I had the leg strength. I’d always had the legs. The records that had fallen to me in the obstacle course, running, and other military skills during officer candidate school and the Basic School had all been functions of lower body strength and agility. The glacis was a challenge more of balance than it was strength or agility, however. Each step sideways, face and the front of my torso pressed hard into the flat rock, had to be negotiated hesitantly but with pressing haste. There were Marines higher up than and many lower down the angle of our climb.
Climbing in the night was a risk, since the enemy, once it figured out that we were doing, could fire indiscriminately at the rock face, and be almost certain to hit Marines unable to gain any cover or move much of any distance in any direction from where they would be trapped. However, even though supporting fires would be on station, active, and very effective, a single sniper during daylight hours could decimate the company in a much more devastating way. Plus, hunkering down at the base of the face, which at its lowest point where they were, lacked the cave-like fold of undercut earth that the canyon wall had provided further up the valley.
The firing from the enemy started when I figured I was halfway up the glacis. There was nowhere to go. With the pack strapped tightly to my back and my helmet securely on my head, I could not turn from my cliff-facing position. I had to slither along the angled and chiseled path, hammered into solid stone. It was unforgiving in its thin rough presence beneath my boots. I could only slither upward, inch by inch, flinching when I heard bullets actually striking the rock face but I was unable to do anything about it. Nobody had yet been hit or fallen and I didn’t want to be the first. The climb seemed to take hours although I knew it was more likely only a matter of many minutes. I reached the top and was grabbed and grappled up over the lip by many hands. Nobody said anything, as I moved to crawl quickly away from the edge toward where I knew the jungle started.
The top of the cliff was a large open area of jumbled, artillery-shelled and bomb cratered rocky ground. It was as if the entire football field-sized chunk of high ground had been cleared to allow for a sizeable landing zone the largest of the supply helicopters could land on. The helicopters weren’t there or coming unless some kind of arrangement could be made to suppress the many avenues of fire the enemy could concentrate on the place. The 105 battery back in An Hoa was again available for fire, which was the best news, although buffered by the fact that the jutting chunk delineating GoNoy Island from the canyon below was also within the range of the North Vietnamese 106 mm guns.
Previously, when the company had occupied the area before descending down into the valley, we’d set up camp just inside the scrubby jungle area between the open flat land near the edge and the double and triple canopy full jungle that covered the entire interior area like a hundred-foot thick and layered layer of shag carpeting, seemingly hanging upside down. Without consulting me, Kilo had made it up the face of the glacis to occupy that same exact position my own company had abandoned so many weeks before. In the back of my mind alarms were going off. Never occupy the same ground twice in a guerilla environment, particularly not in a jungle environment where the enemy has become more expert and faster at tunneling than the toughest and most persistent of moles. I also realized there was nothing to be done for it until the first light. The entire top surface of the ground in and around the outer edge of the area was occupied, or open to fire, from NVA troops located deeper in the jungle. The only safety at all was from fire that might be generated from down in the valley, as up to now the NVA hadn’t used the kind of heavy mortars it would take to accurately fire from below and deliver death-dealing injuries up top, while what RPG rockets they still might have, were also useless against such a high shielded target.
I re-established contact with the eleventh regimental battery located just to the east of the An Hoa runway. The maximum range of the 105s was about twenty-five kilometers, using charge 8, which the battery didn’t like to use much, as the wear and tear of the chambers of the weapons was much higher. Our position wasn’t that far from the maximum range, although that would change as we moved inland toward the firebase on the following day. The 106 Soviet-supplied guns could reach out farther but were likely much closer in range on the top of the other side of the canyon, although it was anybody’s guess at any given time just how much of an ammunition inventory they had, compared to the near-endless supply available for the 105s.
I registered five grid coordinates for a thousand-meter stretch of the interior jungle running north and south about a thousand meters inland. I wanted whatever forces were in that jungle, probably preparing to attack us, to pay more attention to their own survival rather than ours. The battery was well supplied with concrete piercing shells, the kind that worked best because of the ability of the fuses to be adjusted to go off just milliseconds after the rounds encountered the very top of the jungle’s canopy.
Most of the company, just up from climbing the glacis, were on our stomachs, crawling across the clear but broken area, thankful to be away from the edge and actually looking for some safety inside the jungle itself. Somehow, the Gunny found me in the dark, and stopped my forward progress by grabbing my right ankle.
“This is a mistake, Junior,” he said, keeping his voice modulated to a loud whisper.
“We’ve been here before,” I acknowledged and was about to tell him that we’d done the same thing several times before down in the valley and been okay.
“This is all soft ground, not like the stuff along the bottom edges of the canyon wall down there,” he said, blunting my argument before I could get it out. “They’ve had plenty of time to dig.”
“We don’t have long before first dawn,” I replied, knowing I was handing him a weak excuse for my decision but the alternatives to setting up for the remainder of the night in our current position were severely limited. Either we stayed in the open area where one salvo of enemy artillery could take us out, or penetrated deep into the complete unknown of the thicker jungle the enemy was known to heavily occupy. I found both those alternatives unworkable. We could also keep moving right on through except the Marines had had no rest and no sleep for some time, and once again, the companies would be moving right through an occupied enemy position, and there was no surprise the enemy would likely fall for this time. Once again, I felt we had no choice about what we had to do. Every move we could possibly make was high risk.
“I don’t like it,” the Gunny finished, “okay, let’s get the hell off this beaten zone, no doubt registered to untold numbers of artillery batteries.”
The trouble brought me awake in an instant. I was crouched into the half-hole Fusner had dug for me, with my pack wadded up between my knees and my chest. I was not truly aware of falling asleep but I was fully aware that I was awake, as small arms fired opened up all around me. The company was pouring out fire. The tracers crisscross over my head everywhere, which caused me some confusion. What was everyone shooting at? There was no direction to anything. It was like the company was being attacked from all around at once.
I tried to raise my head to peer about, but the blackness was complete and I could see nothing. The rain had stopped, which was a great relief but everything remained totally soaked, from the mud lining the bottom of my hole to all the foliage around. I unsnapped the strap, releasing my .45, but didn’t move to put it into my hand. I had to know what was going on first. I dug through my pack until I found the M-33 grenade I had kept, pulled it out, and made sure the pin was still in it.
Once more I raised my head, staring out from under the wet lip of my damaged helmet. The tracers could still be seen, racing everywhere but the brilliant white light of them blinded me from being able to see anything else since the hot fast-moving bullets were too distant to illuminate anything close to me.
I needed Fusner in order to bring the pre-planned zone fire online.
“Fusner,” I whispered, knowing he would be nearby.
I didn’t see or hear him until suddenly the area in front of me lit up and a scene was revealed in stop-action like I’d never seen before or even imagined.
An NVA soldier was half-crouched inside a hole, holding the edge of some hinged cover with one hand and a firing AK-47 in the other. The reddish-yellow of the muzzle flashes lit everything in front of me and to both sides. I heard Fusner scream from only feet away. I turned my head but was only able to marginally see him go down, sideways but almost on top of my position. He continued to scream.
I had to get to him. The firing stopped and the night took my vision once again.
I had to get Fusner into what little protection my small hole offered. I crawled toward his downed body, pushing the M-33 down into the left pocket of my utility blouse pocket. Pulling on his feet, I dragged him toward the hole, the tracers still flying, closer and lower now, allowing me to see more of Fusner’s body. He was stitched up and down his torso by so many blood pumping bullet holes that I was stunned he was able to use his voice at all.
“Mom, mom, oh mom,” he cried. “I’m hurt mom.”
I finally got his feet to the hole, knowing deep inside me that I was wasting my time while risking my own life, but I could not leave him in the open. It just wasn’t in me.
I felt the ground suddenly opened again, and immediately fire came from the hinged hole. I reached for the grenade, dropping Fusner’s feet as I turned my body to try to avoid the firing coming from only a few yards in front of me. The bullets took me in the right side and I went instantly down, but I didn’t fall toward where Fusner still lay, screaming for his mother. I fell sideways into the hole.
In spite of what had happened to Fusner and all my time in the A Shau, the bullets took me completely by surprise as did the level of pain. There was no comparing it in my life. It was like someone had inserted red hot rods through my body and they could not be removed. I am not sure if I cried out, as Fusner had. All I could do was curl up into a ball, the M-33 falling out of my pocket, landing on the side of my right hand. I clutched it, using one of the still working fingers on my left hand to pull the pin. Only then did I realize I was incapable of getting the grenade to the hole, even if it gaped open waiting. A pain paralysis froze my hands and arm. I lost awareness of my surroundings for a period of time. A voice nearby brought me to.
The words “stay with us” burned their way into my consciousness, as I fought to comprehend the awful condition of my body and even my state of existence on the planet. The words kept repeating, as I tried to see through a distorted return of fuzzy imagery, the hot pokers penetrating and rifling into the very center of my being. The pain came in waves that I rode as an unwilling surfer, each wave coming at me intolerably and inexorably, my stuttering breaths fighting to somehow survive by willing the troughs of those brutal waves to be something less than the outrageous unsurvivable pain the waves themselves brought.
“Look at me, Junior, and stay with us,” a face said, the being’s beady eyes trying to bore their way into, and then right through, my own.
I tried to mouth the single word “okay” back, but nothing would come out. My breathing was only capable of riding the waves of red-hot pain to bring me to seconds of minutely relieving but never-ending pain.
“You are hit bad through and through and you’ve got to fight it,” the moving mouth inches from my face said. “You’re going out on a Huey right now. You’ll never make it waiting for the big bird.”
Some sort of consciousness, real thinking now foreign to me, came over me as the pain attempted to occupy every shred of every bit of any kind of rational thoughts I might otherwise have. I knew I was hit. I’d seen the NVA soldier rise from his spider hole not ten feet from my position. I’d been moving to try to save Fusner’s life, when the NVA soldier came out of the earth.
In that instant, when the soldier had opened up with his AK-47 the second time, I knew the enemy was coming out of the earth. They’d been waiting, after digging like fiends to prepare, since we’d sheltered down in the same position prior to coming down the face of the wall almost a month before, and they’d been ready. The fire I was trying to find the source of was their fire, as they killed my Marines from the rear while the unit fought against what it believed was fire coming in from outside the perimeter.
