It was full dark by the time the Gunny departed for the old air field with two full platoons and parts of the other two. I’d made a deal with the devil to get back a dead body which went against all logic but for no good reason I could think of made a strange sense to me. The man had put in, and the man’s body was going to get out. Either we got him across the river in the dark or that was it, because there would be no evacuation come dawn. The daylight would make it too potentially expensive to put a chopper down on the other side of the river without full time fire support on and from both banks of the river. And that was not going to happen unless the other companies in the battalion really were racing to reinforce my own company’s situation, which I now knew was not in the cards.
I crouched down with a can of ham and mothers. The food was there, and my hands moved to guide the metal fork I carried in my little belt case, but I could only go through the motions of eating. I chewed and tried to swallow, but it wasn’t working. I brought the can down and stared at it in the vague twilight darkness. I looked over toward the river and noticed that it had a very faint and unmoving iridescence to it. The water was moving fast because I could hear it, but the faint glow just hung there like there were strange dim lightbulbs deep under the water.
Eating was a function necessary for strength and endurance. I had to eat. But I knew what the problem was. I had to know if Tex was alive. I was risking a lot of Marines to find out if Tex was alive. I so wanted him to be alive. The corpsman could have been wrong. The Gunny might have abandoned him because it was too dangerous to stay on the other bank without direct fire support or reinforcement. My mind roiled with possibilities because every time I tried to consign Tex to being dead I couldn’t do it. The Marines around me were supporting the badly designed plan because they believed it was how Marines should act, which was kind of astounding all of itself. In reality, however, I was taking them on a dangerous expedition because of my own personal inability to let Tex go.
It was time. I called for Zippo to set up the Starlight Scope. The conditions were perfect for the device, although, since it wasn’t truly usable when moving, it could only serve to lay out the exact course of the move across the river and possibly assure that nobody else was about in the night.
After only a few minutes of viewing it was evident that there was nothing moving in the darkness except the water. The mist had retreated and the cloud cover that dropped it pulled back and piled above the distant mountains, like a used and rumpled tablecloth. I stared at the spot where I knew Tex’s body had to be, but it wasn’t there. I pulled back from the scope to rub my eye before going at it again. Finally, I found him. His feet were no longer dangling in the water, and he was laying on his back rather than his stomach. There was no more detail available because of the low light and how the scope began to fragment scenery if it was too far away. Tex did not move, but, except for the lapping water at his feet, he hadn’t been moving the first time either. The Gunny was much more than likely right about his being dead, and I knew it from a calculated risk standpoint, but there was another point. I’d somehow survived with the company for two weeks, and I’d pushed the very edge of luck’s envelope to do it. How much farther was I going to be able to go unless at some very near point in time the company came to accept me and do more than let me live at its discretion? I knew now, however, that all commanders survived with some sort of discretion from their men in real combat. The rest of believed discipline and behavior was all media hype, Hollywood mythology or training nonsense.
The clouds were unfolding and moving back over the scene when I finally handed the scope back to Zippo. There would be no working into the light of dawn because the enemy was sitting up there on the western high ground, just waiting for new targets to appear on that open field of fire where Tex lay. The plan had to be executed in complete darkness, and that was going to be a challenge all by itself in spite of the enemy. I knew if I lost Marines in a plan to bring back a dead Army officer that I was toast with the Gunny and the company. If I brought him back and there were no losses, then different decisions would have to be made about me and what I was trying to do. I didn’t know what those differences would be but I knew I needed to have them in my life to continue to have a life.
“I need Jurgens, Sugar Daddy and the rest of the team, here and now,” I ordered Stevens. Mist was again falling from the sky. I reflexively looked upward but could see nothing in the sky. It was stygian black and therefore a friend to my plan, unless one of us fell into the torrent of water and was lost down the river folds heading south into enemy territory and almost certain death.
I waited while the men gathered around me. Jurgens and Sugar Daddy came with their Marines. I couldn’t see most of them, but I knew they were all there. I hadn’t expected all of them. I was heartened by what I felt was some kind of group support but I also was still afraid of most of them, and I was going to be going straight out into the dead darkness in front of them. Tex was dead. I knew it in my heart of hearts because it was impossible to believe that neither the Gunny nor the corpsman would have left him over there, alone and alive. But I had to know down in my core, and I could only find that out for certain one way.
