“Love child, never meant to be. Love child, always second best.” Brother John, on Armed Forces Radio, presaged the lyrics in his deep baritone voice. A different voice introduced John without actually introducing him. Was John really in Nha Trang, spinning a platter with the latest Supremes’ song on it? The song was as far and distant from the coming dawn as I was from any kind of reality that I wanted to be a part of. I got up, although I could not remember sleeping like I’d been so accustomed to doing back home. I’d merely missed a few hours somewhere. I didn’t feel like I’d slept or was waking up. The sounds of morning gentled their way into my recovered ear canals. I knew I needed some kind of ear plugs for night combat or I was going to go deaf, but then when I thought about it further, I realized that I’d be deaf anyway with the plugs in and I could not afford to be deaf in combat any more than I already was when the firing began.
I poured water into my helmet, setting the liner aside until later. I shaved carefully with no mirror and a mechanically operated double edged razor. The edge was brand new but not sharp. I worked at it intently, trying to forget where I was. I took off my utility top and washed under my arms for no good reason I could think of. I brushed my teeth, spit out the water and was done. I got dressed for the coming day, put my helmet together, strapping the rubber band Fusner had given me around it. Now I had repellent right there at any time anywhere. My utility top still had some wrinkled starch left in it which had nicely absorbed now blackened sweat marks. Shirts or tops were not called that in training. They were called blouses, but I could never think of them that way. Folding up the bottoms of pants, called trousers, at the bottom was called blousing too, for whatever reason.
The day was going to be partly cloudy with the sun soon coming up over the top of Hill 110, our target or objective. I had now seen the hill that had become famous a year before for some attack that had been punishing on some other unit.
Liked the idea of the Fourty five, nice psychology!! As the M60 gunner I also carried one.
We had a possible issue of some guys wanting to beat and rape a young girl we thought may have been VC. My 45 put a stop to all the BS.
The .45 was a true companion and worked every damned time.
No rusted shut cartridge door shit. No jammed rounds in the chamber stuff.
Just there and bang.
Thanks for your support Dave.
Semper fi,
Jim
The command in the rear didn’t care about what it was really like in the field. I used to imagine the battalion commander sitting at his desk with his feet propped having a whiskey and cigar throwing a dart with our company’s name on it. Wherever it landed on the wall map, he would send our company even across our sisters area instead of everyone sliding laterally. It made no sense at times. It wasn’t enemy in front of us and secured friendly behind us. I’m sure you may have experienced going into the same area months later hitting the shit all over again. Your story is riveting and I don’t want to put it down. I put my stepson on to your story’ so he would know what it was like.. He is serving a infantry line company like we did. He has one tour in Afghanistan under his belt and who knows, may have to go again.
A co, 1/327, 101st 68-69
Thanks for commenting Paul. The battalion commanders in my area were in the field but always
way back in reserved behind the companies assigned to do the fighting. The battalion CP was always
staffed by quite a few officers and enlisted assistants. I don’t to this day what any of them did
except avoid going where we had to go.
Semper fi,
Jim
Meant to say enjoying the read, you are certainly good with words, I went over Sep of 69. Was not there to long 30 days two clicks south of DMZ for most of my time there.
I was not a Marine duty I was Army infantry instant NCO and but in the 101 and I was a strait leg, for sure some anomosity arround mt.
Don, really appreciate the interest and comments, and your own service, of course.
Takes one to know one kind of a thing. I will keep plugging away with the exploits of
Chicken Man, as I came to see myself living in that horror.
Semper fi,
Jim
Looking forward to the whole book….sometimes I guess it seems like we all had a bad tour….
Steve, my good friend Chuck Bartok is going to assemble all the days and parts of this odyssey into a book, mostly for the guys who served.
When I’m done writing the segments then we’ll make the book available on this website and also Amazon, although how to do it there is
a mystery right now.
Thanks for asking and being one of us.
Semper fi,
JIM
James,
I didn’t serve, but I must tell you that I have really enjoyed reading your story (on day 4 now). Graduating from college in 68, I had to go into the service (1-A). I remember being concerned with the stories of how the army had deteriorated (drugs, etc.) and that played a big part in my joining the Marine Corps. I did not know this was going on in the Corps. I now consider myself lucky that I was discharged out of Paris Island and didn’t go to PLC in Quantico. I write this to tell you not to restrict your readers to those who served. I have thoroughly enjoyed your writing. You have opened my eyes.
Thanks Rick, and I’m not at all certain that what happened to me was universal to the time or combat itself. The racial stuff was going on all over though,
in different forms. I experienced it some more when I got back stateside. The Marine Corps remains a great background in my life, no matter what.
I don’t restrict the readership, it’s just who comes and I don’t really have the assets to publish myself or the story all over the place.
Thanks for your very cogent and illumination comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
That was some great writing. Quite descriptive. Evoked memories of the little things that I haven’t thought of in years. Thanks. Semper Fi, Brother.
Thanks Jim, for your comment. I know how hard it is to comment on this stuff at all.
I will keep plugging away to deliver the rest of the story….and how i made it.
Semper fi,
Jim
i need to get a copy of this book , not only to read myself , but for my son to read. I was a lowly combat engineer put in some strange situations , but nothing like this at all. We all knew about derelict units , fraggings and people out and out refusing to do their jobs , but i have never talked with any fellow veterans who mentioned anything at all like what you went through.
Chuck, I will make it into a book because my friend Chuck Bartok has agreed to put the whole thing together.
I will not charge veterans for a copy. We are going to work on that very soon. Meanwhile I have to continue to
get it all down. Thanks for your interest add your own service, of course.
Semper fi,
Jim
Great story, Jim. Welcome Home, Brother.
Thank, Kerry. More to come
hmmmm…….Sometimes you have to… “hold your own”, no matter how afraid you are. It seems like you made The Right Call, on This One. Definitely, something to Think about….One Never knows at The Time, but when it is over, and you are shaking so much you cannot even make a cup of coffee, you probably rethink it… over and over and over. So Glad you finally wrote it all down.. Maybe someday, you will find Peace. Thanks Again James for Your Service…….You had quite a Run….Glad you are Still Running !
I think Jim Webb, a company commander on my flank said it best one day. “Jim you’re having a bad tour”, like it was a guided tour for a tourist
or something.
Yes, I had a bad tour…
Semper fi,
Jim