I went to work on my stuff, just outside the exposed rock area where the choppers had come in. The area wasn’t that large, having hardly the footprint of an average small home back in the real world. The jungle that sprung up right near its edge looked like it could have been put together by a Hollywood set-building team. The Gunny finished his coffee and headed back into the bracken. I presumed he was going to talk to Jurgens and Sugar Daddy. I couldn’t think of anyone I would like to see less of, but then the three officers getting their stuff together at the edge of the stone landing zone came into focus. Rittenhouse was taking notes among them, and the supplies, while some of the company Marines were going through them.
Fusner caught my attention with a small wave of one hand that he held down near his waist. I frowned, thinking he might be ready to shove the radio handset at me. From behind him stepped Nguyen, who stopped and seemed to be waiting for something.
“What does he want?” I asked Fusner.
“Oh, well, it seems that the new officers don’t want him as a scout,” Fusner said, squatting down while he talked.
Nguyen squatted with him, both men looking me straight in the eyes.
“They don’t trust indigenous gooks, or so Stevens said,” Fusner whispered, as if there was someone around to hear or care if they did hear.
“So, I have my scout team back,” I said with a big sigh. I didn’t mention that my scout team was one seventeen-year-old kid and a local Montagnard that didn’t speak English.
“How are we supposed to talk to him?” I asked, in exasperation, knowing Fusner would not be able to answer the question, but letting my frustration force me to ask it anyway.
“Sign language,” Fusner said, with a big smile. He turned to Nguyen and made an okay sign with his right hand, and then pointed at me. Nguyen held up one finger before closing his fist again.
“He says you are number one,” Fusner said, laughing, before pointing out to where the new officers were having Stevens build their hooches. Stevens was hunting around trying to find some way to put pegs into the hard stone.
Nguyen flashed ten fingers up very briefly. I didn’t need Fusner to translate the hand sign. Number one was the best, in pidgin Vietnamese, and number ten the worst. I knew some of Nguyen’s differential analysis was based on the fact that I’d already survived for ten days and the other guys were FNGs. Some but probably not all.
Stevens looked back at us and beckoned with one arm. Nugyen took off at a trot. He knelt by Steven’s side, and then got up and loped back.
Nguyen went to work brushing the jungle cover from atop the ever present, but mostly dried up mud beneath. He drew two small circles far apart. He connected them with a line forming a long arc. Then he put a big “X” next to one circle, and pointed out where the officers were getting set up.
I looked out at them and then back at the diagram. While I was thinking, the back of my mind marveled at the officers bringing full canvas shelter-halves to the bush. Shelter-halves were like partial tents, but weighed about three times more than the simple structures we generally made using ponchos. I knew it was unlikely that they planned to carry the equipment themselves when the company had to move.
Suddenly, I stood up.
“Shit, I got it,” I said to Fusner, looking down at Nguyen with even more respect. “We’ve got to get away from here. Come on, we’re moving deeper into the bush. I don’t give a shit about the perimeter or the enemy that might be there.” I began to quickly gather my things.
The Gunny showed up, stepping out of the jungle like he’d been close by all along, or been called.
“What’s going on?” he asked, staring out at the supply pile being worked over, and the new officers standing around and looking out into the A Shau valley.
“Registration point,” I said, throwing my stuffed pack over my right shoulder and carrying my binoculars in my free hand. “The landing zone is pre-registered for range. Stevens and Nguyen spotted the marks on the stone.”
“That’s gotta be for mortars,” the Gunny said, “but we don’t have any infantry around here, at least not that we know of. It’s quiet as a church, except for a bit of wind, and that valley is good six miles across, maybe more. We’re out of range of their stuff.”
NVA Long Gun, barrel is long, thin, low angle shot, which could allow a range of 27.5 km when used to increase the range artillery, muzzle velocity large indirect fire capability
“Out of range for the 105s. Howitzers have way less range than cannons. The NVA have 122mm long guns,” I replied, beginning to work my way into the denser part of jungle. “Those things reach out to seventeen, sometimes eighteen miles. That lovely open area of rock is registered and everyone in the world can see us. The only reason we got away with the resupply is because they didn’t know we were coming, but they sure as hell know now.”
“Junior,” the Gunny said to my departing back.
I stopped, and waited.
“Aren’t you going to tell them?” he asked.
“I’m not in the command structure,” I said, not turning to face him. “I’m staff. Forward observer. That’s it.”
“We can’t just leave them out there like that,” he replied.
“A man’s got to do what he thinks is best,” I said, wondering about whether the Gunny was right. But, was it my responsibility to warn Rittenhouse and the new officers? I knew in my bones that Stevens was out of there too. The wily scout knew how to weasel his way out of danger, rather than confronting it directly though. He’d probably figure it out. There was always the chance that the NVA wouldn’t fire on the location, as well.
“You can’t kill officers just because you don’t like them, Junior,” the Gunny said, his voice low.
I finally turned, lowering my pack to the jungle matt at my feet. I looked the Gunny straight in the eyes.
“What am I, the example? You didn’t kill me because you didn’t like me, so I shouldn’t do that either?” I asked.
“I still don’t like you,” the Gunny said, and I knew from his expression he meant it.
“What do you want of me, Gunny?” I asked, my shoulders slumping. “You want me to order you to go tell them that they’re as ignorant as they are?”
“You’re an officer, when it’s all said and done,” he replied, his eyes unblinking. “They’re officers, like you, except they haven’t been lucky enough to run the table for ten days.”
The Gunny hiked off, his own pack bobbing behind him. He didn’t head back out to the exposed area. I knew he was leaving it to me, and I resented him deeply for that. I was only a commander when the shittiest jobs had to be done, and only an officer if it meant someone had to be blamed for something.
“Come on, Fusner,” I ordered, letting go of my pack and heading back. “I’m not doing this one alone, but there’s no reason for Nguyen to risk his ass. Sign him somehow to stay here.”
Fusner held one hand up to Nguyen, with his two smallest fingers bent while spreading the other three. Nguyen sat down atop my pack to wait. I walked toward the landing zone, wondering why I was complimented by the Montagnard sitting on my stuff, and also wondering how Fusner knew so much about hand signs, and Nguyen too.
We got within five ten feet of the group before anyone noticed us. Rittenhouse looked over one shoulder from the supply pile, and said “sir,” when he noted my approach. I looked the young man in the eyes, feeling strangely detached. It was like I was in chemistry class looking at an interesting specimen, except none of those had been alive. He looked away, and then back. I bent my head a bit to one side in examining him from top to bottom, my expression turning to one of question. Who was this boy and why was he in my life?
Rittenhouse backed up four or five paces but I didn’t move.
“What is it Junior?” Captain Casey asked.
“You’re making camp on an artillery registration point,” I indicated, pointing at the strange carvings on a chunk of nearby stone. “The 122mm rounds from NVA guns can reach out all the way from Laos, across this valley. The mark means that they’ve fired on this position many times before and know exactly where it is.”
“I know what a registration point is, lieutenant,” Casey replied, his tone one of irritation. “I don’t know why any of this should be of concern to you.”
I took a long deep and slow breath. “It’s not really, except I know artillery, and with Rittenhouse being killed with you I’ll have to write the letters home about how you died.”
“You know, Junior, you have a real smart mouth.” Casey said, glaring at me. “What Basic Class were you in, and who in hell was your battalion commander back there?”
I just looked at all three of the officers and waited. Rittenhouse seemed frozen in place next to the supplies, his pencil not moving on his upraised clip board.
After a few seconds of the sound being the wind coming up over the edge of the cliff the captain spoke again.
“There may be some merit to the registration thing,” the captain agreed, after conferring for a few seconds with his two lieutenants. We’ll move over to the edge of the LZ.”
“The company’s moving half a click inland and setting up a perimeter, “I replied. “You may want to be inside it when darkness comes.” I turned to go.
“The company moves when I order it to move, Junior,” Captain Casey said, his voice going hard again.