The yellow and white blasts from the AK had been like a string of Christmas tree lights coming at me, much slower than bullets were supposed to go. I’d turned a tiny bit to begin attempting to evade the string, but I’d only made that turn with my upper body before running out of time. The bullets hit my side and then were gone. The soldier disappeared as I went down. I wasn’t knocked down like I’d seen in the movies. I’d gone over sideways, but slowly, like a damaged building collapsing from the bottom up.
“I know the pain’s bad, really bad,” the small moving mouth with beady black eyes that wouldn’t leave my own said, “but I can’t give you morphine. Your system will simply shut down and let you die. The pain’s keeping you alive. We’re going to have you on the chopper and out of here in minutes.”
I thought of the morphine in my pocket, the pocket that still held the letter home to my wife I hadn’t been able to get aboard any helicopter since coming to the end of the valley. As the face moved back and away from my shortened visual field of view I managed to get one hoarsely whispered word out. I had to speak. I had to get the face to understand and then take action. I could not access the morphine the face would not give me without being able to use both hands and in my right hand, I held tightly, uncontrollably to something that prevented that hand’s use for anything other than what it was doing. I had to have the morphine and I didn’t care one whit about whether I died or not. I could not take the pain. I would not take the pain.
“Grenade,” I hissed across the short distance to the face.
The Marine stopped his retreat and leaned back down.
“Grenade?” he asked, his wetly smooth forehead furrowed with a deep frown.
“Right hand,” I got out, trying to gesture by nodding my head to the side and down toward my uncontrollably clutching hand, but my head would not move, any more than my hand could or would let go of the M33 grenade I’d pulled out of my right front pocket as I’d gone down from the effect of the bullets striking my torso. Once the hits registered right into the central core of my being, however, my ability to do anything other than pull and discard the pin had been taken from me.
The face disappeared and I went back to trying to ride the scorching awful waves radiating into and out of my shattered body. I was hemmed in. The bullets had to have gone in one side of my torso and out the other because the waves of pain came from those sides into my interior and then seemed to reflect and bounce back to those sides. Time after time, with milliseconds between them.
“Jesus Christ,” a voice I recognized but could not place breathed out. “The pin’s pulled. Easy, easy, use the K-Bar to pry his fingers loose. He’s not going to give a damn about losing fingers at this point.”
I wanted to shout that I did give damn, that I wanted all my fingers, but I couldn’t say anything as the pain waves stole my voice, my breath and even most of my ability to see.
My hand hurt from whatever they did, but that hurt didn’t matter one bit. The waves racking their way back and forth through my body like those of a shaken bottle of coke absorbed that hurt like it was a bit of remote matter too inconsequential to be anything more than being noticed in a minor way.
“Get the lid up and that thing down in the hole,” a loud voice screamed.
Through the waves of white-hot heated pain, I felt and heard a loud explosion. I couldn’t remember hearing the explosions that had to have been occurring when the bullets came out of the AK and on into me, but the sound of the grenade going off was unmistakable.
The face leaned back in for a few seconds, “Got any more surprises, Junior? By God, you were a piece of work in your time,” and then was gone.
My ears rang, but I was used to that. The face’s words; “You were a piece of work in your time,” ate their way through the pain, and on into some still open recess of my fractured mind. He’d used the past tense. Was my time of being alive over? I felt a familiar sickening bolt of fear rush its way from the bottom of my feet to the top of my roiling and shattered being.
The face was gone, the explosion far back in my somehow time-slowed existence. I was alone. There were no more sounds coming from Fusner. The corpsmen hadn’t even bothered with him at all. I knew he was dead. Nobody could live through the number of hits he’d taken at such close range. Taken for me. Taken because of me. Only bitter awful regret could power its way through and between the waves of racking pain that continued to penetrate and occupy every remaining bit of my living being.
I worked my left hand over and down with impossible effort, the surging power of its goal overcoming iron strength of attempted life-stopping power of the surf-riding, nearly overwhelming, force of the pain.
The morphine. I clutched the small box containing the styrettes. The face had said that administering morphine would kill me.
I felt the plastic bag next to the morphine box, as I worked to get it out of my wet pocket, with difficulty. I felt my letter home. I could not die. What would my wife and new daughter do without me? There was no money on her side of the family and my side of the family wasn’t likely to share a thin dime. My wife had worked three times in her life during college to help pay tuition. Once in a potato factory, once in a pet store, and once as a recess director at a summer park. She’d done remarkably well at those foundational and terrible-paying jobs. There was little hope that she might find something to support herself and our daughter without me. I could not die, but I could not take the pain. It was simply too awful, and, in spite of what the face had said, I knew, in what was left of my rationality, that the morphine was very likely the only thing that might keep me alive.
I fumbled the package out, shredding the cardboard box as I did so while bringing my freed upright hand over atop my agonized torso to grasp the tiny styrette. I breathed, and then breathed deeply again to get to a near-instantly passing trough between the giant waves of unbearable pain. I flicked the plastic cover off the top of the tube and then, as gently as my forced, cut and shaking fingers could do it, I got the tiny metal stopper out of the end of the needle, wondering at the same time about the fingers I couldn’t see that had to still be there if I was able to do what I was doing.
I punched the needle of the tube into my stomach. There was no way I could bend my torso to get the drug into my thigh. I knew from long experience with the company in combat that one styrette wasn’t going to be enough. I pawed with my left hand and found another stuck in the mud covering my stomach. I punched a second styrette into nearly the same place the first one had gone. I knew that three styrettes was death for someone of my size. If I was to die from taking the two then it was a death meant to be. I would not do the three. My letter home to my wife still had to be posted, and I was duty-bound to get it in the mail. She, and my daughter, were all I had to hold onto and I wasn’t about to let them go.
The waves of fire-hardened pain began to come down from their vaulting heights as the morphine began to do its job. My breathing began to change from the sucked and vacated packets of spewing jungle air it had been to a level where my torso no longer beat itself up and down against the jungle floor.
Slowly, ever so slowly, I worked my head up and eased my bleeding torso over the edge of the hole, creeping inch by inch to drag the rest of myself toward where Fusner lay. I ignored his body, the fingers on my undamaged right hand searching for the radio microphone. I found it, still clutched in his left hand.
I breathed deeply in and out, knowing that my life was most probably being very temporarily extended only because of the morphine deadening everything in my body. I squeezed the button on the mic.
“Fire mission,” I rasped into the thing, hoping Fusner had adjusted the frequency to the artillery net.
“Fire mission” came right back. Fusner had left the external speaker on. I nodded in my misery. If he hadn’t left the speaker on then I wouldn’t have been able to hear the other side of the conversation.
“Is that you, Junior?” a familiar voice asked.
It was Russell, from my Basic Class back at Quantico. The same one who always asked how I was doing out in the field, and I couldn’t tell him.
“On the gun target line, Russell,” I replied, trying to concentrate. “Drop one thousand on the zone fire and fire for effect.”
I’d set the zone to run along the flank of our position a thousand meters to the east. I had figured out in an instant what had happened to the company and why Fusner was dead and I was dying. The enemy had tunneled under our previous position, in the hopes that one day or night we would return. The Gunny, who was also likely dead, had been right again. All the firing I’d been hearing, much of it died out and as likely gone as my Marines, had been coming from inside our lines. The enemy had been everywhere around us in the night, but only they had known that. It meant they were also everywhere in the night around me at that instant. The occasional shots I was hearing were the enemy performing cleanup. Killing any wounded they found in the night, which also meant they eventually get to me.
“What’s your position, Junior?” Russell asked.
I knew he was asking because of the artillery rules of engagement. He had to know the edge of the cliff was not far enough away to allow the fire.
“We’re still down in the valley, about to scale the wall,” I replied, hoping the battery had not been monitoring the combat net.
“Roger that,” Russell said, instantly. I knew he knew I was lying, just from the speed of his agreement and his light feathery tone.
“Bye, Russell,” was all I could get out before dropping the mic and beginning the short torturous agony of crawling back into my hole. The hole and my morphine were all I had left in the world, and hell was coming like a series of giant exploding anvils to take even those.
I heard the enemy, and then the rain. The enemy was talking among themselves nearby, which meant the decimation of the company had to be all but complete. The rain began to come down in sheets as I worked to control the white-hot pain, working against the morphine to reach deeper inside me. I heard a few very close shots and closed my eyes to wait. Then, as clear as the sound of two sharp peeling little bells, the words “shot, over,” come from Fusner’s radio speaker.
The voices of the enemy soldiers became louder. I knew they had to be gathering near Fusner’s body. There were more shots, this time deafening, but it didn’t matter because the next two radio bells spoke clearly across the short distance to me “splash over.”
I counted backward out loud, no longer caring about the enemy.
I never reached the word ‘one.’ The world exploded around me. Everything went white, then black and then white again and again. I was thrown above the hole and then out of it. I tried to crawl back inside but the morphine, in taking a good deal of the pain, had also taken whatever strength I had left. All I could do was lay on my back, the rain pounding down upon my face. I licked my lips as more explosions occurred around me. I knew I was deaf because I couldn’t hear the detonations at all.
The giant bright flashes let me see the many bodies strewn around my exposed position. I didn’t know if they were NVA soldiers or Marines, except for Fusner. I could also get glimpses of the hinged cover hanging near the hole the enemy soldier had popped up from to kill Fusner and grievously wound me.
I had to stay awake if I was to survive. I had to ride the pain, as it came in waves. I was a surfer and the areas between the great swells were friends to me. Up and down, agony to bearable misery. I breathed and worked to control my own blood pressure. I had to be bleeding terribly inside. Multiple torso wounds were invariably terminal primarily because of the loss of blood. I didn’t move my hands to feel the wounds. I simply lacked the coordination to make my hands react properly. All I could do was hold my sides as if I was holding myself together in some sort of death grip.
The morphine allowed me enough distance from the pain to reflect while I waited. I’d lost my company and probably Kilo, as well. As I waited for the sound of the helicopters that would eventually come, I thought of the Gunny, of Jurgens, Sugar Daddy, and especially about Fusner.
I thought of Captain Hrncr, back at St. Norbert’s, and one of his maxims of combat. Never ever encamp where you camped previously. The sin of my violating that inflexible rule would die with me if I died, or live with me for the rest of my life if I lived. There was no more activity that I could sense from the enemy. The rain came down directly on my face. I thought of taking more morphine but then figured that the arriving choppers, if they got there while I was still alive, might overdose me if I was not coherent. I could see no light but I realized my hearing was coming back. I heard the first sound of aircraft approaching. It was not the sound produced by great whirling blades and turbines. I finally recognized the sound as coming from a large supply plane. I laid my head to one side. They knew back in the rear what had happened. They were sending Puff the Magic Dragon to make sure the chopper teams were not encountered by an active enemy.
