi,
Jim
Not really a comment just a background question as it applies, if that ok. I was wondering about the Gunny and his time in country with this unit when you joined the company? Obviously a salt was this a multiple tour for him? The other Plt leaders Sugar Daddy and Jurgens, any idea how deep into their tour they were as well ? Thanks, but I’m curious about the combat experience of the key players as you knew it then.
Nobody in the unit I knew of was on a second tour.
It was not discussed much either. People who did second tours were
considered brain damaged or just stupid. Who wants to die?
Many guys in the read did multiple tours because they found a
haven and there was also a lot of money to be made in some circumstances some
Marines said. I never got out of the field with any time to determine truth there.
You do not, do not, go back into something like I am writing about willingly.
Not ever. Fuck that. It don’t mean nuthin.
Semper fi,
Jim
Have to strongly disagree with this part Jim….we’ve talked about having similar jobs and responsibilities, and the fact that we were both there at the same time..and in Sister Companies of the same outfit….love your story, don’t get me wrong… but many of us went back for additional tours in the field…back to the closest family we ever had, or ever would have…getting “home” to the “land of the giant PX” was a common dream…until we got there…and then a whole lot of us just couldn’t wait to get back to Nam…no matter what we had already been through…it was a journey with our Brothers we had left behind.. and that particular guilt was very hard to handle….our bond was huge…my first tour was spent 100% in the bush with your Sister Company..Lima…and we had lots of our guys extend to come back and keep on fighting in the field… I have no idea where the idea of “making money’ or finding a “haven” (like your “Company Clerk” lol love that guy!) could have come from… certainly not in the bush…hell, I think I actually got “paid” three times in that first year…everything stayed ‘on the books’ because there was absolutely no where to spend it…so I guess I’m saying that I take some offense at the thought that we had to be brain damaged or stupid to want to go back…but a lot of us did..we thought it was something we had to do.. there was guilt on both sides of the ocean…..making it home the first time…and seeing the relief on my parents faces….and then after a few days, telling them I was going back…. Keep writing Jim…you are telling more than just your story….Semper Fi
Admittedly, I had a life to go back to, and as I’ve stated time and again,
there were many wars fought inside the big one.
Nobody in my unit ever gave the slightest of hints that they might
want to re-up for another tour of what we went through.
Less than 20% ever went into combat in Vietnam and that means
that 80% were not out there in direct combat.
It is my PRESUMPTION that those would be the men who found more of a home
in the Nam than back at home.
But I don’t know that for certain.
I can’t get inside the head of any man who would have wanted to die that much
and so I made that statement. I did not make the comment to put down or piss anybody off.
It just seemed so logical that most others would think like me. Subsequent years have proven that
not much of what I old to be dear is held that way by many in the population though.
Did not mean to offend you.
Semper fi,
Jim
This is a very sensitive subject, as it turns out,
and I treated my comment a bit flippantly in writing it from the perspective of not being a Marine
with the option of signing up to return and not really knowing anyone who did.
So my conclusion, base only on what happened to the guys in my unit, was that nobody
with an ounce of mental sanity left would re-up into what we were delivered into.
I made assumptions from what other people told me and there you go.
Lost in that morass of opinion and idiocy. I also had a wife
and young daughter to come home to and that was not given to everyone who went either.
So, if I offended then I could not be more apologetic.
I have no idea why guys would re-up but your arguments Larry sound pretty damned good…
Semper fi,
Jim
“Fire In The Hole”
Could not believe it took two days for you take that friendly fire.
They got one day less than the two years I agreed to, and I was being very boisterous reminding them that I was going to be a civilian in 5 days, 4 days, 3 days before I got my flight date out of DaNang.
And I was never in the crap you were in.
Thanks for the comment, as usual Steve.
That flight out of Da Nang…so many short-timer calendars.
Semper fi,
Jim
Outfuckingstanding!!! Another layer peeled from the onion, James.
Yes, it was a big onion. I like that analogy. You cry while you are peeling it but
peel it you must. Thanks for that vote of confidence and the support.
Semper fi,
Jim
This is so addictive! When I see a new episode, I have to drop everything and read it through. I continue to wonder how on earth you will be able to get out of this new conflict in the Valley of Death. Keep it up James!