“I understand, sir, and you have that right,” I replied, knowing I was going to walk away in a few seconds no matter what else was said. Any inbound artillery would not announce itself. No ranging rounds were needed in firing on a pre-registered target, and the rounds would be traveling beyond the speed of sound.
They might even already be in the air, I realized uncomfortably. I looked beyond the clumped officers, and out over the valley, as if I might be able to see something coming in.
“You’re aware, of course, since you’ve obviously been briefed, how the officers who served before me died.”
The captain pointed down at my left hand, where my binoculars dangled.
“Let me have those,” he ordered, holding out his hand.
I reluctantly handed the Japanese instrument over. My need for them, as long as we remained up on the ridge high on the wall of the valley, would be greater than it had ever been if I had to call in artillery support.
“You’re dismissed,” Captain Casey said, turning back to stare out through the binoculars over the wide expanse of the valley to its other side.
I left the four of them standing there. I’d followed the Gunny’s advice, against my better judgment, and felt no better about having warned them, even as minimally as I had. I walked fast, almost breaking into a run. I passed one stack of boxed ammunition, mostly gone through, and the other of C-ration cases and water bottles. I hefted a box of C-rations from the stack Rittenhouse had been accounting for.
“Put that on my account, Corporal,” I yelled over my shoulder, to where Rittenhouse had retreated to from the center of the landing zone. “Put it down with the rest of the stuff we’ll go over later.”
I moved away from the area as fast as I could, with the heavy case of C-rations on my shoulder. I didn’t know what circular error probable was for a Soviet 122mm round but a slew of them coming in would have to take out anyone alive. There was no cover on the open rock area.
By the time I rejoined Fusner and Nguyen, my hooch was up and waiting. I plopped the extra box of rations down next to Fusner’s poncho liner. I noted the company forming and setting in around us, all of them moving deeper into the jungle. Our position, about a thousand meters in form the lip of the ridge should be sufficient unless the NVA had a competent forward observer with a decent radio lurking nearby. I was fast discovering, however, that trained forward observers were about as rare in the field as decent company grade officers were serving in the chain of command.
I laid on my poncho liner and tried to rest, before taking some of my ratty stationary from my pack and beginning a second letter home. The beauty of the A Shau Valley was the substance of the body of the letter, and I didn’t have to lie about that at all. Completing that task, I went about setting up defensive fires on the west side of the perimeter, in case the night was active with NVA troops coming from that direction. I knew their commanders would be suffering from the two past run-ins they’d had with our company and Kilo.
Fusner leaned near, his too-close hooch almost touching my own.
“Where’d you leave the binoculars?”
“The new C.O. is keeping them for me,” I replied, not looking up from my map, while continuing to make small notations with my grease pencil on its plastic covered surface.
The Gunny forced his way noisily through the foliage, and squatted down to make coffee, not far from where my left boot stuck out from where I lay on one side trying to work with the map and marker. I only looked up when two more Marines came straggling along behind him. I sat up and put away my map very quickly, and then turned to face the men with both hands free.
The two Marines were Jurgens and Sugar Daddy, but neither looked like either man had looked before. Jurgens’ face was a study in saddened worry and Sugar Daddy looked entirely different without his flattened bush hat and purple sun glasses. Neither man had brought along bigger enlisted men to serve as protection or for intimidation. They were so non-threatening that my hand did not automatically fall to sit atop the butt of my Colt. Both men scrunched down by the Gunny, who was busy heating his water.
Suddenly two more Marines appeared from behind Fusner. It was Stevens and Zippo. They stood uneasily at the radioman’s side.
“Aren’t you supposed to be with the C.O.?” I asked, looking upward to Stevens. I was putting off the coming confrontation with the two former platoon commanders and I knew it.
“He said to go scout something, so we’re scouting this location,” Steven replied, as both men settled down to squatting positions.
“What do they want?” I asked the Gunny, who was working on sipping at his coffee with one hand and smoking a cigarette with the other.
“What do you think?” the Gunny said, not looking at me or the two former commanders.
“I’m not the C.O. here, but then they know that,” I said, although my curiosity was piqued.
“So what is it?”
“What do we do?” Jurgens broke in.
I noted that he didn’t use the name Junior in talking to me, plus the tone of his voice was actually almost polite.
“What do I get?” I asked, almost enjoying myself, not really expecting an answer.
Jurgens and Sugar Daddy looked at one another for a few seconds, and then both looked at the Gunny, as did I.
“They’ve been to the A Shau before,” the Gunny said. “A number of times, like me.”
“Yes, I’ve heard,” was all I could think to respond.
“We’re going to get hit tonight,” Jurgens said, his voice quiet and low. “They’re going to hit us from the west on the ground while the arty shit comes pouring into the landing zone in the east. We got nowhere to go except maybe down into the broken valleys on both sides, and they’ve probably mined those years back.”
“Why would they hit us tonight?” I asked.
“Ask your ‘yard’ over there,” Sugar Daddy said, pointing at Nguyen, who squatted just beyond our circle. Nguyen allowed no expression to cross his facial features. I looked at him, and he blinked.
“Okay, so we know that,” I agreed, part of my mind already beginning to design a plan to handle the expected attack.
“You’re right in the middle here,” Jurgens pointed out. When they hit you’ll be among the first to go down.”
I looked at the man, wondering why he’d terrified me for so many days and nights. He didn’t look terrifying. He looked like a tough kid on a high school playground, which he was not long from being on.
“So, for this warning you want something,” I stated, flatly. “What in hell am I supposed to do?”
“The Gunny said you did that Chesty trick,” Jurgens said, looking down at nothing in front of him. “We need a trick like that to get through, and we want to be the leaders of our platoons again. Breaking up the platoons won’t work. The guys won’t do it, and there’ll be nobody to fight the NVA tonight.”
I massaged both thighs with my hands. They weren’t shaking but I didn’t want to take a chance of showing weakness in front of the two dangerous predators. My left hand clutched my two letters home and my right the deadly morphine packet. I had to come up with something but I had nothing. I was now more of a nobody officer in the company than I had been before. With Rittenhouse writing the daily report, added on to by the three real officers, I was likely to end up in Leavenworth if I somehow lived through my tour. I thought of the magnificent cliff I’d stood next to once again and how far down the cliff face extended. A kernel of inspiration ignited in my brain, fanning itself into a fire, the more focus I gave it.
“Okay, here’s what you get back,” I said, clearing the bracken in front of me until I had a small section of flat mud to work on. I smoothed it with my hands, and then reached in my pocket for my cheap government pen. I didn’t click it to allow the point to be exposed.
“First, you two go back to your platoons and ignore the captain’s orders,” I instructed. “Run your platoons just like before. If the new lieutenants show up, you ignore them. You’re good at doing that to new officers. What are they going to do, make you go down into the A Shau?” I thought about the rest of my developing plan for a moment.
“Well, what about the attack?” the Gunny asked, as if reading from my special script.
“We’ll use the King Kamehameha plan,” I said, quickly leaning forward and making a drawing on the mud in front of me. I drew an elongated oval around the landing zone, then a rectangular box running back and forth across the swell of mountain edge we were currently on. Finally, I drew arrows running outside and back and forth from and to the rectangle, reserving one giant arrow for the incoming sweep of the NVA that would attack from the jungle toward the landing zone.
“Soon to be King Kamehameha used this to capture Oahu and become the King of the Hawaiian Islands. He had his troops make believe that they were trapped between his bigger enemy and a giant cliff edge. The enemy thought they had him. But in the daytime Kamehameha allowed his forces to sneak away to each side and when the enemy attacked right up the center of where they thought his forces were Kamehameha had his men drive them over the edge of the cliff.” I looked up and pulled back from my diagram with obvious enthusiasm.
“Pushed them over the cliff?” the Gunny asked, skeptically. “The NVA have AK-47’s, not spears.”
King Kamehamha was a Hawaiian king. He conquered most of the Hawaiian Islands, formally establishing the Kingdom of Hawaiʻi in 1810. By developing alliances with colonial powers, Kamehameha preserved Hawaiʻi’s independence. Kamehameha is remembered for the Kānāwai Māmalahoe, the “Law of the Splintered Paddle”, which protected the human rights of non-combatants in time of war.
