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Ym…
Thanks for reading this short excerpt from the paid post! Fancy buying it to read all of it?
Jim, a simple typo. Welcome home. Dave.
“They’re in their little cubbyholes quite comfortably, Fusner whispered, … => needs a double quote after comfortably, and before Fusner.
As usual sharp eyes are appreciated.
So noted and corrected
Semper fi,
Jim
I don’t know if this narrative is a gift or a curse. I want to write some comments, but can’t formulate the words. I was just a grunt with the 1/501, 101st Abn. in 1970. Carried M-60, walked point, got blown up, came home. I thank you and hate you for your extraordinary story. Keep up the good work and get it done. Can’t wait. I am thoroughly hooked.
Humpe an M-60. those were hard to hump and hard to keep the ammo
clean because you couldn’t exactly drag the cans around everywhere.
The damned clips too. Anyway, thanks for being one of those guys.
Saved my bacon a time or two….and didn’t shoot me, either!
Semper fi,
Jim
Good morning Lieutenant.
It’s almost dawn.
The neighbor’s rooster is crowing.
You up?
Hit us. We need our fix.
Yes, I am mostly ‘up’ by six and ‘down’ by about one a.m., when I am not doing my wandering in the wasteland kind of a thing. The next segment is going up this segment, and as usual I have my doubts because this shit bleeds into total reality and, as with Vietnam, reality scares me. Things come for you in the real world and I don’t necessarily want things coming for me because I write. I’m up and at ’em though and thanks a ton for the asking!
Semper fi,
Jim
Thank you for your story and your service LT.
I did two tours in Nam with the Corps; 67-68 as an 0331 M-60. We worked northern I corps and was hit at KS in Feb 68, about 2 wks shy of my end of tour. I’d just signed my 6 mo. extension papers. Medivaced home and reupped. Went back to Nam in 70-71 as a door gunner/ crew chief on a Ch 53D. That’s my story and sticking to it. We got our ass run out of the Ashau in 67. I went out with a recon unit that wanted an extra gun. We spotted camp fire, at twilight, on another hill. We called in arty but got Puff. Some genius at the head shed wanted us to go over there at daylight and check out the hill. We went and saw that Puff had done an awsome job. Didn’t take long for a group of NVA to spot us. Ended up in a two day running gun fight till we got back to base. That area was bad JUJU ! I got a pinched nerve in my shoulder from jumping off big rocks with the 60 on it. Sent me back to Phu Bai hospital with a GB in a jeep, but that’s another story. Got over any PTSD when I got home by being a biker and bar brawler. Made friends with the ghosts and kind of enjoy the dreams. It’s like going to the movies without the popcorn. Biggest fear is running out of ammo. Sorry to be long winded. Enjoy your book; best of luck, Sir.
You ‘got over’ PTSD by becoming a biker and a bar brawler?
How did you take the adjustment from being in real combat and a real warrior to being
in that artificial macho milieu? I would not think that within the realm of possibility for
someone of your proven metal. How can you fear running out of ammo when you don’t use any?
Ammo gets old and you have to retire it to collector status or get rid of it, in my experience.
Thanks for the detail of your variety of run-ins with the whole Vietnam thing. Appreciate you
making the in depth comment and supporting me in writing the story.
Semper fi,
Jim
Yes Jim, I hear you. I guess I needed the adrenaline rush. I couldn’t just step from War to peace b
Only those who don’t know think that you can make that adjustment quickly
and without mental aberrations. Thanks for coming back and writing here.
Semper fi,
Jim
Outstanding writing. I’m a fan of small unit military actions. I spent 20 years in the actions my 76-96. I spent enough time in a loss miserable Conditions and not in mortal danger, that I have total respect for anyone that went through this. Keep up your writing, I’m one dogface who would buy your books no question asked. Thank you.
Thank you Steven. Small unit military actions. I didn’t know there was such a genre.
Intersting. Anyway, I am writing away here and glad that you made it through without being
chopped into bits, or anything like that. It’s much appreciated that you like my story and
will buy the book. I should have it to Amazon publishing in the next few days, as I continue to
turn out the second volume on here.
