I’d made it across the river, even after struggling to drag Barnes to the bank. I was dressed back out and had my gear and my .45, none of which was in bad shape. My self-inventory had been done before the big fifty-caliber had opened up again. My team, positioned flat on the mud between the rushing water and the jungle, consisted of Zippo, Fusner, Nguyen, Barnes and Pilson. I held both radio microphones, the air headset in one hand and the PRICK 25 handset in the other, as I tried to come to terms with Jurgens stuck out at the tank, invisible from our position, but screaming my name every few seconds.
I tried to figure out the beaten zone the .50 Cal was laying down up and down the river, and along the far bank. Nobody from the company was going to be able to cross the river until something was done. I noted that no great spouts of water were spewing up from the near side of the river. In fact, none had ricocheted off the armor of the tank, not that I could tell through my damaged ears very well, anyway.
The Skyraiders were up above us, but night was coming on fast.
Whatever we did was going to have to be done quickly or my little patrol was going to be left on one side of the river to spend the night without any kind of support or even a machine gun. My hands shook again, as I contemplated the fact that that there was no real way to get back to the other side of the raging river without abandoning my Marines and all my equipment. Even if I did that I’d end up somewhere way down the river without boots or anything else. Things were getting grimmer by the minute.
“No tracers from the fifty,” I murmured to Fusner. “Why no tracers?”
“Too close,” Zippo said. “Like before.”
“How close?” I asked, not having much of any experience with the heavy machine gun, except in the classroom.
“Tracer ignition is probably a couple of hundred meters,” Barnes piped in. “I fired the quad fifty back at An Hoa, and those things didn’t ignite for quite a ways from the ends of the barrels.”
“Smart,” I whispered, more to myself than my team.
The crew of the fifty, torn apart by previous air strikes, was keeping the gun close enough to do serious or terminal damage, and not far enough for the tracers to ignite. Either that or they’d laboriously removed all the tracers from their belts and were aiming by adjusting off the beaten zone alone. That would be ineffective at night, though. There’d be no going after the gun by a direct infantry attack though, unless Jurgens made it over with the full platoon. Without bloopers, LAWs or even the dependable M-60s, my scout team couldn’t take the chance of entering and gaining some protection in the jungle undergrowth to organize an attack. Additionally, it was only our exposed position on the bank that allowed Cowboy and Hobo to know where we were, and for the rest of the company to drop in a base of fire without it taking us out with it.
I keyed the command handset and asked for the six actual, since my own title as company commander was a bit less than honorary.
The Gunny came on. “What you got yourself into this time, Junior?” he asked, although I knew he was in a position to see the entire landscape of ongoing events.
“You gonna leave Jurgens out there to dangle?” he added.
“The fifty can’t depress,” I replied. “They’ve got it up there behind us on the hill to our west and downriver a bit. It can only cover half the river. So far Jurgens isn’t in much danger, unless he drowns with a full mouth of water from all his yelling.”
“They can hit us over here but they’re not firing this way yet,” the Gunny responded. “What about the Sandys?”
“Can’t see where the rounds are coming from to guide them in. If you guys can, then lay some 16 tracers in there and Cowboy will have a target. The NVA’s not shooting at the company because they’re busy keeping us from crossing.”
Neither of us was using the word “over” to end our communications, which meant it took longer to wait to see if the other person was done, but the informality seemed to be a tradition in the area of operations I’d ended up in.
“Jurgens?” the Gunny asked. He was asking me if I was I going to leave Jurgens out there to be chewed up by the enemy, I knew.
Was I going to leave him there to his own devices to rescue himself? The Gunny was asking me if I was going to get rid of my Jurgens problem by simply letting the scene play out how it likely would, without some kind of intervention.
“Junior,” I heard, coming from out over the water. Jurgen’s voice was growing hoarse, and a plaintive quality have come into it. The longer he stayed out there the more likely it was that something would float downriver, discover his presence. and go for him in spite of the heavy current. The beating metronome of metal on metal being played out by the trapped tankers inside the armored body of the upside down vehicle he was pressed into couldn’t be reassuring, either. There was nothing the company could do on the other side to help Jurgens. None of the rest of the Marines in his platoon had made any attempt to come down the rope after their platoon commander and no one could fault them for that.
“It’s not that kind of war,” I whispered, not realizing I’d keyed the microphone.
“No, it’s not,” the Gunny said. “It’s your call. We can lay down some fire on where we think that fifty shit’s coming from but there’s nothing we can do for Jurgens. That’s on you.”
“Big of you,” I said, my tone bitter, knowing that the Gunny was setting up the scene for Jurgens getting dead and my being assigned the blame. As if the members of First Platoon had not been aching to take me out from the beginning, and no doubt especially following the failure of three of their number to finish me off earlier.
“Part the waters and pull Jurgens out of there, Junior,” the Gunny came right back, actually seeming to express a note of care and concern in his own tone.
“Get him the hell out of that mess. Nobody else can…and that’s what I meant, God damn it.”
I felt better with him adding that, as I gave the command net microphone back to Fusner. I put the air radio headset on. I knew the Gunny sincerely wanted Jurgens saved, as unlikely as that eventuality was becoming, moment by moment. If the NVA got the big gun moved forward at all, then it would be able to depress the few inches it needed to spray the entire river, instead of just the east side. The tank would protect the sergeant for now, but eventually the giant bullets raining down all around him would find an opening. It took only the slightest of fragments of one of those huge fast-moving bullets to mangle and kill a man.
“Cowboy,” I said, into the mic.
“Five by Five,” Jacko replied, indicating my signal to him was very clear.
“Got a guy out there stuck at the tank,” I told him, no longer worried about anyone overhearing the radio transmission since the enemy could see Jurgens as well as we could. “The Gunny’s going to have the company open up with some tracers into the fifty-caliber base of fire. We need suppression if you can manage it so I can get the sergeant out of there.”
“Same asshole that holed Hobo’s ride?” Jacko asked.
“No doubt,” I responded, wondering what difference it made, but slowly coming around to the idea that all the men in combat were very superstitious, and hence their need for plan and mission names, not to mention misplaced vendettas against things instead of living beings.
My Skyraider guys hated the gun itself without thought of the ever-changing and invisible enemy behind it.
“When you requesting service, Flash?” Cowboy himself asked.
I thought about how to transmit the time. Actually, there was little to be done. I’d use Barnes to help me get the extra rope over to the tank, pull Jurgens loose and then have my remaining Marines quickly pull all three of us onto the bank and safety. I noted that Jurgens had stopped yelling for help. I was of mixed feelings about whether I was happy or sad that he’d shut up. If he’d been hit then he was dead and one more problem was gone, although I knew deep down that I’d almost irrationally mourn his passing. The Marines in the company were all I had in my new world and I knew deep down that my raggedly torn emotional center was trying to make the best of a rotten situation. The Marines, no matter how fucked up, were all I had, except my letters home.
Jurgens screamed, even though the fifty had stopped firing.
“Shit,” I said.
“That’s not a time,” Cowboy replied.
I’d been pushing on the transmit key again, I realized. Was I losing it I wondered, or was I just so overtired I’d never catch up on sleep again for the rest of my short life?
