I had no idea how the attack into the tree line on the other side of the Agent Orange clearing would go down. Once more, as with each day’s move since I’d been in country, things just seemed to happen without a lot of verbal orders, command post meetings or formal preparations. In training, everything had been carefully choreographed in order to make sure no details were left out, or open questions, unanswered. The Marine Corp was known for being experts at the frontal attack. Their ‘fire and maneuver,’ method involved a squad of men taking off with the fire teams roughly splitting up behind the squad leader. The squad would leap-frog across the exposed area, with one fire team dropping down to lay covering fire for the fire team nearby that was up and moving forward. That moving fire team would then drop, the process repeating itself over and over again until the whole company was safely, or unsafely, across.
My scout team surrounded me, all wearing the heavy packs we used to transport everything. In combat situations, the main packs would usually be discarded until the fighting ended and they could be retrieved. For reasons the Gunny had not shared with me, that wasn’t being done for this crossing, which could be damaging to everyone in the company, to say the least.
The Gunny reappeared, moving smoothly through the hardening mud toward my position. I noted once again the mild but cooling wind of higher altitude and the lack of mosquitoes. Possibly, without the war and combat, parts of Vietnam could be considered places of comfort and beauty, but I couldn’t imagine this battle zone infested with hiking tourists and day campers. I squatted down and dumped my pack next to me. Noticing that my hands and arms looked vaguely whitish, I rubbed my left hand up and down my right forearm. The mix of junk on my skin felt like an oily lotion but smelled like a mix of gasoline, diesel fuel and rancid milk. Whatever was in the mix would probably kill me down the line, but I wasn’t too worried about down the line.
“The defoliant combines with the repellent and turns a strange milky white,” the Gunny said, dropping his own pack next to mine and lighting up a cigarette with his neat looking Zippo lighter. “Probably a bad mix. Up here you shouldn’t use the repellent, not close to that Orange shit, anyway.”
“What’s our plan?” I asked, wishing I didn’t have to ask but no longer embarrassed in asking.
The Gunny had accepted me into the company, although that meant little to First or Fourth Platoons, and he’d also convinced me that I could not function as a commander of anything. At least not until I knew more. Watching the Gunny smoke his cigarette and looking at the open area beyond where we had to go, I knew at that moment that if I hadn’t done things exactly as I had so far, under his guidance, I would not be alive. I couldn’t afford to reflect on what the company was supposed to be all about, or how it was run. I had to think about the next right thing to do to stay alive.
The Gunny finished his cigarette, taking one last long drag before tossing the remains into a nearby stand of bamboo. He looked like a real warrior I might have seen in one of those war movies back in the States, except he was way too dirty and his eyes looked like pools of flat black obsidian.
“We’re going in right behind the initial squad approach First Platoon is making,” the Gunny said, working his way back into his own heavy pack. “We’re wearing full packs because we can’t be moving back and forth in the open, not with the tunnels they’ve likely got running under this whole area.”
“I thought we’d be in the back with Fourth Platoon,” I said, since neither the Gunny nor I carried anything but Colt automatics, and those were all but useless in making a full frontal assault on anything or anybody.
“You can’t lead from the rear in this,” the Gunny said, looking me straight in the eyes, before softening his expression, “and I sure as hell don’t want to be anywhere near Sugar Daddy when you start calling artillery.”
“What about Willie Peter?” I asked.
“What about it?” the Gunny replied, getting ready to move.
“I can call in a battery of six up and down the tree line before we cross,” I told him. “The burning phosphorous will still be burning in little spots all over there by the time we make it.”
“Will it burn our guys too?” the Gunny said, his expression serious as he weighed the odds.
“Some,” I replied. “Not much, maybe a second degree patch here and there, but the effect will probably keep a lot of NVA heads down while we cross.”
“I’m not sure that’s such a great idea,” the Gunny said. “That shit’s like napalm. If the guys get some on them then they’ll hold it against you.”
“Really?” I replied, with a cold smile. “I wasn’t too popular in training and my peer evaluations here seem pretty goddamned low, as well.”