Semper fi,
Jim
I was in Ashua numerous times. Everything that you write about happen to us. I was fortunate enough to have good Officers in my units. I hated it there as much as I hated being in the corner of Loas an the DMZ. I dream at night after reading your chapters, but, I am totally in grossed with your words. Keep them coming
Thank you Dean. Yes, I dream after writing them too! I dreamed that I was alongside the sandy
bank of the river running through the A Shau. The sand was grainy and wonderful. The water strangely clear and
blue, like it never really was. A man parachuted in to land on the sand nearby. He took off his chute, rolled it up and
handed it to me. I took it, realizing the man was my son. Then I woke up. Strange, as dreams will be.
Thanks for the share and the support, and liking the writing.
Semper fi,
Jim
James, I flew Dust Off in your AO from 1968 till 1970. Our call sign was DMZ Dust Off. We picked up a lot of Marines. Thank you for all you and your Marines did to stay alive.
You guys were like angels of the air. You flew no matter what and this part of military life
I must credit to the United States Army. Your helicopter operations in the Nam were just
outstanding, from beginning to end. When we could not get help…you came. When our help would not come
because of incoming…you came. When the weather was awful…you came. Many of us Marines will never
forget that…Thank you!!!!
Semper fi,
Jim
James,
I can’t wait until your next installment, I’ve went back to the first day and started rereading, the story has me captivated!
.
Scott Wagner
Truly appreciate the interest and the enthusiasm. The next segment should be out tomorrow.
God willing and the creek don’t rise.
Semper fi,
Jim
James,
After reading your installments I read the comments and each Vet has a story too that relates with you and their stories are captivating too.
Interesting phenomena for me too Scott. It was and remains unexpected but most welcome.
I reply to each one because they are so heartfelt and valid. Jeez. The stories are kind of like
sometimes as good or better than my own! A lot of truth here and that’s enjoyable too.
Thanks for the comments and the care.
Semper fi,
Jim
Somewhere up above I saw the reference to how Thick some one felt when incoming was hitting. My first incoming was in Dong Ha and I was liaison to the 3rd Marine Div. MI group. We were walking across an open area when rounds from 105′ in North Vietnam across the DMZ start hitting between us and the airfield. I remember lying there thinking how thick the buttons on my shirt felt and how “thick” I felt. I was shown that on we we knew they we firing, by listening, we could hear the tubes pop, and knew it would be 10 to 11 seconds before the rounds impacted. Amazing how far you can go in 10 seconds when properly motivated! Joe Mann, y1LT, US Army
Big mortars! You get to hear the discharge of mortar fire. That plooping or plopping noise every time a round is launched. You can’t hear artillery leaving the tube because except for very rare indirect fire the round is traveling well beyond the speed of sound. That think thing is so relevant. That and flatness and the ridiculousness of hiding behind things that would not stop much more than a BB gun. That’s why each and every grunt who’s faced a .50 or 12.5mm has a healthy quiet respect whenever we see one. Those things on the ground were simply devastating and nothing seemed to stop the rounds. Fifteen feet of berm. No problem. Shit.
Thanks for the comment and the read.
Semper fi,
Jim
These were 105 howitzers, but were pretty well firing at maximum range as Dong Ha was about 6 miles from the DMZ The sound was straight line and the round a much longer flight due to the high trajectory,so in essence they were long range mortars.
Yes, good point Joe. At high angle the howitzer is exactly a mortar, and a damned
powerful and accurate one, as well. Having a full FDC was wonderful, not to mention
Fort Sill trained officers back at the battery. Thanks for the detail.
Semper fi,
Jim
LT,
As I read your account my mind was pulled back to something my Dad told me about his time on Guadalcanal. I heard this in the 1960’s when he was finally willing and able to tell me about some of his experiences.
This is what he said…
“When the big naval shells from the Jap battleships and cruisers came in they glowed red hot, roaring like a freight train… when they landed they lifted us up out of our bunker above ground level. The sergeant and I had dug the bunker with a shelf to sit on so our helmets were below ground level – until the shelling started. The shelling lit up the night sky like the 4th of July.”
How anyone remains sane after enduring what you guys did is remarkable.
