I came awake instantly. Crashing roars, with distant but shaking explosions, moved me out from the cleft down along the side of a mud wall I’d been sitting up against. I blinked my eyes in fear and nervousness. I was in a cave. I was in the cave. The cave made by the overhang of the concrete runway, routed out by floodwaters as the Bong Song moved about like a living snake in the bottom of the A Shau Valley. My brain fought to take in the dusky damp smell of rotting jungle earth, the shaking pieces of mud and debris falling from the underside of the pavement that had obviously been laid down atop a badly cleared and poorly graded surface. Even in the gloom, barely illuminated through the gaping wound of its opening facing out toward the river, I could see I was alone. Where was Fusner?
I was Junior, the company commander. I climbed to my knees. I didn’t know how long I’d been out, but out I had certainly been. The gloomy sun outside was leaving a shadow stretching along the broken bottom of the cave floor, like the saw-tooth edge of an old woodcutting blade. It had to be afternoon. I got myself together and came to my knees. The cave roof wasn’t high enough to allow me to stand, and I wasn’t sure I was stable enough to manage it anyway. I realized that I’d just thought of myself as Junior. I wasn’t Junior. They called me Junior. I’d never be Junior again if I made it back to the world, which wasn’t likely, as it dawned on me where I really was and what the situation was. I was at the bottom of the life-sucking A Shau Valley, a place nobody back home had heard of, or would ever likely hear about. I pulled my helmet to me, and quickly checked the handle of my .45 without taking it out. The Colt and I counted on each other. I knew it would work when I needed it, and I somehow had come to believe it knew I’d know when that time was right. The Colt being there made me breathe easier. I was okay.
The sounds coming from the outside permeated the cave from through the door-sized opening. Except for the bombs, or whatever the explosions were. Those sounds came right through the walls of the cave. I’d been comatose for a time, but even my near dead state had been no match for the force of those vibrations. There would be no more sleep. I crawled to the cave entrance, wondering if Fusner was dead. He’d never left my side without orders before, and I’d grown accustomed to his presence without knowing I’d grown accustomed to it. He was like a part of my body I’d gotten so used to that I only understood my craven need for it when that part was gone. How could I go on if Fusner was dead? I couldn’t picture it in my mind. I pulled my canteen out and poured water into my muddy hands. I rinsed them, hoping to delay the results of having to deal with whatever was happening outside, by performing the meaningless ritual. I washed my face, using the last of my water.
I was thirsty but I had to think. If I’d had a cigarette, I’d have lit up, in spite of my hands shaking so badly. I clutched them across my stomach to get them to stop.
I remembered the Army combat engineers showing up. They’d gone off to lay down their vintage bridge across the river and bring over the rest of the company.
I looked at the placement of the jagged shadow line running across the floor of the cave. It was mid-afternoon, at least. The company hadn’t made it across, or there’d be Marines all over the place.
I could hear the faint whine of the big Pratt and Whitney engines of the Skyraiders flying at a distance, punctuated by rapid short roars of their twenty-millimeter guns. The explosions had stopped, however. Maybe those had come from a couple of runs of the Sandys dropping their loads. I put my canteen away, going through the motions of doing so very slowly. My job was outside, no matter what was going on, but I didn’t want to leave the cave. I wasn’t sure I could leave the cave.
Somehow, I’d found a pocket of safety and sanity away from the inner walls of the A Shau Valley, running up and down both sides of the what had become the river Styx at its bottom. The Styx was an old mythical river of death I’d read about in college. Was I Charon, the ferryman, taking those from one side of life to their demise on the other side, or was I just one of the passengers, eventually doomed to ride in Charon’s boat?
I made up my mind. I wasn’t leaving the cave. The instant I made the cowardly but intelligent decision, the outside of the cave came right in through the entrance. It was Tex, plummeting through the opening, to sprawl, and then go flat on his stomach right in front to me. His helmet was gone and his fatigue uniform, so spic and span and knife-creased earlier, was literally smoking. I stared down, as he turned his head and stared back at me, his unblinking eyes about the size of golf balls.
“My truck, it’s gone,” he whispered, batting at the parts of his blouse with one hand to get rid of the tendrils of smoke still coming out of it. A tear formed in his left eye, and slowly ran down his muddy smoked cheek. “My men, they’re gone too.”
Tex was a wreck. I’d left him a big strapping character only hours earlier, with a personality as big as a railroad car. What lay before me was a man reduced to elemental form. His eyes had a look I’d seen before, usually in the eyes of the dying.
I didn’t reach down to him. I felt like if I touched him his disassembling would be complete. In only a few hours, the A Shau had taken another human being and reduced him to little more than moving biological plasma, stacked vertically, and waiting to be laid down for fertilizer.
“Did you get the bridge over the river?” I asked, as gently as I could. In spite of the man’s condition, I had to get some information out of him. “Is the Ontos okay?”
I followed when he didn’t answer. If we had the M-50 Ontos , then we had our own version of field artillery. The truck had two fifty caliber machine guns, and I wondered if we still had those, although the guns themselves, without ammunition, were useless.
“The Ontos,” he whispered, looking down at the mud floor of the cave only a few inches from his face. “They came and blew up my truck and my men. I should have had my men come here to this cave. How did you find this?”
I was losing the man, and I knew it. I couldn’t afford to let him go.
“Get on your feet,” I ordered, my voice going from a whisper to the most commanding tone I could summon up. “Stand at fucking attention, and report in like a fucking Marine officer and not some driveling fool.”
The man was six inches taller than I was, and I couldn’t stand in the compressed space, but we both tried. Hunched over, we faced one another.
“The fucking bridge,” I said, glad about the Ontos still being there, and wanting to get outside and check to see if it had six rounds chambered and the eighteen it could store inside, but first I had to know more.
“Army officer,” Tex replied, wiping his wet eye with one dirty hand. “I’m an Army officer.”
“You were a fucking Army officer but not anymore. Until this is over, or you are over, you’re a Marine officer. I’m the company commander and you’re the executive officer, until further notice, got that?”
I had no precedent. I knew nothing about inter-service rank or how any of it really worked when mixed military ranks were together. Tex was a first lieutenant in the Army, and likely a senior one. Did that mean he was company commander of my company? I had no idea and I didn’t care. We were in the A Shau. The river was the Bong Song, although it was not. I was company commander although I was not. And now Tex would be the make-believe Marine Officer XO, or he’d be dead. Those were the choices currently offered by the A Shau, and there was no negotiation. A Shau complaints were handled by Charon aboard that ferryboat.
“What do you want me to do, sir?” Tex asked, total compliance coming off of him like a strong aroma.
“You don’t call me sir, for one thing. I’m Junior in the A Shau, so you might as well call me that too. I want to know about the bridge, right fucking now.” I waited.
I wasn’t much on using the ‘fuck’ word but I knew, for some of the men, it was vital and necessary. For some reason, it worked in circumstances where nothing else would.
“We got the bridge out there fine, but the bank fell apart behind it. The chassis is an old tank chassis, and it’s too heavy. When the cantilever section operated and extended the far edge of the blade fell short. There’s still twenty feet of the river between the machines front edge and the far shore. What with the bulk of the chassis, the river heaps up around the downside end as it goes around. With the velocity and mass of the moving water, there’s no way anybody can cross far enough to reach the bridge.”
“How much rope you got?” I asked, thinking about the only two sections the company had.
One was laid from the far side out to the upside-down Ontos tank, where the end was tightly tied. It wasn’t going anywhere. The other end was on the bank where we’d left it after rescuing Jurgens. That rope still had to be there, or so I hoped.
“None,” Tex replied, his tone disconsolate. “It was all on the truck. Our food, water, extra ammo, everything, all on the truck.”
“Fuck the truck,” I said, “Where are my Marines?” I’d almost said Fusner’s name but changed at the last second. I was company commander again, at least until God and Gunny threw the dice one more time and changed the point again.
“I sent them to the truck to recover what they could,” Tex reported, his voice finally calming, and his words coming out without stutters or long delays between them. “I was there when my men were killed. They died just like that. Standing there. They weren’t even hit by anything. They just fell down and were dead, just like that,” Tex reported, snapping the fingers of his right hand to make his point.
Concussion from being too close to an explosion killed by over-pressuring the lungs while also crushing internal organs. Death was nearly instant, with any personnel so openly exposed going from living to dead before their bodies hit the ground. There was absolutely nothing to be done for men killed that way, except bagging and tagging for pickup, which reminded me of resupply.