I held my hand out toward Fusner without looking, my eyes locked with the Gunny’s own. The radio microphone filled my hand but I didn’t move.
The Gunny shook his head almost imperceptibly, a look of resignation on his face.
I made the call back to Russ, making sure to fire the first round deep, or over where I thought it might land. At fifty meters in the air it would blossom so huge and bright it would be impossible to miss, even with the naked eye.
“Make the call,” the Gunny breathed, after it was too late.
The radio speaker said “splash, over,” and I moved with Fusner to the back side of the berm to observe. In spite of being beyond effective range, the round blew itself to bits fifty meters above where the path should take us through once we crossed over. And it was about five hundred meters over. I dropped four hundred and fired for effect. Battery of one, and then adjusted the fire left and right, moving up and down the tree line in three hundred meter increments. I needed no map or numbers. It was child’s play.
I pressed the transmit button after the last smoking pile of rounds burned its way into a thick mound of bamboo, high trees and jungle cover. The entire tree line was a smoking mass of little burning fires, and the smoke clouds just kept getting bigger. A great white and gray mass seemed to be moving over the entire exposed area the company had to get over.
“Yes,” I breathed into the open mic.
“Not bad, eh?” came back over the radio, Russ having heard my approval.
“Thanks Russ,” I said back, softly. “You just took some of the fire out of Troub City by putting some real fire into it, and the smoke would cover a battleship attack up here.”
“Let’s go,” I said to the Gunny, handing the mic back to Fusner.
“A fucking smoke screen,” the Gunny said. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
The Gunny pulled something out of his utility top that had been hanging around his neck. My first thought, ‘dog tags’, until he blew it. A whistle, of course. Everyone began to move along the line. Men I hadn’t even known existed climbed over chunks of bracken and through stands of bamboo to move out into the open and then on into the cloud. I knew the phosphorous would burn for about another ten minutes and then the smoke would be gone, the wind making sure that any residual smoke left behind by small fires would be quickly scudded away.
I wanted to run across the open ground as quickly as possible, but instead I waited with the Gunny, counting on the fact that his superior knowledge and combat experience would allow him to pick just the right moment. I knew that time had come when the Gunny spoke a few words to Nguyen. Almost before I saw the Kit Carson scout rise to his feet, he’d taken off into the cloud. Nguyen’s ease of movement through the jungle, his tough endurance and silent accommodation of everything around him, made me fear for any success of the United States in this war. The enemy was like Nguyen. Like a bunch of Nguyens: bright, tough, loyal and dedicated, fighting in its own back yard.
This time there would be no hiding. I knew that right away. My pack had to weigh almost sixty pounds and that didn’t include my automatic, full canteens, extra ammo, K-Bar bayonet and everything else. Naked, I’d probably be down to about a hundred and thirty pounds. No loads in training ever approached what I carried now. There would be no running across the open space. There wouldn’t even be firing. I could not hear a single shot of small arms fire come back out of the smoke cloud, AK or M16. Maybe the clever wily NVA soldiers were simply dug in and waiting until the company was fully committed, like the Japanese holding the inland mountains on some of those island campaigns during WWII.
I trudged behind the Gunny, unable to see anything or anybody else, although I was aware of Fusner, Stevens and Zippo right behind me. I had no idea what the Gunny said to Nguyen, or what my native scout might be up to. That the Gunny knew some Vietnamese surprised me. I should probably be upset by being left out of almost every decision, no matter how big or small, but I wasn’t. I knew the only way I’d manage to stay alive was by taking one step after another forward through the covering cloud of my own design. I heard two distinct M16 round bursts, maybe three rounds of fire in each burst, but there wasn’t any way in the thick smoke to see if the rounds were tracers, or what they might have been fired at.
There were no other shots. It took less than ten minutes to reach the tree line. The smoke cleared as we approached the line of jungle not killed off or eaten away by the aerial spraying months earlier with Agent Orange. The many little fires burning everywhere seemed to be burning off the natural smoke from the phosphorus being broken open and exposed to air.