“We set up two bases of fire,” I said, it being too dark to draw a diagram, and there was no chance I was going to turn on my flashlight, no matter how weak the batteries. “One just north of the bridge and the other just south. Both will direct any fire to the high ground on the west here, and nobody will fire unless we’re fired upon.”
“They’re going to know,” Jurgens said, nodding sagely, before blowing out some cigarette smoke.
“The darkness should give us all the cover we need,” I replied, mildly irritated but also realizing I had no plan if the two platoon commanders would not commit their men.
“The phosphorescence thing,” Jurgens went on, in a bored tone, like anybody could see that there was indeed some light coming from the river itself.
“Not enough light from up on that hill to shoot accurately,” I responded, keeping my tone under control.
“They know we’ll be back for the body,” Sugar Daddy chimed in. “It’s kinda what we do, I mean when we can and they know it.”
I knew from their tone that the two sergeants were having as much trouble working together as they were in participating at all, although they seemed to be able to put their differences aside to go against me, which wasn’t all bad. It just might prove bad for the mission of getting Tex back before the light made it much less likely or impossible. The Skyraiders would be back. I just knew it. Cowboy, Jacko, and Hobo were like giant riders of old angry birds and they’d somehow adopted me and my outcast company. I had no idea about how air missions were assigned but somehow I knew they’d figure out a way to come no matter what. But even the Skyraiders could only provide fleeting cover as they came in. There was no way they could saturate anything like the huge area the western bank along the river represented, however. We either got Tex out in the night or he wasn’t coming out.
I realized there was going to be nothing further accomplished by arguing with either Jurgens or Sugar Daddy. In spite of my rank, and whatever standing I had with the company, it was useless to order them to provide bases of defensive and supporting fires. I couldn’t even assure that they would remain in the area, and everyone knew that, including me.
“Fusner, you stand by near the base of the bridge in case we need commo. Stevens, you take a position with Zippo near the end of the bridge. I’m going over with Nguyen and get Tex. Hopefully, the two of you can pull the three of us back across against the current. We’re only going to get one shot at this.”
Nobody said anything. I felt warm rage building inside me. My right hand eased down to the butt of Tex’s Colt .45 and wrapped itself around the cold metal of the protruding butt. I felt the fine serrations a gunsmith had carefully carved into it, unlike the smoothly worn butt of my old Colt. It was a great gun. I was going to get Tex, and if it took expending every round in the Colt’s magazine then that’s what I was ready to do. I just wished that I’d had a chance to see how many rounds were actually in the gun. “William Headsmith” was carefully etched into the metal of the gun’s slide assembly, not far from its front edge. “Brattleboro, N.H.” was carved neatly under that in smaller letters. I didn’t need to review the writing on the gun. I knew I would never forget it. Tex wasn’t even from Texas, which seemed to go along with his phony southern accent. The knowledge only made me feel worse about his loss.
I felt more than actually seeing Nguyen. Somehow, the slight glitter of his eyes reached out through the misty gloom. He’d positioned himself just behind where Jurgens and Sugar Daddy were crouched down. I wondered if anybody else knew he was there. There was no reason for the warm feeling of confidence that came over me in seeing him, but it was there.
“Move out,” I said, ignoring Jurgens and Sugar Daddy since although I’d laid out what I thought their squads should do I hadn’t gotten far in either detailing where they would set up or even if they would set up.
If the men did nothing in response to my order, then I knew I would shoot Jurgens first. It just made sense. Then I’d shoot Sugar Daddy, and the night would turn into a close-up and extremely violent charnel house. I was going for Tex. The decision was made.
All the Marines around me got to their feet at once, leaving me the only one crouching in the mud. I slowly stood up, surprise overcoming me as I tried to figure out what was going on.
“Okay, then,” Jurgens said, in a loud whisper. “We’ll set up north of the bridge and you take the south, as far down as you think is safe. If they open up, then we’ll open up back. If they move their fire toward us, then you open up on them from the other position. We’ll go back and forth like that, as required.”
They were going to go along with the plan. A long-held breath came easing out of my lungs. The plan might work. They might still shoot me, or I might shoot them, but whatever was happening was a start. A start of what I really didn’t know.
“There’s no way two guys can pull three against that current,” Sugar Daddy said, apparently agreeing to being told where he would set up his base of fire position by the man he hated most in the company.
“Yeah, so, what’s your plan?” Jurgens asked, both men making believe I wasn’t there.