That valley was a pit for sure. And you don’t get out of such pits by
merely waltzing away or strolling up into the hills and mountains.
Read on. Thanks for the support and care….
Semper fi,
Jim
Reread the chapters, then read the comments. Many very interesting. In my twenty months in country I never heard drums hiking the trails of 2 Corp.
I never knew whether the drums were indigenous to the A Shau or all over.
Some other guys on here heard them too. All I can write is about what I experienced.
The drums, incidentally, turned out to be tied together old fuel drums from old LZs.
They would cover them with something to funnel the sound and then beat away.
Explains why they could beat them in bad weather, and there was sure enough bad weather.
Semper fi
Jim
Loved the sound bite of the drums. It drove the story as I listened to it while reading. Great story. Love your writing and looking forward to the next installment.
Yes, Chuck’s putting the sound in threw me too.
I reread what I wrote and it was like somebody else wrote
it because the drums made me shiver all over again.
Jesus Christ!
Thanks for sharing and supporting.
Semper fi,
Jim
I clicked on the drums at first before I began to read, I thought they might distract me from following the story line, so I paused them. Then after, I played them while reading the comments, I wasn’t bothered by them, but strangely calmed, in a soothing way, but native music always affects me like that, maybe from some long lost relative or from listening to Johnny Cash’s song “Drums” so many times as a child and teen. Reading these chapters is like a continuing “Adjust Fire Mission” and when the entire book is finally together it will be like a “Battalion Fire Mission”! Awaiting the next chapter, as with each one before. Semper Fi, LT.
I have to go to YouTube and look up the Johnny Cash song.
People commenting like you here lead me to so many interesting places.
Your comments are sometimes better than the story!!!
Thanks for being here and taking the trouble (and risk) to say something.
Semper fi,
Jim
Here is the Johnny Cash song.
Another episode one can’t walk away from until it is done. I would bet those drums has made many run and end up being killed over the years. Sounds as though Casey is still going to be a thorn in your side to deal with but maybe the Gunny can get Sugar Daddy’s attention. Crawling men won’t be an easy target let alone in the dark as well.
Tell me about the crawling men thing. in the dark and the rain and with the drums and all.
Shit. It was a helluva night.
Thanks for the reading the caring.
I am hard at it tonight.
Semper fi
Jim
Damn….I led a sheltered life over there and am so glad that I did. Ground DF and ARDF and not nearly any face-to-face like you faced. Hand-salute…..
Some got lucky. Congratulations. Some say it is better to be lucky than to be good.
Both is better, of course. Glad you made it through clean and uninjured. Glad you are here
and thanks for the support and the comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
So good Jim. Black of night, you had to be there, none blacker then in a fire fight.
Yes, because of the night blindness from the barrel flares and tracers.
Thanks for that bit of reality.
Semper fi,
Jim
I like the “additions” you implant in the chapters, like the songs and the drums. It really helps with the ambiance of the story. I turned on the drums about as loud as I would imagine they would have been in the jungle and continued to read. They ended just as I read “they ended” and I snapped back to reality. It took me away for a bit and enhanced the emotions….nice touch!
Wow, Lee, that is quite a compliment to my friend and collegue Chuck Bartok, who found that
piece and then inserted it. When I listened and read again it scared me all over again!!!
Semper fi, and thank you for that comment.
Jim
Sh*t happens James, lost one of my best gunners on my mortar crews because of a 81mm long round during Bess in 68. We were backing up one our teams in contact in that driving rain, the round that landed in a hooch and killed a little girl, we rotated him home, guilt’s a bitch, never heard what happened to him, hope he made it home
Sorry to hear about that Felix. whom would have thought at the time that we’d never
really lose these guys. We came home and thought we’d forget. Not.
Thanks for the comment and the support.
Semper fi,
Jim
Looks like Sugar Daddy sandbagged on you , really dangerous with contact most likely, seemed like Gunny and your RTO knew that. RTOs seemed to be a fraternity unto themselves as well. Never heard of the drums, it’s creepy as hell and there’s no way to un hear that even 50 years later I’m sure. Pysc Ops at its most primitive level , and perhaps more effective at its roots. Respects LT.
Everyone is on their own but thrown together in combat.
It’s a mishmash of knowledge, relationships, trust and a whole lot of
whacked out fear and piss poor judgments.
Thanks for the comment and for caring.