My eyes and lips began to burn. I moved toward an area with less smoke. Some Marines in front of me had stopped to cough, leaning on the butts of their M16s, the ends of the weapons’ barrels sticking into the mud. I knew why they were coughing. The smoke from white phosphorus was not usually dangerous. The Navy used it for making smoke screens for its ships. But in very humid conditions the gas changed chemically from a rather inert smoke to something called phosphoric acid. I breathed the clear air deeply in and out and opened one of my canteens to swab my eyes and wash out my mouth. Mucus membranes were the most at risk. Nguyen came from nowhere, seemingly unaffected by the smoke, while Zippo, Stevens and Fusner followed my example with their own water supplies without my having to warn them about the exposure.
“No enemy?” I said to the assembled group, the Gunny nowhere to be seen.
“Nothing yet, I guess,” Stevens said, between tossing handfuls of water into his open eyes.
I looked around at the clear area. The fires were quickly going out as the phosphorus burned itself out and the wet jungle plants, ferns and trees provided no tinder for any kind of fire. After looking around, the whole team acted as one and eased down to the fern covered mud floor of the jungle. Either the enemy was dug in and waiting, which began to seem unlikely, or they had run away from the artillery barrages, the Willie Peter quite possibly being the last fearful insult to drive them out.
The Gunny came out of the jungle by pushing aside some young bamboo shoots and emerging only a few feet away.
“Sent out scouts,” he said, squatting down to begin making his habitual preparations for a cup of coffee. “We’ll wait here until they get back. We’re losing the light so might as well stay for the night. Doesn’t look like they waited around to try to take us out, or maybe they’re just laying up to come at us from a more defensible position.”
I looked around. In training I would have spoken up, as there was no better place I could imagine to defend from than a thick tree line with nothing but dense jungle behind you — a jungle that you knew way better than the veins on the back of your hand.
“We’re gonna need a medevac, anyway,” the Gunny said, talking in a way as if he had to talk to somebody.
It wasn’t like the Gunny at all. I looked around and could tell that Fusner and Stevens had picked up on his odd tone, too. Zippo obliviously worked to begin the clearing and building of a hooch.
“I had Pilson call it in,” the Gunny went on. “He’s over there helping Jurgens out. Seems somebody opened up in the smoke, thinking they were shooting at the enemy but hit Jurgens’ radioman instead. He’s in a pretty bad way so we’ve got to get him out of here.”
Nobody said anything. Something in the back of my mind bothered me but I couldn’t quite identify it.
“He’ll be back in a little bit and we’ll get on with command and make sure they know we’re across,” the Gunny said, sipping from his canteen cover every four or five words, or so. “Mike Company will be coming up the trail in trace tomorrow so we’ve got to be out of here early. That means no resupply until we’re a whole lot closer to the valley.”
“Jurgens’ radioman, hit?” I asked, trying to figure out how a man so close to the platoon commander could take some rounds of friendly fire when nobody could see anything, and there was no incoming fire.
The Gunny didn’t answer, shakily taking out another cigarette to smoke with his coffee — also unusual. From what I’d learned in my first week with him, the Gunny had specific and succinct habits. I looked over at Fusner, wondering whether Sugar Daddy and the Fourth Platoon crossed with us or whether I should get ready to lay down a carpet of artillery fire on top of our former position. Fusner diddled with changing the battery in his radio, which I presumed he would have changed just before we went into combat, and not after. Stevens made his own coffee and Zippo worked away. None of my team would look at me, no matter how hard I stared from one to the other. Then I noted that they took great pains not to look at Nguyen, either. I climbed to my feet without warning.
“Gunny, got a second?” I said, beginning to walk down the tree line we’d just blown to hell. I made sure not to step back out into the open area, however. The Gunny followed me, taking several minutes to do so. He carried his cigarette between two fingers of his right hand and his canteen holder handle in the other.
Once we were out of hearing range I stopped and turned. “He missed,” I said flatly.
“Who missed?” the Gunny asked, his tone just a bit too incredulous. “Missed who?” he followed up. When I didn’t answer right away he got a bit confused about whether to smoke his cigarette or drink the coffee. I waited.