“Oh that,” I said. Their artillery’s going to open up and then walk itself right into where they think we are. But we’ll be holding them there from the sides. We’ll force them right into their own artillery barrage since it’s not likely they have a forward observer with a radio that’ll reach out that far. Finally, we come in right behind them with our own artillery. It’s perfect.”
I waited as everyone present sat thinking. I had no idea of when or even if the NVA would use their artillery. I also had no idea about whether we would be attacked from the exposed western flank located at our front. Finally, it was a complete toss up about how the new officers would react to being told to go screw themselves. That last part forced a grim smile out of me.
“You heard the man,” the Gunny instructed, rising to his feet and snapping his cigarette into the bush. “Junior has a plan.”
In seconds the only Marines left at my hooch opening were Fusner, Nguyen and the Gunny.
“Get the hooches moved,” I ordered Fusner. “We want to be a bit down that northern slope before the fun begins.”
Fusner went to work, while the Gunny finished cleaning out his canteen holder.
“What were you thinking there, when you smiled?” he asked me, quietly. “About Rittenhouse?”
I didn’t answer his question, as there was no point. My mind was already on the other problem I knew I was going to have before sundown. Captain Casey wasn’t going to like implementing any plan that wasn’t his own, and his two officer lackeys might become difficult to deal with. “Flank security. Part of the price is that these two clowns send out patrols to find out what’s down there, where we have to go,” I said. “If it’s mined, we have to know.”
“They’re not going to like that,” the Gunny replied. “Who are they supposed to send?”
“FNG’s, of course,” I said, flinching inside, but not letting the Gunny know.
“And what was that Kamehameha shit?” the Gunny came back. “Does he even exist, and if he did then did he really do that?
“The place is called the Pali,” I replied. “He existed. What he did up at that pass is anybody’s guess.
“Again,” the Gunny whispered, before moving back into the jungle.
I sat on my poncho cover and reflected on the simple fact that I was in the rotten position of having to hope that the enemy hit us.
Reference: King Kamehameha I (read section on Maui and O’ahu)
Jim, hope your return to the doctor this week goes well. In rereading book 2, this minor typo popped out. Welcome home. Dave.
I noted that he didn’t use the name (in) Junior in talking to me, plus the tone of his voice was actually almost polite. [this first in isn’t needed.]
Thanks for the support.
Which Chapter and where did you find that typo, Dave?
Found it and corrected, Thank you.
Met You in Winfield, didn’t get to visit with you very long. gave you my card. Had a good chat with some of the fellows.
Myself, Vietnam vet 1969, Phan Rang AFB, jet engine mechanic,
retired USAF CMSgt, 32 years.
Bought and read your book, loved it. do you have a wag on when your next book comes out?
Still sorting out feelings, for what that’s worth…
Keep up the good work.
The next book is hoped to be out in mid to late August, depending upon my ability to
finish the chapters and segments here.
Thanks for the visit in Winfield. Maybe we can spend more time next year.
Semper fi,
Jim
I have a very close friend that I am trying to get to read your story.
He was ROTC then Joined MC . FO school Ft Sill .
68 in Nam . Wounded after 3 mo . Okinawa ,then state side to finish out enlistment.
I think reading this would be a catharsis for him .
My service was 6 years 7 months and 3 days with MNG.3
years artillery unit. Trained at Sill in 60 . The rest in an AC unit .
Have great respect for your writing. Thank you.
Thanks ET. Artillery is a fascinating study, not just about projectiles about physics, weather and the earth itself.
Thanks for the comment and putting your friend ‘in harms way’ by foisting the story off on him.
Thanks for that and your support…
Semper fi
Jim
2nd Lt.strauss you have me hooked on your stories they take my mind somewhere else and do me a world of good I haven’t missed a story yet and can’t wait for the next… just wanted to let you know I’m still reading and will be till the end..god bless the Vietnam combat vets!!! thank you for your service I hope you cause others to write about their experiences… WELCOME HOME TO ALL THE NAM VETS READING THIS GOD BLESS YOU AND YOURS!!!!
Uplifting to read such comments. I write on into this day finishing the next segment and
working to get the detail of the first book perfect. You guys are terrific at finding the most
minute of detail. I think almost a hundred guys have pointed out the misuse of a CH-46 photo
when a CH-47 was called for. Thanks for the reading and the comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
Reading your commentary with interest. Your mention of Capt. Casey brought back a few flashbacks that I wish didn’t occur. I was with the 3rd Bn 7th Marines in Chu lai in 65/66 I was a radio operator in H&S Co and attached to L Co. In the Comm section we had two enemy’s to deal with, first and foremost, the vc/nva, and second, a comm chief,an E-7 gunnery Sargent.We had operations on a monthly basis and deep patrols in between.Then on return from operations or patrols we had to deal with the gunny. All that he wanted to do was find some reason to have you court martialed and sent to Leavenworth. I have seen several Marines have him in the sights of their weapons at one time or another. After a 12 day operation and dodging lead almost every step of the way, he immediately calls for a weapons inspection as soon as we arrive in the Bn CP. If anyone had a dirty weapon he submits them for office hours. I even had him threaten me when coming in from patrol with rice patty mud on my radio. I had him in the sights of my 1911 A1 when he got ten feet away from me.I was pretty determined to squeeze the trigger when I heard the Bn Commander say “I think the gunny is about to have a bad day”. I turned and saw who it was and snapped on the safety and holstered my piece. He just continued walk on by. After being on patrol and seen some of the carnage the grunts suffered, then having to face this S.O.B.,it was no wonder some of us were wishing to be hit just to get away from him. Fortunately, we had a Comm Officer with common sense and most of trouble the gunny caused was thrown by the wayside. I don’t need the nightmares and flashbacks that this man caused. In 1979, I started to organize a reunion of our unit and sent out letters and made phone calls to everyone I could find. We had our reunion later in the year and I never looked for, or even tried to locate the gunny, for fear of someone killing him if he attended. I’ve read every one of your excerpts and will continue to read them with great interest. Brings back many memories. Thank you Jim, welcome home. Semper Fi !!!
I don’t write much of the rear area because I was not back there for very much at all.
I have heard other stories like you own though. I know now that if I had come out of
where i was in the condition I was in then a Gunny would have been dead and me going for
life. That’s a shit exchange to make but when your a dead man walking you are all of that.
I am glad you exercised your judgment to be writing here and I am glad you had a good C.O. because
they were as uncommon as hell over there.
Semper fi,
Jim
Hey Jim. Great read. Love it. Were you a 2nd Louie over there to begin with?
The editor, and chemist, in me thinks you should change the “chemistry” looking at a specimen to “biology”. Just saying.
Yes, ej, I came through OCS, opting out of ROTC at graduation to try to become an officer in the corps.
I then made it through (#2 in my platoon!) and went to Basic School at Presley Obannon Hall when it was still there.
Off to Fort Sill and then hit the Nam before the end of my first year as a 2nd.
I like the editor in you, by the way. That is a substitute word for brain.
Semper fi, and thank you…
Jim
I had the privilege, for want of better word, of seeing the entire conflict up to my draft notice in ’72. In other words I knew what a sham it was by then. Your depiction of every man for himself rings so true. Anyplace I was a newbie was hell. The short timers were the worst yet the most likely to re-enlist. I suppose avoiding the scrutiny of the U.S. population was worse than Nam. I’ll never know. Fortunately I had the rare opportunity of sending officers off to face poor odds (MOS 6614). Surprising how respectful brass is when you control their aircraft. At any rate I am always faithful and In hoc signo vinces. That should clue you in to one of the four squadrons I served with.
In this sign you will conquer. VMA 533. Presuming I am correct at being able to
track your outfit down using the Internet.
Over there, on the ground, I never knew any of the outfits.