Bob
Abut the NGF (Naval Gun Fire) you are so correct. The single time I saw it. Yes, the rounds going by, headed further inland. They were near phosphorescent as they passed, and seemed not that high overhead. That swishing freight train sound that radiated down and then echoed. Those were New Jersey rounds. 16 inch weighing 2200 pounds each! When the B-52’s were too close that same thing happened. You would get bounced out of your dug in hole and then race to get back inside it for the next bomber run. Funny, but those big explosions did not make you deaf like the smaller closer in stuff.
Semper fi,
Jim
Took the C-135 Stratolifter on a medevac to Dover. When we reached cruising altitude I noticed that the plane never “relaxed” as they normally do when reaching cruise altitude. Just kept hauling ass. Asked the crew chief and he told me that some of the litter cases couldn’t be out of intensive care very long so they kept the power on. Foggy on the time but the trip was FAST! One big surprise was when we stopped to refuel at Elmendorf. They made all the walking wounded get off and move into the terminal. Wouldn’t have been so bad but it was in a blizzard so bad we couldn’t see the terminal lights. An airman came to get up and told us to hook onto the belt of the guy in front and not to turn loose. If we did they would find us after the storm. Fueled up took off and it was la la land again. Woke up in Delaware. Hell of a trip, or so I was told.
Thanks Chuck. I had forgotten the name of those plastic bags they
pinned us up on the walls with. Litters. Litter bearers carried stretchers when I was in training.
But I think the bag I was in was called the same thing.
Thanks for the interesting rendition of what happened to you.
Some weird exciting shit going on back in the day.
Semper fi,
Jim
Once I started reading I couldn’t stop. Drove a deuce and a half in the valley a lot in 69 and 70 mostly to FSBs Birmingham and Bastogne. You took me back there. Great read! 26th Gp, 39th Trans Bn, 666th Trans Co.
Thanks for that evaluation. It is nice to be able to write about it now and gain some acceptance.
I am sure not by all, but by the one’s that count. Thanks for reaffirming that.
Semper fi,
Jim
Following and can’t wrap my head around going thru that. Look forward to more.
Well, it’ll soak in over time, if we both have the time to make it through
before I get assigned to a psych ward or worse! Thank you for liking the story and wanting more.
Semper fi,
Jim
Three times I was order to do a live “crater analysis”, at LZ Vera, on 10 and 11 March 1969. I was guarding an Artillery unit on an open ridge. Two semi trucks, full of 105s was in center of perimeter. I got blown around, like a rag doll, by the mortars, artillery and rockets! I really got screwed up from head trauma and hearing problems. Only got blown down once! Saved 50 Montagnards Special Forces, my Armored Cav. Platoon ( “A” Troop 1/10th Cav. 5th Inf. Div.. and the Artillery unit. After destroying the NVA Artillery, I was told by op. coned CO., that I would I would get a Silver Star. Later the Troop First Sergeant, told me I did not get Silver Star, ” because no one ever did it before” Chicken shit excuse, to tell a courageous Lt! Also, never got any of my 10 Purple Hearts! Should have gotten Medal of Honor!
And so, what would you do with the medals today? Oh, the MOH might be okay, except they track and use
those people mercilessly. The rest of them? End up in the attic or basement. Other guys don’t give a shit and many
will question or hold them against you. Unfortunate but true. You did good work it appears from your description
and you ought to be proud of being equipped and able and willing to do that. There is no reward for being a great warrior
and that is why so many get so very quiet.
Semper fi,
Jim
Some of our officers needed to get yheir ticket punched for fame and glory. Some needed to get punched.
And so it was, and so it remains, and so PTSD was born and now reborn all over again.
To live among the non-living is to be safe. Alone. But safe.
Semper fi,
Jim
Ouch!
WELL, Pretty laconic, that comment, but thanks anyway.
I presume the message to be one about the fact that the story reached you on some emotional level.
Semper fi,
Jim
That was a bit pithy as O Reilly might say. Really wasn’t my intent to offend, just a bad attempt at humor. My apologies.
Apologies for what? I think you misunderstand my personality and my
ability to take it. Hey, except for racism and junk like that there is
a place for everyone here on this comment area, which actually is a lot more like
a forum. Thanks for being part of that, including the humor you bring to the table.