“Jurgens,” I finally said, knowing he was going to admit nothing. “Nguyen missed Jurgens in the smoke and hit his radio operator.”
The Gunny stood with his cigarette and canteen holder, both half way up to his mouth.
“Shit,” he would have said, but nothing came out. I read his lips.
I waited and he waited, neither of us moving.
“We need the artillery,” the Gunny finally said. “And we can’t get lost. If we get lost in these fucking mountains we’re dead. And who in hell can call Army artillery, anyway? I didn’t even know they had artillery in that god damned valley.”
I massaged my forehead with my right hand. With nothing else to be said, I began to walk away. But after only a few steps I had to stop. I didn’t turn around to process the words coming from behind me. After a slight hesitation, I moved on back toward the area where the team worked on making our home for the night. I rolled the words I’d only caught vaguely around in my mind. They sounded like “De nada.”
“Thanks,” I said to the Gunny, my voice a whisper.
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It seems to me that throughout this ordeal Army FB Cunningham has been extraordinarily responsive delivering accurate fire as needed. They also appear to have on hand an adequate amount of requested shells and fuses as well as fuses.
Cunningham was just wonderful, as was every element of the Army I dealt with.
The books are not done yet so I can’t reveal everything here about your conclusions.
In a war you seldom get everything you need every time you want it.
Thanks for the comment and coming on here to write it.
Semper fi,
Jim
I have read countless books about the Vietnam War, partly out of an interest in military history, but also because of a sense of guilt that this was the war of my generation that I avoided after college in 1969 by lucking out and getting into the National Guard, those days a legal escape from combat. I knew personally who lost their lives over there, a sense of fairness was missing in our country then. I became an officer in a 155 mm SP howitzer outfit, so your experiences are particularly interesting to me. There is NO WAY I could have performed as you did. You write in an incredibly riveting style and I eagerly await for more.
Hate to say that you could have done it but I think you probably could.
We all come up under difficult circumstance. Hell, if Keating hadn’t gotten confused
and unlucky at the same time I’m certain he’d have measured up. Casey? Well, the
court is still out on him.
Thanks for the depth of your comment and your caring read of the story.
Dump the guilt if it’s still there. You missed that show but it was one hell of a bad show.
And those rare creatures who came back and can articulate think you are great for being here
and writing on here. You are forgiven, even though you don’t need to be…
Semper fi,
Jim
On my 2nd tour with an air cav unit, C Troop 2/17th Cav, 101st, our helicopters sometimes had to dispense agent orange. Sometimes the containers burst and all the crew members were soaked in it. Some of them talk about licking their lips afterwards that had Agent Orange on them. They would go back, take the containers off and then continue flying missions, sometimes with us grunts sitting on the floors where the Agent Orange had dried. Just glad I had not been soaked with the stuff like our crew members. I had bladder cancer a few years back, but so far it isn’t considered Agent Orange related. Enjoying the read and also enjoying reading the comments submitted by other readers.
The comments by readers here is quite something. Totally unexpected and totally appreciated. I never
have a clue what some one of you is going to write next but I am glued to whatever it is going to be.
Thank you for the stuff about Agent Orange. The U.S. is going to continue to stone wall that one
because of the money. 85 more new ships but not one cent for the guys who helped assure that there’s even
a Navy left to go out there…
Thanks for the compliment and the comment too….
Semper fi,
Jim
James, I’m glad AO hasn’t hit you yet and hope it never does. I have no ill effects yet either, my children and grandchildren are a different story. My daughter at age 4 in 1989 was diagnosed with cancer, she had a bone marrow transplant and survived by some miracle. My other daughter has one child that is autistic and another that has a heart problem that they can’t diagnose. The VA only recognizes spina bifida in children. I can’t help wondering if I was the reason my offspring are ill due to my time in country. Danang 71-72
God, but that’s a tough one, not just to live with in the family but
to not know. Part of the problem is that the government works at claiming
it really wants to know while it drags its feet about finding out.