“Where are the choppers?” I asked, suddenly. “Did they come in while I was out?”
“No, too much fire,” Tex said.
“God damn it,” I whispered.
The Marine Rotary Wing had denied us again. That left only the Army’s crazy teenager band of warrant officers if they’d come, and those chopper crews would have no idea what we needed or might want if they did come. Most probably, nobody had called them, but only Fusner could tell me that.
“Go get my scout team back, right now,” I ordered. “There’s no point in doing anything with what’s left of the truck. The truck got hit because you left it too close to the jungle edge there. The Ontos survived because the NVA regulars aren’t stupid enough to try to cross a hundred meters of bare concrete to get to it.”
Ever fired the 106?” I asked the question to redirect Tex from thinking about the fact that he was about to run across the same hundred meters of open concrete I’d just said the enemy was too smart to cross. And then, after getting there, he was going to have to cross back with the rest of my team.
“Ah, in training,” Tex started to say, but I stopped him.
“Yes,” I said, knowing where he was going. “Like me, you watched it fire, but didn’t operate it yourself.”
“Yes,” Tex admitted.
“Go get the men,” I ordered, “then get back here, get acquainted with that thing as best you can, and get ready to rock and roll.”
“Yes, sir,” Tex responded, running bent over toward the cave opening.
“And stop calling me sir,” I yelled at his departing back.
I was leaving the cave. I didn’t want to, but there was only one way to suppress high-powered small arms fire from being laid down by the NVA on Tex and my returning scout team. Air would help, but during my short discussion with Tex, the outside world had gone silent again. I had to get the Ontos Tank online and see what I could do. I knew the thing had a turret that moved and axial mounts for both emplacements of the gun’s triple barrels, but I didn’t know how to adjust them to put fire where I needed it. I knew where the fifty caliber semi-auto spotting guns were, and how they worked, but the recoilless tubes were hard-mounted for adjustment. They could only be aimed and fired from inside the vehicle.
I made for the cave entrance but stumbled over something hard. I looked down. I saw the square metal box and immediately knew Fusner had left his Prick 25 radio behind. For me. The AN 323 air radio was right next to it. I had no idea of where the right frequencies were that I might need for either one. I reached down for the main radio handset and squeezed the transmit button, hoping Fusner had thought about how little I knew about radios.
“Gunny, you on here?” I asked, not expecting anything to come back.
“Where the hell have you been?” the Gunny screamed. I pulled my head back from the radio.
I instantly decided I wasn’t going to tell the Gunny I’d been asleep. I paused for a few seconds to think, before replying.
“Tex, the Army engineer who laid that bridge down across the river, is running across the tarmac to get Jurgens and my guys back so do what you can to cover them.”
I waited, while the Gunny processed that data. I hoped he’d get back to thinking and acting to survive instead of evaluating my conduct.
“Some engineer,” the Gunny said. “We can’t use the damned bridge. They laid it too short.”
“Call command,” I replied, thinking about the bridge problem while I talked. “Get those Army brats to come in and drop ammo, grenades, and anything else you can think of. We need C-rats and 106 rounds too.”
“Great,” the Gunny said, his voice evidencing disgust. “How’s that supposed to help us get across the damned river to get to it?”
“We’ve got a fully stocked Ontos over here,” I lied.
“The Sandys have plenty of light and time to get re-armed and fly cover. I’ll have Jurgens bring the rope from this side, get out on the bridge, and then throw the end over. Everyone comes across one by one, using air and the Ontos for fire suppression.”
The radio went silent for a bit. I waited. I hadn’t had time to call Cowboy and Hobo so the ‘air’ part of my plan was all conjecture. The Ontos had an unknown supply of rounds inside its turret, but I had no idea how many, or if there were any more than the six in the tubes, and I hadn’t even checked those. It didn’t seem to make logical sense to drive one of those lethal looking little monsters all the way down Highway 548 with rounds in all the chambers. The Ontos might not have any ammunition for its guns at all.
“We saw the truck go up,” the Gunny finally said. “You got anybody left that can operate that Ontos? It’s not like firing a 106 on a tripod. Have you talked to anybody about air support? What’s this new plan going to be called? How about ‘On a Wing and a Prayer,’ since your Moses Plan didn’t seem to work out to well, except for Moses himself, that is.”
“You can sit over there, right where you are for as long as you want, Gunny,” I replied, in anger.
The man was infuriating. His implication that I’d gotten myself across the river and left the company behind went through me like a red hot poker. I’d been in country for two weeks and wasn’t even an officer in name, much less role, yet I was being required to come up with one solution after another for problems that could not have been conceived of in training or anywhere else in my background. On top of that, the Gunny took credit for any successful result and I was enthusiastically blamed for each and every failure.
“I’ll call in the Army,” the Gunny replied, no friendliness in his tone, either. “Command is gonna be pissed. Fuck ‘em. It’s on you, anyway. This plan better work or there’s going to be a whole lot of your dead Marines dotting the landscape.”
I didn’t say anything. I didn’t miss the ‘your’ in his comment. I looked out of the cave entrance. Suddenly the dull sunlight shining through the murky monsoon clouds looked more attractive than where I was. But I had to try to get through on the AN 323 first.
“Cowboy?” I transmitted, not knowing the codes Fusner used to initiate contact with them.
“Roger that, Flash,” Jacko replied immediately, like he’d been waiting for the transmission. “How’s things down there on Planet Mongo? Doctor Zarkoff seems to have made a slight error in laying that bridge.”
I couldn’t help but smile. The references Jacko liked to make, using the Flash Gordon series as a model, weren’t as inaccurate as I’d originally thought.
“We’re about to be all in the open down here Jacko,” I began, trying to be careful, because I knew transmitting in the clear, and that had the likely potential of being overheard and understood. “Going to cross the big brown ribbon, insane Army Huey drop to follow, and one Ontos holding off the mud people. What can you do?”
“When’s the party set to begin?” Cowboy himself transmitted. “We packed a lunch and can set the table with a Colt automatic. Three hour loiter, gone for an hour, and then back to serve dinner. What time is it, by the way? Forgot my watch.”
The code was childish but effective. I knew Cowboy was telling me to give him the time I wanted the clock to start ticking. Forty-five minutes later the Sandys would make their first strafing run, and drop God knew what else as they went by. Then they’d stay on station, needing only an hour to leave and get back with more ordnance. We had air.
I held up my left wrist and checked out my Gus Grissom watch. I spit on the crystal and rubbed the mud off its face with the cuff of my right sleeve. It was two-thirty.
“A single trey,” I said into the headset microphone.
Three o’clock. That would give me half an hour to get my scout team back and then forty-five minutes to recover the rope and get ready to get it out to the end of the bridge, and also try to figure out how to use the Ontos for direct fire. I knew we’d need all the fire we could bring to bear. The NVA knew our company was across the river trying to cross, and the bridge failure had no doubt given them hope that they could wipe out everyone if they did it right.
“Roger that, Flash, we’ll be lookin’ at you kid before you know it.”
I reached for the Prick 25 handset, tossing the AN 323 rig aside.
Instead of trying to figure out some other way to communicate the information to the Gunny I simply repeated the conversation to him I’d had with Jacko and Cowboy.
“So, you got air, anyway,” the Gunny replied, letting me know, in his way, that he’d figured out the details buried in the message. It would have been more comforting to hear him use the word ‘we’ instead of ‘you,’ but for whatever reasons, our relationship was frayed and strained.
Three forty-five was the real kickoff, and I’d have loved to confirm that with him, but knew I didn’t dare. The dice were being thrown down across the bottom of the valley and I couldn’t increase the risk adding anything more to the huge risks already present.
“Check out the Ontos,” the Gunny said as if I hadn’t thought of that. “We’re watching to cover your team but, well, you understand.”
The company was all but out of ammo, and then there was also the likelihood that the Marines with the Gunny would save what they had for covering fire during their own crossing. Giving Marines orders in combat was no way comparable to ordering them around in training or peacetime, as I’d so bitterly discovered, and was constantly being reminded.