On the air radio we would get to hear the units sometimes using their air call sings
but we never put it together with who they really were with.
Air was such a rare and blessed thing to get in the jungle.
More effective when the air can see from above.
Anyway, thanks for the thinking and caring comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
I don’t think the average citizen realizes how tough it was for a soldier over there. WWI, WWII, Korea, Nam. Very tough. Here we were the technological giants of the world and yet constantly over matched. Well…so be it. I thank you for your service and by all means NEVER feel guilty about it.
Dave
I was not ready for command. I was ready to be a good forward observer, but
then found out that without some kind of hinting sort of subversive pressure
I, and the whole unit, was dead…and even then. So all I could do to
moderate the fear and ride its awful surging waves was to try to come up
with whatever I could. And that about sums it up. Guilt later is funny, like
telling the story now. I’m not sure I’m getting down just how self-centered I
really was and not thinking about taking care of the men unless it was taking care
of me first and it isn’t supposed to be that way. So, hence the guilt.
Anyway, thanks for making me think and thanks for the comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
Excellent writing James. What books did you study to get such knowledge of tactics? I have read many books about the military and your knowledge as a 2nd Lt. was awesome. Thank you for your service and for your writings. John Stebe Esq. Maj CA Ret – USAR, Ret Detective NYPD
I was 23. I’d been through ROTC at a small liberal arts college and had an ROTC professor named HRNCR. Yes, that’s the proper spelling!
He was terrific and we studied war games and reconstructing battles through three courses. I got loved it. And him. I loved Fort Sill because out side of Marine Corps OCS and The Basic School it was one of only three absolutely fair educational institutions of my life. And I knew I had signed up to play for all the marbles. That was it, and a young man’s interest in war novels and study of WWII. I just made up the rest as I went along. None of it was real but all of it was real. None of me is real but all of me is real. You know, for Christ’s sake, you were an NYPD detective. And still are. Thanks for coming on the site to check things out and give me a compliment. High praise from a man like you, I am certain.
Semper fi,
Jim
I went through State OCS because I did not have the hooks to get to Federal OCS :). We did not learn tactics, we learned D&C Map reading, how to be treated like shit, etc. I hear it has gotten much better. I am a retired detective now. Retired from the Reserves as well. Many ups and downs, but what a great life. What great experiences. I returned from Kosovo with the Reserves just in time to return to the NYPD for 9-11. The unfairness you point out is everywhere. On the NYPD they called it the theory of relativity, If your relative is a chief, you get the great jobs. I love the fight that you had in you. I think you may have been a bit of a hard ass before this experience. God bless your tactics instructor. I want the book, but I want you to sign my copy. John
Yes, I think I was a bit of a stickler for the rigidity I took to. I was
raised by Maryknoll nuns who’d just come back from the prison camps in Japan
following the war. They were tough. I mean they were bone deep tough and
violent as hell. Great prep for the Marines. I could spit polish shoes like
nobody’s business by the time I got to OCS, which impressed the hell out of my
D.I. Anyway, thanks for the nice note about your own background. So many of us
went into one form of law enforcement or another after the corps.
Thanks for writing and reading.
Semper fi,
Jim
I was a Spec 4 in the 12th Engr. Bn, 8th Infantry in Germany in 1960-1962. I was finishing my 3 year enlistment about the time Kennedy was putting Green Berets in Vietnam. (Also, the Berlin Wall was being built.) I’m interested in your writing because I remember people who were saying we shouldn’t get into a jungle war over there. I’m 81 now and I have wondered about the fate of my friends who were enlisted lifers or career officers some of whom were surely deployed to Vietnam later. Some had already served in WWII and Korea.
I think the jury is about in on Vietnam, as it will one day come in on all such
guerrilla efforts abroad. Without considering genocide, it is almost impossible
to defeat indigenous peoples on their own turf, and genocide is hopefully never to be
considered. The problem with Vietnam, Iraq, Afghanistan and the remainder still waiting
out there to grind up and kill wonderful young men and women, is that the entire population
is against the U.S. and they don’t care how good your motives might be in representing it.
Just the way it is and has always been.
Thanks for the well thought out comment and your support in reading the story.
Semper fi,
Jim
Don’t know how you are able to recount your experiences with such detail. I have put mine away for the most part. Is bringing them back to life. I religiously watch for your next postings. Will this eventually be put in book form? Semper Fi ! 11th Cav., The Blackhorse, ” 68 “
Thanks for visiting and the comment, Larry
My wife saved my ‘daily’ letters and I took notes when I was left the corps
after being released from Hospital.
Shared the story with close friends in 1970 also.
We will be publishing 3 Volumes
First, Second, and Third 10 Days
First 10 Days should be available in Paperback and Kindle by end of month.
Thanks again
Semper Fi!
Larry, it is in editing (the First Ten Days) right this minute
as we go up on Amazon. Thanks for asking, reading and troubling to comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
For me, I think the horror of the VN war hit me in the shower. Having to take showers with other men, mostly the ones whose tour of duty was about over, I saw the wounds on their arms, legs, back and all over their bodies. Up until then it was something seen on CBS news. Then it became real for me.
Even after what I’d been through in the Nam when I got to Tachikawa
Hospital in Japan I was barely conscious on a gurney and will never forget looking around
and seeing all these totally destroyed men around me. Destroyed in ways I could not accommodate laying
there. Even after what I’d seen up to that point it was stunning because it was out of the war and
back in some semblance of the world not supposed to be that way….
Thanks for the truth, right here and right now…
Semper fi,
Jim
I was in the Coast Guard . We worked with the swift boats in Gulf of Siam. We were known as the Brown Water Sailors. Like you at times we were led by new Officers who didn’t know what they were doing. Luckily our senior Enlisted managed to get them on track. The Combat Missions we were involved in, required the Enlisteds to get the mission done. I admire your. Story. After all that I saw, I still wonder why we didn’t win that war. I always wondered why we didn’t invade Hanoi. With most of their troops down South. I believe it would be a success.
My Dad was in the Coast Guard for thirty-five years but he never saw
any of that. The Swift Boats are truly cool. Fast and well armed and
manned by some pretty wild characters, John Kerry aside.
We didn’t invade Hanoi because we’d agreed with China and the Soviets not
to if they would not support Hanoi’s effort in the South. Of course those two
lied and supported the North in every way possible except for troops and planes.
There was a never a contest if it had been war. It was pacification, which can never work.
tried again in Iraq and Afghanistan and more. Never works.
Thanks for writing on here and reading the stuff.
Semper fi,
Jim
Where/When is the next chapter …..
Kent Roberts
In the next hour, my friend.
Thanks for demanding it…
Semper fi,
Jim
I know that you’re aware that you’re bringing to light a side of combat that no other published accounts haven’t after sterilization.
There’s the kind of combat experience we all read about that whitewashed and then there’s the surreal that no one ever accounts for that materializes in some our experiences. You’re bringing a healing to those of us have dealt with the crazy insane side that the surreal brings in that we haven’t been able to process. Because now every era will be able to identify with, even if it wasn’t anywhere near what you experienced. I don’t know if that made any sense.
Thank You
Well, Brad, I think you just about got it.
I am writing this because I thought maybe I was alone in my experience out there, although secretly I knew I could not be.
There had to be some commonality. My Uncle’s short revelation in the attic that time, so unbelievable until the dawn of my time in the Nam.
The guys who would not talk. Could not talk.
I now understand that they just wanted back inside the world they’d left and thought by not
identifying with where they’d been and what they’d seen and done they could just come home.
Of course, it does not work that way, as we all discovered. Yes, this world, this wonderful phenomenal world, is incapable
of either believing or wanting to believe what happened to so many of us.
How could what happened to me not frightfully effect the tattered scarred wreck who went in
to apply for a job in 1970 and could not get it because of the limp? And then how I would react.
Not with violence toward the social order, but with more damage to myself.
Drugs, alcohol, anything to try to get back in. Not to forget an past that I knew was not forgettable
but to get back inside the world that I’d left and now could not take me back.