Semper fi
Jim
Well to be honest it was a hit at the medal collector and my interpretation of you shutting it down. I’d be leery of guys out to earn medals when others just want to survive and go home. Maybe I interpreted this incorrectly. Looking forward to the next chapter.
It’s funny about the medal stuff, because when you get home the only people who really care about the
medals don’t like you if you have higher ones than they do and other people who you think might positively admire them
don’t have a clue. So, for all those who craved them in the Nam I hope they got them. Mine are in the basement. I’ll bet their medals are there too if
they lived to receive them. Thanks for sticking around Dale and liking the reading and making comments.
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim, My medals are stored in an old empty peanut butter jar; I think. Great stories Jim. The future awaits your talented work.
The medals. That stuff. Try explaining some of those write-ups compared to what really happened.
Why most medals end up in a peanut butter bottle. Thanks for going, for coming here and reading the story and liking it.
Semper fi,
Jim
Bud, I was a squad leader with the recon plt, 1/61 Inf, 5th ID during the time frame you mentioned in your post. I recall the the attached cav troop was A 4/12 Cav. I cdon’t remember LZ Vera. Was that a fire base? Where was it located?
Somewhere near Pleiku, if my memory serves. Small firebase. I don’t know what they had there. Maybe 4.2 mortars.
Semper fi,
Jim
5 miles from Du Co and 3 miles from Cambodia! We were sent there as pogie bait! Army was testing out new electronics counter artillery dishes. When we ran into the civilian, in charge, we were really pissed. NVA did not need to bracket LZ Vera, because artillery was already adjusted! Civilian jerk was lucky to make it out alive. We did manage to steal his huge box of apples! Every one, was in on this test except the 1st Platoon and Montagnards! If those two semi-trucks, loaded with 105 mm rounds, had been hit, 150 pe0ple would have died!
Sorry about the ambush and idiocy of the hone office, so to speak.
Did not know that Vera had 105s. Glad you made it my friend.
Thanks for commenting and liking the story.
Semper fi,
Jim
I think reading can be as powerful as watching a wide-screen movie from the front row. The human brain can only process so much info at the same time, that means that you must see it again and again to really see the entire movie. That is why so many of us re-read the passages you write because we don’t want to miss anything. Whether reading a book or watching a movie, for some reason my brain looks for the minute details, the obscure mention of an item(like the boots) because those that miss it will not fully get the point later on. I know the Gunny was not only teaching the new officers a valuable lesson, yet I feel he was basically taking them out of the fight, not to save them but to stop them from screwing up a damn good battle plan. And the twisted side of me is waiting to see how Captain Chaos will handle having new boots added to the new resupply list come morning. Shot, out!
Many re-read the passages, which by the way came as a surprise to me,
to resonate with the vibrations seeping out from the writing.
If you can’t ‘feel’ the work then I didn’t do a good job, because I am sure feeling the story as I tell it all over again.
The dawn is coming and Casey and all that are like a sign post up ahead.
This story is no more bizarre than it was to live, and I cannot believe I am here to tell it,
and able to have a forum to do so.
I have a a totally speckled past, and I have plenty of failures back there, just like in the story.
I am not seeking resolution or forgiveness. I am in search of redemption, and all I can do to get it is try to do good works.
And accept that my definition of what those are will be viewed a whole lot differently, from person to person, than
anyone, including me, might believe.
I, and the Monty Python crew, have a lot in common, when it comes to finding this
reflection of the philosophy of life a whole lot more like that of
Life of Brian than of some brave veteran trying to get satisfaction and adulation near the end.
Semper fi,
Jim
Once you’ve had to lay there & listen to the stuff roll in it’s something I don’t think you can ever forget.
Nothing like it on earth. You just don’t know about death from above and the sound
and vibrations and shit in the air. It is just something else to be ‘danger close’ to the big stuff.
Even being far away from a 52 strike was stunning too. The concussion waves ares so brilliantly fog white
when they blossoms out. Something. Then you come home and nobody knows. Or cares.
Thanks for the comment and understanding.
Semper fi,
Jim
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