I put my damaged helmet on my head, checked my .45 again, grabbed the binoculars and exited the cave into the mist that didn’t seem thick enough to be a real mist at all. It was more like vague rolling ground clouds sticky thick with water. At a distance, the faint fog-like quality of the hot dense air would provide some concealment when my scout team started its run I knew. There also seemed to be more light than the clouds overhead should have allowed through. I squinted my eyes, against the glaring brightness, and then crawled up the steep bank. It took only seconds to cover the distance and crouch behind the heavy steel body of the Ontos. I peered around the southern side of the armored vehicle and checked out the smoking pyre that had to have been the Army truck. It was still burning. The jungle growth was too thick and high for me to see the body of the vehicle itself. I didn’t see any movement anywhere around the area where the smoke tendrils rose up. Tex was obviously waiting for something. I checked the entire expanse of the heat-waving air, the heated concrete below causing the mist to roil and move atop it. Tex’s body was nowhere to be found on any of its surface. I hoped he’d made it. Our company didn’t survive officers very well, and I’d made him XO.
The big iron doors at the back of the Ontos were heavy, but well balanced and not difficult to pull open. I climbed up and into the small crew capsule.
“Shit,” I breathed. There were switches and buttons everywhere. I knew immediately that there was no hope I could operate the Ontos in combat, and I also knew the Gunny had known that when we’d talked on the radio. It would probably take me half an hour just to figure out how to start it up. But I also hadn’t missed the Browning .30 Caliber machine gun mounted on the top of the turret.
Instead of storing 106 rounds, the crew must have chosen to store those in the bed of the truck. They’d stored the machine gun ammo in the Ontos instead of the truck. All around me were boxes of .30 Caliber ball ammunition for the Browning. I counted. There were twelve of them. Three thousand rounds. At five hundred rounds a minute, if fired continuously, that gave me about six minutes of cover. More if I was able to fire in short bursts, to avoid overheating the barrel. I’d never fired a Browning machine gun before but I’d been able to spend time with it in training, where specialists had done the actual firing. It was a very simple gun. A cloth belt held the ammo together in discrete little open pockets. The lever top of the receiver opened up and was laid down with the end of the belt across the flat surface, feeding from left to right. The lid was closed, and the bolt handle pulled back with the palm of one hand, and that was it. That I could do. I carefully moved the twenty-five-pound boxes through the big doors at the back of the Ontos, and stacked them next to one another on either side of the Browning. I stood on the platform below, left by the open doors, and loaded the first belt. I then worked my old sock pieces out of my left thigh pocket and stuck them in my ears. The thirty caliber bullets were about twenty percent more powerful than the NATO rounds used in the M-60, and they were louder when they went off. I was ready. I wondered if Tex and the guys were ready, or if they’d understand. I had no way of knowing.
I pulled back on the operating lever, advancing the belt and getting the first round ready to enter the chamber. I pulled back again and the first cartridge was set into the barrel. The Browning, unlike the M-60, fired from a closed bolt. If the gun got hot there was always the possibility of the thing ‘cooking off’ rounds from a red-hot chamber, which is why the operating handle was always pulled back with the palm of the hand facing up. A cook-off would break the operators thumb if it was in the way. I aimed the big rough sights of the Browning so the tip of the barrel was pointing out and up, toward the far hill the NVA had used as its base of fire previously. I looked down at my Speedmaster. It was a quarter to three.
“On a Wing and a Prayer,” I whispered, and pulled the trigger.
<<<<<< Beginning | Next >>>>>>
You have lost the link to this page at
https://jamesstrauss.com/30-days-has-september-second-ten-days/page/2/
Maybe introduced a typo? The page is there, but the link is gone
Thanks for the update.
I think it is corrected.
I think Harvey might have tripped a wire.
~~~~~Smile
Semper fi,
Jim
THE FINAL INSPECTION
The Soldier stood and faced God,
Which must always come to pass.
He hoped his shoes were shining,
Just as brightly as his brass.
‘Step forward now, Soldier,
How shall I deal with you?
Have you always turned the other cheek?
To My Church have you been true?’
The soldier squared his shoulders and said,
‘no, Lord, I guess I ain’t.
Because those of us who carry guns,
Can’t always be a saint.
I’ve had to work most Sundays,
And at times my talk was tough.
And sometimes I’ve been violent,
Because the world is awfully rough.
But, I never took a penny,
That wasn’t mine to keep.
Though I worked a lot of overtime,
When the bills just got too steep.
And I never passed a cry for help,
Though at times I shook with fear.
And sometimes, God, forgive me,
I’ve wept unmanly tears.
I know I don’t deserve a place,
Among the people here.
They never wanted me around,
Except to calm their fears.
If you’ve a place for me here, Lord,
It needn’t be so grand.
I never expected or had too much,
But if you don’t, I’ll understand.
There was a silence all around the throne,
Where the saints had often trod.
As the Soldier waited quietly,
For the judgment of his God.
‘Step forward now, you Soldier,
You’ve borne your burdens well.
Walk peacefully on Heaven’s streets,
You’ve done your time in Hell.’
~Author Unknown~
Thanks so much for taking us back Jim!
Semper fi, and thanks for your willingness and support in putting it up here too.
Semper fi,
Jim
There is a mansion waiting for each of us in Heaven, the Savior said so.
Well, J, I sure hope so but lack the fire of conviction on that one…still working on it…
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
We have a couple of MIA’s.
I have been holding this question back hoping these two would surface but since tidbits are being resolved it’s time for a buddy check.
Sgt. Stevens… thought he made it across with your scout team.
Cpl Abraham Lincoln Jones… thought he was last seen running up the east side of the river with the other rope.
See I built this scale model of your run through the jungle trying to keep up with you.
I am standing here holding these two Marines and I don’t know where to place them.
In this coming segment you will see the rejoining of characters.
In this story, as in a combat zone, everything becomes focused down and characters are either
on hand but ignored or if only a bit distant from one’s own attention then not truly noticed.
Please send me a photo of what you built Steve because I am astounded that you would not
only make the effort but then be able to use it as a illustrative guide for the development of the story.
I cannot thank you enough for the thought, and then the action.
I feel like I am living a bit of Close Encounters of the Third Kind!
That and this is special.
Semper fi
Jim
Another great episode as usual. I just read over the error’s and move on. I know what you mean and I figure it is proof read anyway. Just received your book on the first ten days. I have been following all along but I have a young nephew who was in the Army but never saw any combat. He is always interested in Vietnam so I gave it to him. I told him this is the real shit that happened over there. He has never really ask me that much about it and I’m kinda glad.So here it is so read it and you will see. I think he will enjoy your book. I guess I will have to order another copy for myself to keep. Keep up the great work Jim and we old vets appreciate what you are doing. Oh and I see us Army boys might have to bail your ass out.Lol.Some of those young chopper pilots had brass balls.
Thank you Gordon. There were some really good men in that valley in those days but sometimes,
like back here, it was hard to tell the difference…
Semper fi,
Jim
Writing is fantastic.Here are a few technical observations:Early on, you mentioned adjusting height of burst on VT rounds. I think you meant mechanical time. You also had a paragraph about “low angle direct fire” and “high angle fire”.Low angle and high angle are both indirect fire, where as direct fire is line-of-sight. I never worked with 175s, but I think there were a few errors in regard to 175s. Round weighed 150 lb and fired powder zones. Also, did not have nukes.You probably had 8 inch in mind when you wrote of 200 lb projos, firing high charges and nukes.
Looking forward to the next installment.
Correct on all counts Randy. Thanks for paying such close attention. You are right, I did not have the proper data about
175mm nukes, or the lack of them. thanks for the help and following the story so closely…
Semper fi,
Jim
Hey LT I just noticed this in reading the story again. When you call gunny and told him to call the Army brats for resupply and he responded about getting across the river, you both were communicating in the clear. Tells the mud people you low on supplies and the company is still on the other side of the river. Yet you were very discreet in communicating with Jacko about upcoming plan. Just wondering if the first communication was that open. Great story as always. Thank You
We needed supplies all the time and that was no mystery. And communications were always hard until they brought in
the frequency shifting technology later on. Thanks for watching things so closely and holding my feet to the fire JT.
Semper fi,
Jim
No intent to hold your feet to the fire sir.
Just a figure of speech JT. No offense taken…
Semper fi,
Jim
I was Ontos crewman mos.0353, served with Mike 3/5, 1st. Tank Bn. & 2nd. AT Bn. A co. 1967- 70. Can’t wait to read your Book, Semper Fi.
You were in the thick of it for sure, with that outfit at that time. Thank you for wanting to read the published book.