You hit it all with your comment Brad.
Thank you for getting it and being there.
Semper fi,
Jim
This is a great book that informs the public about the realities of how the chain of command can be a gold plated FUBAR. “THE RAVENS” by Christopher Robbins. The backwaters of Laos revealed.
Right-e-o mate. Hanoi it should have been. Hanoi and their cadre knew that the US forces would not invade NV. Thus they could double their forward unit strength. Killing the communist leadership in NV via invasion of Hanoi and its’ docks would have ended the war. That’s what we call the “Simple smimple Plan”; King Kamehameha approved, of course.
Mr. Nobody
You are most correct Mr. Nobody. By making that agreement it was
like the U.S. unknowingly sealed the fate of the ‘war.’
As long as they could sit up there and train and continuously resupply
then all they had to do was wait.
Thanks for your usual high intellect and support,
Semper fi,
Jim
James, really hooked on following your trip through the Nam, I lived in the central highlands in 68-69, was USAF at Phu Cat, was attached to a unit that worked outside the wire protecting the airbase, it was run by buck sgts,who had to fight the stateside mentality prevalent in chain of command. Living outside the wire definitely gave us a different outlook on operations, being the bastards children of another type of war left us having to scrounge for logistics for us to survive. The 173rd and the ROK Tiger divisions were living in our AOR and gave us more support sometimes than the starched blouses did, keep writing, you’ve lifted the lid on that can of garbage I had clamped down so long ago, semper fi marine
Thank you Felix, I am working away on telling the story of American kids and young adults who were
thrown into a cauldron that the upper ranks knew about but did nothing to prevent or assist.
Thanks for the encouragement. It is people like you who I am writing for.
Semper fi
Jim
Tried to comment but it said I had already done that, but I didn’t. Anyway thanks for writing Brother and God Bless You!
No problem E.D., as i understand completely. This is not an easy subject or story to comment on.
Thanks for commenting at all and also for liking the story.
Semper fi,
Jim
James ! My blood pressure is going through the roof. You cannot leave is sitting on the cliff with incoming rounds on the way ! Thanks for the anticipation.its driving me insane.
It’s not me Jack! I can only write so fast and it was the times and the intensity
of real combat. Nothing like it, whether you are frightened to death, fatigued to the bone
or slaving away to get ready there is no ‘Cool Hand Luke’ shit going on. Thanks for
wanting the next chapter, as it will be up later today or tomorrow morning.
Semper fi,
Jim
I was other side of valley in Laos. While being in USAF I sure as hell wasn’t working for them if you know what I mean. God bless you for writing. Going to send one to my son, a firefighter who has been honored for heroism and was 2013 DOD Firefighter of the year. He asks me many questions and does not understand that I rarely can talk of those times. Sempri Fi Marine from another who served.
Here’s your other comment E.D. Thanks ever so much for passing this on to your son.
I hope he gets something out of it. If he asks if it was like this for you then just nod your head.
He’ll understand. Real war stories are mostly about shameful actions and cowardly thoughts and wishing
that you were not there. in fact, anywhere. I tried to tall that to the author of Rambo once at a writer’s convention
but it didn’t go down well!
Thanks again, and Semper fi,
Jim
E.D. sometimes the truth stings but relieves some guilt from the origin. War is death and destruction, no doubt about that. To the young, it is just their first and last game.
Good scribbles LT, let’s have some more.
Mr. Nobody
Thank you Mr. Nobody, although you are certainly someone on here.
The weird and wild ways that death floats about the battlefield are
what tear your mind apart more than anything else. To come to know
that no matter how ‘Rambo’ you may be a lousy 7.62 bullet can take you
down and out in less than a heartbeat.
Thanks for the comment and the reading,
Semper fi,
Jim
Are you going to have anything about the guys who are KIA and MIA ? You know there was some that didn’t come back
YEs, Fred, there will be more as the A Shau body count rises.
Thanks for asking and thanks for reading and making a comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
L.T. If you are truly welcoming edits to this work, I will give input. I do not need replies from you on any thing further as I agree with “someone who was there” that the replies take away from your cache of time.
Your answer to this either in positive or negative as to my offer will be appreciated. Btw, I was a mustang N.G. officer after returning from my second trip to S.E. Asia.
Glenn.
Maj. EN. U.S. Army ret.
ESSAYONS
Alway appreciate input, Glenn.
Jim, you have now woven a story that I can’t put down. I was away for a few days and read 3 installments yesterday and your new section today. It was not enough! Today’s segment left me wanting for more. Dam’n you seem to have a penchant for this writing stuff. Looking back over my 22 year career I can remember dealing with your over polished brass many times at many commands. The trick is not letting them get you killed while they either find out how to learn and adapt to the situation, or get killed, whichever comes first. Some made it, some didn’t and some were finally sent to the rear, usually an upward move, for their incompetence. In 10 days you have won the respect of some “old hands”. You’re still a FNG but now you are their FNG. Write faster please!
There were good officers and bad ones, and then those like me who didn’t have a clue.
I somehow got enough moss to at least navigate through the horrid killing swamp, but so many
did not. Thanks for a bit of your own story. Now I am back at it…
Semper fi,
Jim
Yes, write faster. I’m hooked.
Doc
Just got off Tenth Day Third Part and it should be up tomorrow.
I’m in the groove and working away. Thanks for motivating me and keeping me going.
I don’t know where I’m going but what the hell has changed. At least it’s not the A Shau!
Semper fi,
Jim
Yes, write faster. I’m hooked. One of the lucky ones. Went to GY instead as a puppy pusher.
Doc
Yes, you did indeed luck out and I hope you can at least smile at some of the
mind bending exploits you missed. It’s one thing to have a ticket to ride the big ones at the
fair but it’s quite another to get that ticket and not be told that half the rides end in your demise!
Now that makes for a helluva trip!
Thanks for liking the writing and wanting more faster. I’m on it.
Semper fi,
Jim
I know you are “pouring it out Like a wino pours his wine, Lt. Fortunately, you receive the replies that continue to feed you, but then you MUST reply to each.
Understood. MY concern is the depth of depletion of your physical well -being as the “Zen” of this endeavor takes its toll.
You are saving others as you save yourself, doing what you are here.
SO deeply valued. I did that, and there is a cost. Fucking tea bag stays in the water too long.
Giving to escape the prison often may put one into another prison.
The ghosts are well and living
Please save your time and make no reply? I am concerned for you, my friend.
Take no time to reply, just keep marching with a measured cadence.
Resupply is only a dial away…
A brothers’ Love to and for you.
Remember, please…no reply… save it for you and the rest of our band?
The Hill Trail back in Virginia. It wasn’t the worst of the trails for our
‘hikes’ in OCS and then the Basic School, but it was the longest and we always
seemed to get to it after we were already beat to shit.
I will maintain my way through, or I won’t.
But I won’t be pulling back, unless it is to envelope the enemy…which now is only time.
I am replying and I will continue to reply unless there are a million comments coming in and then I’m flying to
the Trobriand Islands, taking up residence on one of those end of the tropical pier shacks
with a cigar and a bottle of rum, and then all I will do is reply to comments…
because the comments are real and the people behind them are even more real.
The comments are more important to me than the book, although that is like saying the brain is more important than the heart.
It all works together here.
The Trobriands sometimes sound pretty good though…
Semper fi, my caring friend,
Jim
My Father did 39 months in “K” Co, 161st Infantry, 25th Div at Guadalcanal, Luzons, the Marianas, Battle of Manila, and the Guinia Islands. Bronze Star Ph as a recon troop He died suddenly when I was 15. An accident in H S took ALL memories of him away forever. His Eisenhower Jacket w. CIB and other medals (and Ballad of the Green Beret) pulled me to enlist and volunteer for Viet Nam. Am told by reliable historians he taught me his marksmanship. I was proud to follow him. Still am glad I did. and would again. Have long had the hankering to walk his steps from back then. MAybe I will find you there and bring cigars!