“We both go out on the bridge,” Sugar Daddy responded. “Both together. Our squads don’t need us to shoot back at anybody. The four of us can pull them in and besides, it’s gonna take more than two guys to haul Tex’s body across that bridge once he’s out of the water. He’s a big guy. Anybody goes in that water is dead.”
“What’s this plan called, Fusner?” Jurgens asked.
“Tossing the dice,” Fusner said.
“No shit,” Jurgens replied. “Wouldn’t ‘lucky seven’ or something been better?”
“We’ll see, I guess,” Sugar Daddy added, “after the dice are thrown.”
“They’re gonna see us, and they’re going to shoot at us, Junior,” Jurgens said, turning while he spoke the words, and lowering his voice so nobody else would hear.
“Then why are you going?” I asked, in the same low tone, my question blurted out without really thinking about it. Jurgens and Sugar Daddy were doing what I needed, I realized, just after I asked the question. All I could do was screw that up by saying or asking anything more.
“I don’t see nobody else,” Jurgens replied, “we all know you’re going over there so what the hell.”
“Zippo?” I inquired, as softly as I thought I could and still be heard.
“Yes, sir?” Zippo replied, from just behind me.
“Haul the starlight scope along. You can lay on the bridge, since we’ll have plenty of manpower, and see what’s going on so the rest can be ready. We won’t be able to hear anything over the sound of the water but if you can see us then you can pretty much figure out what needs to be done.”
“Got it, sir,” Zippo said.
It was good to hear the word, sir, even though I’d become accustomed to not being called by that title.
I’d have Zippo and Stevens on the bridge to give me some kind of feeling of security because Jurgens and Sugar Daddy would be right there too. The night, the mist and river might cover a whole lot of evil, but unless Jurgens or Sugar Daddy or both were willing to kill everyone around them they would probably not take me out while I was trying to get back to the bridge.
It took only moments to reach the base of the bridge, sunken deep into the mud and sand just out from the bank. It wasn’t difficult to get up on the thing but it was no easy task either. The structure had moved further out into the current which would bring its other end closer to the far shore, but It would also make any quick exit back onto the near bank much more dangerous and slower.
I was re-invigorated by the rushing water. The phosphorescence was apparent but not bright, and I didn’t really think from a distance it made us more visible. I was only halfway across, sliding along on my belly before those thoughts were dispelled. A lone automatic weapon opened up, and green tracers shot over my head. I hugged the cool steel surface of the serrated track. I heard our supporting M-60’s open up, but I couldn’t tell which base of fire the rounds were heading out from.
Sugar Daddy and Jurgens were just in front of me. Zippo, Fusner, and Stevens had gone out first, but not before Nguyen, of course. None of us out on the bridge had any choice but to ignore the incoming fire. Those in front crawled and I crawled right behind them. I thought I was bringing up the rear until I felt something hit my boot. I stopped and craned my head back. There was someone there.
“It’s me, Lance Corporal Jones, sir,” a voice said.
“you’re black as coal back there corporal,” I said, squinting my eyes to try to see him better.
“Yes, sir, I’m all of that,” Jones replied.
I hadn’t been referring to the man’s race, but I knew under other circumstance the misunderstood comment would be considered funny, but there was no laughing in the predicament we were in.
“I had to come, sir,” Jones said.
“I understand,” I replied, turning back to pay attention to making forward progress.
I didn’t understand but there was nothing to be done about it.
The sporadic gunfire continued but didn’t increase in volume. Every time there was fire from the hill the company bases of fire would respond, and there’d be a short period of quiet.
I slid by Jurgens on my way to the front edge of the bridge. “You were right,” I said, as I went by.
“Yeah, I know,” he laughed. “But I didn’t say they could hit anything. It’s dark, so they can shoot but they can’t see. Close only works in hand grenades.”
I didn’t laugh back. What he said made sense, but didn’t give much comfort every time another string of flaming green lanterns flew over my head.
I got to where the rope was tied off.
“Nguyen’s already over there,” Stevens said, rolling back to let me through. I checked myself before grabbing hold and slipping over the edge. I was only worried about the .45, with its slim leather retaining strap and obviously weak snap. But I could not leave the gun behind. I thought about Tex’s full holster but it was on the other side and the safety advantages of the flap were outweighed by the speed of getting to the weapon if the need for it was great.