I much appreciate that.
Semper fi,
Jim
Great read I was waiting for the next one and boom here it is filled to the max with excitement and more.
Thanks for another great chapter to read it’s been an amazing story and I’m looking forward to the next one to come.
Thank you for putting this great story out here for us to read and to try and understand what life was like for you guys over there, thank you for sharing this part of your life with this great read
Tom
Boom, you should have another installment tomorrow Tom. Thanks for the compliment and coming on here to write it.
I much appreciate the sincerity of guys like you writing in to put your stamp of approval on it.
Semper fi,
Jim
James I guess it must be nice to have all the proofreaders correcting typos. It just means you got a lot of readers!!! Hell I read it and go right through them and never even notice them!!! That’s how good a story your writing. I’m just a retired oilfield hand and never served like you did but I recognize good leadership when I see it. I would have been proud to have served with you in the Marines or on the floor of a drilling rig.
Thanks Russell, that’s quite a compliment and I thank you for that.
The ‘editors’ on here are indeed a big help. It took me half an hour to find
the Fusner error in the last segment after being told about it (I had to change the name of the respondent to Tex).
I read and reread and I kept seeing it wrong until one of you
guys pushed my nose into the exact line.
Thanks for being so expansive and such a supporter.
Made me smile this morning…thank you.
Semper fi,
Jim
Sir,
I’m sure you don’t remember my name but we correspond back and forth awhile back. I told you I grew up in Lawton and still reside here. Remember? Anyway, on a lighter note, if your book were a movie I could see Sam Elliot as gunny. I know he already played the part before. Who would play you? I know you will respond because you respond to everyone. STOP and keep writing!!! We are constantly impatiently waiting for the next chapter. Keep up the good work and God bless you sir.
I cannot stop. I am driven, not just by writing the sequences but by writing here, as well. The segments are the past and you guys are the present. I knew about the past but I did not know about the present, the way it is, of your existence. I liked Lawton with its sort of country attitude but not. Military, but not. Seedy, but not…and so on. Thanks for writing on here. I don’t have a clue as to who would be me. But then, I don’t know that many young actors. Thanks for the blessing and for taking the time to write to me on here…
Semper fi,
Jim
Not so sure about Jurgens having your 6 just yet . I hope he does , we will see . Gunny, o my I haven’t figured him out . I think he maybe. ……….well lets just say he wants a big feather in his hat but wants someone else to shoot the damn bird! !
Good point Ryan. It is damned hard to count on other people in a combat situation.
The men around you are special to themselves in particular and then to those who can
enhance their survival. Of such things true bonding is not only possible but very
likely…but the trouble comes in the evaluation of data. Who’s enhancing and who’s risking that survival?
thanks for your comment and for writing on here…
Semper fi,
Jim
I loved the Army Chopper support. We were up just a half click from the DMZ and Loas border. We were socked in no chow or water. Mary Hueies brought them to us. Payment was 25 Chinese SKSs. We found 269 of them still packed in cosmoline We were extremely grateful.
Those warrant officers, those kids, they were something of wonder and expressive bravery and honor.
They came, no matter what. U.S. Army warrant officers. Never a better air power group has existed but they’re
unloaded and nearly unknown in the annals of combat. I sure remember them and revere what I considered those kids,
although most were as old as I was…
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim, you got sand for sure. Reading so fast now I wonder how you managed to think as clearly as you did. Great writing sir.
Jim F
I am not certain, James, that I did think that clearly, as you put it. I just went for
it time after time after time. There was little in the way of evaluation for effect. There was try it and if
it worked great and if it didn’t then try something else right away.
Thanks for the writing on here and your support…
Semper fi,
Jim
One of the rare times that I just happened to click on the newest chapter before any comments had come in here on the blogsite. As I’ve said before, the comments here have become part of the story for me, and I like to read them for at least the first half day before jumping on with mine. The comments/likes/reactions come in like that air-cooled 30 as soon as the page hits Facebook though. That’s amazing “pull” you’ve got going there Strauss! You haven’t mentioned book sales, and I presume that’s by design, but I can’t help but think they must be very satisfactory. I plug it unabashedly 🙂 You really caught me by surprise with the Tex debacle. Being a 1300 MOS, I wasn’t surprised by the bridging fiasco. We (USMC) didn’t even have these in the TO, as they were designed for use in secure areas. Nothing about the A Shau would indicate “secure”. More good writing, glad to have you back in the groove.
SF,
PFJ
Yes came out of nowhere, like so many came down from the air from nowhere….or so it seemed.
The dovetailing of units and fire and differential military services and elements in the Nam was something
to behold if experienced. There was a whole load of small teams working apart but working together.
Amazing coordination not seeming like much of anything was coordinated.
Semper fi, John, my friend….and thanks for welcoming me back.
Jim
James try as I might to remember, I have never seen one troop who was not concerned about saving their own ass on the field of battle and that includes officers as well as enlisted. When one thinks about it, no one fights alone, unless all others are already dead. Therefore scared or not, it behoves anyone in battle, to save every friendly troop possible. One would be willing to bet that even Audie Murphy came to that conclusion, when he was behind that tank turret on the day he became famous.
Your constant fear was you best alley, so quit knocking it!
Well, J, I don’t really knock it. I admit to it, which is not common these days.
It’s a huge part of combat and it drives, motivates, teaches and forces all sorts of actions
not normal anywhere else, and it leaves a bitter taste of bile all through the years when it’s over
and those night memories we have all tried to block with substances, lies and avoidance at night.
Thanks for the usual pithy commentary, my friend.
Semper fi,
Jim
O…M…G….; Deep Doo-doo, back to bad news on top of bad news. What a roller coaster of events.
So many questions…need the next episode even faster than you and your Marines need resupplied and reinforced.
May God be with you…back in the next episode–AND while you are writing and reliving these horrid moments. I am sure it isn’t easy, but it is a story you are telling that needs told. Praying for you for strength…
Walt, my friend. Thanks for coming on here to write again. I am not sure I am telling what needs to be told but some
guys find it satisfying to be reading something that is founded down deep in that muck with those animals, man and otherwise.
Thanks for your usual erudite commentary…
Semper fi,
Jim
Very familiar with the A Shau Valley!! Was there in 67/68 with c/co/501st/101st Abn. Hell on earth is what it was, as you have written. Wonder sometimes how the hell we ever got out of that place. Great writing,James, definitely has my attention. Keep it up. Airborne all the way, brother.
I hope my descriptions of the valley measure up to your experienced eye. Sometimes I’m not sure that I remember it exactly right.
The colors, the river, the fauna and flora and the painfulness and then deadliness of the entire place. Thanks for the compliment and
the writing of it here…
Semper fi,
Jim
Man, the shit just keeps getting deeper! Looking forward to the next chapters to see how things play out.
One edit:
The Browning, unlike the M-60, fired from a closed bolt. If the gun got hot (they) there was always the possibility of the thing ‘cooking off’ rounds from a red hot chamber, which is why the operating handle was always pulled back with the palm of the hand facing up. Delete they.
Got it Richard. Thanks for the edit. I loved that Browning. Some say that a few Ontos had fifties on top but not the one I was standing on that day.
The downside of the fifty is that it has heavy ammunition and, although that is wonderful for some things it means that you cannot keep up a constant rate of fire for very long without a lot of ammo. And for some reason the Browning did not heat up as fast as a fifty.
Thanks for the comment and the compliment…
Semper fi,
Jim
For some odd reason the commo section of A/5/2 (dusters) was assigned the only 50 in the unit. One of my fellow radiomen fell in love with the thing and could take it apart and clean it with his eyes closed. The only time it was fired was at a firing range. The duster guys were taking bets that it wouldn’t fire, but it did and we were really proud of our man for taking such good care of it. It was good to know that we could kick some ass with it if ever needed.
Richard, glad you never had to fire that thing at anybody. Funny how it fires both ways over the years. Long after the war
becomes a distant hollow memory it plays fresh every night for us…
Semper fi,
Jim
The Ontos, several that I saw in Okinawa prior to your service had a 50 mounted on top of 3 pods. When I saw it fired a tracer round wad used and only one round was fired at a time as it was used for the aiming for the 106’s
For fifty caliber semi-automatics were mounted on the Ontos, slaved by steel bands to the 106 guns, because their trajectories were the same as the 106 for the first 1500 years.