I couldn’t hear the Skyraiders, but I knew they were up there somewhere. How far away? Also, the Gunny hadn’t opened up on at the base of the fifty. Would he wait until the big lumbering planes were audible or visible to do what he’d promised?
Jurgens screamed again. It was a blood-curdling scream. I wondered if he was hit after all. I felt down for my remaining morphine packets in my right thigh pocket. The bump of their presence gave me some comfort, but not much.
“Fuck it, Cowboy,” I said into the headset, “we need you yesterday.”
“On me,” I said to my team, tossing down the headset. They surrounded me in seconds, all of us staying as flat as possible on the hard muddy sand.
“We’re going up river a few hundred yards from where the tank is,” I said. “Barnes and I will swim out, and then tread water out there until the current drags us all the way down to the tank with the rope. The rest of you hold the other end of the line. When we grab Jurgens you guys pull us in. Simple.”
Jurgens screamed again.
“Why’s he screaming?” Fusner asked.
I didn’t answer. It didn’t matter. Jurgens was at the tank. Barnes and I were going, and whatever was left of the sergeant was coming back to the bank with us.
“Dump your gear,” I ordered, “but we are all staying in full utilities this time. Stay close to the very edge of the jungle but don’t go in and don’t tie the rope to anything. You may have to ease on down the bank to get us across once we’ve got him. Fusner you’re commo, but keep low with the rest. Stay up on the air net.”
My team got up from their stomachs long enough to fumble at unstrapping their packs and belts. I heard the Skyraiders at the same time the company opened fire. The Gunny was as good as his word. The tracers came screaming across the river, igniting about sixty yards from the barrels of the Marines laying along the berm perimeter, but looking like they were created in mid-air half way across the water.
“Move,” I said, jumping to my own feet, scooping up the half-coiled rope and racing upriver. Barnes stayed with me stride for stride. I looked over at the tank as we came abreast of it and almost stopped in my tracks. Jurgens was huddled on the upriver side of the tank, looking like he was trying to cram his body between the tracks and upside down fender. Just beyond him a big dark object looked like it was trying to do the same thing, at the opposite end.
“Holy shit,” Barnes hissed, “Jurgens’s gonna be eaten by a crocodile.”
I couldn’t believe my ears or my eyes. My eyes hadn’t seen the reality of the reptile until Barnes said the word, but there was no doubt. In my brief passing view as we ran past it didn’t look to me like the crocodile wanted any more to do with Jurgens than he wanted it to.
I stopped Barnes about a hundred and fifty yards further up the bank. The rest of the team was catching up. Fusner came last, following Pilson, who’d left his radio downriver.
I swept the rope up over my left shoulder. I wanted to keep my right hand ready with the .45, even though the mud, sand and roiled water made it unlikely the normally dependable weapon would fire. Maybe one shot, I thought, but one shot might be enough. I looked at Barnes and got ready to enter the river. There was no hesitation in the Marine. His eyes were big and round. He looked excited to be attempting the rescue, and his look gave me more confidence.
“You afraid of him, Junior?” he asked me, in a voice too low for the rest of the team to hear.
“Which one?” I asked back.
Barnes smiled and I smiled back. The kid had sand, as the Gunny would say, and his attitude gave me some, as well.
“You got the rope,” he said like he was leading the operation. “I go first with my 16. I got twenty rounds of hot tracer. You follow. I take the crocodile and you take my commander.”
I didn’t miss the slight of him saying Jurgens was his commander, but I wasn’t going to say anything to change what was going down. The kid had grit and I was going with it. I took a big loop of rope and ran it around Barnes’ midriff. I tied it off with a granny knot. Lousy knot but it was quick and would hold. It’d just play hell getting out later. Barnes didn’t wait for me to say anything. He eased out into the water, holding his 16 at present arms across his chest. Using some sort of frog kick he began slowly moving out until the current caught him. The fast-moving water grabbed his body, then the rope, and then me. We went downriver fast, Barnes constantly and perfectly moving into the very center of the rapids. The tank came up in what seemed like seconds.
Barnes hit the tank, not two feet from where Jurgens cowered, wedged between the tracks, his upturned facial expression looking like he was viewing the returned Jesus Christ.
“You came,” he gasped out, beginning to work his way out of the tracks while I grabbed hold of a sprocket and hung on.
“Of course I came,” Barnes replied, before using the current and his powerful leg stroke to push him right onto the bottom of the tank. He pulled on the rope but I hung on for dear life. I wasn’t tied to the rope at all, only holding on so I could pull it away from me once we got Jurgens secure.
I looked down into Jurgen’s eyes. I knew he’d been talking to me and not Barnes about coming to get him. I nodded and reached out a hand to pull him to me. Barnes stood up on the bottom of the tank. I jerked my head up, wondering what he was doing. He was pointing his M-16 down into the water at the other end of the tank.
“That’s all for you, bucko,” Barnes said, before his torso dissolved in a blown red cloud of mist and chunky bits, as a single round from the 50 found his spine and blew out his chest…
The big fifty’s continuous fire followed instantly, turning the water around Jurgens and me into a spray-covered mess.
The noise was awful. The company’s 16s, being so close and shooting over us, were bad, but the fifty was close enough to gout out giant blasts of rapid repetitive explosions that were much more ear-shattering. I didn’t hear the Skyraiders come in. I saw them. I realized that they had to be less than ten feet above the water as they went over us. In the thick of the attack either Cowboy or Hobo waved down with left hand extended. I couldn’t remember later which plane it had been. I did hear their twenty-millimeter cannons open up, and then the explosions of big bombs not far away.
I looked beyond Jurgens at the crocodile. It lay with its side against the tank’s track. I looked into its unblinking dark eyes. I couldn’t get any message but I had a deep-seated feeling that the animal wanted nothing to do with us. I pulled on the rope hesitantly.
“I’ll cut him loose,” Jurgens said, moving toward the boy’s body, half on, and what passed for the other half, off the side of the tank.
“No,” I said, the word coming out of me automatically. “He goes with us.”
“He’s dead weight and we’re in deep shit, if you haven’t noticed,” Jurgens replied.
“I came for you,” I said, my hand down under the water, gripping and unsnapping my Colt .45. “He’s a Marine, and he came for you too. He stays with us.”
The A-1 Skyraiders passed on down the valley and there was silence, as the company had stopped firing when they flew in. Only the water rushed, gurgled, and splashed over parts of the tank making plenty of noise as it curved around it.
“Fine, Fucking “A” fine,” Jurgens said, “whatever you say, Junior.”
I read his tone. The old Jurgens was back, not the crying and screaming Jurgens, who’d been alone in the middle of a rushing river with a fifty shooting at him and a giant croc for company. The man had an act, I realized. Whether that act was backed by the sand Barnes had shown was still an unknown to me.
The fifty opened up again. Both Jurgens and I crouched low in the passing water, only the area from the top of our mouths to the tops of our heads above water. The fifty caliber rounds were impacting the river all around us. They’d moved the big gun in order to depress and reach our position. Jurgens and I were trapped. My team could pull us across, but they’d be pulling three riddled bodies instead of just one.