Semper fi,
jim
You stopped in the middle of a firefight. I don’t want to wait. Anyway this will be on film someday. I will buy the book and would love you to sign it James.
I am hard at it getting the next segment out.
Thanks for demanding more faster. It makes me deliver more faster!
Semper fi,
Jim
holly cat crap on a cracker(nice touch on the drums) lt. what story keep them coming! I have over the years had many marines friends who where there but never talked thank u for sharing!
I’d say that’s a compliment sir! And I dearly thank you for it.
I did not expect to move other men or women when I began. I just expected them to give me
some shit about my story, right wrong or whatever The comments I’ve gotten have effected me
pretty deeply and let me know, intensely, that I was in fact not alone over there. There was
a ton of that meaningless badly led and Marine killing Marine shit going on.
So I owe the people writing in here, maybe like no comment session ever.
I answer ever comment because it helps me too.
Semper fi, and thank you.
Jim
i did my tour 68 to 70 in the 7th army Germany so i missed all that my friends and class mates that went never talked much about it once in a while a sort story if they were drunk or stoned
it is good to read yours and get a feel for what it was like thank you for your service and for the story i missed the first few i would like to read all of it
Frank. All you have to do is go to the front page of this website and click on Thirty Days Has September and then on The First Ten Days.
Thanks for the supportive comment and liking the story.
Semper fi,
Jim
You have moved many with your intensity found in your words. I thought I knew but am finding out now how much I didn’t know. Like many others, everything else goes to the back burner when I find another segment, I am not sure what I get the most out of the original writing or the follow up comments. Put together they are certainly eye opening.
I control the direction and the segmented continuance of the story but I am
not in control of the comments. Those come from you guys and I answer as best I can.
I have trashed 27 comments mostly because guys wrote in later and asked me to take them
down. It can be hard to admit things that are on a public forum, even thought this one is
quite small and pretty specialized. Spam goes. Thanks for the comment and liking the story.
Semper fi,
Jim
What distance will shrapnel travel? The reason I ask is because we were set up one night and you could hear rounds exploding in the distance and all of a sudden we could see the glow of shrapnel flying through the air.They weren’t firing for us. Glad we were already down on the ground but we really ate dirt then.
Yep, you can always tell the crack of an AK after you have heard them. Never will forget that sound. As usual I am waiting for the next episode.Glad you rang Casey’s bell,just hope no one else as hurt. Keep on keeping on. Thanks again for such awesome writing.
A bullet is specially shaped for range. Most of them, anyway. Shrap is not.
It comes off the casing in chunks of spinning cartwheeling crap.
It can be the size of a BB or the size of soft ball, or even bigger.
It leaves ground zero of the explosion driving it at around 22,000 feet per second,
about eight times faster than a bullet.
But the air resistance is huge against the rolling chunk so it slows dramatically.
Usually, you can only get hit by regular bomb, mortar
or howitzer shrapnel if you are less than a quarter mile away.
A bullet, like a .50 Caliber, can fly up to five or six miles
and still kill you if it hits.
Semper fi,
Jim
Thanks for the info Jim. I have no idea what the shrap came off of. All I know is it was to close for me.
The 105mm howitzer round weighs anywhere from forty to forty-five pounds and is mostly made up of shrapnel.
Only five pounds of TNT or Comp. B. All that metal is what does the damage when it cracks and then comes
apart.
Semper fi,
Jim
I remember in the Ashau 69 the B52’s could not drop the big bombs within 10 clicks of friendlies because of shrapnel. I was fdc 155’s.
Yes, if you told the where you really were. Which was seldom
because you could not have the rear area, including the FDC, determining when and where
you could receive fire. Now it’s probably a whole lot different though.
Thanks for the interesting comment and support…
Semper fi,
Jim
That suppose to b assholes an gooks
Yes, ob, thanks for the comment and the read. You got it right…
Semper fi,
Jim
O hell yea get some, I remember those damn drums, ads hole books trying to play Indian Semper Fi Lt.
The drums. Yes, they still play, not exactly as added here but man are they there on some
very dark nights. Thanks for coming in on that note.