I eased into the cool water, the speed of it going by taking me by surprise again. The current was fast and heavy. I was pulled downstream and had to head toward the shore slipping my hands along, one at a time, instead of going hand over hand as I’d planned. It took five minutes to cross the less than twenty-foot distance. When I got across I immediately checked the .45. It was there. I rolled over and crawled face down toward where Tex’s body had to lay. Nguyen being Nguyen had not waited at the end of the rope. He was gone and I was seemingly alone in the night. The enemy fire remained concentrated in the area surrounding the bridge, although not seeming to actually hit the huge imposing structure of the thing. Not that I could hear. I’d already learned that there were no ricochets in real combat situations but there was always plenty of loud sounds without them.
I was cool and I was clean, and I was headed for Tex, as long as I stayed close to the rushing water. It was a longer crawl than I thought it would be, mostly because the runnels running down into the river from the not too distant cliff face were soft flowing but fairly deep. I came out of one of them big enough to be considered a stream back at home and ran right into Nguyen. He’d stationed his body broadside to my progress, with his head facing the river.
“Nguyen,” I whispered, afraid of speaking loud enough to draw fire to our side of the river.
Nguyen turned his head until I could see his big shining eyes. He shook his head twice. It was another confirmation of what I was afraid of. I’d rather that the Gunny and the corpsman had left Tex alive to flee for their own safety, but I’d known from the beginning that neither man was built that way. I eased around Nguyen and approached Tex on my stomach. I saw immediately that his eyes were wide open, and shining even brighter than Nguyen’s own. His tongue was hanging out to the side and his chest was not moving. It was dark and anything can be anything in the dark, particularly with little sleep. I moved closer until I was inches away. I put my hand out and then I knew for certain. He was cold. His body was as cold as the passing water rushing by behind me.
Nguyen jerked to his knees and I came to full alert, my Colt unsnapped and in my hand in only seconds. My right thumb rested gently on the safety but I didn’t push down. ‘Blacker than the night’ Jones had appeared, his visage visible only because of the phosphorescence of the water.
“What the hell?” I whispered.
“Jurgens said I could come, sir,” Jones said. “He said you’d need help because of the mud and that I was a throwaway, anyway.”
“What did Sugar Daddy say?” I inquired. “He’s your platoon commander. He’s right there on the bridge too.”
“Not anymore,” Jones replied. “They had an argument. He’s going back to join the company at the airstrip, and we have to meet up with him there.”
“What?” was all I could get out, my eyes going back to Tex’s.
“What was the argument about?” I asked, my tone going so low I was surprised that Jones answered.
“It was about you, sir. Sergeant Jurgens said he was following you and not the Gunny anymore. Sugar Daddy’s going with the Gunny. I want to be like Zippo and get out of the platoon, so maybe I can be a scout too.”
“Shit,” I said, no longer whispering. If Sugar Daddy was headed back, then we’d just lost one base of fire in our defense, and the enemy would know that in short order.
We had to get back and get back quickly. The thought occurred to me at the same time as the NVA directed automatic weapons fire toward our position. There was little chance from the beginning that they wouldn’t know where we were because they’d seen Tex’s body in the daylight. They’d waited until we’d come across the bridge to open up. The bullets came like a sweeping whip weaving along from north to south, and then back and forth a few more times. Jurgens was right I thought, as I buried myself in the mud as deeply as I could, my face so far in that I could barely breathe. I pulled out as the shots faded.
“Jurgens was right,” I said, forcing a thin smile to my dirty lips. “They can’t see, they can only guess.”
Nguyen pulled on the sleeve of my utility blouse before grasping my wrist. He pulled sharply then, and I followed along, to Jones body. The boy’s eyes were open, just like Tex’s. Except he had a dark third eye. He’d taken an AK round between the eyes. The NVA had guessed right.
There was to be no retrieval of Tex’s body, or the boy’s either. I wanted to throw up but could not. I wanted to cry but nothing would come. I could only stare, first at the boy and then at Tex, and then back again. The throwaway boy and the wonderfully fake Texan were gone, just like that.
“We go,” Nguyen said, still holding my wrist, but now pulling me back in the direction we’d come.
“I can’t leave them,” I said, not caring how loud I spoke.
“We go,” Nguyen said, this time putting his face only inches from mine, and hissing the words like some fierce forest predator.