“Great,” Jurgens said when the fifty stopped firing for a few seconds. “Just fucking great. How in hell are you going to get us out of this one, dead weight or no dead weight?” he asked.
I tried to think about what could be done. I looked over at the staring crock, and then at Barnes’ face, hanging over the side of the tank. His head wagged lightly with occasional brushes with the current below. His head tilted slightly and I saw that a smile was on his face. He’d smiled down to view the croc before he was about to kill it. The smile was still there.
“What’s the name of this plan, Junior?” Jurgens asked, “The plan to get us the hell out of here?”
I stared up, the image of the boy standing fiercely up on top of the tank with his 16 at the ready position.
I thought of an old Jimmy Cagney movie called White Heat I’d seen many years before.
“Top of the World, Ma,” I said.
“Top of the World?” Jurgens repeated, without the “ma” on the end.
Just giving Jurgens a name caused his voice to marginally change. There was just a hint of hope in it, for the first time.
“No, it’s ‘Top of the World, Ma,” I corrected, knowing the “ma” part would blow right by him. He could think about that instead of the simple fact that it would soon become apparent that I didn’t have a clue as to how to save our asses from certain death in the middle of what was fast becoming the river of death running down inside the valley of death.
<<<<<< Beginning | Next Chapter >>>>>>
I was Navy and in the Red Sea 64-66. We steamed with a carrier. We sent a lot of flying projectiles towards Nam. I sat in my air conditioned office and watched the Pantoms take off and landing on the carrier. Now I know what they were doing. I was there but lucky and somewhat safe on my 721 foot ship. God bless you guys. My brother…..West Point class of 60. Two tours Nam….7th special forces. 101st Airborne Ranger. Was not so lucky but he made it with much difficulty. I’m enjoying your book and reading all comments.
Thanks Jay, I notice you are writing some comments as well!!! Thank you!
Semper fi,
Jim
I am a Iraq and Afghanistan Combat Vet. I served with 1/5 as a 0311/8541. Your book is brining back so much emotion for me I can’t put it down! When I just read about Barnes my heart fell to my stomach.
Thank you Joe for that compliment, although I have no intention to cause pain.
There are special things that happened to you that changed you, and me, and others on here too,
that regular citizens cannot seem to help us with. I don’t know why. I guess I am trying to help
in my rather different and bizarre way. We’ll see how I do over time.
thanks for being here and making that comment…
Semper fi,
Jim
Happy Birthday LT.
Thank you Ron, much appreciate the comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
What an exciting installment James. I’ve read and researched the war in Vietnam quite a lot and your account of the crocs is the first I’ve ever heard. I didn’t realize there were crocs in Vietnam, and especially inland. I guess I always thought of them being further south. Of course, I never realized that there were so many types of crocodiles either.
Sorry you lost Barnes. He sounded like a good man.
Daniel
Trust me, the crocodiles were there, although hey avoided human contact for the most part.
But the murky waters of the rivers and estuaries could be extremely treacherous. Thanks for the
compliment and the support Daniel…
Semper fi,
Jim
Don’t let naysayers and negative reviews on Amazon detract from your good work or get you down in the dumps. A lot of stuff goes on that is diff from what has been so publicized about the war.
I had a buddy who was an M-60 gunner in a Cav unit near the Cambodian boarder. He tells me that they seldom seen a chopper. Hard to believe but a lot of things happen differently than what we would expect.
As for the statements about not using .50 cals on troops??? If that’s not allowed, why do they have .50 caliber sniper rifles?
Maintain your good work!
Daniel
The .50 has been used on personnel ever since it was invented and brought online.
I agree and I have not responded negatively to the trolls. There will be plenty more.
I am not writing the kind of stuff that is going to go down well with man people who have had
no clue or who have a vested interest in the old status quo remaining…when it comes to what really
happend out there in the field. Thanks for the comment and the support.
Semper fi
Jim
The Boy is an amazing read.
Thank you very much P. I wrote the entire novel in an African prison. All I had was a taped lightbulb with a small hole in it (like my flashlight
in Thirty Days). Every night I wrote away and then sent the next six pages off the next day in the mail. I had no research tools so I had only my
anthropology background to use. When I ran out of stationary I took my letters from home and friends, turned the envelopes inside out and used that
for my correspondence. I have all those originals and like to think they might add to the story if it should ever become famous! And try to stay in stamps while in side a foreign prison! Talk about favors. And then an African American mail corridor that actually worked amazingly well. Out of sixty segments I only lost two.
There, more history to that novel than you might want to know. I wrote the book and the series about honor, and how honor is something we develop inside us because the rest of the planet isn’t going to help you define it at all, instill it or allow it to continue if that planet can help it. Once you have built honor inside yourself, however, you can never lose it unless you so choose.
Semper fi,
Jim
Researching .50 cal ammo, stumbled across this:
The .50 caliber machinegun can be used against enemy military equipment, but not personnel. So be sure to aim your .50 caliber machinegun at the enemy soldier’s belt buckle.
Where would anyone get the idea that the .50 could not be used against personnel…
or is that part of the humor?
The belt buckle part I get. I just had my first 3 star comment on Amazon
and the “Pen Knife” critic said basically that the story wasn’t technically accurate or believable.
This, no doubt, from someone who did not serve and has no clue…but then
I expected a good measure of that.
Maybe the guy believes there was some sort of rule about the use of the .50 too!
Semper fi,
Jim
Your comment about the .50 Cal report is somewhat “Tongue and Cheek”, correct, Steve?
Chuck, I was looking for confirmation of my uneducated memory of firing a .50 cal in Vietnam. I was a 1345 heavy junk, land clearing mostly. We only worked in daylight. In the evening the tankers, we always had three at ten, two and six behind our berm, would let us shoot their .50 cals. That round was more efficient at knocking down trees than our dozers.
It was my understanding that the .50 cal round exploded upon contact because it had another explosive inside it. I was simply trying to educate myself and stumbled over this article with this statement in it. I will search again, it may be part of the Geneva Convention.
Might be post Vietnam agreements.
Might be revealing more uneducated thoughts here also, but I think the rules of using Napalm today are more restrictive than they were in Vietnam.
I am not savvy enough to paste links.
To my knowledge Steve, there were no explosives in .50 bullets of the time. I don’t know what they’ve come up with
since. At close range, as in my story and in your own live firing, the velocity, inertia and energy delivered on target
is so great that the effects are much like having explosives in the shell. Seven tons of energy has to go somewhere if the bullet
stops quickly. The Geneva Conventions, by the way, work most impressively back home.
Semper fi,
Jim
You know, what people are missing by not following your story part by part is reading the comments of other veterans reacting to your writings and your response to their comments and questions. To someone like me that wasn’t there, these comments and responses are very educational.
Thanks for sharing your experiences with us.
The comments have become a kind of different thing.
Sort of the reality running parallel with the story with interjections of minute fact
and consideration of what things really were like…
and all improved and substantiated by other guys who were there, many in the thick of it too.
Interesting stuff for me to read too, and also to respond to.
This is comment number 6725 from the start back last October.
Thanks for brining the story back to life,
in a different sort of ‘life all of its own,’ kind of thing too hard to try to explain.