They fired tracer only. The Browning 30 was set up emplaced above the rear doors in the center of the machine.
Semper fi,
Jim
Our company didn’t survive officers very well, and I’d made him XO. I laughed at the acerbic with right there.
Thanks Mark. I’m not sure I got the humor in the writing. Just came to me. Thanks for letting me know
you are entertained by the rendition of the continuing story…
And thanks for writing that on here.
Semper fi,
Jim
James, you are back to your best describing the mayhem of battle and how as commanding officer you developed an action plan on the run.
Great writing and great story. Keep them coming!
On the run was about all we had. We were driven by reaction because the enemy and the elements and the geography were relentless…
and our vaunted supply and reinforcement forces preferred to lag way behind and stay back there…
Semper fi,
Jim
Glad to see you back. Just a coule of edits: ” The Ontos” he whispered, looking down at the mud floor of the CAVE
What do you want me to do Tex asked, total compliance coming off OF him.
As always, great stuff Sir.
Thanks gunny for your support and sharp eye.
So noted and corrected
Semper fi
Jim
There is a typo – “Whatdo you want me to do Sir? Tex asked, total compliance coming off o him like a strong aroma.
Great reading. I look forward to each chapter. You seem to be writing from the heart. Thanks
Thanks Hayward,noted and corrected
Semper fi,
Jim
Another episode leaving us on the edge of our seats. Thank You not only for your setving but your sharing as well.
Thanks Al, for the compliment and for putting it up on here. I know that a lot of the guys read but don’t comment
because writing is not something that comes natural to many people…especially after they’ve had their brains
put in the Vietnam blender and mixed a bit.
Thanks,
Semper fi,
Jim
just friggin awesome. Glad your back
Back and hard at it. This next segment will come much sooner. In the groove,
although I don’t have my voice back at all….and my wife is happy.
Semper fi,
Jim
One was wondering if you have the coughing sickness that has been spreading across the country? That is one of the toughest viruses to fight one has ever seen and it lasts forever, no matter what you are taking for it. I had to battle the damn thing for six weeks, so hope you don’t have it.
Yes, exactly J. Gone now. Again. Keeps on coming back for no damned reason at all! Third time.
thanks for being aware and caring about my health on here…
Semper fi,
Jim
Hope you got some antibiotics to fight it. I used theraflu hot for the first few weeks, but had to get some antibiotics to knock it out.
It is very similar to the old whooping cough which I caught back a few years ago from illegal Mexicans in the area. Doctor wouldn’t believe me when I told him what I had, until I made him run a blood test and sure enough, that is what it was. I noticed that this recent virus had many of the same symptoms.
NOTE: Whooping cough will continue to come back on you until you treat it properly. I suffered through two events of it before changing doctors and making him run a blood test specifically for pertussis.
NOTE: it doesn’t matter if you have had the shot in the past, in order to get it again. Once you have the whooping cough, it stays in your system.
Thanks J, but I don’t think it was that. My throat got sore and I couldn’t talk for awhile, but the cough
part was very minor. I am hoping this third time around is a charm…
Semper fi,
Jim
I might replace “plasma” with protoplasm. This comes from an old biology major.
Protoplasm is more appropriate Dave, for accuracy. But I liked the plasma word better and it was sort of close.
I don’t know. Sometimes I try to use what works rather than what is entirely accurate…
Semper fi, and thanks for expressing your thoughts about it here…
Jim
Thanks again sir (its hard for this old cpl to call an officer by his name, I only had one officer that I thought of by his name -Ron- I called him Sir, some had other names when we talked about them not to them, men on here know what I mean). Like I said on a comment on the boat house boy story you have a gift for choosing adjectives. Some writers I could scan a few pages close the book and rewrite it pretty much it was written. Not your writing that is part of the brilliance of you work.
I hope my comment is an encouragement.
I really appreciate your compliment on the writing. I am not sure I really understand it because, although I read my writing, it’s so automatic to me
that I don’t see anything special about it. Thank you most sincerely for that and for saying it on a public forum like this is.
I smile at your words, and think deeply about the loyalty and trust you’ve placed in me without using those words…
Semper fi,
Jim
Hey, what got the army truck , sapper with a satchel charge or NVA artillery?
Sapper. Sorry I was not more clear about that. Their artillery could not reach us down in the cleft where
that old air field was located. I could never, and still don’t, understand how they expected to survive an airfield
down there and then land and take off all the time with those huge cliff walls on both sides…
Semper fi,
Jim
Good to know you gathered some much needed rest at the end of the chapter as well as you needed it after writing it. As many others I was getting concerned about where you were. That respiratory thing seems to widespread. Great to hear you’re back up and running. Shit’s getting ready to hit the fan,hope ya gotta handle on that 60. One bad ass piece of equipment!!! You Sir, are a leader among men. Fear is the prime motivator of the human instinct. You will either rise up and face the challenge or coward and hide. Other than the first day, respect to the Gunny, who knew you would hit the back door….you have shown nothing less than being a leader. Don’t cut yourself short. I didn’t get the luck of the draw to be there, but would have been proud to have served under your command…”Junior” you Sir are Bad Ass
Jack I would loved to have had you there and so many of the guys here too…except for the fact that I would have
likely left you there. And, as you know, those guys have remained with me all my life and the memories you are reading
are so detailed about them because, well, that is the way God leaves us when we’ve visited that kind of crucible and come
under that deadly mincing pestle of crushing misfortune.
Thanks for the usual well written comment and your wishes for my continuance…
Semper fi,
Jim
Don’t care what you say Brother. I would have shared a fighting hole with Junior any time any where.
Monster like that got your six? You got a fighting chance.
I ain’t gonna make your Combat Rap Session cause I am on the other side of the planet.
Told all of my friends about it and I will be there in spirit. I would just love to shake your hand and swill a beer with Junior. I made peace with my monster a long time ago. Except for some occasional snake stomppin life is 5 by 5 and clear.
Five by Five and it don’t mean nuthin’ Funny the expressions we carried home and stay with us to this day.
Di Di Mau. Number One. Number Ten. Beau Coup. Oh yeah, we brought that muther fucking war home all right
and then buried it deep inside your private little cultural worlds…fully accessible only at night..
Semper fi, brother,
Jim
Junior is still taking your six. Good. We just got us a little war started here in Mindanao ISIS aligned. We got martial law now so I will keep my white ass low. Wife ha family in the South so I might have a house full if they have to evacuate. Gonna need to bump up my s4 Shake hands with Junior for me and give him a hug. Might be time to get my monster out of the box. Stay low and keep movin. And don’t get far from that keyboard. You got me hanging here like a kid watchin a flash Gorden sereal.
Well Bud, can’t say I wish I was there, but if I was there I’d want to be with you.
Thanks for the update and I will keep pounding away. I don’t know what guys like me can
do from so far away back here. Think of something!
Semper fi,
Jim
Just when help arrives things go to hell in a serious enemy attack.
Thanks Jlb, for the accurate appraisal. Yeah, it was an interesting time, that odyssey through the valley.
Odin might have loved it but for the rest of us it was a continuing run through a a gauntlet of hell…
Semper fi,
Jim
James, in paragraph 8 – “I felt like if I touched him his dissembling would be complete.” I believe the word should be disassembling – as in falling to pieces rather than dissembling – telling a falsehood. As always, you write prose that grabs me by the throat and won’t let go!
Appreciate the help, Jerry
Noted and corrected
Semper fi,
Jim
We were there at that airstrip sometime last half of ’68 with A co, 1/327, 101st. As we spread out a perimeter, I stepped down into a half dug foxhole to sit on the edge to relieve myself of my pack when I spotted three prongs barely visible out of the red clay. Instantly recognizing what it was from my stateside training, a “bouncing betty”. My mom’s prayers were saving me yet again from ruin and destruction. She never knew how close I came to that Charon boat crossing many times, but I knew she prayed night and day for my safe return. Your writing and story telling talent deserves a Bronze Star from me to you. Write on Sir.
Thank you Paul. I’ll take the Bronze…sort of the enlisted Marine’s Medal of Honor, with that funny little “v” that keeps falling
off…Maybe it is only the harnessing of abject and demoralizing fear that allows us to qualify for anything that might resemble
the cultural definition of heroism. I fought the hard fight, night and day, as long as I could, to stay alive and to stay my men
alive around me…and I’ll never be certain that I wasn’t ‘staying them alive’ just to stay me alive. That’s why I’ve never really
managed to do anything but pass by that one block up on that wall in D.C. I was so relieved in Winfield, Kansas, because I’d heard that
they have a miniature wall. Got there and went. It only has Kansas veterans on it. Whew.