Semper fi,
Jim
The drums made me feel like i was there.i have a active imagination. This is one of the best books i have ever read.i have never served but remember my mom watching cronkite and when my dad came home watching the news.he still wont talk much about it,bits and pieces is all i get.this book helps me to understand what he went through. He was a lieutenant in command of troops in 67-68 in hue.i also want to thank all of you marines for rescuing him and his army buddies.i got to grow up with a great man
Thank you most sincerely Ed.
I wasn’t sure adding the drum sound track was wise but my friend Chuck over-ruled me once he read the
segment with the drums beating the whole time. He’s right. It made the reading almost as creepy as the
real experience.
Thanks for the compliments and the support.
Semper fi,
Jim
We’re blessed to have you around to tell this story Jim. A hellish night!
Thank you Jack. You are a class act yourself and really nice to have
as a supporting friend here…as we go through it all again…together this time..
Semper fi,
Jim
The drums! Don’t understand how any of you got out of that without serious issues? You scared me again, Lt. You should have heard the thump when I was suddenly finished with this installment. Like most everyone else, I’m telling you to hurry up then feeling bad, nah, get with it, you’re killing me!
Walt, as usual. Well written and funny at the same time.
If you pushed the begin button on the drum sequence then
you really got the feel for this segment. Hell, it scared me all over
again.
Semper fi,
Jim
Great, you should make a million off this book!
Well, Mike, probably not. The publishing business does not work that way.
It’s kinda like Hollywood and I don’t have the right last name. But I will
be most happy if it gets out to flock of the guys and gals who’ve been or been
around those who went that they can’t understand.
Imagine how changed I was and I was only ending my eleventh day!
Semper fi,
Jim
Mel Gibson should get a copy of this book. I am sure with his passion for military history and his compassion for guys like you James, he would go with this and put your messages out there for millions to see. You seriously have a great thing going here, and need to be rewarded.
Unfortunately, you can’t just reach out and touch a movie star.
They have many layers of ‘protection’ between them and the public for obvious reasons.
Either serendipity will come along and something like that will happen or it won’t.
Real life, like back in the Nam but without the artillery, mortars, machine guns, etc.
Still a whole lot of chance in the the entire scenario.
Thanks for those thoughts. What’s that expression “from your lips to God’s ears?”
Semper fi,
Jim
Damn! You get the adrenaline flowing & then the chapter’s over. Hard to wait on the next one for sure. I may have to start smoking again. Damn good book.
Hell, I may have to start smoking again, although I came home and never admitted to
it at all. Thanks for the indication of solid support you give me. Thanks for the compliments.
Everyone assumes that you can just keep going on your own with something like this but it’s not true.
You guys have been carrying me!
Semper fi,
Jim
My dad was a Guadalcanal, Cape Gloucester & Peleliu vet who wouldn’t let me join at 17. I was stationed for most of my tour @ 8th & I and almost everyone there was a Nam vet. From their stories and the nightmares my dad had his whole life makes me think I probably wouldn’t have made it. We had racial problems too and extraordinarily screwed up ops stateside without being under fire ( unless it was spit & rocks from the anti war pukes) so I guess it’s a USMC trademark. Still a fine outfit and I respect the hell out of you guys. I still wish I had gone over. Feel guilty but guess it wasn’t in the cards. I see now pop knew what he was doing when he wouldn’t sign. I wouldn’t watch the news during Iraq when my son was in but again I think this story is a winner.
Semper Fi
Well hell, you are here so you can thank your dad for wanting that result more than he wanted a son
to follow him into the corps at that time. You sound like you’ve done really well with your life
and that’s quite wonderful.
Thanks for liking the story and telling some of your own on here…
Semper fi,
Jim
Keep em’ coming junior “sir”
Thank you Henry. I am on it and I appreciate the plaudit…
Semper fi
Jim
DAY-yum! Junior: You’ve left us on the hook again. Keep it up….
Thanks Ed, I am keeping on keeping on. I am out here in Hawaii writing away.
Thanks for the support. I will meet a couple of guys from on here at the officer’s club
at Kaneohe on Sunday for lunch. Maybe. We vets are notoriously undependable though.
What the hell. I’ll have the general’s table in the corner so life will be okay if it’s just me.
Semper fi
Jim
Keepem coming. Throughly enjoy reading about experiences in Vietnam. I did one year from April 8,1967 -April 7’1968 in the Army. I was there during the Tet Offensive and lost a cousin in March 68. He was in the Marines. You had your hands full and I think you have done wonderfully. We never had race problems but did have some NCOs who were clueless. Thank you brother and welcome home.