Semper fi,
Jim
Thanks James the story must be told it is good to get it out after keeping it in for all these years. My hart goes out for you and all the other brothers and friends that were lost in Nam. Job will done Brother.
Thank you so much Fred. I am keeping at it, segment by segment, and it’s coming along mostly smooth
and fine with a few rocky parts here and there…
I keep going with a little help from my friends….
on here…
like you…
Semper fi,
Jim
When will the next two segments of the book come out? Bought the first one on Books a Million. Great reading. Served in the army back in the first Gulf War. Thanks for everything you and everyone else did.
Thank Bill, for picking up the book. The second is targeted for the 1st of August. The first time out of the
chute we were three weeks late from prediction. Hope we are better now…
Thanks for the reading and the compliment of your wanting more…
Semper fi,
Jim
Thanks for your series, your writing is brings people of my generation up close to the hell that was the Vietnam war! I would like to say to you and every vet on this site THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE!
And thank you for the nature of your thanks. Sometimes that phrase is used to smile, shake hands and then quickly move on…but I don’t get that
from you Brett. Thank you and thank you for the compliment…
Semper fi,
Jim
What a mess!!!…Excellent writing, as usual, you have a “gift” and I hope you continue to use it…I just read the last two instalments in one sitting after being away from the computer for a few days…what crazy events happen…some people may not believe all that you write but there is no way to make this shit up…no way…it is a real life experience that leaves a permanent picture in your mind’s eye…thank you again for sharing your experience…I anxiously await your next segment…
I have been seeking emersion not belief in my writing on this subject.
If you immerse yourself into the story it is almost impossible,
I believe, not to feel the sights, sounds, fear and shocking near incomprehensible wonder of the experience.
It’s not anti-war, anti-military or anti-American. It’s anti-logic and anti-mythology.
It’s also, I hope, about a search for understanding from those who served in
similar circumstance and those who did not but want to really know.
Thanks for the your compliment and for your writing about it on here…
Semper fi,
Jim
Emersion is an excellent word because that’s what happens when one reads your work…
it brings back memories and puts you back in a place where you can maybe understand some of the crazy
things that happened and why…
I was never “anti” anything except the armchair commanders that never knew or would admit what really went on…
my biggest gripe, when drafted, was that I wasn’t old enough to vote for the people that sent everyone to war…
the voting age then was 21…anyway,
I didn’t mean to ramble…
thanks for the artistry and the way you put your work together so that it becomes real for anyone reading it…
keep them coming…
Thank you most sincerely Mark for liking the work the way you obviously do, and also for being able to
articulate your words so well. It is always a pleasure to read good writing…because it is pretty damned rare.
You didn’t ramble and I will remember the word “artiste” as a grand compliment for what I am doing here.
thank you…
Semper fi,
Jim
This story also contains many of the fundamental, underlying reasons for what is known today as PTSD. It is so evident that it is hard to miss.
Post Traumatic Stress is a tough one because nobody experienced the same thing
but it sure seems to have occurred in tons of guys who went to the Nam.
Even those who were not in direct conflict.
What the hell was it about that particular war?
I know the guys in Afghanistan don’t have it easy and neither did the guys and gals who went to Iraq.
But Vietnam? Jesus.
Thanks for the usual cerebral stuff, my friend.
Semper fi,
Jim
You, Combat Whisper, what more can be said.
The gunnery still covering his own ass at anyone’s expense. You had just made a friend and then lost. Strong impact. Just maybe this unit is so fucked up the head honchos want it gone. Sounds logical.
Another great read. Thank You
Now that’s an interesting take JT. I remember the horse guy and I am thinking myself in a big field, on my knee looking out
over the grass and fence to what was once was…and whispering for those old lost and gone away memories to gently move toward me.
Those things of the valley and the guys and death done…but not gone, like Barnes, just waiting.
Thanks for the compliment inherent in your comment and your support.
Semper fi,
Jim
James…
You wondered about traumatic stress… This site has many facts about the war…
2 of the shocking to me were that there are over 13 million who claim to have been in country tbat weren’t… About 4 out of 5?
And that the average ww2 Pacific vet had 40 days of combat in 4 years. The Vietnam vet had 240 days of combat in one year thanks to the helicopter…
http://combatveteranonline.net/vietnam014.htm
Jim B from bentoB Harbor
Wow that is an incredible statistic. I’m remember reading about the thousand mile stare in the eyes of some of the 101st airborne in WWII and the impact of around 120 day in conflict… and some vets faced 200+ days…
No wonder the change out look and attitude upon a person.
Thank you Jim for sharing your story so that us of the younger generation can understand better the war and it’s impact upon our soldiers.
Thank you Andrew for your comment and for your support.
I really don’t know how my story impacts the overall image of what the
war’s result and its entirety were. It will take historians many years, if ever
to sift through all the results that will continue to come out of that
vicious pit of a war. Appreciate your coming on here to say something about
it…
Semper fi,
Jim
This is just some proof reading notes to assist, no need to publish as comment:
The crew of the fifty…………protection in the jungle undergrowth to organize(d) an attack.
Additionally, (it was) only our exposed position on the bank (that) allowed Cowboy and Hobo to know where we were, and for the rest of the company to drop in a base of fire without (it) taking us out (with it) or .
Thanks again BobG,
Noted and corrected
Lt., still with you reading online. Bought the hard copy book from Amazon will leave a rave review. Totally absorbed by the things that are going on. Army in Alaska & Berlin was never like this but enough stuff happening in rifle squad & platoon to believe it’s possible. Read an Iraqi War comment somewhere about a 50 cal. sniper shot at an Iraqi soldier on a water tower splitting the torso in half. The soldier’s six buddies beat feet quickly. Thank you for writing this! I have a better understanding of what happened to our guys as a result of being in Vietnam. Hope the writing is helping you deal with the experience too!
The .50 would leave big holes at a great distance but if the gun was close then the massive
round was moving around three thousand feet per second and could put 7 tons of energy into a half inch
diameter circle if it stopped suddenly. Close in those things were just awful. Unless you had one of your own,
of course. Thanks for the endorsement and the support, not to mention the comment on Amazon.
Semper fi,
Jim
“It takes a lot of medicine for me to pretend I’m someone.” Joe Cocker.
You choose your death or its chosen for you. You stand on a tank, you swim in a river of reality without reason but on your terms. You can lay down and sleep or keep moving. In the darkness you find escape and wait for the light but you know….it’s gonna be a long night.
Thank you for your service Sir. I’ve ordered your book. 70-71
What you just wrote was not a comment. It is poetry. I have reread it several times.
Neat way to say what you mean and put words together to entrance. Thank you so much for coming on here and making a comment.
And thanks for the thanks…which a lot of us don’t know how to say most of the time.
Semper fi,
Jim
I know this weapon well, After nam I was an M60 and 50 AI for OCS at Benning in early 1970. I did most of the demos to show what these weapons could do. Although I was never on the receiving end of either one. Happy to say. Got the hard copy of your book, I will share with my granddaughter who has been asking me what it was like there and I will let her read when she is ready maybe not now at 16.