Semper fi,
Jim
Just finished “The First Ten Days”. I could not put it down. I have so many thoughts, comments, questions, and memories while reading this well written account, that I feel cheated that I must wait for the next one.
My dreams have returned, but I’ve pretty well made friends with them, (I even have conversations with the PAVN guy trying to bayonet me) and the old sweats and sounds I used to make do not return.
I was Army, (101st, 11B) in 3 major battles, and many fire-fights and village assaults, so I feel that I know of what you write. Some things are different, mainly because of differences between Army and Marine Corps, and your unique mission, but the sights, smells, conditions, and descriptions of combat and human interaction are incredibly well done.
So, just a note of Thanks.
Thanks for the confirmation of reality on here. A few guys on Facebook alleged that I made the whole thing up
because I have to put fiction on the book cover. I guess they didn’t really read it or they were never in the shit
themselves. My main audience is the one I write for…the guys who’ve been, and they know. thanks for the comment
and for your own service over there…
Semper fi,
Jim
SO now you have an ONTOS and no crew? What a hell of a time for OJT.
Yes, that sucked, especially when I found out that Tex knew no more than I about operating the little piece of terror.
As you will discover as you read on. The Ontos was real. On here some guys have said that the Army didn’t have any.
In truth, I don’t remember the vehicles markings. Was it really Army at all or simply borrowed and dragged along for
the strange mission Tex came in on? I don’t know. Stuff came and went over in that valley and You don’t really get to go
back or fact check much of anything. Best I can, I am laying it down.
Semper fi,
Jim
The Ontos was a piece of equipment that I had never really seen before you wrote about it. But then again, I’m an aviation guy!I started to read up on the Ontos and found that they mainly went to the Marines so I also thought that maybe it was a mistake to say it was an Army unit that had it. As I read more articles it appears that towards the end of their lifespans they were given to some army units until they were no longer driveable. I read in one article that if they weren’t drivable they were used as bunkers or the turrets were taken off and used for stationart gun emplacements
. It sounded like it was a great piece of equipment that the higher ups failed to utilize and support! Love the writing! Thanks for your service.
The Ontos could have been turned into a much greater weapons platform than they made of it, although it
was quite something all by itself under certain circumstances. Thank you for writing about it and support me on this site.
Semper fi,
Jim
Keep it coming Lt! Outstanding! Semper Fi!
Thanks Tim. I am on it and working away again. Had to back off for a few days to recover my
breathing shit. God, I hate laying around like that. I still have that same high level of energy I had
back in the Nam. Maybe it’s part of PTSD, I don’t know. Thanks for writing on here and the compliment in your few words…
Semper fi,
Jim
I figgered the bridge laying device would get messed up , not the truck load of supplies !! I was beginning to worry about how long it took for this segment to get posted & then heard a bug set in on you !! Hope all is well now !! Us old farts (me74) gotta be careful!! Keep it up & thanks !!
Funny your nickname is Tex, like the guy in the story. Thanks for caring about my health.
I am writing away on the next segment as I take a break to answer a few comments. Should have another up by tomorrow…
Semper fi,
Jim
So happy to hear from you again – I was stuck on the other side of the river with Gunny!!
First fired the M1919 back in early 1958 – awesome! And I greatly preferred it over the M-60. There is a good bit of difference between the two – .308 vs .30-06, the ’06 wins! And you are right – palm up, for sure.
Not going to nitpick on typos, Lord knows I make enough myself.
You have yourself in a pickle there, you and your team on one side of the Bong Song, the balance of the Company on the other. But – you have your “Wing and a Prayer” going for you. Looking forward to the sequel, James – keep up the great work.
The Browning was, well, a Browning. Were there ever any better ground weapons made for infantry?
No cuts from stampings or failures from shoddy metal fatigue. And the 30.06, although today’s ballistic data does not show
it, beat the shit out of the NATO 308. Plus the .30 would fire and fire and fire while the 60 barrel would overheat like mad
and just try to find one of those asbestos gloves to change barrels, or even one of the spare barrels. The cloth belt could be
pulled and jerked both ways in cases of jamming too, unlike the linked 308 rounds.
thanks for your thoughts and for the compliment…and writing that shit on here.
Semper fi,
Jim
Thinking i had lost you keep it coming good read would like to send you some things if i had a address i own a surplus store
My address is 507 Broad Street, Lake Geneva, Wisconsin 53147. My cell is 2625815300. I’ve put it up here before
in the clear although some people think I should be more private. For what? I live with great video and seismic
stuff around my three acres and great fields of fire. Not that I will ever need any of that. I’ve only got the
Starlight Scope I bought on Ebay but one day I’ll have NVG Gen IIIs and then my needless security will be complete!
Thanks for thinking of me and sending anything at all. Fun!
Semper fi,
Jim
Well, hell, Mike. I got the stuff! Can’t believe how neatly made and professionally polished that stuff
is! Wonderful. Like Christmas. Love the .50 Caliber stuff. I will admit that my wife is a bit trepidations about
wearing earrings made of bullet cartridges when they look every bit like bullets.
Thanks a million my friend. Made my day.
Semper fi,
Jim
When asking about the choppers, you refer to Fusner who is not supposed to be there. Were you talking to Tex?
It is not clear in your description as to who was responsible for blowing up the truck, was it enemy fire or the Sandy’s?
Enemy sappers, and I was not clear then. Fusner should have been Tex. That was a typo.
Nice work helping here J.
Semper fi,
Jim
Read so fast I over looked a couple more. Can’t help but getting caught up in the story too much to catch the typos at times.
His eyes had a look I’d seen before (I’d seen before), usually in the eyes of the dying. Remove (I’d seen before)
I carefully moved the twenty-five pound boxes through the big doors at the back of the Ontos, and stacked (then) next to one another on either side of the Browning.(them)
Thanks for the sharp eye,
Noted and corrected
Semper Fi
Jim
I must have missed it but how did the truck get blown up? Sappers infiltrated Rpg.
Sappers. I didn’t do a good job of describing how that happened because the truck was in defilade
and I didn’t really see it. Better resolution as we proceed from the others though.
Thanks for picking that up and coming on here to write it…
Semper fi,
Jim
That was nagging me also so I just re-read the chapter. Tex letting the truck park right next to the jungle right. I had assumed correctly but the answer was right here all along. Keep up the good work I’m loving it.
AL
Thanks. We all made such simple stupid decisions back then.
It was so easy to fuck up it was something else again. I wasn’t always planning
or having a solid grasp of what was going on…
semper fi,
Jim
Bits and pieces that’s what our nightmares are but to relive 30 days of hell in great detail
one chapter after another, feeling the pain,fear and sorrow all over again and again.My friend I have the greatest respect for you.Thank you brother, when the demons come for you in the night as I know they will remember we have your six you’re not alone.
Semper fi
The comments here have been more cathartic than writing the book. I started writing the book for my I.T. guy, then for
me, and now for the guys like you on here. Thank you for the comments that help to keep me going and yes, make me now well
aware that I am a long way from being alone. Thank you, from somewhere pretty deep.
Semper fi,
Jim
Damn. Just about the time I thought you caught a break Murphy showed up and flushed the toilet on you – again.
With all of the artillery, sandy runs and even a B-52 strike I can’t help but to wonder about what is going on at the higher level of command. Good Grief!
The higher levels of command thought sending stuff to help was what they were required to do.
Not to be there or send anybody else. They were like rich parents of kids who get no attention but showered
with all the toys. Funny comparison I know but that’s what I thought when I was there. Where the hell was everybody?
Semper fi,
Jim
You just can’t get out of the deep shit no matter what. A Shaw. Don’t mean nuthin. Keep stomping.
Thanks JT, as usual. The A Shau was that sort of place and nobody, when I got there, wanted to get stuck down in that valley
no matter what the mission…and I don’t care what the guys in the rear with the gear say about it. They wouldn’t come. They didn’t come. I understand. I might not have gone either, if I’d known or had any choice at all.
Thanks for the comment, of course, and the compliment in the last two words…
Semper fi,
Jim
You just can’t get out of the deep shit no matter what. A Shaw. Don’t mean nuthin.