My war was over.
LT
Thank you for your service to your men in the valley and to all of us who have followed you through your second ‘HELL’. You have helped heal many of us (The silent readers) and enlightened others on what war is about. Thanks from a 30+ year Army vet that has seen wars come and go from Nam through Afghanistan. Many different types of vets, but all hide the horrors.
Grand kids bought me the hard copies of Thirty Days 1st and 2nd. Waiting for the 3rd to complete the set. Then when C19 lets you, will meet up with you on one of your tours, to get them autographed.
Keep up the excellent work on “The Cowardly Lion”. ( Not a coward writing it)
Thanks so much for your comment Arby. The third should be here in hard cover by next week.
You can order through the website or you can pay by check with a note and check sent to 507 Broad Street,
Lake Geneva, WI. 53147.
Semper fi,
Jim
Is that it? That’s the end?
No, you must read on. The Cowardly Lion continues the saga after the nightmare of the 30ieth day. Read on, please.
Semper fi,
Jim
LT,
Read every word from the very first. Sometimes difficult, sometimes painful but always brilliant. Served with the 1st Mar Div, arriving Da Nang 50 years ago this month. Fortunate I never was in you “Valley”. Thank you for excellent writing. Look forward to The Cowardly Lion. I’m sure I will identify with that, as well.
Doc 70.
YEs, that last chapter was sure tough. It took me months to write and then rewrite it so many times, until my wife simply sent it off without my knowing.
She’s been there all the way along. I just wish every vet coming home had a Mary waiting for him…
Semper fi,
Jim
I finally finished your story. I had to stop because I new what was going to happen and I could see it all as it was taking place in my mind just like I was watching it on tv. Lt. You had a bad time like a real nightmare but the best thing out of it you got to come home to your family and tell your story to the world. Semper Fi.
Thanks Walter, much appreciate the comment here. Yes, the finish was hard, now and back then too…
Thanks for coming along for the ‘ride,’ and hope you follow The Cowardly Lion coming out later this week (first chapter) too…
Semper fi
Jim
change of email address notice. I don’t want to miss anything. former address was xxxx.cox.net, but now xxx.windstream.net
Bernie,
Chuck checked and it shows you unsubscribed this address today?
Let’s start over
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Thanks for your support.
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim, as you know I am a slow thinker. I like to let what I’ve read “percolate” and process it from all vantage points. All I can tell you is that I have been overwhelmed by your story from the beginning. I have no point of reference to anchor your story to. All I can do is simply tell you that I am honored that you allowed me to accompany you on this journey. I think there are several topics that we disagree on, but I know you have earned the right to hold those different points of view, and fought for my privilege to do the same. Thank you for taking me on this journey.
It has been the exercise of my entire life to get this series written and now out. But it’s been very healing and formative, as well, and I did not expect that. I also id not expect ever to finish, as I closed on the final chapter. That same wife I wrote to all those times while down in the valley, had everything to do with this being finished. She also sat at a formal party wherein one veteran, not of the war, criticized the work as not being possible or accurate. She spent ten minutes with the guy, at which point he left never to be seen again. Her perspective was from her experience of living through it all with me. Undeniable and powerful. Thanks for the neat compliment and for writing it on here. Yes, I am not the conservative I once was and hope to be again…but the party and its beliefs will have to come back to me as I am not going to them.
Semper fi
Jim
Have followed your every word and am stunned to tears as I read the last chapter. I looked Fussner up on the Vietnam Memorial and said a prayer for him and his family from a Grateful Nation.
I was 6-10 years old when my father did two tours in Vietnam. He would write us weekly on the stationery you described. I am now the keeper of all those letters as my mother passed years ago. I also have the log books that he kept of his battles and it reads nothing like the letters. The letters seemed so hopeful and refreshing.
His logs read like your story. They are blood and mud stained and describe the carnage of a young Infantry Officer losing hundreds of soldiers in the mayhem of war. The disparity between his letters home, his log books, and media articles seem like they come from different worlds.
He never spoke of the war. The pain was buried deep. But I wanted to learn what he did to earn Silver Stars, Bronze Stars and Purple Hearts. I had to know why his emotional pain was so deep. Even though I went on to do 20 years as a soldier, my wars were nothing compared to what the combat vets of Vietnam endured. Your books and experience helped educate me.
I vividly remember my mother reading the letter to us when my father was shot in the neck. I did not understand what wounded meant–I only knew about the neighbors’ fathers who were killed. I assumed that all wounded people also died. Fortunately, my father recovered and finished out his military career–but he never spoke of it.
You bring the war to life as no one ever has, in so many horrifying ways.
I cannot relate to your pain or burden, it is so much deeper than I can ever comprehend. But know that so many of us try to understand. You and your men are remembered daily by so many of us and we pray you find peace.
We have learned as a Nation to never treat our warriors like we treated our Vietnam veterans. I hope we can ease the pain of you and your men and their familes.
Stay Strong
I hope you don’t mind that I put this comment up on the Facebook site. Everything you wrote, what a wondrous tome about your own life and
also so complimentary about the work. My sincerest thanks.
Semper fi,
Jim
Semper Fi, Marine. Post away
Jim,
Thank you so much for this story that I’ve been enjoying for the last couple years. I’m about to go back and start from the beginning. Can’t wait for part II to come out to see where you go from here. Do you plan on having an audiobook for this in the future?
Thank you for your service and everything you have endured because of it. I can’t even think how putting these words to paper effected you. I look forward to possibly meeting you on your road trip, should we ever get back to normal(probably right after the election). If you ever need a driver, let me know.
Cpl Beach (US Army K-9 92-97)
We absolutely need a driver. Most of us think we can drive a big rig
but the truth is we need somebody who really does have experience and will keep the thing on the road and safe.
Thanks so much.
And thanks for the kind words and compliment and for putting it up on here.
The first chapter of The Cowardly Lion will go up next week and I look forward to your comments on that.
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
James, I bought the first two books and want to buy the third. When will it be available? This was a great story, well written. Thanks.
It should be available in print within 3 weeks as of today.
We will announce on Social Media and our subscribers will also get notice.
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Semper fi,
Jim
Thanks Lieutenant!
That had to be a “copper plated bitch” to live over.
Outstanding story!
At that time, I was section chief, gun #1, “C” Battery, 1st. Bn.,14th Marines, (Reserves) and our 105 mm was only good for about 11 klicks, at max (charge 7).
My next enlistment, I volunteered to be a Scout Sargent, so I suspect the 25 klick range you gave, comes from a 155, or 175 mm, gun.
Great story, well told. I am “standing by” for the epilogue!
Actually, the guys back at battery would occasionally fire charge 8 and 9 if conditions warranted it as both of those ‘overcharges’ do not
exceed the cupric pressure maximums of the chamber or tube of that very tough gun. Charge 8 was supposedly good for 18 clicks and 9 for 25. I was on the receiving
end of the fire in Vietnam. In training, at Sill, we never exceeded charge 7. I never received charge 9 rounds. That was the talk back then, however.
Semper fi, and thanks for being one of us…and writing on here.
Jim
“Weight Of Memory” – the final episode title of the Ken Burns Vietnam War story. This last chapter helps me understand what that title means, and why finishing this story was so hard. Thank you for sharing it all with us.
Ken Burns, in order to get his material, had to use a lot of mythological constructs to support the military
and I did not, not that I didn’t support and enjoy the work he did.
Thanks for the comment and mentioning him.
Semper fi,
Jim
LT,
Congratulations on finishing the third book!
I can’t wait to read The Cowardly Lions to see what happens to the others.
Cheers,
Clair
Next week, I will put up the first chapter of TCL (The Cowardly Lion).
Thanks for the support and kind words here…
Semper fi
Jim
Jim, I took a day before writing to understand my mixed thoughts of the war of our generation experienced and so vividly written here. Never have I been more affected personally by any publication. Sorrow for those young men killed, wounded & the living combat veterans still involved with their unshakable memories. Anger that they were in Vietnam and left with a total conviction that war is to be avoided unless circumstances directly confronts our county. I recognized early in your writing that your writing & experience would impact many people, combat veterans & people in general who did not have a clue. Thanks for your strength in writing and delivering a perspective to all that have read your series. As others have expressed, God may have spared you to have enlightened us all. Looking forward to Cowardly Lion.
Yep! One quart and two days to read. It was with extreme pleasure to have served with Marines and to have helped in any way I could. I have had to keep my memories locked away in a safe place.It’s very nice for you to be able to share yours. Semper fi, Doc Reinhardt
LT, I haven’t chimed in here for some time as you have had quite a cadre of editors and assistants that have along with you ‘Been There….Done That’. After finding your post of the third day in the beginning the last 3 and 1/2 years ago we have done a lot of living on this side of the valley. Me with my Open Heart Valve and Aneurysm surgery and you with your challenges. For a time I wasn’t sure if we would reach this point at all or together. I congratulate you for pushing through the many obstacles both external and internal and getting us to this point in the story. Hate having to wait for the Lion to get the many questions answered.
Here it is 2:30 AM. I reread the last chapter about 2 hours ago and went to the garage to think and smoke. A few names came to mind like Navy corpsman Joe Doc Baker killed by small arms fire while helping his marines, WO Tex Yonika shot down flying a small nibble chopper searching for enemy positions. Then I wondered why God spared some like you and me. Had we been able to continue the fight we may well have been KIA. I believe He spared you to write these books for many reasons. Yes, they brought back some demons we wish not but they did much more good. Many of the demons have been accepted by some, many were brought together here even though we never have and never will meet in person. The books will also give some an idea of what war, especially the war of our generation was like. This history will now be known forever. We are different, I keep my demons inside, you have hopefully released yours at least partially. My VA shrink, a pretty young lady, says I’m depressed and have anger issues. I’m not depressed but there are anger issues that are probably rooted in my 2 tours. Really, what the hell could she know from books and liberal lectures? We are getting up in age and it all of us will be gone before too many more years, glad the books will be out there and on the internet forever.