Thank you Don. If you would care to elaborate on your experience with this weapon, and why infantrymen around the globe
fear it so much when used in ground warfare against them then I’m sure that everyone here would appreciate it. I am much
more of an expert of being on the receiving end of this weapon than shooting or maintaining it. Thanks for getting my book
and I much appreciate the comment you might have left on Amazon.
Semper fi,
Jim
Will you have your books at Winfield KS. on the fourth?
I was a gunner on the 46’s Purple Foxes 67/68. Had an emergency medevac at Ashu May 19th. Army heat stroke. Over temped a engine and had to shut it down. Confusion led to the wrong engine being shut down. We were at the top of the valley. We were able to recover by the time we were at lower altitude. Made it back to Marble and changed it out. I was wounded that night from mortars.
We will bring a load of books for signing to Winfield.
My newspaper staff has volunteered to come, each and every one.
I have some people in Lake Geneva closing shops to come.
The actions and comments by many of them leave me not knowing how to react.
Vietnam has been so unpopular all of my life since that time and I don’t know how to
react when people are so damned nice. There’s a lot of organization work to be done
in making sure everyone who comes has quarters and water and food and more. A labor of love,
I might add…and fun…and those two things are that common these days in doing almost anything.
Semper fi, and thanks for writing what you wrote here and your support…
Jim
Donald you mentioned Marble. Were you talking about Marble Mountain? I was with the 1st MAW, MAG-16 from October 1968 to November 1969. I forgot the dates. God bless you.
James ,got the book a couple days ago .Sent my comment.Another great read on here.Combat does strange things to the mind,Barnes stand up was one . Question, what happened to Fusner in the book? Name change to protect the innocent. Sounds like Dragnet . Semper Fi
Thanks a lot Roger. For the book and for the comment. I find it hard to comment on the
characters in the book because there are problems when telling real tales of tough circumstance.
Fiction is better. I’ll be 72 on Sunday so I don’t have that much time left on this rolling ball, but still,
I’d like to spend the rest in good company with good food and without close uniformed supervision.
Semper fi,
Jim
Have read every word, more than once, from your first day.
I’m surprised that no other survivors have written this story from their perspective previously. Then again, perhaps not surprising. Tough tale to recall.
Few people survive real intense combat. The ones that do come home pretty fucked up physically and mentally.
Finding those who do go on to recover and also are cogent enough to write about it in any kind of readable way
is probably pretty damned uncommon. Also, there’s a price, since a lot of the guys who did not go into combat
want to be seen as having done so…and there’s resentment and denial when they read the real shit. Who wants to pay
that price and for what? It’s not like the general public is going to chime in and make such writing the next
Harry Potter series…reality is too hard to admit and to live. Magic and fairy stuff is smiley food in comparison
and there are no witnesses and no resentment….
Semper fi,
Jim
One wonders why Gunny was so concerned about Jurgens? Were they that close, or did he need Jurgens’ support with the first platoon? He knew that Jurgens had tried to have you killed before and yet he insisted on barring with him, rather then ending his sorry life.
Now once again, he is willing to risk your life, to save Jurgens. Did he believe that if you saved Jurgens, the first platoon would accept you as company CO? Did he consider the gamble of you both being killed in the rescue? Or did he feel he would have to bare the guilt of ordering Jurgens, to do what you had ordered him to do? Sounds like Gunny was confused as Capt. Casey was.
As usual, the cutting edge calculations and investigation you are about J. Fun to read although I cannot comment on most of
what you conclude…as I know that you will expect that I not do. Thanks for the entertainment…
Semper fi,
Jim
I have seen the after effects of a 50cal on a body, just didn’t have the same picture that you gave of the impact. I believe you hit it on the head. Keep them coming Jim.
Yes, Mike, I am no stranger to .50 wounds. Some did not kill, amazingly enough.
I think he drama of Barnes passing was the direct hit on his spine which probably
burst the bullet head which was very close to muzzle energy maximum because of close
distance. At that range the bullet, if it was ball, can transmit as much as seven tons of
energy to the target, depending upon how much of that energy gets absorbed.
Thanks for the comment. The Gunny’s motives are more revealed as the story plays out…
Semper fi, and thank you,
Jim
Hi Jim what was the platoon doing with the PRC 12 handset that is a vehicle radio. Probably a PRC 25 multi channel or the older PRC 10 single channel radios both platoon, company radios.
That Prick 25 handset became a 12 by word spell or check or whatever the hell it is. I wrote it right.
We used all PRC 25 radios and the AN 323 for Air. I heard later that the PRC was modified to cover the air frequencies.
Thanks for the correction and I so changed it.
Semper fi,
Jim
Carried a PRC25 in 68 (one trip into the Valley) and I could talk to air support (and even the New Jersey even thou we 101st)- meaning you are correct with the update. Still a doing a Great job
Thanks Bob. Some of what I write about isn’t due to research at all. Just memory. A guy called me on the song “In the Year 2525,” and I remembered it as being performed
by a group Brother John had called “Truth.” I never forgot that. But then a guy said it was the two singers who’d first put the song out later on. I checked. He was right.
But not totally. The song came on Armed Forces Radio earlier and the tiny almost non-existent label it came out under, same singers, was called Truth. It was made in a
small studio. Brother John got the name right but it was not a group. Same two guys under first label before it got picked up. I left the entry alone in the book.
Sometimes we remember shit and also Armed Forces Radio ran some stuff that was totally fresh and changed for the public back home later. I know because I was able to buy
some of the original reel to reel tapes in the seventies and I’ve got them on my basement rig.
Thanks for the comment and for being here in the first place…
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim, if I had not been a grunt 67/68 I would call BS on some of this but so much unbelievable stuff happens in combat that every single item could be true. I will point out that crocs are reptiles not amphibians. I would have thought an LT. would have known that, maybe not, some butter bars were not near as swift as you. LOL
Keep them coming.
SEMPER FI
Well, Tony, I don’t really know how to respond to that. Yes, crocodiles are reptiles and I think I first learned that in High School.
My higher education was in anthropology and physics but that’s no excuse for failing in that description. Thanks for the correction and I will see to fixing it.
You were there and so you know a lot of stuff. I don’t know where you were or what units you were with or the nature of your combat duties. As i write what happened,
or what I say happened, I am also using fiction to help me through. I don’t remember every conversation by rote or every incident in brilliant detail. I remember a lot
and have some aids to memory, however. I hope confusing reptile for amphibian is maybe up there near the worst part of my misunderstandings or misstatements. Thanks again
for the support and the criticism….
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim
I have ordered your book. It looks like Amazon is behind the power curve because the rest of the stuff I ordered is on the way but your book isn’t. Hope it is because the book is more popular than they thought and that is good news.
I have read the chapters on your web site and am totally captivated. Great reading. A gut wrenching perspective on combat. Thank you for writing the book.
Thank you Rodney, I am trying my heart out to lay it down as close as I recall it.
Not always as easy as it might seem. Editing is hard and time-consuming and I do not have a professional staff except for Chuck who handles
the website and the I.T. stuff. thanks for liking the work and thanks for writing about that on here.
Semper fi,
Jim
I was in prior to Vietnam, I have nothing but respect for all the Vietnam veterans, great book. Semper Fi.