I let him pull me along, but I would no longer crawl. I got to my feet and staggered in tow. Finally, Nguyen got to his own feet and pulled me at a faster clip. I had not checked the boy’s vitals. Some people survived being shot in the head I knew. I tried to look back, but Nguyen jerked me along. I hadn’t even checked Tex’s vitals for myself. I knew both men were dead. I told myself that, whispering the phrase “dead as doornails” mindlessly, over and over. I realized I could go on but only because I was coming back the next day. I didn’t give a tinker’s damn about the fact that it would be daylight. With resupply, 106 rounds for the Ontos, the Skyraiders, and Army chopper pilots I’d get Tex and the boy back or I would die along the side of the Bong Song River deep down in the bottom of the A Shau Valley.
We reached the area across from where the bridge had to be. Nguyen released me and I got down to search for the rope. I couldn’t find it in the water by running my hands up and down the bank. I crawled to the old root it had been secured to and found the knotted end. I tracked the rope out to the water but dread almost overcame me as I began to feel the rope’s lack of tension. The rope was loose. I pulled on it hand over hand until I had the other end in my hands. I knew I was already in shock from what had happened to Jones and Tex. I went deeper into shock, as I realized the rope had been cut. I wanted to cry, but could not. I tried to see the end of the bridge but the darkness and mist were too heavy. I could yell across the rushing water but that would do no good. Jurgens had cut us free and then left the scene, the way I saw it. First, he’d gotten rid of Sugar Daddy. I wondered if he’d killed the rest of my scout team to cover his work. I sat, my legs splayed out with the end of the useless rope in my hands until Nguyen pulled it from me.
Nguyen pushed my forehead with one hand. I rocked back and looked at him. He held the rope up before my eyes but I couldn’t make the end out very well in the poor light.
“No cut,” he said, shaking the end in one hand. “no cut,” he repeated.
I could see the frayed end of the rope because dawn was faintly breaking. Somehow, like magic, the night was gone and the fretful dim glow of early morning jungle life was beginning to spread its rays of fetid wet life all over again. I squinted my eyes and peered across the water through the morning murk. It took almost half a minute for me take in the end of the bridge. I couldn’t see well at all, but I didn’t need any more light to see that bridge was empty. Nguyen and I had been abandoned in the coming open field of fire, two of the living with two of the dead, about to become four.
Jim,
What was the name of the soldier who carried the .45 ? I am from Brattleboro, which is actually in Vermont within spitting distance of New Hampshire. I was also assigned to 326 Engineers during the Desert Storm timeframe.
Joe,
The name mention in the book is fictitious as are the other names
and there are obvious reason as the story unfolds that I won’t divulge.
Thank you for your support.
semper fi,
Jim
I’ve submitted comment on this chapter just so you know I reading and following along.
Don’t know what’s happening to them as I don’t see it posted anywhere.
This is the first one I’ve seen from you JT. So, I don’t know. Checked spam but it was not there.
Thanks for trying and thanks for finally getting through…
Semper fi,
Jim
Anxiously waiting for your next segment. I appreciate your sharing your time in Nam. My time was spent on and off the carriers and in DaNang at our “Spads” (VAW-13) repair facility there and heard first hand from others what they went thru, but your presentation adds color to the deeper emotional feelings of the men who were in the “bush”.
Thank you Bernie. Really appreciate hearing from the guys who were nearby and getting it without
being out in it…and the care and feelings coming back from all of you.
Thanks from me and lot of the other real deal guys and gals who come on here…
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim, Great story always looking forward to the next installment. Drafted in the army July 1969. Almost a Marine at the induction station everyone to my left was drafted in the marines. I spent my time in Germany. A lucky break. I don’t know how I would’ve fared if I went to Nam. Wishing you and your compadres good rendezvous in Kansas.
Pat
Thanks Patrick. You’d have done great in the Nam if you’d lived but the memories
can be a bitch forever after something like that. Thanks for the kind words written on here…
Semper fi,
Jim
I haven’t read any of your books and happened to find this part on Facebook. I was interested to know if the fellow mentioned as “Zippo” had a last name of Smith? The one that I’m familiar with was in the Army and now lives in Thailand.
Thanks for the question but I’ll wait in revealing real names until I am through the three volumes.
I don’t need a whole ton of ‘fact checking’ while I am trying to put it all together…
thanks for your interest though and for writing it on here…
Semper fi,
Jim
LT, you got me all wound up, waiting for the book to come out. I thought my time over there was bad, but hell, I just thought. Hope all of you have a great time in Kansas, over the 4th.