No, to much fire, Fusner said. When did Fusner come back to you??
Maybe Tex said this.
Thanks JT, for that. It was Tex, of course and thanks to you I got it right upon edit.
Where the hell did Fusner come from. He’s still over at the burning six-by!
Semper fi,
Jim
Yes, exactly JT. Not done yet, by a long shot. It was one helluva tough place.
the Army had its ass handed to it before we got there and the French had fallen unit after
unit into that valley of death. The animals and the insects and even the vegetation…
Shit.
Semper fi,
Jim
O…M…G….; Deep Doo-doo, back to bad news on top of bad news. What a roller coaster of events.
So many questions…need the next episode even faster than you and your Marines need resupplied and reinforced.
May God be with you…back in the next episode–AND while you are writing and reliving these horrid moments. I am sure it isn’t easy, but it is a story you are telling that needs told. Praying for you for strength…
The writing is not as hard at times…but at other times, it is damned tough.
Plus, real life goes on here in my real life here…and real life is no friend to getting and taking
the time and right attitude to write a work of such emotional depth.
Thanks for what you wrote here about that, and for writing here at all…
Semper fi,
Jim
WOW you pick a hell of a time to stop!!
Well, I didn’t really pick it. Just ran out of writing room. I stop after eight pages
wherever I am or I will just run on. I need to breathe a bit and then get back at it to be fresh and
in the moment, as they say today. Back in the moment…so to speak.
Thanks Harold, for writing what you think on here…
Semper fi,
Jim
Sorry you were ill, but happy you are back. Be advised, this old guy missed his fix of your writing and the comments from others. Bet you never thought your words would have such impact, did you.
When I noticed about 5 days had passed since the last segment, I was worried you might have had a serious relapse of PTSD, and relieved to know it was a bug of some kind you have now put behind you.
Anyway, You are back. All of us here in cyber-land are glad to have you back, and that’s what matters.
So “write-on.”
thank you Ed. Yes, it was a passing respiratory thing. My PTSD is ever present and does not go away or
change in any form I can discover. Years ago I was plagued by demons and the demons are still there but they grow old with me.
We are both slowing a bit. Thanks for being glad I’m ‘back’ with the story and I promise a segment pretty damned quick.
Semper fi,
Jim
If anyone had ever thought Strauss could run out of intensity and words binding you to the story, he is a fool. So, maybe one of my favorites so far. Don’t worry bout Gunney, he is just trying to get his own ass over the Song. If you succeeded once you will again is his secret want. We all wait most anxiously LT. Want to see the boy Fusner back safely across all that concrete. Poppa Joe
Thanks Poppa, for the kind compliment. Just laying it down, as best as I can.
Glad you are enjoying it, of course and glad you are writing about it on here, as well.
Thanks, my friend,
Semper fi, my brother…
Jim
Walking in Junior’s skin for 15 days. Lots of adrenaline with highs and lows. Never know what to expect. Great writing but knowing you lived it makes it even scarier. Army Vet 68-71 but no CIB. Don’t want to take anyone’s honor.
Yes, Junior. When people around here read that story, if they find it believable at all,
do I really want them to think about the fact that Junior is right in among them, like
a black Mamba dressed up like a garter snake. I am much more the garter thing these days, but they
won’t necessarily believe that. Thanks for writing on here and the compliment inherent in your words…
Semper fi,
Jim
I know you are gonna stop and answer these comments but I just can’t help myself. I take comfort in knowing Junior is in the shadow. He is a man I would have followed with conviction that we were gittin it right.. I might be wrong but I think Jurgins would have shot Tex if he disrespected Junior. When it gets right down to the nut cuttin I would rather be chummin with the Juniors and monsters than any one. Fact is Juniors and monsters are the only ones I have any respect for. They are not bad. They will god damn sure bring you back.
Survival is not something of macho or attitude. It’s a cold serpent of moving sinuous intellect and
motivation. To get through so many situations of huge danger on all sides takes a knife-edged through process
that rules in emotion as a working tool except for that part called fear, the big emotion. That has to be danced with
and about, like working hard with a tango partner wherein you either follow the lead or you die, right there and right then
on that dance floor of life…
Semper fi,
Jim
Did it seem that command lost touch with you out there? Another young Marine officer wrote about his experience of a brigade forgetting his platoon, part of a company that went into Laos. The LT. would up losing 35 pounds due to non-resupply due to bad weather. Had 5 C-rations in 14 days. His troops had it just as bad. The company commander was relieved for cowardice for not attacking a strong position while low on supplies and also a decimated company. The LT had no water except for a seep which took 5 minutes to fill his canteen and he had 17 men left in his platoon. Finally weather lifted and FB Cunningham, had him in sight and sent a chopper with resupply. The battalion had already written its after action report while the platoon was still out in the field. Wish I could remember his name and outfit.
After action reports in the Nam were many times ‘before action’ reports or simply made up by guys in the
rear with the gear. I do recall getting so many calls over the radio for details, almost all related to enemy
KIA and WIA information. They always wanted prisoners but my company did not take prisoners.
We were not lost out there but they sure as hell did not want to bring us back in or send reinforcements out.
Semper fi,
Jim
Eight days between chapters seemed at eternity. But it didn’t take more than two sentences to raise the anxiety level back to defcon 2.
SSgt. You are counting. Son of a bitch. I caught a cold and was down for a few.
Back up now and there ain’t gonna be no eight day shit this time…
Thanks for wanting more and wanting it faster.
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
“back of the Ontos, and stacked then(m) next to one another”
You left me hanging on the edge of my chair with this episode. I’m sitting here trying to figure out what happens next!
The blessed Ontos and the non-combat engineer, soon to be battle-tested fake Marine
Officer, Tex. Pretty bizarre shit, indeed. Hope you like the way things are going.
Not always logical, I know. It was a really weird time in that valley…
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim, Here is a typo. Glad to help. Dave.
If the gun got hot (they) there was always the possibility of the thing ‘cooking off’ rounds from a red hot chamber, => (they) is extra
Thanks and corrected, Dave
Semper fi,
Jim
And the beat goes on. Going to be a mad minute . Give them hell LT.
Thank you Fred, just like in the song…”drums keeping pounding a rhythm to my brain.”
Thanks for that comment and for the support in your words on here…
Semper fi,
Jim
Glad to see you post again had wondered if something had happened to you. Lot of nasty bugs out there. Found a few typos as I consumed this chapter.
I was Junior, the company commander. I climbed to my knees. I didn’t know how long I’d been out, but out I had certainly been (out). Need to delete (out)
I could hear the faint whine of the (bit) Pratt and Whitney engines of the Skyraiders flying at a distance, punctuated by rapid short roars of their twenty millimeter guns. (big)
Thanks again Pete,
Chapters are getting a bit tense.
So noted your observations and corrected
Semper fi
Jim
Junior, you got some balls!!!! I am excited for the next for the next chapter. I know you are going to kick some ass, as opposed to using other terminology. I was Army, but loved the Marines attitude!.
Yes, most of the Army guys loved us, and showered us with affection, care and stuff. Without the Army, quietly
backing our play so many times, the Marines would have had it even tougher, by far.
Semper fi,
Jim
As you say,chapters are getting a bit tense.Cant’t wait for next one . Semper fi
Thanks Roger. “Are getting a bit tense?” What the hell were they before? My humor.
Thanks for liking the story and writing your version of a compliment here.
Love it.
Semper fi,
Jim
Well Jim…you’ve done it again…you’ve dangled us over the edge of the cliff and left us hanging…Excellent work again!!!
There is so much going on at one time, it’s hard to fathom, but as I have said before, there is no way you can make shit like this up…you just have to have been there…Gunny is back to his old CYA self again and Fusner is still looking out for you, even though he was ordered away, and the Sandys are still there to save the day…hopefully…and you, sir, were the only real leadership that they had…and Gunny’s SOP of taking credit and putting blame…typical grizzled lifer stuff…reminds me of the old coach’s adage…when you win the team played great, when you lose the coach is an idiot…again, you sir, are an excellent story teller…making our hearts pound and pulling our pucker strings all the way up…I anxiously await the outcome…Tex included…
Believe it or not Mark, I don’t write the story in segments intending to leave anything hanging! I try to stop at about eight pages or a bit more
wherever that happens to be. In the last segment, if I was to go on about the Browning I fired, not unlike Audie Murphy, but without the advancing
infantry coming at me (and he had a .50, which was much more destructive), I’d have had to add like three more pages before I could close it off
until the next segment. So, I pulled the rigger and then stopped until the next segment. Just worked that way.