Thanks Alex, we guys from the conflict really appreciate people like you who care and express that care, like in this comment.
Semper fi, man
Jim
Just keeps getting better and more questions as to why no help sent in or couldn’t they get to you? Weather getting better hopefully will get down to see you soon. Also what year was this, as I was in I Corp 67-68. Stay safe.
A couple of edits:
“That’s all for you, bucko,” Barnes said, before his torso dissolved in (a) blown red cloud of mist and chunky bits, as the 50 Cal. round found him.
His head wagged lightly with occasional(ly) brushes with the current below.
Wow! It just keeps getting deeper (no pun intended)!
I momentarily had the idea of joining you in Winfield, but my wife shot me down with the reminder that the 4th is family time and that I have an important doctor appointment on the 5th. Hope all goes well.
Read “The First Ten Days” already, couldn’t put it down. Now anxiously await the next one.
Yes, Winfield, the wild crazy plan to have a Viet Vet combat rendezvous is insane because of
our ages and our commitments. It’s the 4th, after all. But what the hell, most of us are not exactly
all there anyway. The guys who can’t come, well that’s okay and we’ll miss them even if we don’t know them.
Will it be something special? I don’t know. Most of the fun things in life can be summed up with that
phrase at the front end though.
Semper fi, and thank you.
Jim
I felt for Barnes but nothing for Jurgens. Barnes forgot where he was at in his haste to kill the crocodile. Its a shame.
Yes, there as Barnes. I don’t know why he got up on that tank. It was a ‘kid’ kind of thing to do.
He forgot about the .50 or other enemy and even friendly fire.
Truthfully, when I was out in the river I was afraid of Sugar Daddy’s platoon too….
Race was such a giant deal over there…
although I am heartened to read here in comments that some guys did not have that experience at all.
Admittedly, my company had a large percentage of
blacks (at least 25%) but that shouldn’t have created that problem.
More mysteries…
Semper fi,
Jim
RIP Mr. Barnes…you are not forgotten ever.
No, Roger, he will never be forgotten by those of us who still remember.
Time, of course, will close it all down as the eras and eons ahead are all yet in front
of the species. But for now…Barnes lives.
Semper fi,
Jim
Rally cry for a brave Marine. “Barnes Lives”. From an Army REMF (MP Sentry Dog Handler) ’71-72. Semper Fi LT. Always with great respect.
Yes, Barnes does live on. Seems every time I became a bit close to people in combat
then God moved in and made them his own friends. Thanks for the reading and the comment here.
Semper fi,
Jim
Another clue in your struggle with God, with the loss of a friend. However, you acknowledged that you knew where Barnes was going though, didn’t you? No greater love has a man, then to lay down his life for a friend. One day all of our vets will have a reunion where love abounds.
Yes.
Once again, outstanding relating that long ago life, which was often way too short for so very many. Barnes and you are both heroes in my book, for going to the rescue of someone who many would not even think of taking the risk for. Me being one of them, I think. But I wasn’t there at the time, so it is easy for me to feel that way. I have pulled several people out of the water, but no one was shooting at us at the time.
Was a good thing that you done, both there in the Valley, and again at the beach party.
Thanks Craig. When I was out there with the Lance Corporal I wondered for a bit what the hell I was doing.
And I also wondered later at my own confidence that help was on the way if we just stayed afloat beyond the break.
Actually, the rescue wasn’t that physically difficult. It was more a function of knowing how big waves move and respond
and what to do to work with and through them. Thank you for the compliment and mentioning the occurrence in the first place on here…
Semper fi,
Jim
Holy Shit LT, I was literally shaking reading this installment. I didn’t get to the Corps until ’79, but was lucky enough to spend some time with some Nam Marines. They told me some things, but nothing like this. As always, thanks for the ride, and please keep it coming. SF.
The last few segments have been pretty wild and woolly in action and the rest of the tour
will not disappoint in that regard. The bottom of the A Shau was literally alive with predators
and prey at all times of the day and night….and filled with so many competing species it was
astounding. Tarzan books had nothing on that place. No long vines to swing on, though.
Thanks for the comment and the compliments buried inside it.
Semper fi,
Jim
Got your book James and managed to figure out how to comment….I hope. Please keep up the great writing.
Thanks a lot Al, means a lot to get the comment and to have another vet with a book.
I am at the writing working on 14 second part right now.
Thank you most sincerely,
Semper fi,
Jim
“Sorry my writing is sometimes not descriptive enough” Now that is a funny one Jim. At least for those of us who so this type of crap. As usual Great Job (IMO)
Well, I don’t always get it right. Sometimes the fog of night overcomes me and the way I remember and see it all does not come out right. I just got caught referring to
a reptile as an amphibian. How did I do that? I don’t know but I did. I was not clear in describing what happened to Barnes so I had to go in and edit that very important and
pivotal part so it would be clear. Thanks for finding humor in much of this and for liking the read, no matter what…
Semper fi,
Jim
The good always die young, sad isn’t?
They don’t always die young but it is the young that are sent into such circumstance. Maybe the older guys won’t go.
I don’t know. I am not writing this to keep anyone from going. I am writing this for recovery and for understanding of how it really was.
I want anyone going to use it as a primer for what he or she must face on that first day and in those first weeks. If I get one ‘butter bar’ to
approach combat as a student instead of a flat out leader then I’ve succeeded with him or her. You can only lead the unit if you join the unit.
You can only join the unit if the unit will have and allow you. Yes, it is all on you.
They don’t teach that.
Semper fi,
Jim
Just got my paper back copy of the “First Ten Days”, I’ll be re-reading it for the next few days. Really enjoying this tale Jim. Good work!
Semper Fi, Pat
Thanks Pat, it is mostly my pleasure to write it. Some parts are tougher than others.
The things you remember that you would never think for a second at the time that they’d stay with you through life.
Barnes’ smile. Fusner holding the handset out with that Radar look on his face. My Japanese binoculars (I tracked a set down years
later and now they are in my car!). Why? I don’t know. The inside of that Starlifter flying through the drug induced night
with all of us in plastic bag ‘cocoons,’ and the blurry appearance of the other larva things….
Semper fi,
Jim
Just out of curiosity,where the hell is the rest of the battalion while your company is in deep shit? Hell you needed a regiment when you went into that shithole.
Well, Luigi, at that time the ground forces in that part of the province were avoiding the
A Shau. The Army had taken a terrible toll there in the months before and later, after my tour,
the Marines took in the ass there again. Both of those times our military went in in force. Between times both
ground services used smaller, lighter and less committed units. The Green Berets and the Special Forces were part of that
along with Force Recon and even combat units like my own. We had no real lines or established targets to hit…as everything and every set
of orders changed almost every day. And communication inside the valley was fine but trying to reach battalion was always problematic.
Artillery Batteries and these huge antennas erected and that made reaching them a lot easier.
The real answer is “I don’t know,” but I have my opinions about it, as I’ve laid out here…
Semper fi,
Jim
Semper fi,
Jim
Your writing is descriptive enough, and then some. I instinctively ducked and involuntarily blanched when I read the sentence of that brass-balled kid’s last instant. And how you put up with Jurgen’s shit is beyond me. I’m beginning to develop a visceral hate for that NVA fifty, and am counting how many of their damnable nine lives they have left.