Fussner’s father ~~ a classmate and neighbor was killed in Nam on Christmas Eve while I was home after my 1st tour. It was suggested my family not show up at the funeral and the neighbors never spoke to or acknowledged me or my family again. Grief? We came home and their son did not? Maybe I’ll ask my shrink one day! A lot of shit going through my head tonight, guess I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight if sleep comes at all.
Thanks jaw. Thanks doesn’t quite get it, I know. These are tough emotional times that also dredge up our emotions burned in from the past. For me too.
Thanks for writing what you wrote and the great compliment of putting down that my books might be a window to the past for those coming in the future.
Semper fi, my brother and friend,
Jim
Will there be anything more about afterwards? Did the Gunny make it? Did Jergens make it, etc.?
Glad you’re continuing to write
Welcome Home Jim. You most definitely earned that Freedom Bird ride.
Glenn.
Will write more later. Gotta get my poop in a group first.
My ‘bird’ was a Starlifter, and I rode home in a plastic bag attached to the fuselage wall loaded on morphine. The good news was that my wife was waiting
at Norton AFB for me. The not so good news was that I had changed so much she literally could not identify me and we had to talk a bit to allow her to make
sure. Who says people don’t change!
Semper fi, and thanks for the comment, of course.
Jim
If every a story demanded an Epilogue this one does.
You attached us to the other characters like Gunny and Nguyen and then leave the scene with us assuming the worst????
The epilogue is called The Cowardly Lion, and I will be putting up the first chapter
next week, as I have done with the entire 30 days series. Yes, you will find out about Nguyen and the Gunny and the rest.
Thanks for caring and bringing that up.
Semper fi,
Jim
I’m glad you’ll keep writing
Well done, sir. After I stumbled across a day six or so of the First Ten, I had no choice but to go back and read it from day one and hang in for the duration. I wrote and told you it was, in some oddly lyrical sense, like talking with my I Corps Marine brother; dead from AO cancers in 2011. That didn’t change: the more you wrote, where ever that hole is in my heart or my head or memory or life; we sat together and heard your story. Thanks for that.
Looking forward to the next part of your story.
The depth of you comment did not escape me, nor the enormity of your compliment.
I cannot thank you enough, and yes, I am there in a sense with you…and your brother…
Semper fi,
Jim
Thank you for sharing your story with us.
I’ve read quiet a bit in my 59 years. Every now and then I come across words on a page that were born in the agony of life and washed in the blood of that agony. These kinds of words grab you and shake you. Your words are such words.
God bless and keep you …
Thanks Keith, your words are of iron, and that comes from The Outlaw Josey Wales, one of my favorite movies.
Means a lot to me that my words mean a lot to you and that you write of such things on here. Most of the guys who write write almost
nowhere else and there’s a compliment in that too.
Semper fi,
Jim
Hey Lt Just finished reading Thirtieth Day and while I will never be completely able to understand or relate to what you endured I must thank you for allowing me along for the ride these last three years or more. Conversations with my father following my 67/68 tour in Nam I learned a lot in comparing his WWII stories with mine. Your descriptions and insights have brought me one step closer to a better knowledge and meaning of it all as it rests in my mind. I still have no idea how either of you survived with your sanity in tact. Will look forward to Cowardly Lion and hope to learn more of the aftermath. Especially with regard to some of the others with whom you served. Much respect to you Sir and thanks again!!
It would be hard, I now realize, not to have reached so many who had the same experiences of misery in and out of the valley.
The physicality of it was overwhelming, and then there was the enemy from without and the racial troubles within.
Thanks for the great comment and the compliment you intended by it.
Semper fi,
Jim
Very well done sir ,it seems as if i have been there with you through those 30 days . Cant wait for the next book.
TCL (The Cowardly Lion) will begin on here next week.
Thanks for caring, the compliment and also the attention of writing on here…
Semper fi,
Jim
Thank you Lt. for your service, your suffering, and this book. I read every new chapter from the beginning, and knew you were struggling to get this last chapter out. I regret all you and your men went through. I enjoy your musings and wisdom in your personal posts. Good luck with your new writings, stay healthy, and stay with us.
Kemp
Thanks H. Kemp, and also for the many comments of support you have made in the past.
I shall endeavor to persevere to work away at the The Cowardly Lion….
Semper fi,
Jim
Lt, thanks for sharing your story. The ending was as abrupt and terrifying as it must have been in real life. I can see why it took many re-writes to say what you were feeling. I felt an affinity for Fussner through out the story. Perhaps because I was an Army radio teletype operator 70-72. Through the luck of the draw I was sent to Germany rather than Vietnam which was probably for the best since I don’t think I could have performed as stoically as he did. So when I learned that you used his real name I looked him up. I knew your story was true but when I saw his picture the reality of it really hit home for me. Thanks for telling his story and yours. Looking forward to the rest of the story. Best regards.
In truth, sometimes Jimmy, I would like it all to be a great grand fiction that I researched beyond description and then wrote as a novelist. Yes, Fusner, the Gunny, Sugar Daddy, Jurgens and the rest were and remain real in my mind. i guess the ‘patina’ of reality penetrates through the work, as I get very few vets that call me a fake or the material unlikely, at best. Happens, but oh so rarely. The truth is in the details. I visited Fussners’s parents after I got out of the hospital in Oakland. They lived in Sausalito across the Golden Gate bridge. I sat in their living room and told them the truth of what he had meant to me and what happened that night. His dad exploded, when I talked about how he had asked so plaintively for his mom before he died. That was a mistake on my part. His dad grabbed me, dragged me to the front door of the condo and threw me down the steps. I still had open wounds from the surgeries so I could only lay there and recover. My wife made me swear to God that I would never ever again go to one of the survivors of the men whom I served with who did not make it. I have never done it again.
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim, you have been so generous to open your self up to us. That experience with the dad must have been very painful both physically and mentally. Forgive me if this comes across as an insensitive question but looking back at that experience and considering the responsibility you felt towards your Marines, do you feel that any part of that experience was therapeutic.
Very difficult question Jimmy. The experience itself, was life scorching and then training about humanity at the lowest levels of basal survival. The real therapy has been
since I started writing the series and then found so many vets who not only understood but had trod in my boots, in that valley and in other places not dissimelar. I am no
longer alone and that kind of thrapy no VA shrink can give you. Thanks to all of your on here. Means life to me.
Semper fi,
Jim
I’m stunned and angered and disheartened that Fusner’s father would treat you that way. I’m sure Fusner would NEVER have wanted his dad to act like that towards you. It was obvious that he had a true love and respect for you and I suspect pride in that he was able to help “show you the ropes” of survival in that hell hole valley. At the same time I feel for his father who was obviously crushed from losing his son and had great anger as well and didn’t know how or where to vent it.
You just happened to be the target in front of him.
I visited the mother of a buddy I lost in Vietnam when I got home. When she opened the door to meet me she lunged forward and gave me the deepest, most loving hug I’ve ever had and sobbed in my arms. I knew she felt that me coming there was like her son coming home. Then she composed herself and we had the best visit imaginable. We stayed in touch for years until her death and I cherished that relationship.
I always thought somehow my buddy knew and was smiling down on us.
I hope you later were able to forgive his father…..as a parent I’m sure you understood some of his anger and grief.
You’re a good man James Strauss…….you make me proud to be a Marine. Semper Fi…
That was a tough day and will be recounted in more detail as TCL (The Cowardly Lion) begins to be laid down and available.
The first chapter is done this night and I will be going at it hot and heavy, the release from finishing 30 Days so very
real and warmly felt. Thanks for the really great comment and the sympathy. We were so young and inexperienced in life back
then. I never felt any anger or negative thoughts about Fusner’s parents. The love they had for that kid was even deeper than
my own. you cannot go against that and it can’t be faked.
Appreciate the compliments, as well…
Semper fi,
Jim
Dear Jim, This has been a long and difficult three years (?). I started with chapter 1, I think. I see why the last chapter took so long. The way I see it, you didn’t have a chance to move elsewhere, and no place to go. Out manned, out gunned, and surrounded. No blame belongs to you, as sometimes, these situations are the fortunes of war. You fought a good fight against an enemy that was willing to take an unlimited number of casualties as you had out maneuvered and out thought them for a month, and they were determined to do anything to destroy you. That fight is over, now its time for the next one. Semper fi, Lt. Joe Mann
Yes, analytically, I know you are correct in your analysis Joe. We really did have nowhere to go, although any other place, no matter how bad it looked would have probably turned out to be better than
what happened. No way to predict that, I know. Thanks for pointing that out. Yes, the first part of the fight is over and the second grinding dynamic adventure begins…
Semper fi,
Jim
Yep, nothing good sometimes… Only some luck or not and in some divine providence…
Yes, how true Terrance. Thanks for the comment, and I do understand it well…
Semper fi,
Jim
As a DUSTOFF medic that served in the Central Highlands from December 70 – September 71, I saw Life and Death dancing together many times, never knowing when the music would stop or when one would choose me as their partner. From the first chapter till the last, I was hooked on your story. Having never been a ground pounder I could not stop reading it. It was like seeing a horrible wreck and you can’t force yourself to turn away. It brought back a lot of memories and a lot of tears. I will be awaiting The Cowardly Lion. If it’s about your return and your reactions to those around you, it may be better titled The Sleeping Lion. Thanks for sharing.
Coming home. It was not sleep. Survival back in the culture for someone like Junior required a great dead of non-action. Of escape. Of apology. Of being anything but Junior,
although Junior lurked, as he lurks today…waiting, waiting, ever waiting.
Thanks for the great supportive comment and looking forward to TCL (The Cowardly Lion).
Semper fi,
Jim
What an incredible story James the most riveting writing so far.
Can’t wait to start the cowardly lion book series.
Keep up the great fight brother.
Chuck
Thanks a lot Chuck, for the compliments and putting it up on here.
Semper fi,
Jim
LT, I wasn’t in the A Shau area. I spent 2 years in country in Da Nang, Phu Bai, Pleiku, and Bien Hoa. Your descriptions of both the jungle and personnel were so vivid it brought me back in country. Your narrative shows how difficult you and your marines experience was. God bless those you lost. Happy you made it home to your wife and child.
Semper Fi!
’68-’72, 0331, G 2/5
Thank you Richard. Your words mean a lot and some of that meaning comes from the fact that you too were boots on the ground in that one.
The A Shau is actually a smallish valley, only about 25 miles from end to end and the width was as narrow as a few hundred meters in places.