Kansas was wonderful and I appreciate you commenting on it. Wonderful guys and some gals too.
It was a great delight to be in Winfield too where everyone around us was so damned neat.
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim, are you releasing this as you write it? Is it already written? Are you releasing it in 3 volumes…1st ten days…second ten days…third ten days? Can I buy the whole book…all thirty days?
Thanks for your support……Shelton
I have released Fist Ten Days
Writing and posting Second Ten days as being written.
Second ten days probably published in early August.
Too many pages to have One Volume.
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim you brought back some similar although not quite as extreme memories of our 52 day operation in the mountains outside the Ashau 2/327 A co 101’st Abn. I remember having to go back later a day or so to recover our dead from previous fire fights. From your position as a platoon leader a very tough decision. With of course the thought in mind alway’s that we never wanted to leave anybody behind. I also remember the nva wounding our point or slack man pourposefully because they knew that we would make every effort to retrieve them. I certainly hope that you don’t don’t carry the fact that Jones who joined you to retrieve tex was killed. That had to be very hard to deal with. Our platoon sgt. Watson Baldwin one of the best we’d ever had we were like his kids he wouldn’t cry in front of us when one of his boys was killed,but he would go back to the co. cp to let it out. Know that you were doing what you had to do to retrieve some ones Son back home for closiour. God Bless you for your Extremely brave leadership. Semper-Fi Jim have a great together with all the brother’s in Kansas. And thanks for your continued writings brings healing to many vets as of course you know when we got back to the world we had to box it up nobody wanted to hear it.
Thanks Tim for the depth of meaning in your comment. We did have a wonderful time in Kansas
and I met some classic ‘good to go’ types I will stay in contact with. Thanks for the compliment in your words, too…
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim, I have previously made negative comments about your book. This was based on my personal experiences in the Marines in Vietnam in 65-66. I never saw or even heard of a complete disaster of an entire company as the one you were inserted into. Also I could not imagine the complete isolation that the rest of command seemed to have left you in. In my time there were just too many people up and down the chain that were on the net for that to happen. Having said that, I have read your book with great interest. You truly are a gifted writer and your ability to recall is amazing. I have no doubt of your experiences, your bravery and sacrifice. I share many of the same “ghosts” from that place and I wish I had just a bit of your ability to put them to paper. Semper Fi Sir, God bless.
I completely understand Jim. This kind of shit is just not really believable.
When I was in the hospital for all that time and through the surgeries
afterward I had a hard time believing any of it myself.
If only it could have been consigned to a bad dream.
You don’t dream parts of your belt buckle being dug out of your intestines,
though, and then having that piece given to you by a proud surgeon impressed with his work….
and upset enough that it made me throw up.
I got stuck in a throwaway unit sent to die in the worst place they could imagine to send us.
It was a pretty good choice for command because there was no mercy back at command.
They only had one mission and that was not to go out into what they knew was out there in the shit.
Some of the things I went through have been shared by others on here and I have been surprised at
how many guys had really rough tours that were not that dissimilar.
One of the survivors of my company reached me yesterday with a private message not wanting to
be read on here. He said he’d heard of the book from a friend and wondered.
He got the book and knew it was me, and us, what we
went through. It was good to read those few words.
It did happen and and I continue to live with it but I’m better now…
Semper fi, and thanks most sincerely.
Jim
Mr. Strauss,
I’m fascinated with your book. I can’t wait for the remaining days to onfold. Your story has kept me glued to the pages. Thank you for sharing your days in Vietnam. After finishing the 16th day part, I feel that you have taken me with you on such a terrible trip into the Valley of Death. I feel your pain, your tiredness, your anguish, your hopelessness, your loss of your men. This must have been a very difficult thing to write, for the fact that you had to relive those memories. Thank you again for your service and for your bravery in telling your story. I have a few questions. Is the airfield you write about the A Luoi airfield? Did you ever again see the commander that sent you off into this journey?
The commanding general became the base commander of Camp Pendleton,
where I waited to be processed out on disability.
He was the dignitary at the parade they held for me when I was given
my highest award for valor at the base.
He pinned the medal on my chest, probably never knowing it was me
who he willingly tried to send into death.
I said nothing.
Later we worked out next to one another at the base gym. We never talked.
He died of a heart attack a few years back.