My TDHS book came back marked as “undeliverable” to this address when I sent it for autograph. USPS told me it was because I was using “book rate” on postage. When you have a minute (I know, funny, huh?), could you message me the mailing address to your magazine/newspaper. Thanks!
SF,
PFJ
The newspaper is: The Geneva Shore Report, 507 Broad Street, Lake Geneva, WI 53147. All the mail for me personally or the newspaper
goes to that address, which is really Amy’s shipping emporium. We don’t get mail at home or at the newspaper office.
Thanks for sending the book off. Send my your address Conway and I’ll simply send out an autographed book straight to you.
I have two left in the car right now.
Semper fi,
Jim
All this has got me re-reading some books. Better Times Than These, Charlie Company, Chicken Hawk, and Chicken Hawk Back in The World. Now I really have a case of guilt for not being in Nam! Oh well. I kept the planes going that hauled y’all back and forth. Saw most of the aluminum caskets that hauled back bunches.
Larry. If you had gone with some of us into the valley you would have come out in a bag, blown into nothingness or
changed into some other kind of zombie being. You did not go, for whatever reason. I celebrate your life and you
nights of peace and quiet, without you having to acquire night vision, seismic sensors, cameras and then waiting for
the enemy that’s never coming.
Semper fi,
Jim
I think I just got over my guilt. Finally.
You are a man, and the fact that you felt guilt means that you are a good man with an inner sense of honor…
and now understanding that you are exceptional and should lay away the value of the guilt you set up on yourself to get
better at being the man of honor you are. Not a tough conclusion to make in checking you out a bit…
Thank you for being so straight and forthright on here…and here, you are among many like you…without regard to
what different crucibles we were forged in…
Semper fi
Jim
Sadness returns, the loss of a Marine to those sorry suckers on the fifty. Hard one to read again, weirdness back into a mess of a situation. Nobody drags this out of his mind just because he can dream up a few words. It has to come from a special spirit in a young man terrorized by every element of his life for the last 14 days. You made me feel it Jim, very good story telling that cuts straight to the heart. Have enjoyed the two vignettes of video recently as well. Putting a face to a heart already known makes it all together a surreal experience. Rest friend. Poppa Joe
Chuck sent me a photo of you Poppa and I am most pleased to have printed it out and stuck it to the bottom of my monitor.
You are a class act and writing for the likes of you reminds me about why I’m writing at all…
Thank you…for the support, the care and the motivation.
Semper fi,
Jim
Hope the monitor’s screen isn’t scuffed up with a crusty old image. I keep a picture of myself with a baby on my lap who had a skin issue near my computer. One of about six or so on an old banana plantation turned into an orphanage by a old Vietnamese couple. Went out to do sickcalls when things would get a little slow. It helps with better memories. Thank you for the undeserved compliments. Poppa Joe
Not at all Poppa. Smiled at your picture because you look so happy and peaceful.
Much appreciate your comments straight from the shoulder and heart.
And your support of me and my writing has
not blown right by me either…
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
The best yet.
Thank you Tony. I shall take that as a great compliment.
Semper fi,
Jim
There was nothing the company could do on the other side to help Jurgens. None of the rest of the Marines in his platoon had made any attempt to come down the rope after their platoon commander and (I) no one could fault them for that.
Remove the (I)
The gunny and his ever present chess game. Jurgens reminds me of the ass that would start a bar fight then hide under a table while watching others fight.
Thanks again for the sharp eye,Pete. Another early morning session.
Duly noted and corrected
Semper fi
Jim
There are a lot of them out there. All mouth and no guts.
friggin 50s. ya love to be shooting them but hate getting shot at,,
Yes, exactly. Most people do not know that a fifty can reach out four miles or more
in distance to land it’s immensely heavy bullets where needed. Fierce in a combat zone.
And penetration. It will find you in the midst of the debris, foliage and muck of the jungle.
The only advantage is that gunners might not be able to see you.
Thanks for your comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
Great book 30 days has September first 10 days will be looking for more
Thank you Norman. I am hoping you left a review on Amazon.
Thanks for buying the book and thank for liking it..
Semper fi,
Jim
Now I am going be waterlogged and skin all wrinkly as I crouch with you on the upside down in the middle of the river for the next 3 days until you write the next episode….someone needs to 86 that 50…
Hated the .50 for the whole time I was there. The most deadly of all ground
weapons at the time, really. Yes, the river stuff was something, even being a water person as I was and remain.
I think that river was about the only water on earth I’ve ever been in that terrified me about what might in it.
Its murky depths allowed for no visibility and you knew there was bad shit down there…and all you could hope to do
was get lucky.
Semper fi,
Jim
Dang it , I liked Barnes can-do spirit , but why did he standup ?? A-1s must put all they have on the NVA !! Jurgens is a jerk!! Carry on !!
I do not know why Barnes stood up. There was a lull in the incoming fire
and Barnes was all taken up with hunting and killing the croc. Weird shit happens
out there in the bush and you only get the results sometimes. You reflect, mostly later,
on what caused so many people to do so many things but you don’t get much in the way of answers.
Thanks for the deep thinking and commenting…
Semper fi,
Jim
So your Navy and Marine Corps Medal was for saving Jurgens? Been trying to figure that out since I saw you mention it in an early “comments” post. Initially thought it was going to be for Pilson but Casey nixed that one… My SgtMaj had the Navy/Marine Corps Medal. Asked him about it one day. His modest/short response…”pulled a kid out of a river”. Think my book will be there today for signing. Thanks.
Tim. Navy and Marine Corps Medal wasn’t received for my conduct in Vietnam. While I was healing up at Camp Pendleton Hospital near the end of my medical treatments I was ambulatory enough to be taken to the beach. When I was walking up and down the beach, my wounds still somewhat open a bit up and down my bandaged middle, I saw a Marine party going on nearby. I avoided the party. Not long after I saw a Marine out in the surf. It was a rough surf day with the break running at about ten feet or a bit more. A Marine from the party was caught in the inshore hole between a sand bar and the surf and was being pounded to death. There was nobody to save him. I have always been great in the water and was raised in Hawaii surfing and swimming in such conditions. I swam out, got hold of him, and then dragged him out through the break to the swells on the other side. Then all I had to do was keep him above water because I knew the Marines on the shore would be calling for help. They were. Half an hour later the San Clemente Life Guard boat sped down and picked us up. The man running the party was a weathered Sergeant Major. He thought my going out with the wounds I was still be effected by was courageous. He put me in for the medal.
Thanks for the interest and the comment. No, I didn’t get anything for Jurgens but then that was merely a combat move. Plus I didn’t know enough about crocodiles to be that afraid one.
Semper fi,
Jim
Very cool. Guessing that salt water burned like hell on your still healing wounds….
You know, in reality, salt water stung at first, for about two or three minutes but
the adrenalin was running pretty high once I was committed. Action takes over and masks so much.
I was not in pain when I finally got aboard the boat, but in truth I had to be almost carried form the boat
to the pier in order to rest and recover for some time. The funny part was that the boat pulled into Dana Point
and I lived in San Clement. I had to walk the nearly ten miles home! That parts not in the citation!