Many see the veteran’s returned problem simply as a ‘get over it’ and ‘get on with it’
kind of problem. Much much deeper water there. Thank you for writing about it. I know it’s hard.
My kindest wishes and prayers.
Semper fi,
Jim
Sir I’m a Marine GySgt. With 1/5. I know it’s a different generation and we have different issues but I’ve been deployed to Iraq three times and Afghanistan three times. My MOS is good old 0311. My generation is having our own health issues with our immune system and respiratory system due to the oil fields burning and the shit we burnt in the burn pits 24 hours a day. I know what political nonsense the Vietnam vets are going thru trying to prove you didn’t have any of these health issues before being exposed to the chemicals there. Semper Fi sir. I love the read!
“MAKE PEACE OR DIE”
High compliment from the real deal Gunny. Yes, many of the vets from these newer wars have been damaged beyond belief
and the price does not want to be paid by the country’s leadership. They want the money to go elsewhere and that’s mostly straight into
the pockets of the chemical and energy and defense equipment companies. Sad but true. The cost to really take care of the vets would not
be that significant compared to one fleet at sea or a couple of nuclear subs. The way it is.
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim, I would like to learn more humor events. Even in the worst of times some humor exists. As my Mother used to say “nothing is so bad that it could’nt be worse.
The humor was there but I am portraying my response to is as I reacted then, not now. The whole ‘password’ thing was funny as hell.
We had no passwords but Zippo made believe we did because he had that kind of sense of humor. There’s more to come, for sure,
but you have to pay pretty close attention. Actually, the C.O. of the battalion reading me the riot act for things I had no control
over and he knew it is pretty funny now. Crushing back then, though. Bennet was such a piece of shit.
Thanks for the request and I hope you will laugh at the right places as this continues to unfold.
Semper fi,
Jim
Can I order the entire 30 saga in print or in a Kindle format?
I’ve tried your email several times. It won’t go through.
Thank you!
I worked recon in the A Shau in 1970…got a Bronze Star and a Purple Heart for it.
The Purple and the Bronze, no doubt with combat V for valor.
Nice work. Thanks for writing and commenting here. What some people don’t understand who
read the work is that I am not done. I am working on The Seventh Night Second Part on Word right this minute.
So, the first full ten days, or book one, won’t be ready until probably the end of the month or early in January.
I will be sure to let the world, the small one here, know as soon as I am done with the first segment.
And you, of course.
Semper fi,
Jim
I was stationed in the I corp area near the ocean in 67-69. Im wondering just how much spraying went on in my area? (Marble Mountain
All of I corps was sprayed with the shore areas receiving many dumped loads when certain amounts were placed inland and
there was leftover Agent Orange. That is not form my own experience but from guys who ran those planes and helicopters that write in
to me, so take that with a grain of sand. Makes sense though in a Vietnam sort of way.
Thanks for reading and writing back.
Semper fi,
Jim
Great.. Was in that water a lot , surfin. Also patrols in and around rice paddies there. Small things happening physicall that im trying to blame on age, lol! Thanks for the info, Jim
Yeah. For some reason some of us were pretty impervious to the crap, along with the repellant but so many of our
brothers have been struck down. For the cost of one nuclear submarine or one bomber their problems would all be addressed But this
is not yet that kind of appreciating nation. Instead we get ‘honored’ at strange veterans celebrations.
Semper fi,
Jim
Yeah Jim, a friend of minein the infantry in my area got it in his forearm. The VA didnt acknowledge it as agent orange, but wanted to cut the bone out and replace it with a titanium, or something like that. He opted out, and died a year later , as it spread through the rest of his body. Sad way to go after making your way back home
THIS DENAIL THING IS A BIG DEAL! So many guys and gals are dying of their exposure to what we now know
were deadly poisons or a toxic environment they were put in.
How can the public be sensitized to force the leadership to do anything?
The leadership is, for the most part, men that did not serve in combat and, in fact,
is usually made up of people who avoided that experience.
How to get such men to do anything about the problem when they can assuage their guilt
by avoiding dealing with it is a huge problem.