Semper fi, and thank you so much for the kind words.
Jim
That is so heavy shit you went through! Luck and the good Lord above! I love your writing! I can only try to imagine what combat would be like. And I know it’s ugly! I work with Marines at Camp Pendleton USMC brig! Good boys who made some mistakes…Ak’s and M-16’s is the only music I heard today. Another good man died today. We’ll bring him home, maybe have a parade. They spray and pray but we shoot straight!
Thanks Dan, much appreciate the kind words here.
Semper fi, and thanks for all you are doing out there…
Jim
LT, these writings are entirely believable to the 10% who are combat Marines. Those of us who have crossed & recrossed the rivers and have climbed & slid back down the greasy mountain trails in the monsoon rain. Those who have heard the bullwhip crack by their ears & know what it meant. Those of us who have embraced the suck believe.
You are the guys I’m writing to. I expect to take some hits and I’ve gotten them.
Thank God not from any of the men I saw combat with or any of the ‘real’ guys like you.
How can regular citizens, even those in the rear (although they had to suspect)
really understand, believe or accommodate what that living hell was?
They can’t do it so they go right at the source.
I knew it when I started so I can handle it.
Thank you though. Means a lot having you guys at my back…
Semper fi,
Jim
I was drafted in 1970, did not see combat, great respect for those that did. I drink coffee with a group of guys my age and older every morning. Ninety per cent have military experience mostly because of the draft. In my children’ s age group probably less than five percent. The younger general population simply do not understand sacrifices that have been made in serving our country. I am a member of our local American Legion rifle team. I’m 69 and I’m the “baby”. Look at the Memorial Day pictures in small town papers all over the country. I know it would never work today but maybe some kind of one year national service requirement would be a good idea.
Thanks Harold for commenting on here with your ideas. I am glad that you did not end up in the Nam.
I’m also glad that you support vets so sincerely. We all thank you!
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim, you open this segment with the only ‘proof, or validation’ of why you were there….at this point, nothing else seems quite real, it could all be a dream, a nightmare for sure, but still a dream…except that “Tex” was there…he was waiting, and he did what he did because he knew you would come for him, one way or the other….you wouldn’t leave him….everything else up to now has been a day to day existence. Oftentimes, moment to moment, not knowing, and sometimes not caring if you lived or died..you just want to have something go right..you don’t expect to live, you are way beyond that hope…but you know that getting Tex is the most important thing in your world right now…it’s the only thing you can actually control…if the others won’t join you…fuck em….feed em beans… and then for the briefest of those ‘moments’…. you had an Allie..”Jones”….out of nowhere…out of the darkness, he came, a young Marine filled with Honor….you were not alone….Semper Fi Lt, would have been proud to serve with you…
Thanks Larry for the usual deep comment backed by lots of logic and farsightedness.
I much appreciate taking my time to go over every word.
Semper fi,
Jim
Had to read 3-4 times to even try to grasp the situation. I don’t know how you made it. A lesser man would have folded by now. Thank You Sir.
Luck played a huge role in all that Mike. I was sure at the time and now I’m certain.
Thanks for the compliment, however, and for writing it on here…
Semper fi,
Jim
Do not remember when I have enjoyed reading a book as much as the one you are writing here. Reading the comments section in like icing on the cake. I hope your July 4 weekend bash in Kansas is a rip roaring success for you, the other Vietnam vets, and others who attend. Wish I could be there as a fly on the wall. Sincere thanks to all who served and endured so much.
Wish you could be there too. It should be interesting and I have no pre-conceived ideas about it at all.
Just looking forward to it. Don’t really know why. Meet some great guys and try not to make an idiot of myself.
Thanks for the words and especially for writing them on here where everyone can see…
Semper fi,
Jim
Hi Jim, Another great read and can’t wait for the next update to the story. I started thinking about these pages and how many who have similar experiences as you often say so here on these chat areas. It got me to wonder, do any of the men you served with ever comment about your story on here? Do you ever talk to any of them? Or was it more along the lines of , I made it out alive and never want to see these guys again? There is always more to the story and I was just wondering your thoughts on this. If you don’t wish to answer that is ok too. Semper Fi sir
One private and one on here. I did not remember their names and I was chagrined by that information.
Both of them spoke highly about my ability to recall and both of them wished me well without wanting to
be recognized. That’s it so far. Thanks for the question. Some of it plays out in the last book, of course,
and then the book after when I detail what it was really like to come home.