Thank you Billy. I was so lucky to have the Gunny that I thank my lucky stars every
day. I simply would not be here anymore without him. He sure pissed me off plenty over there
however. And the other way around too…
Semper fi,
Jim
Get the next chapter incoming!!!! Good stuff!
working as hard as I can out here…
Thanks for demanding more!
semper fi,
Jim
Great work James. I can’t wait for the next one. This one came pretty quickly. You were discussing Puff earlier; we did an op with 1st Marines in 1966 with each of three units assigned a Puff. They circled all night firing. Very impressive. I was a Trac Rat and I’m sure glad we had to stay on fairly flat terrain. You can have the mountains.
When you could get Puff it was magnificent.
Even if they didn’t decimate Charlie they sure as hell scared
the shit out of him and helped us by keeping their heads down.
thanks for the good comment and the care…
Semper fi,
Jim
Hairy times. Getting illumination was cool, but I came close to getting hit by those canisters a few times! Keep on keeping on. Semper Fi!
I hated those cannisters and lost men to them. It sucks when you don’t think about the gun
target line until those cannisters are flying and the FDC has your position wrong because
you gave it to them wrong on purpose!!!
Semper fi,
Jim
One tour I was on a 12 man ambush patrol about 3-4 klicks from our fire base. Could hear the 155s and 8 inchers firing from the base. Some how we ended on the line of fire of the 155s. They fired a few firecracker rounds. Heard the bang,the found exploding,and the whistle of the bomblets coming down! Didn’t know I could get that low to ground. Luckily the bomblets landed about half a klick short of us. Scared the shit out of us. Not nice message sent back to the FDC!
If the artillery is firing high angle and you are close like you were
then you can actually hear the guns go off before the rounds impact.
Not that way usually. Mostly we never heard the guns at all, given
the distances and the terrain.
Artillery was comforting and scary at the same time.
Like having a pet attack dog that turns to look at you every once and awhile,
and the look isn’t good.
Semper fi,
Jim
Wow, that drumbeat was powerfully hypnotic. I can’t imagine what that must have felt like in the jungle. Another amazing segment Jim. I’m glad that you finally got some sleep in the midst of all the events of the night.
Every time I think about your description of how darkness was associated with chaos and death, I think about God’s creation of light on the first day and how he separated it from darkness and called it Good. I’ve just been meditating on that notion lately as I read your amazing story. Even though Jesus is the light of the world, so much darkness remains.
Bless you and thank you again for you service
Now that’s some deep writing in this comment Ed. I hadn’t thought of that aspect in the writing.
I vacillate all the time about what to believe about God, Jesus Christ and all the rest of the grand passion
play. The Bible is cool but not all of it by any means. The Old Testament needs to be flushed simply because
so much of America has bought into it instead of the much nicer, newer and more instructive New Testament.
Thanks for the deep comment and the deep care.
Semper fi,
Jim
Another misunderstanding on your part junior, when it comes to how you perceive the Old Testament of the bible. I have heard statements like that many times down through the years and it is hard not to project a different outlook.
Jim, think of the Old Testament as it was intended to read, a historical relationship between God and His creation. It was written over a period of thousands of years, by many different servants of the Lord. The purpose was to point out all of the failures of mankind and how God dealt with those failures. In the process, mankind learns two basic facts, first they continually repeat their same mistakes and secondly, they learn how God reacts to those mistakes.
A case in point, fits your continuous feelings of thinking of being alone with your thoughts and deeds. You are now realizing that you were not alone, just from the comments that are left by others, after each of your chapters in this book. You are discovering that you are only human, just like the rest of our species. In a sense, that is what the Old Testament is telling us, so that we don’t destroy ourselves with self inflicted guilt!
Also, you might concentrate in the Old Testament, about all of the responses by God in dealing with mankind. He continually tells mankind how to live peaceably on planet earth and with Him as well. He tells us that if we live as He desires His creation to live, He will bless it and He does just that in the Old Testament, when mankind follows His direction. The flip side of the coin, is that He also follows through with His guidance, in punishing those who rebel against His desires.