Semper fi,
Jim
First maps I asked for came with a “no spraying in I Corp. I too was in the area between Marble Mountain and Monkey Mountain and other areas in I Corps ….Hoi An …. Sure to hell….a lie…a few years ago the discovered Orange Stripe barrels in the area of the DaNang Air base. The US could not stop the flood of concern by the troops and the South Viets….The US started paying off the SV claims……we didn’t get anything as they made it look like we had no involvement…..bull shit……more to follow later….
Spot on John. The whole Agent Orange mess has been swept under the rug continuously, with the government
hope that everyone will just get old and die or die of the exposure. Radiation was treated the same way.
If you have not figure it out yet, the U.S. leadership, time after time, will pay trillions to weapons
manufacturers but only pay lip service to the guys and gals who actually have to go.
Thank you!!!
Semper fi
Jim
I was in Long Bien and supported the big red 1 through the iron triangle. !066-68 as a dust off medic. Treating those wound army personnel I was heavily exposed to agent orange and have several problems today because of it. I am 180% disabled because of kidney problems, diabetes, nerve damage to both feet and lower leg and my injured knee which now is a total knee replacement. My outfit was the 45th Dustoff
My brother Mike was with the Big Red One at Bien Hoa and some guy like you saved his life one day.
I got to see him one last time when I was in the hospital at Yokosuka. Thanks for the kind of work you did.
One of my corpsmen saved my life too and then bought it himself. Tough times, back then.
I seem to remain rather immune to the Agent Orange I was submerged in so often in the A Shau, as they tried to
kill all the foliage around the Ho Chi Minh Trail. Thanks for the writing and I sure am sorry to hear about your
health problems. One love, brother.
Semper fi
Jim
JIM, If you were around in 3-4/69 when they hit the ammo dump behind Freedom Hill there was a lot of Agent Orange that exploded in the blast. It rained AO all over the area and probably I-Corp. I have a picture that shows how much was included in the blast. ACCURATE???? I don’t see no way of posting it here but maybe James will have an answer. S/F
2/9 3rd Mar Div Op Dewey Canyon we went on Company size patrol into Laos when Nixon told America we were not there found a Nva r/r camp between two Mountains it was like going back to Cavemen days the Enemy was not there they did not want to mess with the marines we blew the place up and continued chasing them
I was very lucky not to be sucked up by the draft back then. And I recall being furious when they announced the Paris Peace Accords and everyone in America cheered. I knew it was a bullshit government lie and that people would still die.
It is still happening today; different foreign country, different generation, same government lies. So many sacrificed for money and ego. Blessings to you who made it back.
Thank you John. I think Eisenhower had it right when he spoke about the military industrial complex.
It’s about the money. We sent over two trillion to Iraq and afghanistan and
there’s still more going and there is no way to account for almost any of it. Just before the two towers went down Rumsfeld delivered a speech about how 1.5 trillion was missing and not accountable at the Defense Department.
Days later the buildings came down and his speech was shredded and forgotten.
The twin towers had to come down or NY had to be nuked.
Semper fi,
Jim
For I it brings shit back forgotten for years ,good or bad to me it’s worth reading . Thank you sir ! Later Dee
You are most welcome Dee. My pleasure, at least in putting it out, although not always in the writing.
Semper fi,
Jim
Our unit had some internal problems,but in the bush we were all troopers and family, all ego’s and differences melted away.
Glad to read that Trendle. Half the guys at Yokosuka had units like that but so many did not. One helicopter pilot was there with broken legs and hips because his crew tossed him out in mid-air because they thought he flew when he shouldn’t have. Another Naval Gun fire officer was shot in the shoulder and eventually lost his arm. He mistakenly called in short rounds that took out some of the unit he was op/con to. They shot him in the shoulder on purpose, apologizing first! They gave him a ticket home, according to them which I guess it was. Thanks for the comment and the reading.
Semper fi,
Jim
Thank you for continuing to rivet my attention on the ground war. The Cobra cockpit , hiding behind a chicken plate, felt like a much safer environment….at least until the big green balls started coming our way.