Semper fi,
Jim
Glad to hear you got to speak with them all these years later. I kinda guessed that this information might come to pass in the final chapters but glad to hear you managed to connect with some of your men.
Thanks Robert. Not much resolution of anything there. Too much damage.
That I can write at all is probably pretty amazing…
Semper fi,
Jim
If I was writing fiction, Jurgens would come back on the bridge and throw you a new rope, or maybe show up with a fire team in the slick that comes for you. Real is not always as cool as fiction and I don’t have the pencil….so…..I wait to see with everyone else. A great story Jim
Most people are put together seemingly simply but with great complexity. Most
people who end up breaking rules or start out that way are ‘sorry’ they perform in the manner they did.
We are constructed to try to stay within a social perimeter not established by ourselves…so we are
constantly surging against that social order. Thanks for your thoughts about where everything should go.
Semper fi,
Jim
Can I get the book
Yes, Jack, you can get it on Amazon or B&N and the second one should be out in August.
Thanks for the compliment in asking. You can also come to Winfield Kansas and get one at the rendezvous.
Semper fi,
Jim
Happy 50th Anniversary. Go buy Mary some flowers. Write her a letter and don’t forget to write FREE in quotes on the upper right corner corner of the envelope. Use that new pen.
Hippies in Golden Gate Park welcome the Summer of Love on the first day of that season, June 21, 1967.
In 1967, nearly 100,000 free-spirited adventurers congregated in the Haight-Ashbury neighborhood near Golden Gate Park and created some of the era’s most memorable music, art, fashion and literature. Wearing flowers in their hair, people danced in the streets.
22 Americans died that day.
By Carl Nolte
San Francisco Chronicle
Yeah, there was that strange ‘free’ thing, even thought I tried stamps in the beginning to try to collect them.
That didn’t work. Thanks you for the usual depth and meaning in your comment. Much appreciate as I wade on through.
Semper fi,
Jim
Well…Jim…another excellent read!! I think that Nguyen has your back and obviously you made it out…don’t quite understand Jurgens, hopefully he went for help…somehow Jones seemed like so many that died way too young…things just happen in combat that are hard to comprehend after the fact…but like the heart that can’t be unbroken, the psyche can’t be unbroken either…once you have the “knowledge” of combat then you see the world through a different set of eyes…you wonder if it was luck, or skill, or divine intervention that you survived…we were all just scared kids in those days…you were true to yourself in going back after Tex and your leadership was the “lead from the front” type that would make men follow you…Nguyen knew from the first few days…that is why he has your back…Sorry about Harvey…it’s hard to lose old friends…I didn’t mean to ramble…as usual, I anxiously await your next segment.
I wonder what kind of a guy I really was. I don’t think we are formed yet by 23. I think we are most reacting to
life based upon whatever foundation we’ve managed to paste together in the preceding years. Then Vietnam. Then the company.
Then the violence and death and popping out of it to come back to this make believe place. Wow. What was I and what did I
become. I guess that’s what the writing is all about. That I’ve been able to make it as a writer at all is still hard to believe,
once I learned that only about one percent of writers overall make any money…much less a living. There is no predicting
accurately but plenty of predicting to be made. There I was and here I am. Thanks for the cogent and well thought out comment Mark, as usual.
Semper fi,
Jim
Well, I don’t think we are totally formed at 23 but you obviously had core morals that were above most in your unit. You were on a constant roller coaster ride of the shit hitting the fan and you or someone else saving your bacon. I will agree with an earlier comment that you had no luck at all. My brother always said the same of me…he said that I could fall in a pool full of boobs and come out sucking my thumb…sorry for the crudeness but just thought I would try to make you smile…so much for cogence…
I wish I knew what ‘core morality’ was because I sure did not feel like I had much of it over there. I was
either killing someone, getting someone killed or thinking about it all the damned time!
Thanks for the kind words, thoughts and writing them on here…
Semper fi,
Jim
I guess my thought on your “core morality” was because you went back to get Tex. Not everyone would have done that, especially at the great risk that it was. Just a testament to your leadership and “brother looking after brother” attitude. That was all there was back then…since it was hard to know what your were fighting for…you went thinking you were fighting for your country, honour, an so forth…but it all just came down to survival…for you and your men…hope you have a grand time over the 4th…I will honour you and all vets in absentia