On the second day there was no meeting to plan the fake attack on Hill 110.
The Gunny drifted by when the big Double Trouble CH46 lifted off from resupply, loaded with body bags, the wounded and one Marine who’d served out his time. Actually, he was six days short of the thirteen months but he was called back to be processed out, whatever arcane procedure that might be. When I asked the Gunny about how someone ended up out with us to finish his tour, since most knew that if you lasted six months you got to go to the rear, he shrugged and said it was the luck of the draw. When I stared back at him with one raised eyebrow he relented.
“Pissed somebody off, like you,” he said, squatting down to brew some coffee and to drop off a large unmarked cardboard box. “Start the attack fire with artillery and then cut it back after a few hours,” he instructed. “That’ll give us enough time to take the hill.”
I was in country in 65, we had things together. For the most part.
Thanks for your story telling.
Keep up the good work.
SIR.
Semper Fi
You are most welcome John, as I continue with the support of so many vets like you…
Semper fi,
Jim
I am kinda glad I found this read so late in your writing. I went back to page 1 and have devoured all I could each night. Usually 4 or 5 chapters at one sitting, before taking a day or so off to digest what I read.
I cannot relate to the experiences here. I was Army Engineer 2 tours in Nam and never experienced anything close to the broken discipline I am reading about. I am bothered that anyone had to live that way.
Keep up the good writing. I will respond again later in the series.
You ‘relating’ Major. It is in your words and in your enthusiasm for taking it all in.
I don’t know if people who have not been in and around the trial by fire can ever relate,
but I know you can. You may not believe or understand in a way but you sure as hell do relate.
Thank you for that and for the comment and the reading.
Semper fi,
Jim
When I got to the Nam as a new “Shake and Bake” sergeant, I was assigned to a line company with a reputation of being flakey. Luckily for me they were looking for volunteers for a recon platoon. This is the best decision I ever made over there. Rank had little meaning in the platoon till you earned it, which gave me time to learn my craft. We worked as a small unit and as a result developed a real trust in each other. We had a mixed race platoon, which worked well out in the bush, but once we got back in the rear area with the REMFs, things broke down. I enjoy your story especially the difficulties of command.
Your description of what happened to you is so in line with what I am writing here.
And it was so all about the luck of the draw. What unit did you get sent to and what was
happening in that unit when you got there. Rank had strange meanings and strange
attachments to it. Thank you for telling it like it was. Hard to do. And the criticism for doing it
can be pretty painful.
Semper fi,
Jim
I am just fascinated and waiting in anticipation for the next part. I was fortunate to never be in the bush during my year. So this is all new and unreal to me. So far you are still alive so far and I am sure confused. Here is to coming our alive.