Well, my friend, you know where I am. Currently in Lake Geneva Wisconsin
where I put out a little newspaper called The Geneva Shore Report. Sort of a contrarian
newspaper, which you might imagine. thanks for all the stuff you send about your own background
and your most excellent opinions.
Semper fi,
Jim
James-Absolutely loving your writing and the amazing story. I see one editing item you may have already picked up?
“Ask your ‘yard’ over there,” Sugar Daddy said, pointing at Nguyen, who squatted just beyond out circle.
Should that read “beyond our circle” instead of “out?”
Can’t wait to buy the book!
Thanks Don,
Fixed the error.
I have a qualified team of editors going back through twice before we go to print.
Thanks Don, I and my volunteer ragtag guys are on it as best we can.
Thanks for the help.
Semper fi,
Jim
James: Here are some more edits for you; paragraph 9 change “make” to made, paragraph 15 change “steeping” to stepping, paragraph 35 change “five ten” to five or ten, paragraph 58 change “past run-in” to past run-ins, paragraph 72 change “in junior in” to junior in, paragraph 78 change “out circle” to our circle, paragraph 84 change “boy thighs” to both thighs, paragraph 88 change “back and for” to back and forth, paragraph 96 change “Fusner went work” to Fusner went to work.
Great story! I was Navy-Aircorps 60 to 65. I flew aircrew in P2Vs and had a lot of friends and relatives in Viet Nam in Navy, Marines, and Army. I’m very interested in reading more of this.
Really appreciate your sharp eyes, Tom.
The ones you noted have been addressed and the edit team is going back a second time.
Thanks again for watching my back.
Thanks Tom, we are on them as fast as we can get to them.
Your diligence and reporting are noted and thanked.
Semper fi,
Jim
James, I think letting a chapter begin and end on it’s own merits is a good thing, makes it more believable.
As I said before, you keep writing and I’ll keep reading!
The believability is really up to the reader because I have no tools in my toolbox to
influence that, that I know of! Anyway, thanks for the observation, comment and support.
Semper fi,
Jim
I was Army and Desert Storm, nothing like what you experienced, but somethings must be universally true across time and branches of service because your recounting of your experience resonates with me.
I only point these out because I know you’re publishing:
I massaged boy thighs with my hands – boy should be both
then a rectangular box running back and for across the swell of mountain edge we were currently on. – for should be forth
Thanks very much Stephen. I’ll be all over the editing tomorrow and Sunday, to try to get it off
on Monday. I have to choose a cover and that’s not easy either. But worth it I think.
Thanks for the help and caring enough to help.
Semper fi,
Jim
There is another one James.
Our position, about a thousand meters in form the lip of the ridge should be sufficient unless the NVA had a competent forward observer with a decent radio lurking nearby.
The word “form” should be “from.”
I served in Nam ’67-’68 with the A/5/2 Dusters.
Your story is riveting, can hardly wait for the next installment.
Next installment coming up. As you wish, would be the phrase from Princess Bride.
Thanks for wanting one.
Semper fi,
Jim
James, here is another possible mistake you might have your editors check.
I reluctantly handed the Japanese instrument over. My need for them, as long as we remained up on the ridge of high on the wall of the valley, would be greater than it had ever been if I had to call in artillery support.
The word “of” following ridge does not seem to fit.
Fixed and again appreciated
James, a couple more for your editors. Hope you don’t think I am nit-picking. Feel you want it right for publishing.
I knew their commanders would be suffering from the two past run-in they’d had with our company and Kilo. (run-ins)
I noted that he didn’t use the name in Junior in talking to me, plus the tone of his voice was actually almost polite. (in Junior?)
Fixed and Thanks
Thanks Stephen…both fixes done!
I think it was a very reasonable plan given the terrain, the registration marks, the previous experience in that location and reasonable expectations that you would get hit with the 122mm’s and ground troops that were wanting some “geteven” from the two previous encounters. How many plans were possible at that point, and waiting until something happened puts you on a defensive and reactive position and you are then late to the party. Planners always need to remember that in combat, KISS (keep it simple stupid) is a good model to follow because when the artillery and shooting start, communications and orders ane hard to come by. You did a hell of a job just keeping yourself and so many others alive in the 10 days you had been there. The career brass and ring knockers always felt they were “above” those of us who were OCS and ROTC officers, but the proof of the pudding was who got the job done and kept their men alive. Well done, LT. Marine, Army, Navy, Air Force…..same problems, different people.
Joe. Spot on. All of it. What an outpouring of conclusionary intellect and life experience.
You are so correct. That’s what I found inter-service. The Military service does not matter.
The intellect and the man or woman matter.
And planning in the field is a thing of almost basal foundational thought.
You work with what you have at the moment and you have to guess a lot.
Some you win and some you lose. Thanks for this comment. It is a precious one.
Semper fi,
Jim
Like you, i spent lots of time with 9th Marines in the A Shau Valley. It ate men and often left you feeling lonesome and neglected. Unappreciated. I was a friend of Gen. Walt. I remember many times when he would sit with Col. Bull Fisher and cuss Westmorland’s tactics of sending companies deep into indian country to draw out the VC and NVA. We were often sent into Laos where the “big guns” couldn’t reach us. I am also writing a book about the war, but I cannot go as deep into the discriptions as you do. Even so, I have days, and weeks, without writing because of the flashbacks and nightmares it brings. My friends and family don’t understand what we went through, so they think that I’m making it up, and I haven’t even told them the bad stuff. I’m glad I discovered your writing. When your book gets published, I’ll buy about 20 copies to hand out when someone ask what I did in the war. Thanks.
Jim, some of the reason I am putting this out is for the credibility of others, not myself.
I expect to eventually get attacked by the powers that be because of this message. But that won’t stop
the real deal guys from handing the story to their friends and relatives and saying ‘read this and then we’ll talk.’
That’s the real benefit here. And hell, as you can read from the story, I’m used to having the whole world land on me.
Thanks for writing in and telling the truth. And caring enough to write in.
Semper fi,
Jim
*You have indeed validated the suppressed thoughts and nagging questions in a lot of minds. It really isn’t like the movies.
*Should you be attacked by the powers that be, we will have your back, for all it may be worth.
*I too am concerned with the energy and emotion required to answer every comment, but those comments and your replies have become, at least to me, integrally woven into the fabric of the story.
*As to your strategy/tactics, I’m reminded of an interview with QB Peyton Manning during the glory years at Indianapolis. He said when asked about complicated strategies, (in essence) “You leave the huddle with a strategy but it usually turns in to tactical street ball – Real Quick”
Keep writing sir.
13B40
Yes, I always had plans and Peyton could not have gotten it more correct.
Even Plan B stuff was not secure. The enemy was brilliant in many ways.
They respected me, of all people and somehow knew of my existence in their
world. That scared the shit out of me. If they had hated me I’d have been
more comfortable. When an enemy likes you, well it’s downright creepy. And believe me
you sure as hell know you have a capable and talented enemy!
Thanks for liking the comments and my replies.
I try to give it straight from the shoulder because, well, it is damned
hard to lie to people who’ve been in the shit with you. What’s the point.
These books will go out to the real deal guys and not many more.
They may around to be hungered for by young men one day
about to travel in harms way and be better prepared.
I don’t know. Let’s put it this way; they aren’t going
to give a Pulitzer to a guy with my history.
That I’ve lived my life in total subversive PTSD does not mean
shit to regular people, and you damned well better not put it on a resume!
Thank you ever so much for not being ‘regular people.’
Semper fi,
Jim
I’ve had a great interest of the Marine Corps for several years, especially the Vietnam era. Just happened across a book in the high school library, my interest led me to almost joining out of school.
Being a only child and my father being so upset held me from signing. It is a great regret of my life now.
Your story is very compelling, and locks my attention like handcuffs. I feel though you sell yourself short. Every tub must stand on its own bottom as they say, and you sir did so as any man with great responsibility should in the fog of war. Yes, you made some bad decisions, but you made even more great decisions.In the grand scheme of things you won the respect of the enemy, and that is most telling.