Semper fi, Craig,
Jim
Barnes, damn! Deep doodoo Jim! Hoping Fusner calls back the sky raiders before it’s too late. Wanted to say I read your essay regarding Facebook and I just had to say I wouldn’t have found you and your brilliant writing without it. All the best! Semper Fi Jim!
Thanks, occasionally I do indeed think about bailing out of my personal Facebook page.
It can be depressing to not hear from much intellect about things I put a lot of thought and
effort into expressing. But here I am and there I am and very likely to stay…
thanks for the compliment and caring…
Semper fi,
Jim
I first found you and 30 days on one of your earlier posts of the first night on Face Book. I have been enthralled ever since. Sometimes I think Face Book is a waste of time also but not always thanks to you. Keep them coming LT. I was was close to your AO in 69 and 70 with the 27th Combat Engr. Bn. Helped construct, maintain and mine sweep Rt. 547 to the A Shau as well as FSB’s Birmingham. Bastogne, Veghel and Blaze.
Thanks,
Dave
What would we have done over there without the tremendous support from units and guys like you David.
Jack shit, is what we’d have done. Thanks for that.
And thanks for the comment here and the support there…
Semper fi,
Jim
Absolutely riveting read. I know you survived the war, but your writing style has me hoping you make it. BZ, LT
Thank you Ken, as I did indeed survive to write this odyssey through hell on earth.
Thanks for reading and thanks for the compliment.
Semper fi,
Jim
Man! If it wasn’t for bad luck, you wouldn’t have any at all. Use Barnes’ K-bar to gut the croc, put Jurgens in the carcass and see if charlie shoots at him. Just a thought. Anxiously awaiting the solution.
Walt. For those of you who don’t know out there, the crocodile has one of the toughest skins of any animal
and it’s almost impossible to stick a knife into it unless you manage to reach the softer belly. I know you were being
facetious. Thanks for the thoughts about the incident, however.
Semper fi,
Jim
I don’t understand… what happened to Barnes, and Why?? I re-read this and still am smh in confusion… Please help me out with this..
Barnes stood up on the tank for whatever reason. He took a fifty caliber round through the spine and out his chest when they opened up again.
It damned near blew him in half. Maybe I wasn’t clear enough. I don’t know why he stood up, except it offered him a position above and safe
from the croc he was going to shoot. I believe he got a bronze star with “V” that I put him in for in the after action report for saving Jurgens.
Thanks for the comment, and sorry my writing is sometimes not descriptive enough.
It is fixed a bit.
Semper fi,
Jim
OHH, now I understand… Dearest God in Heaven.. I cry and cry for you boys…..
Thanks Marsha. I think for some, the reading of the story is kind of a silent revelation
that helps explain why some of the guys come home incommunicado and worse.
The drinking and drugs were so needed for awhile.
What else was going to deaden that shit and keep many of us from
doing here what we did over there…
Thank you so much for your comment here…
Semper fi,
Jim
Damn, as if the fifty wasn’t enough of a problem, a crocodile too. What a mess to be in, and you’ve got us readers there with you. Thanks James. Seriously, wow. Can’t wait to see how you get out of this one. Thank God for air support, when you could get it, in that God forsaken land. Keep writing, let it flow. I for one, am thoroughly enmeshed in this story now with no hope of letting go until you’re out of there. Not just the river, but that whole stinking land. Damn!!!
I never considered the tour along the bottom of the A Shau and adventure or romantic but I have
come to understand that it was that, but only from a retrospective position where the fear and worry
and misery can be pulled from it. Thank you for the neat comment and all the thought and work behind it.
Semper fi,
Jim
I don’t like those crock or snake you got me scared Lt. Come on now light up
I can only lay the words down as the story develops and the words dictate.
Thank you for telling me that the story is reaching you. That’s a compliment and I accept
your words as that.
Semper fi,
Jim
HOLY CRAP ON CRACKER !!!
got your first ten days read and my brother read it too ..he wanted to know when the other two books were coming out ..he is suffering from PTSD from a different era ..I think it has helped him …thanks for your writing of your experiences
I am glad that I might have possibly helped your brother. That is the good part of what’s going on with
this work. Thank you for buying the book. I do so hope you left a comment. We have 138 now and growing.
I don’t really understand how all that works but they all say the same thing…if you get a ton of great reviews
then you get noticed…whatever the hell that is supposed to mean!
Thank you, most sincerely,
Semper fi,
Jim
“Shit…”…..””That’s not a time””…..real stuff here Lt….the grim humor of war..so brutal, and so funny that you can lay there with your face in the mud, rounds slapping the air you are trying to suck in, knocking it away, making it harder and harder to breath…and you realize that you are laughing at what you just heard or said….later, if you live…so damn funny that you will never forget it…Love it….Semper Fi
Thanks Larry for your usual perceptive and well written description about your own conclusions.
They help reframe and form the work, especially when it comes time for the editing of the work and putting it into
book form…
Semper fi,
Jim
Wow. the tank scene made me sit here with my mouth open. Had to read it twice to comprehend that the explosion of red and brown mist was Barnes and not the Croc. Gonna have to walk off the adrenaline now. I’m amazed.
I had to edit that scene SSgt. Most people did not understand that it was Barnes
taking the .50 hit in the spine. Thanks for reading so closely and caring as much as you do.
Thanks for everything here…
Semper fi,
Jim
Just re-read the entire chapter, The redo of the Barnes/croc scene is perfect. Made me wince all over again. It has to be difficult recreating a nightmarish memory and putting it on paper for the world to live through it with you, you having to experience it all over again. We thank you again for letting us in.
Aw hell, SSgt, that one stays all the time so I’m not dredging it up out of some hidden locker or cave.
Just there and with me. So many of the guys, like Keating, that I just barely got to knew and then gone. Just like that.
You find yourself doing funny things. I have Keating’s watch (I didn’t get to keep his original one) on a winder. The Gus Grissom
Speedmaster. i never wear it. I just have it there for no good reason i can think of and certainly can’t tell a shrink about!
Thanks for the compliment, sir….
Jim
From your description of Keating, he was what you considered a real marine officer and you indicated that you and he had a long conversation that first night after his arrival. It would have been great to have gotten some insight on that conversation between the two of you, so that one could understand why you had so much respect and concern for him.
Clearly he was not prepared for the bush, just as you were not prepared for your introduction on the firing line. He was also concerned about the personnel problem and the racial issues that were readily acknowledged, but not properly dealt with. It was obvious that you and he thought a like and would have made a good team.
Keating. Shit, I kind of hate writing about Keating. I have the watch I bought to replace his own
right here with me as I write this. He was a great officer nipped right in the bud. He was in an earlier Basic School class
of mine. Won no awards. Just one of the guys. Like hell. Casey would have been good too. I just know it.
Wish I had the helmet. Casey’s helmet. I guess I do, in my head instead of on it. Came to love wearing it in
the Nam because it was his and also FNG’s would be in awe…and I kind of liked that. The other Marines, of course,
the roady Marines, thought I was an idiot. Take your pick…
Semper fi,
Jim