Thanks for liking the story and following so closely…I am on the next segment this night…
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim,
I don’t think it would matter much where you “break” the story…there is so much going on at one time it would be an edge of your seat type of break anyway…and I still think the telling of the story and it’s “truth” are soul cleansing to many on here…it helps validate what was done there…and gives us back a certain measure of the respect that was lost back then…keep up the good work…and glad you are feeling better…
Maybe you are right Mark. I’m never sure when I’m writing along. I just a feeling and then stop where
I am. I don’t fashion endings for the segments and I don’t set up things for the next segment. It’s not like
writing true fiction where you knit it all together like a braided mass. It’s following a very linear story line
with all sorts of tendrils dangling and then melding into that line of movement and thought…
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim, use smaller fonts so you can get more on the eight pages, lol.
Clever. We are old. I can’t work with smaller fonts. Hell, I usually use Times New Roman just to see the stuff set at 16!
Semper fi,
Jim
Know what you mean about getting old, were we lucky or not?
You can use larger fonts until finished, then highlight all of the text and choose a smaller size, works great! Most text range from 9 to 12 on internet and all can be easily changed to the size needed by the viewers, with little or no problems.
Anymore alibis there old timer?
I’m thinking…which takes a while…
Semper fi,
Jim
I’ve been following your trail since day 8, I had to return to day one for a better vantaged view. Reread the first ten days again when I got the book from Amazon. Really glad I did, as I was able to find lots of things I’d missed, or simply misunderstood in every chapter I had already read several times.
This was the best chapter I have yet read, and I’m going to enjoy it again as soon as I’m done writing you. Thank you for sharing your soul, I was not able to serve, and I want to thank you and all those that served in that war. May God bless you all.
Thanks a lot Patrick. Your reading, and that of the others on here, and your writing on here, keeps me pretty damned sharp and on my toes.
Anything I get wrong is brought to my attention right here and I cannot tell you how that helps. I get to edit stuff because the real critics
will come in later and they will be merciless and harsh….I am certain. This is not normal set of books about war. There will be plenty of Marine Corps and other military
fans that are not going to like it. Thanks for writing on here about stuff that I know comes straight from your heart…
Semper fi,
Jim
The Skyraider actually had Wright R3350 radials, not P&W. Keep up the great work. A riveting tale.
You are correct. I never saw one in real life. In fact, I’ve never seen one in real life to this day.
My memory was in error there. In truth, I don’t know much about the difference among airplane builders.
So many came and went. Thanks for pointing that out.
Semper fi,
Jim
Seems to me you were unfortunate enough to have seen them in the real shit, which is an order of magnitude larger than real life. My real life pales in comparison. Once again, love the story.
Tim
Unknowingly, and that’s a gift from God, you have lived your life without a ‘greater magnitude’ you might experience
if you survived real combat. You sleep through the night. You don’t avoid crowds and you don’t have to avoid booze or drugs
and you don’t have to conquer road rage or really responding to any external threat without apply too much of a ‘solution.’
Thanks for the comment about your own life and you did use the word unfortunate….and I want to make sure you know how fortunate you’ve been
and not think of -it as ‘paling’ in comparison…
Semper fi,
Jim
Lots of questions. No scout team visible at the truck? Gunnys jockeys in a bunch,again? Seems like for all you’ve done, you end up all alone on your island. Or cave. Semper Fi Jim!
The scout team was hidden by the heavy jungle brush between the road and the partially overgrown
airport tarmac. I was in the cave alone where they’d left me to finally rest. Tex was trying to
run the show while I slept. The Gunny could never be predicted…
Semper fi,
Jim
Thank you sir, for the latest installment of the personal experiences you’re sharing.
I was in from 92-96, and although I can attest to the homesickness and mind-numbing boredom of “hurry up and wait” deployments, I never saw a second of combat. I am amazed with each installment you publish how different your experiences in the Corps differed from the experiences of myself and my friends. What you describe is a completely different Corps than the one I knew. Thanks for sharing your experiences. They remind an aging POG like myself how good we had it.
Semper Fi
I went to war with Steve Pfarrer, another Marine Lieutenant. His wife and my wife lived together in S.F.
not far from Haight and Asbury near Golden Gate Park. Steve said that he never saw a round fired in combat
and never fought at all, and he was further north along the coast than I was. I never know whether to believe
him or not. I do now. There were so many wars inside the big one and our memories are not the same, nor our feelings, dreams, or
recovering aspirations. Thanks for writing on here about that and your own service.
Semper fi,
Jim
Well, you did it again! “On a wing and a prayer,” I whispered, and pulled the trigger. SUBMIT A COMMENT You get us so deep into the story! And why is it the “breaks” you seem to catch are like broken bones? Maybe you should wish for no luck at all, it might be healthier. I can’t wait for the next segment but don’t want to know. The telling has to hurt, hopefully the good you are doing balances in some way. Keep on keepin on.
I don’t know Walt. I cannot gauge effects except by what is written here.
A New York publisher is thinking about picking up the series but I’m not sure
it isn’t too much for them.
My speckled background around the world, back home and with drinking, drugs
and just about every other prevarication I tried to buffer myself with
do not play well with the regular folks of this country.
Probably more acceptable in other parts of the world were the sort of Pilgrim/Calivinism
right and wrong thing isn’t so powerfully applied, might be a better market.
Unknown, although I’ll certainly keep you posted.
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim, your writing attracts not because of the correctness of writing technique, but because the brutal truth and drama is overpowering. I never see the errors and I count the days to the next installment. The book will become a reference point for future combat writers. Just keep going full frontal with the story and let the chips fall where they may; that is what the editor is getting paid for.
Siempre Fi
I hope that future combat writers will steer away from the mythology that gets company grade officers
and non-coms killed off real quick if they don’t know what the hell is really going on.
I don’t know about the wars of today but I have come to believe, after reading so much in comments on here,
that my experience out in the shit was not as different as I thought.
Maybe more action because of where and when I was, but the same in many other dangerous and frightful ways.
Thanks for your comment and the compliment in it…
Semper fi,
Jim
Jeez, Jim– Your “speckled background” doesn’t mean squat. Hell, they published Hunter Thompson, didn’t they? A publisher would be a fool not to jump on this, and someone will be a fool if they don’t make a movie out of it.
S/f. Steve
Steve, thank you! I meant with regular folks, not roadies like you. Regular people, if you spend too much time with them letting them
know about what is ‘out there,’ want a bit of distance…like from the earth to the moon, with the reality you might discuss…
The publishing business, like Hollywood, is mostly about the owners and producers publishing stuff by their families and friends. It’s
not open to good material, per se. Otherwise you’d watch much more T.V. and find decent books at the grocery store. So, expectations in that area are necessarily
low…but that’s okay. I’m not writing the series for that, anyway. Thank you for the sentiment and the great compliment. You guys….
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim, The best part about telling this story is that you get to show folks another side of our little war…things and places that just don’t exist anywhere else..the good part is the feed back, the validation to your work, and everything that has led to it finally happening…it is a joy to read it and for most it is an adventure in absentia..a thrilling, exhausting, terrifying ride…one we used to call an “E” ticket ride..remember? Ya gotta be an old fart to remember those rides…. on the other hand…
A lot of the readers here know the toll this is exacting…the remembering, over and over and over…the small details, long forgotten, that suddenly re surface out of nowhere, the “holy shit’, I forgot about that…sometimes, good, sometimes bad, but now it’s put into the weave…and the story flows… One can only hope that when it is done…that it serves its purpose, you have finally brought all those memories out from behind the rusty doors in the back of the brain…they are all out there now…you don’t have to hide them, or protect them anymore……those of us sharing this journey with you now are ready to shoulder some of that load…When it’s done…it will be such a relief….
Ya Done Good “LT”….Semper Fi
Thanks Larry, I am intent upon pursuing the story all the way through, and then what happened after.
Although so many of the combat vets on here identify with much of what happened I have come to think
the wild day by day and night by night circumstances of what happened to the company and me were fairly
uncommon. I did not start out to be writing an adventure story, only the story. But, it sure was a wilder
ride than I have sometimes thought. Thanks for your support Larry, and your own fine writing on here…
Semper fi,
Jim