The Old Testament was meant to be a blessing and not a curse as some seem to believe. It was the first of two sticks in the plan of redemption for mankind. The New Testament was the second stick, that provided the source for redemption that man failed to understand from the Old Testament. Keep in mind Jim, that Jesus stated that everything He spoke in the New Testament, were not His words, but that of His father in Heaven. He upheld everything that was written in the Old Testament! You need to go back and read the Old Testament with that in mind, to understand your Creator and His only begotten Son.
Well, your theology is so far beyond my own that it does not bear discussing.
One has to believe that God wrote the bible, or men through God, and I’ve never
been able to take that one down. Anymore than I can sit in a congregation and accept
some man’s interpretation of what God meant. Just not in me.
But love the dialogue and the discussions about such things.
Religion is a vital part of our survival whether you want to throw yourself fully into belief
or simply comprehend that mythology keeps us going by making us imagine that things can
get better, and that there’s a reason for all this.
Thank you for spending the time on here to be open about what you think and believe.
Semper fi, and god bless…
Jim
Not trying to proselytize Jim, just trying to correct a misconception about the Old Testament. If it is just mythology as you say, then it is a very good mythology and better then any other I have seen in my past seventy six years here on earth.
I accept your right to believe whatever it is you choose to believe in, God gave you that right of choice.
Proselytize away. What is the meaning of life?
These are the kinds of discussions that have real meaning
instead of the daily political crap we get fed.
Thank you for having the confidence and courage to write
what you think. I much enjoy the dialogue.
Semper fi,
Jim
Don’t want to depart from your story, so will not dwell on our current discussion, however one more point. Your comment about who wrote the bible and how you could not buy how mankind interprets it, got to me.
Jim, you stated that you had been a catholic in your youth, so I know that you are aware of the trinity teachings of the church. You start and end your prayers with the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost.
Here is the key which you seem to have forgotten, when searching for the truth, the Holy Spirit which Jesus referred to as the Comforter. He also instructed His disciples that he would send them the Holy Spirit who will reveal all truth. That applies to you as well, for the Holy Spirit is your blessing of discernment to rely upon, when trying to verify the truth of the Word of God and the Gospel. Think about that!
I am not sure I’m looking for truth anymore J. What truth and where…and when.
It is all a jumbled universe interacting, coming together and then pulling apart.
You want me to fall back on faith but I am the kind of person who would have to fall
forward onto faith. The Lord does not come to sit with me because I am not important enough.
God is a star and I am nothing. Maybe God has been stopping to visit Donald Trump lately because he
sure needs some help right now.
Thanks for the kind words and he wisdom.
Semper fi,
Jim
How sad it is that you are fighting so hard to defeat the emotional and physical demons, without considering the spiritual aspects of your life. You apparently have rejected considering God’s written Word and that of His Son, who came to ease your pain as well as that of all mankind. The Holy Spirit was a critical part of the trinity that I mentioned, why do you suppose that the church recognizes it’s existence and purpose?
By the way have you noticed in the news recently, that the VA has now recognized the necessity of spiritual counseling for Vets who have come from the war zone. Their comments refer directly to the demons that you have been writing about, namely the guilt and the anger, as well as the inability to forgive oneself. There is more to it Jim, then just mythology as you like to fall back on.
Well J, the problem is a bit deeper than that. I don’t accept as real and genuine any words of man by any man
until I can put the word or words together with physics. And that, with all my bizarre life experience, is also
exactly how I am mostly and expect to be received and taken. Life is one grand fiction punctuated with seemingly
bizarre and painful doses of reality. We need the fiction to get up in the morning and go at it and think it will
all somehow work out for the best. We need the fiction that there is a God so we can do our best to please an ideal
that is not down in the muck with the rest of us. Hence my love for the Outmoded and afterthought of a New Testament.
It’s not dramatic. It’s simply instructive. Do good works. Help the sick. Feed the poor. Visit the prisoners.
And come down harshly on the most wealthy, the humans appearing most graced by God, and those who hold themselves
above others by being experts at what God really means.
I am a harsh taskmaster of the human condition and also understand the vital need for religious beliefs and followings in
order to buffer other ‘colder’ forces of human control and leadership. I am a living oxymoron.
Semper fi,
Jim
Some humorous thoughts with your last reply. Physics like in science huh, where scientist have been trying to eliminate God through the theory of evolution and continue to prove the existence of a higher being in the process. Yelp, sounds like something to believe in. Physics sounds like the source of a good laxative to me.