Most Marines in Vietnam never saw the inside of that charnel house.
Next book is called The Cowardly Lion and I will be putting up free chapters (like with 30 Days) here beginning next week.
Semper fi,
Jim
You may have addressed this already but when will this book be out on kindle?
Looking for the Kindle (it will be available direct from the website also) within 2 weeks.
Thanks for your support
Semper fi
Jim
Lt Strauss, I’ve been following your story since you started it. I am so sorry for what you and your men went through and the terrible reception when you got home. I’ll never understand that. So many of your men lost and for what? It would be hard for me to not carry a chip on my shoulder having gone through what you did. If I may ask, unless it would ruin “The Cowardly Lion”, did you stay in touch with Gunny or any of your men? I must say, he really knew his shit, bar none.
Take care, sir.
Tom Gray
We’ve conversed before in the comments and I must say once again “Many Thanks” for your service and sharing your experience . Reading your last installment really shook me up. I was a kid when the war was going on, so I had no idea of the horror except for the battles and body counts that flashed on the 5:30 news with Walter Concrite. I feel like crying now, just shaking my head at the misery you went through and what’s ahead. God bless you.
Thanks Tom. Yes, there’s misery ahead in the next book, but it was dark misery with a light always at the end of that tunnel…and my family
waiting or right there with me. Got me through. Always have felt terrible for those coming back with nobody there…
The Cowardly Lion will be the next tome and it is all about the recovery.
Thanks for writing and thanks for being a loyal fan…
Semper fi,
Jim
You are right Tom, I will cover that in the Lion and not right here in comments.Some of my Marines made it, and the number is higher, since many have reached out to me in private comments, than I thought early on. All in the Lion. Thanks for the kind words and the asking.
Semper fi
Jim
I, and we, have waited for this last chapter to be done, I just read it with my morning coffee and understand why it took time to write. Your description of the injuries really have impacted me and I felt like I was an actual part of that night. I did not serve (could not; nearly blind in left eye) in the Armed Forces, but I was a firefighter and paramedic for 27 years and saw just about every injury possible. But I never could feel their pain. Your writing now makes me understand how much they suffered. It is redundant to say, but your writing is excellent and nothing like I have ever read. It draws one in to become part of the action. Sadness is all I can say for Fusner not making it home alive. He was a vital part of your team and he absolutely respected you. He was your right hand man, microphone always at the ready. I will order the signed hard cover set as soon as they are ready. I also look forward to the next book.
Thanks for the kind and understanding words here Donald. Thank you so much and I will make sure the date when the books are available, both hard and soft
cover, is made known to you.
Semper fi,
Jim
Heck of a ride. Thank you for hanging in there LT. I was beginning to wonder if we would ever see the thirtieth day. Now I understand.
Ken
I was showing my girlfriend the first two books yesterday and trying to explain the series to her. Now I get a shock at three o’clock the next morning when the final chapter shows up on my E mail . I want to thank you for finishing the series even though it obviously was putting a strain on you . I am looking forward to the next book to see how Junior reconciles himself with his experience.
The Cowardly Lion is the next book and it takes its name from the Wizard of Oz and the lion in that. I had to become the cowardly
lion when I came home because none, absolutely none, of the tools, tactics and strategy I brought together to survive the A Shau
could not be used back here without draconian punishment if not death. Thanks for the neat words written on here…
Semper fi,
Jim
The best I can say is “wow”! All through the three books, you wonder how I will end – and then it does. This was an epic literary journey. I’ve sung your praises before, Jim. So let me just add thanks for finishing this marathon. NB.
Thanks Nick, and yes, I have read your comments before and much enjoyed them.
Semper fi,
Jim
Had to be the toughest chapter. Waiting on the chopper was tough. The corpsman told the 3 others waiting for medivac “You’re going home”. When he finished with me he said “Your war is done, Sarge”. Figured he meant I’d not make it home. Hopefully, you had great doctors and nurses, I sure did over all those months in hospitals. I’ve been with you here from the beginning. You brought back many memories some good and some not so good. This one I know was your toughest as it was for me also. I’m very happy you wrote this. I have never said a word about my 1 3/4 tours except a little here and never will. One confession ~ my brother is 8 years younger than I. If he was going to have to go I was considering crushing a foot or something to make him 4F. Those that have gone back are stronger than I.
I have soft and hardcover of the 1st 2 volumes, anxiously anticipating the 3rd.
God bless, you have done more with this than you will ever know.
Thanks for the depth and meaning of your great comment jrw. You have been ‘down in the valley’ for certain and I know you
get it all as I have laid it down. The next book, The Cowardly Lion, about my survival, medical odyssey and re-rentry back into
the culture should be riveting for you…as you went through that too…
Semper fi,
Jim
I’ve been afraid all along that Fusner wouldn’t make it. You already had my deepest respect and gratitude for the lessons and truths in these books. Getting this one written just adds more to that respect.
I’ll be waiting to order the book as soon as it’s available.
The Cowardly Lion will be the next tome and it is all about the recovery.
Thanks for writing and thanks for being a loyal fan…
Semper fi,
Jim
We’re going to get an after action report right?
The Following Book, “The Cowardly Lion” opens on the last moments in the A Shau, then off to hospitals, discharge,
and the ‘transition’ to civilian life.
Thank you for your support, Sam
Semper fi,
Jim
James
Great writing. You are superb storyteller with a natural skill for pacing. You give vivid descriptions allowing a reader -combat vet or a citizen the feelings of combat and explaining what the descriptions mean
The one thing that touched me is your writing resembles the mind under fire where the world you see slows down and twenty seconds seems like an hour
So glad you made it out
Thanks Rich, means a lot to get comments like yours…so penetrating and understanding.
The Cowardly Lion will be the next tome and it is all about the recovery.
Thanks for writing and thanks for being a loyal fan…
Semper fi,
Jim
Honestly, I cannot describe my feelings. While your age, I am not a veteran. I am not sure how I began reading your story but have followed it assiduously, reading and re-reading. I hope you are well, and thank you for all you have done. Onward!
Thanks so much Jack, for the reading and the analysis you have given the works.
The Cowardly Lion will be the next tome and it is all about the recovery.
Thanks for writing and thanks for being a loyal fan…
Semper fi,
Jim
Thank you Lt. I am sure this was the most difficult chapter to write.
I have been following since chapter 7 or 8 a long time ago. It has been a long journey of discovery for you and every one who has found and read your writings, so far. So many more will find your story for years to come and be able to experience and feel how combat in Vietnam really was like. Hopefully, never to be experienced like that by future generations. It should be required reading for military service!
You have helped many fellow veterans along your journey deal with issues buried deep for a long time. I have read all of the comments to know that is true. Thank you to all that have served.
I will be following your future story as I have for over 3 years. I will also be ordering another set of books when they are ready.
Thank you Lt. Strauss.
It is sometimes hard for me to understand just how many people read these comments! Maybe I ought to be more circumspect in what I write
Thanks you Gary for your comments. I am also amazed, like in reading your words, just how good at writing so many of the vets are who
put stuff on here. Following the last chapter of 30 Days I am also buoyed up by how many say they will read the Cowardly Lion. I was
afraid that nobody would continue once the actual agonizing combat was over. Thanks for the help with that.
The Cowardly Lion will be the next tome and it is all about the recovery.
Thanks for writing and thanks for being a loyal fan…
Semper fi,
Jim
” Captain Hrncr” is this a real name? Thank you for writing this, I did 62 to 70 USMCR, most of it training for Vietnam in the 4th Mar. Div. The training was enough for us to know pretty much what we could expect when we got over there, (with the exception of being actually shot at). The way you told this story brought many forgotten memories of how miserable life in the field could be. Sorry that you had to lose Fussner that way.
I’ll be looking forward to the rest of the story.
Semper Fi
Hrncr was from what is now Serbia so the name spelling is accurate.
We used to giggle at it because he was Army and wore a big name tag over his right breast.
He was tough as nails though that none of us ever made a comment to his face or laughed about his name in his presence.
I went back to see him at St. Norbert’s when I got out of the hospitals.
He walked with me on campus to his next class.
We didn’t say much.
He finally told me that if I could just put one day after another, and assure myself at the end of that day
that I was one more day removed from that valley that I would be okay.
Interesting man.
Semper fi
Jim
You got a set of balls on you Marine.
Thankfully, I can not and do not try to remember the pain. My shoulder was ripped up pretty good by a four deuce.
You brought back a lot of shit that was hidden, in the back of my mind. Things, carefully packed away. Memories that could not be visited because of the wall of tears. You brought back the stench of that jungle, cordite and blood.
You brought back the love I felt from and for my Brothers and I thank you for that. Love for the black Marine who covered me with his body while the bird came in for dustoff. He didn’t know me but he loved and protected his fallen Brother. Hell, I never even saw his face.
You will, never, really know how you helped this old soldier face his monster and stomp his snakes..
Then, there was home coming. I think that played harder on my mind than the Nam. I was shocked and overcome with disbelief.
We gave, They took, so much. And all they want now, is more
I can not forget and I God damn sure will not forgive.
I’m looking forward to the continuation.
Wow, Edward, you certainly reached deep down inside to write that comment and it hit deep inside me.
I was not truly aware of how much I loved so many of my Marines until later, when they were gone, but not gone, so to speak.
My inability to stand before the single stone relief with most of my Marines on it at the D.C. memorial speaks volumes when
it comes to that last part. I do not want to read their names, as being dead. I can see Fusner’s smiling face right in front
of me now and will, hopefully, for the rest of my life. Thanks for this tremendous comment…and for you being you.
The Cowardly Lion will be the next tome and it is all about the recovery.
Thanks for writing and thanks for being a loyal fan…
Semper fi,
Jim
James, I understand why this took so long and so many re writes to get it down. You’re in good company. I recently finished Farewell to Arms. Hemingway re wrote the end of that 47 times.
I look forward to this winter when I will re read all three books at one time. I’m hoping the three will be available soon. I’ve got the first two on Nook, but I want all three printed versions as soon as possible. Thank you for telling this story!
Back when Hemmingway was writing, he had served in the Italian Army working with the Red Cross as an ambulance driver.
He was wounded by an Austrian mortar round. Hemmingway was a combat veteran and that colored his works.
Although he purported to want to tell the truth about what happened for real in combat most of his works lean more toward the mythology of what happens. He was terrific, of course, and I don’t even think to compare my work with his…but still.