P.S. Write faster!
You should not live in regret because you did not join up.
You might have killed your dad by doing that, especially if you had been killed.
Remember, the casualties were high.
Very high.
If you went out into the shit you did not come back like me, for the most part.
You came back dead.
I sell myself short because I feel to this day that I could have been so much better.
I know that does not make sense intellectually but it does emotionally.
So I labor with that part.
Up late at night working a way.
Using PTSD to actually do something good.
I hope.
Thanks for bothering to comment and for liking the work.
Your support, just as the man you obviously are (who your Dad knew you were), means a lot
to someone like me.
Semper fi,
Jim
The PTSD thing is quite the bitch, I hope your finding this therapeutic and not raising questions as to why your reliving it in detail. I find the further I’m away from my thing the easier it’s got, time heals a bit, the nightmares are for the most part gone. I no longer feel the need to have loaded guns all over the house, I can maintain a normal family life. I’m still Ocd to the extreme , perhaps that’s part of the therapy for you serving that master in details. Loving the chapters.
Happy that you like it. It’s not killing me, although I am experiencing a bit more discomfort than normal.
Everything you said in your email is exactly correct about my situation too, when it comes to PTSD.
Thanks for writing what you wrote and liking the story….
Semper fi,
Jim
Keep me coming back and checking every day. You are spreading yourself pretty thin doing the Amazon publish as you keep this going too. Don’t allow the drain to become too much as there is no one else to relate the rest of your enlightenment from there.
Yes, I am spread pretty thin in getting the book out while I’m continuing to write the series.
I can’t stop writing the series though because too many real men are reading and wanting to continue along.
I am trying my best and will continue. Thanks to people like you who give unbelievable encouragement and heart.
Semper fi,
Jim
Fantastic reading… especially since I was lucky 🍀 enough not to be there..
Thanks for the comment Mac, and yes, you experienced good fortune in that area.
Glad you are taking it all in reading the story though.
Semper fi,
Jim
Damn it Lt why don’t you make your memories into a movie. Every paragraph I read makes my pulse roar. I lived that place,smelled it tasted it made it back to the world. Your reads just give me the hebee jeebees brother. Semper Fi Strauss
Well, Larry, the making of movie is not a simple undertaking. There is the money, the crews the producers and all the rest.
And a total lack of control once it all gets rolling. Most of the movies coming out of Hollywood are shit because of that.
I’m doing the best I can to get it all into three books on Kindle and on paper so the people who don’t do the net thing can read it.
Thanks for the backing and effort it takes to comment at all…
Semper fi,
Jim
On the edge of my seat!! Totally into each chapter like I was right there with you watching everything unfold! Leading is tough, leading those that don’t want led is nearly impossible. Sounds like your gaining ground with your guys!
At the time, Mike, I was unaware of what ground I might be gaining anywhere.
I had learned in only ten days to try to pass yourself off as somebody who is useful and knows something of value.
I knew that might keep me alive inside the wire.
Outside the wire was another issue entirely.
Thanks for being effected and wanting more.
I am endeavoring to persevere and write this very minute….
Semper fi,
Jim
It’s as if you are,sir,hunting the white whale himself. I can explain the feeling the story gives me no other way. I am numbed!
I like that. The white whale. Like there is a symbolism to all that that eludes me
but might be visible to others looking in. Neat thing. Thank you for being effected by
the story and taking the time and effort to comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
Sounds like a great plan to me! Keep them coming.
We had a 2nd LT leading our platoon on a SAD with the company near by. Taking us down a trail he was going to take a break, Sargent Jim told him that was not a good idea. Jim and 3 of us said we would take “Flank Security”. A 100 yards farther down the trail the RPGs were flying. The LT ran past us without his M16 and RTO, we didn’t have any wounded. The company came in and we cleared the area and found a weapons cache.
Funny stuff happened out there and there is so little note of any of it.
Combat is like that. You not only don’t know what the hell is going on right beyond your perimeter
you have no memory of what’s going on inside of it as you move from moment to moment, second to second.
Only the light of a strange eidetic memory and advancing age allow me to get it back and down form my little band
of men in a very tiny part of the conflict. Thanks for the story, Mike, and the demand for more. I am hard at it.
Semper fi,
Jim
I wear my emotions on my sleeve as they say .And man,James you have them flying now.I keep checking my E mail all day.Hadn’t laughed on any chapters until now.Ïf the new Lt’s show up ,you ignore them ýou,re good at doing that to new officers.Better for them a sharp tongue than a quick Colt 45 . Carry on Semper Fi
Thanks Roger. I was ‘shooting from the hip’ at that time, trying to figure out
what to do with the racial thing myself. Knowing that the officers were right for the corps but
wrong if the unit wanted to survive for another day. Thanks for the observation and your response to the writing.
Semper fi,
Jim
You left me hanging on this one. I’ll be back come sunup. More later. Much more
The chapters seem to start and end all on their own Carroll. I try not to make
them too long because, well, it’s not that kind of culture anymore. And I get a bit emotionally fatigued after a few hours
of the writing. Then I have to come back. My family is not much enjoying the writing of this tory because they have not heard ninety percent of it
and are a bit hurt I never told them and also because I am not quite ‘right’ while I’m writing it. There, that’s my excuse and I’m sticking with it!
Thanks for the demand for more because I am working on the Tenth Night right this minute.
Semper fi,
Jim
I can’t even imagine the turmoil and stresses that reliving this puts you through, I laughed out loud at your comment about your family being a bit upset, that you aren’t “right” while in the midst of writing it, as I’m sure they don’t know the half of it.
I hope they realize the good it will do for YOU to let it out of the box. And the chatter from the vets comments here, prove that it’s not only YOUR suppressed experiences being let out.
Keep it up, Jim… you are keeping me on the edge of my seat!!
And again, Thanks to all the vets for your service and sacrifices. It’s thru reading this story, that I realize the cost of your service.
Well, they’ve been along for the whole wild ride so I imagine
they’ll accommodate this iteration. Thanks for the concern and
the humor. Sometimes I do laugh at what I write when it’s brought to my attention.
Thanks a million.
Semper fi,
Jim
James,
I believe all services had similar leadership voids in RVN….my worst CO was a ring knocker named JLW…..named for his grandfather, who named Ft L W…….my best CO was a CW3, with a DSC and around 100 air medals when I met him.
He took a direct to 04, and was the finest aviation commander I could have hoped to serve under.
Tale of Two Cities……it was the best of times, and the worst of times..
Welcome home,
Bill
Dickens had it down. I loved then Spock handed Kirk that book
in the Star Trek movie after Kirk’s sone was killed. Yes, Bill, it was all
of that. Thanks for sharing that comment of rather deep wisdom and some heavy duty
experience yourself.
And for writing in about it and enjoying the story.
Semper fi,
Jim
I love these short scripts of your experiences. I was born in 1964 but remember seeing the news everyday and night. One of my teachers in 2nd grade,her husband was in country. She use to let us watch the morning news in her classroom during roll call.
Then when I went to work in the construction field in the early 80’s most of the people I worked with where veterans.
One of my uncle’s was in an artillery unit and did 2 Tours. He even brought back home a Chinese made SKS. My cousin has it now.
Closing I really love your writing and skill at story telling. Keep it up.
Thanks Richie. Your support means a lot to me and your caring about the writing is what I and the story are all about.
Your uncle had to get that SKS legally some way or other so there’s a story there, even if he didn’t tell it.
Anyway, thank you for writing and reading…and liking what you read…
Semper fi,
Jim
Second Lieutenants, nothing but a place to put the blame?
My Dad made Lt Colonel in the Army in WW2, I had no idea how hard that must have been on him to get that far. And he wasn’t in combat. This tale is getting even more interesting and now the company is starting to follow you? Don’t let me slow you down. A good work here sir.
w3ski
Follow is a real relative word in combat, my friend. They follow but they don’t and there
are a lot of subtle changing hints, clues and the great unknown to deal with. It was more
luck and fortune than deliberation that got me through at all…and the support of men when I did not expect it from,
while not getting it from people who owed it. Jeez!