I have Prostate, rectal, and kidney cancer, but the VA only recognizes PCa as a presumptive condition from AO exposure. Prayers for all of our brothers exposed……and the big guys all new it was contaminated with Dioxin due to rushing the processing.
Welcome home , and keep a close watch on your health…
God bless,
Bill
Thank you Bill. Yes, all of us exposed have to keep watch and keep talking because the
doctors at the VA get real vague whenever we try to put an emphasis on anything we might be worried about that
does not have an immediate symptom. Plus, those of us exposed do not have a lot of credibility with them. It’s almost
like you’ve got to prove somehow where you were and when you were there and those records suck. They have daily reports today that
do all that but back then, hell, I had Rittenhouse in the field with the daily and he was one guy in the mud and shit with the rest of us.
Thanks for the concern and I am sure sorry about your own situation.
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim, I spent a one year tour at Bien Hoa AB. Bien Hoa was one of three bases that used agent orange for defoliation in the III Corps area. My only advice is that you should schedule an annual physical, scheduled by your health provider & your VA Doctor. The cancer may take years to surface. I was in the best of shape until I reached 78. To make a long story short, After over 40 blood transfusions I was sent to the Cleveland Clinic, none better. The doctor immediately diagnosed me as cancer in my bone marrow; one that can not be treated. So far, I have received 46 chemo treatments. I have a great oncologist. Again, as you get older one’s immune system is not like it was when younger. I fel so sorry for what you & others went through as marines. My grandson is a captain stationed at Le Juene. He was deployed three times as an F18 aviator. He elected to serve in the infantry for two years as a “ground pounder” forward ops observer.
Thank you Pete. Yes, I was suffused with the stuff. We even ate the stuff
because it was all over everything. I will follow your advice, in spite of the fact that
I’m currently in pretty tip-top (seeming) shape. thanks for your concern and the detail in your
very heartfelt and caring comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
LT how’d you make out with getting soaked in all the orange? Hope you’re ok man.
Hey Tony, nobody’s asked that one. All I ended up with were some whited out spots on exposed
skin and mysterious rashes that come and go no matter what they use to get rid of them permanently.
Nothing compared to what some guys have gotten from their own exposure. Fingernails and toe nails have never
been quite right again either. Minor, but bugs me.
Semper fi,
Jim
Have any of us vets had any problem with our children having mental problems due to agent Orang? I have two children who are mentally impaired and I know my family history has none of this occurring. Served in 1968-69 25th infantry.
quite common complaint of so many returning vets following exposure to Agent Orange. The problems with the exposure of
the veterans exposed is dramatic because it is unlikely the authorities that must pay for treatment are going to dump the stuff on top
of test subjects to see how they do in comparison. It covered me for days at a time, mixing with the repellant I put on all the time
and then likely mixed inside me with the malaria pills I was taking. Not to mention having to eat in the areas suffused with the stuff.
Semper fi,
Jim
Unreal James. Makes me even more happy I was in the construction Engineers. Welcome home again.
I love all the guys who made it back without having to die. I don’t care how you got through. It is a pleasure to be
around living people and also not work so closely with people who are going to die around me.
The guys in combat you don’t think of as friends or brothers when you are in the shit. That comes later and
the regret of losing them, either to death, terrible wounds or because you simply never find them again is damned tough.
Welcome back!!! And thank you for speaking your mind here.
Semper fi,
Jim
I read each post with a fascination scares the shit out of me. I wonder what I would have done in your boots. I can never come up with anything different from what you did. I never served in the military but have always had great love a respect for those who did and do. The hair on my neck stands up and chills run down my neck each time you make a move. I expect each one to be your last. Like a train wreck you can’t help but watch I await your next part to read. I can’t not read it.
No higher praise for the writing Russell. I’m not so sure at all in retrospect that I did the right things.
Yes, I survived but in what shape physically and mentally to this day. I did not walk through that valley and then
fly home to assume my former life. Hell, I was in five hospitals for more than a year and then in and out for two more.
And nobody thought anything about the fact that I was a little bit mentally out there, either. I really appreciate the comment
and the thoughts.
Semper fi
Jim