What happened in the A Shau in 1968 during the month of September is what happened there, among my two units.
Someone wrote a book called “Once a Warrior King,” and I identified with that title.
I did, as Junior, grow to become a version of that descriptor…and, of course, demonstrated graphically just how long real warrior kings last in real ground combat.
The Cowardly Lion will be the next tome and it is all about the recovery.
Thanks for writing and thanks for being a loyal fan…
Semper fi,
Jim
I also wonder what happened to the others that we came to know they your story. Will The Cowardly Lion cover that as well?
I’ll be in your neck of the woods in September for my checkup with Cancer Treatment Centers of America. Sure would like to buy you a beer.
The Cowardly Lion will cover all the information I could gain from the system as it was at the time.
That’s with respect to what happened to everyone. As best I can, of course.
Thanks for the neat comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
Interesting that you bring up “Once a Warrior King”. It is on my top 5 favorite accounts of the experience of Nam. Right up there with “30 Days has September”. I will write more when I finish reading all the comments on this chapter.
ESSAYONS
Glenn
Thanks Glenn, it is good to be considered with such another fine literary work..
Semper fi,
Jim
Lt., been with you from page one book one and have the two set autographed hardback books, knowing this last chapter was coming still didn’t prepare me for it. However I believe like most Viet Nam vets that the last page is still not written on us. A heartfelt thank you for the perseverance and courage to tell your personal story, as most can’t or like myself never will.
Best wishes for your future writings Jim…
SEMPER FI
Sgt Bob D.
Thanks for being along for the ‘whole ride’ here SgtBobD. I know your name. I know you’re writing.
Much appreciate the past, as well as the present, comments.
The Cowardly Lion will be the next tome and it is all about the recovery.
Thanks for writing and thanks for being a loyal fan…
Semper fi,
Jim
Thank you James I know it’s hard to get your story all out. It’s hard for all of us who were there and came back home. Glad you made it back. I have not had my heart work done yet because of Cov.19 and VA not working. I am on the List you know how that gos
My thoughts and prayers, and yes real care, rest with you while you rest waiting. I quit cardio-rehab after one visit when
I figured out the tmy survival from the post heart surgery stuff could be much better managed and applied by me at home rather than
risk the Cover exposure at the hospital. Thanks for keeping me abreast and please keep checking in.
The Cowardly Lion will be the next tome and it is all about the recovery.
Thanks for writing and thanks for being a loyal fan…
Semper fi,
Jim
Truly one of the most riveting narratives I have ever read. Thank you for your service and thank you for sharing!
Thank you so much for that, Don
Semper fi,
Jim
James
I was only 5 years old. My brother was in Charlie 1-3 3rd Marines in 1969-70 in the north. My mom use to send me to the mail box to get the mail. That was the first time I ever saw my mom cry. Siemper Fi brother.
I do so hope your brother made it. Very few actually served out in the field although I do not mean to diminish the service of those
in the rear areas (where I so wanted to be!). The support gave me life…and here I am.
Semper fi
Jim
Thank you for finishing your story. I know it could not have been easy. Your dedication is appreciated. You have created an important first hand account of combat in Vietnam that will live on forever.
I am humbled by your comment, Joe.
Please share the whole story with your friends.
The First Ten Days starts here:
Thirty Days Has September
Semper fi,
Jim
Will do, Jim.
James I can feel your pain as you describe it. I was wounded three times during my 25 year career. I’ll be patiently waiting for the next writings.
Thanks, Don,
Have you signed up for Updates and New Chapters of books being written?
Semper fi,
Jim
That was tough to read, I cannot fathom the pain you had to endure, yet I feel your courage to write this chapter. I look forward to reading the Cowardly Lion. I will be ordering all three of the 30 days books soon as the last one is ready. So sorry about Fusser. He was a good man.
He was a boy. The very best of boys. Never complained. Did the job, dug my holes, found me food and water and would never call me Junior. I was lieutenant or sir and that always straightened my back, since I felt like neither. That I owe him is beyond words. That I cannot ever repay him, except here, in this writing, is also very sadly true.
Semper fi, and thanks for the apropos comment.
Jim
Just amazing. I was afraid that Gunny or Fusner would be killed. No wonder you had such a hard time with it. Bless you Jim for your service. It has been one hell of a ride. Looking forward to the next book!
Thanks Fred and yes, it was one hell of a ride, and it’s a long way from over!
Semper fi,
Jim
…. a 105mm shell has only 7 charge bags, not eight .. and a max range of 7.00 miles or a little over 11 klicks ….
The long awaited frightful end of the beginning….
A bittersweet moment for your readership…
Jim,
You have no idea how much your writing of the Thirty Days has impacted your readers. We “ghost soldiers” readers have been with you throughout your journey and have anxiously awaited every heart-pounding episode.
You were assuredly a blessing to many who have actually fought under your command. Through you writing, you have been a blessing to others who served in Vietnam and have struggled to fight their own personal demons from that past. You have no idea of how many of these brave soldiers you have helped to finally heal. And your gripping writings have been a blessing to those of us who never had been on the front line in Vietnam, giving us a vivid picture of what war is about and what life and death difficulties front line soldiers daily face. Your masterfully written chapters of “Thirty Days..” have been tremendously impactful to me and others.
I cannot thank you enough for all you did in Vietnam under very difficult and at times impossible circumstances. I cannot thank you enough for actually writing and sharing your story and the story of your men.
I will never hear the words Jim, LT, or Junior without thinking of you and recalling all your remarkable chapters that I have devoured. We all look forward to additional chapters of your next book where you share about your post-battlefield experiences of physical recovery and additional adventures. We want to continue that journey with you.
Wishing you joy, comfort, satisfaction, strength, peace, and all things good for your future. And that God will bless you in all ways.
Sending you a small check via the postal system (as another contribution to your GoFundMe efforts).
Thank you, thank you, thank you!
I don’t know what to say in reply to a comment that is so massively complimentary. That last chapter was not about complimentary behavior and I had so much trouble with it Walt. I did not
want to tell the truth, and could only do that after many rewrites…but there it is. That you cannot hear the words LT or Junior and not think of me is the highest of compliments and makes me smile
into this rather difficult night…following the submission I sent to Chuck with great trepidation…when I pushed that send button.
Thank you ss very much Walt…
Semper fi,
Jim
Your writing is great I sure hate for the story to end. Thanks for your service. Looking forward to the next book.
Thanks Dempsey, I wasn’t sure that anyone would read the Cowardly Lion, as it is not combat, or at least not that kind of combat.
Back home was combat, in its way, and some of it violent, as I could not, for a long time, let completely go of the skill sets
I had forced into every part of my consciousness.
The Cowardly Lion will be the next tome and it is all about the recovery.
Thanks for writing and thanks for being a loyal fan…
Semper fi,
Jim
Semper Fi Jim! I’ve been with you all the way! I can understand why it was so damn difficult to write this last Chapter! I admire your ability to do so as for myself I don’t know that I could even talk about it! Stay safe and God Bless you!
Thanks Pete, and yes, like that of a lot of vets on here who have been extraordinary, I know your name.
The Cowardly Lion will be the next tome and it is all about the recovery.
Thanks for writing and thanks for being a loyal fan…
Semper fi,
Jim
Well…we have been on this journey for quite some time…thank you for sharing your story… thank you for bringing the truth to light as none other has…it was riveting, heart-wrenching, and full of care…the care for your men. However, this saga works out, you were one hell of a leader and your men knew it. You have done a great service to us Vets on here that wanted someone to tell it like it really was. I just hope that somehow your story reaches many, many more people. I have bought the paperbacks, but would like the hardcover, signed trilogy, if that is an option. And now I guess we will anxiously await the follow up or as Paul Harvey used to say “the rest of the story”…
Thanks Mark, I really read your comment slowly and with great interest. So well worded and so sincere. I cannot thank you enough, of course.
You have made this night much more passable and acceptable.
Semper fi,
Jim
James, James, Lt Sir I just finished reading, and had to wait a while to try and type this. I had an accident a couple of weeks ago and have a couple of fractured ribs and my breathing was so strong during reading I was feeling the pain from the ribs. I know it was nothing like the pain you described from you wounds but it still brought it home. You are one heck of a man to have not used that third hit. There had to be a very strong tie back to your wife and daughter that made you hold off. Many would have taken the easy way out. God had to be with you also! This makes about 2 years I have been reading and have enjoyed it all, you made it very real all the way and especially this last chapter. I look forward to the new book and what it will hold. A Vet friend.
Al, the illustrations was done by a local, and wonderful artist. He did not serve in the war so I have no idea what he used for
analytically correct data with respect to that chopper. But I much appreciate guys like you standing up and indicating that you know.
Semper fi,
Jim
Dear James. Something caught my eye that probably was missed by almost everyone. Your illustration for your book shows a UH-1B, Navy Seawolves gunship. I was a fifty gunner on over 700 missions in the two tours I completed in the delta. A documentary was produced last year called Scramble the Seawolves, which gives some in depth coverage of our unknown existence. If people want to know more about our group, check out the film, or log on to http://www.seawolf.org.
Thank you. John Perry. Detachment 9, and Detachment 3, 1970-71
Al, the illustrations was done by a local, and wonderful artist. He did not serve in the war so I have no idea what he used for
analytically correct data with respect to that chopper. But I much appreciate guys like you standing up and indicating that you know.
Semper fi,
Jim
Than you for your service, sir. I say that to vets a lot. But also thanks for being willing to share a very painful and tragic memory. God bless you.
A friend got me into reading you, and I got my son hooked on reading you too. I look forward to adding the 3rd ten to my collection and then the cowardly lion also.
Thanks for the thanks! The sharing has been beneficial to me too. I don’t feel as bad about my own performance in that valley, as I did before all vets on here began giving me
‘comment therapy.’ It has meant a lot to me to not be alone in my thoughts about all that took place…and how so much of it keeps on taking place…
Next book is called The Cowardly Lion and I will be putting up free chapters (like with 30 Days) here beginning next week.
Semper fi,
Jim
Thanks Jim. I got nothing more at this time. Prayers of comfort & strength sent. Doug
I know that name Doug, and thank you, as usual for your comment, no matter how laconic in nature and length.
Next book is called The Cowardly Lion and I will be putting up free chapters (like with 30 Days) here beginning next week.