Life does not appear to be fiction, since your scientist have determined that there is a world out there with all of it’s coordinates. They also confirm that there are living entities in this world, of many different species, with different habits of survival. The only thing they right off as fiction, is that a spiritual being created all of this. However that fact is rapidly changing now that some of the greatest scientific minds are coming to the conclusion that there had to be a super power to created all that is before them.
If you are inferring that your life is a major contradiction with the use of the term oxymoron, you may be on to something. Semper fi and God’s blessings upon you.
You obviously read the old theologians, and they were pretty damned good. As you are well aware, there can never be a
scientific conclusion drawn that establishes the existence of God. Nor can there ever be an effective argument that God
does not exist. So, what great minds think about it is as significant as what not so great minds think about it.
The concept of a powerful all knowing and all seeing God has been with humanity for a long time and it’s existence has
served the rise of civilization well. You and I are not going to resolve this question. Both of us will die not knowing…
either forever, or immediately after death. Thanks for the conundrum I haven’t discussed for many years.
Semper fi,
Jim
Well the gunny verified two certifiable problems, one the Capt., was still alive and two, he assured you that you had disobeyed orders. No doubt where he stood.
As for Sugardaddy, he was still trying to cover for him, by pointing out that he did nothing different then what you had done, when it came to disobeying orders of his superiors. Not difficult to figure out why Gunny was willing to cover for Sugardaddy as he was the leader of the black platoon and was a source of protection for the Gunny. Simple math, if the Gunny protected Sugardaddy, then the same was expected for the Gunny. Since the Gunny was the most experienced leader in the field, it would be wise to have an understanding with him and to follow his lead.
If you and your men were taking shelter below the cliff, why would you want to blow the face of the cliff off? Was that not your only cover, below the cliff? Were not most of the men seeking cover in that area? Lost in the details.
I wanted the blow the face of the cliff off because we were tucked in under it
and had just gone through a night taking casualties from the spalling effect of
the stones being blown loose and spattered down. I could do the same for the enemy
approaching while we were protected.
Semper fi,
Jim
Under the current situation, there was not a hell of a lot else that you could do, to protect the men and yourself and I do understand that if in fact, most of the company were up and beneath the face of the cliff. One wonders if Sugardaddy’s platoon was against the cliff as well?
Was there any chance of air support with the sun coming up?
Air would be up but it would have had one hell of a time shooting down or getting ordnance down into that
crack of a place. Thanks for asking though.
Semper fi,
Jim
Wow! This chapter came sooner than I expected. I check twice a day to see if you have written the next one. keep up the good work.
Thank you John. I will keep at it as best I can.
Thanks for caring and commenting about that care.
Semper fi,
Jim
One question I have is what takes more of your time, the actual writing of each segment or the thought you put into responding to the many comments after each segment?. Your responses seem too well thought out to be quick follow ups. I enjoy every facet of both
Thanks. That’a big compliment. I think up each answer, as here, as I write back.
There is no setting aside of questions, thinking about them and then writing later. I don’t have that
kind of time and the answers I give, or response to comments, seem like the only ones that make sense to me
at that moment. This moment in this case. But thanks for thinking what you are thinking about me and them.
I stop and start on the story at different times of the day. Some segments, rarely, like this last one with
the drums, I write straight through. That segment took me a little over two hours, and the another hour for
editing and getting it off. The current segment will take me a bit longer as life made me stop a few times.
Should finish tonight. Thanks again.
Semper fi,
Jim
“The world, that understandable and lawful world, was slipping away.”
― William Golding, Lord of the Flies
“The rules!” shouted Ralph, “you’re breaking the rules!”
“Who cares?”
― William Golding, Lord of the Flies
“Which is better–to have laws and agree, or to hunt and kill?”
― William Golding, Lord of the Flies
Brilliant and terribly applicable of course Brad…very much like you.
Semper fi
Jim
Wow!!
One word, but what a word. Thank you for that Lee and I shall endeavor not to disappoint you.
Semper fi,
Jim
Wow JAMES hard to wait for more! You caught me by surprise with this one, it came quick! Can’t wait for next chapter.
Thanks Harold. I’m on it right now…
Semper fi,
Jim