Thanks for your comment and your thoughts about it…and the compliment too…
Semper fi,
Jim
I check FBI daily for the latest update!! Great story.
You can opt into a special part of this website that notifies you every time a new segment comes up.
I am working on Tenth Night right this minute. I average about three to four days between segments.
At least you get them freshly written although my early editing suffers a bit. The other time I spend
shaping the First Ten Days into a book and getting it up on Amazon in pretty much error free form.
Whew. That’s harder than you might think.
Thanks for caring. Thanks for commenting, too.
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim, love the quick plan. I’ll take second watch. get some shut eye.
I had to steal plans from God knows where in my mind and I had to do so in
a manner that would make the guys think I was either really smart or really
blessed. There was a ton of superstition going on over there as will become evident
in the next few days. Thanks for wanting to read on and thanks for having my back.
Semper fi,
Jim
Waiting patiently for next chapter….lol
I am writing the Tenth Night right this minute, when I’m not answering comments here.
I never expected so many comments and I never expected that I would feel compelled to answer
each one personally, which I do. The guys, like you, deserve it and I never want to get so important that
I don’t have the time. I have the time it takes for very man who was in the shit over there because God knows that most of
the rest of humanity does not.
Semper fi,
Jim
Was not boring south of there a bit either in 1969. Then they moved my unit to the An Loa valley, where we built a company sized base called Lz Tape. Place was crawling with NVA.
Maybe someday I will have the nerve to read the whitewashed letters I sent home to mom. She gave them to me a couple of years before she passed.
You ought to read those letters. They may surprise you. Yes, you whitewashed them, like I did. But you
will probably be able to read between the lines like I can now. Interesting stuff.
Thanks for writing on here and being one of the brothers from over there.
Semper fi,
Jim
I was never there, but enlisted in the Army in March 1975, Charlie Company 2/116th FA (105mm T), 13E FDC, I get all the Arty references which helps keep me in the moment, but your writing makes me feel like I am there. As for your plans, we have an old saying in the firehouse, “if you can’t dazzle them will your brilliance, baffle them with your bullshit!”. Keep them rounds coming!
Well, I was hard at work dazzling and baffling them as best I could.
I knew in my very core that my survival was more linked to my own men and their
beliefs about me than it was about the enemy…although that didn’t look real good either!
Thanks for caring and writing to me the way you have. I appreciate the warmth of your thoughts written here…
Semper fi,
Jim
Hey, Thomas, I was also a 13E, but a different era than you. I was in ’87-’97 and served in the Gulf War with the 101st.
I told James in a previous thread that I appreciated his shout outs to the arty guys. Since I’ve been out, I’ve literally come across two people on this planet who actually know and understood what we did.
I wonder what they might make of this story back in Sill.
To take their most excellent training and then modify it as
needed for combat might have been my greatest gift. Maybe if I
had not had Abrams as my instructor that might not have been the case.
I paid attention. And I loved that I had so much arty support even though
I knew that a lot of units simply didn’t know how to properly use it so
they didn’t.
Thanks for the erudite comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
Thanks for the reply Bill. It seems Arty people are in short supply and FDC even more so. I have one friend that was in country, assigned to 175mm Long Tom’s. We trade Arty speak in chat rooms and nobody get’s it, we could be our own “Code Talkers”. On a side note I played a member of the 101st in a documentary called Ike: The War Years(1978) with Robert Duval, I was active duty USAF stationed in the UK. Welcome Home Brother!
Tom, I would say the number of Sill graduates that went on to call artillery
in the shit and survived is pretty damned rare. Yet, it was artillery, much more than
air support that was so effective, available, weather resistant and kind of endless in supply.
The biggest deal about air was making sure they did not have air and resupply and medevac. No small
deals those either.
Thanks for writing and the reading.
Semper fi,
Jim
Using Cunningham would catch the enemy in an Artillery cross-fire. It’s a plan.
Well, not exactly Paul but I think you are close. I basically wanted to run the
NVA right into their own fire, turn down the mountain and run into the company’s machine
guns. That was the plan, anyway. Thanks for the intelligent comment and following the story.
Semper fi,
Jim
You and the rest of the USMC seem to be awful hard on Officers. You, sir, remind me of my Platoon Leader over there. As the Medic, I was always close to him and the RTO. That LT, like you, seem to have your stuff together (good bluff??). The LT was a First and had quite a bit of experience having survived his butter-bar days. Watched him lead….from the front. Helped me in my remaining 23 years in the Army.
Thank you Roy. I think! There were a lot of good officers in the corps.
I trained with some and was trained by some. But in Vietnam I did not meet too
many and when the chips were down a bad officer is worse than bad, he’s death
for everyone around, including himself. But, then again, I only saw one particularly
focused group and experienced limited operations in a relatively small area considering how big
the country really is. Thanks for the comment and the reading.
Semper fi,
Jim
Seriously, there’s no ‘think’ here. I meant my comments as total respect for you. We had our bad officers that we would recognize and salute from a long way off (hopefully out of the kill zone).
No offense taken here, Roy! I treasure the fact that guys like you come on here and say what you and they really think.
Where the hell else is that going to happen? Even Facebook either censors you or they take what you wrote and make it their own.
Not here, unless you write a really great line like John Conway, or one of those rare creatures…and I am compelled to steal their line.
Thanks for caring about it all and you have my respect and friendship here.
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim, I’m all for a trip to crazy town once in a while but you are starting to buy land their. Guessing enemy movements and actions and having only one plan centered around that guess is suicide. Your company has been blessed so far. Just takes one break for the NVA and your all on the wall. Glade I was in the teams, all this dodging regiments would get my morale down. Maybe you can get some cool officer stuff before the medavac comes. If it’s not torn up too badly. Look forward to each new installment.
SF
Butch
Well hell Butch! It was a crazy time and I was fighting for my life in more ways than one.
I had artillery to count on no matter what and some air, as well. Any plan I came up with using those,
and if they were in range and available, was likely to be not too bad. My beer problem early on was
not the enemy, however, as you have read. It is trying to get the guys to think it was more important to keep
me alive than to let me die or kill me. The only morale we ever developed in the field was among one another in
small groups. Thanks for liking the story. I’m not putting this up here for credibility purposes. I am putting it up
to tell the story, finally, and to let other veterans know their bizarre circumstance might not have been so bizarre after all.
thanks for the comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
Is it possible to get the book.
The first book, called the First Ten Days, will be avaiable from Amazon later this
month if “the creek don’t rise” kind of a thing. I will continue the segments that will compose
the Second Ten Days while I get out the first book. Thanks for asking and caring.
Semper fi,
Jim
Lao Tzu…..or…Sun Tzu? I still remember one of our senior pilots saying “hell, even a bad plan is better than no plan.”
The part of the Marine Corps training that dealt with immediate decisions
to be made that might cost a lot of people their lives was severely limited
because it was not foreseen that second lieutenants would command anyone without
tons of supervision. It was Sun Tzu who said that, by the way, but I never heard
his name until well after I got back.
Thanks for the comment and the reading.
Semper fi,
Jim
Sounds like a good plan. Anxiously awaiting the next chapter.
I just put it up on here and also on Facebook. Thanks for asking and approving
of the ‘plan.’
Semper fi,
Jim
Getting better and better
Thank you James. The story develops a lot of twists and turns but then life
was very much like that in the field over there, at least for me and the men
around me. I have heard of other units where they lived mostly in boredom but that sure
as hell was not the case in and around the A Shau when I was there.
Thanks for the encouragement and the reading.
Semper fi,
Jim
Agree, Good Plan. Waiting for next chapter also
Bizarre plan, really. But, as with so many I came up with, any plan that was
based upon artillery supporting fires, and the fire was there, was a pretty good plan.
Artillery covers a lot of mistakes on the ground. Thanks for the compliment for my
work back in the day and reading and commenting this day.
Semper fi,
Jim