Semper fi,
Jim
Thank you for sharing James, what a traumatic experience to say the least. Praying that there are more survivors than you. The bravery of you and your Marines is beyond belief. Did I miss a chapter? Did Jurgens get out on the relief chopper that landed on the valley floor? Did the chopper make it out? Let me know when the last 10 days is available in paper back. I would like an autographed copy. I can’t thank you and all the others who served enough.
Chuck, old friend on here, I will check the hard copy immediately. Did I miss something in transition? I don’t know, but I am on it.
Thanks for the thanks and the compliments you always give me and my work.
Next book is called The Cowardly Lion and I will be putting up free chapters (like with 30 Days) here beginning next week.
Semper fi,
Jim
I anxiously and some what impatiently await the next book in the series. Praying for your strength and focus. Hang in there, it has been a long and painful journey for you but a journey you are more than capable of handling.
You are simply a class act Grigus and I pour over your every word. That you have and display such an interest and care for me the author is extraordinary and so well received here, by both me and my wife.
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
Thank you, Lieutenant ‘Junior’, for your story. Many memories came alive once again through your words and pages. Pleased you returned to the whirled (world) as a functioning human being. Will be looking forward to The Cowardly Lion when it appears. Live long, live well, Marine!
“Functioning’ is the mind of the beholder. Yes, I came back. Yes, I performed maximally to effect. Thanks for the consideration in that comment. I will be hard at work next week on TCL.
Thanks for the great comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
James, I can see why this segment was so difficult to process and write. Over the years you have paid tribute to men named and unnamed who otherwise might be forgotten. You have validated the memories of those who were there. You have provided a cautionary tale to those who follow that myths about combat are not true. May your work spread to a wide audience. Our country needs it. May blessings come upon you for this labor. Many thanks.
One small suggestion follows:
I fumbled the package out, shredding the cardboard box as I did so while bring my freed upright hand over
Change “upright” to “up” and “right”.
Maybe change “bring” to “bringing”
I fumbled the package out, shredding the cardboard box as I did so while bringing my freed up right hand over
I don’t get the last sentence “They were sending Puff the Magic Dragon to make sure the chopper teams were not encountered by an active memory.”
Is “memory” supposed to be “enemy”? Or is the sentence a reflection of your pain-wracked mental state?
We remember PFC Allen G. Fussner. Semper Fidelis in life. I believe he is in the world of Spirit, whole in being, ready to wave an “it’s OK” back to you.
Is this the final segment?
Blessings & Be Well
Again you are an awesome friend.
Have corrected the errors.
This is the Final Segment of the Third Ten Days.
Cowardly Lion will open while still in Vietnam and off to hopsitals >> discahrge >> and transition into Civilian life
It should be ‘enemy,’ as you so wisely observed. That you looked up Fussner, is quite something. I could not change his name, even though I was advised to do that.
He was that vital to me and remains like a long lost child of my youth…a person never to be forgotten or minimized. Thanks for the great caring and interesting comment.
Yes, this is the last segment to the series, but the fourth book, the afterward, is called The Cowardly Lion and that will begin next week in serial form. The recovery and coming home.
Semper fi,
jim
NO NO NO LT don’t leave us drifting in the wind!! What happened to the rest of the Company? How about Gunny, Nguyen, and the rest.
You will not be left drifting in the wind. The first chapters of The Cowardly Lion will lay it all out as I found it to be and then later chapters will clarify even more.
Thanks for caring.
Semper fi,
Jim
please email us when that will appear, i always wait to read your posts, so does one of my kids and a veteran across the street.
I have your six on the contacting, with respect to when the three are all available in hard and soft cover. It will take about a month to make that happen.
Next book is called The Cowardly Lion and I will be putting up free chapters (like with 30 Days) here beginning next week.
Semper fi,
Jim
Just …damn…Thank you sir…
You are most welcome Charley….and it has been might pleasure. mostly, to lay it all down.
Semper fi,
Jim
I set here with tears in my eyes. I am sorry you had to go through that, just it’s enough and neither is THANK YOU for your service. My hope is that your writing will be the morphine for the pain you must still feel.
Thanks Mike, it was a harrowing time and a tough chapter to write. My own responsibility in all of it is hard to overcome at times
and we don’t forgive ourselves as easily as we do others.
Semper fi,
Jim
All I can say is damn! I flew too many missions to places you just described.
I still fly them times at night.
I am there on the ground in that valley on those nights and I cannot thank you enough for being up there, between me and God…
Semper fi,
Jim
A great memoir. Let us know when the book is available so I can have all three. I’m sharing with lots of my friends. Beautiful job , Hope you now have closure
I will be on it, Don, letting you know when the book is available in both hard and soft cover.
Thanks for wanting it and more…
Semper fi,
Jim
Semper-Fi Welcome Jarhead
Thank you, Cpl Rump!
Semper fi,
Jim
All I can say is thank you, I know that it could not have been easy to write the last part of thirty days!!
I have really enjoyed this entire read. Lots of memories awakened. Thank you.
Thanks Frank, it means a lot to me, even this short note. I presume you have traveled the road
which I was once on. I am glad you have found my works and this place. It’s good for us all…
Semper fi,
Jim
How soon can you mail out the printed copy of the third 10 days. So sorry you men had to go through the shit the politicians dropped you in. May God bless every one of you.
It will probably be 3-4 weeks with this Pandemic slowing the major printers.
We will announce the availability several days in advance
Semper fi,
Jim
Well done LT.
I am looking forward to the rest of the story in a voice from the radio days.
Semper Fi!
Thank you sir for sharing such a gut wrenching personal account and taking us all where we were afraid to go. I’ve waiting for this last chapter; knowing how hard it must be for you to write it. My heart hurts for your losses, even these many years can’t have taken away all the pain. I cannot imagine how hard it has been to write these last few words. Please know those of us who have followed along these 30 days have been deeply moved and changed. Thank you.
Thanks Don, for the depth of your words and I know how hard those revelations from within are so hard to write.
Not without about a quart of alcohol, I mean, facetiously. Much appreciate the compliments and the care so evidently displayed in your comment.
Next book is called The Cowardly Lion and I will be putting up free chapters (like with 30 Days) here beginning next week.
Semper fi,
Jim
Second to last sentence: active enemy. Not active memory.
Again, thank you, Steven.
Corrected.
Semper fi,
Jim
I do not have words to describe how I feel about this journey you have shared with us,your readers. Thank you for your sacrifice ,your service and thank God you made it home alive. I would like to purchase signed hardback copies of all three books. Again Thank You!
I will have notifications of publication sent out most haste as the manuscript goes to print, imaging, editing and so on.
Thanks for the loyal following of my works and my life experience.
Semper fi,
Jim
Thanks for another great chapter, James! One comment: “Your hit bad through and through and you’ve got to fight it,” the moving mouth inches from my face said. “You’re going out on a Huey right now. You’ll never make it waiting for the big bird.” Change Your to You’re. Semper Fi!
Great catch, Michale.
Thank you and corrected,
Semper fi,
Jim
Second paragraph, “Climbing in the night was a risk, since the enemy, once it figured out that we were doing what we were doing,” Repeated phrase, “what we were doing”
Riveting story to the very end. It must have been difficult for you to write it but hopefully healing as well. Thank you for your service and your sacrifice.
It wasn’t the easiest and to be honest, I never thought I would put the story out there.
But the tremendous support form the people like you, Tim, has made it worthwhile.
Suggestion is corrected
Semper fi
Jim
Last paragraph, “..to make sure the chopper teams were not encountered by an active memory.” Did you mean to write “memory” or enemy?
We caught it, Thanks for the sharp eye
Semper fi,
Jim
Wow is all I can say! I don’t worry about small grammatical errors. I have followed this since the beginning and been in awe of you and your soldiers. It is amazing how anyone who was in actual combat every returns to their new normal. I have friends that were snipers and Rangers in Vietnam, I have learned to only imagine what hey went through from your books. I can only imagine how hard this last segment was for you. God Bless, stay strong!
Returning home is all covered in the coming book called The Cowardly Lion. It’s about about accommodation and change. How to have done what I did and the suffered what I suffered
and not be able to share it with anyone back home. That was so hard. Not being able to hurt people that I felt needed to be hurt so badly. That was hard too. The Cowardly Lion is what I had to become to survive back home.
I am not that but I can be that if that is what it takes…and it did.
Semper fi,
Jim
Unreal, just unreal. I have no other words. Thanks you for taking me on this journey with you.
I’d follow you any were LT.
Semper Paratus
Steven A Johnson, QM2 USCG ’61-’69
Thanks Steven, and I much appreciate that compliment. Hopefully, the nation will not descend into a nightmare of revolution,
in which case you may have the opportunity to follow me anywhere. Whom else? I am in search of anyone to follow and I can find
no one.
Semper fi,
Jim
Well done LT.
I am looking forward to the rest of the story in a voice from the radio days.
Semper Fi!
Jim,
I am so happy that you survived those terrible wounds and the experiences that you had so that we could meet and become friends. I can never thank you enough for your service but know that I am immensely appreciative!
Semper Fidelis my friend.
Dwayne
P.S. I will be ordering an autographed copy of the book!
Dwayne Herberich. What a guy to have served with in the police department back in those post-Vietnam days. I cloaked my service
in the military pretty well in those days. Much enjoyed the few times when we worked together. Like I always say about you, one
of the most intelligent people I’ve ever met.
The Cowardly Lion will be the next tome and it is all about the recovery.
Thanks for writing and thanks for being a loyal fan…
Semper fi,
Jim
Thanks for a great book and the ride was unbelievable!
“Your hit bad through and through” you’re
Thank you so much for being brave enough to share that with us. I’ll have to start on your other stories now. Take care sir.
Tim Purcell
Thanks, Tim,
It has been corrected,
Semper fi
Jim
Jr, I now understand why 30 was an extreme challenge for you to finish and finally put an end to your long ago war; that surely must seem like last week.
Hopefully, my friend, your soul can now feel some sense of closure.
Semper Fi,
Turk
You are a class act Colonel Campbell, and I always smile in reading your words on here.
Thanks for the nice comment and supportive words. Much appreciated.
Your friend,
and Semper fi,
Jim.
Thank Jim. I have the first and second “Ten Days” and looking forward to the third. The last several paragraphs were a hard read. Glad to see your robust face in the picture above and to read your talented writing. First person writing is always difficult. I look forward to The Cowardly Lion, your fight with recovery.
Thanks Waynor, for the erudite and accurate comment, not to mention compliments and care…all wrapped into one.
Much appreciated. The Cowardly Lion looms in the near distance…
Semper fi,
Jim
Semper fi and god have mercy on fusner and all those brave young marines.
From your lips, or the nib of your pen, to God’s ears. Fusner was like a son to me at that
time and the regret of his early passing has never left me. Thanks for sharing that on here.
Semper fi,
Jim
Absolutely stunning, James. I read a LOT of books, of all sorts, and this ending chapter for your September in the tropics outdoes all of them.
I think that most of us have become like family, following along on your journey, and can only say that the title of your next book is about 180 degrees out from what you, and your brave heart, are in the real world.
Been waiting for the end to purchase the trilogy in a set. I do have the two autographed paperbacks, but wanted to wait until I could get the complete story in hardback.
Semper Fi, my friend.
Craig, I put your comment on my Facebook page. It had that kind of bite meaning and well wishes. Thank you my friend for writing what you wrote on here…and into my soul…
Semper fi,
Jim
Thanks LT for the end of 30 days, I know how hard it was for you to finish.
It took me over 45 years to tell anyone about the night I was wounded. Still very hard to tell anyone that was not there.
You have come to the right place in your life Mike. These people, and I, get it and have gotten it through the years. Not all combat vets, and many not vets at all…
but so together in our minds and in the imagined and real scenes of what brought us all together.
Thanks for being here and thanks for sharing at all.
Semper fi,
Jim
Thank you Jim.
I’ve prayed for fifty-two years that the faces of my brothers would come back and arrange themselves next to those names that I’ll never forget. They simply won’t be reunited . . . . even in the two or three recurring nightmares that I can’t shake . . . . I see the faces and I try calling them by name but the names are always wrong.
Awesome writing !
Simper Fi, Lt.
Keep me in the loop.
G. Tyler, LCPL, USMC
How much we share. Yes, I have this memory, but still…we didn’t call each other by our real names long enough for them to stick. I sill can’t remember Sugar Daddy’s real name.
The Gunny was the Gunny and I can only recall his name because it was the same as a town in New Mexico. I am sorry about the nightmares. All I can do on those kinds of occasions is
get up and pace or go on the Internet and watch some non-war movie. Thanks for the neat compliment.
Next book is called The Cowardly Lion and I will be putting up free chapters (like with 30 Days) here beginning next week.
Semper fi,
Jim
Now I know why the last day took so long…I could almost feel the loss!
Only problem I see is you will have to do “you” in the movie!
I aged out, Colonel. I understand the message though and I cannot tell you how much that means to me.
But I was 23 and that fact would have to be apparent and inescapable in any movie. I am still that L.T. inside
though and your comment made me smile at the thought of that.
Semper fi,
Jim
Will you please tell us about your recovery? God Bless you LT
It will be included in the ‘Cowardly Lion”
Thank you for your support, Tony
Semper fi,
Jim
Well, it has been a ride from the opening sentence. Perhaps, odyssey is a better description. The ebb and flow of angst, fear, and sheer terror kept me spellbound and eagerly anticipating each post. Thank you for sharing your soul and the hearts of your men. My six classmates on the wall salute you! May God Bless your future endeavors and give you peace and health.
thanks John B, means a lot to me…
Semper fi,
Jim
I hope the Gunny and Jurgens and many of the all of the other boys made it out! I’m glad Junior lived…
Thank you for the incredi hmm me Story LT James Straus
Thank you all for your service…
Welcome Home
The Cowardly Lion will reveal all, as I w finish the first chapter next week.
That’s the coming home part of the story…and better completion than an epilogue.
Semper fi,
Jim
Wow, what a journey!!
Thanks Mike, it was all of that, and more.
SEmper fi,
Jim
Also, I have looked at trying to get signed copies of all three 30 days. I can’t figure out how without guaranteeing I get them right. What is the best copy? Hard or soft back? And is there a link? Much appreciate your help on this.
Thanks for your support, Mike
Currently, First and Second Ten Days are available autographed in Paperback and Hardcover.
It will probably be 3-4 weeks before autographed Hard Cover and paperback are available.
Here are links for s=currently available book
Autographed Paperbacks
Autographed Hard Cover
WOWWWWWWWWWWW LT…………….I figure that Gunny and the rest did not make it out.
The Cowardly Lion begins next week. It will reveal all about what happened to everyone. They did not all die, but so many did.
Semper fi,
Jim
Wow! Just wow. Thank you for this series.
You are most welcome Mike, and thank you for commenting on here about it.
Semper fi,
Jim
4th paragraph, “football field sized”.
Thanks for the sharp eye, Mark
Corrected
Semper fi
Jim
Good job James!
“The voices of the enemy shoulders became louder”
soldiers
I really appreciate your help, Waly
Corrected
Semper fi,
Jim
The long awaited frightful end of the beginning….
A bittersweet moment for your readership…
*****************************************
Jim,
You have no idea how much your writing of the Thirty Days has impacted your readers. We “ghost soldiers” readers have been with you throughout your journey and have anxiously awaited every heart-pounding episode.
You were assuredly a blessing to many who have actually fought under your command. Through you writing, you have been a blessing to others who served in Vietnam and have struggled to fight their own personal demons from that past. You have no idea of how many of these brave soldiers you have helped to finally heal. And your gripping writings have been a blessing to those of us who never had been on the front line in Vietnam, giving us a vivid picture of what war is about and what life and death difficulties front line soldiers daily face. Your masterfully written chapters of “Thirty Days..” have been tremendously impactful to me and others.
I cannot thank you enough for all you did in Vietnam under very difficult and at times impossible circumstances. I cannot thank you enough for actually writing and sharing your story and the story of your men.
I will never hear the words Jim, LT, or Junior without thinking of you and recalling all your remarkable chapters that I have devoured. We all look forward to additional chapters of your next book where you share about your post-battlefield experiences of physical recovery and additional adventures. We want to continue that journey with you.
Wishing you joy, comfort, satisfaction, strength, peace, and all things good for your future. And that God will bless you in all ways.
Sending you a small check via the postal system (as another contribution to your GoFundMe efforts).
Thank you, thank you, thank you!
I published this comment on my websites with Facebook. It was simply too real and precious, not to mention well written, that I could not help it. I credited you.
Thank you so very much and how much it means to me, what you said here, probably five you no surprise.
You have made my heart float like a butterfly…
Semper fi,
Jim
LT,
I happened to run across your re-posting of my heartfelt comment while scrolling through Facebook. What a surprise! I am touched, and feel deeply honored! Every person with whom we come into contact along life’s highway can impact us–and we them– and it can be a positive or a negative impact. A smile, a comment, anything said or done. A little of them becomes part of us, and a little of us becomes a part of them. I pray you have many more life experiences and interactions that “make your heart float like a butterfly.”
Blessings to you and your loved ones.
Your comment deserved the attention and I had to respond. You are a class act Walt Duke and I much appreciate having you on here
and out there in my life.
Semper fi,
Jim
Little wonder why it was so difficult to finish. Please reach deep to let us know what happened to the Gunny.
The Cowardly Lion will reveal it all. Thanks for caring enough to ask.
Semper fi,
Jim
Most of the company, just up from climbing the glacis, were on our stomachs, crawling across the clear but broken area, thankful to be away from the edge and actually looking for some safety inside the jungle itself. Somehow, the Gunny( fund )me in the dark, and stopped my forward progress by grabbing my right ankle.
(found)
Every chapter seems more intense. Could feel the tension along with the rain and mud even.
Thank you, Pete.
Corrected
Semper fi
Jim
I want signed copies of all three books, as soon as they are available. Can’t wait.
As you seek so will you find…or as the expression was universally illustrated in the movie Princess Bride: “as you wish.”
Thanks for the supportive, neat and public comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
Thank you!
I need to buy this one to complete my collection. What a great book!
thanks Rick, I am particularly happy to be there on the shelf in your collection.
Semper fi,
Jim
I think I need a minute..
Knew the end was coming but not ready to accept the enviability . The names I had come to know and started to see the man they had become. Now to wait on the book to start the battle all over again. Thanks for carrying us along for the difficult time in your life Jr.
Some of the names I used were real in the books. That’s kind of a no-no in writing fictional novels. Some very determined ‘investigators’ on here
have even found some on the wall. I sure don’t want to cause any more pain to surviving families through the years though. I just sort of could not help’ myself in using some of the real names since they were so very real to me.
Semper fi, and thanks for writing what you wrote here.
Jim
DAM !!!!!!!!!!!
“Somehow, the gunny fund me…..”
Thank you for taking us there with you.
Thanks, Sam
Corrected.
Semper fi
Jim
The story has ended but in reality continues on. The hell you have gone through completing this I can’t imagine. I remember the Hill battles from 67 and 68. You gave no quarter to the enemy. Can’t wait for the 3rd book to complete my set and anxiously await the cowardly lion although there is nothing cowardly I see. Welcome home
Good to see your name here Pete. Missed you. Thanks for the usual great comment. The Cowardly Lion is about a survival position I had to assume back home
in order to survive back in the culture. Thanks for the usual great words and compliment.
Semper fi,
Jim
Thank you for your service and for writing this riveting story of what really happend over there.
You are most welcome David. My brother was an army officer who died in 1969 there. Thanks for writing in and so complimenting me.
Semper fi,
Jim
I can’t type
I presume you made it through the 30th day. Thanks for the upside down compliment!
Semper fi,
Jim
Lost a great friend to cancer a few months ago, he too was a Nam vet SSG Stephen Pentlen. Big Red One, Bronze star, Air Metal. Asked him one time how he went from Private to SSG in just under a year, his reply was “The rest of them where gone”. Or my fathers comments a year before he pasted, He to was a Marine like you, 1st Marines Guadalcanal WWII, wounded in initial invasion and set state side to VA hospital to recover for 7 + months. His war was over quick also, he told me he was so happy I didn’t have to live the horror of war as he did, A broken back kept me out in 1970. Lost more than a handful of High school friends to Nam, but your book puts it in focus, Thank you LT
So sorry you lost your great friend and your Dad. Guadalcanal had to have been an absolute nightmare.
Your Dad was lucky to make it long enough to get out there and then probably onto a hospital ship equipped
to keep him alive. No choppers back then.
Thanks for the kind words.
Semper fi
Jim